Rotter Apocalypse (8 page)

The rest of the Angels hovered around Josephine. Natalie rushed over to them. “We have to find Doreen and Sandy.”

The women hesitated, responding when Josephine said, “Go on. I’ll be safe here.”

With that, the Angels raced up alongside the truck toward the front gate. By now, the fighting had shifted inside to the compound.

*  *  *

The sound of battle shattered the silence in the basement. Doreen, Sandy, and Sarge looked between each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is that gunfire?” asked Sandy.

Sarge nodded.

“Does this mean we’re under attack by rotters?” Doreen asked.

“Shut up in there!” Snake yelled from the corridor. He stood with his gaze focused on the door leading to the basement.

A second later, more gunfire joined the fray. Sarge glanced over at the women, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “There’s a lot of weapons fire, and some of it sounds like it’s outside the compound.”

“Hey!” Snake centered himself in the door. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!”

Sarge whispered. “I think our people are coming to get us.”

Snake stepped up and placed the barrel of his AR-15 against Sarge’s forehead. “Then maybe I oughta shoot you rig—”

Three explosions rocked the building above them. Dust drifted from the ceiling. Snake forgot about Sarge and ran out of the room. “Come on, man. Where are you?”

*  *  *

By the time the Angels passed through the gate, the battle had pushed deep inside the compound. Two-thirds of Brown’s remaining men had secured the parking lot north of the entrance and were clearing the three buildings in that area of combatants. The rest had set up a defense line across the drive leading to the five buildings in the southern sector of the complex and had engaged the enemy. Bodies littered the area opposite the gate, most belonging to the Deaders. Near the makeshift perimeter wall, a gang member dragged himself through the grass toward the first building on the right, leaving a trail of blood. Natalie waved for the others to follow.

“What’s your hurry?” Natalie asked as she squatted beside the gang member. She rolled him onto his back. He had a gaping wound in his abdomen the size of a baseball, and dragging it across the ground had not done it any good. “Where do you keep your hostages?”

“Fuck you, lady.”

Natalie shoved her hand into the open wound and twisted. The gang member convulsed around her fist and attempted to sit up, screaming in agony. She removed her hand after a few seconds. He fell back onto the ground, gasping for air.

“I’ll ask you again. Where do you keep the hostages?”

“You can… kill me... if you want… bitch. I’m not… telling.”

“No. I won’t kill you.” Natalie shoved her fist inside the wound again, this time deeper. Her fingers wrapped around something that felt like intestines; she grabbed and yanked. The gang member’s body went rigid and his eyes rolled up into his head. His cry cut off in his throat. “I’ll keep this up until you tell me what I want to know.”

To emphasize her point, Natalie twirled the intestine.

The gang member raised a hand and shook it in supplication. Natalie released the intestine and removed her hand. The gang member went limp.

“Well?”

He pointed to the building ahead of them. His voice croaked out a whisper. “In there…. basement…. third door…. on right.”

“How many guards?”

He couldn’t muster the energy to speak. Instead, he raised two fingers, although they barely moved.

Natalie stood up and focused on the apartment building in front of them. “Let’s go get our people.”

*  *  *

The fighting outside intensified. As it drew closer, Snake became more agitated, changing position every few seconds and keeping his weapon trained on the door leading into the basement. Doreen eyed him carefully, trying to determine if he would panic and run, or kill them out of spite.

She never considered that Batchelder would attack.

Sarge jumped to his feet and raced for the door, bending to tackle Snake. Without hesitating, Doreen jumped to her feet and followed, knowing Sarge would need all the help he could get. She lost her balance and righted herself. The noise drew Snake’s attention. He turned in time to see them charging him. Snake spun his AR-15 around. Being so close to the doorway, the barrel hit the jamb. He backed up and readjusted his aim as Sarge body checked him. The weapon discharged. Sarge grunted and collapsed, blood pouring from a wound in his left leg. Snake fell to the floor, dropping the AR-15. He started to get back up when Doreen slammed into him, driving her right knee into his chest. The two slid down the wall. Doreen straddled him, with one knee on his chest and the other on his stomach. Walking on her knees, she moved up toward his neck. Snake regained his second wind. He grabbed her by the belt with his left hand, holding her in place, and punched her in the face. The first blow glanced off her cheek because of the angle. Doreen shifted her torso so that her back faced him. Snake grabbed a handful of her red hair and yanked, pulling her off balance.

Sandy rushed into the corridor and dropped to her knees, the right one landing on Snake’s crotch. Doreen heard one of his testicles pop, like a walnut being cracked. Snake’s body went rigid. He cried out, tears streaming down his face, and released Doreen’s hair. She took advantage of the opportunity and shifted on his chest. Her left knee slid down his sternum and against his neck, choking off his sobs of pain. Balancing herself on her right knee, she raised her left and slammed it down again on Snake’s neck. A loud cracking of bones filled the corridor and Snake went limp. Only then did Doreen fall against the wall and begin crying.

A commotion sounded further down the corridor. Doreen didn’t have any fight left in her. She rolled over to face the door leading into the basement and accept her death. Relief washed over her when she spotted Natalie and the rest of the Angels approaching, their weapons raised and aimed. Natalie headed straight for her and Sandy while the others checked each of the rooms along the corridor. Natalie dropped to her knees when she reached her girls, placed her weapon on the floor, and hugged them. Ari stood to the side, keeping her eyes on the opposite end of the corridor.

“I’m fine,” said Sarge with a heavy tone of sarcasm. “Thanks for asking.”

“I’m sorry.” Doreen raised her arms behind her back to show Natalie the handcuffs. “Get us out of these things.”

Natalie patted down Snake, found the key in his shirt pocket, and used it to free Doreen and Sandy. Doreen took the keys and stepped over to Sarge. He shifted so she could reach the handcuffs. When his hands were free he massaged his wounded leg. “It feels funny. Almost like a burning sensation.”

“What do you expect? You’ve been shot.”

“I was shot once before in Iraq. I know what it feels like,” Sarge grunted. “This is different.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Doreen. “You’ll be okay.”

Natalie patted her on the shoulder. When Doreen looked up, Natalie shook her head.

Shit, thought Doreen. Will anything ever be all right again?

Denning woke up at his usual hour, although not under the usual circumstances. Rather than listening to the chirping birds and the wind blowing through the trees outside his bedroom window, he heard the clanking of dishes and laughing coming from the kitchen. Even more pleasing was the aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon that wafted through the house. Anna was the last person to have made him breakfast. A momentary tinge of sadness over her memory tainted his contentment. Windows and Cindy were preparing a special treat for him, and he intended to enjoy it.

Sitting up and swinging his feet onto the floor, Denning paused for a few moments to catch his breath. He got up, dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Windows and Cindy sat at the table eating breakfast and chatting. Both had showered and changed, borrowing some of Anna’s old clothes. The jeans and white cotton button-down shirt Windows wore hung loosely on her, mostly because of being underweight. Cindy’s dress engulfed her like a tent. Windows had patched it as best she could by using a belt to hold the material tight against the girl’s waist and lifting the hem nearly two feet with safety pins. At first, Denning felt irritated that they had borrowed his wife’s clothes without asking permission. He pushed those feelings aside. They looked so much better than the two lost souls who had wandered onto his property yesterday, both physically and mentally. The shedding of the grime and dirt had been a psychological break with their past. Besides, if Anna had been here, she would have offered her clothes to these two as well as helped mend them to fit better.

When Windows saw him standing in the door, she said, “Good morning.”

Cindy stared down at the tabletop. “Good morning, Mr. Denning.”

Denning realized he must have been frowning because Window’s demeanor went from pleasant to apologetic. “I’m sorry we borrowed your wife’s clothes without asking. Our stuff has to be washed and mended before we can wear it again.”

“The only thing they’re good for is burning.” Denning entered the kitchen and sat beside Cindy. “Anna’s sewing kit is the guest bedroom closet. You can use it to take in your clothes. Especially hers. The girl looks like she’s wearing a potato sack.”

“I do not,” Cindy retorted in a playful tone.

“Maybe that should be my nickname for you. Potato.”

Cindy’s mouth contorted into that half smile/half frown only children can pull off.

“You’re not mad?” asked Windows.

“I will be if you didn’t make me breakfast.”

“I got you covered.” Windows jumped up and went over to the stove. Pulling down the oven door, she reached in and removed a plate containing scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon, which she placed in front of Denning. “I’ve been keeping it warm for you.”

“Thanks.”

Windows stepped up to the counter, removed the pot from the coffee maker, and poured some into a mug that she brought to Denning. “It took me a few minutes to figure out how to make breakfast. I didn’t realize you still had electricity. How did you manage that?”

“Solar panels on the roof. They can’t run anything heavy duty like air conditioners, but they provide enough power to keep the appliances and lights going.” Denning scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “These are excellent. What did you do to them?”

“I mixed in some onions, ground up bacon, and pepper. You like them?”

“I may let you do all the cooking,” he joked.

“That won’t last long. The only meal I ever learned how to make in college was scrambled eggs.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Are you serious?”

Denning nodded, unable to speak with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“Thanks. Do you still want me and Cindy to make the rounds with you this morning?”

Denning swallowed. “If you’re going to stay here for a while, you’ll need to know the layout of the farm. Plus I’ll show you the chores I want you to help me with.”

“That’s fine.” Windows gathered the dirty dishes. “I’ll start cleaning. Let us know when you’re ready.”

*  *  *

They walked to the five-foot-tall, reinforced wooden fence that surrounded the property. Denning wore his utility belt with the hunting knife and machete, and carried his rifle over his shoulder. The girls followed. Windows paid careful attention as he showed her the various plots of land where he raised food and what was required to cultivate each crop. Cindy traipsed along behind them, running a blade of grass along the barbed wire, clearly bored with the tour. When they approached the coop and she heard the chickens clucking, she became excited, rushing past the adults to see them. When Denning and Windows reached the coop, they found Cindy kneeling in front of the chicken wire, her fingers through the openings and thirty hens and one rooster flocking around her on the other side.

Cindy’s head shot up, a huge grin on her face. “I’ve never seen chickens before. They’re so friendly.”

“They’re hungry. They think you have food.” Denning stepped over to a metal trash can that was half filled with chicken feed and removed the lid. Taking a plastic bowl from the top of the pile, he scooped up feed until it was full and handed the bowl to Cindy. “Would you like to feed them?”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Denning replaced the lid on the trash can. “Take some in your hand and sprinkle it around. If any fly up at you, brush them away. Ready?”

Cindy nodded. Denning opened the coop door and Cindy rushed inside. The clucking became frantic as the chickens swarmed her, pecking at her legs and each other. The frenzy died down when Cindy grabbed a handful of feed and sprinkled it across the ground.

Windows moved up alongside of Denning and spoke softly. “Thank you. It’s been awhile since she’s been able to act like a little girl.”

“She seems like she could use some good times.”

“She does.”

“The same could be said of you.”

Windows closed her eyes as if that could blind her from the memories.

“Was it that bad?” he asked.

“Not at first. I was lucky and hooked up with a good group of people who took me in and gave me shelter. We had a nice camp set up along the coast of Maine. I led a pretty sheltered life until a few weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

“A rape gang found us. They destroyed the camp and killed everybody. They took me back to their compound. I was forced to do things….” Windows choked up.

“I can imagine.”

“No, you can’t.” The young woman said it without anger or accusation. “Cindy and her mother had been there for months. After I arrived, Cindy’s mom committed suicide and left me a note begging me to look after her daughter. The things I had to do to protect that little girl were disgusting.”

“None of that was your fault.”

“Not when it came to being assaulted. Three nights ago our compound was attacked. I used that opportunity to get Cindy out. In order to escape, I… I wounded a man and left him to die.”

“You had no other choice.”

“I know.” Windows faced him. “What bothers me is that I enjoyed hurting him and leaving him to bleed out.”

Denning stared at her, saddened by what he saw. Windows could be no more than twenty-five, yet she had that toughened appearance about her as if she had already experienced a long life of suffering and hardship. In reality, she had, except all those horrible experiences had been crammed into a few weeks. Outwardly her appearance and demeanor warned others not to fuck with her or Cindy. The eyes betrayed the truth. He detected a sadness in them that her rough exterior could not hide. Windows had not fully coped with the pain and what she had become, and seemed to be begging for absolution.

“You had a right to enjoy it,” said Denning.

“That’s not me.”

“That’s what they
made
you into.” Denning faced Windows and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t do those things to save yourself. You did them to save Cindy, and she’s not even your responsibility.”

“Yes she is.”

“Now she is, only because her mother took the easy way out and pawned off that responsibility onto you. You didn’t have to accept it. You didn’t have to take her with you when you escaped. You didn’t have to take the risk of bringing her to this farm not knowing how I would treat you. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s made you tough.”

Windows lowered her head. “It made me a monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re an incredibly strong woman.”

When Windows raised her head, she fought back the tears. Denning didn’t know what to say. Cindy provided a welcome distraction when she exited the chicken coop, giddy with excitement. “That was so cool.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Come on.” Denning placed a hand on Cindy’s shoulder and led her away. “Let’s complete our rounds.”

The three of them walked along the southern and western perimeter fence, no one saying a word. After a few minutes, they approached the pasture where Walther grazed. As usual, the bull waited by the corner to greet Denning. When they got to within a few feet, Cindy broke away and ran up to Walther. The bull snorted.

“Cindy!” yelled Denning. “Don’t go near him!”

The warning came too late. Cindy jumped up onto the fence, reached over the top, and stuck her hand into the pen. Walther lifted his head. Denning thought he would bite or ram Cindy. Instead, he allowed her to pet him. As her hand glided across his scalp, Walther closed his eyes and pushed against her palm, making sure she continued.

Denning shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Windows.

“Walther is an ornery son a bitch. He hates everyone except me.”

Cindy glanced over her shoulder. “He’s just like you. All he needs is someone to be nice to him.”

“Cindy!” Windows’ jaw dropped. She turned to Denning. “I’m so sorry. She never—”

Denning was laughing too hard to hear her. “Don’t worry. They say animals and kids are good at judging character.”

“Still.”

“She’s right. My wife would have agreed with her.” Some of his good mood drained away at the memory of Anna.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking. The set up you have here.…” Windows hesitated. “Are you a survivalist?”

Denning chuckled. “I prefer the term prepper. Survivalist sounds like someone who is heavily armed and anticipating the end of the world. This is the only weapon I own. That and a .38 revolver I keep in my nightstand.”

“You were prepared for this,” Windows pointed out.

“Not for this.” Denning looked beyond the perimeter fence to the dead world beyond. “I always knew society would collapse someday. I assumed it would be a financial collapse or a pandemic. Maybe even a natural disaster. If anyone had ever told me that the dead would come back to life and start eating the living, I would have laughed at them. Who’s insane now?”

“The world.” Windows grew sullen.

Denning nodded. “It’s a good thing I planned ahead, otherwise I would never have survived this long. I didn’t intend for this to be permanent, though.”

“Are you saying you’re running out of food?”

“No. I’ve stockpiled canned goods and coffee, but they have a limited shelf life. Other than that, I’m fine. I have plenty of farmland to plant on, and I never eat all the eggs so I’ll have a continuous supply of chickens. Plus I have rain barrels located across the farm, so I’ll always have a supply of fresh water. What I don’t have is time.”

“What do you mean?”

Denning tried to hide the vulnerability in his voice. “I’m seventy-two years old, have high blood pressure and a bad heart, and ran out of my medication two months ago. Living like this is not doing my health any good. Sooner or later I’m going to die. It could be tomorrow, it could be in ten years. I have no idea.”

“And you don’t want to die alone.”

“I’ve been alone for the past ten years, so dying alone doesn’t bother me. What I am scared of is having a stroke or coming down with something that incapacitates me. That’s one of the reasons I allowed you and Cindy to stay, to be certain that if anything happens to me, someone will be here to make sure I cross over. Will you promise to do that?”

Before Windows could answer, Cindy stopped petting Walther and raced up to the two adults. “I love Walther. Can I visit him again tomorrow?”

“Of course you can, honey.” Windows wrapped her arms around Cindy and hugged her close. “You can visit him every day. We’re going to stay here for a while.”

“How long?”

“As long as it takes to make sure we take care of things for Mr. Denning.”

“Really?” Cindy grinned at Denning. “Thank you.”

“And thank you,” said Denning, more to Windows than to Cindy.