Rotter Nation (11 page)

Last night had been a good night for Windows. Meat had gone out for several hours and returned horny and drunk. He had almost been gentle with her, foregoing rough sex and his usual litany of derogatory remarks. Thankfully, he finished after a few minutes and passed out, which allowed her to get a good sleep for a change. As an added bonus, Meat was still asleep when she got up this morning, so she snuck out to do her breakfast detail without having to perform a morning quickie.

It didn’t dawn on Windows until she reached the kitchen that she had not seen Debra or Cindy all night, and neither of them was there to help prepare breakfast. A sense of panic began to set in.

Tracey saw her and frowned. “It’s about time you showed up. The three of us have been doing all the work while you and Debra whore for Meat.”

“I haven’t seen Debra or Cindy since yesterday,” snapped Windows.

Karen and Lisa glanced at each other with an expression of concern.

“What’s wrong?” Windows asked. The women averted their eyes. Windows grabbed Tracey by the arm and yanked to get her attention. “Tell me.”

Tracey shrugged her arm away. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re the new flavor of the month for Meat, so Debra is out on her ass.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means the bitch and her little brat are fair game now. They’re either in the Rape Room or on the Line.”

Windows rushed out of the kitchen, ignoring Tracey’s protests about having to cook breakfast on her own. She found Cindy crouched in front of the Rape Room, clutching her knees tightly against her chest.

Windows sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her. Cindy leaned in close, but would not meet her gaze.

“Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

Cindy nodded.

Windows did not want to know the answer to the next question. She took a deep breath and asked. “Did anyone touch you or hurt you?”

This time Cindy shook her head. Windows exhaled with relief.

The little girl looked up. Tears filled her eyes. “They hurt Mommy.”

“Who hurt your mother?”

“They all did.”

Cindy leaned her head into Windows. She felt the girl’s tears soaking her shirt. Windows held her tight and let her cry. After a few minutes, she asked, “Where is your mother now?”

Cindy pointed to the Rape Room. “She’s in there. They took her in last night. Mommy told me to stay out here and wait for her, and not to go in no matter what.”

“You’re a good girl.” Windows hugged Cindy and kissed the top of her head. “Let me go check on your mother. Stay here and don’t move, and scream like hell if anyone bothers you.”

“I will.”

Windows stood up and stepped over to the door. Grabbing the handle, she raised it just enough to crouch and duck under, and then lowered it behind her. The moment she saw the interior, the memories of her second night on the compound rushed back to her, numbing her senses. She fought back the urge vomit. She had to check on Debra.

She found Debra curled up naked in a fetal position on the floor under the wooden table, her back to the door. The torn remnants of her pants and blouse covered her bruised body, providing scant protection against the cold. At first, Windows feared the worst until she saw Debra’s chest rising and falling with each breath. Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief until she moved around to her front. Debra had been roughed up pretty bad. She had discolored bruises across her thighs and cheeks as well as a split lip. Her right eye was swollen shut from where someone had punched her. Small streams of blood trickled from her anus and vagina. Windows didn’t even want to imagine what had gone on in here last night.

Bending over, Windows placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently shook her. “Debra, are you okay?”

Debra’s eyes shot open, growing wide in terror. A sharp, fearful cry escaped from her mouth. She punched and kicked at Windows, so stricken with panic that most of the blows glanced off. After a few seconds, Debra rolled over facing the opposite wall and scurried on her hands and knees for the far corner. She crouched there, her back to Windows, whimpering.

“It’s okay. It’s me, Windows. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Debra turned her head and, seeing her friend, calmed down. Windows came closer and crouched three feet away, just out of striking distance. “Are you all right?”

“Do I look all right?” Debra screamed.

“What happened?”

“They… they….”

“Who are ‘they’?”

A few moments passed while the woman sobbed. She then took a deep breath and began. “Meat brought me here last night. I thought maybe, after spending so much time with you, he wanted some alone time with me. When we got here they…. Fifteen guys were waiting for me. They were all drinking and having a good time, and Meat made me have sex with all of them.”

“I’m sorry.”

Debra shook her head. “That wasn’t the bad part. By the time I had finished and gotten dressed, they were all rowdy. They wanted a second go around. When I refused, they beat me up, tore my clothes off, and took me two and three at a time. Meat stood in the corner, laughing and egging them on. The more they humiliated me, the louder he laughed.”

“Where was Cindy during all this?”

“Outside the door.” Debra panicked and sat upright. “Oh, my God. Where is Cindy?”

“She’s fine.” Windows wrapped and arm around Debra. “I found her sitting outside. No one harmed her.”

Debra leaned into Windows and sobbed. “This is my fault. I hooked you up with Meat hoping to get a break, and instead he picked you over me. This is going to happen to me every night now!” she wailed.

Windows hugged Debra close and let her cry. She remained silent. Partly because she didn’t know what to say, and partly because she knew this could just as easily be her.

Robson, DeWitt, Simmons, and Wayans lay prone on top of the hill overlooking the storage facility, concealed behind a row of bushes. Robson realized he had spied on the rape gang from this same hill just two weeks earlier. Each of them examined the facility through a pair of binoculars, except for Wayans, who used the scope on his sniper rifle, ready to defend the group if necessary. The afternoon sun sat high in the sky, allowing them to get a good view. DeWitt divided his attention between the binoculars and a notepad, jotting down every detail of the compound.

“Jesus Christ,” whispered Simmons. “What the fuck are those people doing tied down outside the compound?”

“We think it’s their version of an early warning system,” Robson replied. “While the rotters are feeding on them, it gives the compound time to man their defenses.”

“But who are those people?”

Wayans huffed. “Probably survivors from Locke Lake and other towns they raided.”

“Have you ever been here before?” asked Robson.

Simmons shrugged. “About five months ago, right after we first noticed these guys cruising the area. We tracked them back here to see what trouble we faced. At that time, they were turning the facility into a fortified compound and hadn’t set up an outer perimeter yet.”

“It’s disgusting,” said DeWitt.

“It’s friggin’ ingenious,” said Wayans.

Robson lowered the binoculars. “What do you mean?”

“Those people tied up out there are gonna make a fuss no matter who shows up, including us. Our chances of sneaking in to get your friend just dropped by more than half.”

Robson hadn’t thought about that. If just one of those people started screaming, mistaking them for rotters, the entire compound would be alerted. A tough job just got damn near impossible.

“We got activity,” said Simmons.

A black Hummer H3 sped down the main road and slowed as it approached the compound. The vehicle bounced off the road and into the driveway, dislodging a backpack from the rear that fell onto the pavement. The driver came to a stop in front of the gate and sounded the horn. After more than a minute, the main gate to the facility opened a few feet and two figures emerged. One stopped in the center of the security zone while the other rushed to the chain link fence, unsecured the lock, and slid the gate aside. While the Hummer pulled in and stopped by the first figure, the one who opened the gate stepped past the Hummer and walked outside to get the backpack.

* * *

Price climbed out of the driver’s seat and frowned as Carter approached. “What took you so long to open the gate?”

Carter stopped ten feet from his boss. “You’re back earlier than expected. I wanted to be sure everything was okay before I let anyone in. Those vampires are still out there.”

“And you think they’re a threat in the middle of the fucking day?”

“No, but the assholes who took down Ike and the others are.”

Price held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I’m pissed. We’ve been out there for weeks searching for these people, and all we’ve done is waste half our gas reserves.”

“Maybe we should stand down.”

Price shook his head. “I don’t want to get caught with our pants down like we did last time.”

“Last time was different. No one expected to run into a truck full of blood suckers. Besides, if they were coming after us, they probably would have done so by now.”

Price turned from his deputy and stared out across the road. Of course, Carter was right. This band of mercenaries had only been passing through when Ike’s team had come across them. Sure, they would want revenge for what he did to their compound, assuming these guys even made it back from Pennsylvania, which under the circumstances….

A flock of birds took flight from the tree line around the compound, their wings flapping furiously as they made a sudden turn and headed for the safety of the nearby woods. Seconds later, a herd of deer bolted down the road. Price knew what caused the mass panic.

“Runners!”

Jimmy had picked up the backpack when he heard Price yell. He stared at Price, confused, and then glanced over his shoulder as five runners broke through the tree line, chasing after the deer. On seeing Jimmy, they veered off the road and rushed the gate. Jimmy dropped the backpack and broke into a run.

Those inside the Hummer had already climbed out of the vehicle and dashed toward the compound gate. Carter made the first steps in that direction, pausing to check on Price.

“Come on!” Carter yelled.

Jimmy slowed down and tried to close the gate. It cost him his life. He had slid it halfway shut when the first runner reached him. Jimmy turned to escape, but from a standstill could not get up enough speed, and made it only a few feet before the runner tackled him to the ground. The second runner fell on him. Jimmy howled in agony as they tore open his abdomen and feasted on his intestines.

The other three pushed their way through the half-open gate, their attention fixed on Price.

“Price, move your ass!” yelled Carter, who had retreated to the main gate. The guards were already sliding it shut. “Now!”

The last yell brought Price back to reality. He didn’t have time to get his M&P15-22LR from the Hummer, so he sprinted for the gate. Around him, everyone tethered to stakes in the security zone screamed or begged for help. With luck, the runners would ignore him and go after the easy prey.

* * *

Windows and the rest of the kitchen staff were preparing lunch when all hell broke loose inside the compound. Those gang members milling around waiting to be served dropped their plates and dashed off, their voices joining the fray. Windows could feel the panic spreading through the compound.

Debra clutched Cindy against her chest.

“What’s up?” Windows asked.

“We’re under attack.”

Windows’ hopes soared. Maybe the others had come to rescue her. “From who?”

“Not from who. From deaders.”

Windows dashed out of the kitchen, leaving the other women cowering, and ran off after the men to see if she could be of help.

* * *

Price raced as fast as he could, and still the gate seemed too far away. Terrified shrieks came from behind him. Turning his head, he saw two of the runners break away and head into the security zone, each singling out one of the people tethered to stakes. The closest, a woman, yanked so hard against her restraints that blood spurted from her wrist. The other, an older man, screamed and drew his tattered blanket over his head. Both runners ripped into them. The fifth followed behind Price and closed in fast. Christ, if only he hadn’t left his weapon in the Hummer.

The gate stood partially open, with just enough space for him to slide by. Only a few feet to go. He could hear the footsteps of the runner closing in. Price increased his speed. The gate opened a little wider, allowing Price through. Just as he passed, Carter stepped into the opening, a Model 986 9mm revolver clutched in his hand. He raised the weapon and fired five rounds into the runner’s face, vaporizing its head. The decapitated body crumpled to the ground inches from the gate. Stepping inside, Carter closed it shut and ordered the others to secure it.

Price leaned against a nearby motorcycle, trying to catch his breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you okay?”

“A little winded.” Taking a deep breath, Price pointed to the gate. “But we need to take care of those things.”

“I’m on it.” Carter snapped his fingers to get the attention of the closest gang member. “Get my rifle.”

* * *

Windows reached the main gate as two of the gang members secured the lock. Carter issued orders while Price leaned against a motorcycle and bent over, panting. With luck, the son of a bitch had been bitten and would die soon. Ignoring them, she made her way to the gate. She hoped to see something, but the gate was closed too securely, leaving less than an inch of space. She placed her eye against the opening and peered out, moving her head from side to side to get a better view until a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away.

Carter glared at her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see what was going on. Maybe I can help.”

Carter lifted her up by her arm, forcing Windows to stand on her toes. “Maybe you’d like to be bait again and draw those things into the open?”

The memory of that afternoon cowed her. She averted her gaze and shook her head. Carter shoved her aside with such force she nearly fell over. “Then get back to the kitchen with the other cunts.”

Someone ran up with a rifle and a satchel of ammunition and handed it to Carter. He swung them over his shoulders and made his way toward where a cherry picker sat against the outer wall. Windows took advantage of the momentary distraction and snuck away, chastising herself. This wasn’t Fort McClary. She’d be dead in no time if she kept on trying to be part of the team. She headed back to the kitchen to check on Debra and Cindy.

* * *

“There she is!” DeWitt nearly yelled.

“Who?” Robson asked, his attention focused on the rotter attack.

“Windows. Approaching the main gate.”

Robson swung his binoculars to see inside the compound. Sure enough, Windows was amongst the throng of people racing around the main gate. She didn’t appear to be in the best shape. Then he saw the tall asshole who had been issuing orders grab her by the arms and rough her up. No wonder she looked like she did. Robson studied the asshole’s face. If he had the chance, he would make sure the fucker got some karmic payback. Robson kept his eyes on Windows until she skulked out of the area and disappeared from sight. They needed to get her out as soon as possible.

“Shit,” Simmons spat.

“What’s wrong?” asked Robson.

“Things for us just went from sucks to sucks big time.” Simmons pointed.

Robson followed his finger, and from \the other side of the compound, a cherry picker basket lifted above the opposite side of the wall. In it stood the asshole, a Macmillan TAC-50 sniper rifle clutched in his hands.

* * *

Carter scanned the outside perimeter and gauged the situation. Two of the runners had devoured Jimmy, and had his intestines spread out on the pavement around him. The third was still chewing on the woman. Attracted by the panicked screams from the nearby people, the fourth had stopped feeding on the older man and moved on to the next person, a middle-aged woman who pleaded with it for mercy.

Like that would work, you stupid fucking cunt
.

Shouldering the Macmillan TAC-50, Carter aimed at Jimmy and peered through the scope. The kid’s arms still twitched. Poor bastard. Carter didn’t have a clear shot at Jimmy’s head, so he centered the crosshairs on the back skull of the nearest runner that was bent over Jimmy’s abdomen and shoving intestines into its mouth. Carter took a deep breath and held it, wrapped his finger around the trigger, and squeezed in one fluid motion. The recoil from the rifle pushed against his shoulder. Through the scope, he saw the runner’s head explode in a cloud of blood and gore. It fell forward across Jimmy, covering the gaping wound and startling the other runner. A second later, that one’s head jerked back when a bullet entered its forehead above the bridge of its nose, blowing the entire rear skull against the chain link fence. Carter now had a clear shot at Jimmy. Chambering a third round, he lined up on the kid’s head, steadied himself, and took off Jimmy’s head with a single shot.

Swinging the rifle to his right, Carter aimed at the first of the other two runners feeding on the woman. It sat hunched forward, dipping its gore-laden hands into her chest. Carter noticed it chewing on something solid, either her heart or liver. He set the crosshairs above its right ear and fired. The concussion from the shot spun the runner around one hundred eighty degrees and propelled it to the other side of the body.

The last runner had ripped the left arm off of its victim and sat on its haunches, chewing the flesh like a dog on a bone. The middle-aged woman tried crawling away on the stump, getting only so far because of her restraints. Carter finished off the runner with a single shot directly between the eyes, giving a mental fist pump when its head exploded.

Carter then centered the scope on the middle-aged woman. It dawned on him that he didn’t know a damn thing about the people on the Line. He didn’t know their names, where they came from, or even how long they had been out there. In fact, until now he had not even given these people much thought. Not that it mattered. They meant nothing to him. However, they had served their purpose, providing decoys long enough for the others to make it to safety. Price wouldn’t be alive if it not for them. He owed them something for the service, something humane.

Carter’s next three shots put each of the victims out of their misery.

* * *

Simmons waited until the cherry picker began its descent before placing the binoculars down on the dirt in front of him. He gestured toward the gunman. “That guy is a first-class sniper.”