Rotter Nation (12 page)

“So are you and Wayans,” Robson said.

“He’s probably military, which puts him in a league way above us.” Simmons rolled to one side to face Robson. “Sorry, man. There’s no way to get your friend out.”

“Oh, yes there is.”

“Weren’t you watching? Between those people chained up in the perimeter and that sniper, our chances of taking this place by surprise are damn slim, at best.”

“Yes, I saw. And you’re right.” Robson smiled. “Who says I’m planning on taking this place by surprise?”

Simmons stared at him incredulously, and then a huge grin split his lips. “I’ve only known you for a day, but I believe you’re crazy enough to pull this off.”

A mile outside of Barnston, Robson pulled his Humvee into the parking lot of a Home Depot. Jennifer and Roberta waited by a well-ransacked Kentucky Fried Chicken. They were to provide back-up available in case anything went wrong while scouting the security storage facility while Allard and Frakes stayed behind in Gilmanton to protect the Ryder housing Dravko and Tibor. Seeing the Humvee approaching, the women stepped through the empty frame of the shattered glass door, each scanning to their right or left to make certain no rotters were nearby. Robson made his way to the rear of the restaurant, pulled up alongside the other Humvee, and shut down the engine. Once certain that nothing had noticed them, Jennifer and Roberta joined the rest of the group.

“What did you find out?” asked Jennifer when Robson stepped out of the vehicle.

“Well, we saw Windows. She’s alive, although she’s pretty roughed up. And they’ve set up a cherry picker as a sniper tower inside the compound.”
“Shit,” cursed Jennifer. “Then we won’t be able to get her out?”

“I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“He won’t say,” said Simmons as he joined the conversation. “Which concerns me.”

“Don’t be,” Jennifer said defensively, moving a few inches closer to Robson. “We would never have made it to Site R and back without him. If he has a plan, it’ll work.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Jennifer patted Robson on the forearm. “I’m going to use the restroom before we go.”

Robson nodded, and Jennifer walked off.

“No offense, man,” Simmons said to Robson.

“None taken.”

“Your girlfriend is pretty protective of you.”

“Jennifer?” Robson watched her walk away, and then turned back to Simmons. “We’re not dating.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t bother explaining his relationship with Natalie.

“You could be. She has the hots for you.”

Robson again studied Jennifer, thought about it for a moment, and shook his head. “No way.”

“Trust me, she’s sweet on you.”

“I hate to interrupt you girls while you’re talking about who likes who,” Wayans said, walking up to them, “but we have someone keeping an eye on us at Home Depot.”

“Human or rotter?” Robson asked.

“Human. When I got out of the Hummer, I noticed something move behind the glass doors. I’ve been keeping an eye on the building without being obvious, and someone is definitely there.”

“Do you think it’s a gang member?” asked Simmons.

“Could be, though I doubt it. So far I’ve only seen the one person, and he’s not very friggin’ good at concealing himself.”

“I don’t want to take any chances,” said Robson. “If he is one of the gang members, I don’t want him tipping off the others. Simmons and I will take a Hummer, circle around in back of Home Depot, and check it out. Wayans, stay here and watch the others. See if you can set up a firing position to cover us, and stay out of sight.”

Wayans nodded. “If I see this guy again, do you want me to take him down?”

“Not unless he’s about to shoot first or make a break for it. I’d like to take him alive.”

“Isn’t that risky?” Simmons asked.

“If he is a gang member, maybe we can interrogate him and get some insights into the compound before we attack it.”

“Makes sense.” Simmons headed for their Humvee. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

* * *

Less than five minutes later, Robson and Simmons pulled up behind Home Depot. Robson stepped out, combing the area for intruders, his AA-12 in firing position.

Simmons keyed his radio. “Isaac, any change in the situation?”

“Not a thing,” responded Wayans. “He’s prone by the exit, watching us through the glass.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the end of the restaurant farthest away from Home Depot. I have a clear shot at our friend. He can’t see me.”

“Is he armed?”

“Not with anything I can see.”

“So if we get close to him, we can surprise him.”

“Roger that.”

Simmons motioned to Robson. “You hear that?”

Robson nodded. “Tell Wayans to let us know if our friend moves.”

Simmons relayed the message. Robson checked the back door to the building. As he assumed, it was locked. He moved down to the loading dock and grasped the handle to the sliding doors, but they were locked, too. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Simmons asked.

“All the doors are bolted from the inside. We have no way of getting in without making so much noise we’ll tip off whoever is out front.”

“We could circle around.” Simmons moved to the edge of the building and peered around the corner. “Isaac says the guy is inside the building. If we stick close to the walls, we could be on top of him before he knew we were there.”

“Let’s do it.”

The two men moved along the right side of the building staying as close to the wall as possible. Every few seconds, Simmons checked behind him to make sure they weren’t about to be ambushed. When they reached the end, Robson peered around the corner. The exit doors were fifty feet down. From this vantage point, they could not see the intruder, which meant he could not see them.

Robson grabbed his microphone and whispered. “Isaac, we’re about to move toward the doors. I’m going to stop ten feet away. When I wave, fire one round through the glass over the guy’s head.”

“Roger that.”

Both men made their way along the front of the building, their backs pressed against the wall. Robson held his AA-12 beside him, and Simmons had his Colt .45 drawn and ready. When ten feet from the exit door, Robson waved.

A shot rang out. The glass door shattered, and a muffled curse came from inside the building. Robson charged, with Simmons right behind. The two centered themselves in the doorway, their weapons aimed. A middle-aged man in jeans and a gray sweatshirt lay on the floor, shaking his head and brushing off shards of glass. When he saw the two men standing in front of him, he gasped and tried to get to his feet.

Robson stepped toward him. “Move and you’re a dead man.”

The man’s gaze darted between Robson and Simmons. He raised his arms, his hands shaking as he lifted them above his head. “Come on, guys. Don’t hurt me. Please!”

Simmons leaned closer to Robson. “I don’t think this guy is with the rape gang.”

The entire group sat around the rectory’s dining room table, all eyes focused on their guest from Home Depot who sat at the far end. “Guest” was the best word to describe him, because this guy posed no danger. He possessed no survival skills. When they confiscated his Smith and Wesson .38 Special and his Heckler and Koch 223 semi-automatic rifle, he had the safety locked on the former and had not chambered a round in the latter. He had barricaded all but one entrance into the store, and had set up his safe room in a corner office with no other way out, trapping himself inside Home Depot. He didn’t even have a bug-out bag in case he had to make a run for it. Robson figured this guy presented more of a danger to himself than to them or the rotters.

Robson knew nothing about him. He was middle-aged and of average height and looks. His demeanor reeked of cowardice, from the constantly hunched shoulders, the inability to make eye contact, and his avoidance of confrontation. They had not talked to him on the way back to Gilmanton, and the presence of Wayans seated beside him in the Humvee kept their guest silent and sullen. After sunset, when Dravko and Tibor joined them, he freaked out. He perked up only after they offered him something hot to eat. Their guest wolfed down his food as if he had not eaten in weeks, yet he still hadn’t spoken. Robson pitied the guy. If he had been out here this long, he had definitely seen some heavy shit. Unlike the rest of them, he was not prepared psychologically to process what he had experienced.

Robson leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I know you’re hungry, friend. But can you slow down long enough to tell us your name?”

Their guest stopped eating, his cheeks still stuffed with food. His eyes darted back and forth between the various people seated at the table.

Robson sighed. “If we were going to hurt you, do you think we’d feed you first?”

“You might if you were fattening me up for
them.
” Their guest focused his gaze on the vampires.

Dravko rolled his eyes. Tibor sneered, showing fangs.

When no one responded, their guest put down his knife and fork and swallowed. “I’m Tom Caslow. From Salt Lake City.”

“How did you make it all the way to the East Coast?” asked Simmons.

“My family and I were vacationing in New England when the outbreak hit. You know, the Freedom Trail and stuff like that. We were in Salem when we first heard about the virus. In the Witch Museum, of all places. We spent the next two days in the hotel room watching the news, hoping it would all blow over. It didn’t. So we headed to Logan to catch a flight out. By then the city had been quarantined. We had no idea what to do. Thank God we ran into Nick, a retired cop, who took us with him to Nahant. That’s where he lived. Have you ever been there? It’s an island off the coast of Massachusetts connected to the mainland by a causeway. Nick said he and some of his friends had closed the causeway and isolated the island, and would ride out the outbreak from there. He seemed trustworthy, so we followed him. It’s a good thing we did, or who knows what would have happened?”

“Slow down,” said Robson, holding up his hand to cut off Caslow. Had they missed someone? “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, my wife, Debra, and my daughter, Cindy. The three of us had come to New England because we wanted something different and exciting.” Tom forced a chuckle. “I guess we got our wish.”

“If you were holed up in an isolated community, how did you wind up here?” asked Robson.

“Nahant saved our lives. Nick and the other retired cops maintained order and controlled who would be allowed in to the community. Because the only access was the causeway, they kept out anyone who they thought might be trouble. Too bad it didn’t stop the dead.”

“They overwhelmed the causeway?” asked Simmons.

Caslow shook his head. “We would have been prepared for that. None of us ever thought that those things could walk underwater, though I guess it makes sense since they don’t breathe. One night, about six weeks ago, several thousand came ashore near the southern tip of the island. No one expected it, and the living dead overran Nahant in a few hours. Practically no one made it out. We wouldn’t have either if Nick and some of his friends hadn’t helped us. They shoved us into a pair of Dodge Rams, crashed their own barricades, and got us off the island. We headed inland, trying to avoid the heavily populated coasts.”

“What happened to Nick?” asked Simmons.

“Our group got ambushed a few miles north of Concord. We had stopped to refuel when a swarm of the dead came out of nowhere and overran our vehicles before we could get to them. I grabbed the only car we could find. A Toyota Corolla. Nick and the others tried to fight them off and were swarmed. We barely got away with our lives.”

“Where’s your family?” asked Jennifer.

For the first time, Caslow didn’t ramble. His body trembled. He closed his eyes tight, fighting back tears. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued. “I remembered what Nick had said about being safer where there were fewer people, so we headed west. Everything was fine until we reached this area. We had nothing other than the rifle and the revolver Nick gave me. All the surrounding towns had been stripped clean. We were driving around when we passed this storage facility that looked occupied. I wanted to stop and ask for help until I saw all these people tied to the ground out front.”

“The rape gang,” said Robson. The others around the table nodded.

“You know them?’

“We’ve had dealings with them before.”

“Then I’m surprised you’re still here.” Caslow sighed. “I got out of there as fast as I could. Drove for about an hour and pulled off near one of those convenience store-gas station combos. I was inside checking for food when two military Humvees pulled into the parking lot. They dragged Debra and Cindy out of the car and took them away. When I realized what happened, I followed them back to the storage facility. That happened about a month ago.”

“And you just friggin’
left
them there?” Wayans said with such anger that it startled Robson.

“Of course not!” Caslow’s eyes darted to the others, begging for approval. “I’ve spent almost every day for the last month watching that compound and trying to come up with a way to get them out. Have you seen that place?”

“Yes,” answered Robson.

“Then you know it’s impossible to get in, especially for one guy.” Caslow glared at Wayans. “Why would you think I just left my wife and daughter there?”

“Because you did nothing to save them.” This time Jennifer spoke, and her words dripped with contempt.

“W-what could I d-do?” Caslow stammered. “I have no clue what I’m doing in a situation like this. I’m not a survivalist. I never even served in the military. I don’t even own a gun. I’m an elementary school teacher.”

“You’re a man,” said Jennifer. “You should have defended your family.”

“I-If I had tried, the gang would have killed me. Then where would my family be?”

“The same place they are now. But at least they would know their husband and father cared enough to fight for them and not just leave them with a rape gang.”

Caslow stared at Jennifer, stunned. At first, Robson thought he was shocked by the harshness of her tone and the accusation against him, until he spoke.

“D-did you say ‘rape gang’?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God.” Caslow dropped his head and sobbed.

Robson glanced around the room and noticed that no one showed sympathy toward him. Jennifer stood up and stormed into the kitchen. Wayans glared, shaking his head in disgust. Robson was the only one who had even a shred of empathy toward Caslow. Maybe because he couldn’t get Susan out of his mind, how they had been attacked by a horde of swarmers in traffic outside of Newington, and how he had left her when the living dead overtook them because she couldn’t run fast enough.

“What do we do with him?” Simmons asked.

“I say we send him on his way first thing in the morning,” suggested Frakes.

“Why wait that long?” asked Wayans.

DeWitt cleared his throat. “We should at least wait until sunrise to give him a fighting chance.”

“Fuck him,” snapped Roberta. “He doesn’t deserve one after what he did to his wife and kid.”

Caslow raised his head. “I’m right here, you know.”

The glare that both Wayans and Roberta shot his way cowed Caslow.

Robson wondered how the others would react if they knew he had once displayed a similar lack of courage. “I vote to keep him around a while longer.”

“Are you friggin’ nuts?” Wayans blurted out.

Simmons agreed, though he was more reserved. “I agree. This guy’s a coward, has no useful skills, and would be nothing but a drain on resources. He’s of no use to us.”

“Actually, he has something very valuable. Information. If what he says is true, he’s been spying on their compound for almost a month—”

“It’s true,” Caslow said animatedly, trying to curry favor.

Robson flashed him an expression that warned him not to press his luck. “He probably knows things about that compound and how the gang operates that could be of use to us. As long as he cooperates, I think we should keep him around.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Simmons.

Wayans begrudgingly nodded his approval.

Tibor stood up and stormed out of the dining room, startling everyone at the table. Dravko watched his fellow vampire leave, and then shrugged his shoulders in confusion. He finally said, “We’re in.”

Everyone else concurred, except for Jennifer, who had returned from the kitchen. She stared out the window into the dark, her back to the others and her arms folded across her chest. After a few seconds of silence, Robson prodded, “Is it unanimous?”

“I won’t object as long as I have to have nothing to do with him,” Jennifer said, her eyes filled with contempt for Caslow. “To be honest, though, I don’t trust the bastard. If I have one bullet left and it’s between him and a rotter, I’ll shoot him in the leg and leave him behind.”

“Deal.”

“Thank you all.” Caslow sniffed. “I won’t let you down.”

“You better not.” Robson stood, picked up his mug, and headed for the kitchen. He paused by Caslow’s chair. “I’m going to get some more coffee. When I come back, you’re going tell me everything you know about that compound.”