Rotter Nation (22 page)

“Television.” Wayans thought about it for a moment and nodded. “I miss television the most.”

“That’s it?” laughed DeWitt. “Of all the things you could miss from the pre-outbreak days, you miss television the most?”

“What’s friggin’ wrong with that? I used to love the SyFy Channel, though that sounds pretty lame now.”

“What about you?” Jennifer asked Simmons. “Excluding family and friends, what do miss most about life before the outbreak?”

“Crime.”

“Stopping it or committing it?” chided Frakes.

“I know it sounds weird. A better answer is probably solving crime. It kept me busy. The worst part about being here is I’m bored out of my mind. I now understand why so many cops can’t handle retirement.” Simmons leaned forward in his chair and smiled good-naturedly at Jennifer. “What do you miss?”

“Drinking a hot cup of peppermint tea while reading a book.”

“I didn’t picture you as the nerdy type,” Robson remarked.

“Would it make me less nerdy if I told you I did that in silk pajamas?”

“No,” he lied, enjoying the mental image.

“Your turn.”

Robson thought a moment. “The beach.”

“The beach is still there, man,” said DeWitt.

“I mean enjoying the beach. When I was with the sheriff’s department, I’d always stop by the coast on the way home, park for a few minutes, and just listen to the waves rolling in. I found it relaxing. It used to give me a few moments of solace. Now it just reminds me of how alone we are.”

Jennifer reached out for his hand and squeezed, and then steered the conversation back on track.

“DeWitt?”

“Dunkin Donuts iced coffee.”

“Oh, my God. Yes.” Allard closed his eyes. “With a half dozen honey dipped Munchkins.”

Frakes shook his head. “Ever been to Revere Beach down in Massachusetts? Kelly’s makes the best roast beef sandwiches in the world. We used to drive down there every Friday night for dinner. That’s a meal to miss.”

Seeing that Roberta appeared ill at ease, Jennifer asked, “What’s wrong?”

Roberta’s eyes went from Jennifer to the two cops and back again. “I don’t know if I should say.”

“We’re all friends here. Go on.”

Roberta shrugged. “I’d kill right now for a joint.”

Wayans threw his head back and laughed. “You and me both.”

Roberta showed her surprise. “But you’re a cop.”

Even Simmons laughed now. “That doesn’t mean we don’t know how to have fun.”

Allard nudged Roberta in the arm. “I bet you those two could hook you up.”

She flushed red from embarrassment.

Jennifer glared at Caslow, who sat separated from the others, staring at his plate. “What do you miss most?”

Without lifting his head, he responded, “My wife and daughter.”

“Family and friends are excluded.”

“I don’t care.” He fixed his eyes on Jennifer. “They’re the only things I miss from my past life.”

The joyous mood drained away as everyone remembered a loved one who didn’t make it past that first week. After a minute of morose silence, DeWitt spoke.

“I have a question. Once we rescue Windows and Caslow’s family, then what?”

“We bring them back here,” Robson answered.

“I mean, what about all the other people being held hostage at the compound? What are we going to do with them?”

Robson sat back in his chair. He hadn’t thought about that. The defense perimeter held thirty to forty people, none of whom could survive on their own for more than a few days. Most of them probably wouldn’t last long even under his protection. And God only knew how many more were inside the compound that he wasn’t aware of. He couldn’t set up a new camp here. Although the garage served well enough as a temporary shelter, it would be inadequate to house another forty people. Setting out to find another location would be a death sentence for most of those who survived the raid. Without food and proper medical care, few of them would make it past the first week. He didn’t even want to contemplate what would happen if rotters attacked the convoy. Best case scenario, even if most of them lived through the trip and they found an ideal location to reestablish camp, he still faced the prospect of fortifying, supplying, and defending the new compound with far fewer able bodied personnel than he would have mouths to feed. Christ, by trying to do the right thing he may have condemned them all to death.

What really sucked was that he could still change his mind about this raid.

“Boss?” DeWitt asked. “Did you hear me?”

“I did. I just hadn’t thought about that before. I’ve been concentrating on saving Windows.”

Simmons shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I hate to be an asshole about this, but we can’t accommodate so many people.”

“You’re not being an asshole,” said Robson. “You’ve done more than enough for us already, and I wouldn’t put that burden on you.”

“Friggin’ sorry, man.”

“It’s okay. Honest.” Robson stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to figure this out.”

Leaving the rectory, he took a slow walk up the road away from the garage, trying to find a solution between two unenviable options. If one existed, he couldn’t come up with it. His choices sucked. If he did the right thing and tried to save everyone, more than likely he would get them all killed. If he saved only his own people, they had a pretty good chance of making it, yet the price would be his conscience.

He heard the footsteps approaching then Jennifer called out, “Wait up.”

He turned around as she raced up. “I need to be alone.”

“I know. I want to say something. You have a tough decision to make, and either way you’re going to feel guilty about what you do. I’ve been there. Dr. Compton and I agonized for days over whether we should try the vaccine on human volunteers, fully aware of the risks. Every time a volunteer turned, we felt horrible.”

“Thanks.” Robson turned to walk away.

Jennifer grabbed his hand and pulled him around to face her, keeping a grip on his palm so he couldn’t leave. “I’m not finished. We did things we would never have done under normal conditions, made decisions we knew would cost lives. We had to under the circumstances. Things have changed. As difficult as it is for any of us to grasp, sometimes we have to sacrifice people so humanity can thrive. It’s not easy, but the tough decisions have to be made. Do you think any less of me because of what we had to do to create the Zombie Vaccine?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you shouldn’t think any less of yourself. All I’m trying to say is, do what you think is best for all of us, not what you think a society that died nine months ago would want you to do. Whatever, decision you make, we’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I mean that. It does put things into perspective.”

“I’m glad.” Jennifer gave his hand a squeeze and broke the grip. She turned to leave, throwing over her shoulder, “I’m here if you need
anything
.”

Robson watched her walk off until she disappeared into the dark. For the first time in weeks, he had thoughts of being intimate with someone. Only this time those thoughts were not of Natalie.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Emily said.

“This can’t be the end of the line,” protested Ari. “There has to be a way around.”

“Maybe on foot,” replied Emily. “There’s no way we’re getting the yacht past that.”

That
referred to the pontoon bridge one hundred feet in front of them that stretched across the Mississippi River a few miles north of St. Louis.

Natalie stood on the flying bridge between the two women, scanning the area with her binoculars. On either bank, the approaches for both the Chain of Rocks and New Chain of Rocks Bridges stood intact; however, one of the central spans on each bridge had collapsed or, judging from the jagged edges of the surrounding spans and the burnt marks on the concrete abutments, had been blown away. Between the two damaged structures, the military had erected a pontoon bridge across the Mississippi that blocked further access along the river. To the north of the pontoon bridge, dozens of boats of various sizes had been abandoned, either stacked against the bridge, moored to the supports of the New Chain of Rocks Bridge, or run aground on the sandbar that stretched for half a mile along the west bank of the Mississippi. Fortunately, she saw no signs of rotters.

Natalie scowled. “How far are we from the Missouri River?”

“It’s less than two miles north of us,” Emily replied.

“And how far to Omaha?”

“Another four hundred miles.”

“Shit.” Natalie used the binoculars to scan the boats along the sandbar.

“What if we removed the center span of the pontoon bridge?” suggested Stephanie. “We could let it flow downriver, along with the boats clogged up behind it. That would open a way for us.”

Emily shook her head. “The only problem is we don’t have the tools or the know how to do something like that.”

“Maybe we could use explosives to blow it away?” Ari grasped at ideas.

“Do you know where we can get explosives?” Emily had a tinge of frustration in her voice.

“No.”

“Both of you, can it.” Natalie placed the binoculars on the console. “There’s no way of getting past that bridge.”

“So this is it?” asked Ari. “We’re stuck here?”

“Nope. We’re just changing boats.” Natalie stepped over to Emily. “Can you sail anything?”

“Pretty much. Why?”

Natalie pointed to the sandbar. “There’s a couple of dozen vessels beached up there. I’m sure we can find one that still works that’ll take us to Omaha.”

Emily grinned. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Of course it is. It’s my plan.” Natalie winked at her. “Ari, go below and tell the rest of the Angels to get ready. Bring all the ammo and as much food and water as they can carry in their backpacks. And bring our gear. We meet on deck in fifteen minutes.”

Ari headed below, and Natalie grabbed the binoculars, scanning the sandbar one final time. Nothing stirred, not even wild animals.

Dear God, please let us pull this off
.

* * *

Emily maneuvered the yacht alongside the pontoon bridge and cut the engines. Ari jumped off, used a dock line to anchor the bow to the bridge, and then ran astern to do the same. Once she had moored the yacht, she climbed back on board.

The twelve Angels stood in a semi-circle on the main deck near the transom. Each wore their leather jackets unbuttoned and had a backpack strapped over their shoulders. Ari held the briefcase containing the Zombie Vaccine in her left hand. Natalie took Ari’s M-16A2 and swung it over her shoulder.

“Okay, ladies. This should be easy. I’ve been watching that beach for twenty minutes and haven’t seen any rotters. I have no idea if there are any in the boats. So when we get to the sandbar, don’t talk unless it’s necessary. Emily and I will check each boat until we find one that works. Ari, keep close to us. The rest of you stay on the sandbar and keep your eyes open. Any questions?”

None.

“Then let’s rock, ladies.”

The Angels disembarked from the yacht and onto the pontoon bridge. Before she left, Emily bent over and patted the gunwale. “I’m gonna miss ya, honey.”

They walked along the pontoon bridge for a few hundred feet. Natalie noticed that the girls maintained a defense stance, with half of them on each side of the span on the lookout for danger. The women jumped down from the bridge and, as they made their way down the sandbar, formed a circle around Natalie, Emily, and Ari. They proceeded along the bank closest to the river where most of the boats were beached. Emily stopped after a few minutes and studied each of the vessels.

“What are you looking for?” Natalie asked.

Emily ignored her and took off. “That.”

Maintaining formation, the Angels followed her until she stopped fifty feet from the end of the sandbar in front of a police boat emblazoned with the logo of the Missouri State Water Patrol. It was thirty feet long, with a cabin on the centerline and an exposed deck to the rear, and no lower deck. Emily walked around the exterior, checking the portion of the hull lodged on the sand. When she reached the stern, ten feet of which extended into the river, she waded in up to her hips and viewed the hull. When she came ashore and rejoined Natalie, she had a grin on her face.

“I don’t think there’s any damage to the hull or propellers, so she should be seaworthy.”

“Are you sure?” asked Natalie. “It looks awfully small.”

“It’s not as comfortable as the yacht. It’s faster, though, and should get us there by morning.”

“I’m sold. Let’s just hope it runs,” Natalie said. “Doreen, you’re with us. Tiara, keep an eye on and Ari. The rest of you, spread out.”

The Angels formed a semi-circle that extended out one hundred feet. Natalie and the others approached the patrol boat. Doreen peered over the gunwale and, finding it empty, climbed aboard and waved on the others. Natalie and Emily joined her and made their way forward to the bridge, with Emily positioning herself in front of the console. The key was still in the ignition. She turned it to the right, and the gauges came to life.

“That’s good,” she said. “The battery works.”

“Check the fuel gauge,” Natalie responded. “It’s half empty.”

“Not to worry.” Emily pointed to the bow. Four fifty-five gallon drums had been lashed to the deck, with a hand pump protruding from the top of one of them. “We have plenty of refueling capability. Whoever owned this boat had prepared to make a run for it. I don’t think they anticipated finding a pontoon bridge blocking their path.”

“Good news for us.”

“That’s for sure, honey.” Emily placed her finger on the starter button. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

* * *

Josephine stood in the center of the perimeter, watching the Missouri side of the Mississippi River for any activity when she saw something protruding from the sandbar two hundred feet away. She squinted to see it more clearly. Only a small portion stuck up above the surface. Josephine snapped her fingers to get the attention of Tiara’s, who stood on her right. When Tiara turned to her, she said, “Cover me.”

“Why?

Josephine pointed to the object. “Something’s in the sand. I want to see what it is.”

“Forget about it.”

“It might be something we can use.”

Tiara sighed. “Be careful.”

Josephine left the perimeter and crossed the sandbar. She was surprised she had even spotted it considering only an area the size of a baseball was visible, and even that only stuck out an inch or so. The dark color had attracted her attention because it contrasted against the surface. When she reached it, it looked like an old piece of leather. Kneeling, she brushed away the sand covering the object, exposing what lay—

Josephine drew back in horror.

The object was a decayed, mummified hand.

And the index and forefinger twitched.