Rotter Nation (24 page)

The Omaha skyline poked though the morning mist, the glass of its many office buildings reflecting the sun. Natalie found it peaceful, yet surreal. Before the outbreak, she had always enjoyed cities early in the morning when only a handful of people milled about. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, every major city they passed swarmed with rotters. That was why Omaha was unusual. Nothing moved, either living or living dead. It was almost as if the death of mankind had bypassed the Midwest. A part of Natalie wanted to pull onto the nearest bank and spend the rest of her life here. In reality, she knew unimaginable horrors probably waited deep in the city.

Emily decreased the patrol boat’s speed to ten knots. Natalie glanced over at her. “Why are you slowing down?”

“We reached the end of the line.”

Ahead of them, a trestle-style bridge spanned the Missouri River. It looked like the dozens of bridges they had passed underneath since leaving New Orleans, with one major difference: this one was clear of debris. Barricades had been erected on both approaches, preventing any vehicles from crossing. On the western bank, a chain link fence topped with barbed wire ran for two hundred feet along the river on either side of the bridge before turning at a ninety-degree angle toward the city. Plywood boards had been attached to the structure to form signs. The one on the western approach said BELLEVUE BRIDGE/MISSION AVE. The one on the eastern approach read THIS WAY TO SAFETY accompanied by an arrow pointing to a rope ladder that dangled from the central span along the central support column.

“What do you think?” Emily asked. “Should we stop?”

Natalie didn’t know what to do. Nothing indicated that this was a check-in point for the government-in-exile. She would hate to walk into a trap at this late stage. Then again, if this proved legitimate and they passed it by, they could wind up missing their opportunity to find a safe refuge. She opted to play it safe.

“Stephanie, wake up the rest of the Angels,” Natalie said. “We’re going to check this out.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the police boat pulled up alongside the bridge’s central support. Emily remained at the controls, ready to escape the area if necessary. Amy, Sarah, and Doreen joined Natalie while the other Angels stayed on board covering the two banks and the approaches to the bridge.

While Doreen provided cover, Amy and Sarah held the rope ladder for Natalie. She climbed quickly, expecting at any moment for a bullet to slam into her. Nothing happened. When she reached the central span, she swung her legs over the guard rail, unslung her M-16A2, and scanned the area. No sign of danger. Hell, no sign of anything. Leaning over the guardrail, she waved for the others to climb up, and crouched into a firing position by the ladder. After the other three girls joined her, they formed a semi-circle. Natalie directed Doreen and Amy to the eastern side of the bridge, and she and Sarah made their way in the opposite direction toward the barricade at the western approach.

They were fifty feet from the barricade when a male voice called out. “Stop right there. Slowly place your weapons on the ground and raise your hands above your head.”

Natalie veered to the left and slid up beside a steel girder, then crouched and aimed toward the barricade. Sarah jumped over the pedestrian walkway and stooped behind the rail. On the opposite side of the bridge, Doreen and Amy dropped prone and aimed their M-16A2s at the barricade.

“I said, place your weapons on the ground and raise your hands above your head. I promise, no harm will come to you.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Natalie yelled.

“Ma’am, this is your last chance. Drop your weapons or we will be forced to open fire.”

“Okay. We’re putting them down.” Natalie stood and raised the M-16A2 over her head. She took three steps from the girder, crouched down, and placed the automatic rifle on the span in front of her. Dropping to her knees, she lifted her hands above her head. The other Angels stared at her incredulous, but went along. 

Once the women had surrendered, two soldiers in camouflaged uniforms emerged from behind the barricade. The larger of the two, a black man, stayed partially covered and trained his weapon on the women. The other approached, his M-16A2 raised and ready to fire. As he neared, Natalie noticed the name LOPEZ stitched to his breastplate.

“Please unzip your jackets, slowly and with one hand. Do not make any sudden movements or reach under your jackets. Is that clear?”

The Angels obeyed. Lopez moved closer. He paused a few feet from Natalie. “I’m going to frisk each of you for weapons. Do not resist or make any sudden movements. Understood?”

Each of them nodded, and Lopez moved in. His search was thorough but unobtrusive, and he didn’t inappropriately touch any of them. When finished, Lopez stood back, his weapon now pointed toward the ground. “Sorry, about that. You can stand up.”

“Thanks.” Natalie got off her knees. “What about our weapons?”

“You can keep them for now. Remove the magazines and make certain a round isn’t chambered. Then have the rest of your party in the boat come on up, with their weapons unloaded.”

Fifteen minutes later, all the Angels stood on the bridge and had been searched. While Lopez seemed relaxed throughout the procedure, Natalie noticed his friend never took his weapon off of them.

When they finished, Lopez asked, “I’m curious. Why did you back down so easily?”

“I knew I wasn’t in danger when you called me ‘ma’am’.”

Lopez looked confused. “Why?”

“I figured you were military or law enforcement. Most others we run into who are a danger call me ‘bitch’ or ‘whore’.”

Lopez laughed. Even the black soldier smiled and pointed his weapon away from them.

“What brings you ladies to Omaha?” Lopez asked.

Natalie pointed to the briefcase Ari held. “We have the Revenant Vaccine that Dr. Compton created.”

“Dr. Compton?”

“That’s the scientist on the East Coast,” said the black soldier. “He’s the one who supposedly had developed a cure for the zombie outbreak.”

“He succeeded. With this, none of us will ever have to worry about being turned if we’re bitten.”

“Are you serious?” Lopez asked. “It really works?”

Natalie nodded. “We’re here to give it to the President.”

Lopez snorted. “In that case, ma’am, you’re screwed.”

Lopez didn’t elaborate. He and the other soldier, who had introduced himself as Private Carver Duncan, escorted the Angels back to Offutt Air Force Base to meet the commanding officer. They approached the facility after walking south along the river and turning west, which meant that the group had to traverse the entire length of the runway.

Two things struck Natalie. First, the diversity of aircraft lined up on either side of the runway and scattered around the tarmac: Air Force One; Air Force Two; Marine One; several dozen military aircraft, a score of private jets; an Airbus 310 with the palm tree and crossed swords logo of Saudia on the tail. These planes had been left unattended for months. Many had flattened tires, a few had engine cowlings or access doors left open, having been scavenged for parts. All of the aircraft, even Air Force One, had months of soot and grime covering their wings and fuselage. It reminded her of an outdoor air museum where no one maintained the exhibits.

Second, she noticed the lack of activity around the air base. Other than themselves, Natalie saw no one else. With so many aircraft crowded onto the field, she figured there would at least be maintenance personnel servicing them. She reasoned that the lack of crews explained the poor condition of the aircraft. Only when they reached the far end of the runway did she see a lone figure in a leather jacket. He walked around a C-130 military transport that stood separate from the other aircraft and sat between two hangers set fifteen hundred feet from the runway.

Lopez headed for the C-130 and led the group toward a two-story building on the opposite side of the twin hangers. A sign on the building read HOTEL AIR FORCE. The corporal entered and made his way to the dining room.

“Hey, Lieutenant. We got company.”

A young woman in green Air Force cammies emerged from the kitchen. Natalie guessed her to be no more than thirty. She had the petite body of someone in their late twenties, with a haggard appearance that made her look years older. Her red hair, which hung down to her shoulders and had not been trimmed in months, contained streaks of white. Furrows ran across her forehead, and black circles highlighted her glazed eyes. She showed no expression upon leaving the kitchen until she saw the assault rifles slung over the Angels’ shoulders. Then she turned on Lopez.

“Why the fuck are they still armed?”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant,” Lopez defended himself. “They’re friendly.”

“Not that it matters anymore.” The woman’s defiance evaporated with an exasperated shrug. She approached Natalie, extending her hand. “I’m Lieutenant Jane Pandelosi, United States Air Force. I’m in command of what’s left here.”

“Natalie Bazargan.” She gave the hand a single pump. “We have the vaccine Dr. Compton prepared against the Zombie Virus. We’re here to pass it to the President.”

The lieutenant sighed. “You wasted your time, lady.”

“Why’s that?”

“Revenants overran the President’s bunker thirty hours ago.”

* * *

After dropping that bombshell, Pandelosi refused to explain until they had breakfast. Although Natalie had been stunned by the lieutenant’s indifference, she withheld asking any questions until the appropriate moment. The Angels followed the lieutenant through the chow line, grabbing trays and getting themselves a hot meal.

Besides Pandelosi, Lopez, and Duncan, three others joined them for breakfast—Privates Curtis Harrington and Michael Kim, and Sergeant Ray “Sarge” Batchelder. Natalie waited until everyone had started eating before broaching the topic.

“Is this all your people?”

“For the most part,” Pandelosi replied. “I have three people north of the base in case anyone staggers south from the bunker.”

“And The Butcher,” added Harrington.

“Knock that shit off, soldier,” ordered Pandelosi. “Mouth off like that again and you’ll do guard duty up north.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lopez leaned closer to Natalie. “They’re referring to Captain Everett, the pilot of the C-130. You saw him on the way in earlier.”

“Isn’t he joining us?” asked Ari.

Pandelosi shook her head. “He avoids us because most of my people can’t stand him.”

“Because he’s a butcher,” said Harrington under his breath.

Pandelosi cast the private a withering stare, and then went on to explain. “When the outbreak first occurred, Captain Everett flew an AC-130 Specter to run strafing missions against revenants in Illinois. They’re armed with a 105mm Howitzer, a 40mm Bofors gun, and a .30 caliber chain gun. On his last mission outside of Chicago, to stop a swarm of revenants from escaping the city, the fire control team aboard opened up on a bridge that contained several hundred civilians trying to flee the horde. It only slowed down the dead and killed off most of the survivors. Everett jockeyed the ship; the fire control team did the killing. That didn’t matter, though. The media placed the blame for the massacre on his shoulder and gave him the nickname The Butcher. He has never lived it down, nor has he forgiven himself. That’s why he never eats with us. It’s also why he refused to take command of this base when the President downsized it.”

“It’s not a very large command,” said Emily. “No offense.”

“Not now. After the outbreak, the military expanded our ranks to five hundred people under a major general. We’re the closest air base to the bunker where the government-in-exile was established. Those first few weeks, everyone in Washington who had survived the outbreak made their way here, mostly by plane. The Vice President and some others had been ordered to Colorado Springs to set up a shadow government in case something happened here. We lost contact with them after five weeks. No one knows what happened.”

“And nobody around here gave a shit,” added Sarge.

“That’s harsh,” said Natalie.

“It’s true.” Pandelosi vented a lot of frustration in that response. “We had a lot of good men and women here, people with their own loved ones they were concerned about, who stayed put to keep this air base open so we could ensure continuity of government. Our elected officials, however, were more concerned with saving their own asses. Over a thousand people landed at this airport, and half of them weren’t even government officials. I watched staffers, lobbyists, Hollywood celebrities, CEOs, media personalities, and a whole host of non-essential personnel fly into here before heading north. There are even twenty-five members of the Saudi royal family up there.

“About a month after the outbreak, when everybody was who going to make it out alive had already arrived, the President downsized Offutt to just under one hundred people. That’s when I took command. The rest were sent east to battle the revenants along the Mississippi. There wasn’t much for us to do after that. We got a hundred or so survivors coming through here, fed them, and sent them on their way.”

“Why?” asked Natalie.

“Officially they’re ‘a drain on resources’.” Pandelosi grimaced at the words.

The Angels did not fully understand.

“Did you notice Omaha is deserted?” Sarge asked. “That’s because, under orders of the President, the governor declared martial law and evacuated everyone from the city. The President wanted to avoid any local infestations that could threaten the bunker. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of innocent people died because they were forced out of their homes and sent south. Not that it did any good in the long run.”

“What happened?”

“In the bunker?” Pandelosi shrugged. “Who knows? The rules on containment security were supposed to be very strict. Everyone who landed here was supposed to undergo a complete physical before being allowed to proceed up north, and if you had a wound of any kind, then you had to undergo a forty-eight-hour quarantine.”

“I assume those rules weren’t adhered to?” Emily asked.

“Staffers, military personnel, and family members obeyed them. The principals and Congressmen refused to submit to such an indignity, and the President waived the rules for them, and for most of the other special guests.”

“Is that how the infection reached the bunker?” This time Natalie asked the question.

“We don’t know.” Pandelosi stared down at the table and swallowed hard. When she didn’t speak after several seconds, Sarge picked up the conversation.

“The lieutenant had a good friend in the bunker’s radio room who she used to chat with every day. They exchanged gossip on what was going on inside and out here in the real world. Two days ago, he contacted us to say an outbreak had taken place inside the bunker, and that they were trying to contain it. Seven hours later, he called back to say they had been overrun, that almost everyone had been infected, and that he and the few survivors left would try and make their way to Offutt. That was the last anyone heard from them.”

“I’m sorry,” said Natalie. “Did your friend make it?”

“No.” Pandelosi raised her head. Tears filled her eyes. “And he was my fiancé.”

An awkward silence fell over the group.

“I ordered everyone here to get out while they could,” Pandelosi resumed after composing herself. “We agreed to stay behind for a few days in case anyone made it out of the bunker alive and managed to get this far south. We’re flying out first thing tomorrow morning, which is why it’s good you showed up when you did. You’re welcome to go with us, if you want.”

“Is there anyone left from the government?” Ari asked.

“That depends on who you talk to,” answered Kim.

“What do you mean?” Ari asked.

“Go ahead,” Pandelosi said to Kim. “You’re the political science major.”

Kim smiled. “According to the Constitution, the highest ranking surviving official still alive who can take over the government now that the President is dead is the Secretary of Defense. But he’s in Canada. He was flying back from a summit in Europe and made it as far as Montreal before the United States banned all air travel. Now there’s a huge debate going on within the remnants of the government over whether or not his being in a foreign country makes him ineligible to take over the Presidency.”

“Do you believe it?” Harrington snorted. “America is dead and these assholes are still fighting over power.”

“What are the other options?” Natalie asked.

“We could go to Wyoming,” joked Duncan.

“Too cold for me,” Lopez remarked.

“What’s in Wyoming?” asked Emily.

Pandelosi rolled her eyes. “This past spring, the governor of Wyoming declared himself the most capable official to deal with the revenant threat. The winter was so cold and the snow so deep that it stopped the spread of the revenants for several months, giving the governor time to regroup and organize his defenses. By the time the thaw hit, he had cleared out most of the state of the living dead and had set up fortified enclaves throughout the region. He doesn’t have the legal authority to be President, yet he has the street creds. That’s not where we’re heading. We’re flying to San Francisco. The Secretary of Education has established a bridgehead that has withstood the revenants for eight months. From what we’ve heard, a lot of survivors have been making their way there. Rumor has it he’s getting ready to launch a counteroffensive. That’s the reason we’re going, to be part of that. If you have the vaccine, you guys will be welcomed as heroes.”

A flurry of excitement passed among the Angels. Natalie quieted them down, and then asked Pandelosi, “You don’t mind taking us along?”

“Not at all. We have plenty of room on the C-130. We already have clearance to land at Alameda Airport. Lopez, call Alameda and let them know we’ll be bringing eleven extra people with us. Then set these women up in the empty rooms. Make sure they have bed linen and towels for the showers.”

“Showers?” Stephanie asked.

“
Hot
showers.” The lieutenant grinned for the first time.

Natalie smiled as the Angels talked excitedly amongst themselves like teenagers discussing the prom. “I don’t know how to thank you for this,” she said to the lieutenant.

“Be on time tomorrow,” Pandelosi responded. “Breakfast is at 0800. We take off at 0900.”