Rotter Nation (25 page)

Price strolled around the facility, ostensibly checking on the progress of the pack up. It had not taken as long as anticipated because his people had so little. As he walked into each storage unit that had served as private quarters, he noticed his guys had left behind a lot of their belongings in the hopes that they would have better stuff at the new place. Sure, he knew this wouldn’t be the case since the new homes were unfurnished, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. This move had given them incentive, something to work toward. Something he could use to keep them in line. Price knew that their future depended on his being able to refocus their energies from raping and violence to rebuilding, and he felt confident he could pull it off.

He also made his rounds out of a sense of nostalgia. Not for the place itself, but for what it represented. Respect. For the first time in his life, Price was someone other than the local thug or the problem case that the police and courts didn’t know how to handle. People had always feared him. Now that fear was combined with power, and the combination had earned him the trust and respect of his men. These guys followed him. Sure, part of it came from him letting them do what they wanted to the women in camp. Sometimes you have to allow the boys blow off some steam to let them know you understand where they’re coming from. Now that he had their loyalty, he could start making something of himself. Rather than be a small cog in society, he would build that new society. And it wouldn’t be a flawed one where the weak flourished at the expense of the strong. That was why mankind couldn’t stand up to the deader outbreak. No. His society would be built on strength, like the Old West. When everything had blown over—

“Excuse me, sir.

Price turned around to see Carter approaching. “What’s up?”

“We’re all set to go except for the kitchen. Considering that it’s noon, I didn’t know if you wanted us to pack that up and head out now or wait until morning.”

Price contemplated the idea for a moment. They still had enough time to get to the new location by nightfall if everything played out according to plan. If anything went wrong, they ran the risk of being stranded between camps at night, which could be fatal. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Let’s wait until tomorrow. It’ll give the guys a chance to rest and give us plenty of daylight to set up in the new place.”

“You’re the boss.”

You’re damn right I am
, thought Price.
Soon I’ll be the boss of this entire region
.

* * *

When Carter stuck his head into the kitchen the women were completing the morning clean up. “It’s official. We’re leaving for the new compound tomorrow morning. So after dinner tonight, pack up everything you won’t need for breakfast. That’ll make it quicker for you in the morning. Understood?”

“Whatever,” Tracey sighed.

Carter stormed into the kitchen. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so he could look into her face. “What’d you say, bitch?”

Tracey cringed. “I said ‘yes’.”

“That’s better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are sorry. And pathetic.” Carter whipped his hand to one side, tossing her to the cement. “You better adjust your attitude in the new place or you’ll find yourself deader bait.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carter stormed out, leaving Tracey on her knees sobbing. The other women ignored her, grateful it wasn’t them. For Windows, Carter’s comment about making Tracey deader bait reinforced her decision to escape before Price moved, which meant she would have to do it tonight.

Windows stepped into the rear of the unit where the food supplies were kept to get a bottle of water. As she pulled one of the last bottles from the package, something caught her eye. A pair of wire cutters had fallen beside the wooden pallet the food had been stored on. One of the gang members must have dropped it when they were breaking down the remaining stock to load for the move. The cutters were only nine inches long and intended for small wires, yet she should be able to use them to get through the chain link fence surrounding the compound. Making certain no one was paying attention, Windows crouched down and moved the cutters so they were hidden between the slats.

She and Cindy would sneak back to the kitchen later tonight to retrieve the cutters and to steal the fifty-five gallon drum, maneuver it against the wall, and use it to climb up and over. She had done the calculations yesterday, and the barrel would give her enough height to hoist Cindy to the top and pull herself over. All she would need was about an hour to make it to the vehicle Lee had told her about. Considering the entire compound would be moving in the morning, she doubted Price would send anyone after her.

At least, she hoped so.

Not that it mattered. Windows knew the two of them would be murdered if they stayed here. At least on the run they had a fighting chance. She had made up her mind.

They would escape once everyone else had settled down for the night.

BOOK THREE

Natalie lay naked in the sand. Robson knelt over her, wearing only his pants. She enjoyed the way he explored her body. He was slow and gentle, gliding his hands up and down along the outside of her legs, occasionally teasing her by sliding up to her hips, moving over to her inner thighs, and back down. All the while, he never broke eye contact. Their gaze remained locked, which turned her on more than his touch. She reached up, gently clasping his cheeks. He shifted his gaze long enough to kiss the palm of her hand. His blue eyes took her in, cherished her. She saw that they mirrored her own emotions. A twinge of passion flashed between Natalie’s legs.

Clutching Robson by the hair, Natalie pulled him on top of her. She let out a throaty moan when she felt the bulge in his crotch burning against her. His mouth felt so warm and inviting. She kissed him, running the tip of her tongue along his lips. He groaned and ground against her, sliding across her wet lips. Natalie gasped. She wanted him more than anything. Holding his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes. “I love you.”

Robson smiled and opened his mouth to say those precious words back to her.

And screamed.

Not a scream, exactly. More like a howl. Or a piercing wail.

Natalie bolted upright, momentarily disoriented. She wasn’t naked on the beach with Robson. She had been sleeping fully clothed, alone in a hotel bed. The sound wasn’t a cry.

It was a siren.

An air raid siren.

Natalie heard yelling and screaming in the corridor. All of her senses went onto high alert. Ripping off the covers, she jumped out of bed and gathered her gear. She had finished when something banged against the door. It started to open. Natalie grabbed her M-16A2 and swung it around.

Pandelosi stood in the doorway, her emotions under control despite the fear in her eyes. “We have to get moving!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just haul ass!”

Natalie didn’t need to be told twice. She slid on her leather jacket, grabbed her backpack and automatic rifle, and ran out of the room.

Panic reigned in the corridor. Lopez stood at the far end of the corridor, waving on the Angels and directing them out the rear door. Her girls followed orders, even though they had no idea what was going on, which only added to the uncertainty and terror. His voice was barely audible over the siren. Natalie heard him yelling, “Get to the plane! Go! Go! Go!”

She ran up to him. “What’s going on?”

“Our advance team up north called in that swarmers are heading this way.”

“How many?”

“Over a thousand. Best we can tell, everyone infected in the bunker is on their way here.”

“How long before they get here?”

“They’re already here.” Lopez grabbed Natalie’s shoulder and shoved her toward the door. “Now move!”

Outside, Natalie witnessed complete chaos. The C-130 stood between the two hangers, its propellers spinning and its loading ramp down. Sarge and Duncan had positioned themselves on either side of the aircraft’s rear opening, their weapons ready, while Kim stood at the top of the ramp urging the others forward. Everyone else raced for the aircraft as if their life depended on it.

Which it did.

Sarge and Duncan raised their M-16A2s and began firing at the hotel. Natalie looked over her shoulder as she ran. A score of swarmers crossed the parking lot and raced along the right side of the building. Lopez remained by the rear door, yelling to someone inside the building. When he heard the gunfire, he spun around in time to see the first swarmer rush around the corner. It wore a black suit and white shirt stained red with blood from a vicious neck wound. It saw Lopez and charged. With one motion, Lopez stepped out of the doorway, raised his M-16A2, and put a single shot through the swarmer’s forehead.

Harrington burst through the doorway, with Katie right behind him. Lopez joined them, and the three made a mad dash for the plane.

They didn’t stand a chance.

The swarmers surged around the corner of the building and bore down on the three. Lopez and Harrington stopped and fired into them, hoping to buy Katie some time. They took down a few of the living dead before being tackled. Four brought down Harrington. The private screamed so loud Natalie could hear it over the siren and the roar of the C-130’s engines. He tried to crawl away, shredding the skin off of his fingers on the concrete. The swarmers ripped into him, tearing open his abdomen and gorging on his insides until Harrington’s screams died off.

Lopez crouched when the closest swarmer reached him. It tripped over him and fell face first onto the tarmac, shattering its front teeth. Lopez swung his legs around, kicking down the next closest, which toppled to the side. Jumping to his feet, the corporal charged a swarmer ten feet away, driving his shoulder into its abdomen and pushing it back against two others. Lopez tried to run, but two swarmers grabbed him from behind. He attempted to throw them off . Being off balance because of the tackle, they forced him to his knees. The corporal still wouldn’t give up. He shoved the first swarmer away, and then wrapped his arms around the second one’s legs and pushed forward, knocking it over his shoulders onto the tarmac behind him. By then, the others he had knocked down had gotten back to their feet and lunged. Six sets of dead hands pinned Lopez to the ground and tore him apart.

The last two swarmers honed in on Katie. Lugging her backpack over one shoulder slowed her down. Glancing behind her, she saw a female swarmer in blue nurse scrubs closing in. Katie slipped off the backpack and dropped it on the tarmac in front of the swarmer. It bounded over the backpack and leapt at Katie, landing on her shoulders and knocking her to the cement. Katie cried out and struggled to break free as the second swarmer in a tattered and blood-stained
thawb
dived onto her. Each took a bite out of her neck, one tearing meat off of her shoulder, the other rupturing her larynx. Thankfully, the end came quickly.

“Lady, hurry the fuck up!”

Natalie turned around. The C-130 had begun to taxi toward the runway, the ramp now raised a foot off the ground. Sarge stood on one side, pumping his fist up and down to hurry her up. Duncan stood opposite him, helping on board the others as they reached the aircraft. Pandelosi jumped onto the ramp and lost her balance. Duncan steadied her, and then reached to help Emily. Her foot slipped on the metal ramp and she landed with a thud, her legs dangling over the side. Duncan grasped her hand, preventing her from falling off. Pandelosi grabbed Emily’s belt and pulled, dragging her up the ramp until Kim came down to help her inside.

Natalie was now the only one still on the tarmac.

She increased her speed, knowing that with swarmers bearing down on them, the others couldn’t risk stopping the aircraft. As she closed the distance with the C-130, she felt her legs getting weak and her breathing becoming labored. Pandelosi stood on the ramp and screamed something to the pilot. The C-130 decreased speed. Not by much, but enough to let Natalie catch up. Summoning all of her strength, she sprinted forward. When she reached the end of the ramp, Sarge and Duncan each grabbed an arm, lifted her on board, and shoved her toward the cabin.

Pandelosi rushed forward. “Raise the ramp and get us out of here!”

Everett pushed forward the thrust levers. The C-130 shot ahead, knocking everyone off balance, and raced along the tarmac.

Natalie caught her breath, slipped off her backpack, dropped it and her M-16A2 to the deck, and made her way to the cockpit. Pandelosi sat in the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in. Everett focused on the tarmac ahead of him, swerving around parked aircraft. Checking the airspeed indicator, she saw that the C-130 had obtained a speed of sixty-three miles per hour.

“Thanks… for slowing down… for me,” Natalie rasped.

“No problem. I just hope it doesn’t let them catch us.”

“There are… only a few swarmers… behind us.”

“They aren’t the problem.” Everett pointed to his right. “I’m concerned about them.”

Natalie followed his finger and uttered the only word that came to mind. “Fuck.”

A thousand swarmers flowed around the main terminal and spread out across the surrounding tarmac like a tidal wave of living dead. They ran between the parked planes, crouching under the fuselages of the larger aircraft or racing around the smaller ones. They all converged on the only moving object in the airport.

Their aircraft.

Everett pushed the thrust levers to their limit. The four turboprop engines roared as each one strained to put out maximum horsepower. The C-130 picked up speed, approaching eighty miles per hour when it reached the runway. Natalie expected Everett to slow as he made the turn. Instead, he whipped the aircraft onto the runway. The tires screeched and the fuselage listed to one side, throwing Natalie against the bulkhead. The maneuver prevented them from losing significant speed. The C-130 barreled down the runway.

The swarmers had closed to within two hundred feet.

Everett gestured to the control yoke in front of Pandelosi. “Pull it toward you.”

The lieutenant raised her arms beside her and physically backed into the seat. “I don’t know how to fly.”

Everett grabbed her left hand and forced it onto the yoke. “Just pull the fucking thing back for all it’s worth!”

Pandelosi grabbed the yoke and yanked it toward her until she practically stood in the seat. Everett pulled back on his with his left hand while shoving the thrust levers forward with his right. His knuckles clutched the levers until they turned white, as if the effort would push a few extra miles per hour out of the C-130. The swarmers were less than one hundred feet away. Natalie swore she could hear them snarling even over the roar of the engines.

She felt a slight lurch when the C-130 lifted off the runway. She closed her eyes to thank God. Her relief was short lived. Something thudded against the fuselage, and she felt the aircraft shudder.

Everett muttered, “Fuck.”

She opened her eyes to find the starboard windows splattered with blood and gore. The first wave of swarmers had reached the C-130, only to be shredded by the propellers. A length of intestine dangled from the cowling of the inner engine. Black smoke flowed from the outer engine.

“Let go of the yoke!” Everett ordered.

Pandelosi sat back in her seat and moved her arms away. “Are we going to make it?”

Everett ignored her. He kept his yoke pulled back and to the left, trying to compensate for the drag of the right wing. “Come on, baby. Don’t let me down.”

They were not gaining altitude.

Everett let go of the thrust levers long enough to hit the switch to raise the landing gear and the hydraulics whirred. There was a thump as the port gear retracted into its bay. The whirring continued on the right, only now it sounded strained.

“The starboard gear is stuck!” Everett shouted to her. “What’s wrong with it?”

Natalie peered out the side window. A swarmer was lodged between the twin tires, its torso leaning to the right and hooked on the bay’s outer rim, preventing the gear from retracting. It clawed at the metal, trying to free itself.

“We have a rotter stuck in the landing gear.”

“God fucking damn it!”

Everett shut down the outer starboard engine and feathered the propeller, preventing it from catching on fire. When he did, the plane veered left and lost altitude. Natalie gasped. Everett quickly corrected and leveled out. He reached out and flipped the starboard landing gear switch.

“How’s our stowaway?”

Natalie glanced out the window. When the gear descended, the swarmer slipped from between the tires and plummeted behind them. “He’s gone.”

Everett retracted the gear and then concentrated his energy on flying. The C-130 still could not gain altitude. He pulled back on the control yoke. “Come on, baby. You can do this.”

Natalie closed her eyes and braced herself for death.

“Come on!” Everett slammed his hand against the yoke. “Give me some height, you stupid whore!”

The C-130 steadily gained altitude. After a few minutes, Everett physically relaxed. He brought the aircraft into a slow U-turn to starboard and leveled off at an altitude of three thousand feet. Omaha passed by on their right.

Natalie waited until everything seemed under control then asked, “I assume we’re going to make it?”

“If you’re referring to staying airborne, yeah, we’re going to make it. If you mean are we going to make it to San Francisco, that’s another story.”

“Why?”

“We have nothing to navigate by other than visuals, and when the sun goes down in half an hour we won’t even have that.” Everett pointed to a major highway running southwest from the city. “That’s Interstate 80. It goes right into San Francisco. As long as I don’t lose that, we should be there by morning.”

“And if we do lose it?” Natalie asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Everett tried to sound reassuring. “Then when she runs out of fuel, we’ll put her down and hope for the best.”