Rotter Nation (32 page)

“You gotta be kidding me,” said Duncan. “How the hell are we going to get across that?”

“We walk,” snapped Pandelosi. “Do you think they would have set up an emergency airstrip on the Sausalito side of the Bay if they hadn’t secured the bridge first?”

“I guess,” replied Duncan somewhat contrite.

“This is going to be a cakewalk compared to what’s ahead of us.” Pandelosi waved them forward. “Move out, people.”

Approaching the bridge, Natalie surveyed it for potential danger. She noticed a set of Jersey barriers arranged across the entranceway in the same way as at the airstrip and open in the center to allow traffic through. On the other side of the barricade, vehicles were neatly lined up along the two outer lanes on either side of the bridge as though someone had parked them there, leaving the four center lanes unobstructed. The two pedestrian walkways on either side of the bridge were also clear. No rotters were visible.

When they reached the barricade, Pandelosi stopped and faced them. “Split into four groups as we cross.”

“I thought you said this was going to be a cakewalk,” chided Duncan.

“No sense being bunched up and an easy target in case we run into something. Since you like to second guess me so much, you can join me down the center of the span. Kim, you take the left walkway. Batchelder has the one on the right. You ladies can team up with us as you see fit. Keep ten feet between you. Let’s roll.”

The military personnel spread out. Pandelosi walked down the left side of the four center lanes and Duncan took the right. Kim and Batchelder swung over the guardrails and moved along the east and west exterior walkways, respectively. Amy and Sarah followed Kim. Sandy and Doreen fell in behind Batchelder. The rest of the Angels stayed in the center, with Josephine and Emily trailing Duncan and Natalie, Stephanie, and Ari following Pandelosi.

As they approached the north tower, Pandelosi waved for Natalie to join her. When Natalie caught up, the lieutenant pointed to the cars lining the outer guard rails. “What do you make of the fact that the cars look like they had been parked here rather than abandoned, and that there’s no blood or bodies around?”

“I’m taking it as a good sign.”

“How so?” asked Pandelosi.

“Every other city we’ve encountered completely fell apart during the outbreak. So far we haven’t seen any rotter activity here. Secretary Fogel knows what he’s doing. Maybe we finally found a place that’s really safe.”

“I hope you’re right.” The lieutenant glanced over her shoulder and saw most of her unit and the Angels gazing up at the North Tower that stood five hundred feet above them. “Pay attention, people. You can sightsee on your own time.”

Duncan replied with, “Hooyah.”

When they reached the middle of the center span, a knot of traffic blocked the bridge a thousand feet ahead of them. Pandelosi raised her hand for the others to halt, and checked her flanks to make certain Kim and Batchelder saw. When everyone had come to a stop, she pointed to Duncan and Natalie. “You two are with me.”

Duncan stayed to the rear, scanning the span for danger. As the women approached, they saw a tour bus on its side at an angle and blocking the right four lanes, its roof facing their direction. There were no indications of a struggle, no blood smears or broken windows. Abrasions in the concrete near the rear end of the bus and accompanying dents in the roof indicated the bus had originally blocked six lanes and had been moved. The parked vehicles on either side of the bridge ended one hundred feet before the accident, leaving a path that veered to the left and disappeared around the bus. Raising their weapons, the two women made their way around the overturned vehicle.

Traffic crowded the southern span and stretched back as far as Natalie could see. Hundreds of cars, SUVs, a few buses, and even a propane truck sat stalled along the southern span. Two lanes on the eastern side of the bridge were clear. Natalie assumed that the cars dispersed along the northern span had been removed from the southern portion to make a path. A single rotter stood fifty feet away staring at the windshield of a taxi. Its back was to them, and it did not appear to be aware of their presence. Pandelosi raised her M-16A2, took aim, and fired off a single round. Its head jerked and its body stiffened for a second before falling to the cement. Pandelosi gave Natalie a thumbs-up, and they rejoined the others.

“We heard a gunshot,” said Duncan. “What’s up?”

“Just a stray revenant.” The lieutenant spoke so all four groups could hear. “We’re halfway home. There’s a lot of traffic on the other side of the bus, but for the most part it looks clear. Stay alert. Let’s move out.”

The four groups set out. They had gone about one hundred yards when Duncan called out, “Revenant.”

A rotter in the remnants of a woman’s business suit staggered between two lanes of parked vehicles, its gait swaying and uncertain because it still wore a single high heel, its head twisting from side to side as if searching for something. Duncan raced forward, closed to within ten feet, and took it down with a single shot to the forehead. Raising his right arm, he waved the others forward.

After another several yards, Natalie spotted a rotter moving down the unobstructed lane toward them, this one shirtless from the waist up, its abdomen exposed and decayed flesh dangling off its ribcage. At that moment, off to the right, she heard Duncan call out, “Revenant.” He didn’t refer to the shirtless rotter, but to a second one in a bicyclist’s outfit that stood up from between two stalled cars and lumbered toward him. Duncan took it down with a single shot. Pandelosi raised her M-16A2 and put a bullet through the head of the shirtless rotter.

Natalie stepped up to her. “Maybe we shouldn’t be firing on them. The noise is attracting them.”

“What do you suggest?”

“My girls have hunting knives. We can take them out quietly.”

Pandelosi nodded and called out to Duncan. “Let the women lead.”

Natalie and Stephanie moved ahead, leaving Ari to mind the backpack containing the briefcase. Emily and Josephine took the lead on the left. Each of them slung their weapons and removed their hunting knives. After another few yards a rotter in a chauffeur’s uniform appeared on the right from behind a tour bus and stumbled toward Josephine. Josephine moved quickly. Slamming her arm against its chest, she drove it back against the front of the bus and plunged the blade into its right eye, twisting once to scramble its brains. The rotter went limp. It dropped to the ground, sliding off of Josephine’s knife. She circled around the bus to the right. Emily moved along the left.

“Hey!”

The yell came from the left. Kim and Sarah were waving. When they had Natalie’s attention, they pointed toward the south span.

Pandelosi walked up to her. “What’s going…. Jesus Christ on a fucking bicycle.”

A thousand feet ahead of them, hundreds of rotters filled the entire southern span of the bridge, all heading in their direction.

“What should we do?” asked Duncan.

“Fall back,” answered Pandelosi.

“To where?” Natalie protested. “Those things will just follow us. The farther we retreat, the harder it’ll be to reach the Beachhead later.”

“What do you suggest?”

Natalie pointed to the southern end of the bridge. “We go forward.”

“We can’t fight them all,” said Duncan.

“We don’t have to. We can bait-and-switch them.”

* * *

“What are they doing?” asked Amy.

“We should join them.” Sarah headed for the guardrail to join Natalie and Pandelosi.

Kim stopped her. “Don’t expose yourself yet. Wait and see what they plan on doing.”

Amy looked toward San Francisco. “I don’t see any rotters on the walkway. Why don’t we make a break for it?”

“The left two lanes are wide open. The revenants will spot us and swarm the walkway, and if they get across that guardrail we’re trapped.”

Amy sighed. She felt trapped already.

* * *

On the western pedestrian walkway, Batchelder and the others didn’t see the approaching horde of rotters or the central group stop to confer. They continued ahead, and soon were several hundred feet ahead of the others.

* * *

Josephine’s view of the approaching rotters was obstructed by the tour bus. Emily noticed them and paused to gape. Being distracted, she didn’t see the rotter in a 49ers sweat suit inside the tour bus. It followed her along the center aisle, tracking her from the shaded windows. When it reached the open rear door, it turned onto the stairs, lost its footing, and fell off. Emily heard it moan an instant before it crashed into her. The two slammed into the adjacent Toyota and slid to the cement. Emily cried out as she felt the femur in her left leg break. The rotter clawed and bit at her right leg, unable to penetrate the leather. She took her hunting knife and plunged it into the back of the rotter’s skull, twisting the blade. It went limp and collapsed across her legs, sending bolts of pain through her body.

Natalie and Pandelosi rushed over. Duncan, Ari, and Stephanie raced ahead of them and took up firing positions.

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked.

“No. My leg is broken.”

“We’ll carry you.” Natalie helped her up.

Emily gasped and fell back against the Toyota, breathing heavy. “I’m not going anywhere today, honey.”

“We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to.” Emily held up her hand to cut off further discussion. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. Get me somewhere safe. I’ll distract the rotters and give the rest of you a chance to escape. When you come back for Everett, pick me up on the way.”

Natalie hesitated.

“It’s the only way. I can’t move, and if you guys try to carry me it’ll get us all killed.”

“She’s right,” said Pandelosi.

“Okay. Where around here is safe?”

“Right there.” Emily pointed to a propane truck two lanes over and three vehicles down. “Every rotter on this bridge will see me, and none of them can get to me.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Natalie.

Emily nodded.

Natalie and Pandelosi threw one of Emily’s arms around each shoulder and escorted her to the tanker, the latter wincing with every step. The women helped her onto the ladder and waited until she had a good handhold. The horde was three hundred feet away.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Natalie asked.

“It’ll be better than the alternative, honey,” Emily said. “Now get out of here so you can send back help soon. It’s going to get cold up here when night hits.”

Natalie hesitated, wanting to say something profound. Instead, Pandelosi grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back toward the bus, yelling for the others to follow.

When they gathered behind the tour bus, Duncan asked, “Are we falling back?”

“No. We’re going to cut over to the walkway and follow Batchelder’s team. Use the bus as cover so those things don’t see us.”

“Wait,” said Ari. “What about Emily?”

“She broke her leg,” explained Natalie. “She’s going to draw the rotters’ attention while we sneak away. We’ll come back for her later.”

“Enough chatter. Move out.” Pandelosi pushed each of her team toward the western walkway. Once the others moved out, she caught Kim’s attention and pointed to the southern edge of the bridge. When he nodded his understanding, the lieutenant set off after the others.

* * *

“Is she nuts?” asked Amy.

“The lieutenant knows what she’s doing.” Kim did not sound convinced.

“They’re heading to the other side where there’s more shelter, ” argued Amy. “If we go this way, half the rotters on this bridge will swarm us.”

Kim sighed. “I can’t disobey an order.”

“We can.” Amy patted Sarah on the shoulder. The two ran back the way they had just come.

“Shit!” Kim hesitated for a minute, and then followed Amy and Sarah.

* * *

Climbing to the top of the tanker was excruciatingly painful and slow. Emily would clasp a rung with both hands before hopping up with her good leg. With each rung, her dangling bad leg would throb from the concussion of the hop or from banging against the ladder. The last time she almost passed out from the pain. Emily paused three rungs from the top to catch her breath and let the throbbing die down.

“Hey! How about a southern hot meal?”

The horde moved quicker, especially those in the unobstructed lanes. Emily heard their collective moaning despite the constant wind from the Bay whipping across the bridge. They were less one hundred feet away. Preparing herself for the inevitable, she hoisted herself up the last three rungs, grimacing against the pain and grinding her teeth to counter the agony in her leg. Once on top of the tanker, she placed her weapon on the walkway and unslung her bag of ammunition. Unbuckling her belt, she pulled it through the loops, threaded it under the metal railing that ran along the walkway, and secured the rest of the belt around her good leg so she wouldn’t fall off if she passed out. Dragging the bag of ammunition in front of her, she opened it. She had seven magazines left.

The horde had reached the propane tanker and swarmed seven deep around its rear, while others gathered along the sides. Hundreds of dead hands reached up to her, scraping fingers and palms against the metal tank. The cross winds from across the Bay helped to dissipate the nauseating stench of decay and the swarm of flies and wasps feeding off the carcasses. It did nothing to muffle the incessant moaning. More rotters approached from farther along the span.

Emily picked up her M-16A2 and took aim on one of the rotter’s beneath her, a female in a short leather skirt.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

“Rotters,” Sandy whispered, rushing up beside Batchelder. “Hundreds of them.”

He turned and saw the horde making its way north along the bridge. He crouched so he would be hidden by the vehicles. Sandy and Doreen did the same, the latter crawling on her hands and knees to catch up.

“What do we do now?” Doreen asked in a hushed voice.

Batchelder didn’t know. Common sense told him to proceed ahead while they still had a chance; however, his training told him not to leave the lieutenant and the others behind. But where were the others? They had to have seen hundreds of revenants heading their way. The Angels expected him to offer guidance. Damn it, basic training never prepared him for this.

“We’re safe for the moment, so we wait here and hope the others catch up.”

* * *

Duncan reached the guardrail first. He jumped over it and assumed a firing position, waiting for the others to join him. Pandelosi was the last one off the span.

“Okay,” said the lieutenant, “stay low and head for shore. Don’t stop for anything. Duncan, you lead. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“What about them?” he asked, pointing south.

Pandelosi saw Batchelder’s team four hundred feet ahead of them. He waved to her. She held her hand over her head, pointed to the city, and mouthed the word, “Go.”

She turned her attention back to her own team. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Move out.”

* * *

Batchelder felt relief when he saw Pandelosi and the others jump onto the walkway. He especially appreciated the order to move out and get the hell off of this death trap.

“Follow me, and leave ten feet between us,” he said to Sandy and Doreen. “Stay low so you don’t attract attention.”

* * *

Backtracking to where the bus accident blocked the bridge, Amy and Sarah jumped the guardrail and crossed over to the western side.

“Wait up.”

They stopped. Kim was following them.

Amy smiled. “I thought for a minute there you were going to head off on your own.”

“Screw it. This is safer. The lieutenant can court martial me if we make it through this.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it,” said Amy. She hopped the guardrail onto the pedestrian walkway. “We’ve seen worse.”

“Really?”

Sarah joined her friend. “Yeah.”

“Wow.” Kim vaulted the guardrail and followed the two women.

A few seconds later, he heard gunfire. Off to his left, one of the leather-clad women sat on top of a propane tanker truck firing into a swarm of revenants massing around the vehicle. He admired her courage, and thanked God it wasn’t him stuck up there.

The three raced toward the southern bank.

* * *

With so many rotters surrounding the tanker, Emily could not possibly miss. Still, she lined up each shot, the mental exercise taking her mind off the throbbing in her leg. So far she had fired ten rounds and achieved ten head shots. Pulling out the empty magazine, she dropped it in the bag and removed a full one. That left her with six remaining. At this rate, she would expend the rest of her ammunition in half an hour, which should be more than enough time for the others to escape. Then she would wait for them to rescue her.

Emily did not notice that several of the rotters at the back of the truck kept bumping their arms against the distribution valve on the back of the propane tank, a metal fixture that had been corroded by nine months of exposure to the wind and salt air. The repeated jostling broke the valve, allowing propane to escape. Emily didn’t see the spreading cloud of gas, nor could she smell it because of the stench of the living dead. She slammed the magazine into her M-16A2, pulled back the charging handle, and aimed at a rotter in a jogging outfit with its bottom jaw missing. When she fired, the muzzle blast ignited the propane cloud. Flames engulfed the rear end of the tanker, incinerating Emily. It also set ablaze the first few rows of rotters. The fire followed the cloud through the valve and inside the tank.

Ten thousand gallons of propane ignited.

A giant fireball billowed into the sky and spread outward. Those rotters not vaporized were ripped apart by the blast. The shockwave spread down the bridge, wrecking nearby vehicles and scattering them in every direction. It also blasted through the span, tearing it free from its suspension cables. The section of bridge underneath the tanker collapsed, plunging more than two hundred feet into the frigid water below, and ripping loose several of the spans on either side of it. One by one they broke free, some twisting off and plummeting into the water, others dangling for a few moments before breaking free. Vehicles and rotters rained into the Bay. The last section to separate was four to the south of the initial blast. The southern and eastern supports broke loose first, and it dropped vertically, spilling its contents. It swung back and forth for several seconds before its weight tore it free. It fell into the Bay, pulling a lengthy section of the western pedestrian walkway with it.

* * *

Sandy had no idea what had happened. For a split second she thought the world had ended. The shockwave had dissipated by the time it reached them, having been absorbed by distance and the surrounding vehicles. However, the concussion and the collapse of the center sections set in motion a chain reaction throughout the rest of the structure. The span swayed several feet in each direction, accompanied by the unnerving sound of straining steel. Someone screamed. Sandy was so terrified she couldn’t be certain if it was her or someone else. She fell onto the walkway, her fingers clutching the wood, praying it didn’t give way beneath her.

* * *

For Kim, it was the end of the world. One second he was rushing toward the southern bank, and the next everything around him exploded, knocking him off his feet and deafening him. He felt the bridge swaying. Rolling onto his side, he saw the center sections break away and drop into the Bay. When the last piece of bridge collapsed, it pulled several additional sections of walkway with it, like a piece of yarn being unraveled from a sweater. Kim scrambled to his feet and raced forward as the section under his feet gave way. He plummeted two hundred feet into the Bay, his body splattering when it impacted against the chunks of walkway underneath him.