Fifteen minutes later, the convoy departed Andover. Sultanic took the lead, driving the Mack, while Tibor followed in the school bus. Dravko drove the armored car, with Compton in the front seat and Robson and Thompson spread out in back. Tatyana brought up the rear in the Ryder. Beside her sat Mad Dog and Jennifer, the former wrapping his arm around the girl to comfort her.
They had barely driven five miles before Robson dozed off, lulled by the swaying of the armored car and the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours.
* * *
Robson woke up slowly, disoriented and only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He did not know how long he had slept, but it must have been awhile since he remembered dreaming. Christ, he even remembered the details, though that was not difficult. He always had the same vision, a recurring nightmare of that day he and Susan had been overrun by rotters outside of Newington. Being out here in the middle of rotter hell had dredged up dormant memories.
Usually he woke from his nightmare in a cold sweat with his heart pounding against his chest. However, what woke Robson this time was not the physical anxiety caused by these hellish visions, but the sound of Dravko’s voice.
“Sunrise is not for several hours yet.”
“Are you sure?” Sultanic’s voice came over the radio.
“Yes,” Dravko said into the radio.
“Then how do you explain it?”
Robson yawned and stretched his arms and legs. The rear compartment of the armored car definitely had not been designed for comfort. He sat up and leaned against the interior wall. “What’s going on?”
Dravko looked over his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s okay.” Robson ran a hand across his hair. “What’s Sultanic talking about?”
“Hell if I know. He thinks the sun’s coming up.”
“Shit.” Robson crouched down between the driver and passengers seats. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Only for two and a half hours.”
Robson was still confused. “Then what’s he talking about?”
Before Dravko could answer, Sultanic’s voice came over the radio again, this time sounding frustrated. “Is anyone there?”
Dravko keyed the microphone. “I’m here.”
“If sunrise isn’t for several hours, then can you explain to me what that glow on the horizon is?”
Robson leaned forward to look out the driver’s window. Sultanic was right. A bright yellow glow stretched along a large swath of the southern horizon. He could not see the source because of the surrounding terrain, but something created the light, and it was big judging by the reflection projecting off the overlying cloud cover.
Tibor’s voice chimed in over the radio. “I see it, too. Any idea what it is?”
Dravko looked to Robson, who shrugged. He keyed the microphone. “No idea yet. Wake up everyone on the bus in case it’s trouble.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
Robson pulled out his map and laid it on the floor in front of him, using a flashlight to illuminate it. “Where are we?”
“Route 149. A sign a few miles back said we’re about twenty miles from Interstate 87.”
By now all the commotion had roused Compton and Thompson. The doctor sat forward, looking anxiously out the windshield. “Is everything all right?”
“We have lights off to the south,” said Robson. He placed his finger on the map. “It looks like it’s coming from Glens Falls. Maybe they still have electricity.”
“Doubtful,” said Compton. “We passed Glens Falls on the way here. The city was pitch black and deserted.”
“Well, something’s generating a lot of light.”
Thompson tapped Robson on the shoulder. “Can I take a look?”
“Be my guest.” Robson pulled the map back into the rear of the armored car and made room for Thompson.
The colonel leaned forward and looked out the driver’s window. “Shit.”
“You know what it is?”
Thompson sat back down. “The light is shimmering off of the clouds.”
“So?” asked Dravko.
“I’ve seen that only once before. In Kuwait back in 1991 after Saddam Hussein set fire to the Kuwaiti oilfields.”
“You mean something’s on fire?” asked Robson.
“It looks that way.”
“If you’re right, then that’s one helluva fire,” said Dravko.
Fifteen minutes later, their worst fears were confirmed when the convoy rounded a bend in the road and had an unobstructed view of Glens Falls. A conflagration consumed most of the city. The residential neighborhoods scattered north and west of the river were engulfed as a wall of flames over a hundred feet high marched across the area. Above the city, thousands of sparks flittered across the night sky like giant lightning bugs, many falling back to earth to ignite homes, trees, and parks, each of which then merged into the spreading inferno.
The convoy continued along the outskirts of Glens Falls, passing underneath the interchange with Interstate 87 and turning south. It traveled less than a mile when the lead vehicles slowed to a halt.
Dravko picked up the radio. “Keep moving.”
“We can’t,” replied Sultanic. “Fire’s blocking the road.”
Dravko pulled the armored car into the parallel lane. A few hundred feet ahead of them, the houses on either side of the road burned furiously. Several flaming trees and utility poles had toppled over into the street, blocking their path.
“What now?” asked Sultanic.
Robson took the radio from Dravko. “Head back to the interstate. We’ll regroup there. And for Christ’s sake, haul ass.”
“What’s the rush?” asked Dravko.
“If the flames close in on the road behind us, we’ll all be burned alive.”
Dravko did not need to be told twice. Shifting into reverse, he backed the armored car into a three-point turn and headed the way they had just come, pausing just long enough to make certain the other vehicles had made the turn safely.
Five minutes later the convoy gathered near the overpass for Interstate 87. As everyone stepped out of their vehicles, they were greeted by the deafening roar of a city consuming itself. A cool, strong wind rushed past them as the conflagration sucked in the surrounding air, feeding the fire. Robson took out his map and placed it on the hood of the armored car. As the other drivers huddled around him, he studied the map, holding down the ends with each hand so it did not flap in the wind. The fire was so intense he did not need a flashlight to read it. Unfortunately, the flames did not give him any insight on how to get around this situation.
“Where do we go from here?” asked Sultanic.
Robson shook his head in disgust. “Every other route around Glens Falls either takes us hundreds of miles out of our way or through heavily populated areas.”
“What about the back roads?” asked Dravko. “Some of these side streets eventually have to take us out to another major road.”
“Yeah, but which ones?” asked O’Bannon. “These maps don’t go into that level of detail. What happens if we get stuck in a cul-de-sac filled with rotters?”
“Why don’t we just go through Glens Falls?” offered Thompson.
Robson shook his head. “You saw the road back there. It’s impassable.”
“I’m not talking about that road.” Thompson pointed above him to the overpass. “It runs right through the neighborhoods and avoids built-up areas. We’d probably bypass most of the fire. Five minutes at top speed and we’ll be in the clear.”
“Too risky. Suppose we run into blocked traffic?”
“We took the interstate coming from Site R. An accident clogged the southbound lanes, but the northbound ones are wide open. There’s nothing in our way for at least twenty or thirty miles.”
Robson still wasn’t convinced. “We can’t take the chance.”
“We can’t afford not to,” added O’Bannon. “Windows didn’t have a chance to check
out any of the other roads. If we try to go around this, God knows what we’ll run into. This may not be the best option, but it’s the best one we’ve got.”
Robson looked over at Dravko. “What do you think?”
The vampire put on a show of bravado. “When do we ever do things the easy way?”
“Then it’s settled. We go through Glens Falls.” Robson lifted the map off the armored car, almost losing it in the breeze, and folded it. “Keep five hundred feet between vehicles. Sultanic will lead the way in the Mack to clear the path. And for God’s sake, don’t stop for anything until you’ve reached the other side. Let’s roll.”
The small group broke up and headed back to their vehicles. Robson watched them. Sultanic helped Caylee out of the exposed gun mount and made her join him in the cab. He could tell by the vampire’s dire expression that he was not happy about leading the convoy into the inferno. As Tibor climbed aboard the school bus, the others bombarded him with questions. Robson could not hear the conversations, but he could tell by the yells of protest and the way several of the Angels cast him disapproving looks that they disagreed. Even Mad Dog, who was never fazed, shot him an awkward glance. Robson began having second thoughts about his decision, despite the support from the other leaders. Hell, after all they had been through, burning to death hundreds of miles from camp would suck.
Dravko slid up behind him. “Are you ready?”
“Not really.”
“Do you want to drive?”
Robson shook his head. “I trust you.”
Dravko smiled and headed for the armored car. Robson followed and crawled into the back, closing and securing the door behind him.
Sultanic shifted the Mack into drive. The truck lurched forward, crossed underneath the twin overpasses, and turned toward the exit ramp. Its engine roared as it picked up speed. A few seconds later, the Mack reached the northbound lanes of Interstate 87 traveling at close to fifty miles an hour. By the time Dravko drove the armored car onto the highway, the Mack was merely a dark image against the flame-filled night sky.
The conflagration had not spread this far north, so the first mile remained uneventful. Random embers blew across the highway. Some came to rest in trees, igniting the dry foliage, or settled onto small patches of grass that began to smolder. As the convoy drew closer to the center of Glens Falls, the flames grew steadily denser, consuming everything. At that point, the median widened enough to contain a thin line of trees that blocked the southbound lanes from view. Ahead of them, the trees on either side of the highway burned furiously, creating a fiery tunnel that the Mack plunged into.
Inside the armored car, Robson and the others felt a spike in the temperature as the flames closed in around them. A mixture of burning embers and ash coated the windshield. Dravko switched on the wipers. The blades squeaked across the glass, leaving gray streaks. When Dravko sprayed the windshield washer fluid, most of it evaporated into wisps of steam.
Robson felt the sweat forming on his forehead. “This was a bad idea.”
Dravko grinned. “Remind me to say ‘no shit’ if we get out of this al—”
The brake lights on the school bus suddenly flared red and then its speed dropped rapidly. Dravko pulled into the outer lane and sped past. As he took second place, he keyed the microphone.
“Why are you slowing down?”
Tibor’s voice came over the radio, fear in his tone. “I want to stay far away from Sultanic.”
“Why?”
“Because the dump bed is catching too many embers.”
“Fuck!” Robson strained through the smeared windshield to see the Mack. Even from this distance he could see the paint on the fifty-five-gallon drums beginning to smolder. He grabbed the radio from Dravko.
“Sultanic, do you copy?”
Caylee answered, her voice flustered. “We’re a little busy here.”
“You’re about to get even busier. The drums of gasoline are about to explode.”
“Fuck!” Caylee yelled into the microphone.
A few seconds later, the convoy emerged from the trees and the area on either side of the interstate opened up. Robson immediately realized that they had traded one hell for another. Glens Falls spread out in every direction. Here the fire was less intense because a majority of the buildings were commercial, composed of steel and concrete that did not ignite as easily as the wooden homes. With little here to burn, the surrounding air was sucked toward the center of the conflagration, creating a convection plain. The winds raced across the highway at close to forty miles per hour, forcing Dravko to steer into the wind to keep the armored car going straight.
Suddenly, Sultanic veered to the left and drove the Mack toward the shoulder. The others began to follow, but his voice came across the radio.
“Stay on the interstate. I’ll catch up.”
Robson made his way to the rear window to keep his eye on the Mack. Rather than veering toward the shoulder, Sultanic headed for an exit ramp. He raced the truck down it and across the interchange, pushing aside a Prius abandoned in the middle of the road. As the Mack entered the incline of the opposite ramp, the dump bed began to slowly elevate. As the angle increased, the drums of gasoline slid along the metal, inching toward the rear. They eventually tumbled onto their side and rolled out the back, crashing to the asphalt. A fireball erupted behind the truck, extending across the ramp and washing over the Mack’s dump bed. For a moment, Robson could not see the truck and feared it might have been engulfed. But as the fireball dimmed, he could see the truck accelerating up the ramp, tongues of flame licking off the bed. The Mack merged back onto the interstate and fell in behind the Ryder.
From up front, Dravko keyed his microphone. “Sultanic, you all right?”
“Yeah, but that was a little too close for my liking. Are we almost out of this hellhole?”
“Almost.”
The conflagration still roared off to their left, but had not yet traveled to the southern, residential outskirts of the city spread out in front of them. With the prevailing winds blowing north, falling embers had not ignited the surrounding homes. Flames from the burning city reflected off of windows. Convection winds bent the tops of trees toward the inferno as if nature pointed to where the danger lay. Thankfully, the road ahead was clear, and the convoy sailed through the neighborhood without mishap, covering the next three miles in as many minutes.
Finally, the convoy crossed the bridge spanning the river that marked the southern boundary of Glens Falls. Once on the opposite banks, the homes and commercial buildings gave way to trees and fields, leaving the inferno behind them.
Chapter Twenty-five
Approximately a mile outside of Glens Falls, the convoy exited the interstate onto Route 9 and stopped to assess the damage. Daytona and Whitehouse checked out each vehicle to make certain they were fit to continue, and were pleasantly surprised at just how well they had fared. Each of them had suffered from blistered paint due to the intense heat. The Mack came through the worst because of the explosion from the ignited drums of gasoline; most of the aft half of the dump bed was blackened from where the flames had burned off the paint and seared the metal. Ironically, the two innermost drums in the front right corner of the bed had not broken loose from their mountings. Sultanic and Caylee were fortunate that those drums did not explode when the fireball erupted around them, otherwise everyone in the front cab would have been roasted alive. Beyond that, each vehicle looked fine. None of the engines had overheated, none of the hoses or belts had melted, and none of the circuitry had gotten fried.
As the two mechanics went over the vehicles, the others sat around near the school bus eating a late night dinner. Most of the conversation focused on small talk related to their recent run through Glens Falls. Sultanic told the best story, dramatically relating how he raced through the side streets with his truck bed filled with flaming gasoline sloshing over the rim until he found a safe place to release his volatile cargo. At least, that was how Sultanic told it.
Even Caylee seemed animated when telling her own part of the saga. It was the first time she had shown any emotion other than depression or anger since Jordan’s death.
More importantly, it was the first time humans and vampires bonded in such a manner.
As the Angels changed shifts, Robson pulled out his map and checked their location.
“How far out of the way did our little adventure take us?” asked Compton.
“Not far at all.” Robson swigged down a huge mouthful of water from a plastic bottle, still parched from the heat of the inferno. “We originally planned on approaching Saratoga Springs via the Route 9 Bypass. Instead, we took the commercial road.”
“Saratoga Springs?” questioned Thompson. “Is that our next way point?”
“Yeah. It’s a fairly large town about ten miles south of here. But there’s no going around it, at least not without going through even larger urban centers or traveling a hundred miles out of our way.” Robson opened his satchel bag and pulled out a folder, shuffled through it, and withdrew five photographs of commercial imagery. He handed the sheets to Natalie on his left, who passed them along. “According to the last satellite photos downloaded by Windows, the path we’re going to take runs through the center of town along the main commercial road. The route looks wide open.”
Dravko looked at the photos as they passed by him. Even with his advanced night vision he could barely make out any details in the dim light. “How can you even read these things?”
“I go with what Windows tells me.” Robson grinned. “Of course, if you think she’s wrong, you’re free to go scout ahead for us.”
“No, thanks,” chuckled Dravko. He passed the photos down to the colonel. “You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”
“So what’s the game plan?” asked Natalie.
Robson looked at his watch. “It’s just after midnight. We’ll head out in about half an hour. It shouldn’t take us long to clear the town. After that, it’s open driving until we get to southern Pennsylvania.”
Rotter World Page 14