Rotter Apocalypse

by Scott M. Baker

  “Do you think you can carry this?

  Cindy looked apprehensive as she took the bag. Her face lit up when she realized how light it was. “No problem.”

  Windows helped the girl slide it over her shoulders and picked up another AK-47 with her right hand. She placed her left behind Cindy’s head and ruffled her hair. “Okay, let’s move out.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have no idea.” Windows walked down the road in the direction they had been heading. “We’ll know it when we get there.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Jesus,” Robson muttered under his breath.

  “I told you it wouldn’t be easy,” Simmons replied.

  From their vantage point on top of the hill, Robson used his night vision goggles to scan the Super Walmart a quarter of a mile away. The building looked pristine. Along the front, the doors remained closed and the windows were intact. No debris lay spread across the parking lot, so the store probably had not been ransacked. The only things in the parking lot were a dozen vehicles left by their owners in scattered spaces. And, of course, a few hundred rotters that milled around the building.

  Robson passed the goggles to DeWitt on his right. He said to Simmons, “We’ve seen worse.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” said Robson.

  “You have,” DeWitt chimed in as he looked through the goggles. “This is a whole new Hell for us.”

  Sadly, what DeWitt said was true. Robson had seen worse, much worse. During those times he had an entire raiding party behind him, including the Angels, four vampires, and his own team of six. Because of the trip to Site R, the assault on the rape camp, and sending the Angels west with the vaccine for the Zombie Virus, those numbers had dwindled down to Dravko, Tibor, DeWitt, and Roberta. Bringing along Linda had been a necessary evil; although not psychologically ready to face a rotter horde, she was the only person in the group with medical experience, and they needed her to gather supplies inside the pharmacy. Robson had left Caslow back at Gilmanton, ostensibly to take care of Wayans. In reality, he didn’t want him around. So that left him with a total of seven people, half of them untrained, to break into a Walmart, steal enough food and supplies to accommodate more than thirty people, and sneak out, all while avoiding the horde of the living dead.

  He must be fucking insane.

  “You and Wayans have never actually been inside?” asked Robson.

  “No need to. We already had everything we needed. We considered this our emergency reserve. And what better way to protect it?”

  “Lucky for us no one overrode your security system.”

  DeWitt huffed. “Do you really think we’ll have any better luck getting past all those rotters?”

  “No,” said Robson. “We don’t have to get past them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Watch and learn.” Robson turned back to Simmons. “I’m going to need you to create a diversion. Take the Hummer and drive through the west end of the parking lot. Once you get their attention, lead them away from the building. Take Dravko and Tibor with—”

  “No,” Dravko interrupted. “We’re going inside with you.”

  “You’re not vaccinated against the Zombie Virus. If one of them bites you, you have no protection.”

  “Our extinction is inevitable no matter how hard you try to protect us. Besides, we’re tired of being relegated to the sideline. Tibor and I are part of this team. If you go into that building, we’re going with you.”

  The determination in Dravko’s eyes told Robson it would be futile to argue.

  “Do you mind being on your own?” Robson asked Simmons.

  “Not as long as I don’t have to mix it up with the living dead. Don’t you need me to hang around in case you need help?”

  Robson shook his head. “If we get into more trouble than we can handle, there’s nothing you’ll be able to do. Lead the rotters away from us for as long as possible, and then head back to Gilmanton.”

  “Roger that.”

  Robson faced the rest of his team “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Simmons led the three-vehicle convoy along the county road leading to Super Walmart. Ahead of him he could see the southern entrance to the parking lot, and two hundred feet beyond that the northern entrance. He continued to the furthest one and entered. Robson swung the Ryder truck in behind Simmons, stopped before entering the lot, and shut down the engine and headlights. Dravko pulled his Humvee alongside the Ryder and did the same. Both vehicles sat silent, leaving the black Hummer H3 as the only noise in the parking lot.

  As anticipated, it attracted considerable attention.

  Every rotter in the vicinity shifted their gaze onto Simmons. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Instinct told him to gun it for the other entrance and get out of there. Instead, he coasted through the parking lot, careful to avoid concentrations of the living dead. The deeper in he drove, the harder that became as rotters swarmed him. Simmons ignored those closest to him and blared the horn to attract the ones on the perimeter. One by one, each of the living dead lumbered toward him. Some staggered around the sides of the building or emerged from around back. A small group that had clustered around the front doors, their attention directed inside the building, was the last to focus on him. Within a minute, several hundred rotters converged around his Hummer.

  Simmons’ heart raced and his body tensed. He warned himself to stay calm. If he panicked and allowed the rotters to overwhelm his vehicle, he’d never make it out alive. Concentrating on the parking lot rather than the oncoming horde, Simmons calculated the path of least resistance and maneuvered through it, making his way toward the southern entrance. Several times he had to swerve around rotters, and occasionally ran some down. Others clawed against the side of the Hummer, grasping at him until he could barely see out the side windows because of the decayed flesh and gore stains. Flies and wasps covered the windshield, blocking his view. The sound of bones and fingernails scraping against the glass, accompanied by the incessant moaning, threatened to paralyze him with fear. He felt himself clenching his bladder and sphincter, and his thinking becoming frenzied. Just as Simmons felt his nerves about to give way, he broke through the outer perimeter of living dead and into an empty portion of the parking lot, heading toward the exit.

  When Simmons glanced in his side mirrors, he could see the mass converging on him. He slowed his speed enough for them to keep up with but not catch him. The seconds dragged by like minutes as he passed through the exit and turned left onto the main road, leading the rotters out of the area. Eventually, Super Walmart or Robson’s other two vehicles disappeared from view. With only the mass of living dead following close behind, Simmons felt like he was some sort of demonic Pied Piper.

  * * *

  It took almost an hour for Simmons to clear the rotters out of the parking lot. Robson waited an extra ten minutes to make sure the horde was far enough away before starting the Ryder. He headed around back, with Dravko close behind him. When they pulled behind the building, Robson saw half a dozen rotters milling around the back lot, stragglers that had not followed the main herd. Nothing they couldn’t handle. When they cruised along the rear façade, the few living dead shambled toward them.

  The rear entrance was located in the center of the building, fifteen feet from the loading dock. A military-style Humvee in camouflage paint was parked diagonally between the two. Its doors had been left open. A body lay on the pavement near the vehicle with an M-16A2 automatic rifle resting nearby. As the headlights illuminated it, Robson noticed the body had been picked clean of flesh and muscles except for some residual chunks of tissue attached to the shoulders and skull. Its head fell to the side and its jaws snapped at the air.

  “Looks like someone had the same idea you did,” said Linda from the passenger seat.

  “We’ll have better luck.” Robson maneuvered around the military Humvee and backed the Ryder into the loading dock
. When he felt the truck’s rear thump against the rubber bumpers, he shifted into park and shut down the engine. “Let’s go.”

  Dravko had parked close to the entrance. While Tibor checked the door, DeWitt and Roberta fanned out, neutralizing the few rotters with head shots. Robson joined the vampires by the door.

  “Can we get in?” he asked.

  “It’s locked,” responded Tibor. “I can break it, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Tibor pulled on the handle, the muscles along his neck and shoulders straining. The steel around the jamb groaned under the pressure until the deadbolt snapped. He opened the door and smirked. “After you.”

  Slipping on his night vision goggles, Robson raised his Atchisson AA-12 assault shotgun, an automatic version of a shotgun that held twenty rounds in a drum magazine, and stepped into the storage room. He scanned the area from right to left, and saw no signs of danger. Pushing the goggles onto his forehead, he motioned for the others to follow. One by one they entered and switched on their flashlights, each checking out the area for themselves. Tibor entered last, closing the door behind him, sliding a broom through the handle, and resting it against the jamb.

  Robson stepped over to the double doors leading onto the main floor and motioned to the others. “Douse the lights.”

  When the storage room went dark, Robson slid the goggles back over his eyes and pushed open one of the swinging double doors leading onto the main floor. He half expected to be greeted by a wall of the living dead. Instead, everything seemed normal. No signs of movement. Not even any indication that the store had been looted. From this vantage point, it appeared as though the place had been closed prior to the outbreak and never visited again.

  Robson stepped back into the storage room and pushed the goggles up onto his forehead. “You can turn the flashlights back on.”

  As their glare lit up the storage room, he continued. “I don’t think this place has been touched, so this should be easy. That doesn’t mean you can be careless. We’ve seen easy turn to shit too many times before. Linda and Tibor will head for the pharmacy and gather medical supplies. DeWitt and Roberta will be responsible for clothing. Dravko and I will get the food. Any questions?” When no one responded, Robson said, “Move out.”

  The three groups exited the storage room and spread out through the store.

  * * *

  DeWitt and Roberta made their way to the center of the store to the clothing department. They stood between the men’s and women’s sections. “Now what?” DeWitt asked.

  Roberta searched around until she found a wheeled clothing rack upon which hung dresses and children’s garments. She gathered them in her arms, lifted off the hangers, and tossed the pile onto the floor. She pushed the rack over to DeWitt. “Grab sweatpants, jeans, and t-shirts for men and women. Make sure you take only small sizes. Load this up and meet me back here in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get everything else we need.” Without waiting for a response, Roberta headed for the footwear department. She found a shopping cart at the end of one of the aisles stacked with shoe boxes. The staff must have been in the process of restocking when they abandoned the store. That made it easier for her. She emptied the shopping cart and proceeded up and down each aisle, filling it with running shoes of various sizes. When she felt she had collected a wide enough variety to accommodate all the survivors, she headed over to the underwear section and grabbed boxers, panties, bras, and socks. By the time Roberta had made her rounds and returned to the clothing section, DeWitt had finished gathering his items.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “I think so. I can’t fit anything else on this thing.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Roberta spun the shopping cart around and led the way toward the storage room.

  * * *

  Robson and Dravko approached the food section. The vampire raised a hand and placed it on his friend’s chest. “Do you smell that?”

  Robson inhaled. He did. It was the stench of decayed flesh.

  Robson raised his AA-12, shut off his flashlight, and lowered his night vision goggles over his eyes. Dravko morphed into his vampiric form, his human features changing into a furrowed brow and fanged mouth. His fingers elongated, the nails becoming two-inch talons. Together, the two walked into the food section, anticipating the inevitable rotter attack.

  Moving down the cereal aisle toward the bakery, Dravko took the lead. He sniffed the air and pointed toward the back. Robson nodded in acknowledgment. At the end of the aisle, Dravko peered around the corner and waved on his friend. Robson fell in behind the vampire and they made their way toward the rear of the store. He scanned behind the bakery counter and down each aisle they passed, searching for rotters. His fingers tensed around the trigger. When Dravko reached the rear wall, he laughed.

  Robson moved up beside him. “What’s so funny?”

  “There are our rotters.” Dravko pointed to the refrigeration units along the rear wall. With the electricity out, the units had failed, allowing hundreds of pounds of meat to spoil. Numerous cellophane wrappers had broken open, and the exposed meat was swarming with maggots and flies.

  “Thank God for small favors.” Robson shone his flashlight along the rear wall until it fell upon the dairy section. “Come with me.”

  “Everything there is spoiled.”

  “I’m not looking for food.” Robson walked down to a cart in the center of the aisle stacked with milk crates, half of them empty. He removed the full ones and dumped the gallon cartons onto the floor. “We can use these to carry the food.”

  Dravko helped empty the crates. “You get the peanut butter and powdered milk. I’ll take care of the cheese and jerky.”

  “Gotcha.” Robson placed half the empty crates back on the cart and wheeled it toward the grocery section. He emptied the shelves of peanut butter before switching aisles and doing the same with the powdered milk. When he pushed the cart back toward the dairy section, he found Dravko crouched, examining something on the floor. The concern on the vampire’s face bothered him.

  “What’s wrong?” Robson asked.

  “Look at this.”

  Robson knelt beside Dravko and flashed his light onto a dried pool of blood that stained the tiles. The blood had been smeared around. Hand and footprints were mixed in among the streaks.

  “Fuck,” mumbled Robson.

  “We definitely are.”

  * * *

  Linda found the health and beauty section and headed straight for the vitamin aisle. She ran the flashlight along the shelves, relieved to find the bottles still there. Waving for Tibor to follow, she wandered to the pharmacy. As expected, the gates had been pulled down over the service windows and secured, and the door leading to the office had been bolted shut.

  She stepped back and motioned to the handle. “Can you open it?”

  “No problem.”

  Tibor stepped around Linda. Leaning to one side, he slammed his shoulder into the deadbolt. The frame shook but did not give. Tibor rammed it again, this time harder. The metal door swung open and crashed against the wall. Moving to one side, he made a melodramatic gesture with his hand for Linda to proceed first. She entered and shone the flashlight around. Jackpot. No one had touched the stocks since the outbreak, and everything she would need to assist the others in recovering was right here.

  Off to her left sat a two-wheeled dolly stacked with four gray plastic crates used to transport pharmaceuticals. She picked up the two top crates, emptied the contents onto the floor, and handed them to Tibor. “Take these. Fill one with multi-vitamins and the other with protein mixes.”

  Tibor took the crates and left. Linda emptied the next two containers and proceeded to fill them with antibiotics and other drugs.

  * * *

  Roberta and DeWitt approached the double doors leading to the storage room when they heard a noise that sounded like something being dragged across the floor. Th
ey spun around, panning their flashlights into the store, and saw nothing.

  “What was that?” DeWitt whispered.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t feel like hanging around to find out.” Roberta grabbed her cart and pushed it into the storage room. “Let’s load this stuff on the truck so we can get out of here when the others get back.”

  * * *

  Tibor finished loading one crate with multi-vitamins. When he knelt down to close the lid, he heard something running, followed by a snarl. Four swarmers in soiled National Guard cammies were rushing toward him. The nearest, only ten feet away, had no left arm; tendons and strips of decayed flesh hung from the empty socket. A second swarmer followed close behind, with a third fifty feet to the rear, hobbling along on legs that had chunks of flesh and muscle chewed out of them. The last of the living dead broke away from the pack and headed down a separate aisle toward the pharmacy.

  Lowering his right shoulder, Tibor dove to the side, colliding with the closest swarmer’s legs and knocking it to the floor. Coming out of his roll, he jumped up in front of the second swarmer. It lunged at him. Tibor dug his left hand into the swarmer’s chest to hold it in place and wrapped the right behind its head, cupping its chin. The swarmer flailed its head, trying to find flesh to bury its teeth in. Tibor yanked his right arm to the side, twisting the swarmer’s head around. The vertebrae crunched as the bones shattered. The swarmer dropped to the floor, motionless except for its mouth that still bit at its missed meal.

  A hand clasped Tibor’s shoulder. The one-armed swarmer had gotten back to its feet and resumed its attack. Tibor tried to yank himself free, but the swarmer clutched his jacket and would not let go. The two fell forward, crashed against the shelves, and sprawled to the floor amidst a cascade of plastic vitamin bottles. Tibor tried to stand, but couldn’t find a good foothold. He moved forward and twisted from side to side to keep the swarmer off balance. If it bit his exposed neck or shoulders, he was as good as dead. He crawled to a section of the aisle free of plastic bottles and stood up, dragging the one-armed swarmer with him. It leaned closer, and Tibor felt its teeth near his neck. He spun to his right to throw the swarmer off balance.