Rotter Apocalypse

by Scott M. Baker

  Tibor stared directly into the lifeless eyes of the leg-ravaged swarmer that had closed the distance between them.

  * * *

  Linda heard the commotion outside the pharmacy and looked through the customer window, unable to see anything because of the closed grating.

  “Tibor, are you okay?”

  Something growled. Linda knew right away what had made the noise. She sprinted to the door. A swarmer in National Guard cammies with the skin stripped off its chest, its abdomen exposed and empty, rushed toward her from inside the store. She reached the door first, closed it shut, and reached up to secure the bolt. The swarmer slammed into the other side. The door burst open, smashing Linda in the face and knocking her back against a shelf of prescription drugs. The swarmer pushed its way into the pharmacy and lunged, pinning her against the shelf. Though stunned, she had the presence of mind to stop it. Her fingers clutched its ribcage, slipping through the rotting muscles and gore. She swallowed back the vomit rising in her throat and locked her elbows, keeping the swarmer at arms’ length. It tore at her arms, snarling and gnashing.

  Linda felt her muscles giving way under the onslaught.

  * * *

  Robson and Dravko had pushed their cart halfway back to the storage room when they heard the commotion around the pharmacy near the center of the store. Both men stopped. Robson shut off his flashlight and switched to the night vision goggles. He couldn’t see the entire store; however, in those sections within his line of sight, rotters climbed to their feet. He counted over a dozen, each spread out across the main floor. They twisted their heads, trying to determine where the noise came from. A loud bang from the pharmacy caught their attention, and the rotters lumbered off in that direction.

  “Take this back to the truck,” ordered Robson, pushing the cart toward Dravko. “I’ll check on Tibor and Linda.”

  “No.” Dravko grabbed his arm. “Tibor is from my coven. Let me go.”

  “Yell if you need help.”

  Robson pushed the cart toward the storage room. Dravko headed for the pharmacy.

  * * *

  Roberta and DeWitt pushed open the double doors leading into the storage room when they heard all hell break lose in the pharmacy. DeWitt raised the flashlight. Roberta placed her hand on the light and lowered the beam to the floor.

  “Don’t do that,” she whispered. “If there are rotters in here, the light will attract them.”

  “What about the others?”

  “They’ll be heading this way soon.”

  DeWitt stared at her in disbelief and contempt. Realizing how cowardly her remarks sounded, she explained, “Robson expects everyone to meet back here. If we go off searching for them, we’re liable to get separated.”

  DeWitt scrunched his lips. “Makes sense.”

  Roberta shoved the cart inside, and then took the wheeled clothes rack from DeWitt. “Wait here by the door. If anyone calls for help, we’ll go after them.”

  “What are you going to do?” DeWitt asked.

  “I’m going to load this stuff onto the truck.”

  Roberta pushed the cart and rack over to the loading dock door. She panned the flashlight from one end of the storage room to the other. Once certain that nothing lurked in the shadows, she crouched down, grabbed the handle, and lifted. The sickeningly sweet stench of rotting flesh wafted through the opening, accompanied by a dozen decaying hands. One clasped her ankle and pulled, knocking her over backward. Her flashlight fell to the floor and rolled so the beam shone outside. Roberta saw a dozen rotters on either side of the Ryder, crowded in front of the loading deck. Another twenty or thirty moved toward them from a clump of tress on the opposite side of the parking lot.

  A second and third pair of dead hands grabbed Roberta’s ankle and tried to pull her off the platform.

  * * *

  The ravaged-leg swarmer reached out for Tibor. Raising his right leg, Tibor kicked it in the chest. The swarmer fell back several feet, giving the vampire the few seconds he needed. Tibor brought down his leg, bent the knee, and crouched to his right while simultaneously digging both hands into the one-armed swarmer’s right shoulder. The move pulled the swarmer off of Tibor’s back and he threw it over his shoulder. When it crashed to the floor, Tibor took the talons of the middle and forefingers of his right hand and plunged them through the one-armed swarmer’s eyes. It spasmed once and went limp. Tibor jumped back to his feet to confront the ravaged-leg swarmer, which had closed to within five feet of him.

  Dravko stood in the center of the aisle. “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Tibor grinned. He motioned with his head to the pharmacy. “Help the human.”

  Dravko rushed off, and the ravaged-leg swarmer spun around toward him. Tibor took advantage of the opportunity. Launching himself at the swarmer, he grabbed its head in both hands and pushed. The two tumbled over. Tibor straightened his elbows and leaned forward, so when they hit the floor, all his weight was distributed to his hands. The swarmer’s head erupted beneath his palms, splattering brains and skull across the floor and shelves.

  Standing up, Tibor flicked away the gore. He heard a muffled snarl. Glancing behind him, he saw the first swarmer whose head he had twisted around spread out amongst the spilled vitamin bottles. Tibor walked over and stared down at it. Its eyes still focused on him, its teeth snapping and grinding. He sneered.

  “You’ll never beat me, motherfucker.”

  Tibor stomped his foot on the swarmer’s head, crushing it beneath his boot.

  * * *

  Although Linda tried pushing away the swarmer, she knew she couldn’t hold it back any longer. Weeks in the rape camp had left her with no strength. Giving in to the inevitable, she closed her eyes and prayed that the end would be quick, and let her arms collapse.

  The swarmer fell against her. Linda cried out in anticipation of being bitten. Instead, something lifted it off of her chest. She opened her eyes to see Dravko behind the swarmer, his hands clasping its neck and head, dragging it away. He smashed its head against the wall several times until the skull shattered, spurting brains and gore in a fan-shaped pattern. Dravko flung the carcass to one side. Linda stared at the corpse, still in a semi-state of shock.

  “Are you all right?” asked Dravko.

  Linda stared at him. She had not heard the question.

  “I asked if you’re all right.”

  She responded with barely a nod.

  “Good.” Dravko offered his hand. “We have to get out of here.”

  “No.” Linda’s head suddenly cleared. She went back into the pharmacy, stopped in front of the plastic crate, and resumed filling it with prescription medicines, grabbing bottles off the shelf and making quick decisions about their usefulness.

  “Are you crazy?” Dravko stepped into the pharmacy. “Rotters are closing in on us.”

  “A lot of good people are going to die if we don’t bring this stuff back, so let me work.” Linda glanced over at Dravko “I’m almost done. Give me a few minutes.”

  Dravko shook his head and stood by the door.

  * * *

  Robson avoided the few rotters throughout the store because their attention was focused on the commotion up front. He breathed a sigh of relief at his good fortune until he neared the storage room and heard Roberta screaming in terror. Leaving the cart in the center of the aisle, Robson swung the AA-12 off of his shoulder and raced the few yards for the swinging double doors leading to the storage room.

  He burst through to find Roberta lying by the open door of the loading dock. More than a dozen rotters swarmed around the edge, clutching at her legs. DeWitt crouched behind her, his hands under her arms, trying to pull her away. Too many dead hands grasped her. Roberta yelled and kicked frantically. Every time she broke one rotter’s grip, another took its place. Her pants were torn and blood covered her legs. Robson rushed up beside Roberta, aimed the AA-12 at the rotters closest to her, and pulled the trigger. A rapid-fire barrage of shotg
un shells tore into the horde. A cloud of gore formed as heads exploded, torsos burst open, and limbs were severed. Roberta kicked and screamed even louder. This time, with so many of the rotters cut down, DeWitt pulled her away. He dragged her across the floor, still thrashing and screaming. When Robson knelt beside her to offer comfort, she lashed out at him, nearly kicking him in the jaw. Robson grabbed Roberta by the collar, yanked her to her feet, and slapped her across the face. She calmed down instantly.

  Robson placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Roberta avoided his eyes. “I didn’t mean to panic like that.”

  “It’s understandable.” He stepped back and examined her legs. “Were you bit?”

  Roberta followed his gaze, her eyes widening as she noticed the blood for the first time. “I… I don’t know.”

  “We’ll check later.” Robson headed back to the loading dock.

  “What if I’ve been bit? I’ll turn.”

  “No you won’t. You’ve been vaccinated. Remember? DeWitt, there’s a cart outside the doors loaded with food. Bring it in here.”

  “Roger that.”

  Robson stepped over to the loading dock. The Ryder sat in the center backed up against the edge. To the left of the truck, another horde of rotters had moved into the gap where he had gunned down the previous lot. A second group swarmed around the gap to the right. As Robson approached the back of the truck, the living dead leaned in for him. Their arms were not long enough to reach, yet he felt uncomfortable with dozens of pairs of dead hands clutching at him only inches away. Pulling the latch up and to the left, he unfastened the Ryder’s rear door and slid it open. He moved back into the storage room and grabbed the clothes rack. He tapped Roberta on the arm and pointed to the shopping cart. “Bring that with you.”

  Getting behind the cart, Roberta pushed it toward the truck, stopping several feet from the edge of the loading dock. Robson loaded the clothes rack into the back of the Ryder and shoved it toward the front. He took the cart from Roberta and did the same thing. DeWitt entered the storage room pushing the cart with the crates of food.

  “Bad news,” warned DeWitt. He rushed past Robson and headed for the Ryder. “We have five rotters heading this way.”

  “Shit.” Robson removed the empty magazine from his A-12, replaced it with a full one, and took up a firing position in front of the swinging double doors.

  * * *

  Linda closed the lid on the second plastic crate and piled both onto the two-wheel hand truck. “I’m ready.”

  “Is that everything?” asked Dravko.

  “It’s all we can carry.” She pushed the hand truck toward the door. “Now let’s get Tibor’s boxes and get out of here.”

  Dravko led the way. When they reached Tibor, he had his two crates filled and placed them on top of the others.

  Linda saw the dead swarmers. “What happened?” she asked.

  Tibor smirked. “These little shits are no match for us.”

  “Gloat later,” Dravko reprimanded his friend. He said to Linda, “There are no more than eight rotters between us and the exit. You’ll have to use the flashlight to see where you’re going, which is going to attract them. Stay close to us, and we’ll get you out of here safely. Okay?”

  “I trust you,” said Linda.

  “Then let’s go. Tibor, you lead.”

  Tibor set off for the storage room, and Linda tilted the hand truck and followed. Dravko brought up the rear. She kept the flashlight beam lowered to the floor to make certain she didn’t trip over anything, and that allowed her to see the rotters moving in the shadows around her. A female in a blue Walmart apron stained dark with blood stumbled out from behind a clothing display. Tibor morphed into his vampiric form and rushed forward. He swiped at it with his right hand, his talons catching it on the cheek and tearing off its lower jaw, then shoved it aside. The rotter moved toward Linda as she rushed past. Without a lower jaw it posed little threat. Linda heard a snarl approaching from behind, followed by a muffled grunt and the sound of a body dropping to the floor. She barely noticed, her attention drawn instead to the two rotters coming at them from the front. The closest wore a tattered sundress that hung in rags around its waist, its chest and shoulders stripped of all flesh and most muscles. The one behind it hobbled along on a right leg that showed a compound fracture of the femur. Tibor hunched over and raced forward, smashing his left shoulder into the abdomen of the sundress rotter and sending it careening backwards into the one with the fractured leg. Both of the living dead tumbled to the floor and slid into a DVD display. Tibor waved them on.

  A minute later they burst into the storage room where Robson stood with his automatic shotgun aimed at them.

  * * *

  Robson tightened his finger on the trigger at the sound of approaching feet. He lowered the weapon the moment he saw Dravko and the others. “We were about to come looking for you.”

  “We’re okay,” said Dravko. “We have half a dozen rotters on our tail.”

  “Tell me about it.” Robson motioned behind him to the horde around the Ryder. He pointed to Linda. “Get those in back.”

  Linda maneuvered the hand truck onto the Ryder.

  “Everyone get on board,” Robson ordered. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Only one problem,” said Dravko. “How are we going to get into the front?”

  Robson swore under his breath, partly because of his own stupidity. He hadn’t realized that there was no access to the front cab from the truck bed. The Ryder’s roof sat flush with the top of the loading dock door, leaving only a few inches to crawl through. The only way to get to the driver’s seat was to jump off the dock and make his way to the front. With close to twenty rotters on that side of the Ryder, he would never make it. They were screwed. Robson stepped back and examined the storage room. Ten feet to the left sat the exterior door leading into the parking lot. He had an idea. A really bad idea, yet at this point they were out of options.

  “It’s only twenty feet between that door and the truck. If you guys keep them distracted, I should be able to make it.”

  DeWitt shook his head. “You won’t get ten feet.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?”

  DeWitt averted his gaze.

  “I do,” said Dravko. “I can crawl up the side of the truck onto the roof and make my way to the cab. Clear a path for me with your shotgun.”

  Before Robson could respond, the swinging double doors leading to the main floor burst open and a rotter dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans hobbled into the storage room. Robson raised his AA-12 and fired two rounds that tore off its head. Before the body hit the floor he began shouting, “Everybody on the truck! Now!”

  The others ran into the back. Robson and Dravko stepped to the left side of the loading dock. The living dead crowded around the rear of the Ryder, moaning and clutching at them.

  Robson took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

  “No, but let’s do it.”

  Two more rotters pushed through the double doors into the storage area. Robson lowered his AA-12 at the loading dock and pulled the trigger, swinging the shotgun from left to right and blowing apart the nearest rotters. The shattered bodies dropped to the ground, and before the other living dead could move into their place, Dravko morphed into his vampiric form and jumped onto the side of the Ryder. With his taloned fingers, he scaled the side of the truck onto the roof before the next tier of rotters could get to him, and ran down toward the cab.

  In one fluid motion, Robson spun around, dropped the empty magazine from his AA-12, and loaded a full one. Five rotters from inside the store came across the storage room, the closest only a few feet away. Robson raised the shotgun and pulled the trigger, sending two rounds into the closest rotter’s head, churning it into a cloud of red dust. Taking careful aim, he dispatched the other four with head shots. Three more pushed their way into the storage room and headed for him.

  Once on the cab�
��s roof, Dravko leaned over. The door was closed and the window rolled up. Seven rotters gathered around, reaching up for him. Dravko jumped down onto the Ryder’s hood and kicked at the windshield until it cracked and the frame bent inward. Grabbing it by the exposed corners, he ripped it out, tossed it aide, and crawled in behind the steering wheel. When he turned on the ignition, the rotters outside the cab became frantic, clawing and scraping at the door. Dravko rolled down the window half way and yelled to Robson.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Swing by the Hummer so I can pick it up.”

  Dravko shifted into gear, and Robson stepped into the bed of the Ryder, firing several rounds at three more rotters that entered the storage room. He held on to the strap so he didn’t fall out when the truck pulled away from the loading dock. The horde of rotters gave chase. He leaned back and yelled, “Roberta, Dewitt! Get up here and cover me!”

  Dravko swung the Ryder around and pulled the back end by the driver’s door of their Humvee. The rotters were twenty feet away. Robson jumped down from the truck, raced over to the Humvee, and climbed inside. He had the vehicle started before any of the living dead could reach him. Flashing the headlights to let Dravko know he was ready, he fell in behind the Ryder. The two vehicles accelerated across the parking lot and away from Super Walmart. He glanced into his rearview mirror to see the rotters still chasing them.