Rotter Apocalypse

by Scott M. Baker

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Fogel released his grip on Natalie’s hands and sat back in the easy chair. “Corporal Brown had some exceptional things to say about you. It seems discipline had fallen apart after Captain Endo was killed, and the outcome might have been different if you hadn’t taken charge.”

  Natalie felt embarrassed. “All I did was shake them out of their initial shock. Endo’s troops did the rest.”

  “True. Yet you saw that they had faltered and kicked them back in line. That’s the type of leadership we need. Only a handful of my people are professionally-trained soldiers, including a number of vets or people with police training. Most are civilians who signed on because they want to take this fight back to the revenants. They want to clear them out of our cities and towns, take back their homes, and start over. You and your Angels would be a major asset to the cause.”

  “We’ll even keep you together as a unit if you want,” added Thomas.

  “I’m definitely on board,” said Natalie.

  “What about the other Angels?” Fogel asked.

  “Let me talk to them. I don’t see why they’d say no.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “No fucking way!” Amy practically shouted.

  Natalie looked to each of the other Angels seated around the table in the empty dining hall. Doreen, Sandy, and Stephanie were with Amy on the opposite side. Josephine sat to Natalie’s left, her arm in a sling, and Ari to her right.

  “Why not?” Natalie asked.

  “Haven’t we done enough?” Amy answered in a calmer voice.

  An awkward silence followed. When Natalie had gathered her girls together to present Secretary Fogel’s offer, she had anticipated they would accept. She had not expected such a vehement reaction. She wanted to respond, to shout back, to defend her position, or try to reason with the Angels. Truth be known, however, after what they had gone through the past month, Natalie couldn’t blame them. She slumped her shoulders and sighed.

  Amy cared for her friend too much to allow her to lose face. Reaching out, she clasped Natalie’s hand. “You know as well as any of us that we’ve done more these past few weeks to end this apocalypse than most of the people here. We were not ready to deal with any of it. It took a toll on us, and not only in the friends we lost. I’m not afraid—”

  “I never said you were,” Natalie cut in.

  Amy squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We all know that what’s going to happen next is far worse than anything we’ve gone through up until now. I can’t take any more. Maybe if I’d spent the last eight months sitting safely on Alcatraz training for this, I’d be more willing to participate. After what we’ve been through…. well, it’s time to let someone else take up the fight.”

  “Do you all feel this way?” Natalie asked.

  Everyone except Ari and Doreen nodded or replied yes.

  Natalie tried to hide her disappointment. “What are you going to do?”

  “Most of us have already been recruited,” Stephanie answered.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Manpower is short, especially with the majority of people gearing up for war,” said Stephanie. “Based on my experience fighting rotters, they asked if I would train new recruits.”

  “I’m getting medical training,” said Sandy. “Then they’re going to place me with one of the mobile surgical units that will follow the front.”

  “I’ve been assigned to the mayor’s office,” said Josephine. “I’ll be helping restore order in the city once it’s cleared of rotters and reestablish the government here.”

  “And you?” Natalie asked Amy.

  “Logistics. I’ll be driving a truck for the duration.”

  “Doreen?”

  “They asked me to become one of Secretary Fogel’s bodyguards. I guess they liked the way I handled myself at the Deader compound.” Doreen chuckled. “I declined.”

  “Why?” Natalie asked.

  “None of us would have made it this far without you. I like those odds.”

  “What about you?” Natalie asked Ari.

  “I go where you go.”

  “I guess that’s it.” Natalie could not hide the resignation in her voice.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” pleaded Amy. “We love you and respect you. We’ve followed you to Hell and back more times than we care to imagine. We can’t make that trip again.”

  “I understand,” Natalie said, and she meant it.

  “Thank you.” Amy stood and came around the table to hug Natalie. “Good luck. And God bless.”

  Josephine was next, hugging Natalie with her one good arm. “We’ll see each other again.”

  “Take care of yourself,” Stephanie said, embracing Natalie.

  And finally Sandy. “I’m going to miss having you around to always save me.”

  As the Angels left the dining hall, Natalie felt the depression fill her soul. She had known the Angels for a year. She had lived with them, fought with them, and, in many cases, watched them die. Now she had an unsettling certainty that, except for Ari and Doreen, she would never see any of these women again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Robson stood in front of the survivors, who now numbered twenty-five. Last night, Linda had relayed to them his plans for setting out in two days to find a new place to settle down. This morning after breakfast, she came to him and passed along a request to meet with everyone. He assumed it was to answer questions about the resettlement. Upon entering the warehouse, though, he detected an air of hostility.

  Linda walked up and stood beside Robson, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “We want to thank you for coming to talk to us. Last night, I informed every one of your plans for moving on, and some of us had questions we—”

  “Are you going to make us go with you?” asked a tall, thin man who stood at the front of the group.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Are you going to make us go with you when you leave here?”

  “You can’t stay here,” explained Robson. “I promised Simmons we would—”

  “I know that. I’m asking if you’re going to make us go with you.”

  “Please,” Linda snapped at the tall man. “We had a long talk last night about our future. We understand we can’t stay here, and none of us want to take advantage of Simmons’ hospitality. However, not everyone wants to find a new place to stay.”

  “Where would you go?”

  The tall man started to speak when a young brunette cut him off, trying to be more polite. “On the way in here the other night, we saw an abandoned community at the end of the road. We want to live there.”

  “You realize that community was trashed by the same gang that held you prisoner. None of the houses are livable.”

  ”It doesn’t matter,” said the brunette. “We’ll make the necessary repairs. It’s better than how we’ve lived since being captured.”

  “Or being on the road,” added the tall man.

  “You have to understand,” continued the brunette. “We know it’s less than ideal conditions, and that it’ll take a while to get things back in order. We don’t care. We’re too tired, physically and mentally, to do what you’re proposing. We want to start rebuilding our lives now, and that’s the closest place to do it. All we’re asking is that you give us our share of the food and medicine you got from Super Walmart, and then leave us be.”

  “I don’t know,” Robson hesitated. “The odds of you surviving won’t be very good. I have a responsibility to take care of you.”

  “What’s my name?” asked the tall man.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What’s my name?” he asked again. When Robson didn’t answer, he pointed to the brunette. “What about her, then? Other than Linda, do you know any of our names?”

  Robson didn’t answer. He saw where this was heading.

  “I didn’t think so,” spat the tall man. He paused and took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his tone had switched to one of u
nderstanding. “We know it was never your intention to save us, and that you wanted to rescue your friend Wendy.”

  “Windows,” corrected the brunette.

  “You didn’t have to help us,” the tall man continued. “And we’re all grateful that you didn’t leave us to fend for ourselves. You’ve given us a place to stay, and risked your lives to get us supplies. We appreciate that. But we’re not your responsibility. You know that, too.”

  “That’s not true,” Robson replied weakly.

  “It is. There’s nothing wrong with that. And you’re right. Maybe we won’t survive if we try to set ourselves up in that community. Maybe we’ll die of starvation, or be overrun by deaders, or attacked by another gang. We know that. You have your own agenda, your own goals. Don’t ask us to be a part of it. Let us live our own lives.”

  “How many of you want to stay here?” Robson asked.

  Fourteen of the survivors raised their hands.

  “Excuse me,” said a blonde woman near the back of the group. She pointed to the three women seated around her. Robson recognized them as the camp followers he had rescued from inside the compound. “We have our own favor to ask.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We don’t want to go with you either. We also don’t want to stay with the larger group.” She spoke to the tall man. “After what we went through, we don’t feel comfortable with large groups of people. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Robson said. “What do you want?”

  “We want to set out on our own. Give us one of the smaller vehicles and some supplies, and we’ll take care of ourselves.”

  “And the rest of you?” Robson asked.

  The last six survivors looked amongst themselves. Finally, a short black man said, “We’d feel safer with you.”

  “Who do you want to go with?” Robson asked Linda.

  “I’d rather take my chances with you, if that’s okay.”

  Robson said nothing. Everyone stared at him, waiting for a decision. Finally, the blonde woman asked, “So, will you allow us to go our separate ways?”

  Robson knew they were right, although he didn’t want to admit it. While saving these people had been the decent thing to do, expecting them to follow him as their leader was egocentric. He would have a hard enough time keeping his own people alive, let alone a group that didn’t want to be there.

  “Yes, I’ll let you go your own way if you like.”

  A murmur of excitement washed through the survivors, and they talked excitedly amongst themselves. Not wanting to spoil their good mood, Robson stepped back and exited the warehouse, motioning for Linda to follow. Once outside, she said, “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’ll talk to Roberta and DeWitt, and tomorrow you and the other survivors can coordinate the logistics with them.”

  Linda smiled, the first time he had ever seen one from her. “I know a lot of them won’t make it through the next month, but you gave them something they haven’t had in a long time.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hope.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After breakfast, when Denning went off to make his rounds of the perimeter, Windows and Cindy cleaned up the kitchen and set off to feed the chickens and take care of the crops. It had taken them all morning and most of the afternoon, partly because Windows was unfamiliar with the procedures, and partly because Cindy had so much fun Windows didn’t want to take her away from the chickens. Cindy spent over an hour playing and laughing, two things Windows had not seen her do before. She had watched Cindy the entire time, experiencing lightness in her heart, something she had not done in weeks. For the first time since being kidnapped by Price, Windows felt confident and hopeful about the future.

  Not until late morning had it dawned on Windows that she had not seen Denning all day. At first it didn’t concern her. As midafternoon rolled around, her concern became fear. The thought occurred that something bad might have happened. Once finished tending to the crops, she took Cindy and searched the compound, starting at the east side of the perimeter fence near the ranch house and heading north. It took only a few minutes to come across Denning. He was in the ten acres reserved for Walther working on the engine of a combine, the bull standing a few feet away, keeping an eye on his master. Cindy raced ahead and jumped up onto the fence, calling to Walther. The bull strolled over and extended his head, begging to be petted. Windows headed for the fence opposite the combine.

  Denning placed his tools back in the box. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” said Windows. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Right here. It hasn’t been that long.”

  “You’ve been missing all day.”

  Denning turned toward the sun. He raised his right hand vertically to the horizon, placed the left on top of it, then the right on the left, and the left on the right again. “Man, you’re right.”

  “What are you doing?” Windows asked.

  “Telling the time.”

  “How?”

  Denning raised his right hand again. “You hold your palm up with the bottom on the horizon. Each finger represents approximately fifteen minutes, and one hand equals an hour.”

  “You’re fascinating.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It was meant as one. You didn’t muddle through the end of the world like the rest of us. You survived it. You kept on going as if nothing had happened. That’s impressive.”

  Denning laughed. “My wife would have called me paranoid.”

  “Your wife would be very proud of you.”

  Cindy walked over. “Do you farm anymore?”

  “Just the patch of crops for myself.”

  “Then why do you have that thing?” She pointed to the combine.

  “That’s a Massey-Ferguson 850 combine.” Denning pointed to the front end of the machine. “See that device that looks like teeth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s the maize header. When I used to farm, I’d drive this through the fields. The header would scoop up the stalks and feed them into the conveyor. Cylinders inside the combine would grind up the stalks, leaving the grain in a bin and spitting the empty stalks out the back. It made my life a lot easier.”

  “If you don’t farm anymore, why do you need to fix it?”

  “Let me put it this way.” Denning leaned over the fence so he could be closer to Cindy. “Before the dead came back to life, you used to play with toys so you wouldn’t get bored, right?”

  Cindy nodded.

  “Well, that’s my toy. I keep it running so I don’t get bored.”

  “No offense, Mr. Denning,” Cindy said, “but I’d rather have a doll.”

  “I wish I could help you there.”

  “Does it work?” asked Windows.

  “Let’s find out.” Denning closed the cowling to the engine compartment and climbed into the cab. Sliding into the seat, he switched the ignition into the ON position, pressed the start button, and the engine roared to life. Walther jumped to one side and snorted. Upon realizing it was only the combine, he gave the machine a disdainful glance and strode off. Denning shut down the engine and leaned out of the cab. “Success.”

  The two girls clapped.

  Denning climbed down from the cab. He lifted the tool box and passed it across the fence to Windows, who held it for him while he climbed over, pausing for a few seconds on the other side to catch his breath.

  “Now what?” Windows asked.

  “I think it’s time we head back to the house so I can make you gals supper. We’ve got a lot to do in the days ahead.” Denning passed by Cindy and leaned over. “Come on, I’ll race you back.”

  Cindy giggled and darted off, with Denning chasing after her, although he soon fell far behind. No matter. It was great to see her acting like a little girl again. Windows tagged along, lugging the tool box, and hoping this would last a while.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Natalie, Ari, and Doreen sat at their
table in the dining hall comparing notes.

  “Where were you assigned?” Ari asked.

  “An armored unit.” Natalie took a sip of coffee.

  Doreen paused as she raised the fork to her mouth. “You mean tanks?”

  Natalie nodded.

  “What do you know about tanks?”

  “I don’t have to. I talked with the unit commander this morning. Since this isn’t traditional combat, and since they’re short on qualified tank crews, they’re doubling up on functions. The tank commander will also be the driver, and the gunner will be the loader. I’m the observer.”

  “What does that mean?” Ari asked.

  Doreen chuckled. “It means she’s the one who gets out and pushes in case they get stuck.”

  Ari flashed Doreen a stare that could have killed. Doreen did not see it.

  “I’m their eyes,” explained Natalie. “The other two will be stuck inside the tank with a limited view. I’m the one who gets to pop the hatch and see what’s going on around us.”

  Ari scooped up a forkful of beans. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “It shouldn’t be. Rotters can’t climb. Besides, the commander says once the operation begins, we’ll be moving all the time.”

  “Are you nervous?” Doreen asked.

  “None of the tank crews I’ve met seem nervous, so I figure there’s no reason I should be.” Natalie broke her biscuit in half. “What about you two?”

  “We’ve been assigned to a mop up battalion,” said Ari. “There are a couple of dozen cruise ships and naval vessels sitting off the Pacific Coast with almost a hundred thousand troops on them, plus ten thousand civilians who are going to start rebuilding the city once it’s secure. Once the main operation begins, we’re going to land on a twenty-mile front from the Presidio down to Morris Beach, and then push east until we reach the Bay, mopping up any rotters you guys miss. The civvies will come ashore later and start rebuilding the city.”

  “And they’re keeping us together,” Doreen told her. “We’re going ashore near the San Francisco Zoo. They’ll be flying us out to our ship later tonight.”