Rotter Apocalypse

by Scott M. Baker

  “I wouldn’t,” said Tibor. “I lived among humans long enough to realize that not everyone is strong enough to be immortal.”

  “Exactly.” Vladimir shoved Gabrielle aside and leaned toward to Tibor. “That’s why I gave the humans a choice, and why I only accepted into the coven those who asked to be immortal. Our bloodline has been diluted by bringing in those who were weak in mind and body. We’ve polluted our species to the point that our leaders thought releasing the Zombie Virus would be beneficial.”

  “Those assholes nearly killed us all,” Tibor agreed.

  “Which is why, when I decided to rebuild the coven, I swore I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I wanted to ensure the purity of our species going into the future. Only those who asked to be immortal, and who I thought were worthy of being immortal, were allowed to join.” Vladimir pointed to the fireplace where a tall vampire in a leather greatcoat and blond crew cut, and who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, curled up by the hearth. “That’s Miles. He was part of a biker gang holed up in a bar outside of Concord that had been overrun by rotters. I found him ten miles away after his bike spun out and tossed him in a ditch, breaking his leg and shattering several ribs. He begged me to turn him so he could get some payback on the rotters. Good thing I did. He’s the toughest son of a bitch in the coven.”

  Vladimir motioned to the far end of the room where three other vampires slept, one propped up in the corner and the other two at his feet. They each appeared to be in their early twenties and wore street clothes. “Those three are Jonathon, Stamos, and Sean. I came across them in a Stop & Shop in Hanover. There were eighteen people hiding inside, and they had a pretty good set-up until I came along. The coven ate well that night. Me, Gabrielle, and Miles overpowered the guards and drained them, and then rounded up the others. We spent over a week there feeding. Several of the survivors begged to join us.”

  “They were the ones who begged?” Tibor asked.

  Vladimir shook his head. “No. The ones who begged were terrified for their lives. I would never have let them in. Those three were the last to die. I taunted them, telling them that if they wanted to be immortal all they had to do was ask. Jonathon said he would love to be immortal, but would rather die than beg for it. The other two agreed. I liked their spunk, so I turned them. They’ve been loyal.”

  “What about her?” Tibor motioned toward a female spread out by the sliding doors.

  “That’s Mia. I found her collapsed by the side of a road, almost dead from hunger and dehydration. She wasn’t even worth feeding from. She begged me not to let her die, and promised eternal loyalty if I saved her. So I did.”

  Vladimir looked to the opposite corner where a young brunette with bobbed hair wearing a knee-length skirt cuddled against a blond teenager in a flannel shirt and denim jacket. “He’s Lewis, the only one sired against his will. When we attacked him in Barre, Lewis overpowered and staked one my vampires. There was no way I was going to kill someone who fought that tough, so while Miles and Stamos held him down, I turned him. His girlfriend Tamara begged me to do the same to her so they could be together, so I obliged.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dravko interrupted. “You said that Lewis killed one of your vampires?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How big was your coven?”

  “At one time it numbered fifteen,” answered Vladimir. “Lewis killed one. Another was taken down by some humans we had captured who escaped. That’s why I hobble them now. Three more died when the coven was swarmed by rotters in the White Mountains. And the last committed suicide.”

  “You’re shitting me,” said Tibor.

  “She was a punk seventeen year old. I don’t even remember her name. When the coven found her, she threatened us with an axe. I gave her a choice: die quickly or join us. She chose the latter. Two weeks later, she left the group in the middle of the day and walked out into the sunlight.”

  “First time I ever heard of that happening,” said Tibor.

  “It makes sense, though. Every time a master sired one of us, they would mentor us in how to be a vampire, and would teach us what we needed to know. Now we turn a vampire and hope he or she survives the next few weeks. It’s why I moved here.” Vladimir sat back and gestured to the farm house around him. “The coven was losing vampires almost as fast as we could create them. I figured there were fewer rotters, so our chances of survival would be greater. A lot of humans thought the same way, so we’ve not gone hungry. I wish I could say the same for you. You two look terrible.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Tibor gave Dravko a disapproving stare.

  Vladimir settled into the love seat and drew Gabrielle close to him. Dravko noticed how comfortable Vladimir handled not only being in charge, but in being able to manipulate the situation. “What happened to the coven after I was expelled?”

  Tibor spent the next hour relating what had transpired since that first incident between humans and vampires at the camp that had resulted in Vladimir being banished, with the emphasis on the last month. Tibor detailed the journey down to Site R and how Sultanic had been bitten while trying to save Whitehouse from rotters; how Dr. Compton had wanted to exterminate the vampires inside Site R and released four hundred rotters on Robson’s team when he refused to go along; how Tatyana’s human boyfriend infected her with the virus, forcing Tibor to kill her; how they had gotten back from Site R only to find the camp destroyed by Price’s gang and Elena and the others murdered; and the attack on the gang’s compound. Vladimir said nothing, allowing Tibor to tell the story. Only when he was done did the Master speak.

  “I mourn for Sultanic and Tatyana. It’s a shame they died because of humans.”

  “What about Elena?” Dravko asked.

  “She got what she deserved.” When Dravko tried to protest, Vladimir held up a hand to cut him off. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. She was the Mistress of our coven and I obeyed her. The fact remains, she never should have joined forces with the humans. I’ve proven we can survive on our own. When you lie with dogs you can’t complain if you get fleas.”

  Tibor nodded his assent. Dravko remained silent.

  “So let me get this straight,” Vladimir said to Tibor. “When Compton developed the Zombie Virus vaccine, it was only effective on humans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he had used human blood to create the vaccine,” added Dravko. “Our vampire blood is different, so the strain of Zombie Virus used in the vaccine would have infected us.”

  “Did he offer to create a vampire-effective vaccine?” The tone of Vladimir’s voice indicated he already knew the answer to the question.

  Dravko lowered his head. “No.”

  “Fuck,” Tibor chimed in. “The asshole wanted to use it on us and then, once we were infected, put us down.”

  “This is what I’m talking about.” Vladimir slammed his palm down on the love seat’s arm for emphasis. “The humans created a vaccine to help them survive the rotter apocalypse, and engineered the vaccine so it’s lethal to vampires. The humans are going to use this to enact genocide on us and blame it on the outbreak. We never should have trusted them.”

  “That’s not true,” Dravko protested. “Robson’s people have been good to us.”

  “Wasn’t it O’Bannon who sided with Compton and used the vaccine to infect Tatyana?” Vladimir asked with a melodramatic flair.

  “Robson stopped him.”

  “No!” shouted Tibor. “I stopped him. Robson was too busy trying to retrieve the vaccine.”

  Dravko shook his head. “Robson has treated us well.”

  “Has he?” Vladimir pushed Gabrielle aside again and leaned closer to Dravko. He spoke like a professor leading a student to realize something he knew already. “Has he ever allowed you to go after a meal like the hunters you are, or have you only been allowed to feed off of animals or humans at their discretion?”

  “We hunted members of the rape gang.”

  Vladimir raised a
n eyebrow. “With his permission or by instinct?”

  Dravko said nothing.

  “I thought so. Tell me, after leaving Site R, did Robson feed you regularly?”

  “It was difficult. The blood supply at camp had been destroyed. And once he had decided on going after the gang….”

  “Once Robson decided to go after the gang,” Vladimir surmised, “saving his precious human was his top priority rather than making sure all the members of his team were fed. Tibor, didn’t he make a supply run to a Walmart to get supplies for his people?”

  “Yes,” Tibor hissed the word like a snake.

  “Did he offer to feed you? Did anyone volunteer to give you blood?”

  “No.”

  Vladimir turned back to Dravko. “Robson may have treated you well, but he saw you as nothing more than pets, as attack dogs to be used when needed. Don’t get me wrong. Most humans like their pets and treat them well. They don’t treat them the same as other humans.”

  “That’s not fair,” Dravko said halfheartedly, no longer sure if he believed it himself.

  “It is fair because it’s true. If you and Tibor were truly part of his group, he would have put your needs before those of humans he had never met. He didn’t. Humans come first to him. He has shown that time and time again.”

  Tibor’s eyes were pleading for his friend to accept the truth. “I’ve been telling this to you for weeks. You know I’m right.”

  “No one is blaming you for any of this,” said Vladimir. “Once Elena was dead, you did what was best for the coven under the circumstances. Now things have changed. It’s not the two of you anymore. I’ve started a new coven. I’m growing the vampire population again. And this time we won’t take second place.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tibor.

  “Releasing the Zombie Virus was a stupid move because it nearly wiped us out. It also nearly wiped out the humans. Both species are going to try and rebuild, except this time they don’t have the numerical advantage they’ve had over us for the past two millennia. We finally have an opportunity to increase our numbers so that vampires rival humans as the dominant species.”

  “If you don’t count the rotters,” said Dravko.

  “They won’t be around forever. At some point the humans will regroup and fight back, and will take care of them for us. Once they do, they’ll be in for a surprise.”

  “What about them?” Tibor used his head to gesture toward the barn. Dravko picked up on the fact that he didn’t use Robson’s name.

  “They’ll be given the same choice the others have. They can join us or they can feed us.”

  “Do you think they will?” asked Tibor.

  “From what you’ve told me, most of them will be happy to put an end to their suffering, one way or another.”

  “What about Robson?” Dravko asked. “Does he get to make the choice?”

  Vladimir shook his head. “I have something special planned for him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ari stood in the open hatch of the M1127 Stryker Reconnaissance Vehicle while the convoy made its way down Route 101. Doreen and half the squad sat comfortably inside, with Mesle and the others in one of the accompanying vehicles. Every time the Stryker swerved to avoid an abandoned car, she reached out to steady herself on the mount of the M2 .50 caliber machinegun. It reminded her of standing in an open sunroof, only your typical car wasn’t followed by three more Strykers and ten two-and-a-half-ton trucks loaded with troops.

  The Battle of San Francisco had played out much easier than anyone had anticipated thanks to the use of the RCZs. Despite isolated incidents like Westwood Highlands, the ten-mile-long line of troops had reached the Bay by dusk, clearing the streets of rotters. This morning, they were redeployed across the peninsula in a line running southeast from Pacifica on the West Coast to north of Burlingame on the east. Intelligence indicated that most of the locals not trapped inside San Francisco had escaped south during the outbreak, leaving much of the peninsula abandoned, which meant fewer humans had remained behind to become the living dead. Since the eastern corridor would be pushing through cities, the government-in-exile had provided them with ten Abrams tanks, sixteen Strykers, fifteen M3 Bradley Fighting Vehicles, three mobile M270 Multiple Launch Rocket Systems, and fifty troop transports. The initial push had run into minimal activity, with various units encountering nothing more significant than stray rotters. By the time the line had reached the southern outskirts of San Mateo, the Revenant Body Count had numbered less than two thousand, so command decided to take advantage of the lack of resistance. The mechanized units were divided into four groups, three recon units of four Strykers and ten transports each to travel south along the three major highways running down the peninsula, and the fourth group, which remained behind as a reserve. The ground troops would continue their block-by-block advance on foot. Mesle’s squad had been assigned to Tango Alpha, the recon unit moving down Route 101, the easternmost of the three highways. They had been on the road for close to an hour and had run into no more than a hundred rotters.

  Ari felt someone pull on her pants leg. Doreen stood beneath her and lowered the microphone of her CVC to her mouth. “How far do you think we’ve traveled?”

  “We’ve covered thirty miles, give or take. We passed Moffett Airfield in Sunnyvale a few minutes ago. San Jose is about five miles ahead of us.”

  “Can the chatter,” said Lieutenant Barnes, the commander for the Tango Alpha recce unit in the Stryker ahead of them. “Keep this line open for official communications.”

  Doreen waved and stepped back to her seat.

  Ari scanned the area for rotter activity. The column passed through a residential neighborhood, with an AMC movie theater off to their left. She thought the number of rotters was increasing, although not by enough to pose any threat. A voice over the CVC headphones interrupted her thoughts. She recognized it as the commander of the Stryker scouting ahead of the column.

  “Tango Leader, Tango Alpha Two.”

  “Tango Alpha Two, Tango Leader,” responded Colonel Allen from his Bradley Battle Command Vehicle (BCV) back with the main column.

  “Tango Leader, we have reached Objective Blue. We got slowed down by abandoned vehicles. Hostile activity is minimal.”

  “Tango Alpha Two, Tango Lea—”

  “Jesus Christ!” The expletive came from Reynolds, the driver in the Stryker behind hers. “We have heavy hostile activity on our right.”

  Ari shifted her position in the hatch to get a better view. The column approached the northern end of Mineta San Jose International Airport, which sat a few hundred feet from the highway. Tens of thousands of rotters stretched the length of the runway. Those closest to the column clutched at the surrounding chain link fence, pulling at it to get to them. The commotion spread like a wave, and soon every one of the living dead inside the perimeter was swarming the fence. Rotters also approached from the neighborhood to their left and from farther down the highway. A quick estimation put their number in the thousands, all converging on the Strykers. They’d be overrun within minutes.

  “Tango Leader, Tango Alpha One,” Barnes said into the CVC. “We have heavy contact with hostiles at our nine, twelve, and three o’clock positions.”

  “Tango Leader copies. Tango Alpha One, set up a defensive line to cover the withdrawal of your exposed troops.”

  “Tango Alpha One copies.”

  The Strykers ground to a halt in a line abreast across Route 101 with ten feet between each vehicle. The transports pulled into three-point turns and headed west. By now, the rotters had approached to within fifty feet of the recce unit. Ari wished she was on one of those retreating trucks.

  “All Alphas, Tango Alpha One. Line up your shots and make them count. Fire on my command.”

  Rotating the machinegun to face forward, Ari lowered the weapon and aimed at the approaching horde, which had closed to within thirty feet.

  She lined up her site on a rotter with no arms
draped in the remnants of a flight attendant’s uniform.

  Twenty feet.

  “Fire!” Barnes ordered.

  Four .50 caliber machineguns fired simultaneously in short, well-aimed bursts. Ari and the others had become so familiar with close-in contact with the living dead that no one paid attention to the stench or the swarms of insects that hovered around them, concentrating instead on making each shot count. Each time the gunners pulled the trigger, they tore the rotters apart. Limbs were dismembered, torsos shredded, heads shattered. A pool of blood and body parts formed around the Strykers. However, the numbers were stacked against them. For each rotter taken down, dozens more filled the gap. The concentrated fire only slowed their advance.

  Reynolds’ voice came over the CVC again. “Tango Alpha One, Tango Alpha Three. Things are about to go FUBAR on our right.”

  Inside the airport, the mass of living dead pushed against the perimeter fence, their weight bending the supports at a forty-five-degree angle. The entire structure would soon give way, releasing a massive horde to join the melee.

  “Tango Leader, Tango Alpha One. We have a situation developing inside the airport.”

  “Tango Alpha One, I’m already on it. We should have incoming rockets from Tango Charlie Five in a few minutes.”

  “Tango Alpha One copies.”

  Rotters had begun to outflank both ends of the line of Strykers. “Lieutenant, we’re about to be swarmed.”

  “Copy that,” said Barnes. “All Alphas, Tango Alpha One. Fall back three hundred feet. Stop at a ninety-degree angle to the right so the 7.62s can engage.”

  As instructed, the four Strykers pulled back and swerved so their right flanks faced the horde, allowing a soldier to open one of the hatches and arm the rear-mounted 7.62mm machinegun. A kill zone had formed, and the living dead surged forward into a storm of concentrated fire. The machinegun fire took its toll on the rotters, churning them in a mist of blood and gore. A barrier of corpses formed in front of the horde, tripping many of those surging ahead and creating an obstacle for those behind. The advance slowed. The weight of the rotters to the rear pushed forward, and the barrier of human detritus could only hold them back for so long. It reminded Ari of the videos she had seen of the massive tsunamis that struck the Japanese coast years ago where retaining walls held back the water only so long before the tidal waves flooded over the tops and swept away coastal towns. It would be the same thing here, except this time it would be a tidal wave of living dead.