Stepping over to the Coast Guard rotter, she kicked it in the chest with enough force to roll it off of Emily. Grabbing the stunned woman, Stephanie dragged her to the other side of the deck and released her alongside Josephine, then crossed back over to the rotter. Its mouth frantically bit at the air. Stephanie stood beside it. It grabbed at her pants leg, trying to get a grip on the leather. She glared down at the rotter.
“Eat this.”
Stephanie raised her boot and slammed it into the rotter’s head. Its jaw shattered with a loud crack, although the remnants of its mouth still moved. She stomped on its head repeatedly, each blow more violent, deforming its features and breaking off chunks of skin and bone. Finally, its head exploded across the deck, and the body went limp.
Ari stepped over and touched Stephanie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
Above them, the other three rotters moaned and leaned over the gunwale.
Stephanie walked over to the one-armed rotter and grabbed the axe handle. The blade wouldn’t dislodge. Shoving her foot against its neck, she held the head in place and twisted the handle, cracking the skull. The blade slid free and she handed the axe to Ari.
“Keep an eye on them. I’m going below to disconnect the fuel line so we can get out of here.”
* * *
Sandy and the other Angels reached the end of the corridor when they heard something coming up the stairs. Sandy flashed her light down the opening and the other women aimed their weapons.
“Watch it,” warned Sarah, her hand across her face to blot out the beam. “It’s us.”
“Sorry.” Sandy moved the flashlight’s beam to the side. “Are you okay?”
Sarah nodded. “It sounds like all the action is topside.”
As if on cue, the repetitive booming of a machinegun echoed through the ship. The Angels exchanged glances.
Sandy headed for the open port hatchway on the superstructure and stuck out her head. The gunfire was coming from the forward section, although she couldn’t see who was shooting. Turning aft, she saw the pile of crippled rotters underneath the open hatch, with a few of the less disabled crawling around the main deck. One spotted her and moved in her direction.
“What’s it like?” asked Tiara.
“Not good.” Sandy moved back inside. “We’ve got rotters. I don’t know where or how many. We need to make our way back to the yacht.”
“What about the supplies we found downstairs?” asked Sarah.
“No time for that now. Make sure you’re loaded and locked, and be ready for anything.” Sandy stepped back through the hatch, raised her M-16A2, and put a single round through the crawling rotter’s head. Waving the others on, she made her way aft.
* * *
Stephanie ran back to the yacht’s engine room and checked the fuel gauge. Ninety-seven percent full. That would have to be good enough. Working rapidly, she shut down the pump, disengaged the fuel line, and replaced the cap on the tank. She then made her way topside where she pulled the fuel line from the yacht, dropped it the ocean, and secured the access hatch.
When she reached the main deck, Emily was just regaining consciousness, with Josephine attending to her. The other Angels had dispatched the three rotters by the gunwale, one of which had fallen onto the yacht. With everything under control here, Stephanie made her way into the flying bridge.
“We’re all set.”
Ari switched on the engines. They roared to life and settled down to a dull thrum.
Stephanie stepped to the end of the flying bridge while the Angels climbed on board. When the last one reached the main deck, she called to them, “Cast off the line so we can get out of here.”
“We can’t,” protested Sandy. “Natalie is still on board the cutter.”
* * *
Natalie kept up a continuous barrage against the horde, even though the vibrations from the machinegun rattled every part of her body. The bullets cut through the heads of the living dead like a scythe, blasting them away or ripping them from their bodies. Chunks of body parts flew through the air, generating a cloud of gore. The insects feeding off of the dead flew in every direction, some swarming around Natalie. As the decapitated corpses collapsed to the deck, those to the rear moaned and surged forward, stumbling over the bodies or maneuvering around them. None, however, got to within ten feet of her. A semicircle of living dead formed around the gun mount. When no rotters remained standing, Natalie dropped the angle and swung the machinegun to the right and left, strafing the pile. Bullets thudded into lifeless bodies. She kept up the attack to make certain none of them survived.
The thoughts that flowed through her mind had nothing to do with stopping the rotters, focusing instead on what the zombie apocalypse had taken from her. Her previous life. Her family. Her fiancée. Her innocence. Her home at Fort McClary. And now Mike, the only other man she had ever loved and who she would probably never see again because of that damn vaccine. Everything she had known and loved had been ripped away from her. Twice. In less than a year. By this fucking plague of the living dead and the assholes who took advantage of the outbreak. She hated the latter more than the living dead. The rotters couldn’t control themselves and didn’t know better. Fuck them. Fuck this. Fuck everything. She should just take her fingers off the fucking trigger and let them overwhelm her and end this fucking nightmare.
The sound of her name being called snapped her back to reality. Only then did she notice that the .50 caliber had jammed, yet she still pressed her thumbs down on the trigger mechanism and swept the gun across the pile of dead. She concentrated on the voice.
“Natalie?” yelled Sandy. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“We’re ready. You need help?”
“No. I’ll be right there.”
Stepping away from the gun mount, Natalie waded through the gore spread across the deck. It looked as though the viscera drain of a slaughterhouse had vomited forth its contents. She crossed over to the port side of the pilothouse where there were no corpses, made her way to the stairs, and descended to the main deck. Sandy and Tiara waited by the access ladder. The concern on their faces was evident as she approached.
“Is everything all right?” asked Sandy.
“No. And it won’t be ever again.” Natalie crawled over the gunwale and boarded the yacht. She saw the three rotter corpses sprawled on the deck.
Jesus Christ, is there anything these fuckers won’t ruin?
Ari stepped out of the flying bridge. “We’re all set to go.”
“Good. Get us as far away from here as possible.” Natalie continued below deck without saying another word. By the time Ari pulled away from the cutter and headed back out to sea, Natalie had crashed in her cabin and fallen sound asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Price sat on the edge of his desk and stared at the map taped to his office wall, the one that followed deader activity since that convoy had passed through the area two weeks ago. It confirmed his fears. When those assholes drove through Barnston, they attracted the attention of half the town’s deader population, which followed the convoy west. He already had to send out several hunting parties to clean out the surrounding area. That didn’t even take into consideration the pack of runners that had attacked them just the other day. According to his recon patrols, several hundred of these things prowled the woods and back roads between Barnston and the facility. His people didn’t have much ammunition left, and this would put a severe drain on their resources. They would probably spend the next month making the area safe again, until some other group of assholes fucked it up.
In hindsight, he wished the raiding party he had sent out to track the convoy hadn’t destroyed the compound they found in Maine. From what they told him, it was much nicer and more secure than the one he had here. They could have lived much more comfortably, eliminated the extra mouths to feed by not having to maintain the Line, and been better protected from deaders and
rivals. Plus, it would have been the ideal payback to those fuckers for murdering his people and ruining what he had worked so hard to create. Under the circumstances, he didn’t blame his guys for what they did. He blamed himself. He had sent the raiding party out under Kingston’s command knowing they would go medieval on whoever they came across. If he had put Carter in charge, then saner heads would have prevailed and right now they’d be living in the better compound.
No matter. What was done was done. He had kept them alive this long, and through situations a lot worse than this.
The knocking on the door broke Price’s concentration. “What is it?”
One of the sentries stuck his head in. “You wanted to be told when Carter got back. He’s pulling through the gates now.”
“Thanks.”
By the time Price made it outside, Carter had parked the Hummer H3 in front of the office. Three men climbed out and headed back to their quarters. Carter exited from the driver’s side and tossed the keys over the hood to his boss. Price caught them, aimed them at the vehicle, and pressed the door lock button. The headlights flashed and the alarm beeped twice.
Carter chuckled.
“What?” asked Price.
“You always set that damn alarm.”
“Force of habit.” Price hid his frustration and slid the keys into his pocket. “Did you get rid of the body?”
“We took her a mile down the road and threw her into a drainage ditch.”
“No proper burial?” Price asked sarcastically.
“The bitch took her own life, so that’s good enough for her. Besides, I didn’t want to expose my men too long and get attacked by deaders.”
“Are there a lot out there?”
“No more than usual. Most of the ones we’re finding now are those traveling across the countryside. If we went into the woods to hunt them down, we could clear the area quicker.”
Price shook his head. “I considered that, but it’s too risky. I don’t want any of our guys getting overrun by deaders. We can’t afford to lose any more manpower. It’s safer if we just sit tight and let them come to us. Which reminds me, we’re going to take a chance soon and make a supply run to get more ammunition.”
“Shit. We’ve cleaned out every gun store in a fifty mile radius.”
“It’s a shame that asshole Kingston didn’t loot the compound in Maine before he torched it. I bet they had a good stockpile.”
“Excuse me!”
Price and Carter saw one of the camp followers race up to them. Price knew she worked in the kitchen, but couldn’t remember her name. “I’m in the middle of a conversa—”
“You need to come quickly.”
“Why?”
“There’s trouble in the kitchen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The women had almost finished breakfast detail. Tracey planned the next meal while Lisa and Karen cleaned up, with Lisa washing the utensils in the cooking pot of boiling water while Karen dried them. Cindy sat in the corner amusing herself while Windows prepared a plate for the old man.
A commotion took place by the sliding door. Three latecomers stood at the entrance.
“Breakfast was over two hours ago,” Lisa said.
“We’re not here for breakfast. We’re here for dessert.”
The voice sent a chill down Windows’ spine. It belonged to Kingston, the asshole who had raided Fort McClary and butchered her friends. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him standing in the center of the doorway. Behind him and to the left stood Rogen, the most sadistic son of a bitch in the compound. To the right, Earl stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying to hide the massive bulge between his legs.
“What the hell are you talking about? We don’t have desser—”
Kingston slapped Lisa across the face. “Shut up, you stupid cunt.” He pointed to the corner where Cindy sat. “I’m talking about her.”
Rogen sneered. “Now that her momma’s dead, she’s fair game.”
“Yeah.” Earl massaged the erection through his jeans.
Windows glanced at Cindy, who had curled up in the fetal position, shaking in fear.
Kingston grabbed Lisa by the hair and yanked her close so their faces were only inches apart. “You got a problem with that?”
“N-no.”
“I didn’t think so.” Kingston whipped his hand to the side, throwing Lisa against the wall. She yelped. “Everyone out so we can be alone with the girl.”
Lisa bolted for the exit, hiding her head in shame. Karen went next, pausing long enough to see if Windows would follow. When Windows refused to move, Karen disappeared around the corner.
Kingston took a step toward Windows. “I said, get the fuck out of here.”
“No!” Windows summoned every ounce of courage she could. She knew she would die in the next few minutes, but she would hurt them as much as she could, and maybe take their minds off of Cindy for a few minutes.
Dear God, don’t let me suffer too much.
“What?” The menacing tone in Kingston’s voice made her blood run cold.
“I’m not going to let you hurt Cindy.”
Earl stepped forward. “And just what the fuck do you think you can do to stop—”
Windows kicked Earl in his erection, generating so much pain he couldn’t even cry out. He dropped to his knees, his hands clutching his crotch and tears streaming down his cheeks. Windows kicked out again. This time the heel of her boot caught him in the bottom half of his face. The crack of shattered bones reverberated off the walls, and bits of broken teeth and blood splattered the floor. Earl fell backwards. His gasp for air made a gurgling sound as blood filled his mouth.
Windows didn’t see Kingston throw the punch until it connected with the side of her head. She felt the blow, the bolt of pain shoot through her body, and then everything went fuzzy. She had a vague sense of falling until someone grabbed her by the back of her shirt, lifted her up, and slammed her chest first onto the table. That jarred her back to consciousness. Windows felt one hand wrap around the back of her neck and press her throat into the tabletop, pinning her down. A second grabbed the back of her trousers and started to rip them off.
“Knock it off!” She recognized the voice as Kingston’s.
“You gonna let the bitch get away with what she did to Earl?”
“Fuck that. Do you really want to waste a good load on that skank when we have virgin pussy here?” Kingston stepped over to Cindy and reached out for her. She shoved his hand away and scooted into the corner. Kingston grabbed her by the hair and lifted her into a standing position. The little girl screamed, as much from fear as pain, and began to wail. “Clear the table. And make sure she watches this.”
Rogen lifted Windows off the table, dragged her to the center of the unit, and forced her to her knees. Grabbing her by the top of her head and her jaw, he forcefully turned her face in the direction of the table. When Windows refused to open her eyes, Rogen yanked on her hair, forcing her to watch. Kingston had Cindy bent over the table like Windows herself had been a few moments before. He dropped his trousers and shorts down around his ankles, grabbed the little girl’s pants, and started to pull them down her legs.
Rogen leaned over close to Windows’ ear. “Enjoy the show, whore. We’re gonna tap us some nice virgin pussy. And because you tried to stop us, later tonight we’re gonna gangbang the living fuck out of you.”
Windows could not watch the scene because of the tears welling up in her eyes. At first she thought the blur on her left was unshed tears, until she heard Kingston let out a painful huff. She closed her eyes tight, squeezing out the tears, and reopened them. Meat had raced into the room and body checked Kingston, sending him flying into the wall where he sat against the wall, dazed and confused. The force of the blow had also knocked Cindy onto the floor. She seemed all right and scurried under the table for safety. Meat grabbed the cooking pot of boiling water, grunting as the hot metal seared his skin, and emptied the contents
onto Kingston. Kingston screamed in agony and thrashed around. Windows smirked as she saw the blisters well up on his face and exposed genitals.
“You fat fucking bastard!” Rogen released Windows and charged at Meat. Meat spun around, swinging the cooking pot in a wide arc that connected with Rogen’s head. Windows heard the crunching of bone even over the other sounds in the room. When Rogen collapsed to the floor, his skull had been crushed, with the entire left side of his head caved in.
Meat dropped the cooking pot and flexed his hands, grimacing from the pain. He only concentrated on himself for a second. Crouching down, he reached out to Cindy with a hand raw and covered with blisters.
“Come on, kid.”
Cindy backed against the wall, lifted her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms tightly around her legs.
Rather than get mad, Meat showed uncharacteristic kindness. “It’s okay. No one’s gonna hurt ya anymore. I promise.”
Cindy looked to Windows, and the woman nodded her approval. The girl got on her hands and knees and emerged from under the table, with Meat coaxing her along. When she reached him, Meat placed a hand on her cheek, then jerked it back and shook it to ease the pain. He smiled, not the sadistic grin Windows had grown used to, but one of actual tenderness.
“Everything’ll be okay.”
The three of them all turned to the commotion at the entrance. Lisa ran into the room and gasped. Price and Carter followed a few seconds later.
“Okay. What’s the trou… Jesus fucking Christ.” Price looked around the unit, aghast. “What the fuck happened?”
Meat stood up and wrapped one arm around Cindy’s shoulder, careful to make sure the palm of his hand didn’t touch anything. “These assholes tried raping mah girl.”
“Your girl?” The way Price said it sent an ominous chill down Windows’ spine.
Rotter World (Book 2): Rotter Nation Page 15