Natalie glanced over her shoulder and saw the nearest rotter ten feet away. It wore a sweatshirt whose design had been blotted out by dried blood and sand. Breaking away from the others, she unslung her M-16A2 and aimed. The first bullet struck the rotter’s forehead at a range of less than three feet. The others were too close to aim properly, so she settled for three-round bursts until the bolt stuck open. Two more rotters dropped. The rest kept closing in.
She turned around to see that the police boat had moved another few feet down the sandbar. “Stephanie, Sandy. Spot me.”
The two Angels broke away and took up firing position. Natalie joined the others in pushing against the hull. Finally, it slid into the river. Emily maneuvered the boat parallel to the sandbar. The Angels hopped aboard one at a time while Stephanie and Sandy provided covering fire. When they had run out of ammunition, they fell back and climbed on board. Natalie joined them last.
“Let’s get out of here,” she ordered.
“With pleasure, honey.”
“Wait!” yelled Doreen. “Where’s Amy?”
“Where was she last?” Emily asked.
“Down the other end,” answered Stephanie.
“There she is!” shouted Sandy, pointing to the row of abandoned boats.
Amy swung over the side of a tugboat and climbed down the port ladder, dropping onto the deck of a low keeled fishing skip. Emily flipped on the siren to get her attention. Amy stopped and waved. The rotters along the sandbar moaned and waded into the Mississippi. Turning the police boat toward shore, Emily pulled up alongside the rear of the fishing skip. Amy climbed on board, helped by Doreen and Stephanie. Emily steered the boat back into the river and gunned the engine, accelerating away from the sandbar. A few minutes later, she reached the fork where the Missouri River poured into the Mississippi. Turning to port, she entered the mouth of the Missouri.
“Like I said before, a little over four hundred miles to Omaha,” Emily said. “With luck, we should be there by morning.”
Natalie slumped into one of the seats in front of the console.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked.
“No.”
Emily reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll be in Omaha soon, and all this will be behind us.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I usually am.” Emily smiled. “I’ll take it from here. You get some rest. You can spot me later.”
“Sounds good.” Natalie moved to the bow, taking her backpack with her and wedging it between two of the fuel drums to use as a bed. She really wanted to cry, an impossibility in front of the other Angels. So instead she fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Tibor seemed pleased when he showed the others the renovations he had made to the school bus. For the first time since leaving Site R, he appeared to want to be part of the group, which pleased Dravko and Robson. Jennifer, Caslow, Simmons, and Wayans stood with them at the end of the bus, while the others lingered in the background.
“As you requested, I removed the rear door and replaced it with a ramp.” Tibor stood on the ramp and jumped on it to show it would hold weight. He grabbed one of the chains connected to the end of the ramp that stretched to the top of the bus and through a series of loops welded onto the roof before finally disappearing into the driver’s compartment. “You can use these to raise and lower it. The other end is by the driver’s seat.”
Tibor walked up the ramp into the bus and waved for the others to follow. All the seats had been removed. Making his way to the front, he stood by the exit stairs and pointed to a metal cage that had been erected across the interior behind the driver’s seat. It consisted of dozens of rebar spikes running horizontally and vertically, each welded to one another. The space between each bar was only a few inches. A steel door and frame had been welded into the center. Tibor closed the steel door and secured it on the driver’s side by dropping a four-foot long two-by-four into the twin brackets on either side of the door mount.
Tibor stepped back and smiled, immensely proud of his work. “Once you’re up here, nothing can get to you.”
“You’re sure it’ll hold?” asked Dravko.
“Try it.”
Dravko stepped up, wrapped his fingers around the bars, and pulled. The cage did not move. Morphing into his vampire form, he tried again. The cage still did not give. Dravko returned to his human state. “That’s built strong.”
“It needs to be,” Tibor replied with a broad smile. He removed the two-by-four and opened the door, then motioned to the chain dangling from the roof and ending in the cage area. “This is how you control the ramp.”
He grabbed the chain and pulled, raising the ramp until it covered the open doorway in back. A crowbar had been welded to the driver’s side of the cage, with the hooked portion pointing down. Tibor wrapped the chain several times around the hooked end of the crowbar and secured one of the links through the tip. “When not in use, you secure the chain here.”
Caslow stepped forward and pulled on the chain. “It looks difficult to operate. Are you sure it’ll work?”
“It’ll be okay for an hour or so.”
“It’ll do just fine.” Robson patted Tibor on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
“I even reinforced the plow up front. Once you’re up here, you’ll be safe from everything except gunfire.”
“Hopefully no one will be shooting at me.” Robson turned to the others. “We’re all set to go. We do this tomorrow night.”
Everyone nodded halfheartedly, not because they didn’t feel the need to rescue Windows, they all knew the odds. By this time tomorrow night, most of them would probably be dead. One by one, everyone wandered off.
Once alone, Robson made another tour of the exterior of the bus and entered the driver’s compartment. Using the chain, he lowered and raised the ramp to get an idea of how it would handle. He also tested the cage, grabbing it in several places and pulling with all his strength. The welds were solid. He might have a chance after all.
How things had changed. Two weeks ago, he had a cohesive unit that had fought its way to Site R and back, retrieving the Zombie Vaccine and battling hundreds of rotters along the way. Now his team had been whittled down to a ragtag group of survivors. Only Dravko and Tibor remained from the original raiding party, and the latter’s loyalties remained in doubt. He counted Jennifer as one of the original team because she had accompanied them; however, as a scientist she had never been trained for combat. Not that it mattered. He knew she would throw a fit if he tried to leave her behind, even though putting her in harm’s way was irresponsible. Christ, everything about tomorrow night’s raid was irresponsible. DeWitt’s people had been trained to defend Fort McClary, not go into combat against well-armed killers. Simmons and Wayans possessed the skill set, and were placing their lives on the line for someone they had never even met. And Caslow would be next to useless; the best Robson could hope for was that when Caslow got himself killed he didn’t take anyone else with him. They would have stood a much better chance with Natalie and the Angels, even with their shattered morale. Necessity had dictated he send them west with the vaccine, otherwise everything they had endured would have been for nothing. The deaths of Mad Dog, Daytona, Whitehouse, Caylee, and Leila. Of Sultanic and Tatyana. Of those assholes Compton and Thompson. And especially the destruction of their compound and the murder of everyone in it. All of it would have been a fucking waste.
Robson dropped into the driver’s seat and leaned back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe this raid on the gang’s compound was a horrible idea. Ever since coming up with this plan to save Windows, he had asked himself if rescuing her was his true intention, or just an excuse to justify revenge. Or worse, maybe he sought suicide by vendetta, and was selfishly bringing along the others to die with him. That thought had crossed his mind a few times. He didn’t know for certain, which bothered him. He now had an inkling of what Paul had gone through those many months running the com
pound, and had a newfound respect for him.
Someone stepping onto the bus broke him from his reverie, and he saw Jennifer standing on the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I disturb you?”
“No. I was just thinking. I haven’t done a lot of that lately.”
“I don’t know. To me it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing since we found your camp destroyed.”
“Am I doing the right thing, or am I going after Windows for the wrong reason?”
“Let me ask you this.” Jennifer moved up to the main floor. “If they had only destroyed the camp and murdered everyone, and hadn’t kidnapped her, would you be staging this raid?”
Shit, he hadn’t thought of it that way. Robson contemplated the question for a minute. He probably wouldn’t be launching this raid if not for Windows. Getting some payback on the assholes who butchered his friends happened to be a plus. If Windows had been murdered along with the others, Robson would have placed the safety of the survivors over anything else, and would have headed north to put as much distance between them and the rape gang as possible. The realization took a weight off of his shoulders.
Robson made eye contact with Jennifer. “I guess I wouldn’t.”
“And you’re not forcing any of us to accompany you. We’re going because it’s the right thing to do. We’re going because we trust you.” Jennifer moved closer. “I know that if it was me stuck in that camp, you’d come after me.”
“Of course I would.”
Jennifer smiled. She slid one hand behind Robson’s neck and gently pulled him toward her. She kissed him with a tenderness that he had never experienced before, her tongue caressing his lips. An image of Natalie flashed through his mind. Sliding his hands along Jennifer’s arms, he gently pushed her away.
“I can’t do this.”
“I’m not asking you to fall in love with me. I just want you to make love to me.” Robson didn’t protest when Jennifer unzipped him, dropped to her knees in front of him, and pulled out his erection.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The Omaha skyline poked though the morning mist, the glass of its many office buildings reflecting the sun. Natalie found it peaceful, yet surreal. Before the outbreak, she had always enjoyed cities early in the morning when only a handful of people milled about. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, every major city they passed swarmed with rotters. That was why Omaha was unusual. Nothing moved, either living or living dead. It was almost as if the death of mankind had bypassed the Midwest. A part of Natalie wanted to pull onto the nearest bank and spend the rest of her life here. In reality, she knew unimaginable horrors probably waited deep in the city.
Emily decreased the patrol boat’s speed to ten knots. Natalie glanced over at her. “Why are you slowing down?”
“We reached the end of the line.”
Ahead of them, a trestle-style bridge spanned the Missouri River. It looked like the dozens of bridges they had passed underneath since leaving New Orleans, with one major difference: this one was clear of debris. Barricades had been erected on both approaches, preventing any vehicles from crossing. On the western bank, a chain link fence topped with barbed wire ran for two hundred feet along the river on either side of the bridge before turning at a ninety-degree angle toward the city. Plywood boards had been attached to the structure to form signs. The one on the western approach said BELLEVUE BRIDGE/MISSION AVE. The one on the eastern approach read THIS WAY TO SAFETY accompanied by an arrow pointing to a rope ladder that dangled from the central span along the central support column.
“What do you think?” Emily asked. “Should we stop?”
Natalie didn’t know what to do. Nothing indicated that this was a check-in point for the government-in-exile. She would hate to walk into a trap at this late stage. Then again, if this proved legitimate and they passed it by, they could wind up missing their opportunity to find a safe refuge. She opted to play it safe.
“Stephanie, wake up the rest of the Angels,” Natalie said. “We’re going to check this out.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, the police boat pulled up alongside the bridge’s central support. Emily remained at the controls, ready to escape the area if necessary. Amy, Sarah, and Doreen joined Natalie while the other Angels stayed on board covering the two banks and the approaches to the bridge.
While Doreen provided cover, Amy and Sarah held the rope ladder for Natalie. She climbed quickly, expecting at any moment for a bullet to slam into her. Nothing happened. When she reached the central span, she swung her legs over the guard rail, unslung her M-16A2, and scanned the area. No sign of danger. Hell, no sign of anything. Leaning over the guardrail, she waved for the others to climb up, and crouched into a firing position by the ladder. After the other three girls joined her, they formed a semi-circle. Natalie directed Doreen and Amy to the eastern side of the bridge, and she and Sarah made their way in the opposite direction toward the barricade at the western approach.
They were fifty feet from the barricade when a male voice called out. “Stop right there. Slowly place your weapons on the ground and raise your hands above your head.”
Natalie veered to the left and slid up beside a steel girder, then crouched and aimed toward the barricade. Sarah jumped over the pedestrian walkway and stooped behind the rail. On the opposite side of the bridge, Doreen and Amy dropped prone and aimed their M-16A2s at the barricade.
“I said, place your weapons on the ground and raise your hands above your head. I promise, no harm will come to you.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Natalie yelled.
“Ma’am, this is your last chance. Drop your weapons or we will be forced to open fire.”
“Okay. We’re putting them down.” Natalie stood and raised the M-16A2 over her head. She took three steps from the girder, crouched down, and placed the automatic rifle on the span in front of her. Dropping to her knees, she lifted her hands above her head. The other Angels stared at her incredulous, but went along.
Once the women had surrendered, two soldiers in camouflaged uniforms emerged from behind the barricade. The larger of the two, a black man, stayed partially covered and trained his weapon on the women. The other approached, his M-16A2 raised and ready to fire. As he neared, Natalie noticed the name LOPEZ stitched to his breastplate.
“Please unzip your jackets, slowly and with one hand. Do not make any sudden movements or reach under your jackets. Is that clear?”
The Angels obeyed. Lopez moved closer. He paused a few feet from Natalie. “I’m going to frisk each of you for weapons. Do not resist or make any sudden movements. Understood?”
Each of them nodded, and Lopez moved in. His search was thorough but unobtrusive, and he didn’t inappropriately touch any of them. When finished, Lopez stood back, his weapon now pointed toward the ground. “Sorry, about that. You can stand up.”
“Thanks.” Natalie got off her knees. “What about our weapons?”
“You can keep them for now. Remove the magazines and make certain a round isn’t chambered. Then have the rest of your party in the boat come on up, with their weapons unloaded.”
Fifteen minutes later, all the Angels stood on the bridge and had been searched. While Lopez seemed relaxed throughout the procedure, Natalie noticed his friend never took his weapon off of them.
When they finished, Lopez asked, “I’m curious. Why did you back down so easily?”
“I knew I wasn’t in danger when you called me ‘ma’am’.”
Lopez looked confused. “Why?”
“I figured you were military or law enforcement. Most others we run into who are a danger call me ‘bitch’ or ‘whore’.”
Lopez laughed. Even the black soldier smiled and pointed his weapon away from them.
“What brings you ladies to Omaha?” Lopez asked.
Natalie pointed to the briefcase Ari held. “We have the Revenant Vaccine that Dr. Compton created.”
“Dr. Compton?
”
“That’s the scientist on the East Coast,” said the black soldier. “He’s the one who supposedly had developed a cure for the zombie outbreak.”
“He succeeded. With this, none of us will ever have to worry about being turned if we’re bitten.”
“Are you serious?” Lopez asked. “It really works?”
Natalie nodded. “We’re here to give it to the President.”
Lopez snorted. “In that case, ma’am, you’re screwed.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Lopez didn’t elaborate. He and the other soldier, who had introduced himself as Private Carver Duncan, escorted the Angels back to Offutt Air Force Base to meet the commanding officer. They approached the facility after walking south along the river and turning west, which meant that the group had to traverse the entire length of the runway.
Two things struck Natalie. First, the diversity of aircraft lined up on either side of the runway and scattered around the tarmac: Air Force One; Air Force Two; Marine One; several dozen military aircraft, a score of private jets; an Airbus 310 with the palm tree and crossed swords logo of Saudia on the tail. These planes had been left unattended for months. Many had flattened tires, a few had engine cowlings or access doors left open, having been scavenged for parts. All of the aircraft, even Air Force One, had months of soot and grime covering their wings and fuselage. It reminded her of an outdoor air museum where no one maintained the exhibits.
Second, she noticed the lack of activity around the air base. Other than themselves, Natalie saw no one else. With so many aircraft crowded onto the field, she figured there would at least be maintenance personnel servicing them. She reasoned that the lack of crews explained the poor condition of the aircraft. Only when they reached the far end of the runway did she see a lone figure in a leather jacket. He walked around a C-130 military transport that stood separate from the other aircraft and sat between two hangers set fifteen hundred feet from the runway.
Rotter World (Book 2): Rotter Nation Page 22