Simmons relayed the message. Robson checked the back door to the building. As he a.s.sumed, it was locked. He moved down to the loading dock and grasped the handle to the sliding doors, but they were locked, too. "s.h.i.t."

"What's wrong?" Simmons asked.

"All the doors are bolted from the inside. We have no way of getting in without making so much noise we'll tip off whoever is out front."

"We could circle around." Simmons moved to the edge of the building and peered around the corner. "Isaac says the guy is inside the building. If we stick close to the walls, we could be on top of him before he knew we were there."

"Let's do it."

The two men moved along the right side of the building staying as close to the wall as possible. Every few seconds, Simmons checked behind him to make sure they weren't about to be ambushed. When they reached the end, Robson peered around the corner. The exit doors were fifty feet down. From this vantage point, they could not see the intruder, which meant he could not see them.

Robson grabbed his microphone and whispered. "Isaac, we're about to move toward the doors. I'm going to stop ten feet away. When I wave, fire one round through the gla.s.s over the guy's head."

"Roger that."

Both men made their way along the front of the building, their backs pressed against the wall. Robson held his AA-12 beside him, and Simmons had his Colt .45 drawn and ready. When ten feet from the exit door, Robson waved.

A shot rang out. The gla.s.s door shattered, and a m.u.f.fled curse came from inside the building. Robson charged, with Simmons right behind. The two centered themselves in the doorway, their weapons aimed. A middle-aged man in jeans and a gray sweatshirt lay on the floor, shaking his head and brushing off shards of gla.s.s. When he saw the two men standing in front of him, he gasped and tried to get to his feet.

Robson stepped toward him. "Move and you're a dead man."

The man's gaze darted between Robson and Simmons. He raised his arms, his hands shaking as he lifted them above his head. "Come on, guys. Don't hurt me. Please!"

Simmons leaned closer to Robson. "I don't think this guy is with the rape gang."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The entire group sat around the rectory's dining room table, all eyes focused on their guest from Home Depot who sat at the far end. "Guest" was the best word to describe him, because this guy posed no danger. He possessed no survival skills. When they confiscated his Smith and Wesson .38 Special and his Heckler and Koch 223 semi-automatic rifle, he had the safety locked on the former and had not chambered a round in the latter. He had barricaded all but one entrance into the store, and had set up his safe room in a corner office with no other way out, trapping himself inside Home Depot. He didn't even have a bug-out bag in case he had to make a run for it. Robson figured this guy presented more of a danger to himself than to them or the rotters.

Robson knew nothing about him. He was middle-aged and of average height and looks. His demeanor reeked of cowardice, from the constantly hunched shoulders, the inability to make eye contact, and his avoidance of confrontation. They had not talked to him on the way back to Gilmanton, and the presence of Wayans seated beside him in the Humvee kept their guest silent and sullen. After sunset, when Dravko and Tibor joined them, he freaked out. He perked up only after they offered him something hot to eat. Their guest wolfed down his food as if he had not eaten in weeks, yet he still hadn't spoken. Robson pitied the guy. If he had been out here this long, he had definitely seen some heavy s.h.i.t. Unlike the rest of them, he was not prepared psychologically to process what he had experienced.

Robson leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I know you're hungry, friend. But can you slow down long enough to tell us your name?"

Their guest stopped eating, his cheeks still stuffed with food. His eyes darted back and forth between the various people seated at the table.

Robson sighed. "If we were going to hurt you, do you think we'd feed you first?"

"You might if you were fattening me up for them." Their guest focused his gaze on the vampires.

Dravko rolled his eyes. Tibor sneered, showing fangs.

When no one responded, their guest put down his knife and fork and swallowed. "I'm Tom Caslow. From Salt Lake City."

"How did you make it all the way to the East Coast?" asked Simmons.

"My family and I were vacationing in New England when the outbreak hit. You know, the Freedom Trail and stuff like that. We were in Salem when we first heard about the virus. In the Witch Museum, of all places. We spent the next two days in the hotel room watching the news, hoping it would all blow over. It didn't. So we headed to Logan to catch a flight out. By then the city had been quarantined. We had no idea what to do. Thank G.o.d we ran into Nick, a retired cop, who took us with him to Nahant. That's where he lived. Have you ever been there? It's an island off the coast of Ma.s.sachusetts connected to the mainland by a causeway. Nick said he and some of his friends had closed the causeway and isolated the island, and would ride out the outbreak from there. He seemed trustworthy, so we followed him. It's a good thing we did, or who knows what would have happened?"

"Slow down," said Robson, holding up his hand to cut off Caslow. Had they missed someone? "Who's 'we'?"

"Me, my wife, Debra, and my daughter, Cindy. The three of us had come to New England because we wanted something different and exciting." Tom forced a chuckle. "I guess we got our wish."

"If you were holed up in an isolated community, how did you wind up here?" asked Robson.

"Nahant saved our lives. Nick and the other retired cops maintained order and controlled who would be allowed in to the community. Because the only access was the causeway, they kept out anyone who they thought might be trouble. Too bad it didn't stop the dead."

"They overwhelmed the causeway?" asked Simmons.

Caslow shook his head. "We would have been prepared for that. None of us ever thought that those things could walk underwater, though I guess it makes sense since they don't breathe. One night, about six weeks ago, several thousand came ash.o.r.e near the southern tip of the island. No one expected it, and the living dead overran Nahant in a few hours. Practically no one made it out. We wouldn't have either if Nick and some of his friends hadn't helped us. They shoved us into a pair of Dodge Rams, crashed their own barricades, and got us off the island. We headed inland, trying to avoid the heavily populated coasts."

"What happened to Nick?" asked Simmons.

"Our group got ambushed a few miles north of Concord. We had stopped to refuel when a swarm of the dead came out of nowhere and overran our vehicles before we could get to them. I grabbed the only car we could find. A Toyota Corolla. Nick and the others tried to fight them off and were swarmed. We barely got away with our lives."

"Where's your family?" asked Jennifer.

For the first time, Caslow didn't ramble. His body trembled. He closed his eyes tight, fighting back tears. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued. "I remembered what Nick had said about being safer where there were fewer people, so we headed west. Everything was fine until we reached this area. We had nothing other than the rifle and the revolver Nick gave me. All the surrounding towns had been stripped clean. We were driving around when we pa.s.sed this storage facility that looked occupied. I wanted to stop and ask for help until I saw all these people tied to the ground out front."

"The rape gang," said Robson. The others around the table nodded.

"You know them?'

"We've had dealings with them before."

"Then I'm surprised you're still here." Caslow sighed. "I got out of there as fast as I could. Drove for about an hour and pulled off near one of those convenience store-gas station combos. I was inside checking for food when two military Humvees pulled into the parking lot. They dragged Debra and Cindy out of the car and took them away. When I realized what happened, I followed them back to the storage facility. That happened about a month ago."

"And you just friggin' left them there?" Wayans said with such anger that it startled Robson.

"Of course not!" Caslow's eyes darted to the others, begging for approval. "I've spent almost every day for the last month watching that compound and trying to come up with a way to get them out. Have you seen that place?"

"Yes," answered Robson.

"Then you know it's impossible to get in, especially for one guy." Caslow glared at Wayans. "Why would you think I just left my wife and daughter there?"

"Because you did nothing to save them." This time Jennifer spoke, and her words dripped with contempt.

"W-what could I d-do?" Caslow stammered. "I have no clue what I'm doing in a situation like this. I'm not a survivalist. I never even served in the military. I don't even own a gun. I'm an elementary school teacher."

"You're a man," said Jennifer. "You should have defended your family."

"I-If I had tried, the gang would have killed me. Then where would my family be?"

"The same place they are now. But at least they would know their husband and father cared enough to fight for them and not just leave them with a rape gang."

Caslow stared at Jennifer, stunned. At first, Robson thought he was shocked by the harshness of her tone and the accusation against him, until he spoke.

"D-did you say 'rape gang'?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, G.o.d." Caslow dropped his head and sobbed.

Robson glanced around the room and noticed that no one showed sympathy toward him. Jennifer stood up and stormed into the kitchen. Wayans glared, shaking his head in disgust. Robson was the only one who had even a shred of empathy toward Caslow. Maybe because he couldn't get Susan out of his mind, how they had been attacked by a horde of swarmers in traffic outside of Newington, and how he had left her when the living dead overtook them because she couldn't run fast enough.

"What do we do with him?" Simmons asked.

"I say we send him on his way first thing in the morning," suggested Frakes.

"Why wait that long?" asked Wayans.

DeWitt cleared his throat. "We should at least wait until sunrise to give him a fighting chance."

"f.u.c.k him," snapped Roberta. "He doesn't deserve one after what he did to his wife and kid."

Caslow raised his head. "I'm right here, you know."

The glare that both Wayans and Roberta shot his way cowed Caslow.

Robson wondered how the others would react if they knew he had once displayed a similar lack of courage. "I vote to keep him around a while longer."

"Are you friggin' nuts?" Wayans blurted out.

Simmons agreed, though he was more reserved. "I agree. This guy's a coward, has no useful skills, and would be nothing but a drain on resources. He's of no use to us."

"Actually, he has something very valuable. Information. If what he says is true, he's been spying on their compound for almost a month-"

"It's true," Caslow said animatedly, trying to curry favor.

Robson flashed him an expression that warned him not to press his luck. "He probably knows things about that compound and how the gang operates that could be of use to us. As long as he cooperates, I think we should keep him around."

"Makes sense," agreed Simmons.

Wayans begrudgingly nodded his approval.

Tibor stood up and stormed out of the dining room, startling everyone at the table. Dravko watched his fellow vampire leave, and then shrugged his shoulders in confusion. He finally said, "We're in."

Everyone else concurred, except for Jennifer, who had returned from the kitchen. She stared out the window into the dark, her back to the others and her arms folded across her chest. After a few seconds of silence, Robson prodded, "Is it unanimous?"

"I won't object as long as I have to have nothing to do with him," Jennifer said, her eyes filled with contempt for Caslow. "To be honest, though, I don't trust the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. If I have one bullet left and it's between him and a rotter, I'll shoot him in the leg and leave him behind."

"Deal."

"Thank you all." Caslow sniffed. "I won't let you down."

"You better not." Robson stood, picked up his mug, and headed for the kitchen. He paused by Caslow's chair. "I'm going to get some more coffee. When I come back, you're going tell me everything you know about that compound."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Dravko found Tibor at the construction company. The vampire had pulled an acetylene torch and some discarded sheets of metal over to one of the Humvees. As Dravko approached, Tibor was welding something to the windshield.

"What are you doing?" he yelled to be heard over the noise.

When he saw his friend, Tibor shut off the torch. "I'm adding metal panels that can be closed during the daytime and block out the sunlight."

"Why? We already have the Ryder for that."

"We needed the Ryder when we had five of us. Now you and I are all that's left, so the Hummer is more than enough."

Dravko sat inside the cab and studied the additions. Tibor had removed the windshield and replaced it with a one-inch plate of metal welded to the frame along all four edges. Two slits were burned out of the surface in front of the driver's and pa.s.senger's seats, each two feet wide and one foot tall. Sliding metal hatches had been attached to runners on the interior surface of the plate, large enough to cover the openings, and with the ability to be bolted into place from inside. Once in the Humvee, he and Tibor would be the only ones who could control the sliding hatches.

"This is impressive."

"Thanks." Tibor nodded. "I plan to do the same thing to the side windows, and to add deadbolts to the turret hatch and rear panel."

"What made you think of this?"

"When we ditched the school bus back in Portland, I realized we didn't need the truck anymore. It keeps us confined to the main roads and limits where we can go."

Dravko climbed out of the Humvee. "By us do you mean the group, or you and me?"

"That's up to you." Tibor turned away and picked up the acetylene torch. "You know how I feel about the humans."

"Is that why you stormed out of dinner?"

Tibor spun around to confront his friend, failing to control his anger. "I stormed out because I am fed up with the way Robson disrespects us."

"Robson has always treated us with respect."

"He accepts us. He doesn't respect us!"

"What's the difference?"

"You really don't see the difference." Tibor's tone softened. "As much as I disagreed in the beginning with this alliance with the humans, it worked because Paul and Elena believed in it and did everything in their power to make it work. Each of them risked alienating their own kind to show the other side that they believed in it. That's what I mean by respect."