Carter walked over to Kingston and examined him, and then shook his head. "Kingston is pretty bad. He's suffered second and third degree burns. If we had a proper medical facility, we could take care of him."

"f.u.c.k him. There's still daylight. I want you and some of the boys to take them out and dump them with that b.i.t.c.h you got rid of earlier."

"You don't even want to try and save him?"

"The a.s.shole had it coming. We don't have time and resources to spend on him." Price headed for the exit, motioning for Carter to follow. "We have another issue we need to take care of."

"What's that?"

"That woman, Windows. She's been nothing but trouble since she got here."

"Good luck with that. Meat is infatuated with her."

Price spun around and got into Carter's face. "Is Meat in charge here, or am I?"

"You are."

"Remember that." Price continued walking, and his tone softened. "The problem is, Meat is getting soft because of her and that kid. We've lost two good men because of it. We can't afford to lose any more."

"I understand."

"Give it a few days, and then make it look like an accident. I'll leave the details up to you. Just make sure Meat doesn't suspect us."

Carter nodded. "Roger that."

Price shook his head. "We have to get rid of Windows and that brat before they undermine morale around here."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

When Robson finished explaining his plan for breaking Windows out of the storage facility, he leaned back in his chair in the rectory's dining room and placed his thumbs through his belt loops. The expressions of those around the table made him want to grin. Caslow stared at him as if he had rotters sprouting from his forehead. His own people looked far from convinced. Robson noticed DeWitt lean closer to Roberta and ask if he was serious, to which she just shrugged and said, "I think so." As always, Tibor showed his disgust. Robson was disappointed to see Dravko disturbed because he could usually count on him to go along. Wayans huffed and shook his head. When Wayans attempted to gauge his partner's response, his eyes registered surprise that Simmons was actually contemplating this scheme. Simmons sat there, calculating the possibilities. Robson hoped Simmons would approve since he and Wayans were an integral part of the plan. The only one who supported him was Jennifer, who nodded her approval.

"Well?" asked Robson after a few seconds. "What do you think?"

Simmons sat forward and rested his arms on the table. "It has a lot of moving parts, which increases the chances of something going wrong."

"I don't like that either, but it can't be avoided. And most of the moving parts are in the preparatory stages of the plan, so if something goes wrong it can be corrected. Once we make contact with the enemy, the plan becomes much simpler and has a higher chance of success."

Simmons nodded.

"Wait, wait, wait." Wayans held up his hand and stared at Simmons. "You're not actually buying into this friggin' plan, are you?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's friggin' insane," Wayans said. "No offense, man," he said to Robson.

Robson smiled. "None taken."

Simmons placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's the only chance we have of getting those people out of that facility."

"We don't owe them anything." Wayans nodded to the others at the table. "I'm not meaning to sound like a friggin' jerk, but they're not our concern. Yeah, their situation is bad, but life friggin' sucks. We can't save everyone."

"Think of it as saving ourselves," Simmons responded. "Sooner or later that gang is going to find us. We're going to have to deal with them at some point and, personally, I'd rather do it on our terms when we have the advantage of numbers and the element of surprise."

Wayans sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and huffed. "I friggin' hate it when you're right."

"So that's it?" complained Caslow. "We're going ahead with this scheme?"

"Do you have a better idea?" asked Robson.

"No, but...." Caslow looked to the others around the table and, seeing their displeasure, became embarra.s.sed. "I mean, isn't there another way other than going into the facility to get them?"

"According to what you told us, the only ones who ever leave the compound are the gang members," Robson said. "If we want the civilians, we have to go in and get them."

"Is it worth the risk?"

"Are you f.u.c.king serious?" Jennifer yelled. "Your wife and daughter are locked in there with those rapists. You're willing to abandon them to keep yourself safe?"

"That's not what..." Caslow stumbled for the right words. "I mean, we're putting a lot of us on the line to rescue only three people."

"It's your family, you little s.h.i.t. You should be-"

Robson placed his hand on Jennifer's and squeezed enough to stop her tirade, keeping his gaze fixed on Caslow. "We're not just getting Windows and your family out, but everyone who is being held prisoner there."

DeWitt leaned toward his boss. "That's kind of ambitious, don't you think?"

"We can't leave them there," Robson said matter-of-factly, without sounding accusatory. "Most of them wouldn't last a week on their own. We need to give them time to build up their strength so they can either join us or go on their own."

"How do you plan on feeding them?" asked Simmons.

"I'm guessing there's plenty of food stored away at the facility. We'll use their supplies."

Wayans chuckled. "Good luck getting the gang to agree to that."

"That won't be a problem," said Robson. "We're going to kill all the gang members."

A stunned silence fell over the room.

"You can't do that without due process!" Caslow protested.

"It's not like we'll be executing anyone who hasn't brought it upon themselves. Everyone in that facility who isn't a rapist or murderer is being used as a s.e.x slave or is chained to that perimeter defense line."

"What about your humanity?" Caslow asked.

Wayans snorted derisively. "Where'd you get this guy?"

Jennifer glared at Caslow. "In case you hadn't noticed, legal niceties went out the window with the release of the Zombie Virus."

Robson held up his hand to cut off further arguments. "I'm not pa.s.sing any judgments a court of law wouldn't impose. There are no more police, no more jails, and no more trials. Justice comes from the end of a gun now. We've made it this far without killing any innocent people or taking something that belonged to someone else, and we've saved quite a few people along the way. That's humanity. That gang is only out for themselves. They attacked us when we were by here earlier, and would have murdered us if it wasn't for Dravko's people. Then they found our compound and butchered everyone there, close to thirty people. If we let any of them live, they're going to hunt us down. I'm going to protect my people. If that means I have to kill off a bunch of a.s.sholes who are trying to take me down, I'll gladly put a bullet in their heads and not lose any sleep over it. So it's up to you. If you disagree with the way I'm running things, you can pack up your stuff and head out on your own, and we'll save your family for you. Otherwise, shut the f.u.c.k up, grow a pair, and get with the program."

Robson had seen men emotionally break down before, usually punks who realized they had finally gone too far and would now spend time in prison. Caslow collapsed like a house of cards in a tornado. One second he stared angrily at Robson, then what little defiance he had left drained away. Caslow took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, his head and shoulders drooped. He sobbed uncontrollably.

No one spoke. One by one, everyone around the table stood and exited the room, most ignoring the sh.e.l.l of a man. Jennifer and Wayans flashed him an expression of disgust before leaving. Robson waited until the others had departed before standing up and crossing around the table to where Caslow sat. He patted the man on the shoulder and gave a rea.s.suring squeeze, and then followed the others outside.

Dravko waited near the door of the rectory. When Robson pa.s.sed by, he fell into step with the human. "Can we talk?"

"What's up?"

"I wanted to know why you gave me and Tibor the task of protecting the humans outside the facility rather than fighting with the rest of you. Don't you trust us anymore?"

"It has nothing to do with trust. You and Tibor are not immune to the Zombie Virus like we are. If I asked you to fight alongside the rest of us, you run the risk of being infected. I've lost a lot of people the past few weeks. I don't intend to lose any more"

"Is that the real reason?" Dravko asked.

Robson stopped walking abruptly. "How can you even ask that?"

Dravko hesitated, as if not wanting to broach the subject. After a moment of silence, Robson prodded him. "What's wrong?"

"Do you realize Tibor and I haven't eaten in several days?"

Robson hadn't. His mind had been focused on getting the Angels to Omaha and on rescuing Windows from the rape gang. Even worse, he had cultivated the friendship with Simmons and Wayans, and gone so far as to take that idiot Caslow under his wing, yet had forgotten to provide for his own people. Not his own people, technically, but the vampires existing with them. No wonder Dravko and Tibor questioned him.

"Jesus, I completely forgot that we had run out of your blood supply when the gang butchered the livestock. I'm sorry about that, Dravko."

Dravko appreciated the sincerity of Robson's response. "That's okay."

"No," Robson said, "it isn't. I'll round up some donors right away."

The vampire shook his head. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You can't ask Simmons or Wayans to contribute. They're uneasy as it is having us here. And Caslow would s.h.i.t himself."

"The rest of us can ante up some blood. We've done it before."

"Not before a raid. If you do that, you'll weaken yourselves." Robson tried to protest, but Dravko held up his hands to cut him off. "We can last a long time without feeding. I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to be sure we weren't being marginalized."

"You're not." Robson placed a hand on the vampire's shoulder. "I promise you that."

Dravko reached up and patted Robson's forearm. "Thank you."

"Come on. You can help me get things ready." Robson headed back to the warehouse, with Dravko beside him. "If you want, tomorrow night you can help me get our school bus back."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Each of the Angels came by to say their farewells to Bethany. Some spoke a few words of solace while others offered nothing more than a silent prayer. A few squeezed her hand. All of them shed tears. Natalie sat at the head of the bunk, taking it all in and fighting back her own, trying to remain stoic for the others.

Emily paid her respects last. She walked to the other side of the bunk opposite Natalie and sat on the mattress, clasping Bethany's hand in her own. After a few seconds, she leaned forward and whispered, "Everything will be okay, honey. You're going to a better place. We'll see you soon enough."

She kissed Bethany on the cheek and left. Ari took her place and glanced over at Natalie. "Are you ready?"

Natalie held up three pre-filled syringes, each containing ten milliliters of morphine sulfate. "Thirty milliliters, just like you said. How long will it take?"

"Normally twenty to twenty-five minutes, maybe less considering her condition." Ari reached her hand across the bunk. "I'll do it."

"No. It's my responsibility."

"Have you ever given an injection before?"

"Never."

"Then let me. We have to do it right the first time."

Natalie handed her friend the three syringes. Ari removed the first one from its wrapper and detached the plastic cap covering the needle. She pushed Bethany's head to one side, placed the hypodermic against a vein, and inserted it under the skin until a little blood backwashed into the syringe. Ari slowly depressed the plunger. When she had finished, she withdrew the needle and placed it on the nightstand, and then did the same with the other two syringes. When finished, she placed the plastic caps back on the needles and slid the syringes into her pocket.

"I'll leave you alone. Come get me when it's over." Ari left the cabin, closing the door behind her.

Taking Bethany's hand in her own, Natalie sat with her friend during the last moments. Her mind wandered back over the previous nine months. How they had picked up Bethany walking along the side of Route 95 during one of their supply runs. How many of the girls at camp began training on a cache of World War II German Mausers to stave off boredom. How Bethany, despite being the youngest woman in camp at nineteen, soon became one of their best marksman. How the girls had proved their worth one day when rotters overran the fort and the girls fought them back, a feat for which Robson gave them their name the Angels of Death. Those had been heady days. In a few short weeks her girls had gone from being a band of camp hangers-on to the group's premiere rotter hunting unit. The Angels supported Robson's foraging team on every raid and, because of them, the team had not lost a single person on these missions. The Angels began to believe they were invulnerable.

That all changed when the Angels accompanied Robson's team to Site R to retrieve the vaccine for the Zombie Virus. Natalie never admitted it to the others, but by the second day she realized that the Angels had gotten in well over their heads. Gunning down thirty to forty scattered rotters on raids to isolated locations did not prepare them for what they faced outside their compound, did not prepare them for the realization that society had collapsed and been replaced by a world of the living dead. Sure, they had all gone through the early days of the outbreak, but by the time the world had completely collapsed, most of them had joined the community at Fort McClary and hadn't witnessed the end. The trip down to Site R brought home to the Angels the reality that society as they had known it had been supplanted by a rotter world. By the time the Angels had finished battling those four hundred rotters in the access tunnel leading to the underground facility, their morale had been shattered. Her girls no longer functioned as a cohesive fighting unit. In some respects, they were worse off now than when each of them had arrived at camp, because back then they each possessed an ember of hope she could fan into the flame of self-respect. After Site R, those flames had been extinguished.

Bethany's breathing grew labored as the effects of the morphine began to take hold and impaired her respiratory functions. Natalie pushed the loose strands of hair off of Bethany's face and stroked her forehead. The skin burned with fever. A part of her wanted to get a cloth soaked with cold water and place it over Bethany's forehead, but what could would it do now? Natalie sniffed back her tears, tears for Bethany's suffering as much as her own guilt.

Everything that happened after finding Fort McClary scorched seemed aligned against her. Someone had to get the vaccine to Omaha, otherwise everything they had endured and everyone they had lost to retrieve it would have been for nothing. Because Robson's team had been annihilated at Site R, that left the Angels as the only ones available to make the trip, even though they were in no condition to do a cross-country trek through rotter-infested territory. But what else could she do? Even if she had refused, where would they go now that the camp had been destroyed? Natalie had desperately wanted to ask Robson to lead them, as much to have him with her as to take on the responsibility. However, that would mean abandoning Windows to the rape gang, which she couldn't condone. So she agreed to take on a suicide mission.

Despite the inevitably of the circ.u.mstances beyond her control that brought her to this moment, Natalie still blamed herself for Bethany's death.

She would also blame herself for the other Angels who would die before they reached Omaha.

Bethany's chest heaved slightly. Natalie clasped her hand and held tight. The woman tried to suck in air, but her lungs no longer functioned. She kept up the quiet death struggle for nearly a minute. Bethany gasped, and it was over. As her friend crossed over into a better realm, Natalie allowed tears to stream down her cheeks.

BOOK TWO.