The Angels stared at her incredulously.

"We've all become sloppy. Ever since we left Site R, we've barely functioned as a cohesive unit. When we returned via Portland, most of you didn't even get off the bus to set up a perimeter. Bethany got bit because we got careless and let that rotter slip by us. If we don't shape up soon, we're all going to wind up like her."

"To be fair," argued Ari, "we were never trained to handle what happened at Site R."

"I have news for you." Natalie moved closer to the group. Several of them stepped back. Good, she thought. They're afraid of me. Maybe what I have to say will sink in. "What we encountered at Site R is what this world is really like now. We fooled ourselves into believing we could handle it because we made a few supply runs to isolated stores where rotter activity was minimal. If we couldn't deal with what we ran into in Pennsylvania, what do you think is going to happen on the way to Omaha?"

"Most of this trip is by water." Even Emily seemed intimidated.

"The last part isn't. We're going to have to sail through New Orleans, navigate the Mississippi, and travel cross country to reach our destination. Are you ready for that?" Natalie faced the others. "Are any of you? s.h.i.t, we almost got our a.s.ses handed to us back at the Coast Guard cutter."

"So what do you recommend?" asked Ari.

"That we put our heads on straight and get back in the game." Natalie pointed toward the main cabin. "Remember, our whole reason for doing this is to take the vaccine to Omaha so the government can ma.s.s produce it, and maybe start taking this country back from the living dead. I'm not exaggerating when I say we may well be the last hope of humanity. But we're never going to make it unless we get our s.h.i.t together. And if we don't make it, then Bethany, Leila, everyone who died at or on the way to Site R, and everyone slaughtered back at camp, will have died for nothing."

Without saying another word, Natalie stormed off and headed back to her cabin, letting her Angels take in what she had just said. In reality, she didn't know where to go from there. A pep talk was a poor subst.i.tute for action. She had yet to figure out a way to restore the Angels' shattered morale and make them a cohesive fighting unit again. And she only had a few days to figure it out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

Robson stood on the Cas...o...b..y Bridge, staring down the span until it disappeared into the darkness of Portland. Dravko and Tibor stood to his left, Simmons and DeWitt to his right.

"We're clear on this?" asked Robson. "Dravko, Tibor, and I go in and get the school bus. You guys wait here and come after us if we get in trouble."

"It sounds risky," Simmons replied. "Wouldn't it be easier to find another school bus?"

Robson shook his head. "We'd chew up a lot of time and gas trying to locate one. And good luck finding one that runs. We know this one works."

"What about the dead?" asked Simmons.

"They're locked up behind fences and won't be a problem. We'll be in and out in ten minutes." Robson tapped the radio attached to his belt. "If we get into trouble, help is only a phone call away." He gave a final look to the others. "Ready?"

Simmons nodded. "I guess. I'm just glad I'm not the crazy one driving into a dead-infested city. Good luck."

As Simmons and DeWitt joined the rest of the group, Robson and the vampires walked over to their specially-prepared Humvee. Tibor climbed in behind the wheel and Dravko took the pa.s.senger seat.

Robson got in back and closed the door. "Let's do this."

Tibor headed into downtown Portland.

They had driven five hundred yards when Robson noticed something wrong. On the northern approach of the bridge, they pa.s.sed a rotter in a blood-stained jogging suit shambling aimlessly. At first Robson paid no attention. Then they pa.s.sed a second and third. He leaned forward between the front seats.

"We've got a problem."

Dravko turned his attention over his shoulder. "Why do you say that?"

Robson pointed to the fourth rotter they pa.s.sed, a woman in a tattered sundress. "The streets were empty last time we came through here."

"Maybe they came across the bridge after we destroyed the barricade."

Tibor pointed ahead of him. "Or maybe they came from downtown."

As they neared the end of the ramp, the headlights shone on hundreds of the living dead milling around Commerce Street.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Dravko asked.

Robson shrugged. "The chain link fence must have collapsed."

Upon hearing the approaching vehicle, the living dead turned in the direction of the noise and surged forward.

Tibor slowed the Humvee. "Should we go back?

"No," Robson responded. "There aren't too many."

Tibor glared at him. "One is enough. Remember, we're not immune to them."

"Don't worry. We can make it."

Tibor glanced over at Dravko, who nodded toward downtown. Tibor grunted and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The Humvee plowed into the first rotter, bursting its midsection and sending the body cartwheeling to one side.

"Careful," Dravko admonished.

"I know what I'm doing." Tibor swerved around another of the living dead, clipping it with the rear fender.

The farther they got into downtown Portland, the heavier the rotters became. With each pa.s.sing minute, the living dead closed in tighter around the Humvee to the point that Tibor couldn't maneuver around them. Each time he slammed into one of them, it slowed their speed. At this rate, they would be swarmed within a minute. Maybe Robson had miscalculated this one.

Dravko pointed ahead of them. "There it is."

The Humvee's headlights reflected off of the rear of the school bus. Off to its right, one section of the chain link fence had collapsed, probably right after he had used the bus as a decoy to lure the living dead away from the ferry terminal so the Angels could escape. A few dozen rotters mingled around on the other side of the fence. Another score wandered around the vehicle. They turned at the approach of the Humvee and headed toward it.

Robson leaned forward and tapped Tibor on the shoulder. "Drop me off by the door. I can take it from there."

Tibor snarled. Veering to the left, he swung the Humvee around the front of the school bus. Robson cursed to himself when he realized he had left open the folding gla.s.s doors. When Tibor stopped, Robson jumped out. Something caught on the door latch. With a yank of his hips, he pulled himself free, slammed shut the Humvee's door, and bounded onto the school bus. Grabbing the door handle bar, he slammed it shut. A quick glance in the side mirrors showed the nearby rotters converging on both vehicles. The folding doors would only hold them for a few seconds. Sliding into the driver's seat, he brushed away the swarm of flies around his head and reached for the ignition key."f.u.c.k!"

The ignition was already set in the ON position. He remembered he had left the engine running when they dropped off the bus. It had used up all of its gasoline. He had to get back to the Humvee. Robson headed for the door. Three rotters had moved into the s.p.a.ce between the two vehicles. Even though their attention focused on the Humvee, they still trapped him inside. He wished he had brought along his AA-12. As Robson reached for his Colt detective .38 special, two things happened he did not expect.

The Humvee pulled away.

The moan of rotters echoed from the interior of the school bus.

Just as Robson closed the door to the school bus, three rotters emerged from around the vehicle's corners, two from the front and one from the rear. Dravko wanted to get out so he could clear them away, but the first pair was too close. One wore a yellow rubber fishermen's coat and sported a heavy beard caked in gore. It ran its hands across the window, smearing the surface with decayed skin. It snapped its jaws at Dravko. When its mouth hit the gla.s.s, several teeth tore loose, ripping out chunks of gum that stuck to the window. The other two rotters closed around the door.

Tibor pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The Humvee shot forward, knocking the three back against the school bus. Once free from the threat, Tibor did not slow down.

Dravko's attention switched between the school bus behind him and to Tibor. "What are you doing? You can't leave Robson behind."

Tibor said nothing and continued down Commerce Street.

Robson aimed his firearm down the length of the bus. It was too dark to see anything clearly. In the limited light from the Humvee's taillights he could make out three, maybe four, shapes approaching. Aiming as best he could, Robson fired a single round. The sound of a bullet striking bone and the collapse of the shadow told him he had scored a hit. Switching his aim, Robson fired again. The shadow jerked back and kept on coming. Another shot and the shadow dropped to its knees and fell forward. Moving the Colt toward the last shadow, he fired off a fourth round. The shadow swayed to one side and dropped to the floor.

The sound of the folding doors being pried open drew Robson's attention back to the front. The three rotters that had swarmed the Humvee had turned to attack the school bus. The one in a yellow fishermen's coat had pushed against the centerline, opening it enough for the other two to get their hands inside. Only the weight of the first rotter against the gla.s.s prevented them from opening it. Sliding the firearm into his belt, Robson grabbed the support bar by the front seats for leverage and slammed his right foot onto the center frame of the folding door. The jamb closed around the fingers of the two rotters. They didn't withdraw them. Robson kicked again. This time a finger broke off. The door opened wider, and one of the rotters tried to shove its head inside. Removing the Colt from his belt and placing it against the rotter's forehead, Robson squeezed the trigger. Within the confines of the school bus, the blast was deafening. The rotter's head exploded and the limp body fell back, releasing its grip. Rushing forward, Robson slammed his weight against the door, shutting it with such force that he severed the fingers of the other rotter, each one plopping to the floor like pieces of dead meat.

With the door now secure, Robson leaned his weight into it and braced his feet against the steps. At best, he had a few minutes before enough rotters swarmed the door that he couldn't hold them back. He would deal with Dravko and Tibor later. Right now he needed to call DeWitt to come get him. Reaching for his belt, he realized his radio was gone. He frantically felt around, hoping maybe it had shifted with all his moving, but couldn't find it. Then he remembered something getting caught on the door of the Humvee. Checking the pavement outside, he saw his radio on the ground.

"f.u.c.k!" Robson slammed his hand against the gla.s.s.

At the rear of the school bus, the third rotter grabbed one of the seat backs and lifted itself up. It had not been shot by Robson. It had stumbled over the corpse in front of it just as he had fired, falling to the floor as the bullet thumped harmlessly into its shoulder. Climbing to its feet, it made its way toward the noise at the front of the bus.

"Tibor!" Dravko grabbed the vampire's forearm and squeezed tight. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing? We can't leave Robson there to die!"

Tibor stopped the Humvee five hundred feet away from the bus. The two glared at each other. Dravko struggled not to morph into his vampire form. At the first sign of aggression from Tibor he would tear out his throat. As the standoff went down inside the vehicle, rotters gathered outside. Dead hands slapped against the metal and scratched the gla.s.s, trying to get at the food. Within a minute, most of the living dead in the area had closed around the Humvee. Without taking his eyes off of Dravko, Tibor shifted into reverse and backed the Humvee toward the school bus. He glanced behind him to maneuver the vehicle behind the bus, stopping when within a few feet of the rear b.u.mper. The maneuver left the rotters down the road. En ma.s.se, they turned and followed the Humvee.

"There's a chain in the trunk," said Tibor. "Attach it to the school bus and we'll pull it to safety."

Knowing he only had seconds to act, Dravko jumped out and raced around to the rear of the vehicle. As he opened the trunk, he half expected to find it empty and have Tibor drive away. To his surprise, a twenty-foot tow chain with twin hooks on either end lay rolled up. Grabbing one end, he attached it to the tow hitch on the Humvee. Taking the other end, Dravko dropped to the ground, crawled under the bus, and wrapped it around the axle and crankshaft. Once secured, he crawled out. The nearest rotter was less than fifty feet away.

Jumping back into the Humvee, Dravko closed the door. "Let's get out of here."

Robson heard the moan a split second before he saw the shadow move. He hadn't heard it approach because of the noise outside, and now it stood a few feet away. With not enough time to aim, he raised the Colt close to his chest and fired a single round into the rotter's sternum. The force of the shot caused it to stagger back. Extending his arm and aiming at its head, Robson fired his last round. The skull exploded, showering the far side of the bus in brains and gore. He was safe for the moment.

He was also out of bullets.

Another noise at the rear of the bus caught his attention. He leaned forward to check in back, afraid he would find more rotters. Instead, he saw the Humvee backing up. Just in time, too. Four more rotters had gathered around the door to the bus. They were pushing to get inside, and his back and legs were buckling under the pressure. He saw Dravko jump out and attach both ends of the tow line, then get back in the Humvee. The vehicle drove away. A moment later, the bus jerked when the towline pulled taut. The rotters against the door fell away, and Robson's back slammed against the gla.s.s when the pressure let up. He sighed, every muscle in his body protesting the strain of the last few minutes.

The two vehicles crept along Commerce Street and through downtown Portland. Rotters closed around them, though not enough to impede their progress. For twenty tense minutes, Robson stood in the stairwell of the bus, his back against the door to prevent any stray living dead from getting in, antic.i.p.ating either being swarmed to a standstill, the towline breaking, or Dravko and Tibor abandoning him. Not until they pulled onto the ramp leading to the Cis...o...b..y Bridge did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Glancing out the windshield, he saw that only a handful of rotters bothered following them, more than enough for DeWitt and Simmons to handle.

Moving over to the driver's seat, Robson sat down to wait out the rest of the journey.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

They made it back to the warehouse a few hours before dawn. Once out of Portland, the rest of the trip had been easy. They had stopped on the southern approach of the Cis...o...b..y Bridge to unhook the towline and transfer gas from the other vehicles. The few rotters that had followed had been dispatched by Simmons and Wayans. Once the bus had enough gas, the convoy made its way to Gilmanton.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the construction company, Jennifer ran out of the garage. Caslow followed her out and hovered around the door, embarra.s.sed to join the others. Robson pulled the bus alongside the building and stopped. When he opened the folding door, Jennifer bounded up the steps, slowing when she reached the landing.

"I'm glad you're all right," she said.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It took you so long to come back I thought..." She sniffed a few times, and turned toward the rear of the bus. Her eyes widened when she saw the three corpses on the floor. "Jesus, what happened?"

"I'll tell you over breakfast." Robson placed a hand on Jennifer's shoulder and led her off the bus.

She smiled. "Who's going to clean it up?"

Robson nodded toward Caslow. "Maybe it's about time he pitched in."

"It's probably as close he'll ever get to them."

Tibor brushed past them and stormed into the garage. Caslow saw the vampire approach and jumped aside, disappearing around the corner of the building. Robson glanced over his shoulder. Dravko stood by the specialized Humvee, his expression distraught. Robson halted.

"What's wrong?" Jennifer asked.

"I need to talk to Dravko. I'll be inside in a few."

Jennifer headed back to the garage, and Robson walked over to Dravko. The vampire leaned against the Humvee and averted his gaze, which meant they hadn't planned on leaving him in Portland. Well, at least Dravko hadn't. He took a deep breath as he approached.

Fear and worry tinted Dravko's eyes. "I have no idea what happened back there. I think Tibor planned on leaving you."

"Are you certain?"

Dravko shook his head. "That's the thing. I asked him if that was his intention. He never answered, but he did stop and go back for you. I don't know if he planned on leading the rotters away from you so he could go back and attach the towline, or if he planned on abandoning you."

"What would you have done if he did mean to leave me?"

Dravko stiffened his back, not in anger but in determination. "Then either Tibor or I would have died in Portland."

"Thanks for having my back."

"I may not always have it."

"What do you mean?"