"No."

"Both of you, can it." Natalie placed the binoculars on the console. "There's no way of getting past that bridge."

"So this is it?" asked Ari. "We're stuck here?"

"Nope. We're just changing boats." Natalie stepped over to Emily. "Can you sail anything?"

"Pretty much. Why?"

Natalie pointed to the sandbar. "There's a couple of dozen vessels beached up there. I'm sure we can find one that still works that'll take us to Omaha."

Emily grinned. "That sounds like a good plan."

"Of course it is. It's my plan." Natalie winked at her. "Ari, go below and tell the rest of the Angels to get ready. Bring all the ammo and as much food and water as they can carry in their backpacks. And bring our gear. We meet on deck in fifteen minutes."

Ari headed below, and Natalie grabbed the binoculars, scanning the sandbar one final time. Nothing stirred, not even wild animals.

Dear G.o.d, please let us pull this off.

Emily maneuvered the yacht alongside the pontoon bridge and cut the engines. Ari jumped off, used a dock line to anchor the bow to the bridge, and then ran astern to do the same. Once she had moored the yacht, she climbed back on board.

The twelve Angels stood in a semi-circle on the main deck near the transom. Each wore their leather jackets unb.u.t.toned and had a backpack strapped over their shoulders. Ari held the briefcase containing the Zombie Vaccine in her left hand. Natalie took Ari's M-16A2 and swung it over her shoulder.

"Okay, ladies. This should be easy. I've been watching that beach for twenty minutes and haven't seen any rotters. I have no idea if there are any in the boats. So when we get to the sandbar, don't talk unless it's necessary. Emily and I will check each boat until we find one that works. Ari, keep close to us. The rest of you stay on the sandbar and keep your eyes open. Any questions?"

None.

"Then let's rock, ladies."

The Angels disembarked from the yacht and onto the pontoon bridge. Before she left, Emily bent over and patted the gunwale. "I'm gonna miss ya, honey."

They walked along the pontoon bridge for a few hundred feet. Natalie noticed that the girls maintained a defense stance, with half of them on each side of the span on the lookout for danger. The women jumped down from the bridge and, as they made their way down the sandbar, formed a circle around Natalie, Emily, and Ari. They proceeded along the bank closest to the river where most of the boats were beached. Emily stopped after a few minutes and studied each of the vessels.

"What are you looking for?" Natalie asked.

Emily ignored her and took off. "That."

Maintaining formation, the Angels followed her until she stopped fifty feet from the end of the sandbar in front of a police boat emblazoned with the logo of the Missouri State Water Patrol. It was thirty feet long, with a cabin on the centerline and an exposed deck to the rear, and no lower deck. Emily walked around the exterior, checking the portion of the hull lodged on the sand. When she reached the stern, ten feet of which extended into the river, she waded in up to her hips and viewed the hull. When she came ash.o.r.e and rejoined Natalie, she had a grin on her face.

"I don't think there's any damage to the hull or propellers, so she should be seaworthy."

"Are you sure?" asked Natalie. "It looks awfully small."

"It's not as comfortable as the yacht. It's faster, though, and should get us there by morning."

"I'm sold. Let's just hope it runs," Natalie said. "Doreen, you're with us. Tiara, keep an eye on and Ari. The rest of you, spread out."

The Angels formed a semi-circle that extended out one hundred feet. Natalie and the others approached the patrol boat. Doreen peered over the gunwale and, finding it empty, climbed aboard and waved on the others. Natalie and Emily joined her and made their way forward to the bridge, with Emily positioning herself in front of the console. The key was still in the ignition. She turned it to the right, and the gauges came to life.

"That's good," she said. "The battery works."

"Check the fuel gauge," Natalie responded. "It's half empty."

"Not to worry." Emily pointed to the bow. Four fifty-five gallon drums had been lashed to the deck, with a hand pump protruding from the top of one of them. "We have plenty of refueling capability. Whoever owned this boat had prepared to make a run for it. I don't think they antic.i.p.ated finding a pontoon bridge blocking their path."

"Good news for us."

"That's for sure, honey." Emily placed her finger on the starter b.u.t.ton. "Keep your fingers crossed."

Josephine stood in the center of the perimeter, watching the Missouri side of the Mississippi River for any activity when she saw something protruding from the sandbar two hundred feet away. She squinted to see it more clearly. Only a small portion stuck up above the surface. Josephine snapped her fingers to get the attention of Tiara's, who stood on her right. When Tiara turned to her, she said, "Cover me."

"Why?

Josephine pointed to the object. "Something's in the sand. I want to see what it is."

"Forget about it."

"It might be something we can use."

Tiara sighed. "Be careful."

Josephine left the perimeter and crossed the sandbar. She was surprised she had even spotted it considering only an area the size of a baseball was visible, and even that only stuck out an inch or so. The dark color had attracted her attention because it contrasted against the surface. When she reached it, it looked like an old piece of leather. Kneeling, she brushed away the sand covering the object, exposing what lay- Josephine drew back in horror.

The object was a decayed, mummified hand.

And the index and forefinger twitched.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

Emily pressed the starter b.u.t.ton. The engines sputtered and protested.

The groan of the patrol boat's engines cut across the sandbar. The fingers on the dead hand closed in on the palm. Josephine spun her head toward the patrol boat and screamed, "Don't start those engines!"

Natalie heard Josephine's cry and turned toward her just as Emily pressed the starter b.u.t.ton again. This time the engines roared to life. Emily throttled them forward to make certain they didn't stall. In the quiet along the Mississippi, the noise was deafening.

All along the sandbar, decayed hands shot out from under the sand as the living dead woke from their rest. And the Angels were in the middle of them.

The hand grabbed Josephine around the wrist and held her tight. Startled, she fell backwards and dropped the M-16A2. When she tried to crawl away, the backpack dug into the sand, hindering her movement. She succeeded only in pulling the rotter free. Clumps of wet sand broke off and crumbled. It wore a National Guard uniform. Its chest had been torn open and emptied of organs, leaving a dozen crabs crawling around the empty cavity. The rotter snarled, exposing grit-encrusted teeth. With its free arm, it grabbed her by the left ankle and pulled itself out further. Josephine reached for her semi-automatic rifle, but the rotter lay between them. Twisting to one side, she kicked at its head, driving the heel of her boot into its face. With each strike, shattered teeth flew from its mouth. The third kick tore loose a large chunk of its upper lip, revealing the decayed jaw underneath. On the fifth, its lower jaw broke loose, dangling from the right side of its face by a few tendons and strips of skin.

Still, the rotter would not release its grip and continued to crawl onto Josephine.

One rotter that had been face down pushed itself to its hands in knees in front of Sandy. She took a step back, aimed her M-16A2 at its head, and pulled the trigger. The rotter shuddered and collapsed, the sand beneath it absorbing the gore. She switched her aim to another of the living dead rising five feet to her left.

Sarah went to help Josephine when three of the living dead rose out of the sand in front of her. She took down the ones on the right and left with double taps to the head; shooting the one in the center would put Josephine in the line of sight. Stepping forward, Sarah kicked the rotter in its face, knocking it on its back. She shoved the barrel of her M-16A2 into its mouth and fired.

Stephanie felt the ground bulge beneath her. Looking down, she saw one of the living dead trying to push itself free under her feet. She stomped on its head three times until the skull caved in.

Amy stood on the far right end of the perimeter, away from the rotters. Ten of them emerged from the sandbar between her and the police boat, and she could not shoot them without the risk of hitting the other Angels. Holding the stock in her right hand and the barrel in her left, she surged forward, ready to club her way to safety.

Four of the living dead broke through the sand around Katie, encircling her. One by one, she stepped up to each rotter, placed the barrel against its head, and took it down with a single shot. When she glanced around, an increasing number of the living dead were rising all along the sandbar. Some had already stood and staggered toward the perimeter.

Tiara raised her M-16A2 and took careful aim at the rotter attacking Josephine. Inhaling deeply and holding it, she applied pressure to the trigger, waiting for the clear shot. She tuned out everything around her.

Including the hand that pushed its way through the sand by her right foot.

Natalie watched in horror as rotters pushed their way to the surface all along the sandbar, surrounding the Angels. At least twenty stood between her girls and the police boat, with another thirty beyond them.

Emily shifted the throttles into reverse and gunned the engine. The boat shuddered, yet remained lodged on the sandbar.

"What are you doing?" Natalie asked.

"Trying to get us off this thing. We're stuck. I need you three to push us loose."

"We have to help the others."

"Honey, if we don't free this boat before the rotters reach us, none of us are getting out of here alive."

"f.u.c.k." Natalie reached over the gunwale. "Ari, give me that briefcase. Then you and Doreen get to the bow and get ready to push."

Ari handed it over as Doreen jumped off the boat, and the two women moved to the bow. Natalie laid the briefcase between two seats and joined them. When all three were in place, she yelled out to Emily.

"Ready!"

The engines roared. The three women pushed against the hull, digging furrows in the sand with their feet. The boat would not move. Natalie glanced over her shoulder. The commotion had attracted the attention of seven rotters that shambled toward them.

The National Guard rotter had Josephine pinned. She couldn't roll to the left because of her backpack, and if she rolled to the right the rotter would fall on her. It climbed onto her chest, its weight pushing her down. She placed her hands on its shoulders and shoved it away. That wouldn't save her for long.

Then its head exploded, spraying the sand to her left with gore and skull fragments. Rolling to the right and pushing, she knocked the body to one side, and crawled on hands and knees to retrieve her M-16A2. She turned to Tiara to thank her, and her heart sank.

Tiara gave herself a mental high-five when the headshot brought down the rotter attacking Josephine. Her friend threw off the corpse and scurried to get her weapon.

A hand grabbed Tiara around the right ankle. Before she could react, a second hand reached out and clutched her pants leg. Layers of sand poured off, revealing a female rotter in a police uniform. It climbed up Tiara, grasping her belt, then her arm, and then her shoulder. Its weight knocked Tiara down, pinning her free arm. The rotter dragged itself across Tiara's body. Placing one decayed hand on her shoulder and the other on her face, it exposed her neck and lunged.

Tiara screamed when she felt its teeth slice through the skin and bite deep into muscle.

Natalie and the others continued to push, and the boat refused to budge. The rotters were only fifteen feet away now. Unslinging her M-16A2, she stepped up to the closest one, placed the barrel against its forehead, and fired. Before it even hit the ground, she moved toward the next closest. Doreen raced up beside her and started shooting the living dead. It took only a few seconds to bring all seven down. Things had changed dramatically in those seconds.

When Natalie glanced out at the perimeter, she saw the rest of the living dead threatening to swarm her Angels.

"Everybody fall back to the boat! Now!"

Josephine could tell by the spray of blood that the rotter had severed Tiara's carotid artery. Even though Tiara wouldn't come back as one of the living dead, she would not survive the attack. Raising the M-16A2, she emptied her magazine into both her friend and the rotter. Bullets churned up the sand and thudded into living and dead flesh. When Josephine finished, neither one moved.

She silently said goodbye to her friend and climbed back to her feet.

Upon hearing Natalie's order to fall back, most of the Angels obeyed. Only a few rotters now stood between them and the boat, all of which were shot through the head on the Angels' retreat. One grabbed Katie's backpack and nearly dragged her down. She dropped her M-16A2 and shoved back. The rotter tumbled over, still clutching the backpack, and Katie arched her shoulders, sliding the backpack free. She grabbed the automatic rifle and dashed for the boat.

The rotters from outside the perimeter drew closer, their moans incessant as they neared their food.

When each of the Angels reached the boat, Natalie had them throw their backpack on deck and join in dislodging it. Soon most of the Angels were gathered around the bow, trying to shove it into the river.

Except for Josephine and Amy.

Josephine noticed that the rotters between her and the boat concentrated on the Angels gathered around the bow. She calculated the path of least rotter presence, took a deep breath, and made a dash. Josephine dodged between the living dead, constantly changing direction to stay as far away from danger as possible. Several rotters turned and lunged, and she swatted their hands away as she raced past. Within seconds, she had made it through the horde and reached her friends.

Amy had waded into the approaching rotters, slamming the b.u.t.t of her M-16A2 several times into the face of the closest rotter before it collapsed. She paused to catch her breath, and saw the other nine bearing down on her. At this rate, she would never make it through. Even if she did, too many rotters converged around the police boat. Amy searched for another escape route and found it in the row off abandoned boats that sat along the bank of the sandbar. She counted ten between her and the police boat. Racing for the nearest one, a small six-seat pleasure craft, she climbed over the gunwale onto the main deck. When she turned around, the nine rotters had changed direction and approached the pleasure craft. Jumping to the adjacent barge, she made her way along the sandbar one boat at a time.

Emily cut back power to the engines and swore to herself. Thirty rotters drew closer. Her fingers wrapped around the throttle.

Come on, honey. Don't let me down.

Emily yanked the controls into reverse.

At the bow, the Angels pushed with all their strength. Sweat poured down their faces and backs, and their feet dug up the sand until they began to lose their footing. The police boat would not move. Then, just as they were about to give up hope, it lurched back a foot. The Angels pushed even harder.