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.

Lopez headed for the C-130 and led the group toward a two-story building on the opposite side of the twin hangers. A sign on the building read HOTEL AIR FORCE. The corporal entered and made his way to the dining room.

"Hey, Lieutenant. We got company."

A young woman in green Air Force cammies emerged from the kitchen. Natalie guessed her to be no more than thirty. She had the pet.i.te body of someone in their late twenties, with a haggard appearance that made her look years older. Her red hair, which hung down to her shoulders and had not been trimmed in months, contained streaks of white. Furrows ran across her forehead, and black circles highlighted her glazed eyes. She showed no expression upon leaving the kitchen until she saw the a.s.sault rifles slung over the Angels' shoulders. Then she turned on Lopez.

"Why the f.u.c.k are they still armed?"

"It's okay, Lieutenant," Lopez defended himself. "They're friendly."

"Not that it matters anymore." The woman's defiance evaporated with an exasperated shrug. She approached Natalie, extending her hand. "I'm Lieutenant Jane Pandelosi, United States Air Force. I'm in command of what's left here."

"Natalie Bazargan." She gave the hand a single pump. "We have the vaccine Dr. Compton prepared against the Zombie Virus. We're here to pa.s.s it to the President."

The lieutenant sighed. "You wasted your time, lady."

"Why's that?"

"Revenants overran the President's bunker thirty hours ago."

After dropping that bombsh.e.l.l, Pandelosi refused to explain until they had breakfast. Although Natalie had been stunned by the lieutenant's indifference, she withheld asking any questions until the appropriate moment. The Angels followed the lieutenant through the chow line, grabbing trays and getting themselves a hot meal.

Besides Pandelosi, Lopez, and Duncan, three others joined them for breakfast-Privates Curtis Harrington and Michael Kim, and Sergeant Ray "Sarge" Batchelder. Natalie waited until everyone had started eating before broaching the topic.

"Is this all your people?"

"For the most part," Pandelosi replied. "I have three people north of the base in case anyone staggers south from the bunker."

"And The Butcher," added Harrington.

"Knock that s.h.i.t off, soldier," ordered Pandelosi. "Mouth off like that again and you'll do guard duty up north."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lopez leaned closer to Natalie. "They're referring to Captain Everett, the pilot of the C-130. You saw him on the way in earlier."

"Isn't he joining us?" asked Ari.

Pandelosi shook her head. "He avoids us because most of my people can't stand him."

"Because he's a butcher," said Harrington under his breath.

Pandelosi cast the private a withering stare, and then went on to explain. "When the outbreak first occurred, Captain Everett flew an AC-130 Specter to run strafing missions against revenants in Illinois. They're armed with a 105mm Howitzer, a 40mm Bofors gun, and a .30 caliber chain gun. On his last mission outside of Chicago, to stop a swarm of revenants from escaping the city, the fire control team aboard opened up on a bridge that contained several hundred civilians trying to flee the horde. It only slowed down the dead and killed off most of the survivors. Everett jockeyed the ship; the fire control team did the killing. That didn't matter, though. The media placed the blame for the ma.s.sacre on his shoulder and gave him the nickname The Butcher. He has never lived it down, nor has he forgiven himself. That's why he never eats with us. It's also why he refused to take command of this base when the President downsized it."

"It's not a very large command," said Emily. "No offense."

"Not now. After the outbreak, the military expanded our ranks to five hundred people under a major general. We're the closest air base to the bunker where the government-in-exile was established. Those first few weeks, everyone in Washington who had survived the outbreak made their way here, mostly by plane. The Vice President and some others had been ordered to Colorado Springs to set up a shadow government in case something happened here. We lost contact with them after five weeks. No one knows what happened."

"And n.o.body around here gave a s.h.i.t," added Sarge.

"That's harsh," said Natalie.

"It's true." Pandelosi vented a lot of frustration in that response. "We had a lot of good men and women here, people with their own loved ones they were concerned about, who stayed put to keep this air base open so we could ensure continuity of government. Our elected officials, however, were more concerned with saving their own a.s.ses. Over a thousand people landed at this airport, and half of them weren't even government officials. I watched staffers, lobbyists, Hollywood celebrities, CEOs, media personalities, and a whole host of non-essential personnel fly into here before heading north. There are even twenty-five members of the Saudi royal family up there.

"About a month after the outbreak, when everybody was who going to make it out alive had already arrived, the President downsized Offutt to just under one hundred people. That's when I took command. The rest were sent east to battle the revenants along the Mississippi. There wasn't much for us to do after that. We got a hundred or so survivors coming through here, fed them, and sent them on their way."

"Why?" asked Natalie.

"Officially they're 'a drain on resources'." Pandelosi grimaced at the words.

The Angels did not fully understand.

"Did you notice Omaha is deserted?" Sarge asked. "That's because, under orders of the President, the governor declared martial law and evacuated everyone from the city. The President wanted to avoid any local infestations that could threaten the bunker. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of innocent people died because they were forced out of their homes and sent south. Not that it did any good in the long run."

"What happened?"

"In the bunker?" Pandelosi shrugged. "Who knows? The rules on containment security were supposed to be very strict. Everyone who landed here was supposed to undergo a complete physical before being allowed to proceed up north, and if you had a wound of any kind, then you had to undergo a forty-eight-hour quarantine."

"I a.s.sume those rules weren't adhered to?" Emily asked.

"Staffers, military personnel, and family members obeyed them. The princ.i.p.als and Congressmen refused to submit to such an indignity, and the President waived the rules for them, and for most of the other special guests."

"Is that how the infection reached the bunker?" This time Natalie asked the question.

"We don't know." Pandelosi stared down at the table and swallowed hard. When she didn't speak after several seconds, Sarge picked up the conversation.

"The lieutenant had a good friend in the bunker's radio room who she used to chat with every day. They exchanged gossip on what was going on inside and out here in the real world. Two days ago, he contacted us to say an outbreak had taken place inside the bunker, and that they were trying to contain it. Seven hours later, he called back to say they had been overrun, that almost everyone had been infected, and that he and the few survivors left would try and make their way to Offutt. That was the last anyone heard from them."

"I'm sorry," said Natalie. "Did your friend make it?"

"No." Pandelosi raised her head. Tears filled her eyes. "And he was my fiance."

An awkward silence fell over the group.

"I ordered everyone here to get out while they could," Pandelosi resumed after composing herself. "We agreed to stay behind for a few days in case anyone made it out of the bunker alive and managed to get this far south. We're flying out first thing tomorrow morning, which is why it's good you showed up when you did. You're welcome to go with us, if you want."

"Is there anyone left from the government?" Ari asked.

"That depends on who you talk to," answered Kim.

"What do you mean?" Ari asked.

"Go ahead," Pandelosi said to Kim. "You're the political science major."

Kim smiled. "According to the Const.i.tution, the highest ranking surviving official still alive who can take over the government now that the President is dead is the Secretary of Defense. But he's in Canada. He was flying back from a summit in Europe and made it as far as Montreal before the United States banned all air travel. Now there's a huge debate going on within the remnants of the government over whether or not his being in a foreign country makes him ineligible to take over the Presidency."

"Do you believe it?" Harrington snorted. "America is dead and these a.s.sholes are still fighting over power."

"What are the other options?" Natalie asked.

"We could go to Wyoming," joked Duncan.

"Too cold for me," Lopez remarked.

"What's in Wyoming?" asked Emily.

Pandelosi rolled her eyes. "This past spring, the governor of Wyoming declared himself the most capable official to deal with the revenant threat. The winter was so cold and the snow so deep that it stopped the spread of the revenants for several months, giving the governor time to regroup and organize his defenses. By the time the thaw hit, he had cleared out most of the state of the living dead and had set up fortified enclaves throughout the region. He doesn't have the legal authority to be President, yet he has the street creds. That's not where we're heading. We're flying to San Francisco. The Secretary of Education has established a bridgehead that has withstood the revenants for eight months. From what we've heard, a lot of survivors have been making their way there. Rumor has it he's getting ready to launch a counteroffensive. That's the reason we're going, to be part of that. If you have the vaccine, you guys will be welcomed as heroes."

A flurry of excitement pa.s.sed among the Angels. Natalie quieted them down, and then asked Pandelosi, "You don't mind taking us along?"

"Not at all. We have plenty of room on the C-130. We already have clearance to land at Alameda Airport. Lopez, call Alameda and let them know we'll be bringing eleven extra people with us. Then set these women up in the empty rooms. Make sure they have bed linen and towels for the showers."

"Showers?" Stephanie asked.

"Hot showers." The lieutenant grinned for the first time.

Natalie smiled as the Angels talked excitedly amongst themselves like teenagers discussing the prom. "I don't know how to thank you for this," she said to the lieutenant.

"Be on time tomorrow," Pandelosi responded. "Breakfast is at 0800. We take off at 0900."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN.

Price strolled around the facility, ostensibly checking on the progress of the pack up. It had not taken as long as antic.i.p.ated because his people had so little. As he walked into each storage unit that had served as private quarters, he noticed his guys had left behind a lot of their belongings in the hopes that they would have better stuff at the new place. Sure, he knew this wouldn't be the case since the new homes were unfurnished, but he wasn't going to tell them that. This move had given them incentive, something to work toward. Something he could use to keep them in line. Price knew that their future depended on his being able to refocus their energies from raping and violence to rebuilding, and he felt confident he could pull it off.

He also made his rounds out of a sense of nostalgia. Not for the place itself, but for what it represented. Respect. For the first time in his life, Price was someone other than the local thug or the problem case that the police and courts didn't know how to handle. People had always feared him. Now that fear was combined with power, and the combination had earned him the trust and respect of his men. These guys followed him. Sure, part of it came from him letting them do what they wanted to the women in camp. Sometimes you have to allow the boys blow off some steam to let them know you understand where they're coming from. Now that he had their loyalty, he could start making something of himself. Rather than be a small cog in society, he would build that new society. And it wouldn't be a flawed one where the weak flourished at the expense of the strong. That was why mankind couldn't stand up to the deader outbreak. No. His society would be built on strength, like the Old West. When everything had blown over- "Excuse me, sir.

Price turned around to see Carter approaching. "What's up?"

"We're all set to go except for the kitchen. Considering that it's noon, I didn't know if you wanted us to pack that up and head out now or wait until morning."

Price contemplated the idea for a moment. They still had enough time to get to the new location by nightfall if everything played out according to plan. If anything went wrong, they ran the risk of being stranded between camps at night, which could be fatal. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Let's wait until tomorrow. It'll give the guys a chance to rest and give us plenty of daylight to set up in the new place."

"You're the boss."

You're d.a.m.n right I am, thought Price. Soon I'll be the boss of this entire region.

When Carter stuck his head into the kitchen the women were completing the morning clean up. "It's official. We're leaving for the new compound tomorrow morning. So after dinner tonight, pack up everything you won't need for breakfast. That'll make it quicker for you in the morning. Understood?"

"Whatever," Tracey sighed.

Carter stormed into the kitchen. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so he could look into her face. "What'd you say, b.i.t.c.h?"

Tracey cringed. "I said 'yes'."

"That's better."

"I'm sorry."

"You are sorry. And pathetic." Carter whipped his hand to one side, tossing her to the cement. "You better adjust your att.i.tude in the new place or you'll find yourself deader bait."

"Yes, sir."

Carter stormed out, leaving Tracey on her knees sobbing. The other women ignored her, grateful it wasn't them. For Windows, Carter's comment about making Tracey deader bait reinforced her decision to escape before Price moved, which meant she would have to do it tonight.

Windows stepped into the rear of the unit where the food supplies were kept to get a bottle of water. As she pulled one of the last bottles from the package, something caught her eye. A pair of wire cutters had fallen beside the wooden pallet the food had been stored on. One of the gang members must have dropped it when they were breaking down the remaining stock to load for the move. The cutters were only nine inches long and intended for small wires, yet she should be able to use them to get through the chain link fence surrounding the compound. Making certain no one was paying attention, Windows crouched down and moved the cutters so they were hidden between the slats.

She and Cindy would sneak back to the kitchen later tonight to retrieve the cutters and to steal the fifty-five gallon drum, maneuver it against the wall, and use it to climb up and over. She had done the calculations yesterday, and the barrel would give her enough height to hoist Cindy to the top and pull herself over. All she would need was about an hour to make it to the vehicle Lee had told her about. Considering the entire compound would be moving in the morning, she doubted Price would send anyone after her.

At least, she hoped so.

Not that it mattered. Windows knew the two of them would be murdered if they stayed here. At least on the run they had a fighting chance. She had made up her mind.

They would escape once everyone else had settled down for the night.

BOOK THREE.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT.

Natalie lay naked in the sand. Robson knelt over her, wearing only his pants. She enjoyed the way he explored her body. He was slow and gentle, gliding his hands up and down along the outside of her legs, occasionally teasing her by sliding up to her hips, moving over to her inner thighs, and back down. All the while, he never broke eye contact. Their gaze remained locked, which turned her on more than his touch. She reached up, gently clasping his cheeks. He shifted his gaze long enough to kiss the palm of her hand. His blue eyes took her in, cherished her. She saw that they mirrored her own emotions. A twinge of pa.s.sion flashed between Natalie's legs.

Clutching Robson by the hair, Natalie pulled him on top of her. She let out a throaty moan when she felt the bulge in his crotch burning against her. His mouth felt so warm and inviting. She kissed him, running the tip of her tongue along his lips. He groaned and ground against her, sliding across her wet lips. Natalie gasped. She wanted him more than anything. Holding his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes. "I love you."