CHAPTER FIFTY.

When Robson led the convoy through Dover on the way down to Site R, it had been their first foray into a rotter-infested city outside of Kittery. It nearly got the vampires killed and almost derailed the entire mission. Now Dover would be their savior.

Just outside the city limits, DeWitt and Jennifer pulled the two Humvees off to the side of the road and reversed direction.

Caslow stared out the front window. "Are you sure there are rotters here?"

"Trust me."

The bus continued along Route 9 and traveled over the Spaulding Turnpike overpa.s.s. Now the living dead presence became apparent. The headlights illuminated more than a dozen of the living dead meandering along the road, with countless more visible in the shadows. Robson raced past them.

"What are you doing?" Caslow asked. "We just pa.s.sed some."

"Not enough."

"What do you mean?"

Robson nodded his head toward the rear of the bus. "We have to fill the back. It'll take too long here. We're heading into town where they're thickest."

"Screw that. That's not what I signed up for."

"I can let you out here if you want."

"No!"

Robson shot him a withering glance. "Then shut the f.u.c.k up."

The deeper they headed into Dover, the heavier the rotter presence became. Robson noted the streets were more congested, with both abandoned vehicles and the living dead. He also came across a few areas where the convoy had originally plowed their way through on the first trip. The farther in he traveled, the greater the number of rotters and, by consequence, the more attention they brought on themselves. An increasing number emerged from side streets and buildings, attracted by the sound, more than enough around to fill the bus. Robson needed a place where he could park without becoming trapped.

He had driven just under a mile when a strip mall came into view on the right. A hundred rotters shambled around the parking lot. Robson pulled off the main road into the nearest entrance. The engine attracted the living dead and, as one, they closed in on the bus. Pulling to the opposite end of the lot where the numbers were fewer, and from where he could escape, Robson stopped. The horde lumbered toward them. He grabbed the chain attached to the ramp and released it from its mounting. The clanging of metal reverberated through the vehicle, followed by a heavy thud when the ramp dropped.

"You're on," he said to Caslow.

Caslow opened the gate leading to the rear and rushed toward the ramp to stand by the opening. Dead hands clutched at him. Caslow did nothing. Robson cursed to himself. Caslow was supposed to lure them on the bus. Robson unholstered his Colt. If that little p.r.i.c.k chickened out now, Robson would shoot him and let his body serve as bait.

"You'll have to move forward a few feet," Caslow said.

"Why?"

"You dropped the ramp on one of them. The end is a foot off the ground. None of them can get up."

Robson shifted into first gear. The bus lurched forward, pushing aside several rotters that had gathered around the front end. When he heard the clang of metal striking cement, he stopped.

The incessant moaning grew more intense. Robson spun around to see Caslow standing in the center of the entranceway, taunting the living dead. Several converged around the door, clawing against the floor or door jamb to get at him. One or two tried to crawl into the bus. It dawned on Robson that this might not work after all, that he had miscalculated how easy it would be to lure them onto the bus. If he couldn't do that, his entire plan fell apart.

While he was attempting to formulate a new idea, a rotter in a soiled hospital gown staggered onto the end of the ramp. Its balance was precarious, and for a moment it seemed as though it would fall off. The rotter looked around uncertainly and started to turn. Caslow stepped out onto the ramp and stamped his foot. The vibrations caught its attention, and its dead eyes landed on him.

"Meat sack!" Caslow stamped his foot again, coming dangerously close to being grabbed by several pairs of grasping hands. "Come on. There's a hot meal here if you want it."

The rotter snarled. Realizing there was food in the bus, it shuffled up the ramp. Others followed.

"It's working," Caslow called out to Robson.

"Get up here where it's safe."

Caslow ignored him. He stood by the open door, calling out to the living dead. A horde gathered around the back, with scores of hands reaching for him. With all the attention drawn to Caslow, only a few rotters gathered around the front of the bus, which would make their exit easy. When the rotter in the hospital gown reached the top of the ramp, Caslow moved toward the front and hovered a few feet from the gate. Two more climbed the ramp.

"Get your a.s.s up here now!" ordered Robson. "We need time to close the cage."

Caslow raced into the driver's area, slammed the door shut, and dropped the two-by-four between the brackets to lock the door into place. As he finished, a set of fingers thrust through the openings in the rebar, the tips brushing against his face. Caslow yelped and jumped back, stumbling down the exit stairs.

"Relax," said Robson. "They can't get to you."

"Are you sure?"

"If I'm wrong, then we're both f.u.c.ked."

Rotters continued to enter the school bus until it was half filled, those farther in back shoving against the ones already stacked up along the cage. More and more fingers reached through the openings in the rebar, sc.r.a.ping off strips of decayed flesh against the metal. The hospital gown rotter chewed at the metal to get to them, each bite dislodging decayed teeth from rotted gums. The moaning was deafening, although it did not bother Robson as much as the stench and the insects. Jostled about by the pushing and shoving, dozens of flies and a few wasps that fed off of the decayed flesh flew into the front part of the bus and buzzed around his head.

Caslow gagged. "Aren't we ready yet?"

"Not until we're full."

"Do we really need so many?"

"Trust me," Robson swiped his hand in front of his face, providing a momentary reprieve from the insects. "You'll appreciate them soon enough."

Glancing into his rearview mirrors, Robson noticed an increasing number of rotters along the side of the bus, with more gathering near the front fenders. One of them reached the folding exit doors and slapped the gla.s.s, leaving a b.l.o.o.d.y streak along its surface, and making Caslow jump again. Robson checked in back. The rear was more than three quarters full. He would have liked to collect more, but thought better about it. He didn't want to get hemmed in.

Robson shifted into first gear. "Let's go."

"Thank G.o.d."

The school bus lurched forward and stalled. Caslow freaked. "What the f.u.c.k happened? Are we stuck here?"

Robson shifted into first, this time applying more gas to compensate for the extra weight. The bus lurched forward again, and this time the gears caught. It inched across the parking lot, gradually pulling away from the horde. Those rotters still on the ramp fell off, tumbling onto the others around them. The rest staggered after the bus, arms outstretched, grasping at the escaping prey.

"Lift the ramp," Robson ordered.

Caslow grabbed the chain and pulled. Robson maneuvered the bus through the approaching rotters. By the time he reached the main street, he had it in third gear and Caslow had the ramp fully retracted.

Ten minutes later, they met up with the rest of the team outside of Dover. Jennifer and DeWitt walked over when the bus pulled up. Robson opened the folding door, and Caslow ran out, fell to his knees, and puked. A cloud of insects followed him. Jennifer and DeWitt stepped back several paces.

Jennifer placed a hand over her mouth. "Jesus, that smells horrible."

"Try being in here."

"No, thanks."

Robson gestured toward Caslow. "Get him and follow me. You know what to do when we get there."

DeWitt replied, "Roger that."

"See you guys on the other side." Robson closed the door to the school bus and headed for the storage facility outside of Barnston.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE.

Price had made his final round of the facility and was heading back to his office when he heard Carter come up behind him. "Got a minute?"

"Sure. Walk with me." When Carter fell in beside him he asked, "What's up?"

"We're ready to go. Most of the camp will move out right after breakfast. I'll stay behind, oversee the cleaning and loading of the cooking gear, and then take care of the wh.o.r.es."

Price arrived at the door to his office and reached into his pocket for the keys. "What about their cooking skills?" he laughed.

"They cook as bad as they f.u.c.k. Once we get to the new place, I'll train someone else on kitchen detail. Besides, those b.i.t.c.hes have been nothing but trouble. One of them has begun mouthing off to me, so I made sure they'll have a nice going away party. My way of saying thanks. Tomorrow morning, once the others have departed and they're done loading up everything from the kitchen, I'll shoot 'em, including the little brat."

Price unlocked the door and entered his office. "What'll you do with the bodies?"

Carter closed the door behind him. "I'll dump them somewhere along the road on the way to the new compound. I'll tell Meat that we got a flat tire and they ran away while I was fixing it. It won't be a problem. I'll keep him busy with ch.o.r.es until he finds another c.u.n.t to shack up with."

Price sat down behind his desk and offered Carter the chair in front. "What about the Line?"

"We're just going to leave them."

"You're not even going to put them down?

"Why waste the ammo? They'll be dead in a few days."

"Man, I thought I was heartless."

Carter smirked.

"You seem to have everything under control."

"Thank you."

Price reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the half-empty bottle of whiskey. "So let's you and I celebrate by finishing this off."

"With pleasure."

From his position behind a clump of bushes on the hill overlooking the storage facility, Simmons scanned the compound with his night-vision scope. He noticed an unusual lack of activity. In addition to the normal twin guards at the main gate, plus the one who made his rounds through the facility, he saw only two men entering the main office and three women wandering around near the rear of the compound. Good. That would give Robson the element of surprise.

Swinging his sniper rifle to the right, Simmons scanned the far end of the hill looking for Wayans. After a few seconds, he found his friend p.r.o.ne behind a rock formation, using a small boulder for cover. Wayans was examining the compound through his scope, ready to rain down h.e.l.l on the gang.

"What does Price want to see us about?" asked Lisa as they walked to the rape room.

Karen nervously ran her hand through her close-cropped blonde hair. "Did we do something wrong?"

"I don't know any more than you do," Tracey snapped. "Carter said Price wanted to see us and show his appreciation for all we've done."

Lisa was confused. "Then why not call us to his office?"

"Ask him yourself when you see him." The anger in Tracey's voice shut Lisa up. It did nothing to a.s.suage her own concerns. She hoped the move to the new community would also mean a change for the better in their circ.u.mstances. After all, if the guys lived less like animals, maybe they would also act that way. The entire kitchen staff had been talking about it for the past few days. This might actually be a good thing.

Any confidence Tracey had in a better future fell apart when the three women entered the rape room. Most of the gang members stood around drinking beer. Earl looked at Tracey and the others and grinned. "The entertainment's here, guys."

Karen tried to run. A burly guy in a leather Harley Davidson vest who had been standing by the door slammed it shut and blocked it with his body.

"Jake," she pleaded, "please let me go."

"Why, you in a hurry? The party's only beginning."

Two guys stepped up behind Karen, grabbed her by the arms, and dragged her over to the table. They held her down and pinned her shoulders, while two others grabbed her by the legs and ripped off her jeans. Karen screamed and kicked, trying to shove them away, which only made her attackers laugh. A line formed in front of her.

A tall gang member with a beer belly clutched Lisa by the arm and tried to drag her to the table. The teenager lurched free and spit in his face. He punched her in the mouth, breaking Lisa's nose and shattering her two front teeth. The tall gang member clutched the back of her neck and slammed her face down on the end of the table not being used, pinning her there with his left hand while he used his right to unzip and pull down her pants. Lisa offered no resistance.

Seven gang members neared Tracey. She backed up. Someone clutched a handful of her hair, and she saw it was Jake standing beside her. Yanking down, he forced Tracey to her knees. Earl stepped in front of her and unzipped his pants.

"Carter says you have a real dirty mouth, girl. Let's see just how dirty it is."

The three-vehicle convoy raced through Barnston. For the hundredth time since leaving Dover, Jennifer checked her rearview mirror. The school bus maintained a steady pace behind her. She wanted to call Robson on the radio even though he had ordered a strict radio silence to be broken only if they needed to abort. Jennifer refocused her attention back on the main road.

Just north of town, the convoy slowed to make the left turn onto Parade Road. DeWitt pulled his Humvee onto the shoulder and waited, with Jennifer doing the same. Robson slowed the school bus to a crawl and cautiously made the turn, careful not to flip the vehicle because of the excess weight. Once on Parade Road, he picked up speed and drove past. According to the plan, they couldn't follow for another three minutes. Knowing what Robson was about to do, those would be the longest three minutes of her life.

Jennifer watched the bus' taillights until they disappeared.

Lee fought back his tears. He knew he would never see Windows or little Cindy again because of how she acted when she had fed him dinner. She had a sad tenderness to the way she cared for him, the way she chatted with him, the way she held his cheek for a few extra seconds when she wiped his mouth. What cinched it was the hug she gave him just before she left, a gesture she had never done before, and that confirmed she would be making her escape tonight. He was happy for Windows, and prayed she and Cindy would make it.