Robson shook his head. "We lost a lot of good people retrieving the vaccine. You have to get it to the government-in-exile."

"I want to stay with y... I mean, the group needs to stick together," Natalie said.

Reaching out, he slid his hand over Natalie's and squeezed. "I don't want to be separated either. But the Angels have lost their edge. They couldn't even form a perimeter defense last night. I can't rely on them to deal with rotters."

Natalie averted her gaze. "I let you down."

"No, you didn't. Considering what the Angels have gone through, I can't blame them for cracking. It's only natural. I need a team in top form for what we have to do next."

"Which is?" she asked.

"We're going to rescue Windows."

"Now you're the one who's cracked," said DeWitt. "How many gang members are there?"

"About thirty."

"Thirty?" DeWitt shook his head in frustration. "So the five of us are going to take on a gang of thirty by ourselves?"

"There'll be eight of us. We have Jennifer, Dravko, and Tibor."

"That's not the f.u.c.king point. You yourself said me and the others are useless. Yet you want us to go into combat with you to save Windows?"

"I never said you were useless." Lowering his voice, Robson tried to calm down DeWitt. "I said you were untrained. We can work around that."

"Don't bulls.h.i.t me. It took the Angels months to become as good as they are now. You don't have the time to train us."

"We can work around that too."

"No, you f.u.c.king can't," spat DeWitt. "We don't have what it takes to be like you and Natalie. It's why none of us joined your teams. If you take us into battle, we're as good as dead."

"So what do you suggest?"

"That we go with the Angels to Omaha and get as far away from here as possible," DeWitt said.

"What about Windows?"

"We leave her. I know that sounds cruel, but how bad can it be for her?"

Natalie motioned toward the Angels asleep around the campfire. "Maybe you should ask Amy, Josephine, and Sarah."

Naming the Angels who had been victims of rape gangs before finding their way to the camp had the desired effect. DeWitt nodded. "You're the boss. We'll do what you tell us to." Without waiting for a reply, he stood and wandered off into the darkness.

Robson waited until DeWitt was out of earshot before nodding at Natalie. "Thanks for mentioning the girls. That put things into perspective for him."

"No problem," Natalie said. "At the risk of sounding defeatist, how do you expect us to get to Omaha? Even if my girls were in top form, that's halfway across the country, way too far for us to drive."

Robson grinned. "Who said anything about driving?"

CHAPTER SIX.

Windows sat in the corner of the storage unit, resting her head and back against the walls. It was the only way she could get comfortable because the room contained no furnishings other than a small wooden table. She couldn't sleep, though. Her captors had shoved her into this unit after arriving back at the storage facility last night, and no one had bothered with her since. Though Windows had no idea what to expect, based on what had happened at camp, she antic.i.p.ated the worst.

The events of the past twenty-four hours had happened so fast, she barely remembered how things went down. Those images she could recall had been burned into her mind. The attack took place with such ferocity the camp had little time to respond. Within minutes, the gang murdered the motor pool crew, ripped open the main gate, and stormed the compound. The situation deteriorated rapidly after that. The gang had rounded up everyone in front of the blockhouse, with Paul trying to talk to their leader to calm the situation. Then this crazy kid ran up ranting about there being vampires in camp just like he had said. She a.s.sumed that somehow the gang had run across Robson's team, with bad results. When a gruff, burly member of the group dragged her away from the others, Windows thought she would be raped. She almost would have preferred that to watching everyone else in camp being gunned down and her home ransacked and torched.

Arriving at the storage facility the gang used as their compound did nothing to boost her confidence, especially when she saw their defense system. They had erected a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire thirty feet away from, and running parallel to, the facility's stone wall. At forty-foot intervals between the fence and the wall, men and women had been chained to stakes hammered into the ground with nothing more than blankets to protect them against the elements. At first, Windows worried that this would be her fate, then thought better about it. If the gang wanted to bolster the perimeter defense, they would have taken more people than just her. She feared they had different plans for her.

Windows considered herself attractive, having a slim body and a cute face like any twenty-two-year-old girl. She also had a shy, nerdy side to her, and as such cut her blonde hair in a short bob and wore librarian-style gla.s.ses. When it came to looks, she could not compete with any of the other women in camp, especially the Angels. That would not help her here, though. From what she saw of this bunch, none of them seemed fussy.

The clanking of metal as someone unlocked the door caught Windows' attention. Every muscle in her body tensed. At first, she thought of making a break for it when the door opened, quickly ruling it out. She would get only a few feet before her captors caught her, and then she'd have to face their anger. She decided to play the next few minutes by ear. Windows stood and brushed down her clothes, not wanting them to find her in a submissive position.

When the door rolled up it revealed two men standing there. The shorter of the two, the one raising the door, wore a leather bombardier jacket and carried a hunting rifle strapped over his shoulder. The other was the burly guy who had pulled her out of line back at camp. She finally got a good look at him. He stood just over six feet, about thirty pounds overweight, and sported a bushy blond beard and long hair, like a caricature of a hillbilly. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt that had seen better days. The hillbilly carried a blue plastic tray of food. Windows inhaled. She could smell the aroma of hot food, and it made her mouth water.

The hillbilly entered the unit and crossed over to the table, placing the tray down on it. His companion closed the door again, remaining outside.

"Hi. My name is Duane. My friends all call me Meat."

"h.e.l.lo."

"Ya must be hungry." He smiled. It looked friendly enough. "I brought ya dinner."

She approached cautiously. "What is it?"

"Bacon and eggs. We took it from ya camp, so the least we can do is share it with ya."

Windows moved closer to the table. Taking the metal fork, she scooped some of the eggs and sniffed them.

"Jesus Christ, girl. I ain't tryin' to poison ya. If we was gonna kill ya we wouldn't have brought ya back here."

Windows placed the eggs in her mouth and nearly moaned. She hadn't eaten in G.o.d knew how long, and these tasted pretty good. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Thank you."

"Oh, ya gonna thank me good."

From behind her, Windows could hear the sound of a zipper being undone. She spun around as Meat dropped his jeans, and her eyes went wide. Now she understood his nickname. A c.o.c.k at least ten inches long and three inches thick stuck out from his underpants.

"Why don't ya give me some head for bringin' ya dinner?"

"f.u.c.k you!" she yelled.

"Fine by me as long as I get off."

Windows turned to run and banged into the wooden table. Before she could move, Meat came up behind her. His left hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed her forward, bending her over the table until her face pressed against the surface. His right hand grabbed the back of her jeans and started to yank them down. She could feel his erection pressing against her. Instead of struggling to break free, she fought back the panic threatening to overwhelm her. She felt around the table until her fingers brushed against the plastic tray and, finding the metal fork, she clutched it in her right hand and swung back as hard as she could.

"f.u.c.k!" Meat released his grip and moved away.

Windows spun around. She had plunged the fork into his crotch. Blood poured over the p.r.o.ngs and down his leg, and his erection had started to go limp. Meat grabbed the fork and yanked it out.

"Ya f.u.c.kin' cu-"

Windows drove the edge of the tray into his face with such force that the plastic shattered. One shard sliced across his cheek and forehead, barely missing his eye and opening a five-inch laceration that began dripping blood. Meat covered his face with both hands and turned to run, but tripped over the jeans drooped around his ankles and fell forward, hitting the ground hard. Windows rushed forward and began jabbing the sharp end of the broken plastic tray into his back. He writhed around on the floor to ward off the blows.

The door to the unit slid open and three men entered. The captor in the leather bomber jacket rushed over to Windows and used his hunting rifle to push her off of Meat and into the corner. The second man, who wore a camouflage jacket and carried a double barrel shotgun, knelt beside Meat and helped him up. Windows still held the b.l.o.o.d.y shard of plastic in her hand and brandished it like a knife, ready to defend herself, her eyes darting between each of the four men. The guy in the leather jacket aimed his rifle at her.

"Enough."

The command came from the third person to enter the room, who seemed more civilized than the others. He stood at nearly six feet tall, with a clean-shaven face and neatly-cut blond hair. Both his clothes and his mannerism bespoke of a level of sophistication she had not seen within this group. He wore black jeans and a black cotton shirt, both of which, while worn, were clean and pressed. Placing his hand on the barrel of the hunting rifle, he pointed its aim toward the floor and focused his attention on Windows.

"Drop the tray."

Windows clutched it tighter and moved it closer to her chest.

"Miss, I could easily have my men beat the s.h.i.t out of you and take it from you. I'd rather do this without anyone else getting hurt. Now, please, drop the tray."

Knowing one way or the other they would disarm her, she tossed the plastic shard onto the wooden table and waited for the inevitable.

The man in black gestured to his two companions and nodded to Meat. "Take him to the infirmary and have Jane patch his wounds. Make sure he doesn't leave there until I've been by to talk to him."

"Yes, sir." The two men lifted Meat by the shoulders and dragged him to the exit, leaving a trail of blood behind.

The man in black offered his hand to Windows. "I'm Andrew Price, leader of this group."

She ignored the gesture. "You're the leader of a gang of murderers and rapists."

Price lowered his hand. "You mean what my men did to your compound?"

"That, yes. And what almost just happened to me."

"It's not easy keeping these guys under control, especially in a world where there are no longer any rules."

"What the f.u.c.k is this place?" Windows demanded. "What are you planning on doing with me?"

Price stepped over to the door and banged his knuckles against it three times. Someone on the other side raised it, and he turned back to Windows. "I'll have one of the girls bring you something else to eat and a sleeping bag. Get a good night's sleep."

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow you're going with us on a deader hunt. I'll explain everything to you then." Price exited the unit and motioned to one of his men, who closed the door.

Windows watched him leave, not quite sure what had happened or what to expect tomorrow.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

The four-vehicle convoy departed the storage facility and headed north along Route 28. Windows noted the vehicles were the same ones that had raided her camp a few days previous: a white Jeep Liberty Sport, a military-style Humvee, a black Hummer H3, and a green Jeep Wrangler with the top removed. Price drove the Wrangler and led the way, with Windows riding shotgun. Four men traveled in the military-style Humvee. Each of the other vehicles carried two heavily-armed men.

She still felt apprehensive about her situation, though not as much as she did last night. So far, Price had kept his word. No one had tried to hurt her after she whaled the s.h.i.t out of Meat. The only visitor had been a woman who brought Windows dinner. She a.s.sumed the woman to be about thirty, although her hollow expression and sallow skin made her appear much older. Windows had tried to talk to the woman who refused to answer, constantly shifting her gaze to the open door as if afraid someone would hear her if she spoke. The woman stayed long enough to drop off the tray and rushed out. She had been the last visitor until Price and his men came to get her.

At least the weather made her feel more optimistic. It was a beautiful autumn morning, with a warm sun and an almost cloudless sky. The surrounding countryside contained only woods and wildlife. It had been months since she had left the confines of Fort McClary. She found it refreshing to see the outside world, even if deep down she knew rotters infested it. This would have been a pleasant ride if she hadn't been a prisoner.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"There." Price pointed to a white wooden fence along the right side of the road a hundred feet ahead of them. He stopped the Wrangler near a gate, and the other vehicles pulled in behind him. A tall man climbed out of the Humvee and approached the Jeep. Windows saw him in the side mirror. He stood over six feet tall, with a lean yet muscular body. He had close-cropped dark hair and a well-groomed beard and mustache. Though physically attractive, something about his sneer, the glare in his blue eyes, and his demeanor gave him a menacing aura. He approached the Wrangler from her side, and Windows felt a shiver race down her spine.

Price turned in his seat to face the man. "This is Greg Carter. He's our resident sniper."

Carter lifted his hand to the rim of his baseball cap with the NRA logo on it and tugged. "Pleasure to meet you."

His smile left an emptiness in the pit of Windows' stomach.

"You're going to be helping him out today," said Price.

"How?"

Price ignored the question and directed his comments at Carter. "Are you all set?"

"Give me five minutes to set up," said Carter.

"What's that?" she asked.

Carter raised the weapon. "It's a Macmillan TAC-50 .50 caliber long range sniper rifle. Best little weap-"

"Radio me when you're ready," Price interrupted him.

Carter smiled and walked off. The other three men from the Humvee joined him. They made their way down to the trees bordering the right-hand side of the field and disappeared into the woods.

Price tapped Windows on the shoulder to get her attention and, when she looked, pointed to the field. "See out there?"

Windows followed his line of sight. She noticed eight rotters shambling around at the far end of the field. "Yeah."

"Your friends are responsible for that."

"My friends?"

"The ones who came through here about two weeks ago and murdered my men. Their convoy must have gone through the area like a bat out of h.e.l.l. Drew the attention of every deader around. Even after your friends were long gone, these things continued to follow them. Every day for the past week we've had to comb the area and clean up their mess before these things make it to our place."