"Oh." Windows did not know what else to say.

"I spent a lot of time setting up our compound, making sure we had plenty of supplies, and making it secure. It took three months and half a dozen of my men to clean the deaders out of the surrounding area. Now we have to start from scratch thanks to your friends."

"Is that why you destroyed my camp?"

"I admit, my men overreacted when they did that," said Price with a tone of sincerity. "They were taking revenge for what had happened to our own people."

"Why did you let me live?"

"You can thank Meat for that. He made sure the others kept you safe." Price chuckled. "You almost found out why last night."

Windows involuntarily crossed her arms across her chest.

The radio attached to the Wrangler's dashboard crackled and Carter's voice came over the speaker. "We're in place."

Price picked up the microphone. "Thanks. Good hunting."

He shifted the Wrangler into drive and pulled into the field, pushing open the wooden gate. The Liberty Sport followed. Price drove toward the far end of the field. The living dead heard the two vehicles approaching and turned. Spotting the Jeep, they began to lumber forward. Price stopped in the center of the field, and the Liberty Sport pulled up on the driver's side.

Windows stared at the rotters. Though still a few hundred feet away, they were getting too close for comfort. She glanced over at Price. "You said you needed me to help Carter. How?"

"Like it or not, you're now a member of my compound. And everyone who lives on my compound provides some service for the common good, whether you work in the compound or are part of the hunting group."

"Or become a s.e.x slave for your men?"

"I'm not going to lie. There are women on the compound who do that." Price grinned. "You made it clear last night that wasn't how you wanted to contribute."

"Then what do you need me to do?"

"You're going to serve as bait."

Price grabbed Windows by the back of the head and slammed her face into the dashboard. A bolt of pain shot through her when her nose shattered, and she felt blood pouring down across her lips. Something slapped hard across her left wrist. When she raised her head, she saw one end of a pair of handcuffs on her wrist, and Price attaching the other end to the Wrangler's steering wheel.

"What are you doing?" Windows gagged, blood flowing down her throat.

Price grabbed his M&P15-22LR semi-automatic rifle as he climbed out of the Wrangler, and then opened the rear door of the Liberty Sport. "I'm giving you a chance to be useful. The deaders will be attracted by the blood and will swarm you. That'll give Carter a clear shot to take them down. So you better be nice to him."

"What do you mean?"

Price laughed as he climbed into the SUV. "You are f.u.c.king clueless."

When the Liberty Sport drove off, Windows jerked on the handcuffs, with no effect. She tried sliding the other end over her wrist with no success. Price had attached it too tight. Glancing at the ignition, she hoped to find the keys, but Price had taken them. She was trapped out here with a swarm of rotters approaching.

Carter's voice came over the radio. "I hear you did a number on Meat last night."

Windows grabbed the microphone and pressed the talk b.u.t.ton. "The p.r.i.c.k tried to rape."

"He just wanted to be friendly."

"My a.s.s."

"That's what I said. He wanted to be friendly with your a.s.s."

A moan caught Windows' attention. A rotter in a tattered and soiled business suit neared her from the right. As it drew closer and smelled the blood, it became more agitated, rushing toward her in a stumbling gait. When it got to within ten feet, a loud crack emanated from the woods, followed by the squish of a bullet entering its skull. Its head exploded, showering the front of the Wrangler in congealed blood and pieces of skull and brain.

"You know, Meat is a good friend of mine," Carter resumed. "You should be nicer to him."

"You need to choose your friends better."

"Is it really smart to p.i.s.s off the guy who's saving your life?"

Another moan, this time to the left. A rotter in a paramedic uniform, its left arm missing below the elbow, shambled toward the Wrangler. Carter waited until it neared the front fender before taking it down with a head shot. As it dropped, Windows saw another one directly behind it, a little girl in a Sleeping Beauty nightgown. A shot from Carter tore its head clean off, the force of the bullet tossing the tiny body to the left.

"You didn't answer my question," said Carter. "Is it really smart to p.i.s.s off the guy who's saving your life?"

"You can't be serious?"

"I am. It doesn't matter to me whether you make it through this or not." Another shot from the woods caught the head of a naked female rotter. "You should be nicer to me."

"f.u.c.k you!"

Carter chuckled. "That's what I had in mind."

A rotter in a priest's uniform approached the front of the Wrangler. It slammed its hands on the hood and snarled. A second later, its head exploded, creating a cloud of congealed blood and splatter. The body fell forward onto the hood, rested for a moment, and then slid off to the ground.

"Did I just take down a priest?' asked Carter.

"What?" Windows had p.i.s.sed herself.

"I asked if I just took down a priest."

"What does it matter?"

"I want to know."

"I don't...." Windows' fear threatened to overwhelm her. "Yes, you did."

"Good. I hate those motherf.u.c.kers. Got molested by one of them when I was an altar boy."

A rotter in a nurse's scrubs dragging its twisted left leg drew closer, coming around the pa.s.senger side of the Wrangler. Windows waited for Carter to take it down. It got to within five feet before its head exploded. A stream of gore sprayed across the inside of the windshield, some of it catching Windows in the face. She frantically wiped it off with her hand.

"So how are you going to do it?" Carter asked.

"Do what?"

"Be nice to me. You mentioned f.u.c.king me."

"I'd rather die."

"Have it your way."

The radio went silent. Three rotters remained. The closest, wearing a wedding dress no longer white from dirt and gore, had approached to within twenty feet. Close behind shambled a rotter in a sheriff's uniform and another dressed only in slacks and a tattered shirt. She waited for Carter to take them out, but nothing happened. She began tugging again at the handcuffs, even though she knew she couldn't break free. When she looked up, the bride was within ten feet and came around to her side of the Wrangler, with the sheriff following. Tattered shirt rotter circled around on the driver's side. And still the gunshot never came. Her fear was turning into panic.

Raising the microphone to her lips, she yelled, "Carter, are you there?"

No answer.

The rotters were now less than three feet away, and Windows couldn't go anywhere. She used her right leg to lash out at the bride, kicking it in the chest and face. The sheriff moved to the bride's right and leaned over. Windows retched when the stench of decayed flesh and rotting meat vomited from its mouth. She clutched its shirt in her right hand and locked her elbow, holding the living dead in place. To her left, tattered shirt rotter came up alongside the Wrangler and reached for her. Windows batted at it with her left hand.

"You want some help?" Carter asked over the radio.

Windows stopped swiping at tattered shirt rotter long enough to grab the microphone and bring it to her mouth. "Yes!"

With her hand gone, tattered shirt rotter leaned in close. Still holding the microphone, she punched it several times in its decayed face.

"I thought you said you'd rather die than f.u.c.k me," Carter snickered. "Have you changed your mind?"

Windows stopped her attack on the rotter and screamed into the microphone. "I'll f.u.c.k you! I'll suck you! I'll let you do whatever you want to me! Just get them off me!"

"I'm holding you to it, baby."

A second later, a .50 caliber bullet slammed into tattered shirt's skull. Its head vaporized, showering the inside of the Wrangler. Windows screamed, drowning out the moans and snarls of the other two rotters. She didn't hear the gunshot that ripped open the sheriff's skull, but she did feel its corpse drop down on top of her, and the congealed blood that oozed from its neck onto her chest. She didn't realize that Carter had decapitated the bride until her leg pushed the headless body back onto the ground. It ended as quickly as it had started. The only sound came from her whimpering. Windows was vaguely aware of being covered in gore, and of sitting in her own urine.

A minute later, the Liberty Sport approached and parked across from her. Price climbed out and strolled up. Through her tears, she saw he sported a condescending smile. He came over to her, grabbed the sheriff, and pulled it off of her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Windows shook her head. Snot flew from her nose.

"Did any of them bite you? Did you get any of their blood in your mouth?"

"No." She snorted and gagged on her own phlegm.

"Good." Removing keys from his pocket, he leaned across Windows, unlocked the end attached to the steering wheel, and then unlatched them from her wrist. Wiping off the gore with a handkerchief, he slid the handcuffs into his pocket and let the handkerchief drop to the dirt. Placing his hand on her left cheek, he lifted her head until their eyes met. "Are you ready to go back?"

Windows' eyes closed tight and tears flowed at the prospect of being safe.

Price suddenly gripped her mouth tight and slammed her back against the head rest. When she opened her eyes, he leaned into her, his face menacing and mere inches from her own.

"Now listen to me, you little c.u.n.t. You do as you're G.o.dd.a.m.ned told from now on, or next time I won't let Carter save you. Do you f.u.c.king understand me?"

Windows was too scared to answer.

Price slapped her across the cheek hard enough to make her teeth clatter. "Do you?"

Her eyes closed and the tears flowed even heavier. She croaked, "Yes."

"Good. Because tonight we're going to have a victory party, and you're the entertainment."

Clutching Windows by the hair, Price dragged her out of the Wrangler and shoved her into the back of the Liberty Sport.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"I feel like I'm in a war movie," said Josephine as she paddled the four-man inflatable boat across the inlet from South Portland to the downtown area.

Sarah chuckled. "You're a real G.I., Josephine."

Emily leaned forward. "Honey, I'd gladly do this rather than fight rotters."

"If you two don't keep quiet you'll be fighting a whole city of rotters," whispered Ari.

The four Angels stopped talking as they made their way toward the row of marinas in the downtown area. Ari glanced over her shoulder. Clouds obscured the moon, and she could not see the others waiting for them along the banks of South Portland. She knew the rest of the Angels waited with two inflatable boats, all of which had been requisitioned, along with the night vision goggles that each woman wore, after a supply run to the Deerskin Trading Post. Once Ari's team found a working vessel large enough to carry them all, she would radio back to sh.o.r.e, and Natalie would bring the rest of the girls over while Robson provided cover. Once at sea, the Angels would then sail to Omaha. A simple plan, if not insane. Insanity had worked well for them so far, so why mess with a good thing?

When they drew closer to the first marina, Ari pulled the night vision goggles over her eyes and switched them on. She scanned the various boats, hoping to find a yacht or other large craft that could hold all thirteen women and endure the trip. She had several to choose from, and concentrated on those closest to the end of the wharves where there were fewer rotters. The first wharf contained tourist shops and restaurants, with only small pleasure craft tied to its moorings. In the green light of the goggles, she could see hundreds of living dead swarming along its length. Ari raised her forefinger in front of her lips and pointed toward the wharf. The other Angels nodded and silently paddled past.

Not as many rotters were on the next wharf, although there were still way too many for her liking. A fifty-foot yacht sat docked at the end, making the risk worth it. Ari maneuvered the inflatable boat along the port beam, which faced into the bay. She scanned the length of the yacht for any signs of movement and saw nothing, and then the wharf beyond. None of the living dead were aware of their presence, which suited her just fine. They should be able to sneak aboard.

A pair of rotters appeared on the back deck and raced over to the guard rail, snarling at the women. Ari jumped back and nearly shoved Emily out of the boat. Josephine had the presence of mind to use her oar to push the inflatable boat away from the fifty-footer and back out into the inlet. The rotters leaned over the railing, grasping for the Angels as they paddled away. The commotion attracted the attention of those scattered along the wharf, and soon dozens of the living dead shambled toward them. Within minutes, the rotters on the two surrounding wharves had also become agitated, letting out a collective unG.o.dly wail that shattered the silence and followed the Angels back out into the darkness of the inlet.

"I guess that's the end of that," said Josephine. "Should we head back?"

"Not yet," replied Ari.

"Honey, you're not serious about going back there?"

"Not there." Ari pointed ahead of them. "There."

The other Angels looked in the direction Ari referred to. Wharves extended into the inlet all along the coast. About a quarter of a mile to the east, one large wharf jutted out farther than the others. It belonged to the Cas...o...b..y Ferry Terminal. Two smaller piers extended from the main wharf. The car ferry was moored to the first. Tied up to the second was a seventy-five-foot yacht. In the green light of the goggles, the Angels saw only a handful of rotters on the wharf.

"Well I'll be d.a.m.ned," said Sarah.

"You will be if those things catch you," added Josephine.

"Can the chatter," ordered Ari. "And start rowing."

They paddled across the inlet and let the moaning of the living dead recede behind them. Ari scanned the ferry terminal, praying they wouldn't stumble across a horde of the living dead wandering around out of sight. The closer they got, the better their prospects appeared. She counted only five rotters. Even more importantly, the yacht appeared operable. They needed to sneak on board without being detected, make sure the engines worked and the gas tanks were filled, get it started, and slip away before the hordes of the living dead set upon them. No sweat.

Coasting up to its starboard beam, Emily and Sarah used their hands to prevent the inflatable boat from b.u.mping too loudly into the larger vessel's hull, and then hand walked the inflatable boat down to the stern. Stopping before the end of the hull, Ari peered around the corner. The nearest rotter was more than a hundred feet away and walking away from them. The Angels gently paddled around to the stern. Ari turned to the others and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Josephine, once we're on board, move the boat out of sight and wait for us. Warn us via radio if you're spotted. Emily will check out the yacht to see if it's sea worthy. Sarah and I will cover her. Any questions?"

The three women shook their heads.