"We can't rule it out. If they make it back to their camp and find it wiped out, they'll probably figure out we were involved and try to get revenge. f.u.c.k, I know I would."

"Do you want me to send a scouting party back to their camp and watch out for them?"

"No," said Price. "It's too risky. Chances are if the survivors don't kill our people, the deaders will. We can't afford to send enough men to keep the scouting party safe."

"I could put skirmishers around the perimeter and set up roadblocks."

Price stared off to the west to where a hill overlooked the storage facility. He studied the high ground for a few seconds and shook his head. For the first time since taking over this compound, he felt nervous about their safety. "If there are vampires in their group, they'll take out anyone you post outside the compound before we can be warned."

"Well, we have that cherry picker we found here when we took over the place. I could put it at one end of the compound and post guards on it."

"You mean a makeshift watchtower?"

Carter nodded. "We have those night vision goggles we took off that National Guard unit we ambushed a few months ago. It would give us an edge."

"Do it." Price opened the door to his office and stepped inside, waving for Carter to follow him. "However, we have a bigger problem than this raiding party and its vampire pets. We have an internal threat."

"What do you mean?"

"Close the door." Price leaned his M&P15-22LR against the wall. He dropped into his chair, pulled out a drawer, and propped his feet on it. When Carter sat opposite him, Price continued. "Half of this compound poses a threat to us."

"I haven't heard any dissatisfaction from the men."

"Not them. They're loyal. I'm talking about those on the Line and the wh.o.r.es we're keeping here."

Carter looked confused. "You don't think they'll rise up against us?"

"Not on their own. They're too beaten down. And I doubt most of those on the Line would have the energy. But if that renegade patrol comes after us, I don't rule out the possibility that some of these people might take up arms against us. We'd then be facing a threat from inside as well as out, and we could find ourselves outnumbered. If that happens, we'll need to even the odds."

"What are you suggesting?"

"It's more of an order than a suggestion." Price pointed a finger at Carter. "I want you to develop a contingency plan to murder everyone on the Line and all the wh.o.r.es in the compound if we come under attack."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The medication seemed to be working. After they had set sail from Portland, Bethany had moaned for several hours before finally drifting off to sleep. Natalie stroked her hair. Bethany's wound was worse than they had first thought. The rotter had not only bitten deeply into her cheek, it had sc.r.a.ped away parts of her gum, exposing the teeth.

Natalie had volunteered to sit with Bethany for a while longer when most of the other Angels left to find a place to bunk down, leaving Emily topside to teach Ari and Josephine how to operate the yacht. Natalie had told the others she wanted to sit with Bethany in case Bethany woke up and needed anything. In truth, the situation scared her and she wanted to hide her fear from the others. Acquiring the vaccine to the Zombie Virus meant the outbreak entered a different phase. Prior to this, even the smallest bite meant a death sentence for the victim, leaving the only questions as when and how to put them down. With the Angels now immunized, even several bites would no longer condemn them to turn into a rotter. However, that brought with it a host of other, vastly more complicated issues. In Bethany's case, how were they to treat a ma.s.sive wound without the necessary medical facilities, especially large-scale trauma that would leave a disfiguring scar when it healed?

If it healed.

A knock sounded on the door. "Come in," she said softly.

Josephine stuck her head inside. "Sorry to bother you. We need you topside."

"Is everything okay?" she asked nervously.

"Yes, but you need to see this."

Natalie followed Josephine out of the room and up to the bridge. Once she was topside, she saw Logan International Airport, which she recognized by the twin supports of the air traffic control tower, a mile to their rear. The two women climbed the ladder to the flying bridge. Ari manned the helm, and every few seconds she glanced to the left in the same direction as Emily. Natalie made her way to the port beam and stood beside Emily.

"What do you see?"

"The ninth circle of h.e.l.l, honey."

Natalie followed their gaze and gasped.

Boston stretched out in front of them. She had made enough trips to the city to be familiar with the skyline, and felt a mixture of shock and despair over how significantly the outbreak had changed it. Two miles in the distance in the Back Bay area, the most iconic landmark, the sixty-story John Hanc.o.c.k Tower, was literally a sh.e.l.l of its former self. The sun had risen over an hour ago, bathing the city in warm light; however, the reflection on the Hanc.o.c.k's all-gla.s.s faade appeared disjointed because half the panels were missing, giving the impression of a partially-finished jigsaw puzzle. Its neighboring structure, the fifty-two-story Prudential Tower, no longer existed. Only wisps of white smoke marked the location where the building once stood, more than likely from fires still burning underneath the debris. Glancing toward the bow, she saw the remains of the Tobin Bridge, which connected Boston to the North Sh.o.r.e. The eight-hundred-foot-long, double-deck center span was gone, leaving only the on ramps and the twisted steel girders of the cantilever trusses mounted atop the cement supports.

The devastation of the skyline couldn't compare to the carnage that existed along the waterfront. The Boston Harbor Hotel had been gutted by fire, with streaks of black extending from shattered windows along the seafront faade. Less than one hundred feet from Rowes' Wharf, the top deck of a Boston Harbor cruise ship stuck out of the water at a slight angle, surrounded for hundreds of feet on either side by a virtual forest of masts and antennas from sunken sailboats and pleasure crafts. A few boats still remained tied to the pier. Natalie could see that every wharf and harbor-front street swarmed with thousands of the living dead. She didn't even want to think about the nightmare that had befallen those who had rushed to the harbor seeking safety.

As they cruised past, the horde of rotters spotted the vessel. Like a wave, the living dead pressed forward, dozens being shoved off the wharves to splash into the harbor. Even from this distance, their moans sounded deafening. Natalie felt fear start in the pit of her stomach and spread along her spine.

"How the f.u.c.k did we get here?" she barked at Ari. "Did you get lost?"

"N-No. I...."

"Don't blame her, honey. Since it wasn't that far inland from our route, I thought maybe we could find a place to refuel."

Natalie looked again at the waterfront. Even more of the rotters dropped into the harbor.

What if those f.u.c.king things can swim?

"Head back to the coast," Natalie ordered. "It's too dangerous here."

"Aye, aye, Captain," said Emily, trying to lighten the mood. She stepped up to the wheel and tapped Ari on the shoulder. "I'll take over for a while."

"Thanks."

Emily turned the yacht into a tight U-turn that brought it close to the waterfront. The horde burst into a full frenzy. The yacht maneuvered close enough to sh.o.r.e that she not only could smell the stench of thousands of decayed bodies, but could start to make out individual rotters in the crowd. Only when the vessel had pa.s.sed Castle Island and returned safely to the outer harbor did she take her eyes off sh.o.r.e.

Ari stood beside her, her head bowed like a chastised child. Natalie placed an arm around her shoulder. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ari smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"That's my fault," said Emily.

"You're right that we need to find fuel," Natalie replied. "We just need to be more careful about where."

"There should be a lot of more isolated places where we can refuel. I just hope others didn't have the same idea."

Natalie gave a final glance toward Boston. "If what we saw back there is any indication of what we'll find up and down the coast, I doubt we'll see many survivors out here."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Robson's team had been traveling the better part of a day searching for a new, secure location to serve as their base. After making certain the Angels had gotten safely on their way, Robson led the convoy back to Kittery and then retraced the original route they had taken to get to Site R. The journey led them along the east bank of the Piscataqua River, where they eventually crossed over into New Hampshire through rotter-infested Dover. Once clear of the city, they made their way west, stopping only once before dawn to allow Dravko and Tibor to switch to the back of the Ryder before continuing. Thirty minutes after sunrise, the convoy entered Barnston.

Robson stopped on the western outskirts of town and picked up the microphone to his radio. "Heads up, people. We're not far from the spot where the rape gang ambushed us."

"I hope you're not planning on setting up camp here," DeWitt responded.

"I want to put a few more miles between us and them. I'm just getting my bearings. Hang tight, and keep your eyes open."

Robson looked over at Jennifer, who had the map spread across her knees. "What do you got?"

"Up ahead to the left is Parade Road, which is where we were camped when those a.s.sholes attacked. Just beyond that is Sunc.o.c.k Valley Road. I suggest we take that north and see what we can find."

"Sounds good to me." Robson continued on until he reached Sunc.o.c.k Valley Road and turned right. Trees lined both sides of the road, casting the area in shadows. Robson drove cautiously, half expecting to run into a roadblock set up by the rape gang. Every few seconds, his eyes glanced to the rearview mirror to make sure no one followed them. He remembered the first time they came through this territory, how peaceful and serene he found it, and how he would like to have settled down here one day if this outbreak could ever be brought under control. This time, every nerve remained on edge because he knew too well that a danger lurked in these woods greater than any rotter they could encounter.

"We should be coming to the residential community of Locke Lake any minute," said Jennifer, her concentration still focused on the map.

"You mean the former residential community," replied Robson.

"I don't under...." Jennifer's voice trailed off when she saw what he referred to.

The remnants of the town sat off to their right. Every home they could see had been ransacked, with furniture and clothing spread across the front lawns. The windows on each home had been smashed and the doors torn from their hinges. A few had been torched. Even the vehicles had suffered the same fate, with every one of them having been stripped of tires and, judging by the open gas caps, siphoned of fuel before being set ablaze. Most disturbing of all, bodies lay strewn throughout the area. At first, Robson thought they were rotters, until he drove past a group lying near the road. Though the corpses had decayed, they wore clothes in relatively good condition, something not found on the living dead. None of them seemed to have experienced head trauma. It dawned on him that these were the local citizens gunned down and left to rot.

Jennifer took a deep breath and shuddered. "None of them are women or children. That's a good sign."

"No it isn't. It means the residents of this town are probably manning the gang's outer perimeter."

The convoy approached a crossroads. The sign on the left spur read North Road. Robson pointed to it. "Where does that take us?"

"Hang on a minute." Jennifer consulted the map. "There's a small town named Gilmanton about three miles down."

"It's good enough for me. At least it's away from here." Slowing the Humvee, he veered left onto North Road and accelerated, making sure the others followed.

The road appeared as if it had not been traveled for several months. After less than ten minutes of driving, the convoy entered the outskirts of Gilmanton. The town consisted of fewer than twenty buildings, with a single street bisecting the main thoroughfare. A general store and post office sat off to the left, with private residences on the right. Two hundred feet farther down, the spire of the local church stood above the tree line. The area looked serene and untouched. None of the buildings were ransacked, like in Locke Lake. The only indication that the area had undergone a living dead apocalypse came from half a dozen rotter corpses littering the center of town, each felled with a clean shot to the head. For Robson, the place seemed as good as any, so he pulled into the parking lot of the general store.

He stepped out of the Humvee, and DeWitt joined him. "Is this where we're setting up camp?"

"This town is as good a place as any. It doesn't appear that anyone has bothered with it, rotters aren't a concern, and it's far enough off the beaten path that we shouldn't have to worry about the rape gang finding us. Just in case I'm wrong...." Robson stepped into the street and pointed to the building they had pa.s.sed on the way in, the one that read Gilmanton Iron Works Construction, "there's a couple of garage bays in that building. We can park the Humvees in there to keep them out of sight."

"What about the Ryder?"

"Pull it around back. If anyone drives by, I doubt they'll even notice it."

"We'll take care of it, and we'll make sure the building is clear of rotters."

"Good. Jennifer and I will check out the general store. Call on the radio if you need back up."

"Gotcha."

After DeWitt walked away and called the others together, Robson motioned for Jennifer to join him and headed for the general store. He stepped up onto the front porch and peered through the window, scanning the aisles. He couldn't detect any movement.

"See anything?" Jennifer asked.

"Nope." He rapped on the gla.s.s several times, but still saw no signs movement.

"That's good."

"Remember what happened last time we went into a convenience store we thought was free of rotters."

"I'd rather forget that, thanks." Jennifer withdrew her .357 Magnum and grabbed the door handle. "Ladies first?"

"Be my guest," replied Robson, clutching his AA-12.

Jennifer opened the door and leaned in. "Is anyone in here?"

Silence. Jennifer stepped inside, her Magnum raised and ready to fire, and moved along the front of the store, peering down each aisle as she pa.s.sed it. Robson followed to her right. When they reached the wall, he moved down the aisle to the back of the store, checking for danger. The store was empty.

Lowering the shotgun, he yelled out, "Clear!"

"Are we going to check out the back room?"

"Not yet. I want back up before we do."

Robson walked down the second aisle. All the shelves had been emptied, but not from looting because no debris lay scattered across the floor. The only items not taken, such as household goods, remained neatly stacked.

"Did you find anything?" called Jennifer from one aisle over.

"Just toilet bowl and gla.s.s cleaner."

"Nothing here, either."