Rotter World: Rotter Nation Part 35

Natalie reached out for Sarah, but Amy held her back. She watched helplessly as her friend plummeted through the air and crashed into the water, creating a small geyser in her final resting place.

Amy nudged her. "Come on. We have to go."

Without a word, Natalie raced off to join the others.

Stephanie followed a few paces behind Duncan. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Natalie and the others were all right. A pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her toward the inner guard rail. A rotter in a fire fighter's coat was pulling down on her, threatening to topple her onto the highway portion of the bridge. Half a dozen other living dead closed in from different angles. With her right hand, she punched the rotter in the face. Since it felt no pain, it didn't release its grip.

Stephanie heard a burst of gunfire and felt a splatter of gore across her face. A second pair of hands grabbed her by the collar. Rather than drag her into the horde, it yanked her back onto the walkway. Ari held her by the collar, and Josephine stood to her left, firing into the horde.

"You okay?" Ari asked.

Stephanie nodded. "Thanks."

"Don't ment-"

"f.u.c.k."

The Angels turned to see what Duncan was swearing about. Swarms of living dead pressed along the guardrail. Even more filled the s.p.a.ces between the vehicles. In several places, the ma.s.s pushed those closest to the guardrail over the top and onto the pedestrian walkway, where they crawled to their feet. Within a few seconds, a dozen rotters converged on them from both sides.

"Should we make a run for it?" Josephine asked.

"We'll be swarmed before we make it a hundred feet," Stephanie responded.

"We need maneuvering room if we're going to get out of here," Duncan said. "Have you ever been in a running gun battle?"

The Angels shook their heads.

"You're about to be."

Duncan scanned the area. Ten feet down sat a Dodge Ram parked close to the outer lane. He ran down and vaulted over the guardrail into the bed of the pick-up. A dozen rotters grasped for him. He stayed far enough away that they couldn't reach him and waved for the Angels to follow. Stephanie joined him in the bed.

"What do we do?"

"Make your way to sh.o.r.e by going from car roof to car roof."

"You're joking," she said.

"If any of you have a better idea, now's the time to let me know." Duncan climbed up onto the roof of the Dodge and hopped over onto the roof of a Prius. The horde turned to follow him. He raced off the Prius, jumped the gap onto the hood of a BMW, and stopped on its roof. Twenty sets of dead hands clutched at him.

"Just keep going and make sure of your footing before you jump," he called back. "And don't shoot them unless you need to clear a path." When none of the women moved, he prodded, "Go! Now!"

Stephanie followed Duncan's path to the Prius. From there, she continued straight ahead, jumping onto the roof of a Forester and then again onto the roof of a Camry. Most of the rotters turned their attention to her.

"Come on," Ari said, tapping Josephine on the shoulder. "Now's our chance."

There were at least thirty rotters on the walkway in front of Natalie and Amy, with the number increasing by the second. Duncan led the other Angels onto a pick-up truck and into traffic. She and Amy found a Charger that had swerved left, the hood at an angle to the lane and flush with the guardrail. A single rotter stood in the apex of the angle. She fired one round into its face, dropping it. With the path clear, she and Amy vaulted onto the Charger, up onto the roof, and split off to separate vehicles.

None of the rotters spotted Batchelder, Sandy, or Doreen, partly because the team stayed low and quiet, and partly because the attention of the living dead was drawn to commotion near where the bridge had collapsed. By the time the others had moved onto the highway portion of the bridge, Batchelder and the Angels had pa.s.sed the southern tower and were less than two thousand feet from sh.o.r.e.

Duncan led the way, bounding from vehicle to vehicle, pausing just long enough to make certain of his footing, and occasionally to turn around to check on the others. He pre-planned his next three or four moves, wanting to make certain he didn't trap himself and have to fight a last stand against the living dead from the roof of a Mini Cooper. The horde grew thicker, the living dead shoving their way between the vehicles to get at him. If one blocked his way, he would shoot it in the head and jump over the corpse. Never did he stay on any vehicle more than four seconds.

Stephanie followed Duncan, reasoning that he would find the best path to safety. That plan worked for about a minute before she realized that rotters swarmed around him and, as he made his way from car to car, he left the ma.s.s of living dead in his wake. Since Duncan made his way straight down the center of the abandoned vehicles, she veered to the left. For a few minutes the strategy worked, then the rotters from the un.o.bstructed lanes moved toward her, forming several rows along the line of traffic and pus.h.i.+ng their way through the vehicles. Stephanie was about to be surrounded.

She emptied an entire magazine into the heads of the rotters to her left, clearing a path of escape. Jumping off the car onto the un.o.bstructed lanes of highway, she wove her way through the horde and hurdled the guardrail onto the eastern pedestrian walkway. Over a hundred rotters stumbled after her. Knowing she only had a minute at best, she broke into a run and headed for sh.o.r.e.

Ari stayed to the right, following the vehicles lined up closest to the western pedestrian walkway. There were fewer of the living dead here, most having turned back to go after Duncan and Stephanie. Carrying the backpack with the vaccine slowed her down, forcing her to spend more time on each vehicle. The delays gave the rotters a chance to gather around. s.h.i.+fting to the left, she jumped onto a Hyundai that Duncan had pa.s.sed over earlier, turned right, and hopped over a rotter corpse onto the hood of an Outback. Because of the brains and blood splattered on the hood, Ari slipped. Her legs went out from under her, and she smashed chest first onto the winds.h.i.+eld.

Half a dozen rotters descended on her. Ari tried to get up, but four sets of hands grabbed at her legs, making it impossible to get her footing. She kicked and thrashed, reaching out for the roof rack, hoping to pull herself to safety. Her fingers clasped around it, and she pulled herself up. Suddenly, a pair of dead fingers grabbed her hand. Teeth dug into her knuckles, piercing the skin and muscles and grinding against the bone. Ari yanked her hand back, tearing away a chunk of flesh. Another set of hands grabbed her backpack, trying to rip its way through the material to get to her. The hands around her legs threatened to pull her off the hood.

Gunfire cut off Ari's screams. When she felt the hands release her legs, she kicked away. Another shot, and the rotter pulling on the backpack let go. Ari scrambled up onto the roof. One by one, the rotters attacking her were taken down by headshots. Josephine stood on the next car over. She popped out the empty magazine and, as she replaced it, smiled at her friend. The two women made their way forward in tandem, slowly but steadily.

Natalie and Amy found themselves at a disadvantage. The commotion the others made advancing along the line of traffic had drawn the rotters between the vehicles, blocking their path. The two women would jump to a vehicle, choose which direction they wanted to go, and then clear the way with their weapons before moving to the next. To do this, they had to expend ammunition, which in turn attracted more of the living dead. Within minutes, they fell behind the others and were in danger of being surrounded.

Natalie called out to Amy, "Follow me."

Making her way to the outer lane of vehicles, Natalie headed for an eighteen-wheeler. She made the jump to the bed of a pick-up truck in front of the rig and waited until Amy joined her. She shot the three rotters between them and the rig.

"Jump!" she ordered.

Amy did not hesitate. She leaped off the bed, covered the few feet between vehicles, and landed on the truck's left fender. Getting her footing, she scrambled up onto the hood. Natalie made the same jump. When she landed on the fender, her right foot slipped and she fell on her left hip. The fall gave the closest rotters a chance to grab hold of her leg. Natalie tried to kick away. When she rolled over, she saw three of the living dead trying to bite her or pull her into the horde. Natalie reached up and grabbed the side mirror mount as more rotters approached. From the hood, Amy fired three three-round bursts into the head of those rotters holding Natalie, and then grabbed Natalie's hand and lifted her up onto the hood seconds before another five of the living dead descended on the fender.

The two women scurried onto the roof of the truck and made the leap onto the semi-trailer. They raced to the end, hoping to make their escape. Instead, they had come upon a dead end. A Harley Davidson motorcycle sat directly behind the trailer and, to the left of the truck, was an SUV with luggage attached to the roof rack as well as a VW Beetle. They could not jump to any of these vehicles without seriously injuring themselves, which would be a death sentence since dozens of rotters already swarmed around the truck, with a hundred more closing in from all sides. Glancing back over her shoulder, the way they had come had been cut off.

"What now?" Amy asked.

"Shoot as many as we can with what little ammo we have, and then hope for the best."

Stephanie had made it only a thousand feet when enough rotters had fallen over the guardrail to block her path. More than a dozen closed in on either side, with too many more beyond that to allow her to escape even if she could push her way past these. Stephanie contemplated whether to die fighting or spare herself and jump. From out of nowhere, a loudspeaker cut through the moaning of the living dead.

"Drop to the ground now."

Stephanie did as ordered. A second later, she heard a metallic whir similar to a blender being turned on, followed by a steady stream of gunfire that lasted five seconds. Something rained down on her back. When the shooting stopped, she lifted her head. Small chunks of rotter lay scattered on her and across the pedestrian walkway. Not a single living dead remained standing. Vehicles drove past her as well as a dozen soldiers rus.h.i.+ng in her direction. Stephanie remained still, not wanting to appear to be a threat. The soldiers came up to her, most forming a circle around her. Their leader, a young Hispanic woman, asked, "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"I am now."

Ari and Josephine continued their forward advance when they heard the sound of motors followed by the roar of gunfire. A line of Bradley fighting vehicles moved past, chain guns mowing down a horde of rotters on the eastern pedestrian walkway. The women had no idea what to make of this until they saw Duncan jumping up and down on the hood, waving his arms. Three twelve-man squads broke away from the main group, one heading for Duncan and the other two for Ari and Josephine. The squads fought their way through the vehicles, eliminating any nearby rotters. When they reached Duncan and the Angels, they helped them off the vehicles and escorted them back to the Bradleys. The rear doors dropped open and a tall man wearing sergeant stripes ushered them onboard.

"You guys are safe now."

Natalie and Amy saw everything play out from the rear of the semi-trailer. Several of the Bradleys stopped to rescue Stephanie, Duncan, Ari, and Josephine, while three more headed for them. The chain guns mounted on the roof opened fire, sending thousands of rounds into the sides of the semi-trailer and the surrounding vehicles. Windows erupted; metal was punctured; rotters were shredded. The carnage lasted less than ten seconds. When the guns wound down, no rotters remained and the lower half of the semi-trailer looked like a sieve.

The lead Bradley pulled up alongside the eighteen-wheeler and stopped while two more continued ahead. The rear door came down and five soldiers ran out. Two of them crawled onto the Bradley. One by one, they helped Natalie and Amy off of the semi-trailer, where the other three then helped them onto the bridge. A middle-aged man wearing captain insignia exited the Bradley and strode up to them.

"Do you know where Lieutenant Pandelosi is?"

Natalie lowered her head. "She didn't make it."

"d.a.m.n," the captain muttered under his breath. "Which one of you has the Revenant Vaccine?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Pandelosi radioed us yesterday about your arrival at Offutt. Secretary Fogel is excited about the prospect of being able to take back the United States from these things."

"One of my girls is carrying a backpack with the vaccine," said Natalie. "You picked her up a few minutes ago."

"How many of you are there?"

"I'm not sure. There are the ones you just picked up, three more on the pedestrian walkway closer to sh.o.r.e, and the pilot, who's wounded. We left him back at the airstrip in Sausalito in a C-130."

"We didn't see the other three on the way in." The captain turned to one of his subordinates and pointed to the western walkway. "Sanchez, have one of the squads check out that portion of the bridge. We're looking for three more people. And radio the Beachhead that we have a wounded survivor back at the emergency airstrip who needs to be rescued."

"Yes, sir!" the soldier said and ran off to follow orders.

The captain turned back to Natalie. "Are you ready?"

"Who are you?"

"Sorry." He offered his hand. "I'm Captain Rogers. I'm in charge of the military unit protecting the Beachhead. We're here to get you to safety."

"How'd you know where to find us?" asked Amy.

"Alameda alerted us that you had arrived early and tracked your movements until you landed in Sausalito. We mobilized to come and get you. When you blew up half the bridge, we knew exactly where to find you." Rogers stepped aside and motioned toward the Bradley. "If you'll please get on board. We have a lot of revenants heading this way, and I need to get us out of here ASAP."

Natalie and Amy entered the Bradley. Rogers barked some orders to his men, and then climbed on himself and closed the rear hatch.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX.

The drive back to the Beachhead was uneventful, especially after the last hour. Once near the southern end of the Golden Gate Bridge, the foot soldiers boarded the Bradleys. They joined up with five additional fighting vehicles deployed along the bridge's southern approaches that had been holding back rotters, and together the convoy made its way home. Natalie noticed that here, like on the bridge, lanes of traffic had been cleared of abandoned vehicles to allow for easy access. The trip lasted less than five minutes.

The Beachhead was actually the old San Francisco Port of Embarkation located inside Fort Mason, now known as the Fort Mason Center. The cement wall that surrounded the complex had been augmented by guard towers every fifty feet and strands of barbed wire erected along the top. Two rows of Jersey barriers ran parallel to the perimeter at fifty and one hundred-foot intervals, the former being stacked two barriers high. Various cars and small vehicles had been placed between the two barriers, creating a nearly impenetrable defense against rotters. M1 tanks blocked each of the three entrances through the walls. As the Bradleys neared, Rogers fired two flares into the air. The tanks pulled aside, allowing the convoy through, and then rolled back into position. The convoy entered the parking lot. When the rear doors opened, Natalie stepped out.

The complex itself didn't look very impressive. Four three-story barracks that had been converted into office s.p.a.ce spread across the grounds. To the north, three piers extended into the Bay, each dominated by a warehouse. Two ferry boats, a barge, and several speedboats were tied alongside them. Another dozen Bradleys and a few Humvees were parked near the buildings. Everyone wore camouflage uniforms and carried a weapon. This place appeared more like an armed camp than the de facto government-in-exile. Natalie felt her hopes fading away.

Rogers stepped up behind Natalie and cleared his throat to get her attention. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you and the other ladies in your unit to follow me."

"Where to?" Natalie felt her suspicions rising.

"All newcomers have to be placed into quarantine for forty-eight hours. That includes the military personnel who flew in with you. It's protocol, especially since one of your number has been bitten."

"Who was bitten?" Natalie asked.

Rogers hesitated, trying to remember the name. "Arianne?"

"You mean Ari?"

"Maybe that's it. She received a minor bite to the hand. She claims you've all been inoculated, but we still have to place you under quarantine."

"I understand."

"Thank you."

Natalie followed Rogers to the farthest of the three barracks. The rest of her Angels and the surviving military members were being escorted in the same direction, though none of them at gunpoint. In fact, Duncan seemed to be chatting amiably with his escort. Batchelder, Sandy, and Josephine were not among them "Did you find the other three members of our group?"

"Not yet. Once we pick up the pilot in Sausalito, I'll send out a search party for them."

"Thanks," Natalie said. A moment of silence pa.s.sed between them. "I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed."

"Because we couldn't find your people?"

"We were told Secretary Fogel had gathered a lot of people under him and was preparing to take back the country from the rotters. I don't mean to be rude, but this doesn't look like much."

"Ma'am, we call this the Beachhead because it's the part of the complex attached to the mainland. This is where we bring in survivors and quarantine them." Rogers pointed out into San Francis...o...b..y. "Secretary Fogel and the main community have set themselves up there where they're safe."

Natalie followed his finger. The captain was pointing to Alcatraz.

It took five hours for Robson's team to wrap up things at the storage facility and return to base. While Dravko and Tibor finished releasing the prisoners chained to the perimeter defense, Robson had taken DeWitt back into the compound to kill off rotters and rescue survivors, including Caslow, whom they found cowering inside one of the units. In total, they had saved thirty-three people from the perimeter defense and five women from inside who had remained hidden throughout the battle, and helped them into the Ryder for the trip back to camp. They also had gathered up the bodies of their fallen companions, as well as those women killed inside the compound who had been innocent victims. The bodies of the gang members were left to rot amongst the corpses of the living dead. Some of the survivors had complained about having to ride with corpses. Robson had stopped their whining by reminding them that those people had died trying to save them. He would make certain the dead got a proper burial and memorial tomorrow.

Unfortunately, they had not found Windows. According to the women who had been rescued from inside the compound, she had been alive as of that evening, and some of the survivors from the Line had reported a young woman and little girl sneaking through the fence during the battle, so what the old man had told Robson about her having an escape plan must have been true. Roberta had spent an hour driving up and down Route 28 and some of the side roads searching for Windows, but never found her.

Wayans had suffered only a superficial wound. While Roberta had st.i.tched him up, Simmons had cooked the survivors a hot meal. Not that he had much to offer-bacon and scrambled eggs. For the survivors, it was more than they had eaten in months. Robson stood by the door of the construction company garage watching them. When Simmons handed out the meals in paper bowls, some of the survivors grasped his hand and wouldn't let go, or cried at their good fortune. Most, however, silently devoured their meal.