Part 27 (1/2)

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 s.h.i.+fted into first gear. The bus lurched forward, pus.h.i.+ng 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 brus.h.i.+ng 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 pus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+fted 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 s.h.i.+fted 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.