Rotter Apocalypse (33 page)

Sixteen months later

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent into Portsmouth International Airport at Pease. Military personnel, please check in at Hanger 3 for your assignments. All civilian passengers can proceed directly to the terminal. Thank you.”

Natalie stirred from her nap and stretched. It seemed unusual flying into Portsmouth rather than Logan; however, that was one of the changes following the war. Most of the major airports were either still inside exclusion zones or were so badly damaged during the outbreak that it would take years to clean them up and make them operational. Not that it mattered, because there was still very little in the way or air travel in the country. Until recently, all flights had been military. Three weeks ago, President Fogel had allowed civilians with a justifiable reason to book transport aboard military aircraft. He considered it one of the many first steps in restoring a sense of normalcy to the country, although it would be quite a while before people could hop a flight to visit relatives in another state.

She still found it hard to believe that the war was over. It had taken fourteen months to clear the United States of rotters. After securing the West Coast, the drive continued east from the Sierra Nevadas. The United States linked up with the Canadian campaign near the Idaho-Montana border, and from there the two armies combined forces into a juggernaut that maintained its advance until it reached the East Coast, sweeping up almost every one of the living dead. A long defensive line had been established along the border with Mexico to keep out rotters until the Central American campaign met up with the Americans. Major cities were bypassed for later clean up. Some areas were so heavily infested, or were so difficult to get to, that they were sealed off into exclusion zones—the Hawaiian Islands, Chicago, Boston, New York City, and Long Island. Once the rest of the nation could get back on its feet and more troops could be trained, then the exclusion zones would be taken back, although that could take years.

The rest of the world fared about the same. The Russians had been able to stop the rotter advance at the Ural Mountains and had built up camps of European survivors in safe areas stretching into Siberia. They had launched their own reclamation campaign a few months after the Americans, and in a year had cleaned out most of Europe except for the Italian and Iberian Peninsulas. The campaign to take back the United Kingdom was scheduled to begin in six months. The Chinese spearheaded the campaign to reclaim Asia, launching their efforts from eastern Siberia. The massive population centers of China and India slowed their progress considerably and, as of a few weeks ago, the advance had made it only as far as the 23
rd
Parallel, leaving the southern part of India and all of Southeast Asia still occupied by rotters, as well as the Korean Peninsula and Japan. Australia would begin its rescue operation next year. For now, almost five hundred thousand survivors had set up a self-sustained fortified region in the Outback and had been able to keep out the living dead, but did not have enough resources to take back the continent. The rest of the region—Indonesia, the Philippines, New Guinea, New Zealand, and the thousands of islands strewn across the Pacific—would more than likely be left to the living dead for the foreseeable future. As for the Middle East, they had made out better than anticipated. Comprised mostly of desert, the surviving military forces had taken back the majority of the region earlier than anticipated. The major cities took longer, especially along the Levant. The safe zone began at the Red Sea in the west, stretched to the Dardanelles and the Caucasus where it met up with the Russians, and extended north where it met up with the Chinese in Turkmenistan. The push east was only a hundred miles away from linking up with Indian troops pushing west from Pakistan and Afghanistan. The only area not accounted for was Africa. No word had come from that region in over a year, and everyone assumed that the continent was completely dead. As of now, no efforts would be made to reclaim that part of the world.

The C-5 banked left. Natalie glanced out the window at the airfield below, having to turn her head to compensate for the patch over her left eye.

Ari reached out and held her hand. “We’ll be there soon.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Natalie nodded, although in fact she didn’t know if she was.

Despite what Branson had predicted, Natalie and Ari did not spend the rest of the war behind a desk. They could have if Natalie hadn’t refused to take the easy way out while so much work still needed to be done and requested that she return to duty. Of course, Ari volunteered to go with her. Headquarters had assigned her to take over command of a company on the Utah front. They would see service throughout the Midwest, including heavy action around St. Louis and Cincinnati, before ending the war with the reclaiming of Washington D.C. Elections were held a month after that, and Secretary Fogel was elected president by a landslide. Natalie and Ari were released from military service and talked about moving back to Colorado to begin their new life together.

She found it funny how fate always intervened. Most of the states had not yet re-established their governments, so as a temporary measure Fogel had divided the country into districts that would remain under federal control until such time as the states could rebuild their infrastructures. Fogel had requested Natalie take over as security commander for the Northeast District that comprised the New England states. Of course she had accepted, and now she and Ari were flying into Portsmouth to begin that assignment.

First, however, she had one stop to make.

The C-5 touched down. Five minutes later, it pulled up to the terminal and everyone disembarked. A corporal stood by a Humvee holding a sign that read BAZARGAN. As they approached, the corporal straightened to attention. “Miss Bazargan. Miss Fleitman. How was your flight?”

“Not bad. I miss business class.”

“Ma’am, for the military, that
was
business class.”

Natalie chuckled. “Is that my Hummer?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you want, I can drive you to Portland. Security Command is waiting for you.”

“No, thanks. I need to make a detour first. Were my earlier instructions followed?”

“Yes, ma’am. I carried them out myself.” The corporal paused. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is so special about that place? It’s a burnt out wreck.”

Natalie didn’t respond, so Ari answered for her. “It holds a personal meaning to us.”

“Copy that. Sorry to pry.”

“No need to apologize.” Ari tapped his shoulder, reassuring the corporal that no offense was taken. “That’ll be all.”

The corporal headed back to the terminal. Ari opened the trunk of the Humvee and tossed their duffel bags inside. She closed the hatch and said, “I’ll drive.”

Leaving the airport, Ari headed for downtown Portsmouth. The trip took the women past sights that had become all too familiar to them, and harbored as many bad memories as good. Getting onto Route One, she crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua River into Maine. A few miles up ahead sat the Kittery Trading Post where the Angels had once provided protection from rotters for the numerous raiding parties that had stripped the shops clean. As they passed, Natalie realized how much things had changed. The last time she was here, the living dead swarmed the area. Now not a single rotter could be seen, and dozens of tractor trailer trucks parked outside the strip malls as crews rummaged through the shops, commandeering anything of value to help rebuild society.

When Ari steered right onto Haley Road, Natalie felt her anxiety grow. Soon they would be back at Fort McClary, where they had started from so long ago. She needed to visit here, not out of a sense of nostalgia, but for closure. Natalie had spent the last month tracking down information on those Angels who had not joined the campaign against the rotters, and it depressed her. Sandy had joined a Combat Surgical Hospital that had been overrun by a rogue horde of rotters west of Dallas, killing everyone in the hospital. Amy had gone into logistics, driving supply trucks that reinforced the line; a convoy she was part of had been hijacked by looters who killed the drivers, including Amy. Stephanie spent the war training recruits in San Francisco before sending them to the line. Once the fighting ended, she moved back east and disappeared. While recovering from her wound, Fogel had asked Josephine to assist Chief of Staff Thomas in rebuilding San Francisco, which had become the home of the government-in-exile. The two had worked hard to restore the city, doing such a good job that in elections held six weeks ago, Thomas and Josephine had been elected mayor and deputy mayor, respectively.

Yet one person remained unaccounted for.

Ari pulled the Humvee into Fort McClary’s parking lot. Nothing had changed since the night her Angels had left Portland to bring the vaccine to Omaha. It was one of the thousands of battlefields across the country that would sit untouched for years before someone had the time and resources to clean it up. The only difference was the structure erected near the main entrance to the compound. Ari stopped in front of it, and the two women climbed out.

Natalie had ordered a cork board set up on the compound. It stood five feet square, with walls extending out on both sides and a roof overhead to protect the board from the elements. She had hoped Robson or someone from his group would post a message letting her know what had happened to the others after they went their separate ways. Not that she intended to get back together with Robson. She desperately needed to know what had happened to him, and that others beside her and Ari had survived.

Natalie stepped up to the board, then she closed her eyes and lowered her head. Nothing was attached.

Ari moved up alongside Natalie. “It’s okay. Not much time has passed since the end of the war. We’ll have it checked once a week. I’m sure someone will post up here soon.”

“Thanks.” Natalie paused a moment before asking, “Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it?”

Natalie pointed to the destroyed fort. “Everyone we lost here. Everyone we lost at Site R and on the trip to San Francisco. For all we know, there are only three of us left. I want to know they didn’t die in vain.”

“You’re missing the most important things.”

“What?”

“If it wasn’t for you and Robson, we never would have been able to retrieve the vaccine and get it to the government-in-exile. Yes, we lost a lot of good people doing that, but how many lives were saved because the troops were inoculated? None of this could have happened without you two.”

Natalie smiled, more to hide the pain of her loss than to celebrate her achievement. “What’s the other thing?”

“We have each other.” Ari took Natalie’s hand and squeezed. “We survived the rotter apocalypse.”

I want to thank all my readers who have patiently and faithfully followed the
Rotter World
saga. What had originally been a one-off novel about humans and vampires trying to survive a zombie apocalypse turned into an epic trilogy that not only explored the darker aspects of how we would react to a complete collapse of the social order, but concluded with humans bringing the war back to the living dead. I loved writing this series, became attached to the characters (which didn’t prevent me from killing off most of them), and am sorry to be leaving the rotter-infested world behind.

A major debt of gratitude goes to Felicia A. Sullivan, my editor, who worked closely with me to tighten up the manuscript. Felicia is a consummate professional who did a superior job, and I value her expertise as well as the fact that she is also a fan. I also want to give a special shout out to Judy Knuth who proof read the final product. They both did an excellent job in making this book read and look as professional as possible. However, any errors in the final product are mine to own.

Zach McCain provided the cover art for
Rotter Apocalypse
. We played around with several ideas before finally coming up with the artwork used for this cover, which perfectly captures the essence of the entire novel.

I also want to express my gratitude to James Jackson, the author of the
Up From the Depths
series and a military and technical advisor for
The Ward Room: Military and Technical Assistance for Writers
. James reviewed all the military-related scenes in
Rotter Apocalypse
and provided pages worth of feedback, correcting the many mistakes I originally made in depicting current U.S. weapon systems and offering some constructive feedback on how the military would wage war against the living dead. If the battle scenes in and around San Francisco seem realistic, it’s because James made me look smart.

I am grateful to my readers for reviewing the first draft and providing their honest feedback. I rely on my Beta readers to point out my mistakes and plot flaws, and they did a fantastic job.

As always, a special thank you goes to my family. For the past three years they have tolerated the long hours I spent roaming through my own sick, twisted, and undead world. My wife and fellow writer, Alison Beightol, has been supportive and understanding; I would never be able to do this without her love and support. The pets, however, cannot fathom why that strange glowing device on the desk is more important than them. I cannot remember how many times I sat in front of my computer with Walther’s drooling snout resting on my leg and his large brown eyes staring up at me begging for attention. To all of you, thank you for sharing me with my passion. I love you all.