Rotter World (12 page)

“We’re big girls,” said Stephanie with a grin. “You can tell us.”

Amy shook her head as she drank.

“She won’t tell us because she didn’t hit anything.” Tiara nudged Stephanie. “She’s just afraid to admit it.”

“Do you really want to know?” asked Amy.

“Yes,” most of the Angels answered at once.

Amy sighed in mock exasperation. “Four.”

“Bullshit,” said Leila.

“You’re joking, right?” added Ari.

“Four?” asked Stephanie.

Amy chuckled. “It’s not my fault none of you can hit the wall of a barn from the inside.”

The Angels responded with good-natured insults and laughter. However, the levity came to an abrupt end when they all heard the all-too-familiar sound of a rifle bolt being pulled back and locked closed again. They all turned toward the end of the school bus, in the direction of the sound.

Two figures stood by the end of the bus. One was a large black man, six feet three inches and at least two hundred and fifty pounds, most of it muscle. Huge biceps bulged under his shirt, as did the veins on his bald palate. He held a shotgun trained on the Angels.

To his right stood a middle-aged white guy with unkempt graying hair and a beard. Although barely half the size of his partner, he looked just as menacing because of the scowl on his weathered features. He clutched a hunting rifle in his right hand, the barrel pointed toward the ground. A twisted smile pierced his lips, the smile of a bully about to take pleasure in tormenting someone.

“What did I tell ya, Ike? It looks like we’ve got ourselves some trespassers.”

Chapter Nineteen

The newcomers stared menacingly at the Angels. Ari eyed her Mauser, which sat two feet from her in the grass. Her gaze caught the attention of the bearded man, who quickly lifted his hunting rifle and aimed it at the young woman.

“Don’t try it, sweetheart. I’d hate to hafta shoot ya.”

“Yeah,” snorted the giant of a black man, “we got other plans for you.”

Robson felt Natalie start to rise from the fallen tree, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. She followed his gaze across the road where two other men emerged from around the front and back ends of the Ryder. A tall, lanky man carried an AK-47 assault rifle, the weapon already raised and aimed in his and Natalie’s direction. From behind the truck, a barrel-chested man with a mustache trained a double-barrel shotgun on O’Bannon and Thompson, directing them to place their hands on their heads and move toward the center of the clearing. He then turned the gun to Compton and Jennifer, implying they were to do the same.

Off to Robson’s left, two more men appeared from around the front bumper of the Mack. One of them, a teenager with long blonde hair tucked behind his ears and held in place with a Yankees baseball cap, pointed an old British Enfield at Rashid and Caylee, motioning with the barrel of his weapon toward the others. The second gunman, a middle-aged man wearing a leather Harley Davidson vest, used an M-16 assault rifle to threaten the refueling team, who were gathered around the Mack’s fuel tank. Daytona and Whitehouse raised their arms and moved to the clearing. Mad Dog sneered. The gunman stepped forward and aimed his M-16 at Mad Dog’s head. Slowly and reluctantly, Mad Dog held up his hands and fell back.

The gunmen ushered everyone except for the Angels into the open area between the Mack and the school bus. The two gunmen with assault rifles stood on either side of the huddled group, their weapons trained on them, ready to fire. The mustachioed gunman circled around and stood behind Robson and Natalie. Ike stepped away from the Angels and boarded the school bus.

The teenager peered into the Mack’s bed. His eyes lit up with excitement. He turned and crossed over to the bearded gunman hovering over the Angels. “Hey, Sam. These guys are carrying fifty-five gallon drums of gas. Four of ‘em.”

Ike stepped out of the bus. “They have two more drums in here plus a shitload of supplies. Boxes of MREs and a coupla thousand rounds of ammo.”

The teenager stroked Sandy’s blonde hair. “Plus enough pussy to last us months.”

Sandy pushed his hand away and screamed, “Fuck you!”

The teenager took the stock of his shotgun and slammed it against the base of Sandy’s neck between the shoulder blades. She yelped and slumped forward onto the grass, moaning in pain. The rest of the Angels started to move to her defense, but stopped when Ike and Sam stepped forward, their weapons at the ready.

The teenager knelt down, clutched Sandy by the hair, and yanked her head up so she faced him. “Oh, you’ll fuck me, bitch. Hell, by tonight you’ll have fucked all of us.”

Ike stepped over to Sarah and used the barrel of his shotgun to push aside her hair, revealing the scar across her cheek. “Looks like someone already got a crack at this bitch.”

Sarah pushed the barrel away. Ike swung a large hand, slapping Sarah so hard across her face that she spun around and collapsed. He hovered over her, quivering with anger. “Get up, cunt!”

“We don’t have time for this,” snapped Sam.

“But the cunt needs to be put in her place.”

“I’ll let you kill her when it’s time.”

“We’re not taking that one with us?” asked the teenager.

“With a face carved up like that?” Sam grimaced. “You want to fuck her?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ll just bury her face in a pillow and fuck her up the ass.”

Ike smiled menacingly. “I get her ass first.”

“Sam,” called out the gunman in the Harley Davidson vest, “what should we do with the rest of them?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Get rid of ‘em.”

“What about using ‘em in the zone?”

“Too many mouths to feed.”

Robson looked around, calculating their odds of getting out of this. His party had a six-to-one advantage, but the gunmen had surprised them. And the two assault rifles definitely gave these assholes an edge. The thug in the Harley Davidson vest stood twenty feet in front of Robson, while the lanky one stood about ten feet from Thompson with his back to the colonel. Robson made eye contact with Thompson. He slightly motioned his head toward the lanky gunman with the AK-47. Thompson acknowledged with the barest of nods. It was a damn slim chance, but at least it was a chance. If he and the colonel could take down the two with the assault rifles, it would give the Angels at least a fighting chance to get to their weapons. But Robson knew he would never cover the distance between himself and the one in the Harley Davidson vest before the guy standing to his rear took him down. He would need Natalie to run interference.

He glanced over, hoping to get Natalie’s attention, surprised to see her staring at the Ryder. She would look away for a moment, and then go back to staring at the truck. If she kept that up, she would draw suspicion to herself.

No sooner had Robson thought it when the mustachioed gunman placed the heel of his boot against Natalie’s back and shoved. “What the fuck at you lookin’ at, bitch?”

Natalie meekly lowered her eyes to the grass. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He shoved her again with the heel of his boot.

“What’s going on?” yelled out Sam.

The mustachioed gunman pointed toward the Ryder. “Somethin’s in that truck.”

“What?”

“Don’t know. The bitch ain’t talking.”

Sam turned to the teenager. “Billy, didn’t you check it out?”

“No.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.”

Billy cringed, as if expecting to be hit. “Sorry.”

Sam turned to Ike and nodded to the Angels. “Keep an eye on them.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“You’re with me,” Sam said to the lanky teenager and the gunman in the Harley Davidson vest, who fell in behind him. He snapped his fingers toward the mustachioed gunman and motioned for him to follow.

The thug rammed the stock of his shotgun into Robson’s back. “Move.”

Robson and Natalie did as they were told, joining the others in the center of the clearing. Sam grabbed Natalie by the forearm and dragged her toward the Ryder. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder. “Billy, watch them. The rest of you are with me.”

When they reached the rear of the Ryder, Sam shoved Natalie forward. “Open it.”

Natalie climbed up on the loading dock, knelt down, and swung the latch into the unlocked position. Grabbing the handle, she pulled up. The door slid along its rollers, exposing the blackout curtains.

“What’s in there?” Sam asked nervously.

“Trust me,” said Natalie, “you don’t want to know.”

“We’ll see.” Sam yanked Natalie off the truck, knocking her onto the grass. He stepped back and spoke to the others. “Check it out. If you find anyone inside, kill ‘em.”

The three gunmen climbed up onto the loading dock. The lanky one pushed aside the curtains with his AK-47 to allow the mustachioed gunman and the one in the Harley Davidson vest to enter, and then followed them inside.

A moment later, a scream emanated from the back of the Ryder, followed by gun shots and a growl, an ungodly guttural sound that was neither animal nor human. All three men started screaming now, the intensity of their panic terrifying. Then, one by one, each cry devolved into a muffled gurgle. The mayhem stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving in its place an eerie silence.

“You guys all right?” Sam stepped closer to the loading dock. “Talk to—”

The thug in the Harley Davidson vest fell from behind the curtains and landed face first onto the landing. The left side of his face had been slashed open, leaving deep claw marks that raked the skin down to the skull. His remaining eye bulged in terror. He clawed at the metal, desperately trying to get away.

“Sam, help me! Don’t let them g—”

A roar came from inside the truck. Something grabbed the gunman and dragged him back inside as he screamed at the top of his lungs. A second later, they heard the crunching of bones, which ended the anguished wail.

Sam turned around, a blank expression on his face. He stammered, trying to talk, but could not voice any words. Then he saw Natalie lying on the ground, and his initial shock changed to anger. “You cunt! What the fuck’s in there?”

“I told you you didn’t want to know.”

“Fuck you!” Sam raised the hunting rifle and aimed it at Natalie. She closed her eyes and waited for death. Before he could pull the trigger, another roar sounded from the back of the truck. A pair of taloned hands reached through the curtains and plunged into Sam’s shoulders, penetrating deep into his flesh. The claws yanked him onto the loading dock and into the rear of the truck. Sam shrieked and thrashed around. His screams were still audible when Natalie crawled up onto the landing and lowered the door.

From beside the school bus, Ike heard the commotion and rushed to help. He did not get very far. As he ran by the Angels, Sarah grabbed the pot of coffee brewing on the fire and threw the boiling remnants into his eyes. He dropped the shotgun to clasp his face, howling in pain. Sarah picked up her Mauser and swung the butt of her rifle so it collided with the left side of Ike’s jaw. Blood and broken teeth spewed from his mouth. He fell to his knees. Sarah lifted the Mauser above her and brought it down against the back of his head, fracturing his skull with a loud crack. Ike toppled forward onto the grass. He tried climbing to his feet, but could not. He merely mumbled the single word, “Please.”

“Fuck you!” Sarah slammed the Mauser down on his head once again, this time with such force that Ike’s skull shattered and his skin ruptured, spilling his brains onto the grass. Despite his being dead, Sarah continued assaulting the pulverized skull with her rifle until Stephanie intervened, gently removing the weapon from her hands and holding the young woman. Sarah began sobbing.

After witnessing the carnage at the Ryder and the attack on Ike, Billy dropped his shotgun and ran for the nearby woods, hoping to escape. Robson picked up the shotgun and aimed at the teenager’s back, but Thompson stepped forward and pushed the barrel down.

“What are you doing?” asked Robson.

“Give me the gun and your radio, and I’ll follow him to see where he goes. If there’s others out there, we need to know about them.”

Robson handed the shotgun and the radio to the colonel. “Do you want me to come along?”

Thompson shook his head. “No offense, but I can track him better on my own. You get everybody ready to defend themselves in case these assholes have buddies nearby.”

“Can do. Good luck.”

As Thompson raced off, Natalie joined Robson. “Are you okay?”

“Just a bit shaken, that’s all.” He stretched his back muscles, feeling a bolt of pain where he had been hit with the shotgun. “How about you?”

“I’m gonna hurt like hell.”

“You better go check on your girls.”

“I will.”

As Natalie started to walk away, Robson reached out and clasped her hand. “That was a gutsy maneuver. How’d you know it would work?”

“I didn’t. But it was a lot better than you and the colonel getting into a shootout with those assholes.”

As Natalie ran off, Robson turned to the Ryder and stared at it. He had no sympathy for the gunmen, and was glad they were dead. Even so, he pushed from his mind any thoughts of what was going on in the back of the truck.