Rotter World: Rotter Nation Part 6

A minute later, they left Portland behind them and raced over the Cas...o...b..y Bridge. The rest of the group waited at the top of the span. When Robson and Dravko joined them, they stared over the rail and out into the bay.

"What's up?" Robson asked.

DeWitt pointed to the horizon. "That set of lights is the Angels' yacht. It looks like they made it out okay."

Although glad the Angels were safe, it devastated Robson to see them go. He had never intended to fall in love with anyone after the apocalypse, but it had happened between him and Natalie. Just as he began to harbor a vague hope of maybe rebuilding his life, he had to send the woman he loved on a suicide mission to get Compton's vaccine for the Zombie Virus to the government-in-exile in Omaha. He knew the Angels had a slim chance of succeeding. Even worse, he knew the chances of his ever seeing Natalie again bordered on non-existent. Things like personal happiness were no longer luxuries anyone could hope for in this terrifying new world.

Robson watched the lights of the yacht recede into the night. He closed his eyes and mentally said goodbye to Natalie, hoping somehow she would sense him.

Turning from the bay, Robson faced the others. "Okay, let's go."

"Where are we going?" asked DeWitt.

"To get Windows from that rape gang."

CHAPTER NINE.

Windows lay curled in a fetal position in the corner of the storage container, as much to ward off the damp and cold as to hide her shame.

Last night, Price threw the victory party he had promised, and she had fulfilled her role as the "entertainment". It had started as soon as they got back to camp. Price and the rest of the hunting party brought her to one of the larger storage units that contained only a large, st.u.r.dy table. He forced her to strip and then raped her on top of the table while two others held her down. When Price finished, he let the rest of the party have their turn. One by one, other gang members filtered in to get in line. Windows mentally distanced herself from the a.s.sault, losing track of how many men violated her. She vaguely recalled two and sometimes three men taking her at once. Of course, she remembered her last a.s.sailant, Meat. He had gotten his revenge by s.e.xually brutalizing her so badly she pa.s.sed out. When she came to later, her attackers had left her alone on top of the table in the same condition as when they had finished, naked and covered in s.e.m.e.n and blood. Gathering her clothes, she had dressed and crossed over to the corner, hoping to catch some sleep.

Of course, that never happened. Every time Windows began to doze off, the images of her gang rape replayed in her mind.

Dealing with the self-recrimination proved worse than constantly reliving the nightmare. Rationally, she knew she could have done nothing to prevent last night, but her subconscious argued otherwise. Maybe she shouldn't have willingly undressed for them. Maybe she should have fought back, not that it would have prevented what had happened. In fact, it more than likely would have made her situation worse. She would still have been raped, and probably have been beaten senseless as well. At least she would have some dignity in knowing that she had fought back and didn't willingly submit. This internal argument had gone on all night. Every time Windows convinced herself that she had done the right thing by not resisting, or determined that in the future she would fight back, self-doubt set in and the internal argument began all over again.

Windows had been curled up for G.o.d knew how long when she heard voices outside the unit, followed by the clanking of the sliding metal door being raised. She bolted upright and pushed herself into the corner, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the intruder. Her heart pounded, her skin flushed, her stomach went nauseous. The door slid open and a woman stepped into the unit. Windows recognized her as the same woman who had brought her dinner and the sleeping bag on her first night. Windows finally had a chance to get a close look at her. At one time, she probably would have been considered attractive, but not now. Her five-and-a-half-foot frame was gaunt, and she walked with her shoulders hunched forward. She wore shabby, filthy clothes. Scraggly red hair flowed over her shoulders, and appeared as though it had not been washed in weeks. Several strands covered her face. When the woman ran a hand through them and pushed the hair behind her ear, Windows saw that the woman's beauty had been beaten out of her. Hollow eyes stared vacantly from sockets blackened by lack of sleep, remnants of bruises darkened her cheeks, and a scar ran across her upper and lower lips. She carried a tray with a plate of food, a bowl of water, and a towel and facecloth.

A young girl about eight years old followed behind the woman. She had long brunette hair pulled into a ponytail that hung past her shoulders. The girl wore overalls, a sweatshirt, and sneakers that had seen better days. Like the older woman, she was dirty and haggard, although the girl looked more scared than abused. She held clothes in her arms.

The two stepped over to the table without saying a word. The older woman placed the tray on top, and then took the clothes from the young girl and set them alongside it. Only when the guard outside slid shut the metal door did the woman speak.

"I'm Debra Caslow. This is my daughter, Cindy."

The young girl raised her hand and waved.

Debra regarded Windows and sighed under her breath, "f.u.c.king animals."

"Mom, it's not nice to swear."

"You're right, dear." Debra ran her hand across Cindy's hair. The barest hint of a smile crossed her lips. She turned back to Windows. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Windows sat there, not sure what to do. Debra went over to the bowl of water and immersed the facecloth in it, soaking it for several seconds before wringing it out and returning to Windows.

"You have to keep going. Trust me, I know. Every woman here has spent time in the Clubhouse."

"Is that what you call it?"

"No. The men call it the Clubhouse. We call it the Rape Room. You get used to it after a while. Every day in this h.e.l.lhole is a struggle to maintain even a shred of self-respect." Debra motioned with her head. "Come on."

Windows stood up and walked over to the table. Debra began cleaning her face as if she was a child. Windows made no effort to do it herself, desperate for any gesture of kindness. Cindy pa.s.sed behind her mother and stood by the opposite end of the table, playing with the towel.

"What's your name?" asked Debra with the nonchalance of a hair stylist chatting with a customer.

"Windows."

"Is that your last name?"

"That's what they call me."

"You mean the people back at the fort?"

Windows nodded, fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry about that." Debra let the conversation lapse. When done cleaning Windows' face, Cindy handed her the towel.

"Who are these people?" Windows asked as she dried herself.

Debra glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one could hear. "Most of them are criminals who broke out of a nearby federal penitentiary during the first weeks of the outbreak. They set up camp here and have been preying on anyone unfortunate enough to wander past, or anyone they come across on raiding missions. Most of the men are killed outright, unless they have a skill that can be put to use. Or if they fight back, in which case they're brought back here and put on the Line. All the women are raped. The lucky ones are murdered afterwards. The unfortunate ones are brought back here to be s.e.x slaves. When the men grow tired of them, they join the others on the Line."

"What's 'the Line'?"

"That's what they call the defense perimeter. Anyone who p.i.s.ses off Price gets sent outside where they're chained to the ground outside the wall surrounding this place. It's his sick idea of an early warning system. If any of the deaders get close to the compound, they stop to feed off of someone on the Line first. The screaming warns the guards."

"Has it happened before?"

"Only once since I've been here. Others said it happened a lot in the early days. You can hear the screaming all over the compound. It's terrible." Debra took the towel. "Take off your clothes."

Windows wrapped her arms across her chest and squeezed tight. "Why?"

"I have clean clothing for you. You don't want to wear those. Trust me, I know. They're soiled with them." Debra spoke the last word with bitterness.

Windows slid off her shoes.

"The Line is the reason most of us put up with what we do," Debra continued. "It's worse than being dead. At least death is quick. Out there, you slowly die of starvation, or you become a meal for a deader."

"Don't they feed those on the Line?"

"It's a punishment detail. Everyone gets a cup of soup and water a day, plus a blanket to cover up at night. No one has lasted more than a few weeks. That's why most of the people in here do as they're told. It's better than the alternative."

"Is it?" Windows sneered as she slid off her jeans. s.e.m.e.n that had leaked from her v.a.g.i.n.a stained the crotch. Windows fought back the urge to vomit. "How often do you have to give yourself to them?"

Debra avoided her gaze. "Every night."

"I'd rather take my chances out there with the rotters and the elements than submit to them." She flung the soiled jeans at Debra.

The woman grabbed them in mid-air. For a moment she glared at Windows, then her expression softened into one of self-contempt. "So would I, but I have other considerations."

Windows realized she meant Cindy and regretted her accusation. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. I'm sorry for what I've done to keep her safe." Debra knelt in front of Windows and began wiping down her pubis, trying to clean off the encrusted remnants of the a.s.sault. "It's not as bad as you might think if you learn how to play the system. There's a lot of girls around here who haven't figured it out, and they get gang raped every night. Not me, though."

"So, what's the system?"

"Figure out which ones want a girlfriend and be nice to them."

"You mean f.u.c.k them?'

"Yes, but also treat them well. Compliment them, do special things for them, make them feel special. If you become their girlfriend, they'll be protective and won't let the others have their way with you." Debra stood up and handed Windows the towel. While Windows dried herself, Debra rinsed out the face cloth. "I have that relationship with Meat. That's what he makes all the women here call him."

Cindy glanced up. "He makes me call him Daddy."

Debra's face expressed the humiliation for both of them. "He won't share me with others, and he keeps Cindy safe as long as I do what he wants. I'll do anything to protect her."

"I'm sure you have." Windows meant it as a gesture of sympathy, not a condemnation.

"You have no idea." Debra smiled, but the anguish in her eyes and the quivering around the mouth said it all. "Meat likes you. It's why he wouldn't let you be killed back at your camp."

"I thought you were his girlfriend?"

"I'm expected to be monogamous, not him." Debra held up the facecloth. "Take off your shirt."

Windows unb.u.t.toned it and let it slide to the floor. "I don't understand. Why are you telling me this? Do you figure if he's f.u.c.king me, then you get a break?"

"Stop being a c.u.n.t." Debra threw the facecloth at Windows. It slapped across her chest. "I'm trying to help you. If you prefer to be gang banged every night, then that's your choice."

Visions of last night flashed through Windows' mind. She would do anything not to have to repeat that. "Sorry. It's just that... you know."

"I do." Debra motioned for Windows to clean herself. "And yes, I have an ulterior motive for arranging this."

"What's that?"

Debra glanced over at Cindy. Her face beamed, the first positive emotion Windows had seen from her. "I'm terrified for her safety if something happens to me. If I help you out, if I arrange it so you're Meat's girlfriend, you have to promise to take care of Cindy if something should happen to me."

Windows nodded halfheartedly. "I promise."

"No," snapped Debra. "I mean this. You have to swear on your life that you'll protect her."

Cindy gazed up at the two women for just a moment before glancing back down at the table. Windows' heart ached for the girl. Her world had been turned upside down in the past year, first by the rotter outbreak, and then by winding up in this place. All she could look forward to was growing up to be molested. It probably would have been better if she hadn't survived the first few days. She had, however, and fate had dealt her the s.h.i.ttiest hand in the deck. Nothing Windows could do about that now. She could at least try and prevent the situation from getting worse, although deep down she knew she had about as much of a chance of that as stopping the rotter apocalypse by herself. Still, she had to try.

"I promise that if you help me, I'll help you protect your daughter."

"Thank you." Debra rushed forward and threw her arms around Windows, hugging her tightly despite the awkwardness of Windows being naked. "Cindy, honey, bring the jumpsuit."

Cindy did as her mother asked. When she approached, Debra kneeled down to her daughter's level. "Miss Windows is going to be our friend and she's going to help keep you safe."

"Thank you." Cindy's expression remained unenthusiastic, though her eyes expressed grat.i.tude.

Debra took the jumpsuit and handed it to Windows. "This is the only thing we have that will fit you. It used to belong to a female Air Force major who the raiding party stumbled across."

"What happened to her?"

"After a week inside the compound, Price put her on the Line. By then she was so far gone she lasted only a few days. Now get dressed and eat. Afterwards, I'll take you to see the doctor for a regimen of morning after pills, and then you'll move into Meat's quarters with us."

Windows tried to conceal the fear that began to well up inside of her.

CHAPTER TEN.

Price slowed the black Hummer H3 as he approached the facility and turned left off of Sunc.o.c.k Valley Road. He felt the tension in himself and his three pa.s.sengers replaced by a sense of security at having safely arrived home. One of his men on guard duty raced out to the perimeter fence and pulled aside the gate, letting in the vehicle. As Price pa.s.sed through, he glanced off to his left at those staked to their positions along the Line. The ones within eyeshot averted their gazes or bowed their heads. Price smirked. Nothing like fear to keep his followers under control.

Another guard pushed open the security gate leading into the facility. Price drove into the compound, made a U-turn, and parked in front of the storage facility's main office, which also served as his headquarters. The others climbed out and headed back to their units. Price gave a final check of the gas and oil gauges before shutting off the engine. As he slid out of the Hummer, he noticed Carter standing a few feet away. Holding the keys in his right hand, Price raised them over his shoulder and pressed the lock b.u.t.ton. The lights on the Hummer flashed and the alarm beeped twice.

Carter chuckled. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Lock the Hummer. It's not like anyone's going to steal it."

Price shrugged and headed for his quarters. "We're surrounded by criminals. Better safe than sorry."

Carter fell in beside his boss. "Any luck?"

"Not a thing. We found plenty of evidence of them going through the area on their way down to Pennsylvania, but nothing indicating they've come back this way."

"Considering what's out there, I doubt they made it that far. I wouldn't worry about it."

"I have to worry about it," Price said. "It's how I've kept us safe all these months."

"I understand."

"Besides, I wouldn't count them out yet," said Price, now more conciliatory since he had made his point. "They have vampires with them, which gives them an edge against the deaders. You saw what they did to Ike and his team. I don't want to think about what will happen if those things get lose in here."

"Do you think that's a possibility?"