“What are you doing?”
“Figuring out where he’s going so I can catch the bastard,” Logan replied, leaning closer to the map and placing his finger on a spot near where he assumed they were: west of Naval Air Station Lemoore, east of the 5 Freeway. Standing up momentarily, he said, “I’m going to assume he’ll head to the Protective Zone. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that could make it on his own, so he’ll want protection.”
He leaned forward again and began tracing his finger westward on the map as he spoke: “So he’d most likely travel this way...then get on the five, heading north.”
“He could continue west along the one ninety-eight, then head north on the twenty-five…” Serafina offered as she leaned over the table, pointing out the route she’d indicated..
“Yeah, he could, but he probably doesn’t know that route.”
“Probably true,” she agreed before adding, “and if he doesn’t he wouldn’t have any idea it’s an option without seeing it on the map.”
“Yep, and at this hour, to look at the map he’d either have to stop - something he won’t want to do, or try to look at it while driving, using the dome light, which would be challenging.” Logan continued tracing his finger along the 5 freeway, moving it up the map. “The question will be when he finally has to head west. He could take the one fifty-two or the one thirty to the one oh one, or take the five eighty.”
Serafina stood back up and crossed her arms in front of her. “I think one of the first two makes the most sense. Heading up to the five eighty would take him through these cities and across one of the bridges. That seems more difficult than heading through San Jose.”
Logan nodded. “Yeah, that would be tough.”
“Which one he takes, though, is hard to say.”
“So I’ll have to catch him before he gets there,” Logan finished. Turning away from the table, he went to a small chair near the front door and sat down. He grabbed his boots from the floor near the door and began putting them on, lacing them up tightly.
“I don’t think we should move Daniel,” Serafina stated, shaking her head as she looked over to where her husband rested on the couch.
“You take care of him.” Logan replied as he stood up. “I’ll get Isabella.”
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he pressed down on the accelerator.
CHAPTER SIX
Foster City, California
Rising 135 feet above the surface of the San Francisco Bay, the San Mateo-Hayward bridge extends 7 miles, connecting the San Francisco Peninsula with the East Bay area. Built in 1967 and widened in 2003, the bridge is the longest in California and averages 93,000 commuters per day.
On this day, however, it was quiet. The cars jammed along its length sat quiet, covered in sea salt from the bay and soot from various vehicles that had burned after colliding with one another in a mad rush to leave the city.
The Eastbound lanes were blocked by a massive pileup on both the San Mateo side of the bridge, at the entrance to the span, and on the Foster City side, where the impatience of drivers had resulted in a tangled mass of vehicles. What was first bad was made exponentially worse when larger vehicles simply tried to ‘bulldoze’ their way through the smaller trucks and cars, resulting in those vehicles (and in some cases, their occupants as well) getting stuck under the frames of the larger vehicles.
At first consideration, one might assume that the Westbound lanes wouldn’t have suffered the same fate, and to some extent that assumption would be accurate, but those lanes were impassable as well, after desperate drivers chose to go against traffic in their attempt to flee the city. Head-on collisions are catastrophic in nature, and after the first few impacts sent glass, metal, and pieces of molded plastic into the other lanes, the collisions multiplied.
Smoke still rose from the bridge, ascending into the otherwise clear skies as the Scorpion and her crew looked on, waiting for Bang to return.
To her left, Clint leaned against the large white SUV they’d arrived in, dressed in the tight white tank top and white jeans he preferred. His dark skin glistening under the sun as he bobbed his head in time with the music he listened to through his Beats by Dre headphones.
On the other side of her, Manny sat atop a late model Ford pickup that had been abandoned by its owners. Wearing a vintage Black Oakland Raiders jersey and long black shorts, he was reaching down past the long white tube socks that nearly reached his knees to wipe dirt away from his black Converse All Stars.
Satisfied with his efforts, he looked out at the bridge, then over at the Scorpion before he spoke.
“Just outta curiosity and stuff, why are we doing this again?”
“Part of the deal,” the Scorpion replied, her eyes finally finding the lean form of Lizette as she wove between the vehicles on the bridge, headed back to where they waited.
“Yeah, okay. But why’d Skull Crusher want dis?”
Turning her head to look at him, she smiled. “The Bay Bridge is already out. Bang said something about a truck carrying liquid nitrogen. Remember that night last week when we thought there was an earthquake?”
“Yeah.”
The Scorpion brought her hands up as if she were holding a small ball, then moved them outward. “Big ass explosion. Happened right near one of the support towers, took it out.” Laughing, she looked back out towards the bay, which seemed to be looking more and more blue with each passing day as the amount of pollutants being put in the water had been reduced to something close to zero.
After a moment, she went on. “That bridge is missing about a mile of its length. Once this bridge is out, anyone coming from the east will be forced south, towards Fremont and Milpitas - his territory.” As she finished, she nodded. “Anyone coming from the south will be ours.”
The three of them watched as Lizette deftly used a rope to descend from the bridge to the top of a tractor trailer, then moved to the edge of the truck and jumped down, landing atop the roof of a taxi. Leaping down from there, she trotted over to where they stood. As lean and fit as she was, the acrobatic efforts hadn’t even winded her.
“Done?” The Scorpion asked.
“Yep,” she replied, biting her lower lip as she smiled back at the woman. “This is going to be a big one.” Reaching down, she unbuttoned the pocket on her cargo pants and withdrew a modified cell phone. Passing it to the Scorpion, she said, “Here. You do it.”
The Scorpion smiled. “Really?”
“Yes. I did it for you.”
Taking the modified phone in her hands, the Scorpion turned and faced the bridge. “What button do I press?”
Lizette leaned in, putting her arm around the Scorpion’s waist. She pointed. “That one, then press send.”
The Scorpion did so.
A mile away, the bridge erupted. The massive explosion sent cars and trucks flying as it ripped apart a span of the bridge. Chunks of concrete and sections of twisted metal flew skyward. In an outward flowing wave, the windows of the vehicles imploded, sending bits of glass to the surface of the bridge. The Scorpion and those with her felt the force of the explosion in their chests as the blast wave struck them, even from that distance, pushing them back slightly. A massive cloud flowed outward from the site of the explosion as the fragments of the bridge rained down, splashing into the water.
“Damn!!” Clint exclaimed, pulling his headphones from his head, his face filled with joyful awe.
“Shit, homegirl, that was tight!” Manny said, laughing as he watched the sections of bridge around the focal point of the explosion begin to collapse into the bay.
Pulling Lizette to her, the Scorpion looked into her eyes. “Nice job, baby.”
They kissed passionately, much to the pleasure of the two men, who watched slyly out of the corners of their eyes, knowing that staring openly would only put them on the Scorpion’s bad side.
When they finished, the Scorpion nodded.
“Alright. Tomorrow we take out the Dumbarton bridge.”<
br />
CHAPTER SEVEN
Central California
Sitting in the passenger seat of the Prius, Daniel gazed out the window, watching the farmlands of Central California go by. Frustrated, he sighed heavily, not realizing it was his fifth time doing so in the last ten minutes.
Keeping her eyes on the road ahead, Serafina said, “Alright, we get it. You’re frustrated.”
Turning to look at her, Daniel’s face showed confusion before he realized what she meant. “What? Oh yeah...sorry.”
Reaching out with her right hand, Serafina rubbed his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
Daniel nodded, looking at the folded map in his hands. “I know,” he began, before turning to look out the window again. “It’s bad enough I can’t help with the driving, but if I can’t see clearly beyond twenty yards, how will I be able to shoot?”
“You’ll manage,” she responded, glancing over at him. While she was trying to comfort him, she quietly hoped his vision would clear up. If the threats they’d face during the remainder of their drive to San Francisco were anything like those they’d already faced, it’d be better to fight them from a distance.
“I can help drive, too,” Ashley offered.
“Thanks, Ash, I’m doing okay for now, but I’ll let you know if I need a break” her stepmother replied, looking in the rearview and catching the teenager’s eye.
Daniel turned towards the back, where Brenna was sandwiched between Ashley and Paul. “You’ll definitely get a turn driving. We have to keep moving if we want to have any chance of catching up to them.”
“Okay,” his daughter replied, nodding. “I kind of miss driving anyway.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t as fun as what you’re used to.”
“I know.”
Daniel smiled at the girl reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll handle it just fine. On a more serious note, with me unable to shoot well, if we run into conflict, it might be on you to help Auntie deal with anyone - or anything - that comes looking for trouble.”
Ashley nodded, then pointed at the small compartment on the rear door. “It’s loaded with the safety on.”
“Great job,” Daniel said, smiling. He reminded himself that he needed to stay positive for the family’s sake. If things got tough, they’d need to believe they’d survive.
And it was still on him to take the lead in defending the family. If he had to empty a clip into the fuzzy shape of an oncoming attacker, he would. If they kept coming, he’d use a knife.
Or a boot.
Or his fists.
“I can help, too,” Brenna added, smiling as she held the bow that rested against her thigh. Ever since being taught to shoot by Janet, their neighbor in Big Bear, she habitually kept the beautifully carved bow and soft leather quiver close at hand.
Paul spoke up as well. “Same here.” From his spot in the seat behind Serafina, he reached down, picked up his bow slightly, then nodded. “Especially if we find that fat jerk.”
Daniel smiled. The young man had grown and matured over the last two weeks, reaching a point where he understood that protecting yourself and the ones you cared about was one of life’s necessities. Whereas before he’d stand back, watch, and hope violence wouldn’t come his way, now he kept himself ready to respond if it did. In the world they lived in, it was the only way to survive.
Stay watchful.
Be prepared to fight.
Always.
Turning back to face the road again, Daniel found himself thinking about Isabella. Much like Paul had, the small, thin, dark skinned girl with her long black hair and dark eyes had quickly become part of their family. He reasoned their rapid acceptance into the family was characteristic of the situation they all faced, basically an amplification of something he’d found true in the past.
When faced with tough challenges, people either came together or struggled by themselves.
During multiple points in his Navy career, he’d worked for tyrants, people who screamed and yelled and put down unyielding edicts that required nothing less than full compliance. They treated the officers and enlisted service members as little more than workers, people who were there only to do as ordered and not expected to provide feedback or suggestions.
What he’d realized after the fact was that the friendships he’d made were some of the strongest and most enduring of all those he’d made during his career. The bond they’d formed while faced with a common ‘enemy’ (in title only), was strong for one primary reason: it had to be. They needed to lean on each other, to support each other, and to help each other when possible. They vented to each other, joked with one another, and teased one another, but through it all, they stuck together.
Similar to those situations, but in a much more intensified way, mankind was faced with a challenge unlike anything they’d ever faced. While there had been plagues in the past, none of those introduced something as horrible and terrifying as the transformation that occurred in people infected by the Rage virus. It was enough to make those around them wonder whether or not there truly was hope for the human race.
But in the midst of all the chaos, by and large, people were coming together, finding strength both in numbers and in each other. Some came together for good, others for evil. Eventually, the two sides would clash.
It was inevitable.
History had shown it to be in man’s nature to seek out conflict.
Sure, the smartest thing for people to do right now was to come together in the interest of the common good, to help each other survive this nightmare, but instead, there were those that saw something different.
They saw opportunity.
The opportunity to take what they normally couldn’t have, to do things society would never accept them doing, to act in ways that were detrimental to the very survival of their world.
So there would be conflicts, just like the one he and his family had been part of in Big Bear, and while his family and those that fought with him had emerged victorious at the end of the battle, Daniel had no illusions about the fact that they very easily could have lost that fight. It took everything they had, plus a lot of luck, along with the help of strangers - including Logan - for them to prevail.
But they had, and in the end, he had to believe good would win.
From everything he’d seen, people like Joe Reilley, people who were solely focused on themselves, were the exception, and they likely wouldn’t last long.
He certainly wouldn’t last long if Logan got his hands on him.
Serafina’s voice brought him back to the present. “Sign ahead.”
Looking out the windshield again, he saw a green shape on the right side of the road, its face still too blurry for him to read at its distance.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“It’s for the thirty-three north,” his wife replied.
Daniel held the map up so he could find their location. “Okay, it looks like we’ve got about...forty miles until we reach the one fifty-two.”
“Sounds good.”
The plan she’d agreed on with Logan was that they’d take the 152, while he’d continue on and take the 130. They both saw it as unlikely that Joe would drive all the way up to the 580 before heading towards San Francisco, since that route would take him through more congested metropolitan areas.
“Forty miles to the one fifty-two, so what, about one thirty, one forty to San Fran?” She asked, pulling the wheel to the left to avoid the burned out husk of a car on the right side of the road.
“Yeah, that looks right,” Daniel replied, looking at the map. “Somewhere around there.”
“Kay,” she glanced at the fuel gage, then added. “We’ll probably need to get more gas at some point. This car is really good at conserving fuel, but we’re at just under half a tank, and I’d feel more comfortable if we didn’t have to worry about it.”
“Makes sense,” Daniel replied, nodding. “Maybe when we get close to the one fifty-two, we’ll look for a car
to get gas from. Take the opportunity to use the bathroom, too?”
Serafina scoffed. “Use the bathroom? You mean, ‘pee behind a bush?’”
Daniel shook his head. “Yeah, well, okay, fine. Take a piss, then.”
“Don’t be gross, Dad,” Brenna cautioned from the back seat.
Looking back at her, Daniel smiled. “Sorry.” His eyes settled on the doll she was holding in her lap.
“What’s that?”
Brenna held it up. “President Martinez. I know Isabella will want it.”
“Her hero, hunh?”
“Definitely.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Virginia
Conscious of the odor that came from him, Jonathan Reed wiped his brow again, using the white towel Sergeant Mason had given him. The briefing room was warm, in part because of the number of people gathered within the small space and in part because of the lack of air conditioning. Power consumption was being closely tracked, and air conditioning was only provided for spaces with critical equipment and/or perishable items. Likewise, refrigerator use had been curtailed, so he knew the can of Coke Zero that was sitting in front of the President’s spot at the head of the table would be room temperature at best.
Popping open the top of his water bottle, he took another drink, still trying to replenish the fluids he’d lost during his morning room in the stifling heat. He still had the bottle at his lips when the President walked into the briefing room.
Pulling the bottle away from his mouth quickly, he stood up from his chair. Standing at attention, he looked straight ahead, his eyes fixing on the wrinkled button up shirt of the man across from him. Like everyone else, his clothes bore the signs of minimal care. They were clean, but not pressed or starched. Minimal power use meant minimal power use. Irons and steamers were non-essential items, and therefore unauthorized.
Feeling the man’s eyes on his, Reed looked up and nodded. He understood.
Surviving Rage | Book 4 Page 3
