Surviving Rage | Book 4

by Arellano, J. D.

  Simply put, they were building an army.

  More importantly, they’d made it clear that Varrio Diablo was in charge of this part of the Bay area.

  No one would stand in their way.

  But since the Scorpion ambushed Leon and took control of the gang, things had been going in the wrong direction. Instead of growing, their numbers had leveled off while their turf was decreasing in size. They were giving up valuable resources in exchange for a concentration of power. Sure, they were more secure, but they were rapidly depleting the food supply and doing little to replenish it.

  Given the chance, he would do things differently. Rule with a heavy hand, take what you want. That was his motto.

  But here he was, following the Scorpion’s orders, watching those pieces of shit take what had belonged to Varrio Diablo 24 hours prior.

  He glared in the direction of the men in the Black SUV on the street. In return, the driver of the SUV , a lean, muscled black man with cornrows, rolled down his window and put up a pair of fingers in a ‘Peace’ sign, smiling as he did so.

  “This is fucking bullshit,” Antonio said, shaking his head as the SUV drove away. He spat on the street, wishing he was putting the loogie in the driver’s face instead.

  A shorter, slightly less muscular man named Ernesto placed the back of his hand against the bigger man’s midsection, trying to keep him in check.

  “Easy, Esé, Scorpion’s orders. Everything east of the one oh one belongs to Skull Crusher now.” Bringing a joint up to his mouth, he took a long puff, then offered it to the other man. “Here. Take a hit.”

  “Nah, I’m good right now,” Silva replied, oblivious to the fact that someone was watching and listening to him. Reaching down into the back pocket of his sagging khaki pants, he pulled out a large folding knife and flicked it open in the routine fashion he’d mastered.

  Bringing it up, he began using it to clean bits of dirt and grime from under his nails. Grinning as he looked at his hands, he said, “Plus, I already gutted a couple of those pendejos in the liquor store over there.” He lifted his chin, indicating a location across the street.

  “Shit, homie, are you serious?”

  Silva smiled. “Hell yeah, dog. I was tryna get my drink and those fuckers was in there, tryna take all the good shit.”

  Ernesto looked at him, concern showing on his face, even after the hits from the joint. He shook his head. “I don’t know if that was smart, Esé.”

  Silva scoffed. “Shit, whatever, homie. We can’t just give up everything.”

  “I know man, but the Scorpion…”

  “Can suck my dick,” the big man finished, looking over and grinning at him. Looking down at the joint, he added, “You know what, I will take a hit. Pass that shit.”

  Ernesto passed it to him, shaking his head once more.

  A lithe figure in the shadows slipped away, unnoticed.

  Leaning back in his chair, Antonio Silva brought the bottle of tequila up to his mouth and took a drink as he watched the Scorpion stand from her chair and move to the front of the room. His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at the beautiful, dark-haired woman distrustfully.

  The group of people gathered in the briefing room of what had been the San Jose Police Headquarters were considered her ‘deputies’ - those she trusted the most and tasked to take on the toughest challenges, and neither he nor Ernesto had been part of the group prior to this evening.

  In total there were nine of them: six men, including Antonio and Ernesto, and three women, the most notable of which was the woman named Lizette, who they called “Bang” because of her skill with explosives. The woman sat at the front of the room, her chair angled in a way that allowed her to watch the people in the room as the Scorpion began to speak.

  “Alright,” she began, pacing the scuffed tiled floor in front of them. “We’ve got a few things to discuss. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a small vial, uncapped it, and brought it up in front of her. She used a pinky to scoop some of the white powder from within the vial, then brought it into her nostril and inhaled. She paused, savoring the feel of the drug entering her system, then capped the vial and stuffed it back into her pocket.

  “First of all, I’d like to say that things are going very well. I like the way we’ve pulled back in, consolidating our strength so that we can protect what’s ours. That’s good - it allows us to better control the people inside our territory, which is important.

  “Control is always important. Remember that,” she said with an air of finality.

  She looked around the room, her eyes momentarily settling on each of them, including Antonio’s. Confident and arrogant, he remained slouched in his chair as their eyes met. After a second, she moved on.

  “We also executed turnover of the territory east of the one oh one, like I ordered.” Stepping over to their side of the room, she looked over at where Antonio and Ernesto sat and pointed at them. “You two were involved in that, right?”

  Antonio nodded slightly before taking another sip from the bottle of tequila.

  Ernesto nodded more enthusiastically, adding, “Yes, Scorpion.”

  “Great, great,” she replied, nodding. She waved her hand forward, encouraging them to come to her. “Come on up here, will you?”

  Ernesto got up quickly and stepped forward, eager to please the woman. Antonio slowly set the bottle down and got up, making sure he stood to his full height, wanting her to understand just how much bigger he was than her.

  Following behind Ernesto, he watched as the woman shook his friend’s hand, looking him in the eye. “Good job, Ernesto.”

  ‘Oh great,’ he thought, forcing himself not to roll his eyes, though he felt the need to. He didn’t need her bullshit appreciation.

  As Ernesto stepped out of the way, Antonio kept his narrowed eyes locked on the woman’s face as she looked up at him. He extended his hand expectantly, ready to squeeze hers with just enough pressure to let her know that he could break every bone in her hand.

  Without warning, a hot searing pain lanced up his forearm.

  Looking down, he found his big, heavily muscled forearm flayed open from the wrist to the elbow. The flesh fell outward, exposing the bone before blood gushed up from within as if it’d been turned on at a spigot.

  His eyes widened in shock as he looked back at the Scorpion.

  “I figured I’d enjoy this more than sucking your dick, Puta.” She said, glaring at him through dark eyes that burned with an intensity that hadn’t been there a second before.

  Head spinning from the sudden loss of blood, Antonio stumbled backwards, taking two steps before collapsing to the floor as his life’s blood fled his body in a heavy stream, pooling around him.

  In less than a minute, he was dead.

  Looking around the room, the Scorpion’s eyes paused momentarily on each of the others’ before coming to rest on Ernesto’s.

  “Does anyone else have a fucking problem with me?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Central California

  Running as fast as her thin legs would carry her, Isabella raced away from the gas station, breathing heavily as she tried to escape. The sounds of her sneakers slapping the pavement seemed to echo in the unnaturally still air, and she knew if she didn’t find somewhere to hide quickly, Joe Reilley would have no problem locating her and taking her prisoner again.

  Looking to her right, she saw the small diner. The bodies hanging out the window scared her. What if they woke up and tried to eat her?

  Across the road, the windows of the McDonald’s were covered in blood, making it look like something from one of those scary movies her mother never let her watch.

  Mister Reilley’s loud, angry voice was yelling back near the gas station, calling her name.

  She ran faster.

  Ahead, at the end of the small street was the Holiday Inn she’d seen from the car. The long, three-story building would offer lots of places to hide. She’d find an empty room, one withou
t any dead people in it, and hide. She’d stay quiet so the man wouldn’t be able to find her. Eventually, he’d have to give up.

  ‘And then what, Izzie?’ she asked herself. She had no idea where she was. She had no idea how to get back to Brenna, Ashley, Mrs. Alvarado, or her husband, the only people left in the world that actually cared about her.

  ‘Except maybe Mister Logan’ she added, thinking of how the nice man had been to her, giving her that President Martinez doll. ‘But he’s back there with them, too,’ she reminded herself.

  So what exactly was her plan? Hide until the bad man left, then just wait there and hope the others would find her? They didn’t know where she was, either.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told herself as she neared the front of the hotel. ‘Get away from that jerk, then figure the rest out.’ She raced between a pair of parked cars, briefly hesitating as she imagined the doors opening and hands reaching out from them.

  Breathless, she pushed on, dashing towards the covered entrance to the building.

  She skidded to a stop, her eyes widening as they registered the scene within the lobby of the hotel.

  The dead were everywhere, flung about like ragdolls. Blood covered the windows. Furniture had been knocked aside or flipped over. Luggage had been thrown, causing their contents to spill out onto the floor, only to soak up the blood there.

  Nearest the door, the body of a young blonde girl, close to Isabella’s age, lay on the floor. Her right arm was outstretched, still reaching for the door. Her eyes and mouth were open, frozen in shock and terror. A thick piece of wood that looked like the leg of one of the chairs protruded from the center of her back.

  Isabella stood there, frozen in shock, as she looked into the lobby. The glass doors and windows were still intact, but barely. Each was spiderwebbed with cracks that extended from where something heavy had impacted them.

  Something moved inside the dim confines of the lobby.

  Backing away, she moved behind one of the pillars that supported the cover for the driveway.

  One of the infected, a tall, thin white man with a receding hairline emerged from behind the check-in counter, moving slowly as he shuffled forward. The man’s uniform shirt was bloody and torn, hanging half-off his thin frame as he moved slowly. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, and he stumbled sideways a few times like a drunk before falling to his knees. Falling forward, he caught himself with his hands and began crawling towards the lobby doors.

  ‘He sees me!’ Isabella thought, tensing her body as she prepared to run.

  The man’s hand came down on the leg of the young girl and yanked her backwards, towards him. Her lifeless body flopped as she was dragged across the tiled floor of the lobby by the man. He pulled her in front of him, drew back his head slightly, then lunged forward with his open mouth, sinking his teeth into her thigh.

  Isabella closed her eyes and looked away, unable to watch. She felt tears forming in her eyes as she thought of how the girl had died and was now being eaten.

  Swallowing, she took a breath and turned away from the pillar.

  And found herself looking down the barrel of a gun.

  Joe Reilley grinned at her.

  “Gotcha, bitch.”

  Reaching forward with his left hand, he grabbed her hair and pulled her towards him, bringing her face close to his. His breath reeked as he snarled at her.

  “Don’t fucking try that shit again, you understand?”

  Too afraid to respond, Isabella simply stared at him through eyes wide with fear.

  Slinging his rifle behind his back, Reilley brought his right hand up and slapped her hard, rocking her head sideways and stunning her.

  “Understand?”

  Unable to form words, she nodded as tears fell from her eyes. She tasted blood in her mouth as she swallowed, trying to keep it together.

  Maintaining his grip on her hair, he dragged her back down the street to the gas station.

  “I hope you fucking went already,” he said, throwing her forward. She fell to the ground near the entrance to the convenience store, feeling bits of broken glass embed themselves in her palms as she hit the ground.

  “Because if you didn’t, I’ll let you shit all over yourself,” he finished, sneering at her. “Now get up, we’ve got some work to do.”

  Rising to her feet, she stared at the ground as she waited for his instructions. He reached out and pushed her, urging her to step through the frame of the door and into the small store. “Get that gas container there,” he ordered. She did as he said, not wanting to be hit again.

  “Back outside.”

  Carrying the jug, she stepped back through the door.

  “Back to the car.”

  She walked.

  “Stop.”

  She stopped.

  Opening the door, he reached in and grabbed the rope that had previously bound her legs. He made her lie facedown on the ground while he tied her legs, then had her put her arms behind her back and tied those, too. She heard his footsteps fade as he walked away, and for a few minutes she was afraid he would simply leave her there before she heard him return. She heard him grunt slightly before she saw the ends of a garden hose fall to the ground near her.

  He grabbed her shoulder and turned her over.

  He smiled wickedly as he looked down at her. “Alright,” he began, holding the hose in front of her. “Time for you to learn to siphon gas.”

  She failed three times, earning a smack in the back of her head each time, before generating enough suction to bring the fuel from the SUV up to the top of the hose. It flooded her mouth, shocking her with its acrid taste and making her pull the hose from her mouth. The gas flowed from the hose, splashing on the ground as she gagged.

  “Into the container, dumbass!” Reilley yelled.

  He shoved her aside, sending her to the pavement as he grabbed the hose and stuck the end into the plastic red jug. The fuel splashed into the container as Isabella wretched, trying desperately to get the taste of gasoline out of her mouth.

  Reilley ignored her, choosing instead to stay focused on the gas flowing into the jug.

  Isabella’s mouth and throat burned, making it difficult for her to speak. “Can I have something to drink?” she managed.

  “Maybe,” Reilley replied, remaining focused on his task.

  “Please…”

  “Shut up.”

  With the gas jug nearly completely filled, Joe pulled the end of the hose from the container and quickly put his thumb over it before raising it up above the level of the SUV gas tank.

  “Stand up. Come here.” He ordered.

  Struggling, she rolled over, made her way up to her knees, then to her feet. As she rose, she slipped sideways, falling into the SUV to help herself stay upright. With her hands still bound, she lifted them high enough to take hold of the hose.

  “Hold it right like that. Don’t move it.” Reilley ordered before walking away, carrying the jug over to the Prius. Popping open the door to the fuel tank, he quickly removed the cap and stuck the nozzle to the gas jug into the tank. When the gas had been poured into the car’s tank, he screwed the cap back on, got into the car, and turned the key in the ignition. The tank showed itself to be full. Satisfied, he got out of the car and returned to where Isabella stood leaning against the SUV.

  Grabbing the hose from her hand, he tossed it to the ground. The gas flowed out of the end of the hose as the SUV’s tank drained onto the pavement.

  “Drink…” Isabella pleaded.

  Reilley growled, then walked past her and reentered the store. When he returned, he carried two bottles of Coke. Placing one under his arm, he unscrewed the cap of the other bottle and stuck into her hands. She lifted it to her mouth, poured a large amount in, and began swishing it around. After a few seconds, she spit it out onto the ground, then repeated the process.

  After three rinses, the taste of gasoline had finally dissipated, allowing her to enjoy the taste of the soda. She took
another drink, then thought of following it with a second before stopping.

  Reilley had said they wouldn’t stop again.

  Lowering the bottle, she looked at him. “That’s enough for now.” Though thanking him felt misplaced, she knew her present and future was entirely in his hands. ‘Best to try to stay on his good side,’ she reasoned to herself. “Thank you,” she told Reilley, nodding slightly.

  The man glared at her. Without saying a word, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to the car. With her feet still bound, she could only shuffle as she struggled to move her feet quick enough to keep up.

  Opening the door, he shoved her inside the small car and slammed the door behind her. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to catch herself, and she fell forward, landing face down on the seat.

  As Reilley got into the driver seat, he noticed the sun was setting.

  ‘Dammit,’ he thought, as he started the car. The stop, combined with the girl’s attempted escape, had wasted over an hour. Glaring at the girl, he pulled the car out of the gas station lot and onto the small road that ran parallel to the highway. As they rolled through the stop sign where the road intersected the one that led to the Holiday Inn, he saw a pair of infected running towards them from that direction.

  “So long, you fucks,” he said, as he veered onto the ramp that led back to the freeway.

  Accelerating as the car reentered the road, he was unaware that his tail lights were visible from miles away.

  “Gotcha,” Logan said aloud, pressing down on the truck’s accelerator.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Central California

  “You know,” Daniel said, using his teeth to pull off another piece of baked tofu from the thin square he held, “I’m trying not to complain, but I do miss having hot meals.”