“There’s ammo there, somewhere. Mark my fucking words. Worse comes to worse, we’ve got ourselves another LMG, right? We can never have too many of those,” Ruiz had said as we were loading up.
We packed five overnight bags filled with extra rations and more than our share of ammunition.
If we get stuck, if the tides turn against us, we’re ready for it.
Katia is driving and Ruiz is riding shotgun. I’m in back sitting within kissing distance of Tyrell’s ass.
“If we get swarmed or something, don’t go wasting your ammunition,” Ruiz says to me while scanning the road ahead, “we’ll just run through em’.”
“You want me to pass that up to Tyrell?”
“No, he’s been out on enough of these. He knows the drill, but if he gets pegged by a bullet, or if some Biter takes a lucky leap and rips him in half that .50 is your responsibility. No bullshit. You knock him aside and you get up there as quick as you can.”
I nod.
No pressure.
Katia navigates a familiar path. Turning inside, outside, and around cars that have been pushed aside during previous treks beyond the gate. The sun is masked by cloud. Everything seems pale and gray. Blackbirds crowd the street before us, pecking at the pavement. They scatter at our approach, throwing a thick black curtain across the windshield that disappears as quickly as it appears, leaving behind only dust and feathers.
“Okay, you’re gonna hang a right up here at Park.” Ruiz taps a finger against the glass. “They said it’s all the way down, just before the Tollway. Stop a mile or so out and we’re gonna hike in.” Ruiz shakes his head. “Man, these bastards really are getting closer.”
“The grid is getting smaller,” Katia says.
“Looks that way.”
Park Road is all lampposts and big houses, big names and big money. We’d gone through a neighborhood like this once before; me, Momma, Bethany, and Lee. Lee had had the big idea of looting the houses for supplies. I’d shot it down at the time, afraid of catching a bullet. Twisted up at the idea of invading someone else’s world. But, after desperately climbing through so many windows and back doors with Bethany these last few weeks, I can say with confidence that Lee had it right. You want to survive, you’ve got to kick down some doors. You’ve got to invade some worlds and create some victims. It’s that or become the victim. It’s messed up. But, these are messed up times.
“We’ve gone through most of these places, house by house, room by room.” Ruiz is staring out the window too, watching the neighborhood blink by like a slide show and apparently reading my thoughts. “It’s amazing, really, how much shit those people accumulated. What’s even more amazing is how little of it is actually useful.”
“I had that exact same thought back at the storage lockers.”
“I mean, yeah, I’m sure it served them well when the corner Barista was still serving soy lattes and the lawn guys were still showing up to do their chores for them, but useful for long-term survival? Forget about it. You could shove a candle up their ass and hand them a book of matches and they’d still be lost in the dark.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Funny how the deck reshuffled. Now we’re the one-percent.”
“For real though, I think it’s the rough and tumble, you know, folks like us that came up from shit that were really able to grab this thing by the horns and wrangle it. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Tim, it’s actually a compliment, but, you seem like a guy that wasn’t born on the top rung of the ladder. Your manners are intact. You have zero expectations. You take shit as it comes at you. Am I right?” Ruiz’s eyes remain glued to the road as he speaks.
“My roots are definitely humble. We lived in the same three bedroom house most of my life. It was a very one-horse kind of town. Sure, we had some folks with their money, running around, flashing it, all fancy. But for the most part, everyone got up and put their jeans on one leg at a time, just happy to have another day on earth.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Me and Katia, well, we weren’t quite as blessed early on.” He pats Katia on the knee. “Parents were immigrants, you know? Took a while before poppa started bringing home the bacon. Didn’t see our first house till I was thirteen. But still, we came up. Not like these motherfuckers here. They never learned how to survive. We did. Look who’s still here.”
“Damn straight,” I agree.
Ruiz turns in his seat. “Here, before I forget.” Ruiz hands me a small white bottle with a half torn green label. “Wire pulling gel.”
“What for?”
“That suppressor.”
I’ve got a suppressed M4A1 Carbine sitting across my lap and an HK USP Tactical .45 holstered to my side with its own suppressor tucked away in my hip pocket.
“Don’t use it on the rifle suppressor. Won’t do shit for the volume anyway. Dab some on the bottom of that HK suppressor. Just a dab. Shake that shit down in there before you screw it on. She’ll whisper like a lover. It’ll only last you a mag or so, keep that in mind.”
“You need it back?”
“Nah, hold onto it. I’ve got plenty.”
“Hey, eyes up, we got Rabid at our two o’ clock,” Tyrell alerts us.
Ruiz swings around, tightens his grip on the rifle strapped against his chest, and turns slightly in his seat. I do the same. I curl my knee against the door, crack the window slightly, and place the muzzle of my suppressed M4A1 carbine across the top of the glass.
There’s a small group of them wandering the parking lot of the neighborhood country club. They wear tattered blazers and cut off ties that dangle precariously around their necks.
“It’s a little chilly for a round of golf,” I say.
We pass them by slowly, navigating cramped quarters, bumping across torn off car doors, fallen lampposts, and decaying bodies.
“No one shoot unless you have to. Let’s conserve the ammo and keep ourselves under the radar,” Ruiz says as he tracks the group through the red dot sight of his rifle.
We relax once they’re in the rearview, dropping our sights and scooting back in our seats.
“We shouldn’t be too far out. That was Silverlake...so it should be...” Ruiz trails off, checking the green street placards perched above the stop signs. “Right there, River Chase. He said River Chase is about a mile out from where they’re at. Pull it up on the sidewalk.”
Katia does as instructed. We can barely feel anything as we take the curb thanks to the 37-inch military grade tires and the 17-inch ground clearance provided by the suspension system.
At least, I learned a thing or two about military transport from my brief time in mechanical.
She brings us to a stop on a stretch of withering grass; pale green with deep ruts cut by tires and the shoes of fleeing survivors.
Tyrell drops down from his post. He takes up his rifle, a Colt 9mm Submachine Gun, and checks the magazine before reloading it and strapping it across his chest, just like Ruiz.
Ruiz had offered me a rifle a sling back at the complex.
They’re good for transitions, he’d said.
I’d tried one on. I just didn’t like the feel. If my mag goes empty, I’m either going to reload, if I’ve got the window, or I’m going to throw down and go for my secondary.
Fuck the suppressor.
“Alright, let’s review the game plan.” Ruiz turns around in his seat, propping one foot beneath his thigh. “We should be about a mile out. We’re going to cut back behind these mini-mansions. The scout said once we hit the other side of the neighborhood it’ll be a brick wall about six feet high, on the other side is a row of bushes we can use for some concealment and then we’ve got our checkpoint a few feet up the main road.”
“Sniper sees us coming over that wall and we’re fucked,” Tyrell says.
Ruiz nods in agreement. “You’re right, but according to the info we got, they should be facing away from us. The two guys on foot are facing our way, but, their line of sight should be
blocked by the gas station.”
“Man, I hope they’re right.”
“Well, they haven’t missed a beat yet.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I comment offhandedly.
Ruiz looks at me like I just shit the bed. “Really? You trying to fuckin’ jinx us?”
“I...I wasn’t trying...”
“Fuck that, you’re going over the wall first,” Tyrell says.
“Yep, I’ll even hoist you up myself,” Ruiz agrees without hesitation.
“Sorry babe, you’re cute and all, but you just nominated yourself to run point.” Her look is almost sympathetic.
Over the wall!
“It’s whatever, I’ll take the wall first,” I say, trying to play it off as if it’s no big thing. Like that time when I was a kid playing out by the tracks that ran near our house, it was Bethany, me, and a couple of her friends. There was this broken down old shack. The tin door looked like it had been slain in the spirit and had gotten stuck halfway between heaven and hell, just hanging there in the shadows. The two front windows were boarded up and spider webs and black mold filled in the gaps. The walls were rickety and termite ridden, bowing in the middle, threatening to send the roof plummeting down into the darkened interior.
“Who’s going in?” Bethany had whispered, like there was something sinister watching us through the cracks, waiting for our next move.
I’d pulled the short straw.
It’s whatever!
It was the middle of summer, but I shivered all the way up to that tin door. I kicked it, hard; knocking it out of the hands of whatever invisible force had been keeping it from falling. After all the buildup there had been nothing more than cobwebs and broken beer bottles inside.
We cleaned it out and made it a fort.
This time though...this time is different.
I know what is on the other side of that wall.
Trained killers with steady hands and loaded magazines.
“Alright, well, we got our point man. We got our gear. Let’s roll out.”
We walk, spread out, each of us covering a different sector as we step lightly across patchy front yards and work our way through, around, and over privacy fences.
“It’s all house and no yard,” I say as we move around a boxy modern mini-mansion with a seashell paint job and blacked out windows and trim.
“What do you expect; these people were all work and no play.” Ruiz takes the corner into the backyard, slow, leading the way with the muzzle of his rifle.
“They had some big ass houses though. I know I wouldn’t complain.” Tyrell takes up the rear, carrying our rations and other supplies on his back.
“Nah, you’d still complain.” Katia nudges him lightly as she moves into the backyard, swinging her swords in circles as she keeps her eyes up for potential threats. “Pretty quiet today, no biters, no bodies.”
“Ah, come on, sis, now you’re fucking jinxing it.”
“Uh-oh, over the wall for you,” I say.
I’m only half-serious.
“Ha, fuck that.” She runs up to me and kisses me on the mouth and nose. “You’ve got the gun, not me.”
“Okay, I don’t need to see all that. Let’s keep moving.” Ruiz slides a hand between us.
Katia kisses him on the cheek playfully before slinking away.
Ruiz doesn’t say anything, just huffs and goes back to scanning the yard.
Tyrell appears beside me. “So, you and big man’s sister, eh?”
“Yep.”
“Alright then bruh, alright then!” He brushes me with his shoulder before moving on. “My nigga,” he chuckles.
Ruiz holds a spring loaded gate-door open for us as we move into the next yard. I take point and Katia falls in behind me, swords at the ready.
“I’m kind of itching for a fight, aren’t you? This shit gets the adrenaline moving.” Her lips are practically on my earlobe, she’s standing so close.
“Actually, no, not really. I’d be okay if we didn’t run into anything.”
“Really? This sneaking around isn’t getting your blood pumping?”
“I didn’t say that at all. I’m a fucking engine room right now, but it’s definitely not because I’m excited. Terror would be a more accurate description.”
“Well, if I don’t get a release valve for this pressure while we’re out here, I’m gonna have to take it out on you when we get back.”
My heart pumps faster. My arms and legs tingle. “Jesus, your brother is going to hear.”
“Shit, my brother already knows.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “He knows what?”
She falls against me and knees me in the ass to get me moving again. “That we fucked.”
“You told him?” The Rabid and the military are suddenly the least of my worries.
“God, no. Ruiz has got a sixth sense though. I know he knows.”
“But, he hasn’t said anything?”
“He doesn’t need to.” She laughs. “Relax, Tim, I’m a big girl. I can handle my business. Just don’t do me wrong and I won’t have to get him to kill you.” She nuzzles my neck before kneeing me in the ass again.
We continue our trek past lonely swing sets and leaf covered in-ground pools, which now serve as breeding grounds for mosquitoes, and God knows what else. Lawn chairs are strewn at odd angles, umbrella covered table tops are tipped over onto their sides, and there are broken dishes and cups to match. There’s meat left to rot on the grill, the charcoal now cold and waterlogged. It’s all such a crude photograph of the rich-and-not-so-famous.
Another gate. Another yard. Another life interrupted.
There’s a humming sound coming from around the next corner.
A dull throaty racket.
Wet.
Muffled.
Rabid!
“You hear it, too?” I ask Katia as she races past me through the next gate and crouches by the side of a teal colored palace.
“Yeah, come here, get down behind me.”
Ruiz and Tyrell take up at my back.
“Biters?” Ruiz asks.
“Yeah, we think so.”
“How many?”
“Don’t know, Katia is checking.”
She moves forward, staying low, working her way towards the corner on the balls of her feet. She sets one of the swords down and steadies herself against the wall.
Deep breath in. Steady out.
She slowly moves her face from cover. A bit at a time. Some cheek. A sliver of mouth. One eye. Just enough to see the three Rabid picking rotten flesh from a blackened and bloated corpse lying poolside.
She slides back into cover and holds three fingers up. “Save the ammo, I’ve got it,” she says retrieving her sword from the ground and preparing to lunge.
“Okay, sis, we’ll cover. Tim, you got her back?”
“Yep.”
“Nothing fancy, sis. Just get in and get out.”
“You know me.”
“Yeah, that’s my point.”
She stands and looks back to make sure we’re ready. “On me.” She winks.
Katia goes in, full sprint; the swords glinting in the sunlight, flowing up and down like silver pendulums as she pumps her arms. I follow her, my rifle up, I move left around the other side of the pool to get a better angle on the scene. The three Rabid notice her just before she closes the gap. The closest one stands, its back still turned. Katia uses her momentum and breaks into a pirouette. It’s fast. Her swords move like fan blades. They slice through the neck of the Rabid and send his head toppling to the asphalt. As the body falls, the other two Rabid rise from their meal, blackened flesh still hanging from their lips. One is dressed in a Hawaiian silk shirt and the other in a pair of denim overalls.
Katia could take them both. Right now. Two swords. Two heads. Be done with it.
A little smile dances across her lips. She opens her stance, places one foot behind the other, takes two steps back, and brings the sword
s up to chest height. “Bring it bitches!” She kicks the decapitated head by her left foot into the pool.
She’s toying with them.
“See, this is the shit I’m talking about, she’s always got to do this.” Ruiz is crouched on one knee beside me, one eye glued to his sight, ready to intervene if necessary. “Be ready in case she fucks it up.”
She times it with perfection. The one with the palm trees on his shirt charges at the head of the group. The one in the overalls is not far behind. Katia fakes right, plunges a sword into Hawaii’s chest and kicks down on the back of his right knee as he sails past her, putting him face down on the pavement and leaving her sword buried in his body. The Rabid in overalls swipes at her, slinging black blood and chunks of rotten meat as he lunges for her neck with his teeth. She flinches at the onslaught and steps back, anticipating the next move. He swipes again and she swings up at the same time, gripping the sword with both hands. She slices straight through his wrist. At the top of her swing, she flips the blade around and comes straight back down and opens him up like he’s a Ziploc bag, cutting him from sternum to pelvis. Gallons of thick meaty liquid splash to the ground. His innards dangle there, just above the pavement, like the contents of a broken electrical box. The sight of his guts dragging the ground doesn’t deter the biter. If anything, he charges in harder. His legs immediately get hung up in his intestines. He falls and bucks around on the ground like a lassoed hog, still reaching for her, his teeth still biting at the air. Katia backs away, that little smile still glued to her lips.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Ruiz grumbles, “just finish them already.”
Katia steps up beside the biter in overalls, plants a boot against cheek, and runs the blade through the top of his head. She turns her attention back to Hawaii, who’s just now pulling himself up from the ground. She buries her boot in the back of his other knee, simultaneously ripping her blade from his chest as he falls. Once he’s on his back, she plunges it through his eye, twisting it back and forth for good measure.
As she saunters over to us, her smile spreads as she twirls the black blood from the edges of her swords.
“Did you forget what we’re out here for?” Ruiz props his gun back over his shoulder, following Katia with an expectant glare as she moves to the grass behind him to finish cleaning the blades.
The Rabid: Rise Page 10
