Surviving Rage | Book 3

by Arellano, J. D.

  Sommer shrugged again, intentionally looking disappointed. “All I got is my Ruger.”

  Will looked at his men, then back at Sommer. He drew his pistol and pointed it at Sommer’s chest. “Let’s see it.”

  Sommer nodded. “It’s behind my back. I’m going to reach for it slowly.”

  Will nodded in understanding. “Nice and slow. Larry, get your fat ass over here.”

  The fat man shuffled aside as Sommer slowly withdrew his gun from behind his back, aware of the look Hank was giving him. He spoke softly to his friend out of the side of his mouth as Larry crossed in front of him. “It’s alright.”

  Passing the gun, butt first, to Will, he asked, “will that get us a drink and maybe a bite to eat?”

  Will grinned. “Tell you what. This,” he held up the gun, “will get you something to drink. I’m guessing your friend there has a gun as well. THAT will get you a bit to eat.”

  Sommer nodded, then looked over at Hank, locking eyes with the man. “Go ahead.” When Hank hesitated, he flared his nostrils and repeated himself. “Go ahead!”

  Shaking his head, Hank passed his gun to Will.

  Smiling the biker nodded. “Alright! This will work!” He moved to the side, motioning for Steve and Hank to pass. “Come on in.”

  Sommer led Hank into the bar, his eyes scanning the surroundings quickly and efficiently as the other man continued.

  “I hate to do that to ya, but things have been crazy, you know?”

  “I know.” Sommer replied flatly as his eyes settled on the forearm of a short, thickly muscled man that sat at the bar. One of the tattoos on the man’s arm consisted of four letters: AYUK.

  Sommer grinned.

  This wouldn’t be a waste of time at all.

  Will and his men ushered them forward, moving them towards the bar. Looking over his shoulder, the man noticed Larry following them inside. Reaching out, he motioned for his companions to continue on without him as he turned to face the fat man.

  “Larry, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  The man’s face began to turn red as he looked away from Will’s stare. “I...I...I’m thirsty.”

  Softening his gaze, Will tilted his head slightly as he looked at Larry. “Larry, let’s be realistic, now. Do you think you deserve a beer? After you let those men sneak up on you?”

  “I…” He shook his head, pouting. “They snuck up on me!”

  Will jutted his thumb towards the two newcomers. “Should I ask them if they snuck up on you?”

  Larry huffed. “No…”

  “Alright, then. Back to the porch.”

  “Can I at least have a beer? I’m sooo thirsty,” the man whined.

  Will exhaled through his nose loudly. He looked at Larry for several long seconds as he considered the request. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll compromise. Wendy, pour half a beer for Larry.”

  The woman behind the bar nodded, moving over to the tap. “Okay.” She grabbed a glass, filled it halfway, unconcerned about the foam that built up, then pushed back the tap. She passed the glass to one of Will’s men, who passed it to Will.

  “Here you go. Make it count.” He said, passing the glass to Larry.

  “Okay,” Larry replied, accepting the glass.

  Will motioned with his finger. “Go on, now.”

  The fat man turned and shuffled outside, holding his half-filled glass tightly in his hands.

  Will turned away, facing Steve and Hank again. “Alright, let’s get you two sumin’ to drink. Wendy?”

  “Two beers, comin’ up.” The woman responded, reaching for glasses. Slightly older than Sommer, he estimated her to be in her early thirties, with pale skin, small breasts, and a small waist, which she showed off with a half top that left her midriff exposed. Her brown hair was long, flowing down the center of her back, and her face was decidedly average. On any normal day, in normal circumstances, a man would walk by her on the street and not give her a second glance. Now, faced with the end of times, her decent looks, combined with her tight stomach and small, round butt, made her highly desirable.

  “Here you go,” The woman said, sliding two beers across the counter towards Steve and Hank.

  Sommer smiled at the woman.

  “Thanks.”

  Turning to Will, he asked, “Actually, do you mind if I take a leak first? We been on the road for hours, and I need to drain the main vein.”

  Will paused, looking at Sommer for a second before responding, nodding as he did. “Sure, no problem.” He turned to the man on his left, whose dark eyes were watching Sommer under the brim of his hat. “Mason, escort -“ he hesitated. “What’s your name, stranger?”

  “Steve Sommer.”

  “Summer, like the season?”

  Sommer’s mind quickly calculated that correcting the man would be a mistake.

  “Exactly,” he said, smiling. He gestured to his friend. “This is Hank. Hank Williams, actually.”

  Will grinned. “Like the singer?”

  Hank nodded, bringing his beer to his lips. “Yeah. My pop worshipped the guy.”

  “Alright. Sounds like a good dude.” He turned back to Mason. “Escort Steve here to the head.”

  The big man nodded, then looked at Sommer. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay.” Sommer turned away from the bar and allowed his eyes to scan the upper walls on the far side of the bar. Once he located the sign for the restrooms, his eyes continued to move, taking in his surroundings, including the bar’s occupants as his feet moved him towards the men’s room. There were two other women, one brown skinned, one black, both medium sized and relatively attractive. Aside from the two of them there was the man with the AYUK tattoo and two others, both predominantly Caucasian but mixed with something else, and shorter and a bit muscular than the man who had caught his eye.

  Reaching the door, Sommer placed his hand on it and pushed it open. Stepping into the well lit space, he paused, holding the door for the man behind him.

  “Thanks,” the man growled, entering the room behind him.

  Sommer walked to the stall instead of the urinal, then hesitated. “Mind if I take off my jacket?”

  The other man looked at him skeptically. ”I thought you just needed to take a piss?”

  Sommer shrugged, feigning embarrassment. “I didn’t want everyone to know I gotta take a shit…” he replied, letting his voice trail off.

  The man chuckled. “Alright. I understand. That’s fine. Set it there, on the counter.” He motioned towards the small, Formica-covered counter by the single sink basin.

  “Thanks,” Sommer replied, nodding. Looking downward, he pulled his jacket off of his left arm slowly. In one smooth motion, he whipped the garment forward, looping it around the other man’s neck. He yanked forward and down, pulling the man’s neck and head towards him as he brought his knee forward, thrusting it into the man’s chin, snapping his head backwards, stunning him.

  The man felt his head spinning as Sommer plunged a knife into his heart, severing an aorta. Twisting the blade as he pulled it out, Sommer grinned as he watched the man’s lifeblood seep out of him. He fell to his knees as his strength faded. His mouth worked, trying to form words as his brain tried to compute the math associated with the intense pain that emanated from his chest.

  With nothing left in him, he fell forward, collapsing on the tiled floor as Sommer stepped backwards.

  Sommer waited as the last of the man’s life left him. When he saw evidence of the man’s bowels and bladder letting go, he quickly stepped forward, stripping the man of his bike jacket and hat. He donned both as the man’s fluids flowed out onto the floor of the bathroom.

  Folding his knife, he slid it back into his pocket, then reached down and took the man’s gun, sliding it into his waistband behind his back.

  Grabbing the man under his armpits, he pulled the man’s body sideways, then twisted around so that he could drag the man out through the door. Backing up, he pulled the man with him as he p
ushed the door open with his back, showing the biker jacket and ball cap to the group in the bar.

  “Dammit!” He growled lowly as he dragged the man.

  “What the fuck?” Will exclaimed, standing up from his barstool. “Mason, what the fuck happened?”

  Ignoring him, Sommer kept dragging Mason’s body, knocking aside chairs as he left a trail of blood behind them. Keeping his head pointed towards the floor, his eyes moved constantly as more and more of the room came into his field of vision. The man with the tattoo was to his left when he heard footsteps approaching.

  Perfect.

  When Will and the other man were even with him, he hesitated, stopping in his tracks as the pair stopped alongside him, looking down at their friend. Confusion spread across their faces before realization did.

  It was already too late.

  Dropping the body, Sommer pulled the knife from his pocket, flicked it open with his thumb, and plunged it into Will’s heart, leaving it there as he spun, extracting the gun from his back, pointing it at the other man and pulling the trigger. The gun crashed loudly in the space, booming as it sent a bullet through the man’s face as it shredded flesh and bone.

  Spinning on his heel, Sommer aimed the gun at the man standing at the far end of the pool table near the window, and pulled the trigger again. The bullet caught the man in the upper shoulder, knocking him backwards. As he stumbled, his partner drew his gun and pointed it at Sommer.

  A pool stick flashed into view, landing squarely on the man’s nose, breaking it, sending a flood of blood streaming forth from his face. His eyes fluttered as he stepped backward, trying to regain his senses. Before he could, the end of the pool stick collided with the center of his forehead, caving it inward. He collapsed to the ground as Sommer stepped forward. Raising the pistol, he shot the other man in the chest, blasting a hole through his ribs, lungs, and back. The man lurched forward in shock before collapsing weakly on the floor as blood flowed from him, pooling around his body.

  Looking to his right, Sommer nodded at Hank.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Turning away from the two men dying on the floor, Sommer walked over to the black woman as Hank approached the Hispanic one. Sommer didn’t hesitate as he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet between the woman’s eyes. As the gun’s blast echoed through the space, Hank drove a knife into the Hispanic woman’s stomach, twisted it, then pulled it out, turning away, grinning as the woman cried out and clutched her stomach before falling to the floor.

  Sommer spun on his heel and strode over to the lone remaining man, the one with the “AYUK” tattoo. Stopping in front of him, Sommer looked down at the tattoo openingly, then back at the man.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding as he maintained eye contact.

  The other man smiled, extending his hand. “Randall.”

  Sommer took his hand, shaking it. “Steve. Good to meet you, brother.”

  “You, too, brother.”

  Looking towards the bartender, who stood there in stunned silence, her hands raised in surrender, Sommer asked, “Her?”

  Randal smirked. “She was with a black guy when we found her.”

  Sommer raised the gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the woman’s head. The back of her skull exploded outward, splattering the glass of the bar behind her with blood, bone, and brain. She crumpled the floor in a heap as silence settled in the open space of the bar.

  Sommer walked over to Will’s body, reached down and took the man’s gun from his belt. Tossing it to Hank, he nodded towards the porch.

  Hank disappeared through the door as Steve walked around behind the bar, stepping over the dead woman’s body. Pulling the beer tap, he poured three beers as the sound of gunfire came from outside. He put one beer in front of Randall, set another one in front of where he stood, then set a third in front of a space on the bar to his right.

  When Hank re-entered the bar, Sommer nodded towards the third beer.

  Waiting for the man to grab his beer, Sommer lifted his. When the others copied his motion, he grinned widely.

  “White Power,” he said, bringing the glass to his lips.

  “White Power,” the others echoed, mimicking his motion.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Outside of Victorville, California

  Serafina looked over at the passenger seat and smiled. Daniel had nodded off over an hour ago, resting his head against the window as she drove the quiet little car along Highway 395. She was keeping their speed below thirty, which at times seemed maddeningly slow, but with all of the abandoned cars that cluttered the narrow paved road, she needed the extra time to maneuver around them without having to take drastic measures.

  Though it had been stressful and time consuming, they’d managed to skirt around the edge of Victorville without issue by taking it slow and using roads that ran parallel to the highway. On numerous occasions, they stopped and hid from danger, positioning their vehicles in between or behind large trucks and SUVs as men with guns cruised by confidently, knowing few would dare to challenge them. It had been difficult to ignore the men’s brazen behavior, especially during the few times when the men shot randomly at survivors, gunning them down in the street, laughing as they did so.

  Seeing the men take lives in such an unconscionable manner made her blood boil, and she’d been tempted to rise up from her hiding place and open fire, sending bullets towards the brutal killers that preyed on the weak, but she reminded herself that their mission was clear: get Isabella to the protective zone.

  They had to keep her safe, and in doing so, possibly help the government find a cure for the Rage Virus.

  Nothing could interfere with that task.

  She also knew that the girls had experienced enough violence and bloodshed for several lifetimes, and exposing them to more would only scar them further. When this was all over, the entire family would likely benefit from counseling - if that sort of thing was available when/if the world began to recover.

  Daniel had finally agreed to let her drive when she’d caught him rubbing his eyes repeatedly. The man was running on fumes, clearly exhausted from stress and a lack of sleep. Though she and the girls had managed to find peace at night, resting well, as far as she could tell, her husband wasn’t sleeping more than four hours a night. Each night after the battle at the lodge, she’d woken in the early hours of the morning to use the bathroom and found him sitting by himself, staring outward from where they slept, watching for signs of danger. After the second occurrence, she’d asked him what was going on.

  ‘I can’t rest, knowing that someone may try to hurt you or the girls again,’ he explained the morning they started heading north. Looking up at her, his eyes were moist. ‘I almost lost you,’ he said, shaking his head as he looked down at his cup of coffee. ‘Nothing has ever felt worse than that did.’

  Serafina reached down and cupped his face with her hand. ‘Hey. I’m here, aren’t I?’

  Daniel nodded, conceding her point. After a few minutes of silence, he shook his head. ‘I feel like I won’t be able to rest well until we’re somewhere guarded and secure.’

  Serafina glanced back at her sleeping husband and smiled, knowing that the man’s commitment to the safety of her and the girls told more about the depths of the love he felt for them than words could ever convey.

  Checking the rearview mirror reflexively, she saw the blue Prius that Logan and Paul were in following them dutifully, keeping pace as it followed in her tracks. Logan had been driving the entire afternoon since they’d found the cars, and he was likely getting tired.

  Glancing towards the backseat, she saw Isabella leaning against Brenna as she slept, her head resting on the older girl’s shoulder, who was fast asleep as well. Next to the two of them, on the passenger side of the car, Ashley remained awake, looking out the window as Serafina guided the car between and around the vehicles on the road.

  Noticing Serafina looking towards h
er, she smiled. “Pretty quiet out here.”

  Serafina nodded. “Yes it is, and it’s not a bad thing. I’d rather not see people if we can help it.”

  Ashley looked away, gazing out the window again. After a moment, she said, “It’s weird.”

  “What’s that?”

  “On one hand, seeing people would be good, knowing that not everyone has been infected, but on the other, it seems like those who haven’t have gone crazy in a different way.”

  Serafina nodded. “It’s pretty scary to think after thousands of years of forward progress, it doesn’t take much for people to resort to the most basic instincts.”

  The two of them rode in silence for a few miles before Ashley spoke up again.

  “Want a bottle of water?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  The girl passed Serafina one of their filled reusable bottles before opening one for herself and drinking from it.

  “Do you think there will be a lot of people in San Francisco? Inside the protective zone?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I wonder if they’ll have hot food.”

  Serafina smiled. “God, I hope so.”

  “I know it’s all we have, but I’m getting pretty tired of protein bars, dried fruits, and canned beans.”

  Serafina chuckled softly. “Actually, so am I. What do you say we break out some of our emergency rations tonight?” The emergency rations came with a self-contained chemical heating pouch that heated the food, making it a little bit more palatable.

  “That sounds great.”

  “Okay, we’ll do that.”Glancing at the clock on the center display, she noticed it was nearly 5:45 in the evening. They’d have to stop for the day soon, and they still needed to find a place to rest. Passing her phone to the teenager, she asked her to open the map application. Though location services were no longer available, she’d downloaded the map of the state.

  “Okay, we’re on the Three Ninety Five, heading north. We’re leaving Adelanto, which is northwest of Victorville. We just passed the Eighteen highway.”