Surviving Rage | Book 3

by Arellano, J. D.

  Turning the corner, she realized she’d been breathing in rapid, shallow breaths since reaching the school. Slowly and softly, she drew in breaths, keeping the noise from her breathing to a minimum. As much as she wanted to pull over and rest her head in her hands while she allowed her mind to process everything she’d seen and experienced at the school, she forced herself to keep going. She needed to get her children home.

  To safety.

  The drive home was a blur as she sped down the small residential streets that led to the condo she and John owned. Hearing sirens coming from all directions, she wondered if there were simply too many incidents for the first responders to handle. She would later realize that was exactly the case.

  Arriving at their condo complex, she drove through the parking lot rapidly, swerving wildly to avoid speed bumps. As she neared their assigned parking spot, she slowed her vehicle, turning her head from left to right as she checked to make sure the way to their condo was clear. The lot was devoid of people, something she was thankful for after what she’d been through at the school.

  Once she parked, she jumped out, opened the rear driver’s side door, and quickly got Jason out of his seatbelt. Holding the boy’s hand, she led him to the other side of the car instead of letting him go ahead the way she usually did. She retrieved Olivia from the back seat, picking the girl up and resting her weight on her hip, then led her son to the stairs and up into their condo.

  Inside, she locked the door and deadbolt before leaving the children in the living room and heading to the bedroom she shared with her husband. Calmly and quietly, she closed the door to the room behind her, then fell face first on the bed, where she alternated between crying and screaming into a pillow. Her emotions flowed through her, spinning and churning like a flock of Starlings dancing in the sky.

  She was devastated at the loss of her husband.

  She was rattled from the experience at the school.

  She was terrified of everything outside the door to their condominium.

  When her eyes were dry and her pillow was moist, she slowly rose from the bed and made her way to the master bathroom, where she washed her face, refusing to look at John’s toothbrush, razor, or shaving cream that he kept on the counter. There would be more time to grieve later.

  Right now she had to be a Mom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Van Nuys, California

  Firing his gun in short, measured bursts, Serrano moved to the left, working around the edge of the stalled tour bus that blocked the better part of three Northbound lanes of the I-5 Freeway. He moved with quick, precise movements, seeming to glide forward as he squeezed the trigger on his MP-4. Bodies of the infected shook as the bullets impacted their bodies, knocking them sideways or backwards.

  Eventually, they all fell under the barrage of gunfire he unleashed.

  Behind him, Phillip and Aaron followed, watching his blindspots, providing a second ‘tap’ on any infected that hadn’t been killed by Serrano’s initial shots.

  While they cleared the area around the bus, Richard Singletary and his granddaughter Jennifer kept watch on the freeway behind where they’d been forced to stop, ensuring no one would sneak up on them. Resting his high-powered sniper rifle on the top edge of the truck’s gate, Richard softly chewed a piece of gum as he peered through the scope, scanning slowly as he looked for threats in the distance. Occasionally his mouth would stop chewing and he would bite down on the gum, setting his jaw. Within seconds, the rifle would bark, sending a bullet towards a target somewhere behind them.

  A second shot was never required.

  Serrano stepped between the dead bodies on the road as he moved towards the open door to the bus. With a wrecked SUV, sitting partially atop a small car, blocking the shoulder and fourth lane of the freeway, the bus needed to be moved, and with any luck, he’d be able to start the vehicle and maneuver it to the side of the road.

  A window on the bus exploded outward as a body flew outward and down towards Serrano. As attacks go, it was poorly planned. Serrano slid to his right in the blink of an eye, moving out from under the falling man. The man, dressed in a torn and bloodied business suit, landed heavily on the ground, slamming his face into the concrete of the roadway. A bullet to the back of the head ensured the man didn’t get back up.

  Moving to the door, Serrano sidestepped in an effort to gain a line of sight into the bus. The tinted windows rendered the inside of the bus dim in the morning sun, leaving numerous shadows within the dozens of rows of seats.

  “Fuck this,” he said, stepping away. He told the other two to remain where they were while he moved to the other side of the bus, which mostly faced south. Aiming his gun, he shot out every other window, shattering four of the eight large glass surfaces, flooding the interior of the people mover with light.

  Returning to the door, he peered inside again before stepping onto the bottom step and peering under the rows of seats, looking for the presence of people. There were several dark shapes in the seating area, three on the right side, four on the left. Lifting his balaclava up over his mouth and nose, he slowly climbed the steps sideways, keeping his gun trained towards the rows of seats as he did, watching for movement.

  He paused at the top of the steps, listening. Other than the sound of the wind coming through the windows, the interior of the bus was silent. Another crack of Richard’s rifle indicated he’d put down another threat.

  ‘Damn, it’s good to have that man watching our backs,’ Serrano thought, stepping forward. He moved slowly, swinging his rifle from side to side as he cleared each seat area. Halfway down the row, he saw the first dead body on the left side of the bus: an old black woman whose light colored blouse was stained with the blood that spilled from a gaping hole in her neck. The woman lay slumped in her seat, her head against the window frame, her arms holding a large black purse. Serrano watched the woman closely for nearly a minute before moving on.

  Two rows behind her, a pair of bodies were tangled together, each one’s arms wrapped around the other person. Apparently they’d been sitting side by side before the infection took over. They’d died there on the seats of the bus, their eyes gazing into nowhere as they succumbed from the multiple wounds each one had inflicted on the other.

  Serrano waited, then continued on.

  By the time he reached the back of the bus, he’d found ten dead people in all. Six of the ten had become infected before dying at the hands of another infected. The other four had become victims of the infected, unable to defend themselves against the savagery that found them.

  With the bus cleared of threats, he returned to the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. Looking down, he saw the keys were still in the ignition.

  ‘No way this will still start,’ he thought, reaching for the key.

  The starter turned slowly, working with the speed of molasses as it struggled to put the engine in motion. Whirring and groaning came from the engine compartment as the motor worked desperately, trying to answer the order received. The fact that it turned over at all was a surprise to Serrano, but if it didn’t start the engine, he had no idea how they’d move the massive behemoth of a vehicle. With the two other wrecked vehicles directly in front of the bus, they couldn’t bring the truck into position to jump start the bus. Aside from that, he wasn’t sure they even had jumper cables.

  ‘Come on, you bastard…’

  The engine sputtered once, twice, then kicked into motion, churning as it expelled a massive black cloud from its exhaust.

  “Yes!” Carefully putting the vehicle into first gear, he disengaged the parking brake and gave the engine a bit of gas as he slowly released the clutch. His experience with driving large engine vehicles with manual transmissions was limited to Humvees, and even that had been over ten years ago. Even so, a stick shift was a stick shift. Give a little gas, release the clutch slowly. Ease it into motion. He didn’t need to go far.

  With a lurch, the tour bus moved forward, rocking s
ide to side slightly as it did so. Serrano pulled the wheel to the right, forcing the big vehicle in that direction, towards the side of the road. There was an abandoned Mini Cooper sitting in the slow lane, but it would be a non-issue for the fifteen ton vehicle. Increasing the pressure on the gas pedal, Serrano pointed the front end of the massive vehicle towards the back end of the small car. The bus collided with the left rear bumper of the Mini Cooper, forcing it inwards while causing the car to slowly spin sideways, its tires sliding across the pavement as the bus forged ahead. The Mini Cooper passed by under the windshield as Serrano focused on getting to the side of the road. As he reached the shoulder, he heard a tapping sound coming from somewhere under the bus.

  ‘Good thing I’m already done,’ he thought, stopping the vehicle and engaging the parking brake. Turning off the ignition, he leaned back in the driver’s seat for a second, looking off to his left to where Phillip and Aaron stood. The two alternated between watching him and keeping watch. When Aaron saw him looking at them, he raised his hand and gave Serrano a thumbs up.

  Serrano nodded, then stood from the seat and grabbed his rifle from the dash of the vehicle.

  The tapping sound came from under the bus again.

  ‘The fuck?’

  Stepping onto the first step, he paused and listened again.

  Nothing.

  Shaking his head, he descended the remaining steps and was stepping from the last one to the ground when he heard it once more.

  Tap tap tap

  Phillip and Aaron came over, motioning for Richard and Jennifer to bring the truck.

  “Nice job, Chief.”

  Serrano ignored the young black man, looking back towards the side of the bus quizzically.

  “What is it, Chili?” Phillip asked, his gaze following the other man’s.

  Serrano held up a finger, indicating silence was required. Nodding, Phillip turned and motioned for his sister and grandfather to remain where they were.

  Tap tap tap

  It was coming from one of the luggage compartments on the lower side of the tour bus. Stepping closer, Serrano kept his rifle up as he approached the aluminum sided metal compartment. Reaching forward, he kicked the compartment door with his boot.

  Almost immediately, the tapping sound returned.

  “Shit,” Aaron said from behind him.

  Stepping back, Serrano kept his eyes on the compartment as he spoke to the young Marine. “You want to open or provide cover?”

  Looking down at his rifle, then over at Serrano, Aaron had to admit the SEAL would probably be more capable of not only neutralizing a threat but also ensuring the other person didn’t get hit with any stray bullets. The way the SEAL moved, the manner in which he fired his weapon with controlled precision was not only awe-inspiring, but trust-inspiring as well.

  “I’ll open the compartment.”

  “The compartment door looks like it comes out a bit, then slides upward. Unlatch it and keep it in place, then give me a count of three before pulling it out and throwing it up. Move to the left - the left - and away quickly.”

  “Got it.”

  Aaron Dennard approached the compartment slowly, jumping a bit when the tapping sound came again from the inner wall of the space. Stopping in front of it, he looped his left arm inside the strap for his rifle and pushed it back behind him. Grabbing the latch, he unclasped it, then grabbed the handle with both hands before looking back at Serrano.

  Maintaining eye contact, he mouthed, “One...Two ...Three!”

  Using the strength in his arms and back, he pulled the compartment door outward and slung it upward as he moved his body to the left quickly, reaching for his rifle as he pivoted to face back towards the open compartment.

  The heavy body of a fat black man in light blue shirt and dark blue pants fell out of the compartment, slumping to the ground, his face scraping against the pavement.

  “Oh shit…” Aaron said softly, looking down at the man. The smell of sweat, body odor, and urine emanated from the man, making Aaron blink repeatedly as he stared down at the figure on the ground.

  The man’s voice was weak as a soft croaking sound coming from the back of his throat.

  “Uhhh….”

  Stepping to the man, Serrano head moved from left to right as he scanned the back of the man’s body for injuries. Seeing none, he brought his boot forward and nudged the man.

  “Turn over,” he growled, keeping his rifle trained on the man’s large figure.

  “Uhhh…”

  “Hurry up before I put a bullet in your fucking head,” Serrano repeated, nudging the man again.

  Still facedown on the hard surface of the road, the man’s hand came up weakly, then fell, smacking the pavement.

  “Dammit.”

  Jennifer’s dark-clothed form rushed past him, descending to her knees next to the man.

  “What the? Get back!” Serrano barked.

  Placing a hand on his back, she leaned down to look at the man’s face. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.

  “Jennifer!” Phillip yelled, coming up behind and grabbing her arm.

  She yanked it away, “Hold on.”

  Bringing her hand down, she gently patted the dark, stubbled skin of the man’s face. His eyes fluttered briefly in response, then slowly opened halfway. She leaned in closer, gazing at the man’s pupils.

  “Jennifer…”

  “Help me turn him over.”

  Her brother paused before reaching down to put his hands under the man, one under his waist, the other under his thigh. Looking at his sister, who clearly had the heavier part - the man’s upper body - he nudged her, then switched places with her. Together, the two of them gently turned the heavy man over, moving him into a position where he was resting on his back, facing the sky.

  It was immediately clear he’d escaped attack. His shirt and pants were still whole, without rips or tears, and showed no stains other than those created by his sweat. The man’s lips were chapped and bleeding, his skin dry and hot, indicating severe dehydration.

  “Water!” Jennifer shouted, extending her hand. Phillip ran to the truck and grabbed a bottle, returning seconds later. She gently brought it to his lips, giving the man the tiniest sip. Looking up at Serrano, she said.

  “We need to move him to the shade.”

  Serrano looked at the man, shaking his head. He guessed the man weighed at least three hundred and fifty pounds, maybe even three sixty. Shrugging, he said, “We can drag him.”

  Jennifer considered this for a minute, then reached out and touched the man’s forehead. It was hot and dry. Nodding, she said, “Okay. Gently, though.”

  Serrano looked at Aaron. Pointing towards the road, he told him to keep watch. As the man walked towards the center of the road, Serrano nodded at Phillip and slid his arms under one of the man’s armpits while the young man did the same on the other side of the man. Together, they slowly dragged the man around in a circle until they had him up against the bus. Anticipating her request, they leaned the man against the side of the bus, putting him in a half-sitting motion.

  Jennifer came back over and brought the bottle of water to the man’s lips again. Barely coherent, the man opened his mouth reflexively, allowing her to pour a small amount of liquid onto his tongue. The man swallowed, then opened his mouth again. She repeated the motion, giving him another small amount. The man’s mouth opened yet again, but she waited, not wanting to overdo it.

  “Can you check the bus for more water and a clean cloth, like a shirt or something? I want to wet it and place it on his head.”

  “Okay.” Serrano turned away and climbed back into the bus. He found several half-filled bottles of water, but disregarded them immediately out of concern for infection. His gloved hands searched through numerous bags, tossing aside unwanted items until he found water. Making his way to the window the infected man had dove through, he passed the bottle down to Phillip before returning to continue his search. He found three more unopen
ed bottles before suspending his search. Looking around, he decided to forgo the search for clean rags inside the bus.

  Stepping down off the bus, he turned to the first storage compartment and opened it. Pulling out a suitcase, he quickly opened and pulled out a clean t-shirt that said “Disneyland - The Happiest Place On Earth.” Grimacing at the slogan’s current applicability, he passed it to the young woman.

  Jennifer wet the t-shirt using the water Serrano gave her and draped it over the man’s head as she continued giving him small sips of water. After a while, the man began to respond to what was happening. Shortly after, he spoke.

  “Where am I?”

  Jennifer spoke to the man softly, holding the bottle of water in front of him. “You’re still on the freeway. We pulled you out of the luggage compartment.”

  The man’s head lulled weakly as he considered her statement. “Things went crazy…”

  “It’s alright, we’re here now. We’ll protect you.”

  “They started attacking each other on the bus. Before I could do anything, they were all fighting. I saw a man rip an old woman’s throat apart.”

  Jennifer and the others waited, listening to the man. It was clear he needed to share his story. He reached for the bottle.

  Jennifer handed it to him, cautioning, “Small sips, or you’ll throw it all up.”

  “Okay,” the man said, taking the bottle and drinking as directed. “I saw one coming towards me, so I swerved the bus, making the thing fall over. He…” The man looked away, bringing a hand to his face as the memories returned. “He attacked a young couple. He hit ‘em, an’ kicked ‘em, and bit ‘em. I couldn’t do nothin’.”