Serrano looked down at the man, his face set hard. “There was nothing you could do.”
The man nodded, looking at the ground in front of him. “I stopped the bus hard, making all of them fall down. I tried to get the people who hadn’t been attacked yet get off the bus, but it was just...too crazy. Hair was flying, blood was everywhere, clothes were bein’ ripped. So much screaming…
“I saw another one rushing towards, running like I was a mile away, not thirty feet. I was sure I was dead…
“Then he tripped on someone’s leg. He fell on tha’ floor, then looked back at the leg and started grabbing it and pulling it. Then he leaned forward and took a big ol’ bite outta it.
“I didn’t wait. I got out tha’ bus.”
Pausing, he gestured at all the wrecked cars and dead bodies on the freeway around them. “It was crazy out here, too. People was being pulled out cars an’ killed.”
He shook his head. “Then I decided to hide in the luggage compartment. Figured they couldn’t get in there.”
The bus driver looked away, embarrassed. “Didn’t know there wasn’t a safety latch. I couldn’t get out.” He looked back at Jennifer, his brown eyes moist with tears. “That was Sunday.”
Jennifer’s mouth fell open in shock. “Sunday? Are you sure?”
“Yes, definitely. We jus’ started a five night trip to Las Vegas. Always leave on Sunday. Hotels cheaper Sunday through Thursday.” He sipped the water again, then looked at Jennifer and Serran suspiciously, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “Wait, what day is it?”
Serrano looked at the man, his eyes unwavering. “Today’s Wednesday.”
The man considered this for a moment, then shook his head repeatedly. “Nah. No way. Ya’ll trippin’. Couldn’t a been three days. I mean, I was tired from the heat and lack of ventilation, so I know I slept a lot…” He looked away, remembering the ordeal. “I’d wake up and listen, but I kept hearing the infected outside, attacking people. Sometimes they were right outside the compartment I was in, so I had to stay quiet. Then I’d fall asleep again. Still, though, ain’t no way I’s in there three damn days.”
Serrano came over and slowly squatted down next to him. Reaching over, he pulled back his sleeve and showed the man his watch. “See, Wednesday. Unless you think I have some reason to change it.”
The man’s eyes widened in realization of what he was considering. He looked down and spotted his own watch on his wrist. Bringing it up so he could see it, he stared at it for a long second, then dropped his hand back down.
“Holy shit…”
Serrano reached out and clasped the man’s shoulder. “Hey.” The man didn’t respond. “Hey!” When the man finally blinked and looked over at him, Serrano said, “You’re here now. You’re alive. That’s what matters.”
The man nodded, looking back down. “Damien.”
“What’s that?”
“Name’s Damien. Damien Wilkerson.”
“Nice to meet you, Damien. I’m Gabriel Serrano. You can call me Chili or Chief. This nice young lady is Jennifer. That’s her brother Phillip. Over there’s Aaron, and there’s also a man with us named Richard who’s Jennifer and Phillip’s grandfather.”
Looking around in bewilderment, Damien Wilkerson said, simply, “Nice to meet you.”
“Same, Damian. Sit tight, we’ll get you some food.”
Leaving Jennifer with the man, Serrano and the others looked into their available food and picked out a handful of items. It wasn’t much, but they had a long journey ahead of them, and there was no telling when or even if they’d have chances to restock.
Returning to him, Serrano extended an open packet of beef jerky.
The man’s eyes widened at the sight of it, but not for the reason Serrano would have assumed. He pointed towards the first luggage compartment. “Food.”
Reaching down, Serrano opened the compartment. Inside he found a big cardboard box, which he retrieved and set on the ground. Opening it, he paused in stunned silence.
The box was stuffed full of chips, cookies, nuts, granola bars, and beef jerky.
“Customers get hungry,” Damien offered, smiling broadly.
Serrano nodded, smiling as well. “Nice. What would you like, Damien?”
“Cookies, please. Blood sugar’s low.”
Serrano passed the man two packages of cookies, then grabbed himself a granola bar. He dragged the box over to the others, then sat down in the shade next to Damien. Looking at Phillip, he said, “Hey, Phil, how ‘bout you give your grandfather a break and let him come get a snack. I need you and Aaron to keep watch for a bit, then I’ll relieve you.”
Phillip was nodding along in agreement. “Sounds good.”
Once everyone had a chance to snack and Damien was sufficiently hydrated enough to regain his footing, the group gathered together by the truck. Now standing, the heavy black man looked even bigger than they’d thought he was. His stomach stuck out past his pants, hanging over his belt, and his arms remained perpetually as his side, kept there by the layers of fat on his body. His neck was huge, barely giving way to the hint of a chin before merging with the jowls on his face. He waddled side to side as he moved, struggling to keep his massive body in motion.
Looking at them, Damien grinned. “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Damn, that’s one fat ass dude!’”
The five of them stared at him in shock, unsure of how to respond. He laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I know I’m fat. Always been fat, ever since I was a little boy growin’ up in Louisiana.” Looking around at the evidence of death and destruction around them he nodded. “I’m guessin’ this is the perfect time to go on a diet, know what I’m saying?”
The group chuckled awkwardly in response, not sure how else to respond.
He looked off into the distance, then nodded once. Looking at the group, he smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll be gettin’ on. Thank you all so much for saving my life. I owe you everything.” With that, he nodded again and started slowly walking in his waddling fashion in the direction they’d come from, back towards the city.
Reaching out, Serrano grabbed the big man’s arm.
“Hold on. Where are you going?”
Damien shrugged. “Home, I guess.” He looked towards the skyline, which was barely visible through the thick layers of smoke. “Assuming it’s still there.”
Serrano looked at the others briefly, then made the call. “Negative.”
Damien’s head turned sharply. He looked at the Navy SEAL in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
Serrano extended his hand.
“You’re coming with us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Oceanside, California
“Shit!” Sarah, yelled, pounding the steering wheel with her right hand as she let the car coast to a stop. “Shitshitshitshitshit!”
From the back seat, a soft voice chided her. “Mommy, that’s a bad word…”
“I’m sorry, Olivia, you’re right, sweetie.” Sarah Ferguson dropped her head, resting it on the steering wheel. Just when she thought they were in the clear.
Following the incident at the school, Sarah, Jason, and Olivia spent the next three and a half days holed up in the condo, hiding from the world while hoping things would turn around. By the end of the second day, Sarah finally accepted that John wasn’t coming home. There was no cure, at least not for him.
It was too late.
He was gone.
How would she tell the girls?
She made sure the kids stayed occupied, partly because it delayed the inevitable discussion about John and partly because it allowed her to monitor what was going on outside the safety of their condominium. She kept them on a steady diet of Disney movies and board games, and even gave them an additional hour each day to use their tablet computers, which they used to play various video games that she’d pre-approved.
On the TV in her and John’s bedroom, Sarah alternated between watching t
he local news and national news, hoping to see something, anything that would give her hope that they’d be saved. If they had to wait, they’d wait. As long as they could stay in their home, with the hope that at some point, things would return to normal.
As the days went by, Sarah began to realize that the decrease in the number of sirens she heard didn’t mean the number of emergencies was decreasing. It meant the number of people available to respond was decreasing.
Eventually, the sirens stopped, leaving only the sounds of people screaming, cars crashing, glass breaking, and fires burning. Some of the screams were those of victims. Some were the inhuman ones of the infected. Fortunately, none were close.
The local news stopped broadcasting during the morning of the third day. The sole remaining news anchor, a young man in his late twenties named Ryan Edwards who’d been looking worse and worse during the multi-hour broadcast, simply got up and walked off the set.
He never returned.
After thirty minutes, the picture of the empty set was replaced by a static graphic that said, ‘Please Stand By.’
After another thirty minutes, Sarah gave up on the channel and went back to the national news, where the CNN anchors had been changing regularly as one by one they succumbed to the virus. With a larger pool of anchors, they made it until sometime after midnight. Sarah, having put the children to bed hours before, had dozed off in bed, only to awake to the sound of static coming from their 50 inch smart TV. No ‘Please Stand By’ message, no ‘Currently Experiencing Technical Difficulties’ message.
Just static.
A sudden feeling of abandonment came over her as she rubbed her eyes and reached for the remote.
Flipping through the channels, she checked each of the major news networks, looking for the presence of something that would tell her the country hadn’t actually collapsed. There had to be someone there. Having handfuls of people out sick was scary, realizing it was so bad that major news networks were unable to operate?
Terrifying.
When none of the major networks showed broadcasting on their channels, she kept pushing the button on the remote, irrationally thinking that perhaps the channel she thought correlated to the news network was different than the actual one. When she reached channel 87, the screen showed the set for a Chicago local news station. A middle-aged black man sat alone on the set, looking at the camera solemnly.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.
Her relief would be short-lived.
Looking at the camera, the man’s hands were visibly shaking as he held the piece of paper he read from.
“Well, folks, I’m all that’s left. Sharon, Mike, Susie, Brandon, Ally, and Spencer are out sick. They went home at some point over the last few days and haven’t come back. Our media crew is down to Terry, who’s currently locked in the bathroom.”
He stared hard into the camera as he went on.
“I locked him in there. He was beginning to turn, and I had to lock him in there to keep him from hurting others.”
The man reached down and rolled back his sleeve, exposing long, bloody scratches on his dark skin.
“But he got me.”
He looked down at the desk in front of him, not saying a word for nearly a minute. Finally, he reached over and a notepad of yellow lined paper and slid it in front of him. He took a deep breath, then looked back at the camera. When he spoke, his voice wavered.
“I won’t be coming home, Mikki. I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t risk it. I would never hurt you. I’m just sorry I can’t be there to protect you.
I love you with all my heart and soul, baby. I still remember how the first time we danced, it was to Babyface’s ‘Two Occasions.’ You wore that pink dress with the black tights underneath, and I was wearing my acid-washed jeans and my black Members Only jacket.”
As the man paused, Sarah found herself tearing up at the man’s descriptions. After a few seconds, he went on.
“You’ve made my life better in every way, Mikki, and I can’t imagine living without you. I want to be with you more than anything, but I know I can’t.
“Not anymore.”
Locking eyes with the camera again, he continued.
“I love you, Mikki. Please promise me you’ll always remember that.”
He stared at the desk in front of him again, then reached up and wiped his eyes. He kept his hand there, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a few deep breaths. After he did, he nodded, then reached under his desk.
“Please look away now, Mikki. I don’t want you to see this.”
The realization of what he intended to do hit Sarah a half-second before the man pulled a gun out from under the desk, stuck the end of it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Sarah was unable to look away in time. The explosion of blood on the screen would haunt her dreams for days.
Had John done the same?
Tears burst forth from her eyes as she looked away, grabbing the remote and pointing it blindly at the television as she pressed the power button.
In the silent darkness that fell over the room, she lay on her side and wept, clutching John’s pillow to her chest, inhaling his scent as she mourned her loss.
Little sleep came after that, no matter how hard she tried. Laying in bed, she thought through all of her options. They were relatively safe in the condo, but for how long? They had food in the refrigerator, but that would run out in the next day or two, maybe three if she stretched it. Sooner or later, she’d have to go out to find more. Is that something she was capable of doing by herself? What about the children? Would she leave them there, alone in the condo? Would she take them with her? What if she left them behind and she didn’t make it back?
Should they leave the city? If they did, where would they go? They could head east, but driving through the likes of Vista, San Marcos, and Escondido seemed counterproductive.
Head north? Towards L.A.?
Holy crap.
What about North, then East, towards the mountains? They could skirt the city limits of Los Angeles and head towards the less populated areas to the east.
‘Dumbass,’ she thought, chiding herself.
‘Camp Pendleton.’
The massive Marine Corps base was only three and a half miles away. Surely the military base would provide safety, secure from the madness of the outside world.
Rising from the bed, she glanced at the clock. It was 4:21 a.m. She made it a goal to be out of the condo by seven a.m. From there, no matter what the traffic and road conditions were, they’d be on the base by eight.
Grabbing a backpack, she stuffed several changes of clothes inside, then moved to the closet, where they kept their suitcases. Pulling a small one from inside one of the larger ones, she opened it and set it on her bed. She snuck into the kids’ room and opened their dresser. She pulled out five full changes of clothes for each of them, then all the underwear and socks they had. She had no idea how long they’d be on the base, but having what she’d chosen would provide enough changes for each of them to last a long time.
She went to her bathroom and cleaned up, washing her face, brushing her hair and teeth, and applying lotion to her face. She grabbed the toiletries she thought she’d need then stuffed those in the suitcase as well.
Two hours after getting out of bed, she got the children out of bed, ignoring their protests, had each of them clean up, then packed their toiletries while they ate the pancakes she’d made.
By now the pile of things they’d be taking with them had grown and included a duffle bag filled with their favorite stuffed animals and blankets, as well as a few games and their tablets. On a whim, she set a pack of bottled water next to the pile, thinking that no matter what the situation was on the base, having extra water was never a bad thing. Following that up, she packed an unopened 24-pack of chips, knowing that when Jason wanted Doritos, he WANTED Doritos, and nothing else would do.
By 6:45, the children were dressed and standing by the front door with the shoes
on. Sarah checked outside to make sure there was no one in the immediate area before opening the door, then had the kids wait inside while she loaded everything into the back of the SUV.
Outside she was struck by the strange lack of normal buzz that represented everyday urban life. The stillness seemed alien, as if she were the one out of place, existing in a world she no longer recognized.
In less than ten minutes, she had both their meager supplies and the children loaded into the vehicle. Soon they were on their way, weaving through the random assortment of vehicles that had been left on the road.
When they reached Camp Pendleton, she realized her plan had been both shortsighted and foolhardy.
Arriving at the gate, she was greeted by large, metal barricades, barring her entry. There were no guards present, no one to plead her case to, no one to reason with. Stunned by the complete dismissal, Sarah sat there, staring at the main entrance to the base as the engine of the SUV idled in the early morning Southern California sunlight. Aside from the three-foot tall barricades, spikes stood up from the road, threatening to shred tires before the driver’s vehicle got through the entrance.
Not that it would make a difference, though. A large, thick-metal grating draped downward from the top of the overhead structure, barring entry to the base, even to those trying to gain access by foot.
It was a dead end.
Unable to process the undeniable failure of her plan, Sarah leaned forward and rested her head on the steering wheel of the vehicle, breathing deeply as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.
“Mommy?”
It was Jason.
“Yes, honey?” she responded, still resting her head on the steering wheel.
“What are we doing?”
Realizing the boy was right, that they needed to keep moving to avoid becoming a target, Sarah responded, “Just taking a quick break.” She couldn’t let the children know that her plan had quickly turned out to be poorly conceived at best.
Surviving Rage | Book 3 Page 15
