Few were left.
Phillip frowned as he turned away from the view and looked towards the large passenger van they’d taken. It was nearly midday, and their way forward was essentially blocked.
Driving north on the 5 would take them through the heart of the fires, a suicide mission no one had signed up for.
They would have to head east or west before heading north, towards San Francisco.
Holding the spare t-shirt against his nose and mouth, he strode towards the van, shaking his head. He had no words to convey his frustration. Their destination was clear, and after the encounter with the gang on the freeway, he was confident that they could deal with any challenge thrown at them. Serrano was a frickin’ superhero, and as long as they backed him up, no one would stand in their way.
But fire cared little about who or what it burned. Superhero status meant nothing to the intensity and determined nature of an element, one determined to turn anything and everything in its path to ash.
“What are we going to do?” Jennifer asked, holding a piece of cloth over her mouth and nose as she called out through the small gap between the window and the door’s frame.
Phillip shrugged, barely able to contain his frustration. “Fuck if I know,” he replied, shaking his head.
Serrano appeared at his side, silently approaching as he always did. “We head west,” he stated as he passed Phillip on his way to the van.
“West? Are you sure?”
Serrano nodded. “Seems like the better route. Close to the ocean, vegetation’s less likely to be so dry. We can drive up the One Oh One.”
“How long will that take?” Phillip asked, exasperated.
Serrano’s eyes met his. “Does it matter?”
They’d been driving two hours on the 126 highway, heading towards the coast when Sarah Ferguson finally protested. The van was cramped. Though it was large, it was filled to capacity with people, every bit of remaining space was filled with supplies or weapons.
Struggling to push a box out from the space under her feet, she blurted out, “Can we take a break?”
Serrano looked surprised as his eyes darted towards the rearview mirror. “What’s that?”
“I said, can we take a break? I’ve been cramped back here for hours, unable to stretch out, trying to find a way to get comfortable with this damn box between my legs, and feeling downright gross!”
“Okay, okay,” Serrano replied as he turned the wheel to the right, angling the vehicle toward a small turnoff on the side of the road. Leaving the pavement, the tires crunched on gravel as he maneuvered the van towards a spot of shade under a large rock outcropping. Slowing the vehicle methodically, he positioned the van mostly in the shade before killing the engine.
“Alright, just hang tight for a minute.” he said, grabbing his shotgun as he exited the vehicle.
Sarah protested. “Do you really have to take that with you?”
“Yes.”
Serrano walked around to the front of the van and waited as Phillip and Aaron got out and joined him, each holding a rifle as well.
“I’ll check out the area ahead,” he said, pointing. “One of you check the area behind us. No need to go too far, maybe fifty yards. I don’t think we’ll encounter much out here. We’re pretty far from any towns and I didn’t see any vehicles broken down in the immediate area.”
“Got it,” Aaron said before walking away from the van, carrying his gun tightly.
Serrano turned and strode away, his eyes scanning the area around him as he moved. In truth, it did feel good to stretch his legs after being cooped up behind the wheel of the minivan (‘a God Damn Minivan!’ he thought) for the better part of the day, save the short time they’d spent staring in awe at the raging inferno that covered the mountains north of Santa Clarita.
Walking with purpose, he verified the area was clear before stopping to look west. Ventura was out there, still over thirty miles away, and he thought they’d be lucky to get there before 5 p.m. While driving was the safest and easiest way to move, it was both slow, tiring, and for some, sickening. The roads were littered with abandoned vehicles, dead bodies, and other items, which made the need to maneuver the vehicle a constant requirement, which had been causing Jennifer, Sarah, and Jason to get motion sickness. In an effort to lessen the effects of driving with all the windows closed, Serrano had been periodically turning on the air conditioning, even though he knew it affected the vehicle’s gas mileage. In the end, it did little to help, and the only thing he could do to lessen the effects of the constant swerving was the one thing he hated to do: slow down.
Turning to walk back towards where the van was stopped, he looked at the van briefly and gave a thumbs up, signalling to Phillip that it was safe for the others to get out of the van. As he saw the two women, the two small kids, and the old Marine get out of the car, followed by the vehicle-rocking mass that was Damien, he pondered how he’d come to be in charge of the group. The Marines, including the retired one, were easy to lead. They didn’t require explanations, didn’t argue, didn’t complain, provided quality input when asked, and carried out their assignments quickly and effectively.
The civilians, on the other hand, required a certain amount of what his former boss, Lieutenant Commander Woods, used to call ‘care and feeding’: he had to consider their comfort (such as the motion sickness issues they’d been struggling with), their inputs (though they had zero tactical experience), and worst of all, their feelings.
Of all of them, the woman they’d rescued had been the worst. While he understood that she’d been through a lot, including the loss of her husband (which she really didn’t say much about), she was clearly having a hard time not being in charge and not having her input considered or even requested. Serrano hoped in time she’d realize that he knew what he was doing, and following his lead would get them to their destination safely.
He hoped.
Having a long, heartfelt discussion with the woman about the subject was only slightly preferable to being bitten by one of the infected.
As he approached the van, he saw Sarah standing with her arms crossed near the passenger side front door while Phillip reached inside the vehicle. When he pulled his arm back, the map was in his hand.
“What’s going on?” Serrano asked as he watched him pass it to Sarah.
Phillip shrugged. “She wants to look at the map,” he said before turning and quickly walking away, leaving Serrano alone with the woman.
Sarah spread the map out on the short, steep hood of the van and began tracing its surface with her finger until she found Castaic Junction. From there, she moved her finger along the 126 highway.
“So you said we’re headed to Ventura, right?” She asked, staring at the map.
Irritated at the thought of someone questioning his plan, Serrano paused momentarily in an effort to keep his voice even before responding. “Yes.”
“And what are you thinking after that?”
“The one oh one all the way.”
Sarah leaned closer, looking at the map. “The one oh one? Why wouldn’t we take the thirty three to the one nineteen, back over to the five?”
Stunned, Serrano stepped back. During his time as a SEAL, he’d been questioned a number of times, but only by his fellow SEALs, including LCDR Woods. To have a civilian question his plan was nothing less than offensive.
“What?”
Sarah glanced at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. She stood back and pointed at the map. “The one oh one is a smaller highway, which could get blocked easily. If we can get back to the five, we’ll have more room to maneuver.”
Serrano contemplated simply telling her that he was running the show, that he was the leader and if she didn’t like it, so could leave, but he reminded himself that civilians didn’t understand a military chain of command. Instead, he nodded towards where her finger was resting on the map.
“See all that green? That’s forest. Based on what we just saw, there’s a good
chance it will be burning, too. The one oh one keeps us away from the forest. We stay near the coast, it won’t be so dry.”
The woman stared at the map, her mouth slightly open as she considered what he’d said. He was right, and she knew it.
Serrano continued, piling on so he could drive home his point. Maybe he could kill this idea that there was more than one person running the show. “We spend time working our way here,” he touched the map northeast of Ventura, where Highway 33 entered a massive green area, “and find it to be on fire, we’ll have to backtrack, which will just waste more time and more fuel. I’m not a fan of either. People are going stir crazy in the van, and every time we have to stop for fuel it’s a risk. We see cars, we’ll probably see people, and as we know, people are our biggest threat right now.”
Sarah put her hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay.” She turned away suddenly and stormed off, keeping her head down.
‘Too much, man,’ he thought, watching as she walked away. He shook his head. ‘Great job, Gabriel. Picking on a woman who recently lost her husband.’ He vowed to try even harder to be tactful.
Serrano joined the rest of the group near the back of the van, where they’d opened the doors to access some of the food and water they had with them. There wasn’t much, and with several days of driving ahead of them, they’d need to restock soon. He looked at his watch, then at the sun’s position in the sky. If they could get to Ventura before dark, they could search for supplies that day. If not, they’d have to focus on finding somewhere to hunker down for the night, then find supplies in the morning. Looking over at Sarah, he made a mental note to ask for her opinion before they began their search. He wouldn’t commit to her plan just yet, but he figured that if he at least offered to hear her out, maybe she’d feel a little bit better about her position in the group.
“Let’s load up. I wanna get to Ventura before sundown.” He said, draining the last of his water and throwing the bottle in back into the box he’d taken it from. Aside from adhering to his long held belief that people should respect the planet, he also didn’t want to leave a trail for anyone to follow.
With the exception of the Marines, the group groaned in response, not looking forward to being stuffed back into the van again.
The kids were the loudest protesters, with the young girl crying as Sarah tried to corral her.
“Hey,” Damien said, smiling broadly at the little girl. “If you listen to your mom, I’ll tell you stories as we drive.”
Olivia paused and looked at the man. “Really?”
“Sure,” he replied, continuing to smile.
“What stories?” She asked, looking at the man skeptically.
“I know a bunch.” He nodded, his cheeks jiggling slightly as he did. “Mostly the classics, like Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, you know, that stuff.”
“Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Yup. And I’ll tell you the whole story, as long as you listen to your mom.”
The girl bounced slightly, her mood changing in an instant. “Okay!”
Next to her, the boy signed heavily. “Great, little kid stories.”
Damien, moving side to side as he made his way towards the van, looked over at the boy. “What kind of stuff do you like, Jason?”
Jason responded instantly. “Superheroes. Iron Man, Captain America, Spider Man.”
Damien smiled again. “Really….well, I just happen to be an expert on comic books. I’ve been to Comic Con the last twelve years in a row.”
“What?!!” The boy responded in shock. “Twelve years? I’ve never been able to go even once!”
Damien nodded, reaching up and grabbing the roof of the van to help pull himself up into the van. “Tell you what,” he said over his shoulder. “Let me tell your sister some stories, and then I’ll tell you all about the origins of each of your favorite characters.”
“What about Thor, Black Panther, and Quicksilver?”
“Sure. Even some of the ones you’ve only kind of heard of, like Moon Knight, Adam Warlock, or the Silver Surfer.”
“No way!”
Damien laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that made his jowls quiver and shake. “Yes way, little man, just be good and listen to your mom.”
“Okay!” The boy followed his mother and sister into the van and strapped himself in.
The rest of the group got into the van, with Serrano behind the wheel again and Aaron in the passenger seat. Phillip, Jennifer, and Richard filled out the next row of seats, with Jennifer handling the map when needed. Behind them, Damien occupied the majority of the next row, and in the rear, Sarah sat in the middle of the row, with her kids flanking her on either side. Serrano preferred not to have Sarah and the kids in the back row, but Damien simply couldn’t get to the back row, no matter how hard he tried, and he needed his navigator close by in case he had questions. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.
As for Sarah, she hadn’t made eye contact or even looked in his direction since their disagreement over the route they’d take. She’d talked openly and comfortably with everyone else, even laughing slightly once or twice in response to quips they’d made, but when it came to Serrano, she simply ignored him.
For some strange reason, it bothered him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Near Tehachapi, California
“Ten four, good buddy,” Daniel said, sliding the cb mic back into the holder.
Serafina rolled her eyes before turning her head to look out the window. “Dork.”
Smiling, Daniel guided the Prius around a wrecked truck in the right lane of the highway, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror to verify Logan and Paul were following.
Logan and Paul had made pretty quick work of installing the cb radios in the two vehicles, though the installations were far from clean: they turned the radios sideways and secured them to the sidewall of the center console on the passenger’s side, screwing the fasteners directly into the plastic molding after they’d run the wires through a four inch hole they’d cut in the same panel. The massive cb antenna whipped back and forth wildly in the wind, its large base secured in a spot next to the car’s radio antenna by screws forcibly driven into the metal of the car’s frame. In all, it was an ugly job, but the radio worked, and worked well.
As they drove across the Mojave, the heat in the little Prius was intense, but with zero chance of rescue should one of the cars break down, Daniel kept the air conditioning off to reduce the engine’s workload. Instead, they drove with every window down, which allowed the wind into the cabin of the small car, providing at least airflow. Unfortunately, it also brought dust (and sometimes sand) into the car, requiring them to cover their mouths and noses. Sunglasses (which Daniel, Serafina, and Ashley had) were a necessity for those who wanted to look around, while Brenna and Isabella were advised to either keep a spare shirt over their faces or keep their eyes shut.
Sweat ran down Daniel’s face as he drove the Prius along State Route 58 on their way towards Bakersfield, and though the heat made him uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but like the mostly open roads that wound their way through the desert. With few obstacles on the road, they were making better time than he’d thought possible as the dry, barren land passed by on either side of them.
Looking over at his wife, he found her leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed. She was holding a rag over her mouth and nose as she rested. Sweat glided down her temple, then trailed down her jawline as he watched.
‘Even now, in the middle of all this, she’s beautiful,’ Daniel thought, smiling as he turned his eyes back towards the road. Tilting his head slightly, he squinted as he looked at something up ahead in the distance.
“Honey…” he said, as he continued driving closer. Distance was difficult to gauge on the long straightaway, but it appeared that what he was seeing was about three miles away.
“What is it?” She asked, sitting forward as she pulled off her glasses to quickly rub her eyes before donning t
hem again.
Raising one finger from the steering wheel, Daniel pointed. “There’s something going on up there.”
Serafina peered into the distance. “Definitely some kind of commotion.”
“What is it, Auntie?” Ashley asked from the back seat.
“Not sure,” she replied, shaking her head. She was able to make out man-shaped figures in the road ahead, and based on the quickness of their movements, whatever was happening up there was intense. “What’s the plan here?”
Daniel considered her question for a minute as allowed the vehicle to close the distance. When the commotion was about a mile and a half away, Daniel said, “Let’s talk it over.” He slowed and pulled to the right, extending his arm from the vehicle and waving Logan forward.
Serafina pulled the binoculars out of the glove compartment and was looking towards the commotion when Logan and Paul stopped their car alongside theirs.
Daniel pointed ahead. “Something going on up there. Not sure what it is.”
Logan looked into the distance, then lifted his binoculars. “Shit,” he said, gazing into the distance through the glass.
“Looks like two, no, three men are under attack from a bunch of infected.” Serafina stated, still gazing towards the commotion. Sitting back, she passed the binoculars to Daniel. “Take a look.”
Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, he guided the field of vision along the road until he found the source of commotion. Lying on its side in the middle of the two-lane highway was a large orangish-yellow school bus. Nearly a dozen bodies laid in the road around the bus, all of them unmoving. Stopped near the bus was a white Honda Accord, surrounded by a horde of infected. Three men stood atop the car, desperately trying to fight off the infected people surrounding them. As Daniel watched, one of the men was dragged down off the top of the car. Screaming, he fell into the crowd, which converged on him in a frenzy. Arms flew wildly as the infected beat, clawed, and pulled at the man, sending blood, clumps of hair, and chunks of flesh into the air around the melee.
Surviving Rage | Book 3 Page 20
