Now, only one person got to say ‘no.’
‘Spoiler alert,’ he said to himself, smiling deviously as he thought of the attractive blonde woman. ‘It won’t be you.’
Sitting on the side of the adjacent home, he leaned his head back and rested it against the wall of the house. Carefully keeping his excitement in check, he willed himself to relax.
Soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Virginia
“All this waiting is killing me.” Lisa Bowman said, stirring her cup of tea as she tried to read the novel she’d borrowed from the base library.
“I know. Me, too.” Jonathan Reed looked up from his knife and smiled at her before setting the whetting stone aside. He’d spent what seemed like hours sharpening the edge of the blade, wetting the stone slightly before running the edge of the knife along the stone. He felt confident the blade could catch a tomato in the air and glide through it cleanly, cutting it in two without spilling a drop of juice. When he touched its edge with his thumb, it scraped his skin slightly, the keen edge threatening to penetrate the surface of the skin if even the slightest bit of pressure was applied.
Lisa smiled at him before reaching out and taking his hand in her own. “What a crazy way for us to meet.”
Jonathan smiled back at her as their eyes met. Leaning forward, he planted a soft kiss on her lips, then one on each cheek before finishing with one on her forehead. “I’m definitely glad we met, but I do wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances.”
Lisa shook her head. “Probably wouldn’t have worked out the same.”
Jonathan cocked his head to the side. “Why do you say that?”
“‘Cause I thought you were a jerk when we first met.”
He recoiled slightly, his eyes widening. “Seriously?”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah. You seemed so… overly confident, like you thought you were better than everyone else.”
“I don’t.”
“I know that now, but originally… it was a bit overbearing. I wanted nothing to do with you. If we hadn’t been forced to work together, I would have never gotten to know the real you.”
“I see,” Jonathan replied, looking away. After the challenges he’d face growing up, plus those he faced in medical school and during residency, he’d grown defensive. No one thought he’d make it. Not only that, many of those who didn’t were vocal in their skepticism. No way this tall, awkward black kid from the poor part of town could become a doctor.
Not a chance in hell.
Surrounded by all that negativity, he grew a hard exterior that hid the kindness of his heart.
When he succeeded in his lifelong goals, he felt vindicated. He’d achieved what they said he couldn’t. Not only had he made it, but he’d done exceptionally well, graduating at the top of his class, excelling throughout his residency, performing top-notch research that was published and widely respected, and getting hired at the one of the largest hospitals in the country.
It all seemed admirable, but when he tactfully informed his doubters of his success (and yes, he was tactful. His mother wouldn’t tolerate anything else.), instead of being happy for him, they were first indifferent, then later resentful. They lobbied suggestions like diversity preference, skewed grading systems designed to help black people, or worse, that he cheated his way through college, medical school, and the MCATS. It was enough to make a person crazy, and after a while, it made him doubt himself.
Had he been lucky?
Had he been a diversity preference candidate?
As impossible as it was - they all took the same tests, including the MCATs, and he simply scored better than anyone else, from the first test to the last test - he started to believe the doubters, and over time he felt a need to bolster his own pride with self-congratulatory behavior. He held his head a little higher, made sure people knew he was highly intelligent, wore the best clothes, and drove the best cars.
Now, sitting next to the beautiful, intelligent Doctor Bowman, he thought about it retrospectively for the first time.
First, he’d been humbled by working next to both her and their collective hero, Doctor Chang. No matter how smart either of them felt, Andrew’s way of seeing their analysis before they could even explain it, then work through the next series of steps that would either prove or disprove their hypotheses without even taking notes was incredible. He did everything they did on the computer in his mind and in half the time. It was nothing short of awe inspiring.
Then he’d been humbled by the incredible men of SEAL Team Eight, who’d taken on challenges average people would run from. They’d literally stared death in the face and fought it tooth and nail without hesitation. They’d stepped in to help the innocent, saving them from certain death, making quick work of those who’d threatened a family, all the while staying focused on their mission. In the end, each and every one of them had laid down their life to ensure Reed successfully completed his mission, because they knew the world needed what Reed found.
With all that he’d experienced over the last two and a half weeks, he realized his priorities had been wrong.
It wasn’t about him.
It was about the greater good, and what he could do to help.
“What are you thinking?” Lisa asked, looking over at him, her soft, warm eyes finding his. For a moment he paused as he admired the beautiful woman he was lucky enough to have next to him.
After a pause, he nodded. “I was thinking that you were right. I was a jerk.”
The blonde woman shook her head, then looked down as she reached over and rubbed his arm. “You were just misunderstood. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to get to know you better.”
Reed shrugged. “I feel like my eyes were opened by…” he gestured widely with his hand, “all of this.”
Lisa smiled. “At first, you know what I really enjoyed?”
“What’s that?”
She chuckled, looking mischievous. “Watching Andrew shoot down each and every one of your hypotheses.”
He laughed in response, shaking his head. Seeing him laugh, she allowed herself to laugh more.
“It was like I was in Pre-Med all over again, getting schooled by the teacher!” Jonathan said, laughing.
“He never even needs to write things down! It’s ridiculous.”
The two laughed together, leaning into each other. After a few minutes, Bowman asked, “Where is he, anyway?”
Jonathan pointed off into the distance, where she could see a small figure next to a four legged one. “Walking Steight. Now that we’re in a pause until we find someone who’s immune, he’s trying to get some exercise. Steight’s a sweet dog, so of course she likes him.”
“He is a really nice guy.”
“Definitely.”
Across the base, Andrew Chang walked quickly, forcing himself out of his comfort zone as he maintained a pace that tested him. He’d never been into running. When his colleagues suggested he take it up, he leaned on medical evidence that supported the argument that it was tough on one’s joints, intentionally ignoring the fact that it was good for one’s heart, muscles, cardiovascular system, and metabolism.
Steight trotted next to him dutifully, looking up at him occasionally, hoping that he would break into a run. Refusing to do so, he did the next best thing: he let go of the leash and said, “Go on, girl!”
The lean, muscular German Shepherd would sprint ahead, its muscles easily propelling its body in long, effortless leaps as it covered dozens of yards in seconds. When it got some distance away it would slow and turn, pausing to look back at Andrew. A simple ‘kck, kck’ would bring her trotting back to his side, tail wagging happily as she fell into place next to him.
Looking down at the dog, he found her eyes looking up at him longingly. Smiling, he gave her the command she was waiting for, then watched as she bounded away happily.
‘If only we could all find that kind of joyful, carefree happ
iness again,’ he thought, shaking his head. He didn’t need to look towards the base’s tall fences, which protected them from the danger and chaos of the outside world to know what was out there was barely a shell of what they’d known before the outbreak of the Rage virus.
The pragmatist within him told him the world could someday be the same.
Just not any time soon.
CHAPTER THIRTY
San Jose, California
Watching the large two story home burn, Hector “Leon” Guitterez smiled. He and his crew had enjoyed themselves when they were inside, but there was still work to do. They were expanding their territory rapidly, taking more and more of the city as he enlisted additional men and women almost daily. Occasionally, they were met with some resistance, whether from armed civilians who wanted to protect themselves and what was theirs, or from small groupings of law enforcement officials who strove to restore law and order.
Whatever form the resistance came in, it was insufficient. He and his crew were simply an overwhelming force. Each time it was over quickly as his gang used their superior firepower to send waves of bullets towards the opposition. Men, women, and children died in their wake, but it didn’t bother him. They were given the opportunity to surrender. If they didn’t take it, the deaths of the innocent were on them.
That morning he’d made it clear that he wanted to begin expanding into Milpitas. Each new area provided new resources: food, water, medicine, and weapons. As his gang grew, they needed more of everything, and though he couldn’t let them know it, he was starting to worry that maybe he’d bit off more than he could chew. Resources were running low, and people were getting restless. The gang’s muscle was always fed and cared for first as a matter of principle, but those around them - the women, children, and elderly - had to take what was left. Most of the time that wasn’t much, and with hungry, thirsty, and/or sick people around his fighters, stress was high. To make matters worse, he’d started off with an edict that specified if people surrendered, they’d be allowed into his gang’s territory. As his gang became more powerful, more people were surrendering, which meant more mouths to feed.
Simply put, they were growing too fast.
He routinely assured them that things were going as planned, that they just needed to trust him, and they nodded as they listened, seeming to go along with his direction, but he wondered how long it would last.
Soon, someone would want to challenge him.
Who would it be?
He looked around at the tight-knit group of men and women that accompanied him, people who’d been handpicked by him for their fighting skills and for their loyalty.
Julio had been by his side for nearly seven years. Taller and more heavily muscled than Leon, the man was a great shot and a brutal fighter, but he was a born follower. He’d been following Leon since they were teenagers, and if he’d ever had an issue with it, he’d passed up at least a dozen opportunities to kill him.
No, definitely not Leon.
Miguel? The short, lean, muscled man’s narrow face and beady eyes made him seem sneaky, no matter how readily he went along with Leon’s direction.
He’d have to be watched.
Tyrone. One of two black men in his inner circle, the big muscular man was proficient with both handguns and rifles, and when it came to fighting, he was nothing short of devastating. He was also dumb as a box of rocks.
Nothing to worry about there.
Lizette, an attractive Mexican woman with a lean figure and shoulder length dark hair, who’d been kicked out of the Army for being a lesbian, had show a penchant for creating IEDs.
From what he could tell, as long as she was allowed to blow shit up on occasion, she was happy to follow his lead.
He looked at the rest of his crew: Gilberto, Tony, Sam, Clinton, and Oscar. None of them had shown the slightest indication that they had any desire to lead. They followed his orders without question, carrying them out with brutal efficiency.
They were perfect soldiers.
Miguel, on the other hand, had questioned him one time too many.
‘I’m watching you, mothafucka,’ he thought, staring at the man for a moment before looking away.
The house burned rapidly, the heat from it forcing them to take a few steps back as they watched. He wanted to move on, but it was important that it burned to the ground, and even more important that there were no survivors.
Word of what they’d done inside couldn’t be allowed to get out.
When they’d arrived at the Police Chief’s home, they’d found the man and his family holed up inside, accompanied by four additional armed officers. Of course, the Chief and his men had resisted, falsely believing that they still held the power in the new world that had taken shape around them. Modified AR-15s and AK-47s had rained bullets upon the home, beating them back and injuring two of the Chief’s men. Shrapnel grenades had destroyed the entrance to the home and killed another man, allowing easy entrance to the home.
Leon and the others cleared the lower level of the home quickly before heading upstairs. In predictable fashion, they’d found the Chief, his family, and the remaining officer in the master bedroom.
Wanting to send a clear message that resistance was futile, Leon tossed a shrapnel grenade near the set of double doors. The resulting blast destroyed the doors, sending a shower of splintered wood into the space beyond. When the smoke cleared, he and his crew entered the room.
The lone officer stood and aimed his weapon a second too slow. He received a shotgun blast to the chest before he could pull the trigger, sending him backwards and through the window. Hitting the terracotta tiled roof, his body slid a short way before falling to the ground.
Standing in front of his wife and three small children, the Chief held up his hands in front of him.
“Easy there, guys. If you want money, you can have everything we have. Just take it and go.”
Leon looked at the fat, balding man. He was soft, made that way by his job, his position, and his wealth. Wealth that hadn’t come solely from a police chief’s salary. The man had long been known for taking bribes.
He’d also been known for having his men take out those he’d accepted bribes from when he felt they’d served their purpose.
“Toss over your gun,” Leon said before spitting on the marble tiled floor of the room.
The Chief complied quickly, carefully bending down and sliding his weapon on the floor towards Leon’s feet.
When the man stood, Leon aimed his pistol and shot the man in the kneecap, blowing it out from under him. Blood flew backwards, splattering his wife and children as the big man fell to the ground, wailing.
The children wailed loudly as the woman screamed. “Please, just take what you want and leave us alone!”
Looking at the attractive brunette woman, Leon smiled wickedly. “Okay. Come on, then.”
Blinking back tears, the woman looked at him, confusion showing on her face.
“W-What?”
Leon sneered. “You. Get over here, bitch.”
“Bu- but my children need me…”
Leon shook his head. “Not my problem.”
The Chief looked up from where he laid on the floor, holding his knee with both hands as he grimaced in pain. His forehead was plastered with sweat as he struggled to put together words. “Please…” he rasped, “Just leave us alone…”
Leon didn’t even look at the man as he replied. “Shut the fuck up. Another word out of you and I shoot one of those kids.”
The woman cried loudly as he made her way to her feet, her legs wobbling under her. “Please, don’t hurt my children.”
Sneering, Leon looked at her, his eyes moving up and down her body as he tried to envision what was underneath her loose fitting clothing.
‘Why am I wondering?’ he thought.
“Step closer,” he ordered the woman. She did so slowly, moving tentatively on high heels that were ridiculously inappropriate for the state of the world.
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“Strip.”
“What?” she asked, looking around the room. “Please, no. My children...don’t do this to them. I’ll...I’ll go with you, wherever you want.”
“How do I know I want you if I can’t see what you got?” Leon replied, laughing slightly.
Next to him, Miguel scoffed. “Shit...I’ll take her if you don’t want her, Leon. She looks like she’d got a nice rack.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Leon growled. He pointed his gun at one of the children, a small boy about five years old. “Strip, bitch.”
“Okay! Okay…” She reached for the buttons of her blouse and started undoing them.
Leon’s gun roared loudly in the large room, echoing off the walls as he sent a bullet into the wall above the small boy’s head.
The woman screamed as she turned to look back at her son, who’d crouched down in fear as tears spilled forth from his eyes.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Leon shouted, aiming the gun again. “Or I won’t put the next one in the wall. It’ll be in that little shit’s head.”
The woman tore her blouse off, revealing a black lace bra underneath. She reached behind her for the clasp of the bra, sobbing. She hesitated for the slightest second before undoing it and letting it fall to the ground, revealing her breasts.
Leon grinned. “That’ll do. Get over here.” Still sobbing, the woman walked over to him slowly, tears streaming down her face as she kept her eyes tightly screwed shut. When she was close enough, he reached out and grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her close to him. Looking over at Miguel and Julio he said, “Tie the rest of them up.”
From the floor, the Chief growled. “I’ll kill you…”
Leon’s gun boomed, sending a bullet into the man’s bald head. Blood and bone out of the back of his skull in a thick spray.
The woman screamed again as the children began wailing louder.
“Now there’s one less to tie up,” he sneered before using the gun to knock the woman on the side of her head, stunning her.
Surviving Rage | Book 3 Page 24
