Surviving Rage | Book 3

by Arellano, J. D.

  “Light ‘em up!” Nicholson ordered. Fuckin’ gang members. Avoiding the heavily patrolled quarantine area on the northern edge of the San Bruno Mountain State and Country Park, they’d been testing the integrity of the Protective Zone’s perimeter repeatedly over the last week, and General Armstead had made it clear that the use of deadly force was authorized when attacked.

  “Roger that!” Rodriguez replied. “Cover me!”

  “You got it!” Corporal Simmons answered before lowering the reinforced glass of the rear window. The woman’s MP-4 chattered as she sent rounds in the direction of the gunfire. “Fuck yeah! I got -”

  Her voice was drowned out by the booming sound of the M2. The area around the gang members erupted as the .50 caliber rounds tore through cars, trash cans, light poles, and anything else the gang members tried to use as protection. Bodies were ripped apart like paper mache, as leather, denim, and even kevlar were no match for the unleashed power of the heavy machine gun. Within seconds, it was over.

  The gun wound down slowly as Corporal Rodriguez looked downrange. He counted the remains of all five bodies before he provided his report.

  “Threat neutralized, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Good job, Rod.”

  “One of those was my kill,” Simmons interjected.

  “Alright,” Nicholson added, his voice filled with sarcasm, “good job, Simmons.”

  Turning the wheel back to the left, Nicholson guided the Humvee in a large circle, turning them around so that they could evaluate their attackers. Though the use of deadly force was authorized when attacked, the requirement to document all engagements that resulted in civilian casualties was a stringent one. The heavy vehicle’s right tire climbed up and over the curb before completing the turn, dropping them back down to the street in a jarring thump. Nicholson used minimal pressure on the gas pedal as they descended the hill.

  From the passenger seat, Sergeant Willis began giving orders as Nicholson drove slowly back to where the M2 had shredded the bodies of their attackers.

  “Simmons, you ready?”

  “Yes, Sergeant.” With a pen in her left hand and a metal clipboard holding the required form on her lap, the young woman awaited information. The team had been through this twice in the last week, and each time the outcome was the same.

  ‘Give the civilians a couple of machine guns and they think they can take on the military,’ Nicholson thought to himself as he listened to the familiar back and forth.

  “Date June seventeen.”

  “June seventeen.”

  “Time of attack zero nine three seven.”

  “Zero nine three seven.”

  “Attack came from two seven zero.”

  “Two seven zero degrees.”

  “Five hostiles.”

  “Five hostiles.”

  “Weapons used by hostiles automatic and semi-automatic.”

  “Auto and Semi-auto.”

  The two soldiers paused in their documentation efforts when Nicholson pulled the vehicle to a stop.

  “Rodriguez, cover us,” he ordered as he stepped out of the Humvee, into the cool morning air. The morning fog had only recently burned off, and the area was still covered in a layer of dew. He’d always thought of the California coastal cities as being warm, sunny, and pleasant, but some of the days he’d spent in the San Francisco area had chilled him to the bone.

  Looking around, he found it hard to imagine that the nearby homes had only recently sold for a million dollars or more. Old, small, and stacked nearly on top of one another, the small structures looked small enough to fit inside the bottom floor of his childhood home in Kansas. He wondered what his home looked like now, after the outbreak of the Rage virus had run through their state. During the one conversation he’d had with his mother, his father had already been sick. The next day, there’d been no answer on any phone he’d dialed.

  His right boot kicked aside an empty Bang energy drink can as he stepped up onto the curb and looked down at the bodies of the dead gang members. As his eyes settled on the face of a young white woman with cornrows and a face tattoo, he shook his head and asked, “Why?”

  Standing next to him, Willis looked down as well. “No idea, Staff Sergeant. Desperation?”

  Nicholson shook his head more firmly. “Not buying it. If they come in, they get the food, water, and medicine they need. They just have to go through the quarantine.” Looking up at his squad, he said. “Make sure you’ve got your P.G. on properly before you touch anything.” P.G. was short for protective gear, heavy duty latex and other non-permeable material they wore under their uniforms that was designed to ensure no liquid came in contact with their skin.

  “Roger,” the members responded.

  Stepping away from the others, he returned to the Humvee while they completed their survey and documentation. Leaning against the hood of the vehicle, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. Taking one from the pack, he stuck it in his mouth and lit it, using the zippo lighter he’d found the day before.

  “Those things will kill you.”

  Looking over at the young woman who’d joined him, he smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

  Simply put, Corporal Lisa Zhang was a mystery. A beautiful young woman of Chinese descent, she’d grown up in Los Angeles, where she excelled in school, earning a 4.30 GPA in high school, a nearly perfect score on her SATs, and academic scholarship offers to a half-dozen great colleges.

  And then enlisted in the Army.

  Her parents had been furious. ‘I was finally eighteen,’ she’d explained to him one day, ‘I was tired of them planning my life for me, and I was finally able to make my own decisions. They couldn’t do anything about it.’

  “Of course,” she began, reaching for the cigarette as she leaned back against the Humvee, “there were a shitload of people who didn’t smoke and died of this fucking virus anyway.”

  Passing the cigarette to her, Nicholson chuckled. The young woman’s language surprised him at times. “Yep,” he said, smiling.

  Taking a short puff from the stick, she suddenly pulled it away from her lips and passed it back. Leaning forward, she peered towards the home across the street. “What is that?”

  “What?”

  “There, near the house,” she said, pointing.

  It took him several seconds before his eyes found what she was pointing at. A small piece of pink fabric was stuck on the edge of the fence that led to the home’s backyard. Nearby on the ground at the base of the fence was an old, tattered doll.

  Nicholson shrugged. “An old doll? Seen a bunch of those.”

  Zhang shook her head, standing up and stepping forward. “No, in the backyard. The dog house.”

  Curious now, Nicholson stood up and looked towards the wooden dog house. Near the edge of the opening, another piece of pink fabric, much smaller than that on the fence, flapped lightly in the wind. The interior of the little structure was dark, but as he watched, something moved inside.

  “A dog?” He offered.

  Corporal Zhang’s eyes remained locked on the dog house as she shook her head again. “Not unless that dog’s wearing an outfit. I saw a flash of color.”

  Flicking his cigarette away, Nicholson took a deep breath. “Alright. Guess we’d better check it out.” He walked over and grabbed his MP-4 from inside the armored vehicle. “Willis, we’re gonna check something out. Finish up the report and we’ll be right back.”

  “Copy that Staff Sergeant.” Willis replied, still focused on documenting the scene.

  Nicholson looked up at Rodriguez, who was still manning the .50 cal, and nodded. The man nodded in return.

  “I got you, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nicholson’s eyes met Zhang’s. “Let’s check it out.”

  Zhang brought her weapon around from her back and took hold of it. “Roger that,” she said, nodding.

  Nicholson led the way across the street, turning his head slightly as he looked
up and down the street. He knew Rodriguez was keeping a close eye on their surroundings, but he wasn’t about to ignore his habitual tendencies in favor of complacency. Reaching the edge of the street, he stepped up onto the sidewalk, watching the dog house as they approached the home’s metal fence, which was designed more for decoration than security, with simple white powder-coated metal bars mounted vertically on top and bottom horizontal support bars.

  His boots crushed grass and weeds as he led them across the home’s small front yard and to the fence. Keeping his right hand near the trigger of his weapon, he reached up and tested the gate. It was latched closed. Leaning to the side, he looked back to where the latch sat inside its slot. There was no lock on the latch, so he reached over and pulled back the top part, opening it as he nudged the gate open with his foot. Stepping through, his eyes quickly glanced around the backyard, looking for threats, before returning to the dog house. It was bigger than he’d first thought, clearly designed for a large dog to rest comfortably in. In front of the dog house, a pair of empty bowls sat in the grass.

  Pausing, he let the gate rest against his shoulder until he felt Zhang take hold of it. Moving closer to the dog house, he saw movement within, a slight shift that elicited a creaking sound from the wooden structure. Leaning down, he could clearly see the dark fabric of a blue jacket.

  Sniffling sounds came from within the dog house.

  Stepping back, he took hold of his rifle with both hands, keeping his trigger finger close to its home as he gave instructions in a firm, clear voice. “Alright, come on out of there.”

  A soft voice called out from within.

  “Please…”

  It sounded like that of a young girl, but Nicholson wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Come on. Out. We won’t hurt you if you obey our instructions.”

  More sniffling, accompanied by a second voice as whispers were exchanged from within the wooden structure.

  The voice called out again. “Promise?”

  Nicholson nodded as he replied. “Yes. If you have a weapon, toss it out before you come out. As long as you’re not armed, we won’t view you as a threat.”

  There was a long pause, accompanied by quiet whispering inside the dog house. Nicholson glanced at Zhang and raised his eyebrows. She met his eyes and gave a slight shake of her head as she kept her rifle trained on the dog house.

  There was a slight scrape before a small object flew out of the wooden structure.

  It was a meat tenderizer, about six inches in length and made of stainless steel.

  “That’s all we have!”

  Nicholson relaxed, then motioned for Zhang to move back a bit. Lowering his voice, he said, “Maintain cover, but give us some space. I think it’s just kids.”

  Zhang nodded. “Roger.” She backed away and to her right, maintaining watch on the front of the dog house.

  Nicholson lowered his weapon. “Alright. Come on out.”

  More scraping came from inside the dog house before a foot emerged, followed by a leg, then the rest of a young black girl. Dirty from head to toe, the girl looked to be about ten years old, with dark, skin and tightly curled hair that was a mess. She wore a light blue t-shirt that showed a graphic logo for the Disney movie “Frozen” and a pair of recently torn blue jeans. Looking up at Nicholson with scared, brown eyes, the girl asked, “Are you gonna arrest us?”

  Feeling his heart melt, he shook his head and kneeled down. With his right hand, he motioned for Zhang to lower her weapon.

  Looking in the young girl’s eyes, he said, “No, sweetie, we’re not going to arrest you.”

  The girl shifted on her feet nervously, looking downward as she did.

  “Is there someone else in there?” Nicholson asked.

  The girl nodded.

  “Why don’t you have him come out?”

  “Okay,” the girl said nervously before leaning down and speaking into the opening. “Come on, Lebron.”

  Hearing the name, Nicholson smiled. “If Lebron James comes out of there, I’m gonna freak out,” he told the young girl.

  The girl smiled slightly. “It’s not Lebron James, silly. It’s my brother.”

  A young black boy slid out of the dog house with ease, rising to his feet to stand next to his sister as he stared at Nicholson. A graphic Lebron James t-shirt covered his torso, while a pair of dark blue sweatpants covered his lower body. Like his sister, his clothes were dirty and torn.

  Nicholson smiled. “Hi, Lebron.”

  The boy’s eyes darted down and away. “Hi…”

  Nicholson glanced at his hands and arms to verify his P.G. was still in place before asking, “Are you two hungry?”

  Both of the children nodded slowly.

  Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a protein bar and held it out towards them. “Here you go. It’s peanut butter. My favorite.”

  When the young girl reached for it, he pulled it back slightly. “First you need to tell me your name, though. Mine’s Todd.”

  Still reaching for the protein bar, the girl looked up at him. “I’m Tasha.”

  Passing the bar to her, he smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Tasha.”

  The girl tore the wrapper of the protein bar open and broke it in half, passing a piece to her brother before taking a bite of her piece. The two of them ate ravenously, chewing rapidly before swallowing.

  Without looking up, Nicholson called out to Corporal Zhang. “Zhang, go to the truck and get a couple bottles of water and another protein bar or two.”

  “Roger that.” The young woman turned and walked back to the Humvee.

  “How long have you two been hiding here?” Nicholson asked, switching his position so that he was on one knee.

  Tasha paused with the last piece of the protein bar in her hand. “Two days,” she replied before returning her focus to what remained of the bar, which wasn’t much at this point. She shoved the last piece in her mouth and chewed it with determination.

  Nicholson’s mind raced as he tried to imagine the two children standing in front of him hiding inside the dog house, hungry and cold, for two days. His eyes wandered down to the two bowls on the ground in front of them. He wondered if they’d eaten and drank what had been there, then wondered if anything had been there.

  Zhang returned, holding a pair of water bottles in one hand and two more protein bars in the other. Over her arm she’d draped a pair of wool blankets they’d kept in Humvee for exactly this purpose.

  Good thinking.

  She passed a bottle of water and a protein bar to each of the children, then held up one of the blankets.

  “Cold?”

  Both of the children nodded.

  Stepping forward, she draped one of the blankets around the young boy’s shoulders.

  “Here you go,” she said, smiling before repeating the process for the girl.

  “Thank you,” the girl said, smiling as she tore into the protein bar.

  Nicholson stood up and nodded at Zhang. “Thanks.” He watched the children for a while as they ate and drank, then asked. “Where are you from?”

  The girl looked at her brother, who looked up at her in return. After a short pause, she said, “Los Angeles.”

  Her response stunned him momentarily. “You came all this way by yourself?” he asked.

  The girl shook her head. “No,” she said, still chewing a bite of protein bar. “Our parents brought us.”

  Nicholson paused, looking around the yard and towards the house. “Are they here?”

  Sadness came over the girl’s face as she shook her head again. “No.”

  Nicholson watched as tears formed in the girl’s eyes. Under normal circumstances, he’d offer her a tissue, but he didn’t have any, so he could little more than wait.

  The girl said nothing as she took another bite of the bar while tears streamed down her face. After chewing the next bit, she huffed, then offered. “They almost made it.”

  “So they’re close?”


  The girl nodded. “Yeah.” She burst out in tears. “But they died.”

  Nicholson reached out and rubbed the girl’s arm lightly, wishing he felt comfortable enough to embrace her. Unfortunately, he had no idea if the girl had been in contact with someone who was infected.

  “Did they get sick?” He asked, gently.

  The girl shook her head. “No. Some bad people killed them.”

  Nicholson looked downward as he shook his head. When he raised it, his eyes met the young girl’s. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He knew the gangs in San Jose had been actively attacking travelers headed towards San Francisco, taking what they wanted from them without hesitation. Only the truly lucky survived those encounters. He also knew that they were being led by a man with a particularly sadistic streak in him, a man referred to as “The Lion” or “Leon.”

  The girl drank from her water bottle. “The bad men were chasing us, and my parents found a drain pipe that led to the other side of the street. They couldn’t fit, though, so Momma told us to go on ahead and that they’d catch up with us in a few minutes.” The girl was crying more openly now, struggling to get the words out as she spoke. “We heard shooting, then my Momma screaming. They never came.” She took a small sip of her water before she went on. “After a few hours, we heard people coming, so we ran. We made it here, but were too tired to go any further. Then we realized we didn’t know where to go.”

  “The bad men that chased you. Was one of them Leon?”

  Tasha shook her head. “No. When we were hiding, I heard them talking about him, though.”

  Nicholson cocked his head, curious about the information the girl had. “What were they saying?”

  The girl looked away. “They said he was weak. That they weren’t scared of him.”

  “I see.” Nicholson responded. “So they weren’t working for him?”

  “I think they did, but they didn’t respect him,” the girl replied, looking over at her brother, who was struggling to open his bottle of water. She grabbed it from him and opened it. Passing it back to him, she added. “They were more worried about someone else.”