Surviving Rage | Book 3

by Arellano, J. D.

  Over her left shoulder, the Humvee’s radio squawked. There was nothing but static for the first few seconds, then, “San Francisco Protective Zone, come in….”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  West of Lemoore Station, California

  Burning, searing pain invaded his brain as Daniel tried to open his eyes.

  “Damn!” he muttered, turning his head away from the light and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. The light streaming in through the window was minimal, filtered by the light yellow drapes with small blue flowers, but what made it through burned into his optical nerves like a hot poker.

  He heard Serafina’s footsteps on the wood floor as she walked into the bedroom.

  “Honey?”

  “Unnhhh...yeah,” he replied, wincing while keeping his eyes firmly closed.

  Serafina crouched next to him as she brought her hand up to gently grab his right arm. “How are you feeling?”

  Still wincing, Daniel began to shake his head before the pounding intensified at the smallest movement. “Head hurts,” he said before bringing his left hand up to massage his temples softly.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have ice, but I can get you some Tylenol,” Serafina offered as she gently rubbed his other arm.

  “Please.”

  Turning and looking towards the doorway, where Ashley and Brenna watched and waited, Serafina asked, “Can one of you get your Dad the Tylenol and the other get a bottle of water?” The girls nodded and quickly left.

  “Fuck, my head hurts. Can you close the shade?”

  “Okay,” Serafina replied, rising from her position on the floor. She moved to the window and pulled the shade closed, plunging the room into near-darkness. “Is that better?” she asked.

  Daniel blinked several times, then opened his eyes as little as possible as he tested the room’s lighting. With some effort, he managed to keep his eyes open. “Better,” he said, still wincing.

  Ashley and Brenna returned, carrying a bottle of water and the plastic container of Tylenol. Serafina accepted both, passing the bottle of water to Daniel before opening the Tylenol container and dumping some out into her hand. At first, she kept only a pair in her hand but then she hesitated, asking, “Two? Or four?”

  “Shit, give me eight,” Daniel replied, still holding his head with one hand while extending the other hand.

  Serafina scoffed before dropping four in his hand.

  Daniel brought his hand to his mouth and dropped the pills in, then tried to sit up so he could take a sip of water. The effort made the room spin, forcing him back down onto the couch, where a soft pillow cradled his head.

  “Help,” he said, holding the water bottle out in front of Serafina.

  Taking the water from him, she unscrewed the cap, then carefully brought the bottle to his lips as he carefully lifted his torso from the couch a few inches, just enough to allow the water to run down his throat. After a few gulps, he nodded. “Thanks.”

  Walking over to where her father laid on the couch, Brenna asked, “Are you alright, Dad?”

  Daniel nodded slightly. “Yeah, my head is killing me, though.”

  The young girl’s brow furrowed, her eyes showing sadness as she looked at him. “Paul’s doing a little better.”

  Surprised by her statement, Daniel was about to ask what had happened to the young man when he suddenly realized he had no idea who hit him and why.

  He slowly turned his head until he could see his wife. “What exactly happened?”

  Serafina glanced at Brenna and Ashley, who had joined them, before responding.

  Looking into his eyes, Serafina said, “Joe hit you from behind. He also attacked Paul.”

  Daniel’s eyes flashed with anger. “Son of a bitch…I was literally talking to him a few minutes before, and he was completely relaxed.” He looked up at Brenna. “Is Paul okay?”

  The girl nodded. “Yeah, it seems like he is. His head hurts, too, but he’s sitting up and eating some crackers.”

  “That’s good,” Daniel said, closing his eyes and setting his head back down on the pillow.

  Serafina’s face took on a sorrowful look as she crouched down next to Daniel. “There’s more,” she began.

  Hearing her somber tone, Daniel reopened his eyes and slowly turned his head so that he could look in her eyes. “What is it?”

  “He...took Isabella.”

  “What?!” Shocked, Daniel moved to sit up again, only to be stopped by the flood of pain that invaded his head, causing him to crash back down onto his pillow yet again.

  “Easy, honey, I’m pretty sure you have a concussion.”

  Holding his head, Daniel said, “You’re probably right.” He looked towards the far end of the room. “Shit, everything outside of about twenty feet is blurry.” Frustrated, he forced himself to deal with the pain as he worked his way onto his side so that he was facing Serafina and the girls. Grimacing throughout the effort, when he was finally in position, he relaxed slightly as he looked at his wife. “How did he take her?”

  “He drugged her. He drugged Ashley and Brenna, too. Last night, when we all had hot cocoa, he must have slipped something into their cups. I found an open package of Ambien in the medicine cabinet.”

  Daniel’s eyes grew wide as he turned to look towards the girls. “Are you okay, though? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Ashley and Brenna both nodded. “We’re okay,” Ashley replied. “Just worried about Isabella.”

  Daniel nodded. “Me, too. I hope he isn’t planning on hurting her.”

  Serafina reached out and rubbed his arm again, her brow furrowed in sorrow.

  Leaning forward again, he asked, “More water?”

  Serafina held the water bottle to his lips again, angling it so he could drink in small gulps.

  Halfway through his third sip, Daniel held a finger up.

  “Wait. Where’s Logan?”

  “He went after them.”

  Daniel laid his head back down for a moment before he replied. “Makes sense. Did he take the Prius he was driving?”

  “No, that fucker Reilley did.” Serafina replied, shaking her head. “He didn’t want to leave us stranded, so he took the old truck that was out near the barn. It’s a beater, but it runs.”

  “Hope it had gas,” Daniel said, before shifting around on the couch. His back was hurting from the lack of support the old sofa provided.

  “It was about three-quarters full, so Logan wasn’t too worried about that. He hoped to catch up within the first hundred miles, if not sooner.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. Can you help me sit up?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. My back is hurting from this damn couch.”

  “Alright,” Serafina said, standing and reaching for his arms. She pulled him upward, assisting as he got into a sitting position at the end of the couch.”

  “Do you need anything, Dad?” Ashley asked.

  “Coffee would be great,” Daniel replied, giving a half smile.

  “Okay.” The teenager turned and headed for the kitchen.

  Brenna remained where she was, looking at her father. “Anything else, Dad?”

  “You know, I’d feel ridiculous wearing them inside, but I think my sunglasses might help with the brightness. Can you grab them from the car?”

  “Sure.” Turning, the girl left the room.

  Leaning his head back against the sofa, Daniel looked at his wife. “Sorry,” he began.

  Serafina pulled back in surprise. “For what?”

  “For everything. For letting him hurt Paul, for letting him take Isabella, shit, for letting him come with us in the first place.”

  Serafina shook her head. “You did what seemed right at the time, rescuing him from those...things. None of us thought twice about it. When you see someone in danger, you help if you can. That’s what we did.” She looked towards the window, her eyes unfocused as she considered her next words. After a moment, she went on. “As for that son of
a bitch attacking you two and taking Isabella, he had us fooled into thinking he was a good guy, and we - all of us - let our guard down.”

  Daniel nodded, grimacing in pain as he did. Squinting against the light, he forced his eyes open so that he could look into Serafina’s eyes as he spoke. “We’re going to get her back,” he said, with an air of finality, indicating there was no other possible outcome in his mind.

  Serafina nodded. “I know.”

  Ashley walked back into the room, carrying a steaming cup of coffee and a small dish. “I added some powdered creamer, but they don’t have any Splenda, so I brought the sugar.” She set both items on the end table and stood up, looking down at her father.

  “Thanks, Ash,” Daniel said, smiling.

  Brenna’s voice came from the kitchen.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  She walked into the living room, carrying his sunglasses and the military radio they’d gotten near the Naval Air Station. “This thing is making a weird noise.”

  Daniel reached out. “Let me see. It might be low on battery or something.”

  Brenna handed it to him, then set his sunglasses on the end table.

  Looking at the radio, Daniel saw the battery was still nearly fully charged. Turning it up, he waited and listened. There was nothing but static.

  “Are you sure you heard something?” He asked, glancing at Brenna.

  The radio squawked in his hand. A second later, a familiar voice came through the unit’s speaker.

  “San Francisco Protective Zone, come in….”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Central California

  Joe Reilley didn’t care what people thought of him.

  He hadn’t cared what Jim and Eddy, the men who’d picked him up on the side of the road outside of Lancaster, thought of him. Not when he pushed Eddy off the top of the car when Jim wasn’t looking, essentially feeding him to the infected that surrounded them, and not when he’d fooled Jim into thinking he’d run with him when the man tried to escape.

  Along those lines, he hadn’t cared what his girlfriend thought when he left her trapped in the townhome they’d been renting, surrounded by hordes of infected who were in the process of breaking in when he’d fled.

  And he certainly didn’t give a shit what Daniel and the others thought about him taking the girl.

  He was looking out for number one, plain and simple, and in the world they were living in, that was the only way to survive.

  With society nearly completely decimated, and with it the norms that made life so damned tedious at times, he could focus on what was best for him.

  His wants and needs.

  No one else’s.

  “Shut the hell up back there!” he shouted at the girl tied up in the back seat. Her muffled cries were annoying him, and he didn’t need the distraction while he was driving fast at night on a poorly lit road that was littered with abandoned vehicles.

  Isabella would be worth a lot to the government, and he was going to make sure they paid. Not in money - that had little to no value given the state of the world - but in gold, something that would always have value.

  He’d exchange the girl for enough gold to ensure that he’d be comfortable for the rest of his days, then head towards the hills, where he’d find a nice, big, empty home, one with solar power and its own well, away from everyone.

  There he’d set himself up for the future. In his youth, he’d learned how to grow vegetables, so he’d plant a garden. Next, he’d find a truck and gather livestock from surrounding farms. Soon he’d have everything he’d need to live comfortably.

  And he’d have his nest egg of gold to fall back on, should he need it when the country inevitably made a comeback.

  He’d even have enough to hire protection, should things take a turn for the worse.

  Taking the girl had been easy enough, once he’d drugged her and the two teenagers that seemed to be with her constantly. When he’d slipped the Ambien into their hot chocolates, he’d considered giving some to the others in the house, but had quickly discarded the idea. If Paul didn’t relieve Serafina, she’d notice, and if Daniel didn’t relieve Paul, he’d notice as well.

  It would simply introduce too many variables, and variables jeopardized plans.

  So he waited.

  Something about the woman concerned him; he’d seen her watching him, and he knew it wasn’t because she found him attractive. In his life few had. No, her eyes evaluated his movements, checking to see if there was any reason for concern.

  It was why he’d spent time he normally wouldn’t spend charming and cajoling the young girl. He needed the woman to relax a bit, to let down her guard just the slightest amount, so that he could do what he needed to do.

  One thing was certain: he didn’t want to fight her.

  He’d seen the way the woman absentmindedly played with her knife, spinning it deftly in her hand in a way that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

  A close quarters fight with her was too risky. She’d likely end up gutting him like a fish.

  Instead, he waited for the easier target, the awkward teenager who’d been in the car with him and the soldier. The kid was trying to fit in, but he was clearly out of his element.

  Sneaking up on him had been easy.

  Taking the boy down had been surprisingly hard, though, Reilley thought, wincing in pain as he shifted in the driver’s seat. His ribs had taken two hard shots from the young man’s staff (who the hell was skilled at using a staff these days??) before he’d managed to simply overpower the teenager, tackling him to the ground and placing his forearm on the young man’s throat. Reilley had kept his weight atop him, pinning him down while cutting off his oxygen. The teen had thrashed violently, but with Reilley’s 60 pound weight advantage, it hadn’t done any good. Soon enough, the thrashing stopped as the boy passed out from lack of oxygen.

  Once the boy was out, Reilley quickly dragged him to the side of the house, placing him face down in the grass underneath the kitchen window. It was at that moment when the light inside the kitchen came on, startling him. Staying low, he crept back towards the front of the house as he tried to figure out what to do.

  Realizing it was most likely Daniel, who seemed to consistently wake well in advance of his scheduled guard shifts, he’d decided to tell the man that he’d simply taken over for Paul because he hadn’t been able to sleep. He dusted himself off quickly, then used his shirt tails to wipe off his face and hands before stuffing the two ends back into his pants. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked over and sat on the steps of the porch where Paul had been keeping watch and waited for Daniel to come outside.

  Sitting there, he listened intently as the man moved from the kitchen back towards the front of the house, where he did a series of exercises. Reilley rolled his eyes at the sound of the man’s movements, wondering why the guy would even bother.

  Just as the man finished, Reilley saw Paul’s wooden staff on the ground near the base of the steps. Leaning forward quickly, he used his heel to kick the staff back under the porch, then sat back down on the steps just as the front door opened.

  As he made small talk with the man, it’d taken all of his will to keep from letting on that his ribs were absolutely killing him. Pain throbbed in his side, radiating throughout his entire midsection, but he managed to act as if nothing were wrong.

  After a few minutes of chit chat, he’d risen and walked away, making his way across the porch while watching Daniel’s back over his shoulder. The man didn’t turn at all as he sat there, gazing outwards.

  He knew he had to take the man out, and do so in a quick, efficient, and, most of all, quiet manner.

  When he saw Daniel lean forward, looking down at where he and Paul had struggled, he sprung into action. Crossing the porch in quiet steps that seemed impossible for someone of his size, he pulled the handgun from the pocket of his jacket. Holding it tightly in his hand, he swung downward with all his might, hi
tting the other man in the back of his head.

  Daniel collapsed to the ground with a soft thud.

  He’d waited for a moment to be sure the man was out, but after twenty seconds, it was clear the man wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

  Returning to the house, he’d tiptoed across the living room and into the short hallway that led to the bedrooms. Fortunately for him, the girls were sleeping in the room closest to the living room, assuming their proximity to where Daniel and Serafina were sleeping would provide additional safety.

  Opening the door slowly, he peered inside, verifying that the three girls were asleep before entering. Snores echoed in the small room as the three of them slumbered.

  Within seconds he was back on the porch carrying Isabella’s limp form over his shoulder.

  He tossed her in the back seat of the Prius, then got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  The silent engine of the vehicle was a blessing even he hadn’t considered.

  Smiling in appreciation, he pressed down on the accelerator gently and drove away, keeping the car’s lights off and his speed under five miles per hour until he was back on the highway.

  He waited until he was over ten miles from the ranch house before stopping to tie Isabella up. After pulling the car to the side of the road, he used the ropes he’d found in the barn behind the house to tie her arms and feet, then wrapped an old t-shirt over her mouth.

  They didn’t have any reason to talk.

  She was simply a piece of property.

  One he’d sell for a profit.

  By the time the sun began to rise, he estimated he’d put a good forty-plus miles between himself and those he’d left behind at the ranch house. He figured they’d probably realized what he’d done about two, maybe three hours ago, about the time the woman would have gotten up to relieve Daniel for her shift.