Surviving Rage | Book 5

by Arellano, J. D.

  Part I

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas

  2018

  “Afternoon, sir,” the young airman said, making eye contact and nodding as he passed by in the hallway.

  “Afternoon, Airman,” the officer replied, barely noticing the man. He had other things on his mind, namely, why he was being called to the General’s office in the middle of the day. Part of him wondered what it could be, but the other had a good idea.

  Command screening results.

  It was his second review, and according to General Sigenthaler, who’d briefed him last year before moving on to serve at USCENTCOM in Tampa, he had been very close to being selected. Since receiving the results, he’d done everything he could to make his application even better, increasing his level of physical fitness, completing a pair of online leadership classes (which he preferred over in-person classes because they allowed him to bypass the group exercises), and completed his Joint Professional Military Education (Phase I) training.

  He was ready.

  It was his time.

  As he approached the door to the General’s Administrative Assistant’s office, he looked at his watch.

  13:12. (What civilians referred to as 1:12 pm. He programmed his watch to show military time.)

  Their scheduled meeting was at 1330.

  He was too early.

  Seeing the sign for the men’s room just past the door to the office, he moved to the fat side of the hallway and swiftly walked past, then cut back and entered the restroom.

  After relieving himself, he washed his hands and took a moment to examine himself in the mirror. His brow was creased with worry.

  ‘Come on, Sam. Be positive. You got this,’ he told himself.

  The man in the mirror didn’t show the confidence that the words had encouraged.

  The door to the men’s room burst open. A tall, dark haired man in a flight suit strode in, talking loudly into his phone. It was Lieutenant Colonel Kyle Stone, call sign “Stoner.” The man was an F-15 pilot, and by all accounts a very good one.

  He was also an arrogant asshole.

  “Yeah, babe,” Stone continued, “I got it. Selected for command.”

  Walters rolled his eyes.

  Stone paused as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone.

  “I know, right? Me, either. First time up, and I wasn’t really thinking about it. I didn’t prepare or nothin’. Like, who has time for all that extra education and training bullshit?”

  Pause.

  “I don’t know. They said either Hickam in Hawaii, or Anderson in Guam.”

  Pause.

  “Not sure. I’ll think about it.”

  Pause.

  “Uhhhh…..don’t know. Look I gotta go. Gotta take a leak and then tell the boys.”

  Pause.

  “Yeah, okay. Lates.”

  Using his thumb, Stone ended the call as he moved to the urinal. As the stream of urine left his body and began hitting the porcelain, he spoke again.

  “Babe? What’s up? It’s Stoner. Hey, guess what? Yeah, I got command.”

  Pause.

  Walters looked over at the man in disbelief, then shook his head.

  “I know. Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

  Pause.

  “Don’t know. They offered me Hawaii or Guam, but I’m not sure which one I prefer. Both have good surfing, you know?”

  Pause.

  “I don’t know. But hey, I’ve seen you in a thong. You wear a bikini like that and you can definitely come visit.”

  Having heard enough, Walters rinsed his hands once more before grabbing a paper towel.

  “Okay, lates,” Stone said, ending his call. Bypassing the sink, he looked over at Walters. “Hey, what’s up, brother?” he said, smacking him on the back with one of his unwashed hands.

  With his back turned to the other man, Sam Walters took a deep breath. ‘Be cool, Sam.’

  He turned and looked at the pilot. “Not much, just going in to see the General here in a sec.”

  “Cool, man. For command results?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. Did you hear? I got selected,” Stone said, his eyes lighting up in expectation of Walter’s excitement for him.

  Yes, I heard, you arrogant jerk. Both of your women and everyone in the hallway heard.

  “I did,” he said, smiling. “Congrats, man.”

  Stone reached out and smacked him in the back once more. “Well, hey, they need Logistics Officers, too. I’m sure you’ll get it.”

  Without saying another word, Stone moved past him and exited the men’s room. When Walters stepped out into the hallway, he heard the other man on the phone once more. “Boogie! What up, bro? I got selected!”

  Unable to take it anymore, Walters strode across the hallway and entered the office.

  A young black woman in uniform smiled at him from behind the desk. “Good afternoon, Colonel Walters. General Long is ready for you.”

  “Great,” he replied, somewhat awkwardly. Though he was an officer and the young woman was enlisted, she was very attractive, something that had always made him feel inferior.

  “Thanks,” he added, before heading into the General’s much larger office.

  “Sam!” the tall Black man said, standing up behind his desk. Coming out from behind the mahogany furniture, he extended his hand.

  ‘Is this it?’ Walters wondered briefly, as he met the man’s handshake.

  “How are you?” the General asked, pumping Sam’s hand up and down.

  “I feel like I’m doing pretty good, General, thanks,” he said, smiling, before slyly adding, “Hopefully...real good?”

  General Long smiled, then gestured to the conference table in the center of his office. “Please, have a seat.”

  ‘This is not good,’ Walters thought, feeling a sinking sensation in his gut. He sat down in one of the plush chairs at the table, knowing he wouldn’t like what was coming.

  Long took the chair across from him and placed a manilla folder between them on the table. Reaching out, he placed his hand atop the folder.

  “I’ve got the Command Selection results in here, Sam, but before I tell you how it went, I want to say that I think you’ve done a phenomenal job. You’ve got tremendous potential, and you’ve always met all the objectives I set for you. I think you’re a fine officer.”

  ‘Gosh darn it!’ Walters thought upon hearing the bad news.

  “I didn’t get selected, did I, Sir?”

  “Well, now, not exactly.”

  “Sir?”

  Was there hope?

  “You’ve asked to do one additional XO tour so that you can beef up your record. This way you’ll have a better shot next time around.”

  Walters sat back, stunned. On one hand, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ but on the other, another damn XO tour? It was what he was doing now, and he hated it. All personnel issues, all the time.

  “I…”

  “I think you should do it, Sam.”

  Walters sat back in his chair and looked away. This was such bull crap. Frickin’ malarkey. He’d put his heart and soul into this job. He deserved command. It was all he’d ever wanted.

  But he was only eligible for one more look before he’d be ‘asked’ to retire.

  Which meant that if there was still a chance, he had to take it.

  “Where is it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The assignment, Sir. Where is it?”

  “Tinker Air Force Base, near Oklahoma CIty.”

  Part II

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cameron, Texas

  2018

  Two years before the outbreak

&
nbsp; The man they’d come to know as Jeremiah shot up in his bed, covered in sweat. Beside him, a woman stirred, then woke.

  “What is it, Jeremiah?” she asked, looking at him through heavy eyelids. Last night’s sermon had gone late, and the time their family had spent together afterwards, talking about the Bible and listening to Jeremiah’s well-versed, thorough explanations of the sacred text’s meanings had taken them into the wee hours. It seemed as though she’d barely put her head on the pillow mere minutes before, but the bright light of the sun forcing its way through small gaps in the window coverings told her it was probably close to eight a.m.

  “A vision,” the man said, his voice both pained and weak.

  The seriousness of his spoken words jarred the woman fully awake in an instant. As a man of God, he chose his words carefully, and if a vision had him this upset, it meant something. “What did you see?” she asked, sitting up. Out of habit, she pulled the sheet up over her bare chest. Like several of the other women in what they referred to as his ‘family,’ she’d shared his bed many times, and he’d both seen her naked and enjoyed the curves of her body extensively, but something inside still felt the need to maintain some sense of modesty.

  Not answering, he swung his legs out of bed and rose. “Gather the family. I must share what I’ve seen.” Saying nothing else, he began to dress himself methodically as she quickly pulled on her underwear, bra, and dress. As she rushed out of the room, she saw him bend down and begin to polish his shoes. She didn’t need to stay and watch to know that no part of his appearance would be anything less than perfect when he joined them in their chapel.

  “My family, I have had a vision.” He began plainly. Though his words were simple, his tone and demeanor passed on the gravity of the situation. Running a hand through his long, slicked back hair, he knew looked stressed.

  Whatever he’d seen...

  Swallowing, he grasped the sides of the pulpit with both hands and stared down at the open Bible in front of him. He wasn’t trying to read it, though. His eyes remained unfocused as he re-lived the vision in his head.

  Fire…

  Death…

  Destruction…

  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. ‘Easy, Jeremiah. You’re their leader. You must show strength, even in the face of adversity,’ he reminded himself.

  “Death will come to this land,” he began.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cameron, Texas

  June 3rd, 2021

  “How are you feeling, Judith?” Evan asked, smiling as he carried bags of groceries towards the large building their family called a home. Two stories tall and nearly a hundred feet long, it resembled a military barracks more than a home, but, as Jeremiah liked to say, ‘home is where the family is.’ As it was, the building hadn’t started out nearly as large as it was. Two additions had been made to it already, and a third was being drafted should the need arise.

  Evan was sure the addition would be needed, and probably sooner rather than later. Jeremiah’s charisma and natural magnetism was drawing people in regularly, and as more people came, the more his reputation grew. The ‘family’ had swelled to over sixty already, both by the new recruits they’d brought in and by the seven children that had been born over the last two years, two of which had been fathered by Jeremiah himself. The man’s ‘wives’, Judith, Cynthia (who’d given him the two children), and Alexis, were all young and attractive, and each took their turn sharing his bed for a week at a time during each month. Much to Jeremiah’s frustration, the women’s cycles had aligned, so he insisted on that week being his ‘time with God,’ during which he barred the women from his quarters and devoted his time and energy to prayer and to writing in his journals.

  “Okay, I guess,” the young, dark haired woman replied, smiling. “My back hurts, as do my feet, but it’s still a blessing to have this child growing inside of me.” Leaning forward, she went to pick up a bucket of milk, which she’d apparently gotten from one of the ranch’s many cows.

  “Woah! Stop!” Evan said, rushing over to her side. If anything happened to the child she was carrying (and, to a lesser extent, the young woman), there would be hell to pay. Quickly rearranging the bags in his hands, Evan identified the lightest among them, one holding eight loaves of bread. “Here, take this and I’ll grab the milk,” he offered.

  “Thank you,” Judith replied, smiling at him with that wonderful smile of hers.

  ‘If only things were different,’ Evan told himself, holding the woman’s gaze for a moment. Swallowing thickly, he smiled awkwardly, breaking her gaze.

  They’re not. You took a vow.

  Evan reached down and easily lifted the bucket of milk, using the powerful muscles he’d developed over the last four years. He, Don, and Jeffrey and a handful of others accompanied Jeremiah to the gym every mid-morning (except Sundays, of course), where he pushed them to work their muscles as hard as humanly possible, forever on a mission to get bigger and stronger.

  ‘Soldiers of the Lord,’ Jeremiah called them early on, when prompted as to why they had to push themselves so hard.

  “Every day we must break ourselves down, then allow the Lord to help us rebuild,” Jeremiah explained, breathing heavily as he recovered between sets of flat bench presses with two hundred and twenty-five pounds of weight. Though he pushed the men to add more and more weight (which he meticulously tracked in one of his many journals), he insisted on simply remaining fit and retaining his strength, as opposed to developing bigger muscles.

  “You think I don’t want to get bigger?” he asked one day. “I see each of you, growing bigger and stronger, transforming yourselves into soldiers, and I can wish that I could do the same.”

  Shaking his head, he looked at each of them in turn. “I cannot become intimidating,” he explained to them. “At my height, were I to become overly muscular, people would shy away from me, and never give me the chance to share the word of God. Then I would become ineffective, unable to do what God put me on this earth to do.”

  Their workouts never lasted less than two hours, after which they showered and sat down to eat mountains of food, which the women prepared to their liking.

  Once their food settled, they’d begin their work around the property, performing maintenance as needed, tending the animals and crops, and ensuring the solar panels, generators, well, water heaters, and septic tank were all in good working condition.

  Bible sessions preceded their late afternoon run, giving the men a chance to relax and cool down before they fell in behind Jeremiah on the daily endurance test. The men ran along the property’s perimeter, circling the 100-acre lot 7 times to ensure they finished more than 10 miles (technically, 6 and a quarter laps would give them 10 miles, but none of the men had dared to question Jeremiah’s reasoning), and on this test, Jeremiah never held back. His long legs kept him in front of them throughout the run, and he’d routinely look back and egg them on, challenging them to try to beat him. The fastest among them, a tall, young man named Tim, had taken the challenge once, only to lose by more than a quarter mile.

  Stepping to the side, Judith held the door open for him with her back as she continued to smile at him. “Thank you for helping me,” she said, as her eyes found his. “Will you be practicing your Kung Fu later tonight?”

  Evan nodded. “Yes. Probably around nine-thirty or so.” The family’s evening Bible study usually ended at nine, and while most of the others liked to go straight to their rooms to get ready for bed, he’d found that spending time practicing the Kung Fu moves he’d learned in his teenage years was rather therapeutic.

  Six months prior, he’d used the rather meager amount of savings he had (for every dollar they earned doing odd jobs around the nearby town, seventy-five cents went to ‘the family’) to purchase an empty heavy bag. Back at the ranch, he filled it with some of the finer dirt he was able to gather from the fields, then hung it from one of the thick branches on the old oak tree behind the family home. That night he’d be
gun practicing his martial arts under the tree, punching and kicking the dirt filled bag with increasing precision as he honed his skills.

  One evening during the second week of his practice, Judith had come out and asked if she could watch.

  After some initial hesitation, he’d reluctantly agreed.

  “I’ll be quiet, I promise,” she assured him, and she was true to her word. At first he was self-conscious, knowing she was watching his every move as sweat ran off his shirtless body, but in time he’d learned to block her out of his mind and simply focus on perfecting the moves and feeling his muscles work.

  Being the kind-hearted young woman she was, Judith started bringing a chilled carafe of water and a towel for him each night. When his workout was complete, she’d smile as she passed the items to him, clearly happy that she was providing him a service.

  It was what the women in the ‘family’ had been taught to do.

  Once she started, she was there without fail, except during the weeks when she shared Jeremiah’s bed. The man insisted that whichever wife was scheduled to be with him that week go with him to his room immediately after Bible study. Then, according to Judith, he’d have her join him in the shower so that she could use a washcloth to clean his body for him. More prayer followed, then dutiful, mechanical intercourse.

  “There’s no passion, no excitement,” she’d whispered one night under the oak tree after looking around cautiously. “It’s purely for the sake of procreation,” she said, before adding, “I don’t even think he enjoys it.” Tears had formed briefly in the young woman’s eyes before she blinked them away and quickly added, “But I know I’m very lucky that he chooses to spend time with me.”

  She’d stared at the ground for a long moment, then finished with, “I just can’t help wonder what it would be like to have, you know, feelings for someone when you do … that.”

  “I’ll see you there,” the young woman said, as she fell in behind him on the way to the kitchen.