Surviving Rage | Book 5

by Arellano, J. D.

  ‘And then?’ he asked himself, as he began to run along the road.

  ‘Not much else,’ he answered. They’d verified their theory was sound, testing it over and over again, but since then they’d been stuck.

  They’d tried using the absolute smallest amounts of the virus in lab rats in hopes that the rats would be able to overcome it and eventually recover, but time after time - after time - the rats were unable to hold off the intense molecular changes that drove them into madness.

  When they’d exhausted their previously large supply of lab rats, they’d considered using wild rabbits that could be caught on the base, but nothing they’d learned had given them any confidence that the end result would be any differen, so they’d canned that idea.

  They couldn’t weaken the virus enough to make it anything less than overwhelming for the body’s nervous system.

  Unable to use what they knew or the available samples they had, they’d been forced to wait for someone immune to step forward and allow themselves to be tested.

  ‘Thank God the girl survived,’ Andrew said to himself as he rounded a corner and began to run along the stretch of road that led in front of the housing areas.

  With any luck, once Jonathan and the others brought the girl back to Mount Weather, he, Jonathan, and Doctor Bowman would be able to ‘reverse engineer’ a vaccine.

  With any luck…

  “Having fun, ‘Doc?’”

  Startled, Andrew stumbled slightly before catching himself. Looking over, he saw a frizzy-haired, slightly heavy blonde woman standing on the curb, glaring at him as she lifted a cigarette to her mouth and took a drag.

  ‘Those are still available?’ Andrew wondered briefly.

  Slowing a bit, he asked, “Excuse me?”

  Snorting, the woman blew out a cloud of smoke and sneered at him. “I said, ‘having fun?’”

  ‘You mean, you ‘asked,’’ he thought.

  “I’m sorry?” Andrew replied, coming to a stop on the street.

  “You’re out here, running around the base, having a good ol’ time, while the rest of us are cooped up in these little rooms. It must be fuckin’ nice.”

  “Yeah!” A skinny Black man chimed in, walking up and positioning himself next to the woman. “Ya’ll comfortable over there in the nicer building, prolly enjoying fill-ay ming known, and we’re stuffed into these little rooms without AC. We sweatin’ and only able ta shower twice a week! Da fuck is up with dat?”

  “I...don’t…”

  “Pssh. Yeah, right,” the man said, stepping closer.

  Andrew put his hands up. “I-we...are trying to solve this,” he offered.

  “Bullshit,” the woman replied as she fell in line next to the man. Together, the two of them began to close in on Andrew, their eyes filled with normal, human - but still frightening - anger. As he stared at them, he saw others emerge from the nearby building and start heading in his direction as well. Though they were still a hundred yards away, he could see anger in their faces and in the way that walked towards him.

  Correction: Marched towards him.

  “Listen, everyone, I - ”

  “Save it, ‘Doc’. You and your so-called team have been working on a cure for nearly three weeks! Have you found one? What’s taking so long?” The man shouted, stepping closer.

  Andrew backed away, suddenly wishing he had Jonathan’s dog Steight by his side.

  “Yeah! And instead of working on it, you’re out here prancing around, not a care in the world!” The frizzy haired blonde woman added.

  “Wait, that’s not fair, we - ”

  “Fuck you!” The man lunged forward suddenly, his arms extended. Andrew backed away, trying to stay out of the man’s reach, but the man’s arms were too long. Hands grasped Chang’s Air Force dri-fit t-shirt, stopping him.

  Andrew’s eyes went wide as he stared into the man’s anger filled face. Was the man going to hit him? He’d never been in a fight. Ever. He was an academic, not someone who looked for or allowed himself to be in the presence of physical danger.

  “Step back!!” A loud voice yelled through a megaphone as tires squealed on the pavement behind Andrew.

  The man and women froze in place, staring in the direction of the voice. Behind them, the crowd stopped their advance as they watched the scene unfold.

  Still held in place by the man, Andrew twisted his head around to look for the owner of the voice and found the familiar face of Corporal Johnson as the young man stepped out of the white government van. Striding forward, he ignored Andrew as he reached out and yanked the thin Black man’s hand away, forcing him to release his grip on Andrew’s shirt.

  “Back up!” He shouted, his voice strong and authoritative. Without hesitation, both the man and woman did so, suddenly cowed by Johnson’s muscular stature and forceful demeanor.

  Once they’d done so, Johnson glared at them a few seconds longer, then looked at Andrew out of the corner of his eye. “Let’s get out of here, Doc.”

  Andrew nodded. “Okay.”

  The two of them moved towards the van, Corporal Johnson watching the crowd the entire time. Once they were inside the vehicle, the driver, an Army soldier Chang had been yet to meet, slammed his foot down on the gas, causing the van to jump forward suddenly.

  “Shit’s crazy, Doc,” Johnson said from his spot next to Andrew.

  “I had no idea,” Andrew replied, shaking his head. “I went out for a run the day before yesterday and didn’t have any problems.”

  Deandre shook his head. “I don’t know, Sir. People are getting restless, more and more everyday. I…” he looked away, staring out the window as the base passed by in the windows. “I guess they just want to know things will be okay.”

  “They will be,” Andrew said, reflexively.

  “Are you sure?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  San Francisco Protective Zone, California

  Day 0

  The man laughed, causing fog to form on the inside of his face shield. Though the shield, along with the other clean gear he wore, was uncomfortable, he knew it was necessary.

  Maintaining a clean environment was critical, and any source of contamination could have major impacts on the outcome of the product he’d been meticulously working on.

  ‘So far, so good,’ he thought to himself, as he examined the dark liquid.

  No one outside the home, military or the civilian, had any idea what he was doing, and when they found out...

  A devious smile formed his face as measured the pH of the liquid. This was going to be intense, and people would definitely feel it.

  He’d make sure the military were the first to experience his creation.

  And they would know his name.

  ‘Okay, time for the next stage,’ he thought, as he paused to admire his work.

  A shadow formed on the wall, in front of him, startling him.

  “Are you still working on that?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Dork,” Serafina replied, shaking her head as she leaned against the doorframe. “You know, there’s still plenty of beer available out there. You don’t have to make your own.”

  “I know, but I want to learn how to do it. And I thought I could make something different.”

  “After all we’ve been through, can’t you just relax?”

  Placing his hand on the counter, he looked back at her, the look on his face changing to a serious one. “You know, it’s weird. I actually can’t. It’s like we were just going, going, going, and now…” he gestured beyond where she stood, towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the Pacifci Ocean. “I mean, this is incredible, and General Armstead arranging for us to stay here was awesome, but I feel like all we do is eat, sleep, and relax.” He shrugged. “I guess I just feel...I don’t know, like I should be doing something to help.”

  His wife’s face softened. Walking to him, she extended her arms and wrapped them around him, careful not to apply pressure to his inj
ured shoulder or side. “You did a lot. We all did,” she said softly, resting her on his shoulder. “You deserve a chance to take it easy for a bit, but if making beer makes you happy, okay.” Pulling away slightly, she looked down towards his midsection, then back into his eyes. “Just know that I’m not missing all the weight you lost.”

  Feeling himself turning red, Daniel shook his head. “Okay, fine. I’ll only sample it. Mostly I’ll make it for others, in particular the military who are out there, keeping us safe.”

  “Sounds good, now, come on. I made lunch,” she said, turning away, while holding his hand to lead him from the room.

  “Okay,” he said, glancing at the bucket of dark liquid once more. ‘This is pretty fun, though, he thought as he turned away and followed her from the garage back into the house. Passing the study, his eyes glanced at the books that the home’s previous owner had left on the desk near the window.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, pulling his hand from hers.

  “What is it?” Serafina asked, as he strode over to the desk.

  Grabbing the heavy, thirteen hundred page manual off the desk, he held it up. “Remember this?” he asked.

  Serafina scoffed. “Pssh. Yeah. You had your head buried in that thing for months before your certification.”

  Flipping through the pages of the Certified Information Systems Security Professional study guide, Daniel noted all the highlighted pages. “Brings back memories,” he said.

  “Not good ones. You were really stressed during that time.”

  “Yeah, but you know what helped?”

  “Me?” Serafina asked.

  Daniel grinned. “I was gonna say beer.”

  Serafina raised a fist in mock anger.

  “Okay, sorry. You know it was you,” he relented, before turning back to the desk. He dropped the book on the desk, where it landed with a heavy thump.

  “Good stuff in there, though,” he said, before turning to follow Serafina to the front deck of the home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mount Weather Operations Center, Virginia

  Day 0

  Doctor Andrew Chang stood up quickly from his chair at the sight of President Martinez entering the room. ‘This is becoming all too familiar,’ he thought, as he nodded at Alan Roberson, the Secretary of State, who sat across from him. It seemed odd to be so near the head of the table, but the fact that his seat was that much closer to the President’s than it had been barely two weeks ago was a testament to the increased importance of his position, and the trust that the President held in his judgement.

  ‘I won’t let you down,’ he thought to himself as he smiled at her before taking his seat.

  As usual, the President’s formally neatly pressed suit was a slightly wrinkled mess. She’d refused to let the Navy Sailors that worked in her building waste electricity, which was at a premium, ironing her clothes, so what she wore was the best that she could do, given the circumstances. She’d previously confided in the group present that she’d taken to hanging her suits and blouses in her quarters’ bathroom, where the steam got some of the wrinkles out while she or her husband showered.

  At least some of them.

  At times she was clearly embarrassed and frustrated by her appearance (her hair hadn’t seen a blow dryer any time recently, either), but to her credit, she never complained. Instead, she realized that there were bigger concerns at hand, and bigger challenges to deal with.

  And she demanded that everyone else keep that in mind as well.

  “Okay, everyone,” President Martinez began, “the reason I called you all together today on short notice is a simple one.

  “We are running out of time.

  “Our population has been decimated by this virus. By most estimates, over two hundred million of our citizens have been killed by the Rage Virus, and even with the majority of the people safely inside the Protective Zones, if nothing changes, that number will likely rise to two hundred and fifity million by the end of next month.

  “We need a solution, and we need it now.”

  Without warning, she turned her head and locked her eyes on Andrew.

  “Give me something, Doctor Chang.”

  Andrew couldn’t help but look away from the woman’s gaze as he struggled to find something positive to share, but the truth was, even though they’d determined a lot (the origin, the cause, and the effect), they still hadn’t figured out the most important part: the solution. Understanding what the virus did was typically enough to counteract it, using natural compounds and/or a weakened version of the virus to create a vaccine, but this was different. For starters, no matter how weakened the virus was, it had proven to be completely and utterly unstoppable in its ability to overwhelm the body’s natural defense mechanism, forcing the individual’s blood to mutate and change as the virus needed it to do to transform man or woman into rage-filled killing machines. Each and every vaccine they’d tried, whether previously developed to deal with other viruses, including Ebola, H1N1, MERS, or SARS, had proven to be ineffective.

  At this point, it seemed that all that was left was to essentially try to ‘reverse engineer’ an immunity by developing an injectable compound from an immune person’s blood, something that was both a long-shot and incredibly difficult.

  But it was all they had.

  And the sooner they got to work on it, the sooner they’d come to a solution.

  Which gave him an idea.

  “We go to them, Madam President,” Andrew said unexpectedly.

  President Martinez recoiled slightly, blinked, and frowned. “What?”

  “Madam President, as you said, time is running out.”

  “That’s true…”

  “Waiting for Jonathan - I mean, Doctor Reed - and the girl, Isabella here, is just that: waiting.

  “We don’t have time to wait, Madam President. If they were flying, sure, but driving, via convoy, with who knows what they’ll encounter along the way?”

  Doctor Chang shook his head.

  Turning slightly to look at Doctor Bowman, he finished. “We can’t wait that long.”

  Lisa Bowman met his gaze, and in that moment, understood exactly what he was saying.

  President Martinez cocked her head to the side as her forehead furrowed in concern. “What are you proposing, then?”

  Andrew turned to Lisa and nodded, indicating she should take the lead. At this point, the doctors understood one another and rationalized things in the same way. He was confident that he’d led her to the same solution that he’d formulated.

  And he was right.

  “We meet them halfway,” Bowman replied, looking back at the leader of the country.

  President Martinez leaned back in her seat as she considered what the Doctor Bowman had proposed. There was little to debate. Time was of the essence, and meeting Doctor Reed and the girl (Isabella Rodriguez, she reminded herself), somewhere near the middle of the country could end up saving tens, maybe hundreds of thousands, of lives.

  Nodding, she conceded. “But where?”

  “Well,” Andrew began, “to be honest, four of the top five medical research laboratories are on the coasts,”

  “Damn liberals,” the President said, unable to help herself.

  “...Stanford, UC Berkeley and UC San Diego on the West Coast, along with Johns Hopkins, Harvard, and Columbia University on the East Coast. The CDC would be another great option, but, since it’s down in Atlanta, basically just as far away, that’s not a great option, either,” Chang finished.

  “What about UT?” the Secretary of State suggested.

  “That could work,” Andrew replied, nodding.

  “Or U of M,” one of the President’s aides added, “From what I’ve heard, they have a state-of-the-art research facility.”

  President Martinez shook her head. “No, that won’t work.”

  The people at the conference table turned to her, waiting for an explanation to her position, though they recognized her position ex
empted her from the need to provide one. If she said, ‘no’, that was the answer.

  Regardless of the need, she provided one.

  “Either place would require a significant military presence to provide protection to ensure Doctors Chang, Bowman, and Reed could do their work in a safe environment. Unless we’re going to pull troops from one of the Protective Zones - all of which are operating on bare minimums, according to General Manning - I don’t see how they could be provided with that type of environment.”

  Turning to look at the uniformed service member that had been assigned to run the audiovisual equipment, President Martinez said, “Senior Airman Smith, can you pull up the operational map?”

  “Yes, Madam President,” the young woman replied, before hitting a series of keys. Within seconds, a map of the United States appeared on all three of the big screens that dominated the far wall of the room. Green glowing circles surrounded San Francisco, Oklahoma City, Indianapolis, and Boston, while blue glowing circles surrounded NORAD near Colorado Springs, the CDC in Atlanta, and their location in the northern part of the state of Virginia.

  “Alright,” the President began, “from what I can tell, the most central safe location in the country would be the Protective Zone in Oklahoma City. What do we have there?”

  As the others considered the President’s question, the Senior Airman punched a series of keys on the keyboard that sat in front of her. Though the Internet was mostly down, the data center’s internal servers, which had long ago been programmed to download information from data gathering websites, still held tremendous amounts of information. After a few seconds, the young woman looked around, verifying that no one else was about to speak. Once she was confident that she wouldn’t be interrupting anyone she spoke up. “Ma’am, the Oklahoma Medical Research Facility is in Oklahoma City…”

  The room went quiet as the people within considered the woman’s suggestion. After a minute, Doctor Chang said, “The doctors there have done some impressive work analyzing autoimmune diseases, cancer, and a number of other challenging medical conditions. The facility probably has everything we need to do the work we need to do.”