Surviving Rage | Book 5

by Arellano, J. D.

By four a.m., the warehouse was ablaze. Flames leapt into the sky, fueled by the gasoline-soaked stacks of cardboard that had been strategically placed throughout the building. The remaining food that had been left behind, over two-thirds of the total amount stored in the warehouse, was destroyed, as dried foods burned and cans of food burst and spilled out onto shelves and flooring as their contents expanded under the intense heat.

  Still unconscious when the fires were set, Specialist Mejia never woke up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Outside of Needles, California

  Day 2

  Rising from the lumpy mattress, Steve Sommer looked around the dimly lit bedroom. A thick layer of dust covered nearly every surface, and if he hadn’t taken the time to shake out the old comforter that covered the bed before he’d crawled in it the previous night, he’d probably be covered in a layer of it himself. As it was, the air in the room felt dry, and the scratchiness he felt in his throat confirmed it. Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood up and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the muscles extending after close to ten hours on the back of a motorcycle and six hours sleeping on a mattress well past its usable life.

  Moving through the small home, his bare feet slapped on the old wood flooring, kicking up more dust. ‘I wonder how long this place was empty before I got here?’ he asked himself as he grabbed one of the few remaining bottles of water from the small plastic shelving rack that sat next to the kitchen counter.

  Realizing that a cup of coffee would do wonders, he moved into the kitchen, still holding the bottle of water and searched the cupboards. As luck would have it, he found both a stove top percolator and a can full of grounds. Moving to the stove, he closed his eyes and said a short prayer before turning the knob. The stovetop clicked twice before a blue flame surrounded the gas ring.

  ‘This is gonna be a good day,’ he said to himself as he set the percolator over the flame. Leaving the pot to boil, he returned to the cupboards, where he found an open box of raisin bran, numerous cans of vegetables, and an unopened box of saltine crackers.

  He was about to check the cereal when he caught himself. Stepping over to the refrigerator, he paused, then opened it. A powerful stench assaulted his senses, making him turn away and slam the door closed. Shaking his head, he returned to the cupboard and looked through cans once more before selecting one with garbanzo beans. ‘Protein, and easy one the stomach,’ he told himself as he pulled a handheld can opener from one of the drawers.

  With the open can in hand, he grabbed the box of saltine crackers from the cupboard and a spoon from one of the other drawers before heading to the small table next to the kitchen. He had just sat down in the chair when he heard the percolator start to rumble atop the stove. Leaving the food behind, he went back to the kitchen and rummaged around until he found a clean coffee cup. He filled the cup with hot coffee, then returned to the table.

  He had just finished his first cup of coffee and was on his way back to the stove to refill it when he felt the cell phone he’d been given buzz in his pocket.

  Setting the empty cup down on the counter, he withdrew the phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and opened the text message application.

  92 00 33 50 62 31 94 51 94 41 74 41 53 81 10 43 60 81 30 93 51 53 63 74 63 22 74 91 93 52 81 40 52 40 33 82 41 94 00 61 43 72 53 42 20 32 41 83 21 61 32 22 50 92 74 53 81 20 42 80 62 63 82 61 21 82 32 50 72 90 83 93 71 91 43 94 22 41 74 63 21 81

  74

  “Gonna need more coffee for this,” he said aloud. After filling his coffee cup once more, he returned to the table and set both the phone and cup down before heading to the bedroom to retrieve the times he’d need to decode the message from his backpack.

  Ten minutes later, he looked down at the piece of paper on the table, read the message, and smiled. It was exactly the info he needed to know. ‘This Judas character is turning out to be pretty helpful,’ he thought.

  Downing what was left of his coffee, he quickly ate the can of garbanzo beans cold, then took the box of saltine crackers and stuck it into his backpack, along with the remaining four bottles of water.

  Minutes later he was out the door and back onto his bike. He now knew the route his target would be taking and how long it would take them to get to their destination. He needed to be there well in advance so that he could scope out the area before they arrived. He’d set the trap that would allow him to take the girl, then kill the rest of the group.

  And he’d relish every damn second of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Near Radford, Virginia

  Day 2

  “So, where are you from?” Doctor Bowman asked the Marine sitting next to her. Andrew had asked for a chance to ride shotgun, saying that he wanted to see and understand more about what was happening up front, but Lisa suspected that it was probably also a result of a desire to see if the seats in the front were more comfortable than the ones in the back. He’d been quietly complaining to Lisa about the lack of cushioning in the seats since sometime after lunch the day before, and he’d shown no signs of adjusting since.

  “Manhattan,” Corporal Healey replied, smiling slightly.

  “Really? Did you like it there? I mean, what’s it like?”

  “Not bad,” Healey replied, smiling more widely.

  Nodding her head in approval, Lisa added, “I’ve always wanted to go there. Just...always working, you know?”

  Healey looked down at her uniform pointedly, then back at Bowman. “Yeah. I do.”

  Lisa felt herself turning red. “I’m sorry. Of course you do. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to visit New York. Central Park...the Met...the Statue of Liberty...the Empire State Building…”

  Healey burst out laughing.

  Confused, Lisa looked at her questioningly. “What’d I miss?”

  Healey shook her head. “Sorry. Old joke,” she replied, waving with her hand as she stifled another laugh. “I’m from Manhattan, Kansas,” she explained.

  Lisa sat back in her seat and looked at the other woman, shaking her head.

  From the front seat, Staff Sergeant Khan looked over his shoulder. “Everything alright back there?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Lisa replied, still shaking her head. “Corporal Healey was just telling me where she’s from.”

  “Ahh,” Khan replied, nodding. “Let me guess, she let you think she was from New York.”

  “Yup.”

  Healey was still giggling as Khan added, “She does that to everyone. To be fair, though, being from Kansas, that’s about all she’s got.”

  “Hey…” Healey replied, frowning slightly. Turning to Lisa, she said, “It’s a nice place.”

  “Yeah, nice and flat,” Khan said, chuckling.

  Shaking her head at Khan’s comment, Lisa looked back at the Corporal. “I’m sure it’s very nice,” she said, offering a smile.

  Healey shrugged. “He’s kind of right, though. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s my home and I love it, but it can be a little..boring, I guess.”

  “Well, boring is not necessarily a bad thing,” Lisa offered, looking out the window.

  Healey looked out the window on her side of the vehicle and sighed. “Yeah, I sure miss hiking out at the Konza Prairie Biological Station.”

  “Biological Station?”

  “It’s a big wildlife preserve. Mostly tall grass areas with lots of hiking trails.”

  The Humvee lurched to the side as Khan maneuvered around a jackknifed big rig that had been badly burned. Lisa grabbed the door as she pulled herself sideways in her seat, feeling as if she were going to fall into the young Marine as the armored vehicle left the road momentarily, its powerful engine revving loudly as it dug up the road’s edge. Healey’s hand came up to help support her, pressing against her shoulder with surprising strength.

  As the Humvee returned to the road, Lisa was able to relax once more. Taking a breath, she looked over at Healey and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After
a moment, Lisa frowned and said, “You know, I’m embarrassed that I don’t know your first name.”

  Before Healey could respond, Corporal Snyder, who’d lowered himself into the vehicle to avoid bouncing around in the turret, chimed in, using his best female socialite voice, “It’s Summerrrr!” Grinning he began to climb back up into the turret.

  Corporal Summer Healey’s fist shot out, catching Snyder in the crotch, making him double over.

  By 5:30 p.m. the day’s ride in the Humvees had taken its toll on their occupants, leaving each of them tired, covered in sweat, and simultaneously feeling both a need to rehydrate and a need to urinate from all the water they’d already consumed.

  The day’s already tedious drive had been made worse by multiple detours they’d had to take in places where the road had been too jammed with wrecked cars for even the uber-capable Humvees to get by. Things had been particularly challenging around the city of Knoxville, where they’d been forced on numerous occasions to use the Humvee’s superior size and its exceptional engine torque to force their way through tight spaces, shoving smaller vehicles aside unceremoniously, leaving streaks of rubber on the road where the vehicle’s tires were forced to give way under the tremendous pressure. Each of these instances had taken place with the added stress of potential discovery and/or ambush, with each one putting them in the most vulnerable situation they could be in: hemmed in with little to no mobility.

  The stress had been nearly as draining as the heat and the rough ride the Humvees subjected them to, and just when Lisa thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Gunnery Sergeant Jeffries’s voice came over the radio.

  “Team Two, Team One, over.”

  Looking over at Andrew, Staff Sergeant Khan nodded. “Pick it up and say, ‘Team One, this is Team Two, over.’”

  Appearing surprised and a bit kidlike, Andrew followed the younger man’s instructions, speaking slowly and carefully to ensure he used the jargon correctly.

  Jeffries spoke again. “Team Two, I’m planning on finding somewhere to bunk for the night up ahead in the town of Kingston.”

  Andrew nodded, then looked at Khan.

  “Reply, ‘copy that, over.’”

  Chang brought the mic up to his mouth. “Copy that, over.” Looking back at Khan once more, Andrew waited for further instruction.

  Sensing the man’s eyes on him, Khan glanced at Andrew briefly. “That’s it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. No need for long conversations. Say what you need to say and get off the channel so the next person can use it. That’s what we’re taught.”

  “I see,” Andrew replied, nodding. “So, where do you think we’ll stay tonight?” he asked.

  Khan shrugged. “Not sure, but if I were him, I’d choose an empty house, one that’s away from other homes and structures.”

  When the Humvee in front of them turned down a small dirt road, Andrew smiled and nodded. “Looks like you were right.”

  “Well, we go through the same training, so it’s not that surprising,” Staff Sergeant Khan replied, nodding.

  The dirt road led along a low wooden fence that had been painted white sometime long ago. Though the fence was largely intact, there were two or three spots where the upper horizontal beam had collapsed and fallen inward, leaving a gap at the top of the fence. Beyond the fence, weeds, including dandelions and cottontails, covered what was once a well-kept grass lawn.

  The lead Humvee came to a stop thirty yards from the front of the house, positioned so that the house was directly to its left. Grabbing the radio’s mic, Khan keyed it.

  “Team One, Team Two. Planning on parking on the outside of your vehicle, over.”

  Jeffries’s voice came through the speaker again. “Team One copies.”

  Khan did so, slowing and bringing the vehicle alongside the first. Looking back at Healey, he said, “Stand fast. I’ll see what the plan is,” before patting Snyder’s shin to get the man’s attention. “Keep an eye on the road.”

  “Ooh rah,” Snyder replied, pivoting in the turret.

  Khan left the engine running and hopped out of the vehicle, leaving the door open.

  The Marine in the passenger seat of the other vehicle lowered his window so that Khan could hear Jeffries.

  “Take Sanchez, White, and Tomlinson. Clear the house,” the Gunnery Sergeant said. “When you get done, let us know, then clear that barn over there,” he added pointing at a tall structure that sat about sixty yards to the right of the ranch-style home. “Milligan’ll be on the fifty. You run into trouble, get out, then get the fuck down. He’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Ooh rah,” Khan replied. Turning back to the Humvee, he reached inside, grabbed his rifle, then looked at Healey. “Sit up front. If there’s any trouble, be ready to get the fuck out.”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant,” Healey replied, before opening her door and getting out. She got into the driver’s seat, then leaned forward to watch as Khan led the group of Marines inside the home.

  Climbing the steps that led to the home’s expansive porch, Staff Sergeant Azim “Ozzie” Khan felt a sudden sense of unease. He and the others had been sent to Mount Weather to provide additional security at the first word of President Martinez’s transition, but aside from the man Snyder quickly, efficiently, and without hesitation, killed the day prior, they’d had zero encounters with the infected. The man had charged at Doctor Chang much faster than his girth should have allowed him to. Had the man’s strength been enhanced by the virus?

  Nearing the door, he wondered how he’d feel afterward if he had to kill someone inside. It was one thing killing the enemy out in the mountains of Afghanistan or in the urban terrain of Iraq. Those people knew what they were doing, and they were making a conscious decision to attack American servicemembers, with an intent to kill them based on a perverted interpretation of the Koran. Though he wasn’t a practicing Muslim, he’d always viewed the Koran as a way to remind one’s self of the Oneness of God. He’d also felt that it served as a roadmap for social change built on social justice, economic equity, racial harmony, human rights, and dignity. Nothing in there talked of killing others based on their religious beliefs, so he had no problem meeting the violence of those who chose to use the Koran for evil with his own violence, one that was used out of necessity.

  Reaching the door, he moved against the wall next to the door, waited for the other Marines to position themselves on either side of the door, then knocked on the door loudly.

  “Hello? Anyone in there?”

  He waited for nearly thirty seconds, then knocked again. “Hello? U.S. Military here. Please acknowledge.”

  After another thirty seconds of waiting and hearing nothing, Khan looked at Corporal Tomlinson and nodded. With no hesitation, the Marine stepped forward and drove the heel of his boot into the door near the handle. The wood splintered and cracked as it gave way under the force of the man’s kick and the door flew open, revealing the dim interior of the home.

  Without needing to be told, White and Sanchez charged inside, weapons at their shoulders as they scanned the room for threat. Khan and Tomlinson followed, bringing their weapons up as well.

  Directly ahead was a dining room with a table and six chairs. To the left and right were hallways that led to what Khan assumed were bedrooms. Knowing the larger portion of the house was to their left, he looked at Sanchez and Tomlinson and signaled for two of them to head left. As the two men began creeping silently in that direction, he pointed at Corporal White and motioned for him to go right. The man nodded, then stepped away.

  Moving forward quietly, Khan glided towards the dining room. He paused near the wall, then swung his body around the corner, keeping his finger just above his rifle’s trigger as he did. The kitchen was empty.

  Relaxing his grip on his rifle, he glanced back at the dining table, then crouched down to look underneath. Even though he’d been able to see most of the area under the table, it didn’t hurt to check.

 
Moving into the kitchen area, he found nothing to indicate that anyone had been there recently. While the kitchen sink was devoid of dishes, there were no signs that anything had been washed recently, either.

  He walked to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. It was surprisingly empty, save an open twelve-pack of Budweiser, which were undoubtedly warm, based on the darkness of the fridge’s interior.

  Nothing.

  So why did he feel like he was missing something?

  Moving back to the dining table, he went to lean against it as he turned to look back at the kitchen, then stopped.

  Looking down at the table, he saw a thick layer of dust covering its surface.

  Except near the spot closest to the kitchen.

  His eyes widened as the realization set in that they might not be alone.

  The sound of a gunshot broke the near silence of the home’s interior.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Oklahoma City Protective Zone, Oklahoma

  Day 2

  “How bad was it, McCarthy?”

  “Bad, Sir. We lost a soldier in the fire.”

  Waiting the amount of time he thought was sufficient to indicate that he cared about the loss (he never knew how to react to news of fallen service members he didn’t personally know), Colonel Walters gave a well-practiced solemn nod. “I see. Terrible news. What caused the fire? Do we know?”

  Looking at his notes, the Army Captain said, “It appears the soldier was heating something in the microwave that had metal. Based on the location of his body, which was in the men’s restroom down the hall, we believe he wasn’t in the room when the fire started.”

  “Metal? In the microwave? Doesn’t everyone know that’s a dumb thing to do?”

  “One would think, Sir.”

  “And the food stores?”

  “Lost, Sir,” the young Army Captain replied, shaking his head. The man’s red hair was long in the front, hanging down near his eyebrows. Though barber shops were hard to find, there was no excuse.