Surviving Rage | Book 5

by Arellano, J. D.

  His arms and legs moved in perfect, measured motion, extracting maximum power and nearing perfect efficiency as he ran, his boots quietly slapping the road as he covered the half-mile in just over three minutes.

  Slowing his stride, he glanced at his watch and shook his head. ‘Getting slow in your old age, Gabriel,’ he said to himself as he turned to watch Paul approach.

  The teenager’s pace was nowhere near what Serrano had achieved, but to his credit, he did appear to be putting everything he had into the effort.

  Pulling his gun from his belt, Serrano quickly ejected the magazine, ejected the round in the chamber, removed the safety, aimed it at the ground and pulled the trigger to verify it was empty. Holding the gun in his hand, he raced back towards Paul.

  “Stop!” he commanded.

  Paul’s eyes widened at the command, but he obeyed, coming to an awkward stop on the pavement and nearly having his feet slide out from under him.

  Slapping the gun in the young man’s hand, Serrano said, “Turn and fire, two o’clock!”

  Paul hesitated as he tried to decipher the instruction.

  “Now!” Serrano yelled.

  This time, he obeyed, turning and pointing the gun in the direction indicated. Still heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, he pulled the trigger. As expected, the gun clicked empty.

  “Fail!” Serrano growled. “Again!”

  As Paul repeated the effort, his hand shook from the adrenaline pulsing through him.

  “Fix your stance! Again!”

  Paul set his feet and brought his left hand up to steady the right one, pressing his palm under the butt of the gun. He pulled the trigger.

  “Better,” Serrano said, “Now, twelve o’clock.”

  Paul pivoted and pulled the trigger. His hand wavered for a minute, then steadied.

  “Good. Ten o’clock.”

  Pivot.

  Shoot.

  “One o’clock.”

  Pivot.

  Shoot.

  “Good. Give me the gun.”

  Still breathing heavily, Paul did so, staring at Serrano in bewilderment as he did.

  Serrano offered no explanation. “Let’s go,” he said, holding his gun with the barrel pointed down as he walked, even though he knew it was empty. Rules were rules, and there was nothing to gain by ignoring them when it came to firearm safety.

  When they close enough to the Stryker to be heard, Logan called out, “You done messing around out there?”

  Serrano shook his head. “Not messing around. Training.”

  “What...was...that?” Paul asked, stopping and putting his hands on his hips.

  “Like I said, kid, training. I thought it up as I watched you run towards me, and it was better and more relevant than anything you would have learned in Boot Camp.”

  Atop the vehicle, Logan nodded. “I could see that.”

  “I, but how?” the teenager asked.

  “If we run into a large number of infected, chances are we’ll run if we can. That’s the smart thing to do. Remember: if the mission can be accomplished without a fight, it should be.”

  He held up his hand and counted off. “Evade, subdue, kill. In that order.”

  “Okay…”

  “The run was part of ‘evade.’ With the infected, there will likely be no opportunity to subdue them, so we skipped that and went to ‘kill.’”

  Paul opened his mouth to say something, but Serrano held up his hand, cutting him off.

  “I had you transition right into shooting because that’s a realistic, highly probable scenario. You run for cover, get to it, then stop and engage the enemy.”

  “I see.”

  Serrano’s demeanor softened, and he moved forward to clasp the youth on the shoulder. “You did good.”

  “Uh, thank you, um...Chili.”

  Serrano smiled. “Cool. Now, why don’t you get your shit and head inside. There’s water in the bathroom if you need to clean up. Get some rest. We’re heading out at zero seven, so I’ll be waking everyone up at six.”

  “Yes, uh, Chili,” he replied, nodding before grabbing his stuff and heading inside.

  Serrano climbed up onto the Infantry Carrier Vehicle and sat down beside Logan. “They seem to get younger and younger every year.”

  Logan nodded slowly. “And that’s under normal circumstances. Now, with everything that’s going on, and the need for more soldiers, I could see it getting worse. Pretty soon we’ll have sixteen year olds fighting alongside us.”

  Serrano agreed. “Yeah, I could see that, too.” Taking a swig from his bottle of water, he put the cap back on and set it aside. Looking out into the darkness, he added, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Day 3

  Glancing at Corporal Snyder, Chang shook his head. “I still feel like there was another way to handle that.”

  Snyder shrugged. “With all due respect, Doc, I disagree.”

  Chang stared at him in response, his face showing disapproval.

  “Hey,” Snyder said, “they came at us armed and looking for a fight. They fired the first shot. They kept shooting until it was over. If they’d stopped at any point, we would have stopped. Their pride is the reason things went that way.”

  “I guess…” Andrew replied, turning to look out the window.

  “Look, Doc, our job is to keep you and Doctor Bowman safe, alright? We didn’t go looking for a fight, not even when we first got there. We pounded on the door, then announced our arrival. One of those bastards shot White. We didn’t pursue him, because that wasn’t the mission.” He shrugged again. “Shit, if they would have retreated, we would’ve let ‘em go. But they didn’t. That’s on them.”

  Leaning his head back against the rigid, thinly padded headrest, Andrew looked at the roof of the Humvee. The loss of human life was something he never grew used to, no matter how many times he’d been exposed to it, and for those men to allow their pride to lead them to their deaths was beyond senseless.

  He wondered for the umpteenth time whether he should have been involved when the Marines checked for survivors, but again refused to second guess their effort. Besides, when he’d look at the what remained of the vehicles that had mounted an assault on the home they’d been in, he’d seen the damage the .50 caliber machine guns were capable of inflicting. Survival chances were minimal, so the Marines’ quick assessment of the situation was very likely to have been accurate.

  After a few moments, he looked towards the open window on his left. The surrounding area was similar to most of what they’d passed over the last two days: abandoned cars dotted the highways, some wrecked and mangled, some burned to a crisp, others in near pristine condition save the thick layer of dirt that coated their surfaces. Homes and businesses were dark and quiet, their occupants either long gone or deceased, possibly still inside the structure. So far, with the lone exception of the dirt road they’d take to reach the home they’d spent the night in, every road had at least one dead body somewhere along its length. Most of the previously busier highways had clusters of the dead, mangled and torn from the violence that had been set upon them.

  How many Americans had died?

  A hundred million?

  Two?

  More?

  What about worldwide?

  Chang closed his eyes and prayed that a large majority of people were able to find safety, even if that meant simply hiding and waiting for the worst to pass. The infected were intense, their fury unbridled and overwhelming, but when it came to survival, they were unable to beat the odds. The damage done to their brains by the virus took away their ability to comprehend even the most basic human needs for survival. They didn’t eat, they didn’t hydrate, and they didn’t rest. No matter how powerful the virus made them when the infection first took over, that power eventually began to fade as the caloric requirements associated with the intense, near-constant physical exertion began to wear down
the body. The average person consumed enough food to sustain 30-45 minutes of intense activity before they needed to stop. With the infected, the intensity of their rage was far greater than that of even the most strenuous workouts, and they simply didn’t stop.

  What started as hyper-anaerobic activity for the infected quickly became ketosis as the body burned away fat. For some of the infected, that period could last for several hours, while for others it came and went quickly.

  Eventually, the infected entered the catabolysis phase, where their bodies began to burn away muscle and tissue, not to survive, as sometimes happens to people facing starvation, but to fuel their aggression. At this point, they effectively entered a death spiral, where their continued aggression required more and more calories, which required burning more muscle and tissue.

  Once that phase began, their time quickly grew short, in part because their bodies were effectively consuming themselves, and in part because as they grew weaker, they became targets for the infected around them, who’d shown no compunction about turning on each other.

  The recent cause for concern, howere, were the reports that some of the infected had begun eating the flesh of their victims. If that behavior became common, everything would change. Waiting the virus out (something he couldn’t fathom doing anyway) was no longer an option.

  They needed to get to Oklahoma City.

  They needed Doctor Reed and the young girl to get there safely as well.

  And they needed to find a cure before it was too late.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Oklahoma City Protective Zone, Oklahoma

  Day 3

  Standing on the first landing of the steps in front of the Capitol building, Jeremiah wiped a few forced tears from his cheek as he looked out at the crowd in front of him. Like the day prior and the day prior to that, the number had swelled yet again, with around a hundred and fifty new people standing in and around the crowd.

  It was working. People needed a sense of community, and he was providing that. He was not only providing them with the community services they longed for - childcare, sports activities, educational opportunities, crafts seminars, etc. - he was also giving them something to do. Both those who provided the services and those who utilized them now had something to fill their time, as opposed to waking up, standing in line for meal distribution, and sitting around until the next meal or until bedtime came around.

  Smiling widely, he spread his arms out towards the crowd. “My good people, as we finish here today, I want to once again thank you for joining me. For those new to our group, thank you for joining us. We are happy you are here, and we are eager to share our time with you.

  “Let us know how we can help you. Don’t be afraid to ask, and don’t be shy. We are here for you.

  “Romans Chapter Twelve, Verse Four tells us, ‘For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function.’

  “That truth guides us, for my weaknesses may be your strengths, and your weaknesses may be the strengths of your neighbor.

  “Lean on one another.

  “Carry one another.

  “Help one another.”

  Jeremiah paused, then put a hand over his heart.

  “Love one another.”

  He watched as the crowd nodded in agreement.

  Smiling again, he looked out at the crowd and said, “I’m going to ask you all to do something for me, and for those of you who are newcomers, or who are simply here to ‘check things out,’ it is fine if you don’t feel comfortable participating, though I believe you will feel better if you do.

  “Now, please, reach out and take the hand of the person standing next to you.”

  He waited for a moment and watched as the people in the crowd began to follow his instruction. Some of the people looked uncomfortable doing so, but followed along any way. Looking over his shoulder, he motioned for the others to join him. Cynthia and Judtih came forward and took his hands, followed by Evan, Donald, Tim, Jeff, and Sister Margaret.

  Holding hands with the two women, he watched and waited until each person had taken someone’s hand. Even the newcomers and first-timers joined in.

  “Now,” he began smiling widely, “please, look to each person whose hand you’re holding and repeat after me.

  “We are stronger together.

  “We are better together.

  “My life is better with you in it.”

  He watched and waited as the crowd did as he’d asked, further strengthening the sense of community he’d built. It was a beautiful thing to watch as it grew.

  Okay, Jeremiah, let’s finish up.

  Time to sprinkle in some fear to strengthen the need for community. The fact that he had some actual to point at was an added bonus.

  “Thank you,” he said, releasing the hands of the two women and stepping forward. “That felt special, did it not?”

  The crowd responded enthusiastically, smiling, nodding, and eventually clapping. The roar of applause grew louder as more people joined in, until it was thunderous. Jeremiah smiled as he looked out at them, knowing that, although the cheers weren’t necessarily for him (they were for the sense of community the people felt), they were for something he created.

  Even better.

  Bringing his hand up, he waited until the crowd quieted before he spoke again. Frowning, he nodded slightly, and looked down for a moment. “Okay,” he began in a grave voice. “As wonderful as that was, we do need to discuss something not so pleasant.”

  Motioning with his hand, he waited as Donald, Jeff, and Sister Margaret ushered forward a couple with a young, teenage girl in tow.

  “Unfortunately, my good people, I am again here, asking you to pray for those in need. Mister and Missus Simpson, along with their daughter Beth, are looking for their son Cody, who went missing late yesterday afternoon.”

  Gasps and cries went up in the crowd.

  “Again?” someone cried.

  “How can this keep happening?”

  “This is terrible!”

  “That poor family....”

  “What are we going to do?” someone asked.

  ‘Perfect,’ Jeremiah thought.

  Holding up his hand once more, he said, “I heard someone ask, ‘what are we going to do?’” He looked at everyone for a long moment, then nodded firmly. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. First, we’re going to pray. Then, we’re going to strengthen our watch teams and increase the number of patrols. I’m assuming more people will volunteer for that.”

  Countless voices responded affirmatively and enthusiastically.

  “Good. We’re also going to help the Simpson family keep their faith. We will pray with them, support them, and help them in every way possible until we BRING CODY BACK.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “Finally, we’re going to have to do one other thing,” he began, letting the crowd quiet as they yearned to hear what he was about to say.

  Us against the world.

  “I feel that the safest thing we can do for ourselves and our families is to stay close to one another. We love and respect one another. We care for one another. Unfortunately, someone out there doesn’t feel the same compassion that we do.

  “We can count on each other.

  “We are in this together.

  “We need to stay close. We need to ensure that when we are outside of our residences, we are amongst the people here,” he said, gesturing to the crowd with his hand. “People we can trust,” he finished, with a nod.

  He knew better than to explicitly say that those who weren’t part of the ‘family’ couldn’t be trusted. That would be too much. But by simply implanting the idea that the ones they could trust were part of this group, he could just let it grow on its own.

  His words were the seed.

  Fear was the fertilizer.

  Looking into Evan’s eyes, Judith smiled. Evan smiled back at her as they began to repeat Jeremiah’s words.
>
  “We are stronger together.

  “We are better together.

  “My life is better with you in it.”

  Evan looked at her for what seemed like an eternity as her small hand squeezed his larger one. Unable to help himself, he swallowed heavily as he felt his heart pound in his chest. She was just so...beautiful.

  “Thank you,” he heard Jeremiah say to the crowd through the speakers. Releasing Judith’s hand, he let his eyes hold hers a few seconds longer before he finally looked away.

  ‘You can’t, Evan,’ he said to himself, as he turned to look out at the crowd with their leader.

  ‘Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes,’ he thought to himself, using scripture to give him the strength he needed in moments such as these.

  No matter how he felt, no matter how Judith felt, this was their life now. Jeremiah was a man of God, and not only had he sworn to serve him, but he’d also sworn to forgo the other temptations in life.

  After the ‘teaching’ ended, he smiled at the people around him as he moved about, helping the others put away the tables and chairs they used to hand out information packets and Bibles, but he found himself unable to shake the sadness he felt in his heart. Multiple times he found himself looking over at where Judith stood with Cynthia and Sister Margaret talking to some of the women from the crowd, and twice Judith’s eyes met his. She smiled briefly, then looked away, returning her focus to those around her.

  It was okay.

  This was how it had to be.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Sayre, Oklahoma

  Day 3

  ‘This is it,’ Steve Sommer thought, feeling satisfied as he looked at the bridge.

  Setting up a well-camouflaged ‘funnel’ that drove motorists into a choke point was a difficult task. The skilled eye would easily spot the trap, and it was a virtual certainty that the men with the girl and the doctor were highly skilled.