Surviving Rage | Book 5

by Arellano, J. D.

  On the other hand, a bridge served as a natural choke point without any modifications. Even better, on this particular bridge, the westbound lanes were separated from the eastbound ones by a twenty foot gap, eliminating their use as a possible escape route.

  ‘Now for the plan,’ he thought, as he stepped off of the motorcycle and moved a short ways up the small hill a few hundred yards west of the bridge. Looking down at it, he nodded as he began to envision the attack.

  There were a couple of ways to go about it, but two things were certain: one, that he still didn’t know what he was facing, and two, he needed somewhere close by to pre-stage the men and equipment he’d use for the assault.

  Looking off to the far side of the river, he saw a large, two-story, sturdy-looking structure surrounded by fencing. Bringing up the pair of binoculars he’d acquired from a sporting goods store in the nearby town of Sayre, he focused his gaze on the structure. The building itself gave little indication as to its purpose, but the tower that looked over it gave him an idea of what it was.

  Grinning, he pulled the binoculars away from his eyes, found the highway exit close to the structure using his naked eye, then brought the lenses up once more.

  NORTH FORK CORRECTIONAL CENTER

  “Perfect,” he said to himself. He quickly stuffed the binoculars back into his backpack and put his arms through the straps as he descended the hill, back to where he’d parked his motorcycle. Straddling it, he gunned the engine, then took off in a cloud of dust as the tires sent dirt and small rocks flying.

  Three minutes later he was stopped on the road in front of the correctional center, looking at the open areas beyond the twenty-foot high, razor wire-topped fences that surrounded it. Bodies were strewn all throughout the enclosed area, some in prisoner uniforms, others in guard uniforms.

  A Sheriff’s truck was wedged in the partially destroyed outbound gate, it’s front end covered with the mangled remains of the heavy-duty fencing. Apparently the driver hadn’t been able to wait for the gate to open and instead attempted to ram his way through. Near the open driver’s door, a figure in a tan and dark brown uniform was on the ground, unmoving. Flies buzzed around the corpse, humming in the dry Oklahoma summer air.

  “Damn,” Sommer said, shaking his head. While it wouldn’t be impossible to move the Sheriff’s truck from the gate, would the gate still work? Thanks to the angled spikes that ensured one way travel into the gate at the entrance, that route wasn’t an option either.

  On top of those two issues, he was also uncertain of who or what remained inside the facility.

  What if the place was crawling with the infected?

  What if there were still law enforcement personnel inside?

  ‘Not a good option after all,’ he thought, turning away. His eyes settled on a different structure, back near the exit ramp he’d used.

  All-Star Service Center

  Long, wide, and single story, the place looked large enough for his purposes. According to the signs, the service center contained restrooms, showers, sleeping areas, and a large convenience store, which would provide (hopefully) food and water.

  In front of the building, sixteen gas pumps were aligned under a massive canopy, but only seven of them had abandoned cars or trucks sitting in front of them. Another three vehicles were parked in front of the store.

  Easy enough to clear.

  Grabbing his pump-action shotgun, AR-15, and pistol, he began clearing the cars. Each was either empty or contained deceased occupants in or near them, making the effort quick and relatively easy.

  Moving inside, he thoroughly checked the store for signs of survivors or the infected, looking behind counters, in the various closets, restrooms, showers, and sleeping areas (which were tiny, five- by eight-foot rooms with nothing other than a mattress on a wooden frame, covered with dingy, crusty sheets and a lumpy pillow in a yellowish-brown pillowcase), before moving to the doors that opened to backside of the now-dark refrigerators used by customers.

  Opening the first one, which was behind not only the soda and water section but also the dairy and prepackaged food section, nearly crippled him as the rancid smell of rotting food flowed out from within. Blinking back tears, he threw the door closed and returned to the main section of the store, where he grabbed a t-shirt off one of the shelves and used it to cover his mouth and nose. Returning to the space once more, he entered and quickly cleared the space, realizing, as he did, that a decomposing body had been adding to the rancid smell inside the enclosed area. Fighting through the stench, he quickly moved to the shelving that held the bottle water, sodas, and other drinks. Reaching past the shelved items he forced the doors open one by one and pushed out all the drinks he could want or need out onto the floor of the store before closing them once more.

  He had just finished clearing the other defunct refrigerated space, which luckily had been reserved only for 12-packs of beer or soda, when he felt the phone in his pocket buzz once more.

  Satisfied that the place was clear, he picked up one of the bottles of water from the floor and made his way over to the cashier’s counter, where he settled onto the stool behind it. Uncapping the water, he took a drink, then set the bottle on the counter and took the phone out of his pocket.

  As expected, it was another text message.

  83 00 33 93 30 62 31 72 94 74 94 92 50 83 41 53 94 30 80 43 51 61 32 30 93 73 10 32 63 10 42 42 22 74 00 53 91 52 53 22 10 52 40 10 93 21 41 93 61 74 61 82 33 62 53 42 82 52 33 41 30 81 41 61 32 20 31 20 92 21 53 30 81 20 42 10 82 42 51 62 22 63 82 61 81 74 82 62 50 94 94 90 83 91 61 41 71 43 81 81 71 41 32 23 60 40 81 51 51 63 62 31 60 74 91 94 51 91 30 60 72 21 81 53 43 62 33 00 23 22 73 94 23 22 71 72 52 41 94 61 20 10 51 20 21 10 10 80 93 22 93 21 73

  95

  “Alright,” he said to himself in the empty store. Grabbing his backpack, he withdrew the items he needed to decode the message and got to work. Ten minutes later, he leaned back and stared down at the message.

  “Okay. 3 vehicles, one Special Forces guy, two Marines, and six Army soldiers,” he said aloud, his voice echoing slightly inside the empty store. Staring down at the paper, he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. He had a good idea who the SPECFOR guy was. It was most likely the man he’d fought with inside the downed aircraft in San Francisco. The plane he’d shot down.

  ‘If it wasn’t for that Navy SEAL (what was his name, Serrano?), this whole mission wouldn’t even be necessary.’

  ‘Except that Graham and Trent hadn’t found and killed the girl,’ he thought, correcting himself.

  Okay, maybe he’d still be here, but still, that fucker had taken everything Sommer had thrown at him and still beat him.

  This time Sommer wouldn’t let him have the chance to get that close.

  Grabbing a piece of paper, he picked up his pen and thought about what he needed to write, ignoring the rumbling that had started in his stomach. He took another sip of water, then wrote down the message he intended to send, shortened it, then encoded it before entering it into the phone’s text message app:

  71 42 90 10 20 31 51 63 22 71 71 42 53 62 30 61 53 43 61 93 71 00 52 23 53 83 74 71 20 33 10 10 41 51 63 42 50 93 21 51 42 30 41 43 51 42 21 61 00 10 81 21 60 81 83 62 33 71 82 40 22 10 94 42 94 81 20 63 41 71 20 00 51 42 94 62 40 42 52 51 83 63 60 91 61 90 62 10 73 51 53 83 71 71 00 00 62 94 62 63 33 61 10 71 42 41 30 92 32 33 40 82 30 00 51 62 81 91 41

  74

  Tired and hungry, he had cheated in applying the encryption, using some of the same ‘filler’ text combinations that had been used in the text he’d received.

  It wasn’t much of an error, but it would end up being enough.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  San Francisco Protective Zone, California

  Day 3

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Serafina asked, stopping in the middle of the living room floor to look at Daniel.

  Walking from the hallway into the living room, Daniel brought his hands up. “What? I - I mean, it’s got the belt clip,
so, you know, I figured…”

  “We talked about this before. It looks RIDICULOUS.”

  “Yeah, come on, Dad,” Brenna said, setting her glass of water down on the dining table and shaking her head. She was still covered in sweat from shooting baskets on the portable basket hoop they’d set up on the street.

  “First of all, use a coaster, and second of all, what if Paul calls?” Daniel asked the two of them.

  “Really?” Serafina asked. “None of us have heard a cell phone ring in weeks. Do you really think we wouldn’t hear it?”

  “I guess that’s true,” Daniel said, shrugging.

  “At least he’s not wearing socks with his sandals,” Ashley said, laughing.

  “Hey! That was one time, and my feet were cold!”

  “Then why were you wearing sandals?” Serafina asked, smiling.

  “Whatever,” Daniel replied, shaking his head. Removing the phone from his belt, he pulled it out of its holster and set the holster on the shelf. Holding the phone up, he asked, “Okay?”

  “Better.” Serafina said, nodding. Looking around at the home’s interior, she moved to the big, cream-colored microfiber-covered sofa and put her hand on the back of it. “You know, this house is really, really nice, but I do miss home.”

  Nodding, Daniel walked over to where she stood and put his arm around her. “I know, sweetheart. I miss our cats, too.” Their three cats, Ursula, Colossus, and Tommy, had been left with Douglas and Janice, their neighbors in Big Bear when they were staying at the cabin they owned. Douglas had built a huge ‘cattery’ to provide the cats with plenty of outdoor space while protecting them from the coyotes, hawks, owls, and other predatory creatures in the area, and while it was nice to know that the cats were in good hands, Daniel knew the family missed the cats’ company.

  Heck, the cats were family.

  “When do you think we’ll go back?” Serafina asked.

  Still holding her in his arms, Daniel looked over her shoulder and out at the ocean as he spoke. “Well, we’ve got the opportunity to get the vaccine first, thanks to General Armstead.” The General had made the promise to the family, Paul, and Logan, after they’d safely brought Isabella to the Protective Zone. “So I think we should stay here until we can be vaccinated.”

  “I agree.”

  “Isabella, Logan, and the others should be in Oklahoma City by the end of the week. I’m assuming Doctor Reed and the other doctors can figure it out. By all accounts, they’re brilliant people. Even so, I’d guess it’d take them at least a week, maybe two.

  From what General Armstead told me, once they’ve identified a vaccine, they’ll make a few hundred doses there while training the local doctors in how to develop more, then one of them will come here while the other two split up. One will go to Mount Weather, where the President is, then to Boston, while the other will hit Indianapolis, then head down to the CDC. Of course, even after we’re vaccinated, we’ll have to wait until the troops that will escort us have been vaccinated as well. I’ll ask for as many doses as possible to be brought with us when we go back to Big Bear on our way home. Those people deserve it.”

  “Agreed, but you still haven’t answered my original question: when do you think we’ll go back?”

  Daniel sighed. “Conservatively, I’d say we’d be here at least another month, maybe a month and a half.”

  Serafina sighed as well. After a moment, she broke away from him and went out onto the deck at the front of the house, where she placed her forearms on the railing as she stared out at the ocean.

  Daniel followed his wife out to the deck and joined her at the railing, mimicking her position. Knowing that sometimes a husband just needs to remain silent, he did so.

  After a moment, she spoke. “I know it’s selfish, but I just...want to be done with all of this.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “I mean, we’re really, really fortunate to all be here, safe from all of the dangers out there, and I know plenty of other families can’t say the same, so I shouldn’t even want anything else. I should just be happy, right?”

  Choosing his words carefully, Daniel said, “It’s natural to want things to go back to normal. Everyone does. Just because we’ve done better than others, that doesn’t mean we can’t wish for a sense of normalcy ever again.”

  “I know,” Serafina replied, looking down at the cliffs below. “I just feel...guilty. Like, why us? Why did we get so lucky?”

  Removing his arms from the railing, Daniel stood up straight and turned to her. “Lucky? Do I have to remind you that you and Isabella were taken hostage? Shit, my shoulder still hurts from where that bastard stuck that big ass knife into me, and it took me days to get rid of the double vision I had after fucking Reilley hit me in the head. We’ve had to do things that most families could never imagine doing, and we did by staying together and counting on one another.”

  “I know,” Serafina replied, nodding.

  Daniel put his arm around her once more. “I’m not trying to argue, sweetheart, I’m just saying we can’t attribute all of our survival to luck. We fought to survive.”

  Serafina nodded once more, then leaned her head on Daniel’s shoulder.

  Daniel felt the phone buzz in his pocket.

  Withdrawing it, he stared down at the screen.

  83 00 33 93 30 62 31 72 94 74 94 92 50 83 41 53 94 30 80 43 51 61 32 30 93 73 10 32 63 10 42 42 22 74 00 53 91 52 53 22 10 52 40 10 93 21 41 93 61 74 61 82 33 62 53 42 82 52 33 41 30 81 41 61 32 20 31 20 92 21 53 30 81 20 42 10 82 42 51 62 22 63 82 61 81 74 82 62 50 94 94 90 83 91 61 41 71 43 81 81 71 41 32 23 60 40 81 51 51 63 62 31 60 74 91 94 51 91 30 60 72 21 81 53 43 62 33 00 23 22 73 94 23 22 71 72 52 41 94 61 20 10 51 20 21 10 10 80 93 22 93 21 73

  95

  “Alright, what the hell?” he said, shaking his head.

  “What is it?”

  “Another one of those garbled messages,” he replied. “Whoever that Willey guy is, he must have messed something up.”

  Serafina looked over at the phone, then shook her head. “Have you tried calling Paul yet?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No. They’re on a mission, and we don’t know when or if they’ll need to maintain silence for tactical reasons. If I call, it could distract him or the others. Better to wait.”

  “I see.”

  Sighing, Daniel stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Maybe I’ll go to the op center tomorrow and talk to the guy.”

  “Okay.”

  The two of them stood there in silence for a few minutes before Daniel took the phone out again. Looking at the screen, he frowned.

  “Another garbled message?” Serafina asked.

  “No,” Daniel replied. “I’m just wondering if it actually is garbled.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, like, look at the three messages,” he said, scrolling up to the first one he’d received. “Notice how at the end, there’s always a hard return, followed by two digits?”

  “Oh shit, yeah,” Serafina replied, nodding.

  “Yeah....” Daniel continued to stare at the phone for a while, then turned away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Inside. I wanna get some paper and write this down. See if it makes any sense.”

  Twenty minutes later, Daniel had four pieces of paper on the dining table in front of him. Each one contained one of the messages he’d received, transcribed exactly as it had shown on the screen of the phone.

  ‘Alright, what is this?’ he asked himself, as he looked for similarities between the messages. After a few minutes, he shook his head. Aside from the two digits that ended each message, there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the messages.

  Sitting on the table near the glass of iced tea he was drinking, the phone buzzed again.

  “Seriously?”

  71 42 90 10 20 31 51 63 22 71 71 42 53 62 30 61 53 43 61 93 71 00 52 23 53 83 74 71 20 33 10 10 41 51 63 42 50 93 21 51 42 30 41 43 51 42 21 61 00 10 81 21 60 81 83 62 33 71 8
2 40 22 10 94 42 94 81 20 63 41 71 20 00 51 42 94 62 40 42 52 51 83 63 60 91 61 90 62 10 73 51 53 83 71 71 00 00 62 94 62 63 33 61 10 71 42 41 30 92 32 33 40 82 30 00 51 62 81 91 41

  74

  Again, the two trailing digits.

  He quickly but carefully transcribed the latest message onto a piece of paper, then set the phone aside. He stared at the piece of paper for a while, but quickly grew frustrated.

  Sitting back in his chair, he looked at the ceiling. Who was he kidding? There was nothing there.

  “Fifty-one, sixty-two, Seventy-one,” he muttered, repeating one of the sequences he’d read in the last message.

  Sighing, he sat forward and reached for the other pieces of paper so that he could set them aside in preparation for dinner.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, pausing in his efforts.

  “Honey, can you give me a hand in here?” Serafina asked from the kitchen.

  “Hold on,” he replied, bringing each paper closer and scanning them quickly.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said, ‘hold on,’” he answered, before quickly adding, “please.” Looking across each sheet again, he asked himself, “Is that something?”

  None of the second digits went above the number four.

  Zeroes and Ones, if used as first digits, were ONLY followed by zeroes.

  Picking up the cell phone, he opened the app for making calls.

  Staring at the screen, he swallowed heavily.

  “Holy shit.”

  1

  2

  3

  ABC

  DEF

  4

  5

  6