The three of them laughed at this. Carol’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Brandon.
Hope had replaced fear in their lives.
“Oh and at the end, we may ask for a recorded testimonial and we may use your name and general details of the treatment, what kind of cancer, stage, etcetera, for some of our advertising.”
Brandon snorted, “Doc, if you cure me of this, you can say whatever you want about me.”
Doctor Roberts smiled again, chuckling, “understand, but no worries. We’ll be considerate.” With that, he placed his palms flat on the desk and leaned forward. “OK, shall we get started with the paperwork?”
That was seven months ago.
The treatment had worked as advertised, and two months ago Brandon had been pronounced one hundred percent cancer-free. He and Carol had thrown a party in their condo to celebrate, inviting many of their friends and coworkers.
None of the those invited had known about Brandon’s diagnosis, and it probably would have stayed that way, had Carol not had that third glass of champagne (to be honest, that third glass was inevitable). Feeling happy, relieved, and relaxed, Carol felt tears forming in her eyes as she talked to her friends Joy and Michelle. They both noticed immediately and asked if everything was OK. That was all it took. Once those two knew, eventually they each came over and hugged Brandon. The flow of emotions created more confusion, which ultimately required an explanation.
After that, the party became a true celebration. The alcohol flowed, toasts were made, food was consumed, and hugs were frequent. Friends of Brandon and Carol seemed more affectionate than usual, perhaps because they’d been confronted with the very real possibility of someone close to them dying.
For Brandon and Carol, that night was a blur, and the only thing that happened after the party finished was each of them taking turns in the bathroom, throwing up everything they’d consumed during the party.
Overall, though, intimacy had greatly increased for the two of them. The love they felt for each other prior to the diagnosis paled in comparison to what they felt now. Lovemaking was frequent and passionate, and expressions of their love for one another were never in short supply. They’d even discussed the possibility of moving up their wedding date, but ultimately decided too many things would require reorganization and/or re-coordination.
Things had been going well for the most part, until Brandon came down with that horrible flu about a week ago. A day later, Carol felt the symptoms as well. Together they froze, sweated, ate crackers, and felt as if they were crapping their insides out (thank God for the second bathroom in their condo).
And yet, this morning Brandon had woken up feeling so much better it seemed as if the previous week had been nothing more than a bad dream. Looking over at his fiancée, he saw her there, shivering under the covers, and that idea was quickly squashed.
Watching her, Brandon hated seeing her in pain, especially when there seemed to be nothing he could do. Feeling helpless (he knew nothing he’d tried during the last week had provided any relief), he decided the least he could do was run out and get more crackers, water, diet lemon-lime soda, and things to make soup for dinner.
Grabbing the keys to his Subaru Forester, he headed out. Two steps outside, he turned, unlocked the door and went in to find his sunglasses. The brightness of the sun seemed overbearing after being cooped up in the bedroom all week.
With sunglasses on, he made his way downstairs, got into his SUV, and drove to the Vons a few blocks away. As he entered the store, he instinctively took off his sunglasses and had to come to a complete stop. Closing his eyes tightly, he wondered why the hell the lighting in the store was so bright. He tried opening even one eye and couldn’t get more than part way before giving up.
“Are you ok, sir?”
Brandon gave up and put his sunglasses on. ‘Much better’ he thought. Looking towards the sound of the voice, he saw a dark haired, acne stricken teenager standing there.
“I….” he lost his train of thought. What was he going to say?
“Sir?”
“Too bright.” He managed.
“Our apologies, Sir. At least you have your sunglasses. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Brandon stared at him for a full five seconds before responding by shaking his head.
“OK. Have a good day!” The kid walked away, leaving Brandon standing there, just inside the automatic doors. People walked around him as they entered, muttering under their breath as they passed. Realizing he’d been blocking the entrance, he stepped aside. Why was he here again? He saw the handheld baskets and grabbed one. That felt like the right thing to do.
‘Okay, what do I need?’ He asked, as he walked slowly towards the aisles of food. ‘Ahh, crackers!’ He set off towards the aisles that contained the packaged foods, unaware that several people were staring at the strange man who had just entered the store.
Taking much longer than it should have, he managed to find the crackers, which he put in his basket. Finding the drinks aisle, he added a 12-pack of lemon-lime soda to the basket and reached for a 36 pack of bottled water before realizing he should have grabbed a cart. Sighing, he carefully slid it forward on the shelf, then got one hand under it and lifted it up onto his shoulder. Realizing it would be too difficult to grab the items to make soup, he backtracked and found the aisle with the canned soup. Setting the basket down, he gently placed cans of minestrone, tomato bisque, chicken noodle, and chicken and rice into the basket, all while balancing the pack of water on his shoulder, unaware that his efforts were gathering attention. Satisfied with his haul, he began to make his way to the checkout area.
Wanting to avoid interacting with people because of his challenges in communicating (which he was sure was only a temporary thing), he decided to utilize the self checkout lanes instead. Scanning his items, realized canned soup was a much better choice than buying the ingredients and having to look them up.
After loading his items into his car, he considered heading home, but realized that the gas tank was near empty. There was a gas station near his place, but being close to the beach, the prices were much higher than elsewhere. He decided to go to the nearby Costco, where the prices were much cheaper, to fill up.
Fortunately, traffic was light and he arrived at Costco in less than 5 minutes. The line for gas, however, was long. Wanting fresh air, he used the lever in the car to lower the window. Immediately he was hit with a dense wave of fumes, which made him wince. He quickly raised the window and turned on the air conditioning instead. Sitting there, he realized that throughout all of his driving, he hadn’t turned on the radio. This was strange in the sense that his mind had been fully occupied throughout all of it. What had he been thinking about? He had no idea, but he was getting frustrated with feeling like his brain was a pile of mush.
Soon it was his turn, and as he pulled up to his pump, he saw a big, gray Jeep at the pump across from him. A Wrangler Rubicon, it stood high off the ground on off road tires and suspension. A winch on the front, six bulb light bar above the windshield, large fenders, a roof rack, and mounted external gas cans completed the vehicle’s rugged nature. Mud splatters were everywhere, an indication the vehicle wasn’t just for show.
Brandon admired the vehicle as he placed the nozzle into his gas tank receptacle. He’d long wanted a Jeep, but had always tried to take the more conservative approach. Better gas mileage, lower insurance costs, less maintenance, whatever. He’d always made every major financial decision by favoring the safest route. After what he’d been through, maybe it was time to buy something his heart wanted.
Emboldened, he decided to find out more about owning a Jeep. The vehicle’s owner, a man in running gear, had pulled the gas hose around to the far side of the vehicle, so he was only a few feet away. Brandon considered his words carefully before engaging in conversation with the man.
“Excuse me.”
The man turned to look back at him. “Hey, how ya doing?”
&nb
sp; “OK, thanks. Where did you get your Jeep?”
“Up in LA. Much cheaper buying up there.”
“It’s really awesome.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you like having it?”
“Hell yeah. I always wanted one, and finally the time was right. I frickin’ love this thing.”
“Awesome. Do you do much off-roading? How does it handle?”
“Fairly frequently. I try to get out once a month, if my work schedule isn’t too busy. As far as how it handles, I’m the one that feels more challenged than the vehicle does. I’ve literally never felt like the Jeep couldn’t handle anything I threw at it. This sucker’s a beast.”
“Really cool. I’m thinking of buying one.”
“Cool. That Subaru looks new, though.”
“Yeah, screw it. I’ll trade this thing in.”
“Alright. Well, hey, there’s a Jeep group that goes out together for fun. When you get one, look us up. SoCal Jeep Group.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Alright man, I gotta go. Take it easy.”
“Thanks, you too.”
As the Jeep pulled away, Brandon went back to his car and got in the driver’s seat, taking off his sunglasses and setting them in the center console above the vehicle’s touchscreen control console. After nearly a minute, he realized that he’d forgotten to check the gas. Without thinking, stepped out of the vehicle towards the pump.
Blinding pain enveloped him. The brightness of the day, even in the shadow of the gas pump canopy. He dropped to his knees. People at nearby pumps looked over at the sudden movement.
His head pounded. His heart raced. His muscles clenched. He felt a burning sensation in his throat. A cough erupted from his throat, followed by another. Loud, hacking coughs that wracked his entire body. His eyes stayed clenched shut, the lids trying to keep out the light. Filled with pain, he struggled to find the strength to stand.
“Is he OK?”
“What’s happening?”
“Sir?”
Voices around him sounded like muffled rumblings in the distance. His head hurt so bad. He wished he’d stayed in. Was Carol OK?
A person approached, casting a shadow over him. Suddenly, the light was gone. Looking up, he saw an elderly lady standing near him, her eyes filled with concern. When she saw him look back at her, she recoiled in fear.
She stepped back.
Sunlight shone directly onto him, piercing his eyes.
An inhuman scream erupted from him, loud and powerful. People all around the gas pumps were watching now. Drivers still in their cars peered out of their open windows in curiosity, still not grasping the danger at hand.
His hand snapped out, grabbing the elderly woman’s ankle. Yanking her toward him, she was effectively pulled off of her feet in one motion. Her head smacked the curb in a sickening thud, killing her instantly. Blood pooled under her, glistening in the light.
“Dude, what the fuck?!” A large, muscle bound man in an Ed Hardy t-shirt stepped towards him, filled with anger.
The thing that looked back at the man saw nothing other than a source of confrontation. Rising, it stepped forward, rage coursing through its veins. Any remnant of Brandon Elliot was gone. All that remained was an animal focused on killing.
Confident in the muscles he’d built through hours in the gym and the high-quality steroids he’d invested in, the man stepped forward, throwing a punch with his right hand that solidly connected with Brandon’s jaw, breaking it. The force of the impact ran up the man’s arm, indicating the successful nature of his blow.
The creature never hesitated. As the fist struck the left side of its face, it lashed out with its right hand, grasping and pulling as its fingers came in contact with the man’s throat. Although Brandon Elliot hadn’t let his nails grow much, the force with which the creature struck and pulled at the man’s throat was enough to pull away the first few layers of skin on the man’s throat and collapse the man’s windpipe.
Collapsing forward in disbelief, the man gasped for breath. Unwilling to lose this fight, the man did the only thing he could think of, and the worst thing he could possibly do: he lunged at the creature.
Snarling, the thing that had been Brandon wrapped his arms around the man as it utilized the man’s momentum and rolled to its left. The back of the man’s head struck the Subaru’s bumper, snapping his head forward and stunning him. The creature’s fists pounded his face, over and over. Bones broke, both in the man’s face and on the thing’s hand, but it never slowed. Again and again it struck him, over and over, until the bridge of the man’s nose collapsed into his brain, killing him. Still the creature pounded its broken hand into the man’s face.
People in the carport watched the scene in horror, unable to process the two deaths that had happened in less than a minute and a half.
Someone screamed.
The creature looked up at the crowd around it. The seconds stretched on as the creature and the men and women around it absorbed each other’s presence.
For the men and women, they saw a man, bloodied and broken, but unfazed, staring at them with a feral look in his eyes.
For the creature, it saw objects of irritation. Other creatures threatening its existence, wanting to stop it from its natural tendencies.
And its natural tendency was to kill.
Rising up, it stepped forward.
The crowd around it stepped back.
Wheezing, it leaned forward, falling to one knee and pulling in deep breaths of air.
Seeing the creature in what seemed like a vulnerable position, the crowd involuntarily relaxed.
At that moment, the creature rose, twisting its head towards the crowd, spitting a reddish-black liquid over the group. The fluid splashed over them, coating their faces, necks, and torsos.
In a flash, the creature leapt forward, tackling a woman and driving her back onto the pavement. Screaming, she fell underneath its weight, her back and shoulders slamming into the pavement. She tried in vain to fend off the creature, but it was too fast, too powerful, too relentless. Its hands flew at her, alternating as fists that pummeled her, and claws that pulled at her arms and face. As the hands continued to hammer her face, she felt herself losing consciousness. Still it didn’t stop, striking her repeatedly until her eyes closed and her brain shut her off from the pain.
Pandemonium set in as people pointed, screamed, and tried to flee. Unfortunately for them, the Costco parking lot was not easy to traverse, and the area around the gas pumps was extremely congested. Cars honked as they tried to get away from the rabid being that had killed at least two, if not three, people right in front of them.
Rising from the woman’s limp body, covered in the blood of its victims and the reddish-black liquid it had spewn, the thing that had once been Brandon Elliot searched for prey. Seeing a businessman inside his car, yelling at the people in the cars in front of him to move, it rushed the car. It flung itself against the car door, trying to gain access. Pushing at the door and accomplishing nothing, it quickly grew frustrated and resorted to banging on the windows with its fists. Car safety glass is not meant to break easily, and this car’s windows were no exception, but safety engineers could not have anticipated the unmitigated fury that this thing would unleash on the window, careless of the damage it did to itself. Fingers and knuckles on both hands broke as it pounded the glass over and over until it gave way, crumbling into the vehicle. The man screamed as he was pulled from the vehicle, a high pitched keening that made everyone stop and stare. The man’s seatbelt held, and halfway out of the vehicle,the creature lost its grip and fell back onto the pavement. Seizing the opportunity, the man pulled himself back into the car, undid his seatbelt, and moved to the passenger side of the vehicle. The thing rose, snarling as it stared at the source of its frustration. It stepped forward, moving back toward the open window.
A massive Ford 350 truck slammed into the creature, crushing it as it drove over it. The truck driver re
versed, backing up to see the damage he had done. The creature laid on the ground, its arms and legs limp and broken, pointing in unnatural directions. Blood surrounded the thing, pooling rapidly as it flowed out of it. Its head rose, looking at the truck, tried to move, and collapsed, the last bit of fight fading as its life left its body.
Relieved, the truck driver slumped in his seat. His wife would never believe what he had seen or done.
Inside the massive Costco warehouse, a woman collapsed to one knee, coughing uncontrollably as she held her head.
CHAPTER FOUR
Daniel and Serafina slept late the next morning, not getting out of bed until after nine-thirty. After brushing his teeth, Daniel made his way to the kitchen for coffee, checking his phone as he did so. He had two texts, both from Ashley. ‘The first was sent about 30 minutes prior, asking if it was ok for their mom to drop them off around 1 pm. The second was just a ‘hello?’, intended to get his attention since he hadn’t answered.
Sure. Everything ok?
Yeah, mom’s boyfriend is feeling better, so he they want to leave early for their cruise.
K, no problem. See you then.
K. Thanks.
Daniel made coffee, then headed to the bedroom, where he gave Serafina her cup and told her about the plan for the girls to be dropped off early.
Serafina sipped her coffee, savoring the flavor. She set her cup on the night stand before sitting on the bed. Pulling on her socks, she looked up at him. “Alright, sounds good. Probably better if they’re not around their mom after she spends time with her boyfriend. He could be contagious.”
Daniel agreed. “Good point. Definitely better this way. Hey, I’ll get breakfast this morning.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, how about avocado toast with poached eggs?”
“Sounds yummy.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
“Cool, I’m going to check out the yard, see how the plants look after all that rain. Maybe I’ll let the cats out for a bit, too.”
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 4
