Stealth and deception were not among the traits of the infected.
At least not yet. Who knew how/if the infected would change over time.
Halfway up the stairs to the fifth floor, Serrano reached out suddenly and grabbed Reed’s pack, causing him to freeze, his right foot in mid-air, hovering above the step in front of him. Hearing the slightest change in Reed’s movements, the others stopped as well, looking back down towards the team leader. Serrano pointed toward his ear, then back down towards the stairs below them. They stayed there, waiting for some indication that what Serrano had heard was a threat, but after what seemed like an eternity, Serrano shook his head and motioned for them to move on.
When they reached the fifth floor, the scene was different from that of the lower levels. Light filtered in from open windows and doors, bathing the hallway in a gray light. On the floor in front of them, a thin trail of blood droplets led towards a hallway junction, where a discarded backpack rested on its side near the wall. Papers moved along the floor, disturbed by the wind that came in through the open windows, making a soft rustling sound. Skee swung right, checking the stairwell before moving out into the hallway. He led the team forward, following the trail of blood towards the junction, stopping at the wall near the intersection to peer around the corner, making sure the way was clear before guiding them down the hallway to the left. According to the sign on the wall that listed the numbers of the rooms in the hallway, Doctor Roberts's office was just ahead, past the teacher’s lounge.
As they walked down the dimly lit hallway, a feeling of dread came over Reed. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place it. They were using all the caution they could, but something seemed wrong.
While it was widely agreed that the infected were incapable of creating traps or setting ambushes, it certainly felt like they were walking into one.
The door to the lounge stood open, grey light filtering in through the windows. Approaching it slowly, Skee hugged the wall , leaning against tightly until he was against the doorframe. He swung around, bringing his rifle to bear, ready to engage any threat that might be present. Seeing none, he lowered it, stepping into the room, looking around while the team waited. He emerged seconds later, nodding to the team.
Serrano made a motion for them to enter the room, so they filed into it quietly, taking in their surroundings. The medium-sized space was filled with couches, tables, and chairs. The wall along the hallway was covered by a large cork board, from which hung flyers, announcements, and schedules. Along the wall to the left was a sink, microwave and refrigerator, and on the other a wall mounted TV hung, dark, quiet, and covered in a layer of dust. Windows covered the fourth wall, all of which hung open, letting in light along with the heavy, ash-filled air that blanketed Los Angeles.
Serrano quietly closed the door behind them, then pulled down his balaclava. Keeping his voice low, he instructed J.J. to check the refrigerator for water and for Skee to check the cupboards for dried foods. J.J. recoiled immediately upon opening the fridge, overwhelmed by the smell of rotting food. He recovered quickly, sliding his rifle aside and reaching into the fridge with both arms and scooping up all the water bottles there were. As he moved toward the table with his haul, Reed closed the door to the refrigerator, saving them from enduring the rancid stench any longer. Skee came over with multiple boxes of crackers, granola bars, chips, and pretzels, setting the prizes on another table.
Looking at the ten bottles of water J.J. had gathered, Serrano pushed three each towards Reed and J.J., leaving two apiece for himself and Skee. Each man drank a bottle immediately before using the other to add to the little that remained in their canteen.
Pouring only half of the third bottle into his canteen, Reed passed what was left to Skee. “Here.” He said quietly.
Skee shook his head. “You keep it, Doc. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
The big man grinned. “Yeah. Besides, we both know you’ll need it more than me during the long hump back to the extraction point.”
Reed shrugged, nodding. “You’re probably right. I don’t know how you guys do it.”
“Training, Doc. Lots of training.”
The team ate from the boxes of snacks, grateful to eat something other than protein bars. As Jonathan pushed chips into his mouth hungrily, he marveled at the amazing flavor of Doritos, wondering why he’d deprived himself of such a wonderful treat for the last ten years.
All the healthy eating he’d committed to, all the exercise he’d done, and here he was, wondering if he’d survive in this apocalyptic world.
At least he could enjoy Doritos.
When the men had eaten enough to quiet the hunger in the stomachs, Serrano reviewed the plan with them. They’d continue on to Doctor Roberts's office, where Skee and J.J. would clear it before letting Reed enter. If Roberts was there - which seemed more and more unlikely with each passing minute - they’d instruct him to gather what he needed and they’d double time it back to the extraction area. If not, J.J. would remain with Reed while he searched Roberts's office for pertinent information that would help his team find a cure to the deadly virus.
Skee would clear the rooms on the far side of the Doctor’s office, while Serrano would clear those closer. Once cleared, the two of them would maintain the perimeter while Reed gathered what he needed.
Reed would be allowed up to thirty minutes to copy files and bundle up any documents he needed. He’d brought a number of items to help him with the effort: two 30 megapixel digital cameras, each with 256 GB of storage, a power bank capable of charging laptops and anything smaller, a voice recorder in the event he needed to provide any additional detail that he’d seen or read, and an expandable file for papers he felt were absolutely required. His goal was to bring back as little paper as possible, understanding that it would add weight to his pack, so he showed J.J. how to use the camera, explaining that they’d essentially be using the devices as photocopiers. Reed would identify documents to copy first, passing them to the younger man for copying while continuing to evaluate other documents. Like everything they’d done so far, it’d be a team effort.
Skee quietly opened the door, checking the hallway before motioning for them to follow. When Serrano stepped out into the hallway, he again froze, grabbing Reed’s pack to make him freeze while looking towards the staircase. He waited for the sound he heard to repeat, but after a full two minutes of silence, he shook his head and gave Skee a hand gesture to move on.
They crept down the hallway silently, their boots slowly, softly treading on the tiled floor. From several feet away, they could tell that there had been an altercation at Doctor Roberts's office. Glass was piled on the floor near the door, along with broken pieces of wood. Across from the door, a pair of water bottles lay on the floor, still unopened. From all appearances, someone had fled into the room and closed the door, only to have it broken through. When he reached the edge of the doorframe, Skee motioned for the others to stop, brought his rifle to his shoulder, and stepped in front of the door, aiming the rifle inside. He leaned left and right, looking into the space. Shaking his head, he looked to his right, further down the hall, then backed carefully away from the door until he was abreast Serrano. Keeping his voice low, he spoke into his mic. “Looks like someone or something broke through the door, going through the window. There’s a bookcase against the door to try to block entry, but they broke through that as well. Can’t see shit with the bookcase there, though.”
Serrano shook his head. “Won’t be able to get in without forcing the bookcase aside, leaving us vulnerable.”
“We didn’t bring rappelling gear, so we can’t enter from above.” J.J. offered.
“Shit.” Serrano responded, putting his hands on his hips.
In other circumstances, they’d blow the door, stunning those within and giving them smoke cover on entry. That approach would bring every infected with a quarter mile down onto their position, though. “Stand by,” he told the group
, walking past them, approaching the door. Like Skee, he leaned left, then right, then stood on his toes to look at the gap between the door and the back of the bookcase. Glass was piled inside the small space, along with splinters of wood. He reached into the void and gently turned the lock. Extracting his arm, he grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, listening intently for any sound that might give him away. Hearing none, he pressed the door forward slowly, hearing the glass shards tinkle as they rubbed against each other, piling up as the door moved forward. When the door contacted the bookcase, he tested the weight to see how much force would be needed. It would be tough, but not impossible. Leaving the door in that position, he slowly released the knob and retreated to where the others were.
“Alright. Skee, you’ll push open the door from low, below the sight of the window. I’ll cover you from behind, looking for anything inside the room.”
“What about me, Chili?” J.J. asked.
“Same as always. Stay with Doc. We’ll be busy with this. You need to keep watch.”
“Roger.”
Serrano looked back at Skee. “Let’s do this.”
Orlosky led the way as they moved quietly to the door, then dropped down and set his hands against the door, squatting and leaning forward until he rested on the balls of his feet, pressing the soles of his boots against the tiled surface.
Turning his body sideways so that he was looking left, Serrano planted his feet shoulder width apart as he aimed his rifle into the opening. The hole that had been made in the bookcase was barely three feet wide, leaving little room to see, reducing his field of view, but he’d be looking for the first signs or sounds of anyone in the space. He’d give a quick warning, and if no verbal response was heard, he’d send rounds into the room.
He whispered to Orlosky. “On three, slow and steady. If you push too hard, the case could tumble, which would make a shitload of noise.”
“Got it, Chief.”
“One...two...three.”
Skee began pressing against the door, pushing it inward, slowing moving the bookcase back. Serrano remained on edge, ready to respond if needed. After he’d moved the door inward about a foot, Skee had to crabwalk forward, reset his feet and push again. The door and bookcase continued to move inward reluctantly, giving way to the big man’s significant strength. When there was enough space to comfortably slide through, Serrano reached out with the toe of his boot and tapped Orlosky in the butt, making him stop. Skee backed away from the door slowly, crab walking backwards until he was clear, as Serrano motioned for J.J. to enter and clear the space.
Skee moved into a kneeling position, putting his left forearm on his knee as his right hand rested on the ground, balancing him. Sweat poured from the man, making soft splatting sounds on the floor as it dropped from his head. It was clear he’d put forth an incredible amount of effort, exerting force that would challenge most powerlifters, repeating the motion a half dozen times as he forced the door and bookcase out of the way.
J.J. slid sideways into the space, holding his rifle high as he passed the door and bookcase, then fluidly bringing it into firing position once past. He moved the barrel of the gun left, then right as he cleared the space. As Serrano watched, he lowered the gun, flicked on the safety, then moved it behind his back. He gave Serrano a thumbs up, then moved over and pushed the bookcase the rest of the way to the side, kicking books aside with his boot.
Serrano looked over at Reed. “Go on.” As Jonathan slipped by, heading into the office, Serrano tapped Skee on the shoulder. “Come on. There’s probably a couch inside this fucker’s office.”
Skee slowly rose to his feet, taking a deep breath, then coughing. He hacked for several minutes, covering his mouth with his gloved hand. “I’m alright. Just got a bit winded because of this fuckin’ air.”
Serrano patted the man on his back as he slid sideways into the room, looked around the hallway, then followed, closing the door behind him. Much to his chagrin, the big guy was on the couch, still trying to catch his breath.
The window behind the desk stood open, the wind blowing the ashen air into the room. Books and broken pieces of the bookshelf were everywhere, having been thrown aside during what they assumed was the forced entry by an infected person.
Serrano made eye contact with JJ. “Roberts?”
J.J. looked out the window, motioning with his chin. “Dead.”
Stepping over to the other window, Serrano looked down at the access road behind the building. Five stories below the window, a pair of corpses lay broken on the ground. One was male, the other female. The pair had hit the ground hard, sustaining significant damage on impact, so it was hard to be certain that the man was Doctor Roberts, but at this point they were willing to make the assumption. There was nowhere else to look for him, and time was running out. It was nearly 3 p.m., and Reed would still need time to gather the information he needed.
JJ was moved away from the window and leaned against the far wall, watching Doctor Reed as he surveyed the surroundings. The doctor’s eyes settled on a post-it note that was sitting on the desk. In a childlike scrawl, it read:
Unvaccinated
Doctor Reed picked up the note, bringing it closer to his face, reading it again. “What the hell?”
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT
“Well, now, what do we have here?” The man’s voice sent a chill down Serafina’s spine as she realized she’d stupidly let her guard down at the discovery of the girl. Was the girl part of a trap, set by the man? It seemed unlikely, given the undeniable fear evident on the thin girl’s face.
The tan-faced blonde man pointed a gun at them as he stared at her, leering as his eyes traveled up and down her body. “You’re a looker. Maybe I’ll ask the Sheriff if I can keep you for myself.”
Serafina stood there, staring back at the man, her face devoid of emotion. “I don’t fucking think so.” She mentally kicked herself, wishing her gun was in her hands and not in its holster, where she’d never be able to reach it before being shot by the man.
“We’ll see.” The man replied, smiling. He looked at Brenna and Isabella, nodding. “We’ll find work for you girls.” He pointed to Brenna. “Probably either in the kitchen, or,” he pointed to Isabella, “as part of the cleaning crew.” He chuckled to himself. “That comes naturally to you Mexicans, don’t it?”
Serafina’s blood boiled as the man spoke down to them. “We’re not going anywhere with you,” she said, her eyes burning holes in the man.
The tan faced man cocked the hammer of his pistol, lifting it and pointing it at Serafina’s head. “We’ll just see about that.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Ashley went flat on the floor of the store, listening intently to the man’s words, trying to ascertain his intentions. When he made the crude comment about her stepmother, she knew she’d have to do something.
Watching the man through the reflection in the large convex mirror that was mounted high on the wall, she crawled forward, carefully planning out each movement, checking to make sure where she put her hands and knees were clear of things that would announce her presence.
She saw the man holding a gun, pointing at Serafina as he spoke to her in his nasal toned voice, and she knew she’d have to find some kind of weapon if she wanted to save her stepmother and sister, as well as the little girl they’d encountered. Looking around the shelves on the aisle she crawled down, her heart sank. Nothing but boxes of dried goods, along with bags of cookies, chips and crackers.
Unless….
“Now listen here. Ya’ll gonna walk slowly out the front door, you hear me? Don’t try anything funny. I ain’t in the mood to be fucked with, ya got that?” The man held the gun out in front of him, motioning for the women to circle to his right as he moved to his left, taking a position behind them so that he could usher them through the doorway.
Serafina thought about resisting, but knew Brenna would follow her lead. If Brenna did, the other girl might do so as well. There was no reason t
o put them in further danger if it could be avoided. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Brenna and Isabella and nodded. The girls faced were filled with fear, their eyes beginning to water as they moved as the man wanted, forming a single file line that pointed toward the door.
Glancing at the man once more, Serafina realized she needed to keep his undivided attention a few seconds longer. Stopping and turning to face him, she asked, “Look, why don’t you just let us go? We won’t take anything. We’ll just leave and you’ll never have to see us again.”
The man grinned widely, a toothy grin showing in the middle of his scraggly beard. “Maybe I want to see you again, darling. I kinda always had a thing for Asian girls.”
Seeing an opening, Serafina smiled at the man, biting her lip. “Well, maybe we can work something out?” Fighting back revulsion, she looked down, openly staring at his crotch for several long seconds before returning her eyes to meet his. “Right here?”
The bearded man looked at her skeptically, tilting his head to one side. “Yeah, but if I take you with me, we can ‘work something out’ as you say, every day.”
Serafina smiled sexily, narrowing her eyes as she gazed at him. She slowly walked forward, looking down at his crotch again. “Sure, we can do that, but maybe I could convince you to let the girls go.” Her eyes came up and locked onto his as she licked her lips.
The man’s grin widened even further. “What did you have in mind?”
She brought her hand up slowly, stroking the side of his face, feeling the coarse hair of his beard against her hand. She moved her hand down towards his chin as she spoke and in an instant grabbed it firmly -
- as Ashley slammed a six pound can of chili onto the back of his head, using both hands and all of the strength in her arms that she’d gained from years of lifting her fellow cheerleaders into the air.
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 58
