Pulling himself forward, he felt the thorns fight against releasing his skin from their grasp, pulling against it before giving way with seeming reluctance. Each puncture point throbbed as blood welled to the surface, creating a spotted pattern of stains on his uniform.
“Holy fuck.” He said aloud, rolling to his stomach before working his way to his feet. Looking back in the direction of the explosion, he saw a wall of fire reaching into the sky.
Nodding, he muttered, “Alright,” and began jogging slowly in the direction of the others.
His knee throbbing, Reed was struggling to keep going when he heard the explosion behind them. He stumbled slightly as the ground shook underneath them, then turned and joined Skee in looking back up Manning Avenue in the direction of the blast. Fire lit up the sky, reaching high into the late afternoon smoke filled haze. What looked like massive chunks of earth flew upward, along with dozens of bodies, before it all fell back to the earth, out of their sight.
Looking over at Skee, shock showing on his face, he asked, “Do you think he survived that?”
The man doubled over in pain, breathing hard. “Don’t know... Probably.... Let’s go... No time…” Next to him, the dog held its tail between its legs as it looked back and forth between the blaze behind them and the man she followed. She whined softly, laying down on the ground by his feet.
“Skee, let me look at your side.”
“No time!” He held up his watch. “Five o’clock. Gotta get back to the L.Z. Aircraft won’t wait.” The man started walking again, then sped up, breaking into a run.
Shaking his head, Reed began to walk forward, then quickened his pace, following the man.
They turned left on Rochester, pushing themselves hard as they struggled against fatigue, heat, and poor air quality. Reed knew his ability to run was fading fast, no matter how much adrenaline coursed through his veins. Orlosky was forced to slow his run more and more as Reed’s stamina faded, putting their required arrival time in jeopardy.
“I gotcha, Doc.” The big man reached over and took Reed’s pack again, throwing it under his left arm, holding it tight against what Reed assumed were broken ribs.
The decreased weight helped, allowing Reed to continue on, increasing his pace slightly as he tried to minimize deep breaths, concerned about the smoke filled air.
“Thanks.” He offered, his gaze focused on the ground in front of him.
“It’s alright. Gonna get you back, Doc. Get you to safety.”
Footsteps approached from behind them, startling them both. Looking back over his shoulder, Jonthan was unable to see the source of the footsteps. He tensed up in anticipation of an attack as Skee turned and lifted his rifle before they heard Serrano’s voice through their headsets.
“Coming up on your six.”
The man was covered in dirt, soot, and bits of shrubbery as he materialized out of the smoke. His uniform was ripped in multiple places, covered with round spots of blood, but he appeared mostly okay, running with greater vigor than either of them.
Serrano slowed to a walk as he reached them. “Drink while we walk, then we pick it up again. Gotta about two miles to go, and less than twenty-five minutes.”
Skee and Jonathan voiced their understanding before complying with his order. Knowing the dog needed water, Jonathan passed his canteen to Skee before cupping his hands together. He gave the dog two big handfuls of water before taking a drink himself. The moisture felt wonderful in his mouth and throat, but he was concerned about getting cramps, so he capped the container and stowed it back on his belt. When Serrano glanced at him, he nodded.
“Let’s go.” Serrano said, breaking into a steady run. They reached Thayer Avenue shortly after, jogging steadily towards their destination while continually keeping an eye out for danger. Their boots echoed in the smoke filled streets as they covered the half-mile distance to reach Santa Monica Boulevard, where they’d intervened in the ambush of the Jessop family. The family’s little blue car was still there, left on the side of the road. The van that had previously been driven by the gangsters was not.
Looking over at Skee, Reed wondered how much the man had left. His face was a grim white, his teeth clenched as he continued to push himself forward, still carrying the doctor’s pack. “Doing alright Skee?” He asked, staring at the man.
“Alright. Gonna get you back, Doc. Get you to safety.”
“Okay.”
Reaching Beverley Glen Boulevard, they turned right, their feet pounding the pavement as the worked down the final stretch, dodging between cars and trucks that had been abandoned along the street.
Serrano’s voice came over their headsets again, his breathing heavy as he spoke. “Just over a mile. We’ve got fifteen minutes, so we can’t let up now -- ”
A scream sounded behind them, followed by two, then four, then countless others.
They’d been spotted.
The group pushed hard, their breath coming in loud, raspy gasps as they ran. Each of them struggled against the sweat that ran into their eyes, causing them to blink repeatedly as they longed to remove their goggles so they could wipe it away. They knew better, though, understanding that the goggles were protecting their eyes from the soot and ash in the air. They tried to clear the black ash from their mouths and nostrils by spitting, but the air had left them without saliva. Their coughing was near constant as they had no choice but to take in large gulps of the near-toxic air as they pushed their bodies harder and harder, mindful of the screaming horde that approached from behind.
Finally, the tree-lined park came into view, refilling them with energy and hope. Pushing hard on the final block, they crashed through the trees onto the grass of the park. Reed fell to his knees involuntarily, hacking and coughing as he tried to catch his breath.
Looking over, he saw Skee in a sitting position against a short wall nearby. He was holding Jonathan’s pack on his lap, staring straight ahead. The dog laid dutifully on the ground near his legs, looking up at the man with sadness.
Sensing something was wrong, Reed forgot about his discomfort and rose to his feet on shaky legs. “Skee?”
Serrano heard the concern in Reed’s voice and released the branches of the tree he’d been pushing aside to look up the street and began walking towards them, his face showing the concern Reed felt.
The big man continued staring straight ahead as he responded to Jonathan. “It’s alright. Gonna get you back, Doc. Get you to safety.”
Jonathan dropped to a knee next to the man, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to look into his eyes. They were glazed over, staring with near emptiness. “Skee, what’s wrong?”
“...get you back, Doc. Get you to safety.”
With shaking hands, Jonathan reached forward and unbuttoned the man’s uniform shirt, pulling it open to look at his side. “Oh God…”
The undershirt had been torn open, revealing an eight-inch long wound that extended from the man’s lower ribcage to the left side of his pelvis. Inside the wound, a curved piece of red metal moved slightly as the man’s breathing grew more and more shallow. Skee’s shirt and first several inches of his trousers were completely soaked through with blood. Looking closer, Jonathan saw that the blood had also run down the inside of his left pant leg, reaching the top of his boot.
“Skee….”
“Get you to safety, Doc.” The big man looked over and met Jonathan’s gaze, holding it as his mouth opened in a grin, showing a mouth full of blood. He coughed slightly, causing it to spill down his beard. “Get…”
Jonathan put his hand out, stopping the man. “Shhh...take it easy, Skee.” How the hell had this man run nearly four miles with a wound like that? How the hell had he done it while carrying Jonathan’s pack for the last two?
“Doc…”
“Yes, Skee, I’m here.”
“I got you back.”
Fighting back tears, Jonathan nodded. “You did, Skee. Thank you. You did.”
“Doc?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, Skee.”
“Take care of the dog. She just needs someone to love her.”
“Okay, Skee, I will.” Jonathan blinked over and over, trying to get the tears out of his eyes so he could see clearly through the lense of the goggles. When he finally did, he realized the man was gone. The dog whimpered slightly, nudging the man’s leg with her nose before resting her jaw on his calf, closing her eyes.
Petty Officer First Class Charles Orlosky died in the grass of the park, with his two new friends at his side, friends who owed their lives to him.
Friends who would never forget him.
The sound of the inbound aircraft broke Jonathan out of his trance and reminded him of where they were and the danger still present. He heard Serrano’s voice behind him, a deep growl that sounded different from his normal voice.
“Get to the L.Z. Now.”
Rising to his feet, Jonatan looked at the team leader, trying to find the right words. The look on Serrano’s face made him pause momentarily, surprised by the man’s fierce look. Wetness showed in the man’s eyes, but he blinked repeatedly to avoid letting it escape. His jaw was set hard, a look of anger taking over his face.
Reed heard the screams of the infected again, closer this time. He estimated they’d be upon the two of them within minutes.
“Okay, let’s go.” He said, throwing his pack on, ready to sprint again.
Serrano shook his head, looking down and checking the magazine on his rifle to make sure it was full before slamming it back home. “No time. We both go there, the infected overtake us and the people on the bird.” He pointed towards the Landing Zone. “Go. This is my job.”
“Chili, we can make it - ”
“I said, Go GOD DAMMIT!” He turned his head towards Reed, keeping his weapon pointed towards the bushes. “My job was to bring you here so you could get what you need. I’ve done that, and my team has died because of it. You get to the plane, get back to your lab, and find a fucking cure.” He dropped into a kneeling position behind the small wall and brought his head down, looking through the sights of his M4. “It’s my time to get some fuckin’ payback. Now go!”
Seeing there was no way to change Serrano’s mind, Reed turned and jogged towards the landing zone, his mind reeling from the losses they’d suffered over the course of the day. The dog fell in behind him silently, following the only other person that had shown her kindness.
Jonathan could hear the rotors of the MV-22 beating the air as it approached, swinging around the park in a wide arc, looking for the best spot to touch down. He grabbed the flare they’d stuck in the grass when they’d landed and lit it, holding it high above his head.
As the aircraft descended, Jonathan looked back to where Skee and Serrano were. So much sacrifice.
Hearing the first infected plunge into the trees, Serrano exhaled, steadying himself. His heart pounded with adrenaline, filled with anticipation of action and by a deep, burning anger that he was struggling to keep in check.
‘You let them die, you piece of shit.’ He said to himself, feeling his emotions welling up inside of him.
‘You failed.’
His face hardened at the admission of failure.
Time for payback.
The first infected person burst through the trees and was met with a slug to the head, killing it instantly. The second one met the same fate, as did the third and forth.
A mass of infected plowed through the trees, screaming with rage as the branches whipped at their faces and bodies. A few tripped over the bodies of those Serrano had dropped with single shots, falling to the ground, sparing them from the rapid fire burst from his rifle. Metal tore through them, sending blood into the air in small puffs as small entry wounds led to large exit wounds. Eight more went down in rapid succession, falling over those who’d tripped.
More climbed over the first wave, only to meet the same fate, dropping like flies under Serrano’s lethal barrage. His barrel swung back and forth smoothly as he fired off quick, three round burst, hitting each one in the center mass of their chest. And still they came.
Knowing he was running low on ammo, he did a lightning-quick change out of his magazine, dropping the one from the rifle as his hand was already moving forward with the replacement from his cargo pocket.
The infected kept coming, but as the pile of bodies in front of Serrano grew, it became an obstacle. Some still climbed over, seeing only one way to get to the source of their anger, but others began to work their way around the pile, approaching from the left and right sides. Soon he was forced to move his rifle in greater and greater arcs in an effort to keep the infected at bay.
Sweat ran down his face in long streams, soaking his balaclava and his undershirt. His eyes, mind, and body moved like liquid as he sighted, identified, and fired over and over, taking out one after another.
Seeing a break in the mass, he pulled a grenade from his belt, tore the pin away, and threw it through the trees, onto the street beyond. Seconds later, an explosion rang out, resulting in more screams of rage as even more infected were instantly killed or mortally wounded.
But still they came.
His second magazine gave way to his third, and still there was no sign of an end to the crazed mass of people. He heard the aircraft lifting off and wondered when it had landed.
Suddenly the infected crashed through multiple spots in the line of trees. They streamed through in mass, covering the distance quickly as he was simply unable to move his rifle fast enough. More and more fell under his lethal fire, but it was clear they’d get to him within seconds.
He rose to his feet, dropping the rifle and pulling out his knife with his right hand. Close quarters fighting was his specialty, but he knew he’d lose this fight. He grabbed another grenade and left the pin in, holding it in his left hand as he assumed a fighting position, crouching slightly as he turned his body to present a smaller target.
His left fist flashed outward, catching the first infected on the chin, stunning it before his boot crashed into the creature’s sternum, causing it to double over. His knife hand flew outward, a blur of motion as it sliced open the thing’s throat. Spinning around, he buried the knife in the chest of another before kicking the creature away with his boot, withdrawing the knife and planting it into the lower stomach of yet a third. His thick muscles flexed as he yanked the knife upward, slicing through organs, muscles, and tissue.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw one dive towards him. Spinning around and sliding to the side, he brought the knife down as the creature’s torso came in range. The blade severed the neck muscles cleanly, severing the carotid artery in the process.
Arms grabbed at his legs, immobilizing him momentarily. He brought the knife down, burying it at the base of the thing’s skull, cutting through the spinal column. The thing fell to the ground limply.
Serrano was knocked sideways as one of the creatures collided with him. He held onto the knife bringing around to slash at the thing, but was unable to put the necessary force behind it to make it a quick kill. Slashing downward repeatedly, he knew he was lost. It was taking too long.
A second, third, fourth, and fifth crashed into him, arms, hands, and teeth lashing out at him.
Chief Petty Officer Christopher Serrano, leader of SEAL Team Eight and decorated war hero, fell under the rush of bodies, feeling the air being squeezed out of him by the massive weight atop him. As his vision went dark, he remembered the grenade.
“You Doctor Reed?” The young Marine asked, yelling to overcome the noise of the spinning rotors. He was standing on the back of the cargo ramp, which he’d lowered upon landing.
“Yeah.”
“I thought there were supposed to be six in total.”
“Me, too.”
Seeing the look on the Doctor’s face, the Marine knew better than to ask for details. Looking down, he added, “You have a dog.”
“Yes I do. It’s coming with me.” Reed stared at the young man, daring him to say otherw
ise.
“Shit. Well, I’ll have to figure out how to harness him in.”
“Her!” Reed said, correcting the Marine.
The man nodded in acknowledgement, looking back towards the park. In the distance, gunfire rattled in short bursts.
“Any chance we can help him?” Reed asked, stepping onto the loading ramp, holding the dog by the makeshift collar he’d fashioned for it with the balaclava he’d taken off.
“Can’t leave the aircraft, Sir.” Looking towards where Serrano was, he shook his head. “If we fire from the air, we’d probably hit him as well.”
Shaking his head, Reed climbed aboard, taking off his pack before falling into one of the bucket seats. He set the backpack on the seat next to him and leaned his head back. In the distance, he heard the gunfire stop.
As the aircraft lifted off, the young Marine kept the cargo ramp open, watching the melee below. The dog lunged forward, trotting slowly to the ramp, whimpering. She looked back at Jonathan, then looked down again.
Standing up, he walked back to where the dog was and grabbed her collar. Ready to pull her away, he decided to go with kindness instead. Dropping to one knee, he rubbed the dog’s fur. “I miss him, too, girl.” Feeling tears welling in his eyes, he added, “He was a good man.”
Below them, a loud bang sounded.
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Shelly laid on the bed, looking at the man’s bare ass as he pulled on his jeans. She longed to shove a hot fire poker between the man’s cheeks, pushing it until it came out his mouth, but that wasn’t an option.
Not if she wanted Grace to live.
When the man on the boat had destroyed her world in front of her, killing her husband Carl and son Michael, she’d wanted to die. To rush the man, forcing him to kill her. But Grace needed her. The girl grabbed her tightly burying her head in the space between Shelly’s shoulder and the seat back at the sound of the first gunshot, mumbling over and over, ‘Don’t like it, don’t like it, don’t like it…’ Sitting there, nearly catatonic at the sudden loss of the two most important men in her life, Shelly had been able to little more than stroke Grace’s hair as she stared at the blood that flowed down from the seats onto the floor of the boat, pooling by her feet. It seeped into the white fabric of her shoes, staining the fabric, but she didn’t care.
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 61
