Since then, he’d remained compliant, knowing that eventually the opportunity to escape would come, and when it did, he’d take it. He’d find his way to his family’s empty home in Northern California, where he’d spend the rest of his days alone. Wendy had been his everything, and the world had taken her from him.
Shifting the jugs in his hands, trying to find a way to relieve the tension in his shoulders, he kept his head down and continued putting one foot in front of the other.
He’d be the perfect worker.
The opportunity would come.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Setting her coffee down, Serafina looked out across the yard. The sun was still making its way above the tops of the mountains, its light on the massive trees that surrounded their property casting long shadows behind them. They had a full day of work ahead of them, but first they needed to discuss the revelation about Isabella and decide the best course of action for the family.
The implications of the girl being immune to the virus were potentially huge. Was she alone? What was the immunity rate? Of those immune, how many were still alive in the face of unending waves of violence? Did the government know there were people who were immune? If they did, what was being done about it? Were they working on a cure?
Her mind raced through these questions over and over, revisiting each of them in turn as she tried to reason out likely answers. It was unlikely that Isabella was the only person who was immune. Beyond that, the answers she came up with were pure speculation at best.
Finding the immunity rate and knowing how many were still alive required more information than she had access to. The sheer number of people on the planet required her to believe that even with an immunity rate of one tenth of one percent, that left somewhere around seven and a half MILLION people who were immune.
The problems associated with determining the number remaining were numerous. If they’d been attacked, had they survived the attack? If they survived, did others wait to find out if they were immune, or simply kill them out of precaution?
What about the violence from those who weren’t infected? How many of the immune had been killed by them?
What about those who were immune and didn’t know they were immune? If they’d been kept safe, determining whether or not any of them were immune would require the person to have bodily fluids of the infected passed to them - without a cure being available. Who would sign up for that?
As for whether or not the government knew of any people with immunity, she had to believe the answer to that was ‘ No .’ It seemed VERY likely that if they’d found any, they would have included that in the Emergency Broadcast message. Right now, the thing people needed more than anything was hope.
With all of that, where did it leave their family? She and Daniel had done everything to get the family where they were, to be somewhere safe until things blew over. The presence of the man at the store, whom she assumed had friends that shared his same view of the world, created a problem they certainly weren’t looking for, but it was one they’d have to deal with. The initial line of defense they’d established, the barbed and razor wire they’d strung, was put up for the primary purpose of keeping the infected out, or at least slow them enough for the family to deal with. It would likely be insufficient for keeping out men (and maybe women) who were of sound mind, capable of working through challenges with their minds.
So here they were, preparing for an inevitable attack by a likely superior force, and in their midst was a girl who might hold the cure to save mankind.
The whole thing seemed ridiculous.
Who were they to take on this challenge? Sure, Daniel had been in the military, but he wasn’t special forces or even ground combat trained, and he was the first to admit it. He’d been trained in the use of guns, but only at the basic level in the military. His real proficiency had come, much like hers, from training at the gun range, and the range was dramatically different from actual combat.
Actual killing.
And her? Aside from shooting their handgun at the range until she became accurate (actually, in all fairness, extremely accurate), she had no combat training whatsoever. The skills she’d developed with a knife were developed years ago out of boredom. She’d watched a number of Chinese movies and admired the skills the actors possessed, so she’d gone out, purchased her own knife, and trained herself, watching the movie clips over and over while she learned the moves, cutting herself a few times in the process.
Absolutely none of this made them capable of fending off a group of heavily armed men.
The screen door closed behind her, breaking her train of thought. She felt Daniel kiss the top of her head before he slid into the seat next to her, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I think they’re calming down some.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. The shock and fear of it all was a bit much for the other three, but they’re coming around. I told them, either way, she’s staying with us. If she’s infectious, it’s already too late for us. If not, great. Either way, she needs help, and we’ll protect her, just like we’ve been protecting Paul.”
“I agree…” Serafina looked out into the yard again, her brain still working on the numerous thoughts she’d managed to lay out in her mind.
“What’s on your mind?”
Serafina sat back in her chair, took a sip of coffee, and laid out all the things she’d been mulling over, ending with her unbiased assessment of their combat readiness.
“How will we possibly defend ourselves against a group of armed men?”
Daniel nodded, looking at the wooden planks of the porch as he thought about the challenge. “First of all,” he began, taking a drink from his cup, “give us some credit. You and the girls fought off the man that broke into our house. You escaped from the man in the store. I survived coming face to face with the infected twice, a group of gangsters once, and goddamn car chase with a bunch of fucking redneck racists.
“Then, we survived a shoot out - on the fucking freeway.” He looked over at her and nodded his head towards her. “We may not have superior firepower, but we have heart and a survival instinct that won’t quit.
“Now, as for the ‘how’ part, I won’t sugarcoat it. It won’t be easy. But I think if we put our minds towards setting up some good traps and further solidify our defenses, we can make it pretty tough for them. It might be enough to make them reconsider.”
“Might be.” She repeated, staring at him.
“That’s all we’ve got right now.”
Nodding slowly, Serafina stood up from her chair and looked down at him. “Well, then I guess we’d better get to work.”
After a quick breakfast of oatmeal with dried fruit, Serafina started designing a number of particularly cruel traps that were intended to maim anyone who chose to trespass on their property.
The first consisted of a flat board, about one foot long and six inches wide, with a three foot wooden pole secured through the middle. The other end of the pole had nails hammered through it so that about two to three inches of the nail’s sharp end protruded from its surface. With Ashley’s and Brenna’s help, the three of them made four of the devices. They positioned them in the yard, directly aligned with windows or doors, with the flat part closest to the fence, mostly buried within a small ditch. They covered the pole and nails with old branches, leaves, and pine needles. Kneeling down in the dirt, Serafina used her hand to verify that the devices would work as intended: when someone stepped on the flat part, the pole would be swung upwards, towards the person. She’d chosen a three foot length because she wanted the nails to embed themselves in the place it would hurt a man the most: in his crotch.
While she and the girls positioned the first series of traps, Daniel and Paul worked on a manual tripwire trap. First they found places towards the top part of the hill where they could position a pair of logs in a way that, if not held in place, they would roll down the hill towards the tr
ench and the fence. They wedged small pieces of wood under the logs to hold them in place, then ran fishing line between small spikes they put in the ground about eight feet from the fence, keeping the line about six inches off of the ground. The other end was wrapped around each wedge before being tied off around the last wedge under the log.
At the base of the fence, they hammered thick branches into the ground at a 30-degree angle, then sharpened the ends that pointed away from the fence. The trap was designed so that when someone’s foot tripped the wire, it would pull the wedges out of the way, sending the log racing down the hill towards the person and anyone with him. The person(s) would have very little time to decide whether to try to jump over the rapidly descending log, which would be difficult, or try to get through the fence. Of course, if they stepped towards the fence, they’d step into the trench with the barbed spikes, which would hold them in place until the log crushed them. If they somehow managed to avoid the log, the newly embedded poles would keep the log from damaging the fence.
The family broke for a quick lunch just after twelve. They ate quickly, with minimal chit chat, consuming peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, dried fruit, and water.
Setting the dishes aside for later, Serafina and the girls got to work on the next round of traps while Daniel headed across the street to meet with Douglas and Janice.
Paul began digging narrow holes randomly throughout the yard. Each hole was approximately eight inches across and a foot straight down, which he dug using the fence post shovel. He covered each with the same chicken wire they’d used to cover the trenches, then carefully placed random bits of brush over it to obscure the hole.
While he worked on the holes, Serafina had Ashley and Brenna work on what she called ‘psychological’ traps, tripwires connected to wiring that disappeared into the trees. They weren’t connected to anything that could hurt a person, but when each was tripped, it made a whoosh! sound that would make the person tense up in anticipation of a strike. The girls laid out seven of these traps in random locations outside of the fence.
While the girls worked on the psychological traps outside the fence, Serafina worked on some inside the fence, adding a psychological element to the hole traps Paul had created. She took more fishing line and tied one end to the chicken wire, then tied the other end to a stake that was tapped into the ground and covered with leaves. When the person stepped into the hole, not only would they twist or break their ankle, but they would also see the tripwire kick up something in a pile of brush five feet away and assume something was coming towards their head.
‘This has gotta work,’ she thought, tying an end of the fishing line to a stake in the ground.
Across the street, Daniel walked slowly up the path to the neighbors’ house, taking his time until he saw Douglas on the front porch, watching him as he approached. The man nodded slightly.
“Afternoon.” He said between puffs from his pipe.
“Afternoon Douglas. Mind if I join ya?”
“Please.”
Daniel opened the door to the porch and made his way over to the same chair he’d sat in last time.
Douglas nodded towards the coffee table, where a pitcher of tea sat.
“Tea?”
Daniel glanced down at the table and saw two glasses other than Douglas’ half-filled glass. “Were you expecting me?”
The old man grinned and took a puff from his pipe. “Eventually. Your wife came back in a hurry yesterday, so I’m thinking she ran into trouble. Now I see you all adding to your defenses - good stuff, I might add - so I’m thinking the trouble’s following her. Sound about right?”
Nodding, he filled a glass with the dark liquid, then topped off Douglas’ glass. “Actually, yes.”
“And you’re here to either warn me, or to ask me for help.”
Daniel sipped slowly from the glass of tea. It was as delicious as he remembered. He’d had a whole explanation planned out, and the old man had gotten straight to the point, throwing him off a bit. “Mostly I’m here to warn you,” he began.
“But you think you’ll need help.”
Giving up all pretext, Daniel agreed. “Yes. I do.”
Douglas looked at him for several long seconds, then looked back out through the screen, towards their cabin.
“That’s good. You will.” He took yet another puff, then exhaled, blowing a large white plume into the air.
“Sheriff’s got close to twenty men now. Figure he’ll leave three or four behind to mind the lodge and the prisoners.”
“Prisoners?”
Douglas looked at his out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously? That’s the first time I’ve heard you ask a dumb question. Of course they have prisoners. You think they’re the type that clean up after themselves?”
“Well, no…”
Douglas nodded. “They’ve got prisoners, probably some women forced into, well, taking care of the men, to put it tactfully.
“But that’s not the point right now. Like I said, they’ll leave three or four behind, so you can plan on about fifteen or sixteen coming, once they find you.” He leaned forward and tapped the bowl of his pipe into the glass ashtray that sat on the table, then picked up his glass of tea. Looking at Daniel over the top of his glass, he asked, “You think you can fight off fifteen armed men?”
Daniel shrugged. “We’re sure as hell gonna try, but hey, that’s why I’m here.”
Douglas drank his tea, again staring out towards the Alvarado residence.
Daniel took a deep breath. ‘Alright, here goes nothing,’ he thought, as he prepared to try to convince the man to help them. He’d come up with several good reasons, including how it was likely that the men would keep trying to take more and more until they came for what Douglas and Janice had, along with the fact that they had a girl that was immune staying with them. “Listen, I believe - ”
“We’ll help you.” Douglas said, simply, taking a drink from his glass.
“You will?”
“Of course we will.” Janice’s voice came from behind him. The woman’s footsteps were so light, he hadn’t heard her approach.
Daniel smiled, holding up his glass. “Thank you, Janice. Great tea, too.”
The woman smiled, showing the lines on her face. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I think it would be impossible not to.”
Janice smiled. “I’ve gotten to know Paul and Brenna over the last couple of days, and honestly, they’re good kids, just like you and Serafina, and your other daughter.”
“Thank you, and thank you for helping them learn to use a bow.”
“My pleasure.”
Looking at each of them in turn, Daniel began, “Look, there’s something you should know. There’s a girl that came back with Serafina yesterday. Her name’s Isabella. She appears to be immune.”
Douglas turned to him, as did Janice. The man spoke first. “What makes you say that?”
“According to her, her father went crazy and attacked and killed her mom down in the Village area. He also grabbed her, scraping away the skin on her forearm in multiple places.”
“Okay…”
“This was five days ago.”
The older man nodded, leaning back in his chair. “If that’s true, that would certainly mean that she’s immune.”
Daniel shrugged. “I can’t see her making it up. And, she’s got the wounds on her arm to show for it.”
Douglas looked at his wife briefly, then reached forward and set his glass on the table. Leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, he turned his head and fixed his eyes on Daniel’s.
“Well, then I guess we better make sure she survives whatever the Sheriff and his men try.”
Over the next hour, Daniel and the couple discussed how they would help when the likely attack came. Daniel wished he could be sure they wouldn’t be put in harm’s way, since they’d only just met and the couple had no dog in the fight per se, but the family needed their help. They were h
opelessly outmanned and outgunned, and anything that could help tilt the odds even slightly towards an even matchup was welcome.
When they finished, Daniel thanked the two of them again before heading back to the family’s cabin, where Serafina and the others were still working hard. When she saw him coming, she set down her roll of fishing line and walked out to meet him.
“How’d it go?”
“Pretty well. They agreed to help us.”
Serafina smiled in relief. “That’s great. Was it difficult to convince them?”
Her husband shook his head. “Actually, no, not at all.” Looking back towards Douglas and Janice’s house, he smiled slightly, adding, “I think they’re just good people at heart who need a reason to get involved. They decided to help even before they knew about Isabella. On top of everything else, Janice really likes Brenna and Paul.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” She cocked her head, thinking about his statement. “They are good kids, after all.”
Daniel shrugged. “For the most part, yeah.” He looked around the yard, watching as the teenagers worked diligently at setting up defenses. “So, what do you need me to do?”
Looking towards the back of the property, Serafina’s eyes took on a sinister look. Moving closer to Daniel, she smiled. “What if we do this?” She described what she was thinking.
Listening to his wife’s plan, Daniel smiled, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s wicked,” he said, grinning. “I like it.”
Serafina shrugged. “I’m just trying to make it a bit more challenging for anyone trying to invade our space.”
“That’ll help.”
“Alright. So, you’ll take care of it?”
“I’m on it.” Daniel gave her a salute, knowing that it would irritate the hell out of her.
“Fucker. Get to work.”
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 68
