Surviving Rage | Book 2

by Arellano, J. D.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  The two continued driving in silence for about fifteen minutes until the passenger leaned forward suddenly, peering towards a small building that stood off in the middle of a field on his side of the road.

  “I think I saw something.”

  “Yeah? You sure?” The driver asked, easing his foot’s pressure on the accelerator.

  Tilting his head to the side, the man looked towards the building. A shadow moved downward inside the structure, shrinking from view.

  “Yeah. Definitely.”

  Steve Sommer moved his foot from the gas to the brake and brought the muscle car to a stop on the side of the road.

  “Alright, let’s get it done.”

  Ten minutes later they were powering down the highway again, their clothes carrying new stains. It would be time to swap them out soon.

  “Good eye, Hank,” Steve said, holding his bottle of whiskey out towards the man.

  “Thanks.” Hank brought his bottle up and clinked it against the other man’s.

  Setting the bottle on the back floorboard again, Steve Sommer brought his right hand back up to grip the steering wheel so that he could bring his left to his mouth to take a puff from his cigarette.

  He took a long pull from the cigarette, held it for a while, then blew another cloud of smoke out the window again. Looking back towards the windshield, he noticed a small dark spot on the glove that gripped the steering wheel.

  Grabbing a rag from the center console, he wiped the blood away.

  Three hours and seven successful task completions later, the two men were tired, hungry, and thirsty when they spotted the crowded parking lot of a bar and grill ahead in the distance. At first glance, they assumed the cars had been abandoned there, reminders of a time before the world had gone mad, but as they drew closer, they saw movement inside the windows of the bar and grill.

  Steve Sommer slowed the car as they approached, leaning forward to get a better view of what was going on inside the establishment. The place had an old Western cowboy feel to it, with its faded wood exterior, and decor that included old cow skulls and horns, horseshoes, and tin stars.

  A long wooden porch ran along the front of the structure, and on it a large, fat man sat, relaxing in a chair with a rifle across his lap. If the man was positioned there as a guard, he was doing a lousy job, considering the fact that he was fast asleep.

  Directly in front of the porch were six motorcycles, lined up in a neat row. All of the motorcycles were Harley Davidsons, each one a Softail. Big, powerful engines dominated the bikes’ frames, which gleamed in the afternoon sun.

  Sommer applied minimal pressure to the gas pedal as he drove the Mustang into the parking lot, still looking through the windows of the place to see what they were dealing with.

  Inside he saw at least seven people, two of which were playing pool at a table near the window. Of the seven, three were women, including one that was working behind the bar. The other two were positioned close to the men they accompanied, their companion’s arm draped over their shoulders lazily.

  Glad they hadn’t been noticed, Sommer let the Mustang coast around the structure until they were out of view. He parked it along the side of the structure, then looked over at Hank and nodded. Exiting the vehicle, he paused, then said, “Jackets.”

  Each man reached in and grabbed a heavy jacket, which they slipped on before grabbing their guns and placing them behind their backs. They closed the doors to the car quietly before turning away from the vehicle.

  Their footsteps crunched on the dirt and gravel parking lot as they made their way to the front porch. Reaching its edge, Sommer stepped up onto it and walked over to where the fat man snoozed. Reaching down, he pulled the rifle off the man’s lap and held it up at his shoulder.

  Still the man slept, his snores coming through his open mouth noisily.

  Sommer kicked the chair hard, waking the man.

  “Hunh? What?” Startled out of his slumber, the man snapped forward, nearly falling out of his chair. Staring up at the muscular white man in front of him, his hands reflexively went to his lap, expecting the rifle to be there. Finding nothing, the man turned his head, looking for it. Seeing it at Sommer’s shoulder, his eyes widened.

  “Looking for this?” Sommer asked, tilting his head to the side to indicate the rifle.

  Stunned, the man could only nod, his fat jowls shaking slightly as he did so.

  “Here.” Sommer extended it towards him, keeping the barrel pointed at the sky.

  The man’s hands came out quickly and grabbed it from Sommer, pulling it away and to his own shoulder. Looking up at the tall, bald man sheepishly, he struggled to his feet as his massive stomach threatened to keep him down. Standing awkwardly, the man’s elbow bumped the window, gaining the attention of those inside. He was in the middle of pulling his shirt down to cover his belly when three men burst forth from inside, filing out onto the porch.

  “What the hell, Larry? You’re supposed to be standin’ watch!”

  “Sorry, Will,” the fat man replied, looking at Steve and Hank sideways, “they snuck up on me like a couple of cats.”

  The man named Will walked over, followed by the two other men. Will was big, taller than Sommer by at least three inches and heavier by at least twenty pounds. His two companions were equally large. All three wore biker jackets and jeans. Like Steve and Hank, their arms were covered in tattoos.

  ‘But not the right ones,’ Sommer thought, looking over the men.Though all three of them were bigger than him, he wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

  The man named Will tilted his chin upward as he regarded the two men in front of him.

  “What can I do for you fellas?”

  Sommer shrugged. “Kinda thirsty, a bit hungry. Whatcha got?”

  Will made a deep snorting sound as he worked up a loogie. He spat on the ground, barely two feet from where Sommer stood on the porch. “We got both. But it depends on what you’ve got to give in exchange.”

  Sommer shrugged again, intentionally looking disappointed. “All I got is my Ruger.”

  Will looked at his men, then back at Sommer. He drew his pistol and pointed it at Sommer’s chest. “Let’s see it.”

  Sommer nodded. “It’s behind my back. I’m going to reach for it slowly.”

  Will nodded in understanding. “Nice and slow. Larry, get your fat ass over here.”

  The fat man shuffled aside as Sommer slowly withdrew his gun from behind his back, aware of the look Hank was giving him. He spoke softly to his friend out of the side of his mouth as Larry crossed in front of him. “It’s alright.”

  Passing the gun, butt first, to Will, he asked, “will that get us a drink and maybe a bite to eat?”

  Will grinned. “Tell you what. This,” he held up the gun, “will get you something to drink. I’m guessing your friend there has a gun as well. THAT will get you a bit to eat.”

  Sommer nodded, then looked over at Hank, locking eyes with the man. “Go ahead.” When Hank hesitated, he flared his nostrils and repeated himself. “Go ahead!”

  Shaking his head, Hank passed his gun to Will.

  Smiling the biker nodded. “Alright! This will work!” He moved to the side, motioning for Steve and Hank to pass. “Come on in.”

  Sommer led Hank into the bar, his eyes scanning the surroundings quickly and efficiently as the other man continued.

  “I hate to do that to ya, but things have been crazy, you know?”

  “I know.” Sommer replied flatly as his eyes settled on the forearm of a short, thickly muscled man that sat at the bar. One of the tattoos on the man’s arm consisted of four letters: AYUK.

  Sommer grinned.

  This wouldn’t be a waste of time at all.

  Will and his men ushered them forward, moving them towards the bar. Looking over his shoulder, the man noticed Larry following them inside. Reaching out, he motioned for his companions to continue on without h
im as he turned to face the fat man.

  “Larry, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  The man’s face began to turn red as he looked away from Will’s stare. “I...I...I’m thirsty.”

  Softening his gaze, Will tilted his head slightly as he looked at Larry. “Larry, let’s be realistic, now. Do you think you deserve a beer? After you let those men sneak up on you?”

  “I…” He shook his head, pouting. “They snuck up on me!”

  Will jutted his thumb towards the two newcomers. “Should I ask them if they snuck up on you?”

  Larry huffed. “No…”

  “Alright, then. Back to the porch.”

  “Can I at least have a beer? I’m sooo thirsty,” the man whined.

  Will exhaled through his nose loudly. He looked at Larry for several long seconds as he considered the request. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll compromise. Wendy, pour half a beer for Larry.”

  The woman behind the bar nodded, moving over to the tap. “Okay.” She grabbed a glass, filled it halfway, unconcerned about the foam that built up, then pushed back the tap. She passed the glass to one of Will’s men, who passed it to Will.

  “Here you go. Make it count.” He said, passing the glass to Larry.

  “Okay,” Larry replied, accepting the glass.

  Will motioned with his finger. “Go on, now.”

  The fat man turned and shuffled outside, holding his half-filled glass tightly in his hands.

  Will turned away, facing Steve and Hank again. “Alright, let’s get you two sumin’ to drink. Wendy?”

  “Two beers, comin’ up.” The woman responded, reaching for glasses. Slightly older than Sommer, he estimated her to be in her early thirties, with pale skin, small breasts, and a small waist, which she showed off with a half top that left her midriff exposed. Her brown hair was long, flowing down the center of her back, and her face was decidedly average. On any normal day, in normal circumstances, a man would walk by her on the street and not give her a second glance. Now, faced with the end of times, her decent looks, combined with her tight stomach and small, round butt, made her highly desirable.

  “Here you go,” The woman said, sliding two beers across the counter towards Steve and Hank.

  Sommer smiled at the woman.

  “Thanks.”

  Turning to Will, he asked, “Actually, do you mind if I take a leak first? We been on the road for hours, and I need to drain the main vein.”

  Will paused, looking at Sommer for a second before responding, nodding as he did. “Sure, no problem.” He turned to the man on his left, whose dark eyes were watching Sommer under the brim of his hat. “Mason, escort -“ he hesitated. “What’s your name, stranger?”

  “Steve Sommer.”

  “Summer, like the season?”

  Sommer’s mind quickly calculated that correcting the man would be a mistake.

  “Exactly,” he said, smiling. He gestured to his friend. “This is Hank. Hank Williams, actually.”

  Will grinned. “Like the singer?”

  Hank nodded, bringing his beer to his lips. “Yeah. My pop worshipped the guy.”

  “Alright. Sounds like a good dude.” He turned back to Mason. “Escort Steve here to the head.”

  The big man nodded, then looked at Sommer. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay.” Sommer turned away from the bar and allowed his eyes to scan the upper walls on the far side of the bar. Once he located the sign for the restrooms, his eyes continued to move, taking in his surroundings, including the bar’s occupants as his feet moved him towards the men’s room. There were two other women, one brown skinned, one black, both medium sized and relatively attractive. Aside from the two of them there was the man with the AYUK tattoo and two others, both predominantly Caucasian but mixed with something else, and shorter and a bit muscular than the man who had caught his eye.

  Reaching the door, Sommer placed his hand on it and pushed it open. Stepping into the well lit space, he paused, holding the door for the man behind him.

  “Thanks,” the man growled, entering the room behind him.

  Sommer walked to the stall instead of the urinal, then hesitated. “Mind if I take off my jacket?”

  The other man looked at him skeptically. ”I thought you just needed to take a piss?”

  Sommer shrugged, feigning embarrassment. “I didn’t want everyone to know I gotta take a shit…” he replied, letting his voice trail off.

  The man chuckled. “Alright. I understand. That’s fine. Set it there, on the counter.” He motioned towards the small, Formica-covered counter by the single sink basin.

  “Thanks,” Sommer replied, nodding. Looking downward, he pulled his jacket off of his left arm slowly. In one smooth motion, he whipped the garment forward, looping it around the other man’s neck. He yanked forward and down, pulling the man’s neck and head towards him as he brought his knee forward, thrusting it into the man’s chin, snapping his head backwards, stunning him.

  The man felt his head spinning as Sommer plunged a knife into his heart, severing an aorta. Twisting the blade as he pulled it out, Sommer grinned as he watched the man’s lifeblood seep out of him. He fell to his knees as his strength faded. His mouth worked, trying to form words as his brain tried to compute the math associated with the intense pain that emanated from his chest.

  With nothing left in him, he fell forward, collapsing on the tiled floor as Sommer stepped backwards.

  Sommer waited as the last of the man’s life left him. When he saw evidence of the man’s bowels and bladder letting go, he quickly stepped forward, stripping the man of his bike jacket and hat. He donned both as the man’s fluids flowed out onto the floor of the bathroom.

  Folding his knife, he slid it back into his pocket, then reached down and took the man’s gun, sliding it into his waistband behind his back.

  Grabbing the man under his armpits, he pulled the man’s body sideways, then twisted around so that he could drag the man out through the door. Backing up, he pulled the man with him as he pushed the door open with his back, showing the biker jacket and ball cap to the group in the bar.

  “Dammit!” He growled lowly as he dragged the man.

  “What the fuck?” Will exclaimed, standing up from his barstool. “Mason, what the fuck happened?”

  Ignoring him, Sommer kept dragging Mason’s body, knocking aside chairs as he left a trail of blood behind them. Keeping his head pointed towards the floor, his eyes moved constantly as more and more of the room came into his field of vision. The man with the tattoo was to his left when he heard footsteps approaching.

  Perfect.

  When Will and the other man were even with him, he hesitated, stopping in his tracks as the pair stopped alongside him, looking down at their friend. Confusion spread across their faces before realization did.

  It was already too late.

  Dropping the body, Sommer pulled the knife from his pocket, flicked it open with his thumb, and plunged it into Will’s heart, leaving it there as he spun, extracting the gun from his back, pointing it at the other man and pulling the trigger. The gun crashed loudly in the space, booming as it sent a bullet through the man’s face as it shredded flesh and bone.

  Spinning on his heel, Sommer aimed the gun at the man standing at the far end of the pool table near the window, and pulled the trigger again. The bullet caught the man in the upper shoulder, knocking him backwards. As he stumbled, his partner drew his gun and pointed it at Sommer.

  A pool stick flashed into view, landing squarely on the man’s nose, breaking it, sending a flood of blood streaming forth from his face. His eyes fluttered as he stepped backward, trying to regain his senses. Before he could, the end of the pool stick collided with the center of his forehead, caving it inward. He collapsed to the ground as Sommer stepped forward. Raising the pistol, he shot the other man in the chest, blasting a hole through his ribs, lungs, and back. The man lurched forward in shock before collapsing weakly on the floor as blood flowed
from him, pooling around his body.

  Looking to his right, Sommer nodded at Hank.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Turning away from the two men dying on the floor, Sommer walked over to the black woman as Hank approached the Hispanic one. Sommer didn’t hesitate as he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet between the woman’s eyes. As the gun’s blast echoed through the space, Hank drove a knife into the Hispanic woman’s stomach, twisted it, then pulled it out, turning away, grinning as the woman cried out and clutched her stomach before falling to the floor.

  Sommer spun on his heel and strode over to the lone remaining man, the one with the “AYUK” tattoo. Stopping in front of him, Sommer looked down at the tattoo openingly, then back at the man.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding as he maintained eye contact.

  The other man smiled, extending his hand. “Randall.”

  Sommer took his hand, shaking it. “Steve. Good to meet you, brother.”

  “You, too, brother.”

  Looking towards the bartender, who stood there in stunned silence, her hands raised in surrender, Sommer asked, “Her?”

  Randal smirked. “She was with a black guy when we found her.”

  Sommer raised the gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the woman’s head. The back of her skull exploded outward, splattering the glass of the bar behind her with blood, bone, and brain. She crumpled the floor in a heap as silence settled in the open space of the bar.

  Sommer walked over to Will’s body, reached down and took the man’s gun from his belt. Tossing it to Hank, he nodded towards the porch.

  Hank disappeared through the door as Steve walked around behind the bar, stepping over the dead woman’s body. Pulling the beer tap, he poured three beers as the sound of gunfire came from outside. He put one beer in front of Randall, set another one in front of where he stood, then set a third in front of a space on the bar to his right.

  When Hank re-entered the bar, Sommer nodded towards the third beer.