One of the men, a large heavyset black man stepped forward from the right side, approaching him as he kept his hands on his belt. Confident that the men with him would provide backup, the man made no attempt to arm himself before approaching Serrano. Instead, he held a burning marijuana joint in between his thumb and forefinger.
He took a hit from the joint, then blew the smoke out in Serrano’s face. “Where you going, there, mister soldier?” The man asked, looking at him through the bloodshot eyes of a person who’d smoked a lot of weed. Weed that would slow down the man’s decision making and reaction time.
“Just passing through, trying to get out of the city,” Serrano replied, shrinking down a bit to look like less of the threat that he was.
The man nodded, grinning. “Yeah? Well, that’s probably a good idea.” He took another hit, then blew another cloud of smoke in Serrano’s face. Under normal circumstances, the action would be more than enough to earn a swift ass kicking, but Serrano was still gathering information, mentally calculating each man’s threat potential, ranking them in his head so that he knew ones to take out first. The man grinned, showing teeth that had been stained from smoking, as well as a handful of gold-plated ones. He looked at the rifle hanging off Serrano’s shoulder. “See, the thing is, if you’re gonna pass through here, you gotta pay a fee. That’s the deal.”
Another hit from the joint.
Another cloud of smoke.
“Now, unless you’ve got something better than that rifle inside your pack, I think that might just be the payment.”
Serrano shook his head. “Can’t do that. I need it for protection.”
The man scoffed. “Well, now, that’s one way of looking at it, but then again, who’s to say we won’t just take it from you anyway?” He gestured towards the men that stood behind him on either side. “If you give it up freely, maybe we’ll let you keep what you got in that pack.”
Chili shook his head. “Come on, guys, you don’t want to do this.”
The smile disappeared from the big man’s face as he stared at Serrano. “How the fuck you know what I want?” He stepped closer, bringing the smell of marijuana and body odor with him. “You fuckin’ don’t, do you?”
Reaching down, Serrano used his pant leg to wipe the sweat and grime from his hand. “You’re right, I don’t know what you want, but I certainly don’t want any trouble here. Look, I’ve got some food in my pack. Maybe you can take that instead?
The man frowned, shaking his head, causing the diamond stud in his left ear to sparkle in the sun. “Nah, dog. I think since you done pissed me off, we take eve’ything you got.” He reached for the gun at his belt and brought it up to point it at Serrano.
As the man’s right arm came up, Serrano sprung forward, slashing upward with the knife he’d pulled from his pocket. The blade cut upward through the man’s arm, severing the biceps tendon and filleting the muscles of the man’s upper arm. As the knife came away from the man’s arm, he deftly switched his grip and brought the sharpened edge downward, slicing open the man’s chest as he screamed in pain. In the same flowing motion, the blade flew from Serrano’s hand, crossing the distance between him and the nearest man on his right in an instant before embedding itself in the man’s upper chest.
Two shots rang out from Serrano’s right, where Aaron and Phillip had taken up positions near the rear of the overturned bus.
The two remaining men on the right flew backwards as Serrano’s right hand grabbed the first man’s jacket, holding him upright as his left hand fired his pistol, placing a bullet in the forehead of one of the men on his left.
The distant crack of a rifle sounded a half-second before the head of another man on Serrano’s left exploded. Serrano swiveled underneath the weight of the man he held upright as his gun acquired another target. The gun fired another round, catching a man in the throat, causing him to stumble backwards before collapsing to the ground.
The last two men brought their guns up, taking aim at Serrano and firing. The bullets smacked wetly into the body of the man he held, further ending the man’s hope for survival.
Before Serrano could take aim at the remaining men, Phillip and Aaron each fired once more, taking them down.
Serrano released his grip on the man he held, letting him fall to the ground in a heap. His eyes fluttered once, then went still as his blood flowed heavily from him, staining the concrete. He moved towards the bodies of the men on his left as Aaron and Phillip emerged from behind the bus. Together, they checked the bodies of the men that had fallen. As expected, each one was dead.
Gangsters were no match for trained warriors.
Serrano told Phillip and Aaron to grab the mens’ weapons as he walked back through the opening and motioned for Richard, Jennifer, and Damien to join them. Returning to where the fallen men were, he heard a banging sound coming from his right. He and the others tensed immediately, their hands creeping towards their weapons as they looked at the source of the banging.
At the side of the road a white, windowless van rocked on its springs as someone inside banged on its walls. Motioning for Phillip and Aaron to follow him, he led them around to the other side of the van, sliding his handgun into its holster and bringing his rifle around in front of him. Approaching the sliding door, he leaned in closer, listening intently.
Muffled voices came from within.
Serrano raised his MP4, looked at Aaron, then at the door. Aaron nodded before reaching for the door’s handle. He mouthed a count of three, then threw the door back open in one smooth motion as Serrano aimed his rifle inside.
The faces of a middle-aged white woman and her two children, a young boy and a little girl, stared out at him from the confines of the van.
The woman’s face was battered and bruised. Her button-up shirt had been torn open, revealing the lace bra she wore underneath. Her hair was an uncombed mess matted with sweat. She leaned forward, reaching for Serrano.
“Thank God.”
The woman’s strength left her, sending her falling forward from the van. Serrano managed to catch her awkwardly with one arm, saving her before she hit the pavement. He gently lowered her body to the ground.
“Phillip, get Jennifer. Aaron, give her some water.” The two men leapt into action, following his orders quickly as he regarded the children. Swinging his rifle behind his back in an effort to look less intimidating, he tried a smile as he looked at them and gave a slight wave.
“Hi there. I’m Chili. What are your names?”
The little girl moved to hide behind the boy as she stared at Serrano, her eyes filled with fear. The boy smiled.
“Chili. That’s not really your name…”
Serrano smiled more broadly. “Okay, you’re right. It’s my nickname. My real name is Gabriel.”
The boy looked at his mother on the ground. “Is my Mom going to be okay?”
Serrano looked down at the woman. Her wounds were superficial, likely from being roughed up by the thugs he and his men had killed. He nodded. “Yes, she’ll be fine.”
The boy pulled his sister out from behind him, getting her to stand next to him.
“I’m Jason. This is my sister Olivia.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Adelanto, California
The staff twirled deftly in his hands, a blur in the early morning light that shone from over the mountains to the east. He spun it repeatedly, moving it faster and faster, then thrust it outward in one smooth move, spearing a spot in the air six feet in front of his face with precision.
‘Faster,’ Paul said to himself, spinning the staff again. His wrists and forearms were growing tired from the repeated effort, but it was the good kind of pain, the kind associated with muscular development. The bigger issue was his shoulder, which still ached from the dislocation suffered at the hands of the Sheriff during the battle at the lodge. Though the pain was a distraction, he refused to give in to desire to ease up. Sweat dripped from his brow, falling around him in a circle as he
sidestepped, spun, and pivoted.
He thrust the staff forward again, withdrew it, spun it over his head, turned 180 degrees, and thrust it forward again. Stepping back, he resumed spinning the staff.
“Where the hell did this come from?”
The staff faltered in his hands, slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. Looking towards the sound of the voice, Paul saw Daniel standing there, smiling in approval.
“Until that drop, you were handling that staff like an expert,” Daniel said, giving the young man a thumbs up.
“Thanks,” Paul replied, looking downward, his self-consciousness showing again.
“Where did you learn that?” Daniel asked, sipping his cup of coffee. It was just after seven a.m., and though he’d been up since 3:30, waking up early for his 4 o’clock watch, it was only his second cup of the morning.
Paul grinned, lifting the smooth, six foot piece of wood he’d been meticulously sanding during his time in the car with Logan. It was difficult to handle in the front seat, so he’d spent the majority of the time sitting in the rear, holding the piece of wood in his lap while he worked.
“It’s kind of funny, actually. As I told you, my Mom abhors all kinds of violence, including contact sports.”
“Yeah, I remember you telling me that,” Daniel replied, nodding.
“So I joined the marching band.”
“Okay…”
“But I suck at playing an instrument. Like, really bad. I tried the flute, clarinet, trumpet, sax, and even the cymbals. I was terrible, and the Band Instructor felt bad for me, because he could see how much I wanted to be part of the group, so he had me start working with the baton.” He shrugged. “I was actually pretty good, so he decided to make me the band Majorette.”
Daniel cocked his head, looking at Paul quizzically. “But the baton is much smaller than that staff.”
Paul shrugged again. “Yeah, well, being a majorette isn’t actually the coolest thing in high school, so I wasn’t that popular, but the friends I do have are really into medieval live action role playing games. At first, I was using a homemade foam padded sword, but I wasn’t comfortable with it, so I made a staff to fight with - also padded, mind you - and I was really good with it. Then I began to wonder if I could do the same with an actual staff, so I bought a piece of wood at Home Depot and started making it into a weapon.”
“Did your mom know you were making it?”
Paul chuckled. “No, no way. I hid it up high in my closet, above the door. I had to buy some brackets to hold it, but she never found it.”
“Well, all that practice paid off. You look very comfortable with it.”
The young man grinned. “Thanks. I just need to figure out how to keep from dropping it when someone surprises me.”
Daniel came over and placed his hand on the teenager’s right shoulder. He looked pointedly at Paul’s other shoulder. “How’s it feeling?”
Paul nodded. “A little better every day. I’ve been taking Ibuprofen with every meal, and that helps.” He looked at the staff. “Exercise hurts, but in a good way.”
Daniel smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. You really played a big part in the rescue. You know that, right?”
He looked away. “Yeah, right. I got my ass kicked immediately and my shoulder dislocated for my trouble.”
“Bullshit. Every one of us had to do what we did to succeed. Every one of us. If you hadn’t intervened when you did, maybe Halwell would have won the fight, and I was in no shape to help.” Daniel shook his head, then stared at Paul again. “Don’t sell yourself short, Paul. We needed you to win. Just like we need you now.”
Paul looked down again, unable to maintain eye contact. “Thanks. I wish I was in your car, by the way.”
Daniel smiled, patting the young man on his shoulder. “Me, too, buddy. How is riding with Logan, anyway?”
Paul wiped the sweat from his brow and looked towards the little Prius they’d been riding in. “Okay, I guess. He’s just really quiet. I try making conversation, but he doesn’t have much to say, if at all.” He looked back at Daniel. “Something’s bothering him, something that happened recently that still hurts.”
Daniel nodded, sipping his coffee again. When he finished, he nodded towards the picnic table, where they’d set out their meager spread of food. “He’ll talk about it if and when he’s ready. For now, let’s get some food in our stomachs and get ready to get on the road.” He looked at Paul’s matted hair. “You might want to clean up before you get in the car for a full day of driving.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll do that. I found a set of trimmers in the room we’re in, so I was thinking maybe a haircut would help, too. It’s frickin’ hot.”
“Cool. What’re you thinking for a haircut?”
“I was thinking short, kinda like yours?”
Daniel smiled. “Sounds good. Need some help?”
“Please.”
“You got it. Let’s eat, then you get cleaned up, then I’ll cut it before we hit the road.”
An hour later, Serafina, Ashley, and Brenna looked on in shock as Paul emerged from the room with a short, military-style haircut. Gone was the thick mop of hair that had rested atop the young man’s head, replaced by a haircut that showed his youthful, angular face. Combined with the muscle definition he’d gained over the last two weeks and his rapidly clearing skin, he looked like a different person, one confident in himself and comfortable in who he was.
Daniel and Logan emerged moments later, each sporting fresh haircuts as well, though each of theirs was merely a cleaned up version of what they always wore.
They loaded their gear, food, and drinks into the two vehicles and set out on the road, heading north again on the 395 highway. Looking at the gas gauge, Daniel reluctantly admitted to himself that though the Prius brought back bad memories of the violent shootout a few miles from their home in San Diego, the little car’s gas-sipping nature was a huge benefit. They’d have to add fuel towards the end of the day, but the fact that they’d made it this far and would likely make it another three hundred plus miles before needing a fill up was remarkably efficient.
Of course, if they needed speed or toughness, they’d be out of luck, but tradeoffs were just that.
Hopefully their journey to San Francisco would be free of conflict.
Just before midday, they reached State Route 58, where they found the junction nearly impassable. Turning left, they had to guide their cars off the road, driving slowly through the gravel and dirt to minimize impacts to the small cars. Driving through the dirt, their vehicles created dust clouds that were easily visible from a distance. On this occasion, luck was on their side, for if they had been noticed, no one cared enough to interfere with their journey.
Once back on the highway, it was slow going again as usual. Unsurprisingly, cars were frequently found in clusters, making it difficult to pass. Those clusters slowed them down dramatically, requiring slow, precise maneuvering while holding their weapons close, ready to respond if anyone or anything attacked.
By one-thirty, the entire group was tired, hungry, and restless. Looking ahead, Daniel saw a sign indicating that a rest stop was only two miles away.
“We’re pulling off up ahead, at the rest stop,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Sounds good,” Serafina replied, removing her sunglasses and wiping her eyes with her hand. “I need to stretch my legs.”
“I think we all do,” he offered. “Girls, we’re stopping in a few minutes.”
Isabella looked at him from the rear seat. She was the only one awake. “Okay,” she said, looking over to Ashley and Brenna before looking back at Daniel. “Should I wake them up?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes, please. We’ll need everyone awake when we stop.”
“Okay,” the girl replied before gently nudging first Brenna, waking her, then Ashley, who reluctantly woke as well.
“What’s going on?” Ashley asked, stretching in her seat.
&nb
sp; Serafina looked back at her stepdaughter. “We’re gonna stop up ahead for lunch and a break.”
Ashley leaned over to look through the windshield. “What’s up there? I don’t see anything.”
“A rest stop. It won’t be much, but that’s okay. It should be easy to clear, so that will save us time.” Daniel replied.
“Clear?” Isabella asked, looking confused.
Serafina looked back and smiled at the girl. “Daniel and Logan will check things out to make sure it’s safe before we get out and set up for lunch.”
Isabella nodded slowly. “‘Cause there’s bad people out there…”
Daniel nodded slowly. “That’s right, Izzie.” He wanted to tell her that there were good people out there, too, but based on their experiences since the outbreak of the virus, the number of infected (who admittedly weren’t ‘bad’, since it was pretty clear their minds had been affected by the virus) and the number of people who embraced evil far outnumbered the good people they’d met.
Things were bad, no doubt, but those who sought to benefit from it rather than come together to stop the virus from destroying the country they loved were simply the worst of the worst.
Guiding the Prius off the highway, Daniel and Serafina looked at vehicles in the parking lot closely, scrutinizing each of them. There were three semi-trailer trucks, two passenger cars, and one SUV. At first glance, each appeared abandoned, sitting there in the heat of the afternoon sun, covered in dust, but no one was going to assume anything. Daniel swung the Prius to the left, towards the semi-trailer truck parking area, and passed all of the vehicles before stopping with the Prius pointed directly at the exit ramp with nothing in front of it but open road. If there was trouble, leaving wouldn’t be impeded.
Surviving Rage | Book 2 Page 20
