Two minutes later he exited the building through the back, pausing only to make sure the truck was gone before catching a cab back to the border.
Finding another cab, he paid through the nose to have the driver cover the fifty miles from the border back to the truck owner’s house in Oceanside, but he didn’t mind.
It was the dead man’s money anyway.
After a long, hot shower, he fell into the man’s bed, where he stared at the ceiling, planning out his next steps. He’d need to leave town, obviously, but what then? He had a nice stack of money, just over twenty grand, but it wouldn’t last very long if he didn’t have any income. Plus, he still needed a new car.
With that in mind, he settled on a plan. He’d catch a Greyhound bus to somewhere north in the state, where he’d lie low and find a job, something low key that would preferably pay under the table.
When the time was right, he’d move on with his new life.
With the shackles of the military off, he’d expand his mission.
He’d make his country better by removing the parasites that ate at it from the inside.
There was a lot to do, and it would require a lot of planning, but first, he needed a new name.
Something fitting for his look and features, but also something with a special meaning to him.
During his spare time on deployments, he’d studied World War II history under the guise of wanting to learn about war tactics and how to defend the country against the rise of fascists all over the world.
In truth it was so he could learn about the Nazis. They’d had a plan, and they hadn’t been afraid to execute it.
Of all the Nazi leaders he’d studied, one stood out. A man who’d not only been a soldier in the 16th Panzer Division, but one who’d also helped massacre hundreds of people, including a hundred and nineteen children.
A man by the name of Gerhard Sommer.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
West of Lemoore Station, California
In a manner that had become routine, Daniel awoke early for his guard shift without needing an alarm. Bringing his watch up, he turned it away from Serafina before pressing the button to illuminate its face.
1:22 AM.
Almost forty minutes before his shift.
‘Damn, it’s still really early,’ he thought as he released the button, extinguishing the light. He considered trying to get another twenty minutes of sleep, but knew he’d be unable to. Aside from knowing the alarm would wake his wife, something he didn’t want to do, his bladder was also full, and the more he thought about it, the more he had to go.
Moving the covers aside, he quietly slid out of the bed. He grabbed his clothes from the top of the dresser and carried them to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He relieved himself, then got dressed quietly and brushed his teeth, using a small bottle of water to rinse his mouth.
Exiting the bathroom, he tiptoed quietly out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him carefully so as not to wake his wife. Walking quietly on the hardwood floor of the big home, he was grateful that they’d found the place. With four bedrooms, a living room and a family room, it’d been easy for them to spread out: He and Serafina had taken the master bedroom, the three girls had taken the guest room, sharing the queen size bed, Logan and Paul had each taken one of the smaller bedrooms, and Joe had readily agreed to take the large couch in the family room at the rear of the house.
In the kitchen Daniel filled the stovetop coffee maker with water and coffee grounds, lit one of the gas stove’s burners using a match, then set the percolator on top of it. Returning to the living room, he grabbed his boots and put them on, then did a series of stretches before knocking out a set of fifty pushups to get his blood flowing.
By the time he was finished, the coffee on the stove was ready, so he poured himself a cup before making his way back across the living room and out onto the front porch.
At some point, the rain that had come suddenly the evening before had stopped, leaving the air clean and crisp. Unfortunately, the moisture had settled into the manure the cows had left in their enclosure not three hundred yards from the home, releasing the scent of the dung into the night air.
Above the ranch house, the night sky was partially lit by the moon, which, while barely half full, still shone brightly, in part due to the lack of light pollution that had become a norm in the world’s constantly powered existence.
Until the outbreak.
Joe’s larger, chunky frame sat on the steps of the porch, looking out across the yard. Finding the man sitting there surprised Daniel. It was supposed to be Paul’s shift, and he and the young man typically spent twenty or so minutes chatting before the young man went to bed. Over the last two weeks, Daniel had come to enjoy the interactions. The young man was smart, inquisitive, and impressionable, and he clearly enjoyed their conversations.
“Hey Joe,” Daniel began, keeping his voice low, “where’s Paul?”
Joe started slightly in surprise, which was a bit of a concern for Daniel. The man should have heard Daniel’s approach. If he couldn’t hear an opening door barely ten feet behind him, how could he be keeping a vigilant watch?
Turning slowly to look back at Daniel, the man said, “Oh, you’re early.”
Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Where’s Paul?”
Joe turned away and looked out towards the yard. “Couldn’t sleep, so I took over for him. Figured at least one of us could get some rest.”
Moving to the steps, Daniel nodded as he sat down. “Nice of you to do that. It does get hard, sleeping in a different location every night. Seems like we’ve barely had three nights in one place over the last two weeks. It’s been rough.”
Reilley nodded. “Same here. I slept in my car a couple of nights, in random homes on others. It sucks.”
Daniel nodded again, bringing his cup up to his mouth. He sipped his coffee, enjoying the warm liquid’s taste. Feeling the rush in his veins as the caffeine entered his system, he felt his senses awaken more.
“Well, I’m up now, so you should probably go try to get some sleep. While this place is great, I want to be on the road before seven. We’ve got a ways to go still. There’s no sense dragging it out.”
“Okay.” Joe rose to his feet slowly, groaning as he did.
“You alright?” Daniel asked, looking up at the man. He was moving gingerly, favoring his right side as he did.
“Yeah, I think during the little bit of sleep I got, I slept in an awkward position on that couch.”
“That sucks,” Daniel said. “Maybe move the cushions to the floor instead?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try that,” he said before turning away. “See you in the morning.”
“Alright. Get some rest. See you then.”
The man’s footsteps crossed the porch before the door creaked as it was opened, then clicked shut.
Daniel leaned back and rested his elbows on the surface of the porch as he brought his coffee cup to his lips again. Off in the distance, dark telephone poles stood on either side of the highway, silently lining the way to the east or west. Only two weeks ago, random cars would be passing in the night, lighting up the road as they made their way past. Tonight, though, there was nothing but dark stillness.
‘At least this place has an unobstructed view of the road,’ Daniel thought.
After their stop at the Naval Air Station, they’d been back on the road for an hour and forty-five minutes before they happened upon the home with its large surrounding farmland.
Numerous horses and cows had been fenced in at multiple locations on the land, trapped there long after their owners had fled. The animals were thin and weak from the neglect they’d suffered, so Daniel and the others did what they could, filling the animals’ troughs with all the hay in the barn and water from the property’s well, then propping every gate open so the animals would be able to get out and find other food to eat after the hay was gone. It wasn’t ideal, but at least the animals would have
a chance.
Sitting back on the step and looking up at the sky, Daniel smiled at the sight of a shooting star. The sight of the meteorites penetrating the earth’s atmosphere was still a neat occurrence, even now, after all these years.
Glancing toward the yard, his eyes caught the sight of something that wasn’t quite right. Off to the right of the steps he sat on, the dirt was disturbed. Looking closer, he saw long grooves in the dirt, as if someone had been trying to stand their ground against someone or something bigger and heavier.
Had the dirt been like that when they’d arrived?
He honestly hadn’t noticed.
Sitting back, he tried to focus on what they’d seen when they’d arrived. They’d approached the home slowly, keeping the cars’ speed low as they drove up the dirt road that led to the ranch house to avoid creating a dust cloud that would be visible from a distance.
He and Logan had parked side-by-side near the porch, leaving the cars pointed towards the road should they need to leave in a hurry. Daniel and Serafina had argued briefly over who would check the house, but in the end she’d relented, allowing him to accompany Logan on the mission.
Walking towards the home, they’d looked left and right, searching for signs of trouble before climbing the steps to the porch.
Which meant he would have noticed the grooves in the dirt, the signs of struggle.
Which meant the disturbance was new.
Creak
A board on the porch distracted him, causing him to turn slightly towards the sound of the noise.
An explosion of pain flashed in Daniel’s head.
Everything went dark as he felt his body hit the dirt in front of the home.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
San Luis Obispo, California
Sitting by the window at the front of the small home, Serrano gazed out through the glass at the overgrown lawn that was slowly encroaching on the narrow stone path that led from the road to the front of the house. Like the hours before, all was silent on the street. Nothing moved in the darkness, other than the occasional dog or cat that passed by, looking for food. Serrano made a mental note to search the garage for dog or cat food before they left, which would be in just over three hours.
It was almost four a.m., and like the others, he’d struggled to sleep, barely getting four hours of shut eye before giving up and rising from his bed. In the adjoining room, he heard Sarah’s muted crying as she dealt with her grief, keeping her head in the pillow to minimize the noise for fear of waking the children. The woman had taken Damien’s death particularly hard, refusing to talk about it during the short drive to the home they’d chosen, passing on dinner when it was offered (though she ensured the children ate their share), and heading to bed early.
Unable to find the words to comfort her, Serrano had simply offered his best reassuring smile while showing her the room she, Jason, and Olivia would be sharing. Trying to put on a brave face, the woman smiled in return, but her eyes didn’t join the rest of her face in the gesture.
The group had remained quiet through dinner, finding little to share as their minds struggled to handle the emotions that dominated their consciousness.
Damien had been a good man, one who chose to end his life rather than risk hurting any of them, and accepting his death was still hard.
As the leader of the group, Serrano held himself responsible for the man’s death, and it burned him inside like a hot coal in his stomach.
He’d failed.
Again.
Sighing, he took his knife from its holder on his leg, brought it up and began sharpening its edge absently, slowly dragging its edge along a whetstone as his eyes continued to look for movement outside.
Redemption would be hard to find in his soul.
When morning came, the group gathered in the small kitchen for breakfast, eating protein bars, cold Pop-Tarts, and canned fruit while drinking water or coffee. Serrano remained by the front of the home, maintaining the watch as he chewed his protein bar and sipped water.
Standing at the sliding glass window at the rear of the home, Sarah stewed silently as she absentmindedly stared at the weed-covered yard.
Damien’s death had rocked her to her core, forcing her to confront the fact that John was dead as well. Had he chosen to end his life the way Damien had? Had he turned? Had he killed other people?
As the questions flooded her mind, she felt anger growing inside her. The whole situation was unfair. Good people had died and were still dying. Those who’d survived were struggling to stay alive, spending their days and nights in fear, hiding, fighting, or running as the infected sought to kill, or worse, turn them.
How had this happened?
How had the most advanced country in the world been reduced to a mere shell of what it had been in less than two weeks?
At that moment, her anger found focus.
The government had failed them.
It was the government’s fault that this had happened.
It was the government’s fault Damien had died.
That John had died.
Suddenly, she was furious. Turning away from the window, she set her coffee cup on the table before passing through the group and walking across the living room to the master bedroom, where her backpack was. Grabbing it from the bed, she returned to the living room and set it on the couch, aware that Serrano’s eyes were watching her every move. Reaching inside, she took out the military radio she’d taken from the Humvee on the freeway near Camp Pendleton.
She was going to get it off her chest. She knew it wouldn’t make a difference, but she needed to speak her mind.
Turning on the radio, she brought to her lips just as it crackled.
“San Francisco Protective Zone, come in….”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Fresno, California
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, finding its way through the closed drapes and shining onto Sommer’s face, forcing him to turn away from the offending light. Rolling onto his side, he blinked a few times before opening his eyes. The bottle of whiskey he’d brought to the room the night prior sat empty on the nightstand next to a bottle of water, his watch, and the keys to the Mustang.
Stretching, he raised his hands over his head, grabbing the headboard’s post before extending his legs straight out, feeling his muscles cry out in happiness. Sitting up slowly, he reached for the bottle of water. He took a small drink before rising from the bed and walking to the window. Opening the curtains, he looked out at the backyard and beyond that to the river.
Grinning, he thought about how Miller’s body had floated away quickly on the river’s current after Trent and Graham tossed it in there the night before. The Captain had thought Sommer still cared about the military chain of command, but nothing could be farther from the truth.
He hated the government and everything it stood for. The government, and with it, the military, had grown weak over the last fifty years, refusing to do the hard, challenging things that would keep the country the world’s pre-eminent superpower. Instead, it banned Christian prayer in school while simultaneously allowing mosques to pop up everywhere, attempted to regulate gun ownership, and insisted on letting other races co-mingle in the schools that should have been reserved for the White Man.
The country was being weakened in the name of ‘equality’ and it needed a hard lesson to help it regain its senses.
It needed this.
The outbreak had already killed millions and brought the government to its knees. Ideally, millions more would die, freeing up land that would be available for the reconstruction of America. When the time was right, he’d establish a camp in the center of the country, where he’d gather hundreds, if not thousands, of like-minded individuals who would help him establish a place where the White Man could flourish.
And there wouldn’t be a damn thing those whiny fucking minorities could do about it.
Exiting the master bedroom, Sommer was greeted by the wonderful
smell of frying bacon. Realizing that the home’s solar-powered energy system had kept the electricity on, which meant the refrigerators had been able to preserve meat and other perishables kept within, he smiled.
He found Hank, Trent, Randall, and Graham in the kitchen, where the last two worked the stove, cooking eggs, bacon, and hash browns, while the first two sat at the table drinking coffee.
“Morning, boss.” Hank said, smiling as he rose from his seat. “Coffee?”
“Definitely,” Sommer replied, moving to the chair at the head of the table.
“This place is nice,” Hank said as he poured the coffee into a mug.
“Sure is,” Trent added, raising his coffee cup in a toast, “we could make this place home for a while.”
Sommer turned and looked at the man, staring at him unwaveringly. “I’ll decide where we decide to set up home base.”
Trent raised his hands defensively. “I know, I know. I just meant we could make it home. It’s up to you, though.”
Sommer nodded, looking out the window towards the backyard and the river. From the lower level of the home the trees blocked the river more, but he was still able to make out the flowing water as the morning sun reflected off its surface.
“Eggs over easy or scrambled?” Graham asked from his position near the stove. He shrugged. “Sorry, those are the only two ways I know how to make them,” he explained.
Sommer nodded. “No worries. Scrambled works.”
“Coming up!” the other man replied, whipping raw eggs in a bowl before pouring them onto a hot skillet.
Sipping his coffee, Sommer looked around the modern interior of the massive home. It would be easy to make this place home base, especially with working electricity.
Surviving Rage | Book 2 Page 39
