Surviving Rage | Book 4

by Arellano, J. D.

  Daniel led the way into the hallway, turning to the left. Paul, following close behind, was passing through the door when one end of his bow caught on the glass frame around the opening. It pulled the bow backwards, freeing the ball, which fell to the floor and bounced away, echoing in the glass-enclosed expanse of the high ceiling hallway.

  Two hundred yards from where Daniel and Paul stood, frozen in place, the Scorpion cocked her head suddenly and listened.

  “The fuck was that?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Palo Alto, California

  “What the hell do you want?” the woman asked, keeping the gun she held leveled at Serafina’s chest.

  ‘She obviously knows how to use a gun,’ Serafina thought to herself. Unlike in the movies, where people aim at their enemies’ heads, the targeting method most likely to be successful involved aiming at the enemies chest, or ‘center mass.’ It offered a bigger target area that was much harder to move out of the way quickly.

  Lowering her knife, Serafina replied, “Just trying to see what happened here.” Not knowing who the woman was or what her and the people she was with were likely to do, she didn’t want to give more information than was necessary. For all she knew, the woman could be with the person Paul had shot with an arrow.

  “Drop the knife,” the woman replied, staring at Serafina. Her gun never wavered as it remained aimed at Serafina’s chest.

  Serafina did as the woman ordered, dropping it in a way that ensured the butt of the handle would strike the pavement, not the blade itself. As she did so, she silently cursed at herself for not being more cautious. She could say that the fact that she had no idea where her husband or Paul had gone was on her mind, or that the blood stain on the street and the feather from one of Paul’s arrows had distracted her, but even so, it was on her to remain alert.

  In the world they now lived in, staying alert was an integral part of staying alive.

  Bringing her hands up, she began, “Look, I don’t want any trouble here. I just saw the truck, with the charger balanced on the engine, and I decided to check it out.”

  The other woman cocked her head to the side slightly, regarding Serafina with skeptical eyes. “How do I know you’re not with the gang that was here?”

  ‘A gang,’ Serafina thought to herself, filing the information away. Things were starting to take shape. “Do I seriously look like a gang member?” she asked, sarcastically.

  The blonde woman took a breath, clearly agitated. After a moment, she exhaled and lowered the gun. Looking at Serafina, she gave a slight nod before shrugging.

  “Sorry. You’re right.” She walked over, picked up Serfina’s knife and admired it for a moment before passing it back to its owner. ”Nice,” she said, smiling.

  “Thanks,” Serafina replied, accepting the knife and stashing it in its sheath on her belt.

  “Sarah,” the blonde woman said, smiling a little wider. “Normally, I’d offer my hand, but I don’t think people are doing that anymore - what’s so funny?”

  “Sorry,” Serafina replied, “it’s just that my name is Serafina. My friends and family call me Sera for short.”

  “Ah, I see.” Sarah replied, chuckling. “Not ‘fina’?”

  Serafina laughed harder.

  The door to the back of the truck cracked open, revealing the face of a young, dark-haired woman. “Is everything okay?” she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

  The woman opened the door the rest of the way, revealing the interior of the armored truck. Seated next to the prone form of an elderly man, two young children looked out, their eyes filled with concern.

  The sight of the children made Serafina think of Ashley and Brenna. Taking a few steps backwards, she made eye contact with the girls, then motioned from them to come over.

  Once the girls joined them, introductions were made all around. Looking up at the newcomers, Richard said, “Don’t worry about me. Soon enough, I’ll be back on my feet.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Serafina replied, smiling. Turning back to Sarah, she asked, “So what happened, anyway?”

  Sarah took a deep breath before she began. “The men we were with went to the bridges to attempt to rescue the young girl that’s immune. Apparently, some guy - ”

  “- wants to ransom her for diamonds!” Serafina finished. “Holy shit…” she said, shaking her head.

  The two women spent the next few minutes sharing their journeys, which revolved mostly around making their way to San Francisco, before becoming focused on locating and rescuing Isabella. When Sarah got to the part about the young Latina threatening to blow up the truck with the five of them in it, she paused.

  “I thought we were dead for sure. When she ignored our willingness to cooperate and headed back to where the rest of the gang was waiting, I knew we’d never have a chance to get far enough away before she detonated the explosives.” Looking into the cargo area of the truck, she added, “And there was no way we’d leave Richard behind.”

  “I understand,” Serafina replied, nodding. “But then someone shot her with an arrow, right?”

  Sarah stared back at her, stunned. “How did you know that?”

  “We found a feather on the ground near where the woman must have fallen.” Serafina’s eyes locked onto the other woman’s. “I’m guessing she was injured pretty badly.”

  Sarah scoffed, then shook her head. “She’s dead.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure. This other woman that was with her was holding her and crying, then screamed loudly when the younger one stopped responding.”

  “Damn.”

  “Then they loaded up the young woman’s body and left in a hurry. In all the rush, they forgot about us.”

  Serafina nodded, then asked, “Did you see who shot the arrow?”

  “Yeah, but not that well. I do know there were two of them.” She described the two men she saw. When Serafina heard the description, she felt confident it was Daniel and Paul.

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  Sarah pointed. “Yeah, to the east, towards the bay.”

  “And the people who threatened you?”

  “The same way.”

  “Shit,” Serafina said, shaking her head.

  “We gotta go help them, Auntie,” Brenna said, her eyes wide with concern.

  “I know,” her stepmother replied, shaking her head, “But we’ll never catch up with them before that gang does.”

  “Maybe we can find another car,” Ashley said, pointing towards the lowrider.

  “Or,” Sarah said, smiling. She jutted her thumb towards the armored truck. “Maybe we see if this beast starts up.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  East Palo Alto, California

  Dreams came and went through Logan’s mind as he rode the soft, soothing waves of unconsciousness, the ones that shielded him from the pain that existed when he was awake and cognizant of the deep gouge in his leg. Floating through the clouds that carried him past the faces of those that brought him joy in his life, he latched onto their images, longing for a chance to stay with them, to enjoy the happiness they shared together one more time.

  His mother, smiling as she passed him the spoon she’d used to put globs of cookie dough on the baking sheet….

  His father, uncharacteristically hugging him after the football game in which he’d grabbed the game-winning interception…

  His older brother, beaming with pride as he introduced Logan to his friends as a ‘Combat Veteran’ who’d earned a Purple Heart and a Soldier’s Medal...

  Wendy, looking deep into his eyes as she told him she loved him for the first time...

  Isabella, wrapping him in her thin arms and holding him for all she was worth….

  Isabella…

  Forcing his eyes open, he allowed the pain that radiated from his lower leg to grab hold of him once more, waking him instant
ly with its intensity. Above him, the blue skies were dotted with sparse clouds that passed by slowly, riding the air currents as they floated by, thousands of feet above where he laid.

  Grimacing, he forced himself up into a seated position, his eyes seeking out and finding his tightly wrapped leg. Isabella had done well, wrapping a total of four pieces of cloth around the wound: the first three positioned at the bottom, middle, and top, respectively, the last one, which was wider than the rest, laid over the top of the first three, holding them in place.

  Looking at the thick, folded square that was pressed against the wound, he saw that his blood had seeped through the square, darkening most of the fabric.

  ‘But not all,’ he thought to himself. That told him the bleeding had stopped, which was a good sign. He still had to deal with the possibility of infection, but if he could get Isabella to the Protective Zone later that afternoon, he felt confident that the medical personnel there would be able to provide him with antibiotics.

  Turning his head, his eyes found Isabella staring at him, expectantly.

  “How long was I out?” he asked, shaking his head in an effort to clear the cobwebs.

  “Not long,” she replied. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?”

  “Really?” he asked, surprised. It had felt like hours.

  “Uh hunh,” she said, nodding. “I wrapped your leg, then went to look around.”

  Turning to look at her, he asked, “You did what?”

  Sensing she’d said something wrong, she lowered her voice slightly before responding. “I went to, you know, look around…”

  Logan’s face hardened as he looked at the girl. “You can’t do that. You need to stay close.”

  “I know, I just - ”

  “Nope,” he said, cutting her off. “No excuses. You go out there, I can’t protect you.”

  “You were asleep anyway,” she protested.

  In response, Logan said nothing, choosing instead to glare at the young girl. He’d come too far, endured too much, to have the girl wander off and get herself hurt or possibly even killed.

  Looking away, Isabella reached over, grabbed a plastic Coca Cola bottle, and thrust it towards him, mumbling, “Here.”

  Accepting it from her, he realized it was filled with water.

  Thank God.

  Feeling like he hadn’t had something to drink in days, Logan grabbed the bottle without hesitation. He unscrewed the cap, brought it to his lips, and took a small drink, resisting the urge to down the entire bottle in one long drink.

  As if reading his mind, she said, “You can drink it all. I’ll just refill it.”

  He hesitated, wanting to ask where she’d refill the bottle, but his thirst was overpowering. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, draining half of the twenty ounce bottle, before pulling it away and taking a deep breath. He waited, wanting to be sure he wouldn’t overdo it and risk spitting up what he’d consumed. After a minute, he drained the rest and passed the bottle back to the girl.

  “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes for a second as he savored the feeling of having his thirst quenched.

  ‘I should use some water to clean my wound,’ he thought. Turning to Isabella, he opened his mouth to ask for more so that he could do so.

  Anticipating his question again, she said, “I washed your leg before putting the bandages on there.”

  Logan smiled as he looked at the girl. “Thank you again.”

  “No problem. There’s a water faucet on the side of that building,” she said, pointing at the square, grey, concrete structure that was nearby. “I found the bottle on the ground, so I rinsed it as best I could, then filled it up and used it to rinse your leg before wrapping it.” Shuddering, she added, “It looks gross, by the way.”

  “I know,” he replied, closing his eyes as he nodded.

  “See, Graham, I told you it was them,” a voice said from nearby.

  Shutting rest out of his mind, Logan rolled to his side and was about to rise to his feet when he saw the barrels of two guns pointed at him.

  “Not a fuckin’ move.” Graham said, sneering at him.

  Logan froze.

  Nodding towards Trent, he said, “You were right. These fuckers are like damned roaches. Hard to fucking kill.”

  The thick-bodied man nodded happily. “You’ll tell the boss I found them?”

  “You betcha,” Graham said, still watching Logan and Isabella. Raising his chin, he said, “Get up.” A half-second later, he added, “Slowly.”

  Logan struggled to rise, accepting Isabella’s help as she steadied him. His calf screamed in protest the moment he extended his right leg, trying to push himself up, and he nearly fell before he felt her hands reach out to grab his upper arm. Though she was small and thin, she was strong, and her assistance kept him from falling on his ass.

  Balancing himself while keeping the majority of his weight on his left leg, Logan brought up his hands. “Look, just let her go.”

  “Fuck that. She’s the one we want.”

  Playing dumb, Logan said, “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, right.” Trent replied, shaking his head. “You think we’re dumb or somethin’?”

  Logan’s eyes took in the chubby man. His squat, flabby frame was only accentuated by the loose-fitting sleeveless t-shirt he wore. He held his gun awkwardly, like he was still getting used to it. Normally, that would present an opportunity for Logan to exploit, but in his current condition - unarmed and barely able to stay on his feet - he could do little more than stare back at the man.

  Looking over at the other man, Logan found laser-focused eyes locked on him. The man recognized Logan for what he was: a military man trained to fight. As he realized that Logan was too injured and too tired to put up much of one, a sinister smile spread across his face.

  “My friend here asked you a question,” Graham growled, keeping his gun trained on Logan.

  Logan shook his head. “No. I don’t think you guys are dumb at all. I just don’t know why you want her,” he replied, nodding towards Isabella. “She’s just a kid.”

  As if on cue, Isabella began to cry. “Please don’t hurt us…”

  “Shut up!” Graham yelled, pointing his gun at her.

  “Izzie, stop, please,” Logan said, stepping slightly sideways, towards her.

  Graham’s gun swung back over to settle on him. “Where the fuck you think you’re going.”

  “I was just - ”

  Bang!

  A bullet whizzed by Logan’s head, pinging off a rock before splashing in the blue-green water of the bay.

  “Move again, you’re dead.” Graham said, never taking his eyes off Logan.

  “Fuck this!” Trent yelled, stepping forward. “Let’s just kill these fuckers now! We can’t risk having her NDA or whatever spread all over the place as part of some fuckin’ vaccine or somethin’!”

  ‘NDA?’ Logan wondered, feeling bewildered.

  DNA.

  ‘Spread through a vaccine, though?’

  Seriously, what the fuck?

  “Hold on - ” Graham said, turning slightly towards the chubby man and bringing his hand up.

  The chubby man shook his head. “No way, man. Steve wants her dead. That’s the whole reason we’re here.”

  Graham realized he’d been following his instincts, stopping Trent before he did anything, because chances were that whatever he did would be the wrong thing, but in this case, the man was right.

  “Good point,” he said, smiling and nodding. “Tell you what,” he told the other man, “you kill the girl, I’ll take care of this fucker.”

  Looking back at Logan, he brought his gun up and pointed it at Logan’s head.

  Logan barely noticed. He was more concerned about the chubby man. He was going to kill Isabella.

  There would be no negotiating.

  No pleading.

  No mercy.

  Unarmed and injured, Logan did the only thing he could to protect h
er. He turned and wrapped her in his arms, facing away from the men, shielding her with his body as he waited for the bullets that would end his life.

  Shots rang out, shattering the relative quiet surrounding them, scaring the seagulls and Great Blue Herons that had been hiding in the reeds nearby.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  San Mateo, California

  Darkness.

  Pain.

  Darkness. Heavy and unyielding.

  Pain. Spreading through his body.

  ‘Come on, Jonathan. You have to check on A.J. and the others,’ Reed’s mind told him, forcing him into consciousness once more. Grimacing with pain as he forced his eyes open, he swallowed down the nausea caused by the broken bone in his left leg, which was sticking out of a tear in the pant leg of his flight suit. Turning his head to look at the injury, he found himself face to face with the recently deceased Sergeant McGhee, who still laid at his feet, resting against his legs. The big man’s lifeless gaze stared back at him, trying to communicate all the things the man had left unfinished in his life.

  Swallowing, Reed turned to look at Mason in his seat two spots to Reed’s left. A huge lump protruded on the right side of the man’s head. The lump was actually a good thing. It told Reed that the likelihood of an internal injury to the man’s brain was low. If there wasn’t any visible swelling after an impact of that magnitude, it would have indicated the opposite; that the injury had been internalized, presenting the risk of damage to the brain. Either way, remaining unconscious wasn’t a good thing.

  Plus, he needed the man to help him splint his leg before he could assist both Mason and the other remaining crew members that had survived the crash.

  If there were any.

  Reed’s voice was a frog-like croak when he spoke.

  “A.J…”

  The young Air Force Staff Sergeant didn’t respond.

  Extending his arm, Reed nudged the man’s shoulder.

  Nothing.

  ‘Shit,’ he thought.