His peripheral vision alerted him once more. He swung the gun towards the other man just as the other man pulled the trigger on his weapon.
Serrano’s Sig Sauer barked three times as he sent all three rounds into the man’s chest, knocking the man backwards and out of the hole in the side of the aircraft.
He heard the heavy thump of the man’s body hitting the ground.
Looking down at his abdomen, he saw the telltale sign of a deadly wound there as blood bloomed across the fabric of his uniform.
Lowering his head to deck, he tried to conserve his energy.
“Doc…” he called out, his voice a weak version of its normal self.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
East Palo Alto, California
‘They need you, Richard.’
Richard Singletary blinked at the sound of his wife’s voice in his head. She’d been dead for five years, and though there’d been numerous occasions where he’d found himself speaking aloud to her as he puttered around his apartment, she’d never responded.
Nor had he expected her to.
‘What?’ he asked the voice in his head.
When the voice returned, a low, soft humming sound accompanied it, similar to the background sound that comes from electronics when they’re on but not playing music. ‘They need you. You have to help them.’
‘But my legs. They’re…’ embarrassed by his weakness, he couldn’t finish the thought. He knew his wife understood. Linda had seen this happen several times, though it had been at least twenty years since the last time it had occurred. As he’d aged, he’d slowed down, like everyone does, and as he had, the likelihood of sudden, jarring movements decreased dramatically. Still, it was a tough affliction to accept, even more so in front of the woman he loved. Even if she weren’t actually here.
‘You’re still strong, Richie,’ her voice replied, soothing him with the warmth and love he remembered so fondly.
‘But how?’ he asked.
‘You’ll find a way,’ she answered, refusing to give him more. ‘But you have to hurry.’
‘I - ‘
‘Hurry, Richie.’ The humming sound cut out. She was gone.
Struggling, he forced himself into a seated position. ‘Damn, that was hard,’ he thought to himself. Knowing what he’d have to do next, he steeled himself. It would be even harder.
“Pass me my shirt, there, will ya, Jason?” he said, pointing to his flannel shirt, which Jennifer had helped him remove in an effort to deal with the excessive heat in the back of the armored truck.
The young boy did so, sliding the neatly folded shirt over to him. Using his core, he held himself upright as he put one arm into the shirt, then the other.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked.
Richard raised his chin and pointed towards the rear door with it.
“I’m going out there.”
“But...I thought you were staying with us.”
“I know, but look: with that door closed, you’re just as safe with me as you are without me.”
Jason nodded slowly, understanding.
“There’s not much I can do, laying here on my back.”
“I know, but...why are you going out there? You can’t even walk.” the boy protested.
“Don’t go, Uncle Richard,” Olivia chimed in, fear showing on her face. The girl clearly felt safer with an adult present, which was understandable. Nevertheless, Richard was both comfortable in the fact that he’d be leaving the children in a veritable fortress, and resolute in his decision.
His wife had waited five years to speak to him.
He trusted her throughout their lives together.
There was no reason not to now.
“I’ll be right back, Ollie,” he said, offering a smile.
“You promise?” the girl asked, her eyes as round as saucers.
“I promise,” he replied, nodding.
“Okay…”
“I still don’t understand how - ” Jason began, shaking his head.
“It’s okay,” Richard said, cutting him off. “Just help me to the door, then hand me my rifle. Once I’m outside, close and lock the door.”
“How will I know to let back in?” he asked.
“I’ll knock three times, like this,” he began, tapping his knuckle on the floor of the cargo area three times sharply, “then pause, then tap one more time,” he did so, striking the floor once more.
The boy nodded. “Okay,” he said, relenting.
“Good, now bring my rifle over to the door for me.” With that, he used his arms to slide himself forward along the metal surface of the cargo area floor until he was at the door. “Take a look and make sure it’s clear out there, please,” he said. The boy did so, pushing the heavy door open with Richard’s help and looking through the gap. After a few moments, he pulled his head back in and nodded.
“It’s okay.”
“Good. Now, hold the door while I lower myself to the ground, then pass me my rifle.”
As the boy nodded in understanding, Richard pushed the door open far enough to squeeze through, then lowered himself towards the surface of the street, hating the way his legs flopped underneath him like wet noodles. Of all the times for his back to act up, why now? He should have been there with the women, standing by their sides. Instead, he’d be trying to catch up to them by crawling.
When his butt hit the asphalt, he looked up at Jason and nodded. The boy passed him his long-range rifle carefully, using both hands as he lowered it into Richard’s waiting hands. Once it was there, Richard slung it over his shoulder and told the boy to close and lock the door.
Turning his head, he looked towards the end of the street. He could see the women had almost reached the intersection. He considered calling out to them, but decided against it. As vulnerable as he was on the ground, he didn’t want to call attention to himself. He also didn’t want to be a burden to them.
Linda had said they needed him, not the other way around.
Leaning to one side, he lowered himself onto his stomach. Using only his arms, he began crawling, dragging his legs behind him as he slowly moved down the street. By his estimate, the end of the street was about a tenth of a mile away.
Grateful that the long sleeve flannel shirt he’d put on was protecting his elbows, he began slowly working his way down the street.
He’d barely made it a quarter of the way there when the shooting started.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
East Palo Alto, California
“Shit!” Serafina yelled, rushing forward to grab the clip Daniel had thrown. Ejecting the one in her Glock, she didn’t bother to catch it, choosing instead to let it fall to the ground so that she could slap the new magazine into the gun.
Rising back up she resumed shooting, but felt helpless as she watched the infected smash the windows of the minivan. She couldn’t fire on them without risking hitting Daniel or Paul with a stray bullet. The Glock was most accurate inside of fifty yards, and by her estimation, the minivan sat about seventy yards away. Firing at the mob beyond the van was one thing, a miss there would likely hit one of the other infected, but trying to pick off one of the infected on the other side of the van was another.
Too risky.
And yet, something had to be done.
“We’ve got to help them!” She yelled, glancing towards Sarah.
“I’m down to my last magazine!” Sarah replied, her face filled with concern.
Sarah watched as the mob plowed into the minivan. One of the infected, a heavyset black woman rushed around to the near side of the vehicle. Aiming with care, Serafina put a round into the woman’s back. The woman collapsed.
Looking beyond the minivan, her heart sank as she saw at least thirty more of the infected rushing towards where her husband and Paul were pinned down. She fired again, taking out a middle eastern man in a polo shirt as he rounded the edge of the van.
“I’m out,” Ashley said, lowering her rifle.
“Me, too,�
�� Jennifer added, after firing her gun one last time.
Serafina fired again, missing her target. ‘Dammit!’ She fired yet again, but in her haste, barely clipped her target. The white man stumbled sideways two steps, then continued closing in on the minivan, headed straight for the rear doors.
What could they do?
“You got this?”
“Hell, yeah. You know I’ve got the better arm.”
“Whatever, man. Just hurry up.”
The ball-like object flew high through the air, covering the distance with ease before it landed near the front of the pack of infected.
Boom!
The explosion rocked the minivan on its springs, knocking Daniel and Paul onto their butts. The infected at the windows slid down and away, leaving bits of cloth, as well as pieces of flesh, on the jagged edges of glass at the opening’s edge.
Silence descended upon the area, momentarily giving their ears a short reprieve from the enraged screams of the infected and the sound of them pounding on the side of the minivan.
Then the gunfire started again.
But this time it was different.
“Advance, or stay in position?” Phillip asked, squeezing the trigger of his AR-15.
“Let’s split up,” Aaron replied, firing his weapon in a short, three round burst. “We’ll leave Logan here in the middle. I’ll head towards the women so you can come around the far side of the van. You head to the right. We’ll shred ‘em.”
“I like it,” Phillip said, nodding. Looking towards where the other man was leaning against the side of the Chevrolet Volt, he asked, ”Logan, you good?”
“Yeah,” the man replied, firing a round from the Sig Sauer handgun Phillip had loaned him. “We need to hurry, though,” he added.
“Isabella, stay here, okay?” Phillip asked.
Looking up at him with wide eyes, the girl nodded. Bringing her hands up to cover her ears, she shrunk down and squatted on the ground next to Logan.
Phillip turned to Aaron. “Let’s do this.”
“Bet.” The black man sprung into action, firing his weapon in bursts as he sidestepped towards where Sarah, Jennifer, the other woman, and two teenage girls were standing.
The Scorpion was running in the middle of the pack, closing in on the minivan when she saw the grenade fall into their midst. Though the infected didn’t bother to give it a second thought, she recognized it instantly. She moved behind a much larger man just as the grenade detonated.
It didn’t help much. The force of the blast ripped through the man, knocking him into her as the two of them were thrown into the air. A second later, she hit the ground, landing on a concrete curb, breaking two of her ribs in the process.
While the man’s body had shielded her from the grenade’s shrapnel, it became a massive weight that landed atop her, slamming her chin down onto the pavement, snapping her head backwards.
Battered, broken, cut, bruised, and bloodied, she felt her will slipping away as her vision went black.
‘I tried, my love,’ she said in her mind as her consciousness faded.
Blinking away the cobwebs caused by the explosion, Daniel forced himself forward again, grabbing the tire iron and swinging it towards one of the arms that still reached inside the minivan. He connected with the elbow, shattering it, but there was no response. The arm slipped back through the window as its owner fell away, killed by the blast.
Looking towards the other broken windows, he found each of them empty, revealing the space beyond. The infected were being picked off one by one as semi-automatic weapons continued to fire in short bursts.
All they could do was wait it out.
No…. there’s still a chance….
Little by little, Aaron, Phillip, and Logan finished off what the women had started, sending what remained of the infected to their graves, ending the miserable existence that had become their lives after becoming afflicted with the virus.
As the last of them fell, the three men breathed a sigh of relief. Aaron and Phillip lowered the weapons as they made their way back towards where Sarah and Jennifer waited.
Serafina, Ashley, and Brenna lowered their weapons, becoming suddenly aware of the silence that descended upon the area now that the screams, snarls, and growls of the infected had stopped, along with the gunfire that had raged. The three of them stepped forward from the sidewalk, picking their way down the embankment as they headed down towards the minivan that had shielded Daniel and Paul.
Across the way, Logan emerged from behind the Volt with Isabella at his side.
‘Thank God,’ Serafina thought, looking at the girl. If anything had happened to her, all of this would have truly been for nothing; all the danger, the injuries, the risk, the near-death, all of it.
As she watched the young girl, she saw her eyes grow wide at the sound of the minivan’s side door opening. Daniel emerged first, moving gingerly as he stepped down onto the concrete of the parking lot. Even so, he slipped to the ground as his leg, which was heavily wrapped, gave way under his weight.
Breaking free from Logan’s grasp, Isabella ran down the embankment, rushing to Daniel’s side.
A flurry of motion came from the area to the right of the van.
Isabella screamed.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
East Palo Alto, California
Lowering his head, he rested it on the warm surface of the street as he sucked in oxygen.
‘Damn, I’m tired,’ Richard said to himself. After he heard the shooting start, he pushed himself harder, trying to reach the women so that he could help them. He had no idea who (or what) they were shooting at, but he was determined to help.
The problem was he underestimated how physically exhausting crawling was when you didn’t use your legs.
He closed his eyes.
‘Just for a second,’ he told himself.
The humming sound returned.
‘You have to hurry, Richie.’ Linda said inside his head. Her voice was soft and caring, but firm, telling him that she knew what he was doing was hard, but that the need was great.
‘I’m trying,’ he said, opening his eyes. He raised his head and looked down the street. He was still half a block away from the women, and the shooting seemed to be intensifying.
‘You can do this,’ his wife’s voice replied.
“Okay,” he said aloud, nodding to himself.
‘Remember what you always told me: Marines find a way,’ she added, before cutting out again.
Richard smiled slightly. He had used that phrase often, and still did today. Looking down the street, his eyes settled on a new objective.
Redoubling his efforts, he pushed himself even harder, ignoring the pain he felt in his elbows as the tiny bits of gravel ground their way into his skin. His shirt had quickly frayed, then worn away from the continued scraping on the pavement, and now the street was tearing his skin.
He pushed on, ignoring the pain. At last, he reached his goal. He reached up and grabbed the brush guard on the front of the Acura MDX SUV. Using it to pull himself into a seated position, he briefly thought about how ridiculous it was for a luxury SUV to have a brush guard, but quickly put the thought out of his mind. Whether it was there for function or appearance, it was serving the purpose he needed it for now. Turning towards the front of the vehicle, he grabbed the top of the brush guard and pulled himself up until his stomach was even with the top bar. Leaning forward he allowed his weight to carry him onto the hood of the metallic grey SUV. Sucking in another breath, he brought his arms, which felt like lead weights, up and grabbed the top edge of the hood, then used his strength to slide himself up until his face was resting on the hot glass of the windshield.
Taking another breath, he reached up to the top of the vehicle and grabbed the bars of the roof rack. He used the bars to hoist himself onto the SUV’s roof, slipping forward at the end and lightly smacking his chin on the metal top of the vehicle. Undeterred, he smiled.
He’d made it
.
He looked towards where the women had formed a line at the end of the street. From his position, he could see over them and down into the parking lot, where countless infected were converging on a minivan.
Quickly bringing his rifle around, he rested it on the rear part of the roof rack to steady it, then removed the protective covers on the scope. Looking through the glass, he focused the field of view on the minivan.
Daniel and Paul were trapped inside, desperately fighting off the infected that were trying to force their way inside.
Seconds later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a grenade exploding.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
San Mateo, California
“Doc…”
‘Dammit, Jonathan, he needs help!’ Reed thought, forcing himself to his hands and knees. ‘So does A.J.,’ he added, taking in the sight of the Sergeant lying on his back with his eye closed, hands still pressed against his midsection. Looking around the interior of the aircraft, he saw a first aid kit mounted on the wall near the wreckage that led to the cockpit. Unable to walk with his broken leg, he began crawling towards it. Knowing time was limited for the two men, he forced himself to move as fast as he could, carefully weaving his way through the bodies and debris on the floor of the aircraft.
When he reached the spot where the first aid kit was mounted he reached up and pulled on the box. It didn’t budge. Looking up at it, he saw a metal band holding it in its mount.
‘Duh,’ he thought, chiding himself.
Bringing his body next to the wall, he pushed himself upward using only his right leg. Standing next to the kit, he paused for a moment, catching his breath as he tried to summon more of his body’s reserves. He was exhausted from the fighting, the crash, and the loss of blood. The back of his head was bruised and swollen. His chin throbbed as it oozed blood.
Surviving Rage | Book 4 Page 36