The Rising

by Eli Constant

  The sound of a gun firing made me jump and I crawled to the other side of Marty to get a better look at what was happening in the main area of the RV. Frank was on the floor. He wasn’t moving. God, he wasn’t moving. Lucas’s face was a bloody, fleshy mess. The front of Reece’s short-sleeved, pale plaid shirt was spattered with vibrant, wet crimson. It wasn’t an attractive addition to the yellow and green pattern of the material.

  “That fucking dog. That fucking dog!” Lucas was looking at his reflection in the television.

  “You’ll patch up fine,” Reece turned away from Lucas and found me staring. “Oh, don’t worry, baby. We ain’t forgot about you.”

  Marty screamed. It was a sound that tried to die in his throat, but didn’t. It was the sound of a small animal facing a much larger predator. It was the sound you make when you know there’s nothing you can do. You’re helpless. Helpless and there’s nothing you can do. I wanted to scream right along with him.

  ***

  JUAN

  “I don’t want any trouble, man. I’m just having some problems I need to fix and I’ll be on my way,” I said the words calmly, but I also didn’t lower my weapon.

  “That so,” the man behind me said, his voice brooding and holding the hint of someone who was a lifelong smoker, “then you won’t mind dropping that pea-shooter on the ground and paying for what you need. I’m sure stealing is the way of things where you come from, but in this country, we believe in honesty.” His words were harsh and aged, rough around the edges like sandpaper. I was forming a picture in my mind. Average height. Somewhat portly. Greying hair and beard. A typical older Texan. Someone I could take down without a weapon if it came to that.

  “Yeah, I can do that. If you stop jabbing your pea-shooter into my back,” I said the words and simultaneously leaned down to place the .38 on the floor. He didn’t move with me to keep his weapon pushing into my body. I took that as a good sign.

  I’d been so focused on surviving zombies that I never once thought there may be other threats, threats of the human variety. And they’d laid low, expertly low, letting me walk into the store thinking there wasn’t anything to worry about. Fuck. I’d known some humans in my time that could rival the monsters. I was an idiot to let my memory lapse in that respect. I hoped I hadn’t just waltzed into a nest of those types of bastards. I still got nightmares sometimes.

  “Now what kind of problem could a pretty little rig like that one have?” the smoker spoke again. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could smell the nicotine clinging to his words, the way a tree marked its years by rings. His voice carried each cigarette he’d ever smoked, like a marker of the black lungs he carried around in his chest.

  I hadn’t stood back up and turned around to see if my mental picture matched the man in real life. I needed to, though, to see if I should be as confident as I felt that I could take him down. “Better yet, how did a filthy little wetback like you get a rig like that? Don’t look like the millionaire type. Did ya steal it, or just win the lottery?”

  Snickers rose like a nauseating chorus from behind me. Whoever the speaker was, he wasn’t alone. I’d known I could turn the situation around if I was facing one country bumpkin on a power trip. But from the sound of it, he had at least four friends. Maybe more.

  “I found it on the side of the road. The owners were…dead. Turned into one of those things.” I needed to buy time, time to think, time to do something. I didn’t want them to know that Sherry and Marty were in the van. And…shit…people like this, they’d probably shoot Frank on sight. they wouldn’t take a chance that the Rottie wouldn’t jump to protect.

  “Dead or not, that’s stealing and you were about to steal that hose from my store. You’re just another illegal taking advantage of the situation. Our fucking back yard’s full of you types thinking you can just take what you want. We’ve been killing them all week. I don’t think they’ll mind a new friend in the hole we dug out back. What do you think, boys?”

  “I think the hole’s still a little empty, Bobby,” a deep Texas drawl answered.

  “I figure you’re right, Reece.”

  I heard a shotgun action pump back and a round go up into the chamber; it was now or never. I fought and I won. Or I fought and I died. Simple as that.

  “Hey, Bobby,” it was a voice in the background. I froze in place not wanting to set off a chain of events while there was still a glimmer of hope that this could go less south and more north. “He said he was alone? I swear I just saw movement. Not sure though. Damn sun’s so bright on the glass.”

  ‘Bobby’ prodded the barrel of his shotgun into my ribs; I couldn’t stop the wince of pain as it pushed past my teeth. I shifted my body so that I could see who I was dealing with. Hell, if I was going to die. I wanted to look the reaper in the damn eyes. I almost laughed. He looked damn close to what I’d come up with in my head. Except he wasn’t grey haired. It looked like he’d slathered his head and beard with black shoe polish. It was greasy and shiny. I could imagine the oil it would leave on your hands if you touched it. “Who the hell else is in that rig, boy. You better tell me right now or I swear I’ll dump a round into you.”

  I could tell by his voice he wasn’t bluffing. I had to convince him. “Nobody’s in the RV; I’m an American just like you. Texas born and bred,” I lied through my teeth. “I’m in the business of surviving, that’s it. Plain and simple.”” The shotgun jabbed me in the gut again

  “I think you’re lying, boy.” Bobby poked me again, harder this time. It was going to leave one hell of a bruise.

  “I’m not—” But before I could finish, a leg kicked out and caught me in the back, sending me forward hard. I slammed into the floor, my .38 beneath me. The idiots hadn’t thought to pick it up after I’d set it down. I tried to tuck myself around it and see if I could slide it into the waist of my pants without anyone noticing. “Fuck,” I stammered, the pain coming on in a breath-stealing wave. The .38 shifted, scratching against the floors.

  “Shut your damn mouth! Filthy fucking, beaner.” The foot that had connected with my back kicked once more, catching me in the hip this time. It rolled me sideways, revealing the weapon. Bobby gave a grim smile and leaned down to pick it up. “Won’t be needing that,” he said, then turned to his men. “Lucas, get out there and see if he’s telling the truth. Take Reece. Maybe he’s protecting someone. Maybe a woman. Be damn nice to have a piece of ass around here while the world’s falling apart.”

  The realization of what he’d said rolled over me in an instant and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Wait a second. I told you. There’s no one—” Something blunt and hard caught me in the back of the shoulders and knocked me to the ground.

  “You’re working awful hard to protect an empty vehicle,” Bobby spat. “Pick up this piece-of-shit wetback and throw him in the beer freezer. If he opens his mouth again shut it, permanently.”

  I was yanked to my feet by rough hands, a pair on each side. I could now see the group. Eight of them including Bobby, the leader. Only two were going out the door and heading to the RV. Lucas and Reece. I committed those names to memory. If they hurt Sherry or Marty…if they hurt Frank…I’d find a way to kill them. There’s no way that Sherry was going to be able to shoot them both. She’d been doing okay with the guns, but there’s only so far memories of hunting with your dad will go. God, and one of the men was a veritable fucking giant.

  For a second, the mental image of what it would mean to have a woman at the end of the world pushed through my brain. I wouldn’t let them abuse her. I wouldn’t let them turn her into a perpetual rape victim.

  I intentionally stumbled and dragged my feet. The men holding me almost fell, but they disappointingly maintained their footing. Finally, I got an idea.

  “Hey, Bobby?” When I spoke, the men carrying me paused. I tried to sound as taunting as I could. As cocky and confident as possible while being manhandled.

  “I told you two to kill that son of a bitch if he opened his m
outh again,” came Bobby’s hard answer.

  “You could have them kill me or you could take me outside before your two boys blow themselves to bits. You think I’d leave a rig like that without making sure it was safeguarded? I don’t let people steal from me, even if it’s shit I’ve stolen myself.”

  “What the fuck you talking about, boy?” Bobby moved around the two men dragging me to the beer freezer so that I could see his face. It was set in deep wrinkles, a sculpture where the sculptor got a little too happy with the carving knife. “I think you’re lying to protect whoever the fuck you left behind in that RV, boy.”

  I was really getting annoyed with him calling me ‘boy’. The racial slurs I could deal with. Hell, I can kill a can of refried beans. The ‘boy’ thing grated, though. It wasn’t so much the word, but the way he said it. Like I was only suited for pulling in crops for cash under the table.

  “Suit yourself,” I shrugged. My gaze drifted towards the front of the store. The tint seemed to be one way, so I could see everything going on outside. Lucas and Reece were entering the RV.

  “He’s bluffing. Take him out back and put a bullet through his fucking brain. We’ve got no use for his type.” Bobby turned away from me to stare at the RV. Regardless what he said, he was worried that I wasn’t lying.

  The two men began to drag me in a different direction, away from the walk-in beer freezer and towards a back door that was propped open. I could see a pit in the near distance. A mass grave.

  Just as they were about to push me out the door in front of them, a gunshot sounded. Everyone froze, silence filling the store.

  “Fuck,” Bobby breathed out. “Come on. Bring that illegal shitbag with us.”

  The seven of us—me once again being manhandled by two of the men—rushed out into the hot Texas day. The front door was still opened from my entry. I tried to slow me and my two captors down, but they kept lifting me off the ground each time I forced a stagger. It was demeaning to be a grown ass man and have two other grown ass men lift you like you weigh nothing. They hadn’t done that the first time I’d stumbled, but that time had been a surprise.

  God, I just needed a few meters of space. Just a few seconds so I could deal with the two holding me and hopefully get my hands on a weapon. I did have a weapon, I realized. They hadn’t searched me. They hadn’t found the ASP, despite the very tip sticking out of my pocket. I was grateful that the baton was so small when undeployed.

  I couldn’t get enough space between me and the two men and the other four. Soon, we’d be at the RV and they’d have two more to bolster their ranks. Unless the gunfire had been Sherry killing one. A guy could dream.

  Just as I was steeling myself to fight and kill or injure as many of the men as I could, a high-pitched whine of pain, screams, and a scattering of cuss words slammed into my body. This time my stagger wasn’t on purpose. Within the mass of noise, I could hear the distinct sounds of two men. So neither of Bobby’s boys were dead. Did that mean Sherry or Marty or…

  I cut my mind off mid-thought. No, they were fine. No one was dead.

  I was angry, more than I ever had been before. A commotion sounded from the other side of the RV. The side with the door that faced the pumps.

  Just a little while ago, Sherry had been on the opposite side of the vehicle. She’d stood in the window pressing her palm to the glass. I don’t know why I didn’t wave back. I should have waved back.

  I’d never felt more rage in my life when I saw those vile humans dragging Sherry and Marty around the front of the big RV kicking and screaming. The only satisfaction I had was seeing that the one named Lucas was holding his bleeding face. Frank had “taken a bite out of crime”, literally. But where was the Rottie now? I couldn’t see any visible gunshot wounds on the two men or on my companions. They’d shot Frank.

  I knew it was the truth. My gut wasn’t wrong often.

  “Damn cunt had a fucking dog in there,” the words coming from Lucas’s now deformed face were thick with blood, like he was speaking through water as he swam. His bloody shirt stuck to his body in places, revealing more fat than muscles. Before, all I’d seen was a towering man. Now, I could see that he was slightly soft beneath the material of his clothes. I liked an enemy that had more meat than muscle. It made it easier to damage the organs with a careful strike.

  “Have Big John look at it. You should have been more careful.” Bobby’s voice was dismissive and I could see Lucas’s face contort with anger. It was odd to see, his features mangled and coated in red.

  In all the chaos, I hadn’t taken in the details of all the other men. My eyes widened as I focused and watched one of the biggest black men I’d ever seen walk over to look at the gaping wound on the trucker’s face.

  “The dog did a lot of damage. Probably gonna lose an eye,” Big John’s words carried easily to everyone around the RV, despite the fact that he spoke softly and with a thrum through his words that made me think of a cat’s purring. It was too nice a sound. Too rich and full to belong to someone in this truck stop gang. “I’ll stitch it up, but it ain’t gonna look pretty.”

  Lucas leaned into the large man, exuding menace even though he was at least four inches shorter than John. “I don’t want to lose an eye, you worthless piece of shit. You sew it up right or you’re fucking out of here. You can walk your way straight to hell. We only tolerate you because you got some skill and can patch a man up. Don’t be thinking you’re one of us.”

  “Without me, three of you’d already be dead.” John seemed to rise up higher, stretching his body to take advantage of every inch. He now stood five inches higher than Lucas. I’d gotten the impression that John was subservient to the other men, but now I was sure that impression was wrong. Lucas was just one of those assholes who saw color before merit.

  “Lucas,” Bobby snapped, “I told you, if you can’t get your head out of your ass you’re gone. It was the truth when I said I’d pick Big John over you. You’re big and not bad with a knife, but we need a nurse maid more than we need another fighter.”

  I didn’t expect the words from Bobby of all people, who seemed to have it out for anyone of Hispanic origin, but that made me realize his personality even more fully. He was a survivor, first and foremost. He wasn’t going to lose a man with a medical background for another man who was relatively replaceable.

  During the exchange, the man named Reece had been holding Both Sherry and Marty’s wrists. He must have been holding them hard, because his knuckles had gone white as Sherry’s skin. And Marty’s face was screwed up in pain.

  “Hey, you don’t have to be so rough with them. They’re not going to try and get away.” I looked pointedly at Reece as I said it. One corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed. He was about to say something, something we’d both regret I was sure, when Bobby spoke again.

  “So, you’re all alone. No family. No one in the RV. You seem to have a short memory, wetback.” The smile which came across his face was terrifying as he stepped closer. “Gonna cost you dearly. When I’m done beating the shit out of you I’m gonna let you watch as we have a little fun with your cute little Taco Shell over there.”

  “I’m Puerto Rican, fuck face. And you won’t touch her,” I snarled. It was the wrong thing to say.

  Bobby’s arm moved, his fist rising up to find my face. I rotated my body, moving faster than he could because of my training. Snapping my own arm up, I drove the base of my fist into Bobby-boy’s nose. Like a sack of potatoes thrown off a dock worker’s shoulder, he fell to the ground. A layer of dust that had settled over the concrete swirled about him. His eyes were closed. His nose bleeding.

  “Mother fu—” one of the men rushed forward, not finishing his expletive. I was still moving and he was close enough for me to continue the rotation of my punch to open hand hit the new assailant’s neck like the blade of a knife. Albeit, a very dull knife. He grunted, but it wasn’t quite enough to stay his movement. I cocked my arm back once more, keeping my fingers tigh
tly pressed together, and I rushed my hand forward once more.

  This time I felt my knuckles compress on impact and felt my nails dig into the softer flesh of the front of his neck. The sudden and violent impact to his jugular and carotid caused his eyes to roll back until all that could be seen was the haunting white. It was ghostly and disturbing. By the time he collapsed, two more men rushed forward. And Bobby was recovering.

  I turned my body sideways, positioning my feet for balance. Two against one. It wasn’t a situation I’d never faced before. That didn’t mean it was easy or I liked it.

  They approached me simultaneously, coming in at about forty-five-degree angles. The one on the left, a slim but athletic man with stormy eyes, was opening and closing his hands. It was a nervous movement. I didn’t think he had much experience and he looked younger than the other men. I’d handle him second. The other man, with the way he moved confidently and the hardened shadowy gaze that seemed to eat through me, was the bigger threat.

  I was about to strike, deciding on a roundhouse to the confident man’s solar plexus, when something slammed into my back so hard that I fell violently forward. I managed to fling my hands out, palms down, and keep my head from impacting the hard ground.

  A third man.

  Bobby, Lucas, Reece, Big John and four more. There’d been eight. I hadn’t been paying close enough attention. I’d lost count. Dammit.

  Once I was on the ground, the beating began. I had moments of lucidity, when boots weren’t kicking at me, that allowed me to see my surroundings through a pain-hazy blur of colors melting together like crayons left too long on a hot sidewalk. Bobby was up, blood trickling out of his nose, bruises beginning to sprout around his nostrils to spider web onto the sagging skin beneath his eyes. If he’d been mad before, he was stepped-on rattlesnake pissed now.

  The kicking with pauses of stillness seemed to go on forever.