It was the depression that had saved her life, ironically. She had already accepted that her savings were almost gone and made plans to return to work. The Rage had struck four weeks before her planned return. Had she been on duty in the ER she would have almost certainly been infected. After months of hiding in her own home, subsisting on peanut butter, jam, crackers, and canned goods, she wondered if she would have been better off the other way. Her mother had two big twenty five pound bags of rice and a forty-pound bag of dried pinto beans stored on the top shelf of her pantry. Sharon had been subsisting on the food for the last three weeks, and there was only enough left to last her a week or less. When that was gone, she would be forced to go outside and find more. The thought terrified her.
Sharon had sat terrified in her house on numerous evenings and watched the roving bands of infected people through a slit in her blinds. She observed their animalistic tendencies and total lack of humanity. Before the television broadcasts stopped, she had watched videos of the crazed crowds swarming on uninfected people and literally tearing them to shreds. Death was one thing, but dying in such an agonizing manner was unthinkable to Sharon. So was the thought of being dragged off to be raped and dehumanized.
Sharon heard gunshots outside on many occasions and, at first, she was excited because she thought it was coming from government sources fighting to take back the town. Then she was confused because some of the shots sounded like a gun battle between two sides. She eventually figured out that it was just individual people fighting to survive against the infected and the lawless marauders who were taking advantage of civilization’s downfall.
Sharon was wearing her mother’s old watch on her wrist. The time read seven P.M. and the light coming through the curtains had now dimmed to the point where it was too dark even to read. She rose and unsuccessfully searched the house again for a flashlight. Reading was the only thing she had now to distract her from the horror that the world had become. Sharon refreshed the washcloth in the bucket and replaced it on her neck. It was going to be a long night and a boring one. But tomorrow was going to be different. Tomorrow she was going to wait for noon when the daylight was at its brightest, and the Ragers were least likely to emerge from hiding and Sharon was going to find someone…anyone. She would accept whatever else befell her, but she could no longer tolerate the darkness and isolation.
✽✽✽
Lobo sent word for Arturo to join him at the armory locker. The big man shook his head as he walked and wondered what the genius madman had in mind now. In Arturo’s opinion, things were going well lately; amazingly well under the circumstances. Lobo’s quick reaction to the sickness that was coursing through the population around them had saved almost the entire gang and their families. By isolating them in the armory hangar and barracks facility, he had spared them from almost certain infection.
But Arturo had grown concerned at the tactics Lobo was employing lately. With so much of the population infected, there was plenty of food for the other survivors hiding out there. The Ragers seemed to be feeding themselves by consuming whatever they stumbled upon. So far they had not displayed any ability to target grocery stores or warehouses in the area or employing tactics with which to acquire the food within. That meant there was much food out there and some of it was going to waste now that the power was failing in some of the grids. Arturo had two little girls living here in the barracks with him and his old lady. They were Arturo’s reason for living. When he was at the Costco on the previous day, he observed hundreds of gallons of milk and other dairy products sitting in the display cases and the refrigerated areas in the back of the store. The Costco went dark yesterday, and most of that milk was now going to spoil. It was so much more than the gang could consume in time, but Lobo was refusing to distribute it to the survivors in the neighborhood.
Arturo knew he was not a leader. He had long regarded himself as a beta-type of man. The big Segundo was good at implementing the plans of people who were in a leadership position and could do it efficiently. If Lobo needed something done, he went to Arturo and walked away knowing he would carry it out successfully.
But…if he was a leader he would be doing things differently. Arturo could perceive no reason to be victimizing the other survivors around them. Arturo would be bringing them into the armory or finding a place where they could live in safety, maybe even put the Mojados in a position of protecting them. That way they could grow their numbers and increase their possibility of surviving. The Mojados had the National Guard weapons, but they had very few people with military experience. There were weapons in the armory that the gang members had no idea how to operate. Arturo was sure there were military veterans among the survivors and having them on their side would be a considerable advantage.
Lobo’s second-in-command turned a corner and spotted his leader standing inside the steel cage that made up the arms locker for the Guard. He was grinning and had his hands on his hips. He noticed Arturo and beckoned him forward.
“I’ve been looking at these things!” He pointed at a rack of tubes upon which were affixed pistol grips and semi-circular braces. Arturo and everyone else knew they were some kind of rocket launcher, but no one knew how they worked or had been able to locate any ammunition for them. “They’re not much different from single-shot shotguns. You just open the back, pop in a rocket, close it, secure it, then just aim and pull the trigger.”
He pulled one of the weapons from the rack and handed it to Arturo. The big man made a show of examining the hinged door on the back of the launcher and nodded. Arturo had already discerned as much himself, but he acted as if his boss’ theory was a significant discovery.
“Yeah, I think you have it figured out, Jefe. Good job. Too bad we don’t have any rockets for it.”
Lobo gave him an especially evil-looking grin. “Follow me.”
The diminutive leader stalked out of the weapons locker and through the hangar door with his hands hanging at his sides like an old west gunslinger. Lobo led Arturo along a paved pathway until it ended at a large Quonset hut. The sides and back of the construction had been covered with dirt and grass and had a single door at the front which was secured by a formidable looking lock. He pointed at the door and looked to his Segundo.
Arturo examined the door and the big lock. There were a keyhole and a thick metal bar which would swing open once it was unlocked, allowing access to the hut.
“You got the key, boss?”
“Not the actual key but I got a key.” He pointed back toward the hangar. Arturo looked and saw two of their members wheeling an acetylene/oxygen set in their direction. The two large cylinders were strapped to a hand truck, and they rattled and bounced as they drew near. The two members were wearing the ridiculous military uniforms that Lobo insisted they all wear now. Except for him.
“Miguel used to be a welder,” Lobo advised him.
They stood back as Miguel opened the valves and sparked the device to life. Arturo almost cautioned his leader that the hut gave every appearance of being a storage facility for explosives. The use of the torch might not be the smartest thing to do, but he didn’t voice his concerns. Lobo had a look in his eyes that he had seen before. Nothing was going to deter the leader of the Mojados, so Arturo waited with his hands in his pockets and prayed they didn’t all go up in a big fireball.
Miguel cut the locking bar in two places; one above the keyhole and the other beneath it. The two pieces swung to the side and slammed into the edge of the door. There was a strong latch under the locking bar, and Miguel grabbed it and pushed down.
The door swung open.
Lobo pulled a small flashlight from his vest pocket and aimed the beam into the interior of the hut. He played the light back and forth, side to side, then he switched it off.
He turned back to Arturo, and he smiled a unique type of smile that the big man had never seen on anyone else.
✽✽✽
Jimmy and Buck helped me load up supplies in the Bronco and the
Suburban. I had just gotten back from the gas pumps which were located about three hundred yards away on the eastern side of our hilltop property. We were gassed and ready to go when Pops came out carrying his rifle and wearing full battle rattle. Marie and Emma were standing off to the side talking. They were also fitted out in combat gear.
Marie had spent eleven years as a police officer in Florida and Emma had served fourteen years in the army. Both had advised Pops they were experiencing cabin fever and urged him to take them on our next trip into town.
This time we brought more ammo than the last couple of times. After learning of the existence of the Mojados and how they were putting a stranglehold on available food, Pops and the Major both felt the local survivors needed to be able to mount an effective defense against the gang.
Once everyone was ready, we started piling into our vehicles. Jimmy, the Major, Emma, and Marie were taking the Suburban while Pops, myself and Buck were in the Bronco. I was starting to wonder what we were waiting for when Gayle came out carrying a big canvas bag and a weapon that looked like an overgrown single-shot shotgun. She passed both objects to Buck through the open tailgate and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. Buck arranged his new burdens and signaled his readiness with three pats on the side of the truck.
With Buck wanting to sit in back and man the M-240 this time, I was free to ride next to Pops. I carried my M4 and Glock, and I noticed Pops had left his M4 behind in favor of a Springfield Armory M1A. The bigger rifle fired the more powerful .308 round and had a much longer range, especially with the high-powered scope Buck had on it.
As soon as we started out following our winding trail down the back side of the hill, I turned around and shouted so Buck could hear me. “What kind of weapon was it that Gayle brought you?”
The ex-Marine scooted around so he could face me and held up the gun. It was shorter than a standard M4, had an expansive barrel and what looked like an overgrown cylinder attached to the front, much like on a revolver but larger. “This here is an RBG-6 grenade launcher. It’s semi-automatic, can shoot six grenade rounds as fast as you can pull the trigger and fires high explosive, incendiary or smoke grenades.” He patted the barrel and smiled. “This weapon saved my bacon more than once in Afghanistan. It’s like carrying your own personal artillery battalion along with you.”
I turned to Pops. “I didn’t know we had one of those.”
Pops shrugged. “Actually, son, we have four.” He turned his head to give me a mischievous grin.
I was a bit taken back. I just assumed Pops, and I had no secrets from each other. I wondered what else he had kept from me.
We rumbled down the back mountain trail until we hit the dirt path and eventually the paved road into Clovis. Pops had informed us he wanted to check on the two small groups of survivors we had already located and also to try and connect with others who might be out there struggling.
We turned on Locan and hit the road that paralleled Shaw Avenue. We stopped at the end of the street and waited. A few minutes later we were pleased to see Caleb Snow come out of his house and wave at us. We pulled forward and climbed out. Buck, Jimmy, Emma and I took up defensive perimeter positions while the rest of our party interacted with the Locan group who were coming out to greet us.
The women of the Locan group surrounded Marie, and Pops and the Major were involved in obtaining intelligence regarding the local situation. I heard Caleb mention something about the electricity being out. That would certainly make things less pleasant for everyone, but they all seemed to be happy. These people were successfully taking everything in stride.
I felt someone tug on my load-bearing-vest and turned to see a pretty girl about my age. She had light blonde hair that had been sun bleached almost white on the ends. Her big blue eyes sparkled when she smiled at me, and my sixteen-year-old heart jumped just a tad.
“Hi,” she said sweetly. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, I’m Virgil.”
“Virgil? I’ve always liked that name. What are you doing over here by yourself?”
“Well, I’m keeping up a security perimeter while my father talks to Mr. Snow.”
She smiled even bigger showing perfect white teeth. “Oh. So you’re protecting us. That’s nice.” She paused a moment. “I’m Danielle. My folks call me Danni.”
“Yeah, well…it’s nice to meet you,” I stammered. It really was nice to meet another person that was my age, but I was unsure what to say to her or what she wanted. Plus, I knew Buck would be watching to make sure I did my job and wasn’t distracted. He could give a butt-chewing that would embarrass a pirate.
Danni pointed to where Pops and Mr. Snow were talking. “Caleb Snow is my father. He told me you people seem to be nice. We all were glad to see there were others out there hanging on.”
I pulled my glance away from my area of responsibility to read her face, then shifted my eyes back. “Yeah, it was the same with us. You’re the second group we’ve found. That’s what we’re doing today, looking for other survivors and seeing if we can help get them equipped to hang in there.”
“That’s so nice of you.” I could hear her words, but I was trying not to look away from the scene in front of me. “I hope you come back, Virgil. Maybe you can talk more next time instead of being on guard duty.” I risked a glance at her face. She wore a sad smile. “There are only three other teens in our group. Two are girls, and one is Perry Ballard. He’s kind of a creep. Thinks he’s hot because he’s the only boy our age.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just kept quiet. Danni waited for a moment, or two then sighed.
“Well…good bye, Virgil. It was nice meeting you. Please come back and see us.”
“Yeah, I’ll try. Nice meeting you too.”
And then she was gone, and Pops was calling for us to saddle up. I walked past Buck on my way to the Bronco.
“Uh Oh,” he teased. “Be careful there, Tiger. Pepper might have a few spies among us.”
I started to defend my actions and tell him I hadn’t done anything wrong but Pops had reached us and he jumped into the driver’s seat while I slid in next to him. Buck chuckled and climbed in back.
Pops started us up and waved as he drove off. All of the people in the Locan group waved at us. Danni was on my side of the street, and she gave me one of her dazzling smiles as we passed. I smiled back. For some reason, I felt a little guilty.
Pops caught us up on what Snow and the others told him while we were keeping watch. “So…they are still doing well even though the power is now off. Packs of infected still come through their neighborhood some nights but, so far, none of them have been alerted to the presence of the Locan group.” He shook his head. “I can’t help but think their luck is going to run out in that area eventually. But anyway, we gave them a few cases of .22 long rifle ammo and some more .556/.223 for their M4s and Mini 14s. They still insist they are fine with their food stores, at least for right now.”
We took a winding and circuitous route through some of the back roads on our way to where the brothers, Marcus and George lived. We were hoping to find more survivors in the smaller housing projects along the way, but none showed themselves.
We reached Ashlan Avenue, and Pops turned west. We pulled into the street where they lived and just stopped. No one came out to greet us, so Pops grabbed the microphone for the mounted CB radio and made sure it was on the agreed-upon frequency.
“Panther, this Dragon. Panther, Dragon. You there?” Pops was using the call signs they had arranged during our last meeting.
There was a short wait then George’s voice boomed out. “Dragon…is that you out there?”
“Yep, it’s us. Anyone home?”
“Just a sec.”
The radio went silent, and a moment later the door opened on the house in which the boys resided. Marcus stepped out first, followed by George. I slid out of the Bronco and was surprised to see three young women coming out of the brothers’ house. One of them was carrying an
infant on her hip.
I observed George coming at me with the apparent intention of subjecting me to one of his rib-crushing hugs. I was braced for it this time, so he only succeeded in bruising them. His brother was a bit gentler with me. It was genuinely uplifting to see that this little community of survivors was still hanging in there. Doors were opening all along the narrow, tree-lined street and people were peeking cautiously out of their windows at us.
Since we were bordered on two sides by the lines of houses, Buck decided we only needed two sentries. He assigned those duties to Jimmy and Marie, freeing me to mingle and meet the people here.
I put an arm on Marcus’ shoulder. “Is it just me or do you have a lot more people here now?”
The ex-National Guardsman grinned and waved at the street with one hand. “Sure do! George and I have been sneaking around in the daytime, looking for guns, food, and people. We hit the homes of all of our old friends and found a few of them that weren’t infected. We also found a few other people. Some of the women have babies and were almost starving when we found them. We brought them in and put them in some of the empty homes here on our street.”
I was impressed. With the group’s food stores at a comfortable level, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had decided just to hunker down and keep a low profile. Instead, they had taken it upon themselves to give aid to those who needed it.
Pops and the Major came up to us, and we all made small talk for a while. Eventually the Major got down to brass tacks.
“I see you have a few more people. How many do you think you have here and how many can help you defend your territory if the need should arise?”
Marcus turned to George and indicated he should answer. “We have a total of forty-six people now. That includes women, children, and infants. If we had to defend ourselves against an attack, we have twenty-nine men and women that are capable of fighting. Maybe one or two others but those are iffy.” The elder brother put his hands in his pockets and smiled broadly. “We have four ex-military with us now. Two were army, one was a marine, and one was navy.”
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 11