The Rabid: Rise

by J. V. Roberts

  Ruiz slams his head back against the pump.

  They’d flanked us and gotten onto the roof.

  Rookie mistake on our part.

  One of us should have taken up the rear. We’d gotten so wrapped up in the horror show that we’d blanked out on the basics.

  “If you’re having trouble making a decision, I’ve got a few grenades in here that’d be happy to help the process along.”

  Ruiz looks to us, and nods. “Hey, it’ll be okay, put em’ down.”

  “No, they’ll kill us anyway, look what they did to those guys.” Katia crawls off my lap and comes to her knees, holding her swords like ski poles.

  “It gives us a chance. We’re not gonna win this fight.”

  “But at least we’ll get the chance to fight. I’m not getting bent across a stack of bricks and having my head dropped into a bucket, fuck that, they can shoot me!”

  “Is that bitch going to decide your fate?” The voice in the darkness sounds amused.

  “Oh, you sonofabitch!” Katia leaps to her feet, ready to rush the wall of flashlights and muzzles.

  I wrap an arm around her waist her pull her back down. “Listen to me,” I press my lips to her ear, “your brother is right. It’ll be okay. If they were going to kill us right off, they’d have done it.”

  “They want us to surrender so they can chop our heads off.” She struggles against me.

  I squeeze harder. “Stop it, just listen. We come out. We play nice. We wait for our opening and we take em’. We have a chance that way. This right here is a guaranteed loss.”

  She stops fighting and collapses against me. Craning her neck back and resting her cheek against mine. “If my head goes into that goddamn bucket I’m haunting your ass, believe that.” She kisses me and then drops the swords.

  Ruiz and I both follow suit, tossing our guns out from behind the gas pumps; our primary and secondary weapons.

  “We’re coming out. Easy on the triggers, fellas,” Ruiz says.

  “Hands behind your heads, all of you. Line up in a straight line in front of the pumps. No chitchat, no sudden movements or me and the crew will light you up like fuckin’ firecrackers.”

  The lights don’t move. They remain steady and strong. They watch us like some high tech monster as we line up like sheep...like flies beneath a giant swatter.

  Tyrell is last to the party. He comes up beside me, hands locked behind his head. Giant rings of perspiration soak the armpits of his gray long sleeved shirt. “Told ya’ll we shoulda gotten the fuck outta here. We’re screwed now, bruh. Bacon on the platter.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tyrell!” Ruiz shouts down the line.

  “I believe I told all of you to shut the fuck up.” The voice from the blackness is deep and firm, a man in control.

  We’ll see if his pitch changes when the guns are turned the other way.

  The lights begin to shift as their owners move from cover and begin to emerge from the darkness. Four lights. Four guns. Four men.

  Then there is the fifth one, still covering us from the rooftop, tracing each of us with the red laser attached to his rifle; he doesn’t move.

  “You folks wandered into the wrong part of town,” the man standing at the center of the group chimes with a baleful grin.

  He’s the voice in the darkness.

  He’s wearing a black silk peasant top unlaced around the neckline, blond sprigs of hair sprout from the opening like weeds. A black bandanna covers his head and his eyes are encircled by thick black makeup.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your Satanic mass,” Ruiz says flatly.

  The man in the ridiculous shirt breaks into a hearty bout of laughter. “The heads and the pentagram? No, that was Will.” He jabs a thumb at the man to his left. “Thought it’d be funny. This guy, lemme tell you about this guy. I caught him jerking it to gastric voyeurism once.”

  Will just shrugs and grins like a fat baby, happy to sit in his own shit.

  Curiosity pries my lips apart. “Okay, I’ve gotta ask, gastric voyeurism?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard?” The man in the ridiculous shirt takes a rather incredulous tone with me, as if I’m missing out on some piece of common knowledge, like the weekly top 40 or the theory of relativity. His mouth droops open, revealing a single gold tooth at the center of the bottom row. “Gastric Voyeurism is this Korean shit. Well, I mean it started in Korea, right, Will?”

  Will nods. “Yeppers.”

  Jesus Christ, he is a fat baby. A big fat dumb baby carrying a very big gun.

  “So, yeah,” the man in the ridiculous shirt continues, “it started in Korea. It’s spread over here though, you know, bitches doing anything to make a buck. Basically, what you do is pay to watch some bitch eat. In Korea, it’s like rice and kimchi and shit like that. Here, it’s bitches chowing down on hoagies and hot dogs.”

  “You sure do like using the word bitch a lot, rough home life? Mommy issues?” Katia sneers.

  “You know,” the man approaches her slowly, looking her over from foot to forehead, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Heath, like the candy bar, only sweeter.” He props his rifle back over one shoulder and slowly extends a hand, licking his lips, that gold tooth winking at us.

  Katia spits at his feet and raises her eyes defiantly, leaving her fingers locked behind her head. “I left my hand sanitizer at home.”

  “You mouthy...” Heath takes a swift step towards her.

  Ruiz charges. “Back the fuck off, or I swear to God, I’ll...” Will plants the barrel of his rifle in the center of his chest, forcing him back.

  “You’ll what? Huh?” Heath shakes dramatically, feigning intimidation. “What’re you gonna do?”

  Ruiz pushes against the barrel of Will’s rifle, burying it further into his chest. “I’ll rip your throat out. You better have your fat lackey pull that fucking trigger quick if you plan on taking another step towards my sister.”

  “And I’ll be right there with him.” I should have learned something back when I got the shit kicked out of me by Pastor Waters’ crew for smartin’ off at the mouth; don’t provoke men with guns.

  “Oh, you’ll be right there with him?” I see it coming, but I can’t do shit to stop it with my hands still locked behind my head. Heath sinks the butt of his rifle into my stomach, dropping me to my knees. He follows it up with a quick and nasty knee to the face. “Kind of like that?” He stands over me laughing. “Hey, you know what? Hit that sonofabitch in the face too.” Heath points to Ruiz.

  “Yessir.” Ruiz gets a jaw full of rifle butt from Will, the fat baby.

  He goes down hard. Groaning and spitting blood.

  Katia doesn’t say shit. She just acts. She steps to Heath with an impressive side kick, right to the gut, doubling him over. Before she can plant an elbow in his spine, the guy to his left drops her with a blow to the side of the head. She lands beside me, blinking rapidly, and trying to hold onto consciousness. I want to comfort her. To ask her if she’s okay. But I haven’t caught my breath yet. I’m still too busy rolling side to side and hugging myself.

  “You want some too?” Heath turns on Tyrell, limping, trying to shake off the pain from Katia’s boot heel.

  Tyrell doesn’t say anything, just looks away, and keeps his hands raised. He’s a fucking coward. A really smart fucking coward.

  “Listen man,” I flex my jaw back and forth, trying to work some of the feeling back into it, “I think we’re on the same side.”

  “Katia!” Ruiz comes up to his knees and starts crawling towards us. “Sis, are you...”

  Will hammers him between the shoulders and sends him sprawling to his face once more.

  “Ruiz, chill, she’s fine. Okay, I’m with her. She’s fine. Stay down!”

  “Listen to your friend, Ruiz,” Heath snickers. “We’ll shoot you in the gut and let you bleed out slow and painful. Will loves that shit. Gets him hard.”

  “Listen to me, okay, just one second,” I
say, trying to steer us back on course before the situation veers too far off the tracks. “We came here for the guns. Now, I’m guessing, since there isn’t a gun or bullet in sight that you guys came here for the same thing.”

  “You’ve got a future as a detective, lemme tell ya.” A chorus of laughter joins Heath.

  “My point is, first come, first served. You guys beat us here. Take the shit, just let us go. We’ve got no love for the guys you killed, we were planning on doing it ourselves. Not with all of the theatrics, mind you, but, nevertheless, they’d be dead.” There’s a tickle on my face. I sniff and wipe a thin line of blood away with the back of my hand.

  Heath nods. “Yeah, we came here for the guns. Also came here for the trucks, but one of those assholes decided to start chunking grenades.”

  “Yeah, they’ll do that.”

  “Here’s the problem.” Heath starts pacing back and forth, dictating his words with one hand. “My boys and I, we’re living shelter to shelter and hand-to-mouth. Now, I can’t help but notice you folks have some rather nice hardware. You’re rather clean. Your clothes are fresh. If I didn’t know better, I’d say ya’ll have got the hook-up, am I right?”

  Ruiz beats me to the punch. “No hook-up here, brother. We’re survivors, just making our way down the road, just like you.”

  Heath shakes his head. “Except, you’re not just like me. No, not at all.” He steps from me and over to Katia, staring down at her, examining her as she rolls to her back and attempts to shake away the cobwebs. “Where is it?”

  “Where’s what?” I ask.

  “Your home. Your base. Wherever the fuck you’re staying. Where is it located?”

  “Listen, bro, we don’t have a permanent locale. We’re transient, just like you,” Ruiz groans.

  Heath presses the barrel of his rifle against the side of Katia’s knee. “You get one strike. This isn’t a ball game and I’m not a patient man. You won’t get another.”

  “Hang the fuck on...”

  Will slams a boot down into the center of Ruiz’s back, forcing the air out of him and pinning him in place.

  “Dude, point it at me. Okay? Point that shit at me.” I sit up on my butt, keeping my hands in the open. I don’t want to provoke him, but seeing that rifle aimed at Katia...

  Heath swings his free hand behind his back and returns with a black pistol. “No worries, I’ve got one for each of you.” He drops the hammer. “Last fucking chance! Where are you staying?”

  “Listen...bro...” Ruiz gasps, struggling to catch his breath beneath the boot of the three-hundred pound baby “...we...don’t...”

  “Wrong answer.” Heath swings the handgun across his right arm and fires twice, blowing Tyrell’s kneecaps off and sending him plunging to the ground.

  His screams are unbearable. He rocks back and forth, clutching at the bloody holes where his knees used to be. Tears of agony drip steadily from the corners of his eyes, pinched shut against the searing pain.

  “You sonofabitch!” I tense up, my fingernails digging into the concrete.

  Ruiz drops his forehead to the ground, shaking from head to toe, overwhelmed by the thirst for blood.

  “Now,” Heath bends down and presses the scalding barrel right between my eyes, “hopefully that answers all the questions you have regarding how serious I am. Choose your next words very carefully.”

  The blood comes first. At least that’s how it seems to me. I know that, in reality, before there can be blood the bullet has to be fired. But by the time I register the gunshot, Heath is already stumbling backwards clutching his stomach and the back spray from the impact is sliding down my face like raindrops on a window. After that, it’s anarchy. Bullets flying overhead. Ripping apart the bodies of Heath’s mates and destroying what is left of the bullet riddled store front. I recognize the dull thrum of the .50. Will is cut directly in half. His torso spins one way and his legs go the other, leaving his entrails to slosh against the ground in a wet fleshy pile of pink and gray mess.

  It’s over as quickly as it started.

  I roll over to Katia. There’s a line of blood running from her scalp, behind her ear, and down her neck.

  “Are you okay, babe?” I prop her up in my lap, brushing her hair back, checking her for any other wounds.

  Her eyes flicker.

  “C’mon, talk to me.”

  She coughs, smiles and opens her eyes. “You called me babe.”

  I smile back. The bodies, the blood, and the caustic smell of gunpowder suddenly fade into the background. “I’ll have to work on pet names.”

  She shakes her head lightly, cringing a bit at the motion. “No, it’s fine. I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “I love it actually.”

  Ruiz scrambles onto his knees and rolls behind the gas pump to retrieve his rifle. “It’s our guys,” he announces. A Humvee rolls up beside the mutilated body of Will. I don’t recognize the gunner. He smiles down at me and winks, smoke still rolling off the barrel of the enormous killing machine he’s perched behind.

  A burst of automatic gunfire cuts through the air and the bullets spark off the roof of the Humvee, causing the gunner to drop back into his rabbit hole while raising the barrel of the mounted machine gun and firing blindly towards the convenience store roof.

  “Shooter on the roof! Active shooter still on the roof!” Ruiz slides from behind cover and returns fire. Three quick trigger pulls.

  Fuck! I’d forgotten about that guy. Katia is in no position to move. Tyrell is in so much torment I don’t know if he can hear a damn thing. If he can, he certainly doesn’t give a shit. He’s just clutching at his knees with bloody hands and seesawing back and forth, groaning.

  “Cover the roof!” Ruiz yells to the guy behind the .50.

  The man springs back up from his hole, takes his place behind the .50, and without missing a beat, starts laying into the roof with the high caliber rounds, shredding the wood and sending explosions of plaster springing up into the air and raining down onto the tops of our heads.

  Ruiz runs beneath the hailstorm of debris to the corner of the store, cursing wildly. He checks his sightlines and is about to cross to the back of the store when a very familiar voice calls out from above us.

  “Stop shooting! Stop shooting!” the voice screams.

  Bethany!

  “Stop, stop, cease fire!” I yell, signaling the gunner.

  Ruiz backs up, his gun aimed towards the voice overhead.

  “Bethany?”

  A head of tangled black hair and plaster slowly emerges from behind the lip of the roof. She has her hands raised above her head, one of them clutches her katana, and the blade is stained red. There is also a splash of blood dotting her blue bubble jacket.

  “Are you hurt?” I’m a little frantic, I admit. There’s blood all over my sister. Part of me wants to sling Katia to the ground and run up there to check on her.

  She shakes her head, rattled. Her lips are quivering. “It’s all from him. I killed him...I think.” She wants to cry. To throw up.

  With one thrust, the blade had lost its glamour.

  “Get down here girlie,” Ruiz says, lowering his rifle. “Come on over to the ladder, I’ll help you get down.”

  By the time Bethany makes her way around the building, Katia is up on her feet, wobbly, but moving under her own power. Two more men with long-range sniper rifles have approached the scene and are over by the Humvee chatting it up with the gunner, looking rather pleased with themselves. I run up to Bethany, grab the sword from her, and toss it to the ground. I open her coat and start checking her for wounds.

  “Tim, I’m fine. Back off a bit. I’m just shaken up.”

  “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” I step back, but not before brushing some of the plaster from her hair.

  “Hey, can you guys bring the med kit over,” Ruiz calls to the men by the Humvee. He’s kneeling down next to Tyrell, trying to appraise the extent of his wounds.

 
“What are you doing here? How the hell did you find us?” I ask. I’m trying to keep the edge out of my voice. After all, she just helped save our asses.

  “Me,” Katia says, moving up beside us, still rubbing at her head. “I told Bethany and some others where we’d be. I told them to give us a head start and then to move out after us. I told you, I didn’t like the idea of going at this with such a small group.”

  Katia. Of course. Should I be pissed? She just put my sister in the middle of a shootout. In the middle of this freak-show of decapitated heads and eviscerated bodies. Who am I though, right? Didn’t I once say there’s no room for boys in this fight?

  No children. No adults.

  Just survivors.

  Survive or die, right?

  There are no lines anymore. Innocence no longer exists. Trying to hold the blindfold to her eyes in the middle of all this shit, well, it’s a foolish errand. I should just be thankful that she came out on top. Thankful that Katia trained her right and thought two steps ahead. Thankful that the fat baby, Will, isn’t jerking off on my decapitated head.

  There’s a throaty growl over near the Humvee.

  Two Rabid are approaching from the other side of the store, probably attracted by the gunshots.

  The man on the .50 adjusts his sights as one of the snipers posts up on the hood.

  “No,” Katia says, as she calmly approaches, “don’t make the racket and waste the ammo.” She doesn’t get fancy about it this time. She windmills her swords around twice to loosen her arms up and walks directly into their path. They charge her. She buries a blade in the head of the one on the left and then gives him a quick kick in the side, dislodging her blade and sending him sprawling onto the grass, dead for good. The second kill goes just as smoothly as the first. She takes off half an arm as it grasps for her with long dirty claws and brings the other sword around to cleave the head in two.

  She walks back to me as calmly as she’d walked away, scraping the filth from her blades with the bottom of her boots before sheathing them.

  “Good call on the backup, sis,” Ruiz says, walking up behind Katia and wrapping his arms around her, while the two snipers continue tending to Tyrell’s knees.