The Rabid: Rise

by J. V. Roberts

  “Thanks.” She smiles weakly. “We probably need to get the hell out of here before more Rabid show.”

  There’s a cough and a gurgle near the storefront.

  We all turn at the same time.

  It’s Heath, clutching his stomach as a circle of blood spreads out beneath him, thick and dark, like a bucket of spilled paint. It builds in his mouth and exits violently with each cough and spasm, popping up into the air like a geyser before coming back down and speckling his face.

  “Jesus, sonofabitch is still alive,” Ruiz says, moving towards him ever so slowly. “Must have taken a round from one of the snipers. The .50 would have split his demented ass in half.”

  “Yeah,” I respond, as if I have a clue.

  Ruiz levels his sidearm at Heaths head. A grim look on his face. Intent on killing. On a little payback.

  Bethany turns into me, burying her face against my stomach.

  “Hey,” Katia grabs Ruiz by the arm and pushes the gun off target, “it’s not worth the bullet. Let him bleed out.”

  Ruiz reluctantly holsters his weapon and steps past Heath and over the broken glass and splintered wood of the demolished storefront. He peers into the darkened space and removes a tactical flashlight from his vest, clenching it with one fist beside his head and sliding the beam from side to side, illuminating the fallen shelves, scattered canned goods, and collapsed roof tiles.

  “Careful,” Katia urges as Ruiz crunches his way through the wreckage.

  “I got this.”

  I stand, holding Katia and Bethany on either side of me. “So, what do you see?” I ask after a few tense moments.

  “Looks like I found our guns and ammo. Tell the boys. Let’s get this shit packed up and get the hell out of here.”

  17

  “How’re you feeling?” Katia’s eyes look heavy. There is a bandage plastered to the side of her head. It’s bright white. Fresh. Unstained.

  “Like I got hammered in the side of the head by a rifle stock.” Her smile is weak, but genuine. She’s stretched out on the clubhouse couch with an old magazine propped across her chest. “What about you?”

  “I’m good. Nose isn’t broken. Just bruised and battered; I think I’m getting used to it.”

  “If you came looking for me to try to get some ass you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I’m not moving from here for the rest of the day.”

  “Jesus, no, I came to see how you were feeling.”

  She reaches out and grabs my hand. “Such a sweetheart. I just know how you virgins can be after your first go around. You wanna fuck like rabbits.”

  “Shit,” I hiss, kneeling down beside her, “can you please keep your voice down.”

  “Oh,” she laughs and puts a hand against my cheek, “he’s embarrassed. I’m sorry, Tim, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I’m just tired, that’s all I was trying to say.”

  “You could have just said it like that. You’ve always got to be so crude. Why can’t you just try being sweet? No profanity. No sexual innuendos. Just a sweet girl.”

  She laughs again, harder this time, wincing a little and pawing at her head. “Tim, have you met me?”

  I sigh. “Yes, Katia, I have.”

  She leans up a little and pecks me on the lips. “You’ll learn to love me. Sexual innuendos and all.” She grabs my hand and holds it against her chest, smiling. “So, is Bethany okay?”

  “Yeah,” I shrug, “she’s a little bit shaken up. She’s resting back at the apartment. I’m sure it’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure. It’s not the first person she’s killed, but she’s never gotten that close and personal, know what I mean?”

  “Totally,” she runs her tongue over her lips, “I still remember my first kill. It’s not pleasant. It gets easier though. Not sure if that’s really a good thing.”

  “Guess it depends on your reasons. If it’s them or you, then, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, what’s the prognosis on Tyrell?”

  The smile fades from her lips. “Well, he’ll live, but not sure how much that’s really worth. He’s not going to be doing much getting around without crutches.”

  I shake my head. “Damn, man, that sucks, really. That’s as good as dead around here.” She nods knowingly. “Yep, he’s taking it pretty hard.”

  “I bet.”

  She curls her legs up, allowing me to sit down next to her before spreading them back across my lap.

  “So, that call your brother made...” I trail off, letting the words linger, careful to broach such a sensitive topic.

  “It was sloppy, tried to tell him. He’s just so damn set on his path and where it is he wants to take us.”

  “Worry you at all?”

  “What the hell do you think? Of course, it worries me. He’s my brother. Aside from that,he’s in charge of this place. All of these lives. It worries me every day. We’ve just got to trust him.”

  “That’s just it,” I say, turning my head towards her, “we don’t just have to trust him. This isn’t a dictatorship.”

  “No one ever said it was.” She’s starting to sound a bit testy. “But, a crowd this large, you need leadership. Without leadership things turn into chaos.”

  “Things have already turned into chaos.”

  “You know what I mean, Tim. Don’t play word games.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You know,” she sits up and grabs my hand, a look of concern playing around the corners of her eyes, “things are good. They’re not perfect, but they’re good, at least compared to the alternatives. We have each other. We’ve got food and shelter, protection. We’ve beaten the odds. What are you trying to get at here?”

  She’s right. Things are better than they’ve ever been. Better than I ever thought they’d get again. Bethany and I somehow managed to break out of the constant spiral of shit. I should be happy. I should be...content, but there’s a gaping wound that, no matter how hard I try, just won’t seem to close. Needle and thread, superglue, prayers and chants, nothing seems to work; it just tears right back open again. It’s Momma. She’s still out there. Still waiting for us to come save her. “You’re right, Katia, everything...it’s better than I ever expected. Finding you, it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, and that includes back before all this, back when everything was still normal.”

  She smiles.

  “But, she’s still out there somewhere.”

  “Tim, you don’t...”

  “I don’t know that, yeah, I get it. There’s no guarantee, but if she is out there. If the General is keeping here alive, it’s because he wants what’s on that data stick. I gave it to your brother thinking that he could somehow help me and all he’s done is tried to turn it into his own little Pandora’s Box.”

  She reaches for my face and I lean beyond her touch.

  “No, listen to me. If Bytes manages to get this place back online, if he’s able to connect with whomever is listening out there and he dumps this shit on them, that’s it, for all of us. For my ma, because the General will have no motivation to keep her alive anymore with their secret out. It’ll be the end for this country, because the rest of the world will make sure we are a fucking crater. Your brother is not thinking long term. That’s what I was trying to say a couple days ago when he pulled a gun on me.”

  She crosses her arms and falls away from me. “So, what? What would Timmy do with it?”

  I shrug, as if it should be obvious. “I’d give it to the General. Let him destroy it. Or, if I can pop the bastard before handing it over, I’ll destroy it myself. That stick shouldn’t exist, no good can come of it.”

  “Just like that, you’d let them sweep it all away? Let them get away with all of this? No accountability?”

  “They’ve gotten away with it. Maybe you’ll hurt them by transmitting that data, but you’ll be killing any chance we’ve got of rebuilding the moment that button is pressed. That’s not revenge or justice, tha
t’s blowing yourself up in a crowd of innocent people and hoping that somehow you hit your mark. The damage is done. Let’s move forward and try to make something good out of it.”

  She looks across the clubhouse lobby at her blurry reflection in the face of the lifeless television, trying to blink away the tears. Her chin trembles with the effort. “Ruiz, he’ll never hand over that data.”

  “Then you need to help me convince him.”

  A single tear slides slowly down her cheek. She sniffs and shakes her head. “There’s no convincing him, Tim. He’s not going to do it. The things he saw...there’s a hatred burning in him. Only one thing is going to put that fire out and that’s broadcasting the truth. Tearing their fucking house down. I understand it...his...passion.”

  “Passion fueled by hatred can only lead to destruction; his, yours, these people...the world if he manages to pull off what he’s planning. You have to help me stop him.”

  Her sorrow turns to anger. “Really, Tim? So your passion to get the General, what’s that going to lead to?”

  “I want my Ma back. Killing him, yeah, it’d be a bonus. But, I’m not going to kill myself or get anyone else killed in the process. I’m happy to let him go on breathing at that price.”

  She’s quiet for a long time, looking through me. Finally, her face hardens and her eyes lock onto mine. “You won’t get me to turn on my brother,” she snaps. “That’s my blood, Tim. You’re with us or you’re against us.” There’s a little crack in her voice as she hands down her ultimatum. Nerves. Still, she steels herself up and sets her jaw, doing her best to look certain. Unwavering.

  I push her legs off me, and stand. “Then I guess I’m against you.” I turn my back and make quickly for the door. “It’s been swell, Katia.”

  “Fuck you!” She throws something at my back. It misses and bounces off the wall next to my head. It sounds hollow. Some inconsequential tabletop decoration, no doubt. Still, I wish it’d hit me. Anything to dull the pain burning in the pit of my stomach.

  ***

  Bethany is practicing her swordplay in the living room when I come through the front door of the apartment. She startles at my abrupt entry. “Damn, Tim, almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Yeah, listen, I need you to make sure you’re all packed up and ready to go by this evening.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Why?” She sheaths her sword and places her hands dramatically on her hips. “You and Ruiz have another lover’s spat? Have we been exiled, again?”

  “No, Bethany, this is voluntary.” I start moving across the floor towards my cot, gathering discarded pieces of clothing to stuff into my duffel.

  “Well,” she huffs, “maybe for you it’s voluntary. It’s shit to me. Why should I have to leave just because you can’t get along here? I like it here. There’s food and water. My chances of getting bitten by some drooling monster have gone way down.”

  I stand with a pile of clothes in my arms, a bit more out of breath than I should be. “Have you just totally forgotten about Momma? Or, do you not care at this point?”

  She’s taken aback. “What the hell? Of course, I haven’t forgotten. Of course, I care. Ruiz is helping us with that. He said he would help us.”

  “Yeah,” I drop the clothes on top of the cot and pull the duffel from underneath, “He says a lot of stuff. Maybe he’s got guys out looking, I don’t know. But what I do know is that he and that lab rat, Bytes, are going to get her killed when they upload what’s on that drive.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying they’re stalling us for time, placating us until they can complete their little master plan.”

  “But, you don’t know that for sure.”

  I throw the first batch of clothes into the bag with frustration. “No,” I sigh, “I don’t know that for certain. There are very few certainties in life. That’s why you use evidence and common sense. Just think, for one minute. Ruiz is not the most stable guy we’ve ever met and that’s saying a lot at this point. He’s pissed off. He’s already told us what he plans to do, right? He knows we’re against it. I mean, for Christ sake, he’s already pulled a gun on me over it. He wanted us gone, and fast, but he didn’t count on me saving Katia...so what, he feels a little obligation towards us over that, so he allows us to stay and he wards us off by saying he’s going to help us.” I throw the next batch of clothes in the bag, harder this time. “Whoopty-fucking-doo, it’s all words. All while he’s still arming his nuke and hoping we’ve forgotten about the implications. Well, I tell you what, I haven’t forgotten. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around this place on my ass doing nothing, nope, not one more day.”

  Bethany sits down on the cot, her back to me. “Okay, you’re right. It’s just...I got comfortable here, you know? It’s a nice change of pace from...well, everything we were doing before.”

  I place the final batch of clothes in the bag, gently this time, my aggravation quickly subsiding. “Yeah, I know. Me too, trust me.”

  “What about Katia?”

  “What about her?”

  “It’s obvious you two have gotten really close. That you really care about her. I mean,” she turns around with a mischievous little smile on her face, “your first girlfriend. Kind of a big deal.”

  In spite of everything, I can’t help blushing like a school boy. “Yeah, yeah, my first girlfriend. I care about her, sure. I’ll be lucky to find another girl like her, but I tried talking to her about this already. It didn’t exactly go well.”

  “How so?”

  “Ruiz is her brother. He’s blood. She’s not going to turn her back on blood. That’s something I understand. Momma, she’s out there and nothing is going to come between me and finding her.”

  Bethany reaches out and grabs my hand, swinging it gently back and forth between us. “Me neither.”

  “There is one problem though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That data drive. We’re not leaving here without it.”

  Bethany shakes her head. “How do you plan on accomplishing that?”

  “With your help.”

  “Okay...so what does that involve?” she asks, her voice dripping with dread.

  “I’ll walk you through everything. Don’t worry.” I reach into the duffel bag. “We are going to need this.”

  “Duct tape?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Duct tape fixes everything.”

  18

  It’s just after sunset when I start out across the complex, duffel bag over my shoulder, an HK Tactical USP .45 hidden away beneath my shirt with an 8-inch suppressor secured away in my back pocket. The sidewalks and small stretches of grass are empty, as they usually are during this time of the day. The windows and balconies of the complex are bathed in a romantic orange glow from the lamplight and candles beyond the glass. It’s achingly romantic, lacking only a light dusting of snow and a picture frame.

  I pass one of the guards out on patrol. He’s a familiar face, but his name escapes me. He nods as I pass by, stifling a yawn, seemingly uninterested in my affairs. To him, I’m simply a bored resident out for an evening stroll. My main concern is running into Ruiz or Katia. No doubt, Ruiz has caught wind of my dissatisfaction with the current leadership structure and I’ll be under more scrutiny from him than ever. And Katia, well, I’m sure she’d be very interested in knowing why I’m hustling my ass across the complex with a loaded pistol in my waistband at this time of night.

  I’ve thought of some possible excuses.

  Just out for a stroll.

  Trying to clear my head.

  Or, the most despicable of the bunch, I was just out looking for you.

  None of them would work. Katia is a girl with one hell of a bullshit meter. She’d know I was up to something. She may not know exactly what that something is, but she would eventually connect the dots and then I’d be screwed.

  This is a one shot deal. If something goes awry, if the winds aren’t blowing in my favor
, I’ll be exiled at best, or maybe even killed.

  Bethany too.

  I really hope she’s on schedule. If she’s not where she’s supposed to be, then it’s over and done. She’s the most important piece of this entire puzzle.

  I make it to the pool area and ease my way through the gate, pulling it open on its spring-loaded hinges and then easing it back into place once I’m on the other side. The clubhouse is blacked out. The curtains are pulled. The kitchen has closed for the evening.

  They’re about to get one last customer.

  I pull the roll of duct tape from the bag, biting off strips with my teeth and placing them across a small pane of glass near the door handle. It takes less than a minute. I leave a small circle uncovered at the center of the strips. I check that the coast is still clear, remove my pistol, and ram the butt against the small portion of glass left exposed. It’s damn near silent apart from a few small shards of glass sprinkling against the tile on the other side of the door like ice chips. I fold the square of broken glass and tape in a bundle and pull it through the empty wooden frame. I set it poolside and place the roll of tape back in the bag before reaching my hand through the empty frame to unlock the door handle.

  I can’t believe that worked.

  A kid at school had once bragged about how he’d broken into a local sandwich shop using that exact technique.

  I thought it was bullshit.

  It’s funny, the things that stick with you over the years.

  I’m careful to step around the glass once I’m inside and have shut the door softly behind me. There’s nothing moving in the shadows except for the shadows themselves. Drawn by the fierce moonlight. Manipulated by fickle gusts of wind.

  I stay low, breathing shallow, feeling my way across the floor and along the walls to the breakfast bar where I’d eaten my first meal with Katia. Everything has been picked up and wiped down for the evening. The faint smell of bleach wipes still hangs heavy in the air. I move around the bar, praying that the single door leading into the kitchen area isn’t locked.