The Rabid: Rise

by J. V. Roberts

  “What do I do? Tim? What do I do?” Bethany is patting the wheel, in a full blown panic.

  Two guys are approaching us from the back gate with rifles. They look perplexed, but they still manage to crack smiles as they come up on our windows.

  The guy on Bethany’s side is wearing a blue beanie and has a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. He bops his knuckles once against the glass as white smoke escapes from his nostrils in brief spurts, like miniature cannons going off on either side of his face. “Wind’er down.” The tone in his voice gives off the impression that this is just another boring chore in a long line and he’s anxious to get it over with.

  Bethany looks to me for direction.

  “Go ahead, it’s fine.”

  She presses the switch and the motor in the door whines as the glass descends and disappears from view. I follow suit with mine, dropping it all the way, keeping the gun propped between my knees.

  “Ruiz didn’t say nothing about anyone goin out tonight. Ain’t no one supposed to go beyond the gate after nightfall.” The man in the beanie removes a flashlight from his belt and blasts us with it.

  I clear my throat nervously. “Yeah, it’s a last minute sort of deal.”

  “Where to?” the man in the beanie asks, growing more suspicious by the second.

  Bethany looks at me intently, hyperventilating, her eyes wide.

  “It’s a...uh...food run. You know, we’re running low and...”

  The man in the beanie cuts me off. “I haven’t heard anything about supplies bein’ low. I’s over there today, everything looked healthy.”

  “Ain’t heard nothin’ about no food run neither,” the man on my side pipes up.

  “Well...like I said, it’s...”

  “Nah, kid, we’re gonna have to call this in. Come on and get out,” the man in the beanie says.

  “Open it up.” The man on my side wraps his fingers around the door handle.

  I cock back and elbow him in the nose. It crunches with the impact. “Lean back!” I yell. Bethany does as commanded and I fire three shots at the head of the man in the beanie. He drops to the pavement, the bullets just missing their mark and spiraling into the brick walls of the apartment building behind him. “Step on it!”

  She slams the gas pedal and barrels towards the closed gate.

  Bullets begin plinking against the body of the Humvee and deflecting off of the bulletproof glass.

  “Ram it!”

  She plows through the gate, knocking it right of its tracks and dragging it under the tires. It grinds and sparks against the pavement as we cut across the intersection. Bethany jerks the wheel hard left and sends the detached gate spinning off violently into a parking lot across the street.

  The crack of gunfire quickly fades behind us as the two men begin calling for help.

  God, Ruiz is going to be pissed.

  However, that’s not my concern now. Let him fume. Let him come up with some other insane plot to damn all of humanity. At least, I won’t be a party to it.

  Bethany switches the headlights on, bathing the road in a silver glow as I watch the complex disappear in the rearview.

  19

  We take shelter in a partially collapsed parking structure. After extinguishing the engine and settling in a bit, we crack open two cans of vegetables for a quick evening snack.

  “So, what’s the big plan, Tim?”

  “I’m still working on that.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t figure something out before you blew Bytes’ head off and pretty much ruined the only good thing we had going in our lives?”

  I hold my fork up, impaled green beans dangling precariously from the end, dripping juice onto my lap. “Give me a break, okay. I don’t need to hear this shit.”

  “You rip me from the only peace I’ve had in months and drag me back into hell and now you’re telling me that we don’t have any plans? That we’re just pulling all of this out of our asses? You expect me to just shrug my shoulders and go, okay, Tim? Guess what? This shit isn’t okay, Tim! Aren’t you the one that said we shouldn’t just go tossing ourselves into conflict unless we’re ready for it? I listened to you, you ass! I’m telling you, we’re not ready. We’re just floundering around, again!” She kicks the underside of the dash.

  “You know what, if you don’t like it, feel free to hop out and walk back.”

  She looks at me, flabbergasted. “Really? You’d let me walk back in the dark? In the cold? With God knows what lurking in the shadows?”

  I plop the green beans into my mouth and start rounding up another forkful. “Yeah,” I swallow, “at this point, I would. Do you think Momma is comfortable right now? Weren’t you the one that gave me the big speech about how she wouldn’t just leave us out there. Now look at you. You got comfortable and so now, what, you just want to forget about her?”

  She shakes her head and turns her can of beans in her hands, the plastic fork rattling against the sides. “That’s not fair.” The volume of her voice lowers considerably. “Not fair at all. Do you think she’d want us out here like this or do you think she’d want us safe? Those words sound familiar?”

  I finish the last of the beans and drop the empty can onto the floorboard. “That’s not all this is about. You know that. What Ruiz was going to do was wrong. We had to stop him. Period.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  “Really,” I snap, “do tell, how do you see it?”

  She shrugs indifferently. “I see that we were safe and comfortable. This world is screwed anyway. We’re all going to die screaming at some point. If Ruiz can do something to make the assholes responsible suffer just a little bit more, then that’s fine by me. I’d have rather died with a roof over my head. Instead, here I am, eating cold beans and sleeping in the front seat of the most uncomfortable vehicle ever made, again!”

  “You’re a real ray of sunshine,” I snort.

  “You’re just delusional, Tim. But what else is new?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, let’s just go to sleep so we can wake up and get on with this nightmare.”

  “No, I wanna hear it. If you’re going to talk shit, then go ahead and back it up.”

  She tosses the can onto the dash. It tips over, spreading bean juice and sending the fork spiraling down into the crack where the windshield meets the dashboard. “Okay, you really want to do this?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  “Fine, you’ve always been delusional.” She holds up a hand and begins counting off on her fingers. “The whole dance thing; let me clue you in on that, you not winning had nothing to do with people having poor taste, you just sucked. The thing with Katia, it wasn’t love, bro, it’s called a lack of options. And this whole obsession with getting Momma back, newsflash, she’s fucking dead!”

  I raise my hand and she recoils against the door. I catch myself. Tears in my eyes. Heart thumping against my chest. My breath shallow and fast. “Get the fuck out!”

  She fumbles for the door handle, whimpers, and stumbles out of the Humvee. She slams the door and stalks off across the slanted parking structure.

  I watch her go, pushing down the urge to call for her. I roll over in my seat and shut my eyes, tears sneaking from between my lashes and falling silently onto the seat.

  Minutes pass.

  Hours pass.

  At any moment, I expect her to return.

  I’ll apologize.

  She’ll apologize.

  We’ll move on like nothing happened.

  She doesn’t return. The sting of what she said doesn’t subside. It sits there like a rock in my chest.

  Sleep never comes. I just toss and turn. The tears switch on and off at random, and before I know it, the sun rises and the new day begins.

  Bethany is nowhere to be found.

  20

  I’m standing at the front of the Humvee. There is a map spread out before me, my handgun re
sts beside it, suppressor attached, just in case any unwelcome visitors decide to come wandering into the parking garage.

  I’m trying to pinpoint exactly where I am, trying to keep Bethany out of my thoughts. The two are not conducive.

  She’s okay. She’ll come back.

  I thought of going out to look for her. Then I thought of her coming back and finding me gone. Finding the vehicle empty. So I’m staying put. At least for now.

  I squint at the map. Moving it slightly, turning it left and then right as my eyes scan the page. My hope is that if I can pin point where the apartment complex is located, then I’ll be able to retrace our steps and make sense of where we are now.

  I need to find the closest intersection first.

  I move my finger down and then left, and then finally happen across a pair of roads that strike a familiar chord.

  Park and Preston.

  Park, that’s the road we’d driven during the raid.

  We’d gone West towards the toll road.

  Last night was such a blur. I should have followed along more closely when Bethany was driving.

  I think, maybe, we went south...

  ...I think, but I’m not sure.

  I fold the map up inside of my pocket and grab the gun. I’ll head out to the street and try looking for a sign or a landmark.

  The parking structure groans as my footfalls echo against the partially collapsed ceiling. Far to my left a giant slab of cement and rebar sit at a dramatic gradient allowing the sunlight to cut through and explode rich and orange against the cold gray pavement. There aren’t very many cars around. The few that remain have broken windshields and fire damage. Most likely caused by the bombing runs last month. I’m sure that one day the entire thing will come down. I’m hoping that day isn’t today.

  The attendant booth is empty. The yellow bars controlling the traffic in and out are twisted up and broken off on either side.

  People in a mad panic to get out, no doubt.

  I check the booth for anything of value. Candy bar wrappers. Shuffled paperwork. A black telephone swaying back and forth by its power cord, the handset dragging the ground.

  Nothing.

  I get the pistol ready as I step into the light.

  It’s chilly. The road is narrow. The buildings on either side of me hug in tight, creating a hell of a wind tunnel. I hunch my shoulders and turn my head away, unable to bear the onslaught; tears sting my eyes.

  I turn, putting the wind at my back, and start moving down the street. There are large pieces of granite littering the ground, cluttering the sidewalk, shed by the structures towering above me. There are parking meters that have been splintered. Cars that have been pancaked. Bodies that have been buried.

  An urban avalanche.

  There is a small grunt somewhere up ahead of me. A whimper. But...not human.

  I see the hand. Pale. Clawing at the ground. Fingernails gone. Red bloody scabs in their place.

  I aim. Moving closer. Circling wide.

  Rabid.

  Male or female? I can’t tell.

  It’s trapped beneath a fallen piece of brick wall. The legs and torso are hidden away beneath the concrete, metal, and glass, no doubt turned to mush and powder. The rest is withered away to sagging flaps of skin and brittle bone. Bloody lesions oozing red and black cover every inch of the arms, neck, face, and back. It looks at me, deep pockets of bloody membrane sitting beneath protruding eyeballs. It opens its mouth, too weak to lunge. It couldn’t bite me if it wanted to. Its gums are void of teeth. Black and bloody pits are all that remain.

  I feel something for this creature that I haven’t felt for any of the rest.

  Pity.

  Hell, maybe it’s empathy.

  Trapped beneath something you have no power over. Feeling as if you’re rotting away beneath its might. What you thirst for lying just beyond your reach. No hope for salvation.

  Maybe there is more uniting us than dividing us.

  The tips of its bloody fingers are inches away from my boots.

  Another dusty groan escapes from its throat.

  “They don’t feel pain,” I whisper to myself.

  I point the gun at the top of its head. One bullet. One bullet to end the suffering.

  “They don’t feel pain.” I lower the gun. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll do it,” a small voice says from behind me.

  “Bethany!” I turn. Relief courses through me.

  Her hair whips beneath her chin in the torrential breeze. She holds her katana limply, letting the tip drag the ground.

  “You went back to the Humvee?” I ask, nodding towards the sword.

  “Yeah, you had me worried for a second when I couldn’t find you.”

  “Just came out here to find a street sign. Was trying to trace a route on the map. Kinda tough when you don’t have any idea where the hell you are to begin with.”

  “I know where we’re at,” she says, stepping past me. “Just, let me deal with this first. We can’t leave it like this.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to do it?”

  “No,” she shakes her head, “no, I can do this.”

  “I know you can do it. That’s not the point. You don’t have to prove anything. I’m just saying, you went through something yesterday, killing that guy...”

  “Tim, I’ve got it, okay.” She’s quick about it. She swings the sword up and slams the tip down through the top of its head. There is a tiny crunch. Not much resistance. It twitches a little and goes still. Bethany removes the blade, wipes it on the bottom of her shoe like Katia had taught her, and returns it to its sheath. “That was the right thing to do.”

  “I agree.”

  We stand there silent for a moment. Dividing the wind. Staring down at the body of the Rabid. Dark blood bubbling up from the small gash in the back of its head. Slow and thick.

  The right thing...

  “Bethany, listen...”

  “Tim, I’m sorry. About all the shit...”

  “Nah, it’s...it’s fine. I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t chase you. I, all of this, if I lose you, then what’s the point? All we have is each other, so I’m sorry.”

  She turns and wraps me in a sturdy hug.

  “So, where are we?” I ask, rubbing her back.

  “We went south last night. We’re in Dallas. This is Mockingbird. And that way I saw a sign for highway 75. But guess what else?”

  I’m not sure I like the look on her face. “What?”

  “I found another checkpoint.”

  “Bethany, what were you thinking? You want to get yourself killed?” We’re not hugging anymore. I’m holding her by the elbows like a concerned parent.

  “Chill, they didn’t see me. They’re kicked back in lawn chairs. There’s only two of them. We could find out from them where the General is. Where Momma is. We can take them!”

  I shake my head. “I’ve only got a handgun. You’ve only got a handgun and that sword. They’ve got rifles, am I right?”

  She nods.

  “Well, there’s your answer. Fuck that. Which way are they located because we’re headed in a different one?”

  “No, listen. I’ve got a plan.”

  “A plan? For me and you to take down two soldiers at a military checkpoint?”

  She smiles. “It’s a good plan.”

  I don’t like this. She has a point though. We have no idea where Momma is. It’s a needle in a giant bombed out haystack. This is our only lead. Two guys. The odds could be a lot worse. Still, they’re trained. They’re armed.

  I don’t like it at all.

  I sigh. “Let’s hear the plan.”

  21

  We watch them.

  For hours, we sit on the second floor of a mostly intact office complex and watch them.

  They don’t move much. They mostly keep their asses planted firmly in their fold out lawn chairs, shooting the shit. Eating and drinking from a foam cooler. There only appears to be two of them.
>
  Bethany was right.

  I check the rooftops and windows for snipers.

  Empty. Just broken glass and crumpled brick.

  These guys are relaxed. They laugh a lot. They slouch down and swing their knees back and forth. They aren’t worried about Rabid. Then again, my worry is beginning to wane as well. The herds seem to have thinned considerably. Whether they’re dying off or moving on is anyone’s guess. Still, the only Rabid I’ve seen today are dead (for good) or dying.

  “They seem like nice guys,” Bethany says, lying on her stomach against the shag carpet, her chin cradled on her knuckles.

  I hold the binoculars sideways against one eye, my pistol lying on the desk beside me. “Until they’re looking at you down those rifle sights and shooting at you.”

  “Nah, I’m just saying, like, if none of this was going on and you ran into them in public they’d probably be cool guys. If they didn’t have a job to do and we didn’t have a job to do, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it. If none of us had a job to do, we’d all be standing in a circle holding hands.” I drop the binoculars onto my lap, grab up the pistol and check the magazine. “These guys picked the wrong job.” I slam the mag home and hop down from the desk. “You remember the plan?”

  “It was my idea, Tim. I should be asking you that question.”

  “Of course.” I kick her lightly on the side of the leg. “Come on. Up. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”

  ***

  I stand in the alley ducked behind a couple of plastic trash cans; those large dark green models that suburbanites can roll to the edge of their driveways with one hand while reading the morning paper with the other.

  I watch Bethany as she moves towards them.

  Slow.

  The crocodile tears are already rolling down her cheeks.

  Her pistol concealed in the back of her jeans.

  Concealed by her white shirt and her bubble jacket.

  Unless they do a pat down, she’ll be okay.

  The silencer is firmly attached to the end of my HK .45. I’d dropped some of the wire pulling gel I’d gotten from Ruiz onto the backside of the suppressor and had shaken it down good, just like he’d shown me, before attaching it to the muzzle.