The Rabid: Rise

by J. V. Roberts

  “After what, sis?”

  “After we die…”

  I squeeze her hand harder. I scoot around and sit next to her. I take her hand into my lap and set her face down against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head and watch the brown field before us bow beneath the wind. Leaves rustle overhead. Acorns or berries or something else small and hard falls from overhead and bounces against the earth nearby.

  “Want to know what I think?”

  “What?” She’s somewhere between consciousness and a dream. Soon she’ll be beyond my reach. Beyond my bullshit words.

  “I think...it’ll be like before. Our little yellow house. That old broken down chicken coop. The woods and the adventures. Cool summer mornings. Me dancing and you at the dial. Momma and Daddy taking us to the park and letting us walk the rocks over the creek. Ice cream after and a movie in the evening. That’s what’s waiting for you.”

  She looks up to meet my eyes. Her head tremoring with the effort. “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” I draw an X across my chest. “I’ll be there to meet you.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “I love you, Bethany.” The tears drip from my eyes and splash against her face.

  She doesn’t seem to mind. “I love you too…Tim.” Her head falls, and she lets out a long and labored breath.

  I look to Katia. “I can’t,” I blubber. “I...can’t! Oh God...please...please help me!” I wrap both arms around my sister’s head. Clutching her desperately to my chest, like a child holding a puppy. Reckless and in love. As if somehow, by refusing to let her go, I can stop it. I can stop what’s about to come. I can stop the machines that are taking her from me.

  I feel the hand on my elbow. Soft but insistent. “Tim, I’ll do it, but, you have to walk away. Okay? You’ve got to let her go. It’s time. Do you understand?”

  I don’t let her go. I allow Katia to unravel my arms and I fall away. She takes the gun from my waistband as I turn over and start crawling in the dust towards the edge of the shadows. I reach the grass and stumble to my feet. I don’t know where I’m going. Everything washes together. I can’t see. I can’t smell. I can’t hear. The wind guides me. Pulling me across the field.

  The shot isn’t loud. It’s a whisper. But, it drops me to my knees.

  I puke and fall to my side.

  Convulsing.

  All I know is my affliction.

  It drapes over me like a blanket and everything goes black.

  ***

  Katia tries to make me drink, again. I push the water away and set my head back against the tire of the Humvee, my legs stretched out on the side of the road.

  God, I wish I could die.

  If losing my sister hasn’t given me the balls to stick a gun in my mouth, then nothing will.

  I could ask Katia to shoot me.

  She won’t. She’s more liable to slap me and tell me to get my shit together. I don’t need to hear that. Not now.

  Katia speaks softly. “It’s never going to be okay. But, it’ll dull. I’ve been where you’re at right now. It’ll dull and you’ll use it, I promise you.”

  Promises. Christ, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about promises, don’t make them.

  I’ll protect you. I’ll never let anything happen to you.

  I couldn’t protect a bucket of sand in the middle of a drought.

  Fuck promises. Fuck this. Fuck it.

  Maybe if I lie here long enough some back country Rabid will come along and tear my guts out.

  Relief. Release. Sweet release.

  “Tim, talk to me. We can’t just sit here. I know you’re hurting, but you’ve got to talk.”

  I shrug. “What do you want me to say? My sister is out there, dead by a goddamn tree with a bullet in her face. My Ma got ripped apart by fucking monsters. I’ve got nothing. No one. You hate me...”

  “I don’t though...I don’t hate you. Tim, I love you, I never stopped loving you.” She cups one of my hands between hers.

  “You said...”

  “Tim, I say a lot of shit when I’m mad. You fucked up. We’ve all fucked up. Yeah, it’s going to take me a little bit of time to come to terms with what happened, but you’ve got me. I know it’s not the same, but please, don’t give up. Not now.”

  I return her smile. It’s weak. I’ve got to force it a little. But it’s something. Something bright in all this brown and gray. “I’ve never really been one for giving up.”

  “Good, so, what’s our next move?” She sits down beside me and stretches her legs out.

  The other guy in our crew, Sonny, is pacing the fence line in front of us, looking for Rabid. Jittery as hell. Looking back to see if we’re ready to move yet. He hasn’t opened his mouth again; Katia tends to have that effect on people.

  Our next move.

  I don’t have to think long.

  “Fuck running.”

  Katia looks up, slowly. “What?”

  “I said, fuck running. Let’s go back and let’s take the fight to the bastards responsible for all of this.”

  She squeals excitedly and jumps to her knees, hovering over me. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d say that.”

  “We go back, we link up with Norton and Ruiz, and we destroy them. Not just one or two, every fucking one of them, top to bottom.”

  She throws a leg over mine and straddles my thighs, her silhouette extinguishing the light from the pale sun. She holds my cheeks and kisses me like she means it. “I’ll be by your side, as long as you’ll have me.”

  “Well then, you’re stuck with me.”

  “I’m okay with that,” she says, kissing me again.

  ***

  As the Dallas skyline forms before us the aching in my belly starts to burn. A small ember at first that quickly turns into a dark flame. An anger and determination like I’ve never felt before. I will look into the faces of the men behind Project Lockjaw. They will know of Momma and of Bethany. They will know of the blood that is on their hands. They will know because they will see it burning in my eyes, right before I take their fucking heads.

  Read on for a free sample of Devouring The Dead

  Acknowledgements

  Well, like last time, there are some people that I need to thank for the existence of this book.

  Right off the bat, I want to thank YOU, yeah, that’s right, you. Whether you’ve been there from the beginning or you’re new to this series, thank you. Your feedback, your patronage, the love you’ve shown through your emails and your reviews, it’s all part of what drives my passion.

  My heartfelt gratitude to my immediate and extended family for their love and their support. I hope I'm making you proud.

  I want to say a big thank you to my beta reader this go around, Ryan. Your speedy reading, combined with your eye for detail, was a valuable resource and really helped me put the final polish on this piece.

  Thank you, once again, to Scalpel Arms. Your insight into the world of firearms and firearms tactics has added a nice thick layer of authenticity to both of these projects.

  And, finally, to my wife, Lizzie, for allowing me the silence and space and encouragement that I needed to get this project finished in a reasonable amount of time. Thank you for understanding and for using headphones when listening to your music. I love you, forever and always.

  Here are some cool websites:

  Follow me at: WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/thejonvincent

  Check out Scalpel Arms and their incredible work at: WWW.SCALPELARMS.COM

  Until next time,

  J.V.

  3/24/1

  About the Author

  J.V. Roberts is a former Dallas film critic and blogger. He is a native of Athens, Georgia. He is the author of The Rabid and Rise, the first two books in The Rabid trilogy. He lives with his wife in Plano, Texas.

  PART ONE: GROWTH

  CHAPTER ONE

  Andrew James Collins had gone through his regular Monday morning procedure like every other week: up at six
, teeth brushed, face washed, and out the door by six fifteen for a run. It was getting harder to leave his sleeping wife, Grace, when he got up. All he really wanted to do was snuggle down under the covers with her. With a baby on the way, she had had to give up the running and he was sad she couldn’t come with him anymore. He was looking forward to being a father for the first time though. These early morning runs gave him the chance to think about the future. He forced himself out of bed nearly every morning, the upcoming marathon was his prime motivator. This one would be his third and he wanted to improve on last years’ time.

  He kissed his wife goodbye and crept out of the bedroom discreetly. Andy pulled on his trainers and did his normal warm-up downstairs in the front room, doing some basic stretching. He left the house quietly and took off down the street. It was overcast and threatening to rain, so he planned to make today’s run a quick one and cut through the park. He passed through the streets, listening to the world waking up around him. The odd car and delivery truck passed him by and occasionally he would run past someone on the path clutching a newspaper or a carton of milk.

  He ran through Jamaica Street quickly, down another quiet residential road, until he reached Stepney Green Park. He knew he could run around it this morning, double-back on himself, and that way hopefully beat the weather. If he was doubly lucky, he could get back in time for a cuddle with Grace before he had to get ready for work in the city.

  As he jogged through the park, he enjoyed the smell of the grass and the trees. His breath fogged out in front of him in the crisp air and he ran past a park bench where an old man was sleeping, covered in soggy newspapers. There was another jogger on the far side of the park, but otherwise it was deserted. The sky overhead was darkening ominously and he increased his pace.

  A boom of thunder rolled out above the trees and he felt a large raindrop break on his head. The thunder faded away and Andy followed the curve of the path through the park and out into the open. If the raindrops became a downpour, there would be little shelter. There was a crack and a flash and Andy thought it was lightning, but the ground abruptly exploded in front of him. Grass, mud, and dirt flew up into the electrified air.

  He went sprawling, landing on the dewy grass. Clumps of sodden earth landed on him and he tasted blood in his mouth. He got to his feet and waved his hands in front of his face, trying to waft away the cloying dirt in the air. More thick droplets of rain began falling. Surely, the lightning hadn’t struck the ground; there was no conduit. Andy could see nothing for it to strike.

  As the air cleared, he saw a hole in the ground ahead, about six feet in diameter. It was circular and deep, and Andy’s first thought was that a bomb had gone off. Why would a terrorist detonate a bomb in the middle of an empty park in the morning?

  Carefully, Andy walked toward the hole. There was no burning smell, no smoke, and he began to think perhaps it wasn’t a bomb. It just didn’t make sense.

  He scanned around the park but the other jogger had disappeared, and the homeless man was still on the bench sound asleep. Evidently, the noise and the light hadn’t been enough to shake off the old man’s hangover. Andy couldn’t see anyone else around; there were no prying eyes or hidden cameras on the trees, and no sirens or SWAT team sprinting toward him. He took one more step toward the hole and stopped.

  A strange, moth-like creature flew up into the air and hovered about ten feet off the ground. If that’s a moth, he thought, it’s the biggest bloody moth I’ve ever seen. The body of the creature was the size of a rugby ball and its brown leathery wings stretched out about six feet from tip to tip. Two antennae were sticking out of its head, waving around like divining rods. They were covered in a light fur that appeared oily; the raindrops were splashing off the creature and onto the ground, leaving the flying beast dry.

  Andy looked at it with amazement. The creature had no eyes or mouth that he could see; it was like a massive moth with no face. It fluttered its wings slowly and secreted a dark liquid from its rear, a dark gooey substance that dribbled down its belly before dripping onto the earth below. The creature still hovered in the air with only its wing flapping and its antennae wiggling around. Andy took a few paces away and the creature started to follow him. Its wings flapped slowly and Andy was amazed it could remain air-born. He tried to think if he had seen anything like this anywhere before; he’d seen bats and bizarre creatures that lived in remote jungle caves on documentaries, but nothing like this, nothing in a central London park.

  He took another few steps and the strange creature followed him again, this time coming closer. He wasn’t sure if it was the developing rainstorm, but the air seemed alive, as if the very atoms were crackling.

  Thinking he must tell Grace about the weird flying animal, he watched as the flying beast rose higher into the air. Relieved that it was leaving, Andy heard a low humming noise. Looking closer at the moth-like creature, he realised it was coming from the animal. Its body was vibrating, its wings suddenly flapping furiously, and its whole body shuddering. Andy stepped back, alarmed, and the antennae suddenly went stiff, pointing directly at him. He turned and ran as the creature swooped.

  He heard the wings beating behind his head, as he ran on the soft and slippery ground. Panicking, he turned and the creature was right in front of his face. Its wings wrapped themselves around his head and the rigid antenna dug themselves into his eyes. Andy screamed as the stinking creature’s body enveloped his face, muffling his shouts for help, and covering his bleeding eyes.

  Andy sank to the floor, blinded as the antennae probed further into his head, reaching into his brain. Unable to breathe, Andy pulled frantically at the creature, but his fingers could not find a hold and the more he pulled, the more the creature dug in. His fingers slipped uselessly off the creature’s furry body. Andy’s lungs filled with blood and his heart beat furiously. Aware he was dying, Andy tried with one last attempt, one final adrenalin-fuelled charge, to rip the creature from his head.

  The animal’s body quivered and with a tremendous thrust, it ejaculated a brown thick liquid into Andy. Its antennae were used for both sensing prey, and delivering its fatal poison. Andy’s body pulsed, soiled itself, and lay still as the creature continued trembling, its sticky seed flowing into Andy’s brain.

  Finally, it was spent and the creature unwrapped itself from him. With its job done, the creature used its last ounce of energy to fly up into the nearest tree where it curled up in the concealing branches to die. The animal knew it had a short life-span, but was content it had fulfilled its purpose. It had little energy left and would probably wait here for a while until it slipped into sleep; unless something else came along to draw its attention.

  The storm grew stronger and the rain fell on Andy’s dead body, the water pooling in his empty eye sockets. Dark brown droplets of liquid oozed from his ears, nose, and mouth, mingling with blood before trickling down onto the wet ground. Blisters appeared on his face and painful red boils erupted on his neck that popped like fresh kernels of corn in a microwave.

  A young woman, another jogger, entered the park a moment later and saw Andy lying on the floor ahead of her. She raced over to him, but she knew that he was clearly dead. Assuming he had suffered a heart attack, she didn’t touch his body, but left him alone and called for an ambulance, the police, and then finally her boyfriend to tell him of the excitement. In all the confusion and drama, she didn’t notice the unnatural hole in the ground. She was so busy tweeting about the dead jogger in the park that she failed to notice when the ambulance men took Andy away, and a strange, furry, creature with huge wings flew up into the air above her.

  * * * *

  The bus journey to work changed little, no matter where you were headed, thought Tom. He looked around the bus at the coughing lady, the stinking old man with rolls of newspapers under his arms, the obnoxious school children playing obnoxious music from their obnoxious phones, and the atypical surly driver. Tom tried shuffling further to the window, away from the fat wom
an next to him whose blubbery rolls of fat were threatening to engulf him and his bag. He cursed her in his head and focused on the street outside, raindrops spilling down the glass and obscuring his vision. He used to get off here, go into college, grab a coffee, chat to a couple of guys on his course, pretend to be interested in what his boring tutor was lecturing him about, shoot home as quickly as possible to avoid doing any real work, and get straight back to doing nothing.

  There was no escaping it though - those cushy days were over. One week. His parents had given him one week’s grace between leaving college and forcing him to get a job. So here he was, squashed up on a bus that smelt of piss and chips, headed to what was probably going to be a very boring day at a new job. His father had a word with a friend, and got him in ‘Fiscal Industries.’ Even the company’s name sounded boring. Apparently, it was a call centre and he didn’t know what he’d be selling. Thanks dad, thought Tom.

  He yawned and his breath fogged up the glass. The fat lady got up as the bus stopped, and Tom was grateful he wouldn’t have to squeeze past her when he got off at the next stop. The streets were full of people, scurrying through the rain to work. His father had told him he was wasting his time taking media studies at college. Certainly Tom couldn’t see how he was going to use his knowledge in a call centre, selling foot-rot pills to old folks for seven quid an hour.

  He’d rarely been to this area of the city, but then he’d seldom had cause to. Tom preferred to stay near home or college; there were enough pubs not to need to go into the city. Here, executives, rushing from one meeting to the next, populated it. Why would he want to mix with people he had nothing in common with? Abundant skyscrapers scratched the skyline whilst at ground level, the rain pelted down on grey concrete and black suits.

  Tom finally spied the building he had to get to, and pushed the button to get off. He tried not to breathe in as he passed the old man with the newspapers. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, and stepped off the bus into the rain as it pulled up by the side of the road.