Confidence.
He jabbed with his left fist, barely grazing her shoulder. He swung forward with his right, intent on smashing the woman’s face.
Whack!
Whack!
Two strikes hit his face, one on his nose, drawing blood, the second under his eye, instantly swelling the cheek.
Dazed he staggered backwards before catching himself.
‘How could this be happening?’
Roaring, he threw himself forward as he tried to tackle the woman. Again he found nothing but air. His forward momentum carried him into the wall. Pushing off it, he turned around.
The woman’s booted foot caught him in the crotch, doubling him over as waves of pain radiated outward from his balls.
Whack!
A fist struck his nose again, breaking it this time. Blood flowed outward in waves, coating his mouth and chin before falling to the floor.
Unable to help himself, he raised his hands in defeat.
“Stop….”
The woman’s feet stopped in front of him. “How many other women have you attacked?”
Chadwick Beaumont shook his head in response.
Slap!
The hand hit him again, open this time.
“None!” He pleaded. “I swear!”
The Mexican man’s voice came from across the room. “So the first time you try to rape a woman was when you found one accompanied by two Marines and a Navy SEAL? Bullshit.”
“I…”
Slap!
“How many other women?”
“None!”
Slap!
Feeling helpless, and for the first time in his life, powerless, he felt himself begin to cry. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’ In the corner of his eye, he saw the hand pull back again. “Okay! Please stop!”
The hand hesitated.
Shaking his head, he felt tears fall from his eyes, joining the pool of blood at his feet. His balls ached, making him feel woozy. His vision swam from the repeated blows to his head. He staggered as he pulled himself upright again, keeping his hands up in front of him. The fight in him was gone.
“I…” Turning his head, he looked around the room. The SEAL pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward. Beaumont kept his hands up, then used one to point at the chair. “Can I sit? I feel dizzy.”
The SEAL nodded.
Hunched over, he moved to the chair, then slowly lowered himself onto it, careful not to allow pressure against his wounded balls. Once seated, he kept one hand down at this crotch, cupping his injured testicles, while he brought the other up to his face, where it found his broken nose. He felt more tears flow as he was forced to consider the defeat he’d been dealt at the hands of a woman.
As if on cue, the woman stepped forward. Her voice was low and filled with tense anger. “Answers.”
Shaking his head again, he pleaded. “Look, I’m...sick, okay? I need help.”
The woman’s right leg moved back, coiled and ready to strike. She repeated herself. “How. Many.”
Desperate, he repeated his lie. “Please! I need a doctor or something. I don’t want to hurt people, but I can’t help myself. I feel bad everytime, and I wish I could change, but I can’t.” He looked up at her, his eyes filled with sorrow and remorse, emotions he’d never felt, but had learned to fake. He’d used his acting skills as early as when he was a Senior in High School, after he’d raped Becky Worley after drama class one late afternoon. When approached by his heavy-handed father, he’d somehow found the right combination of faked emotions and carefully chosen words to convey that he’d let his emotions get the best of him out of a desire to be a man, just like him. His father nodded in his short, curt way and left the room without a word.
Discussions took place.
Likely outcomes were considered.
Future employment opportunities were presented.
Money changed hands.
Chadwick Beaumont moved on.
Looking at the woman, he didn’t bother trying to wipe away the tears or blood that ran down his face as he pleaded.
She remained unmoved. “I’m not going to ask again.”
A hand came up and grasped her shoulder slightly, making her flinch. It was the SEAL. His hard eyes glinted as he stared at Beaumont. “Sarah, I think it’s my turn.” Moving forward, he crouched in front of Beaumont and again put the knife atop his foot. “Remember what I said before about the foot?” He pressed down, hard, allowing the knife to penetrate the fabric of the shoe and puncture the skin. The blade instantly touched bone, scraping a bit of it away before stopping, somehow avoiding the surrounding tendons and ligaments.
Beaumont screamed.
Serrano waited.
When the screaming stopped, he calmly asked, “Are you going to answer the question?”
“I...I…”
The blade moved ever so slightly, sending fresh waves of pain through him.
“Okay!” He screamed.
The pressure on his foot stopped. “Alright. The question was, how many women have you attacked?”
Swallowing hard, Beaumont’s voice was soft and raspy when he responded. “.....”
The pressure returned. “Speak up.”
“Ahhh!!! Okay….Twenty three.”
The room went completely silent.
No one breathed. No words were spoken for several long moments before Serrano’s voice asked, “You raped them all?”
“Yeh...yes. I told you, I need help.”
“What else did you do? Did you hurt them in other ways, too?”
Beaumont nodded.
“You beat them?”
He nodded again.
Serrano waited a long moment before asking his next question.
“Did you kill them?”
Beaumont didn’t respond at first, but when the pressure on his foot returned, he blurted out, “Not all of them!”
The woman’s voice returned. “You motherfucker…”
Serrano remained focused. “How many have you killed?”
“I don’t know…”
More pressure. More pain.
“Ahhhh!!! Okay, okay... “ Sniveling as he sobbed incoherently, Chadwick Beaumont managed to utter, “Seventeen….”
The knife withdrew from his foot as the SEAL stood and stepped aside.
The woman’s foot flashed forward, finding the spot under his chin that sent his head backwards violently for the second time in less than an hour.
Everything went dark.
Again.
Sometime later, Chadwick Beaumont awoke to the feeling of sun on his face.
Blinking, he once again struggled to open his eyes. When he finally did, he found himself sitting on the driveway of the small home, once again tied to the chair. The people were nowhere to be seen.
Looking around the small street, he saw three of the infected creatures shambling along the street about sixty yards away.
Realizing his predicament, he strained against his bonds. Feeling a looseness in the ropes that bound him, he quickly managed to loosen one hand, then another. Reaching down, he quickly untied his legs, then rose from the chair.
Another rope was tied to his leg, bound tightly with a complex series of knots. His fingers fumbled against the rope, trying to find a way to undo the knots as he felt the creatures getting closer. It was impossible. If it was possible, there wasn’t time.
Pulling against the rope with his leg, he yanked backwards hard. At the edge of the open garage, a series of metal shelves fell forward, pulled by the rope. The shelves crashed to the ground loudly, sending tools and camping gear in all directions.
Hearing the loud noise, the infected creatures screamed in unison and broke into a run, racing towards him at full speed.
Rushing to the shelves, Beaumont tried to untie the knot there. It was no use. The knot was similarly made, a puzzling serpentine shape where the rope seemed to have no end.
Footsteps were closing fast.
Look
ing around, his eyes searched for something he could use to defend himself. A long wrench sat close by. He reached for it.
Three bodies slammed into him, sending him sideways, away from the tool.
Fittingly, the three infected who killed Chadwick Beaumont were all women.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Edison, California
It was still dark when Daniel felt himself no longer able to sleep. Unsurprisingly, the hard surface of the church’s floor had been hard on his back, and if he didn’t get up and move around, it would only get worse.
Carefully sliding his arm out from under Serafina’s neck, he extricated himself from the spooning position she frequently insisted on. Sliding sideways, he waited until he was completely clear from her before sitting up. Feeling a yawn coming on, he stifled it with one hand before grabbing his rifle, handgun, and boots. Moving away from where the group slept in the middle of the floor, he chose a spot on one of the empty pews and quietly laced up his boots. Leaving his Glock on the bench he stood and held the rifle high over his head, using its weight to help him stretch out his back and shoulders.
‘Damn, that feels good,’ he thought as his eyes settled on a small light coming from the rear part of the church, near where the priest’s quarters were, behind the dais. Looking more closely, he realized it was coming from the small kitchen that was across the hall from the bathroom, where they’d each taken turns cleaning themselves using water warmed on the small two-burner stove.
He grabbed his handgun before slinging his rifle over his shoulder and heading towards the dim light near the back of the building. When he got closer, he smelled the wonderful aroma of hot coffee.
How could it be possible? As far as he knew, power had been out throughout most of the state for at least a week.
Rounding the corner, he entered the room and found Father Rolando sitting in a small wooden chair, sipping a cup of coffee as he read from a tattered old text. In the corner of the room was a stack of bottled water and a series of reusable bags filled canned food, some of which had been provided the night before during their dinner. Hearing Daniel approach, he looked up and smiled.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Daniel shook his head, gazing over at the stovetop style coffee pot that sat atop the stove.
Following his gaze, the priest said, “It was in the storage shed, next to the camping gear. I’d completely forgotten about it. Must be a sign of old age. Some of our younger priests take our congregation’s family members on camping trips from time to time. We were gifted a lot of gear by local sporting goods companies.” The man’s eyes stared off into space as he thought about what he said, considering the fact that there’d be no more camping trips any time soon, most likely not in his lifetime..
“It smells amazing.”
Father Rolando snapped out of his reverie. “Ah! What am I thinking?” He gestured towards the cabinets. “There are cups there, please help yourself. There’s sugar and powdered creamer next to the cups, should you desire it.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing a cup, Daniel poured himself coffee, then added a bit of sugar and powdered creamer. Bringing the cup to his lips, he inhaled, taking in the fragrance of the hot liquid. “Oh my God, this smells amazing.” Realizing what he said, Daniel put his hand up. “Sorry about that, Father.”
The man only raised his cup and smiled.
Sitting back down at the table, Daniel closed his eyes as he took a sip. The hot coffee warmed his chest and awakened his senses. Feeling something against his leg, he looked down to find Romeo, who was sniffing his leg.
“He likes you.” Father Rolando said, looking down at the cat.
“He probably smells my cats somewhere underneath all the dirt and grime I’ve accumulated over the last few days.”
The priest looked up at him. “You have multiple cats?”
Daniel shook his head. “We have too many.”
“And how many is that?”
“Three. We had one, then added a pair of brothers. Tripled our cat population in one visit to the animal shelter.”
The man smiled, his warm eyes gazing at Daniel. “We are all God’s creatures. God prefers that we love and respect all.”
Daniel nodded in agreement. “I miss ours.”
“Are they okay?”
“Yes. They’re in good hands, being cared for by new friends we made before we started our journey north.”
“They sound like good people.”
“They are. Without them, we might not be here.”
“Why are they not?”
“They chose to remain back in the town we helped make safe.”
“I see.” The priest paused, taking a drink of his coffee. Bored with Daniel’s leg, Romeo hopped up onto the table and sat next to the man’s cup. Rolando reached up and scratched the cat’s head, causing it to close its eyes. It purred instantly, signalling its contentment with his owner’s actions. “Why did you not stay?”
Daniel swallowed his coffee before getting up to refill his cup. “Do you mind?”
“Please, no need to ask. Help yourself. What it is here does not belong to me. It belongs to all.”
“Thank you.” Daniel fixed himself a second cup and sat back down, distracting the cat momentarily. It looked at him through barely open eyes that conveyed a mild resentment at the distraction. “The young girl,” he began.
“Isabella.”
He nodded. “She’s immune to the virus.”
“Yes, she told me.”
“She did?”
“Daniel, she is Catholic. I am a priest. I am simply here to listen. When people ask me to provide answers to questions about life and the world around us, I try my best to explain.” His eyes softened in sadness as he looked down at his cup. “She is upset and confused about her situation. She does not understand why God would allow her father to kill her mother, only to spare her.”
Daniel shook his head, looking down at his coffee. “Because she’s incredibly lucky.” His comment was met with silence. When he looked up at the priest, the man’s eyes held his.
“You know how I would describe it, my son, and it has nothing to do with luck. She has been blessed by God.”
Though a variety of responses questioning the wisdom of believing in a God who let a virus spread like wildfire, causing brothers to kill brothers, mothers to kill their children, children to kill their parents, decimating the population of the earth, swirled in his head, Daniel decided to let it go. At this point, people needed to believe in something, and if it helped them find the strength to go on and hope for the future, so be it.
Smiling, he took another sip of coffee before reaching out to scratch the side of the cat’s neck. It opened its eyes in surprise, then closed them and purred in response.
“Cheating on our cats already?” Serafina asked, smiling as she entered the room. Looking over at Father Rolando, she said, “Oh my God, you made coffee.” Realizing what she said, she added, “Oh. Sorry about that.”
Both men chuckled before the priest replied. “You two make a good couple.” Pointing to the cabinet, he provided the same instructions he’d provided Daniel.
“Couldn’t sleep either, honey?”
Pouring her coffee, she said, “No. Partly uncomfortable - sorry, Father - partly anxious. We’ve got a ways to go.”
“Is anyone else up?”
“Only Joe. He’s near the front, right out there, reading one of the Bibles.”
Daniel cocked his head in surprise. “Hunh. I didn’t realize he was religious.”
The priest interjected. “One does not need to be, as you say, ‘religious’ to accept God into one’s heart.” Rising to his feet, the man set his coffee cup on the counter. “Perhaps I will go see if he would enjoy my counsel.” With that, he left the two of them alone in the small kitchen.
Serafina sat down across from Daniel, reaching out to rub the lower part of the cat’s back, just above his tail. Romeo stood instantly, arching his back in enj
oyment. She scratched it a few times, then patted it twice before stopping. The cat stood there for a few seconds, waiting for her to resume her efforts. When she didn’t, the cat hopped down off the table and trotted out of the room.
“I think you upset someone.” Daniel said, smiling.
Serafina shrugged. “Meh.” Sipping her coffee again, she smiled at her husband.
Enjoying the silence, the two of them sat back in their chairs and relaxed. It would be another long day on the road, and what they’d encounter along the way was anyone’s guess.
Closing the back of the Prius, Daniel looked at Serafina, who stood next to the Priest. The man had been nice enough to share water and food with them, replenishing their supplies for the journey ahead.
“Are you sure we can’t convince you to come with us?” Serafina asked.
“No, my dear. My place is here. Someone else will need a place to stay. Maybe for a night, maybe for longer. Either way, I must be here to help.”
Logan stepped over and extended his hand. “Thank you, Father.” He shook the priest’s hand before turning and walking away.
Joe nodded at the priest as well. “Thank you, Father.”.
Father Rolando smiled. “Of course, Joe.” Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a Bible and passed it to the man. “Please, take it.”
Joe shook his head slightly, bringing up his hands. “I couldn’t, Father.”
“Please, I insist. I believe what you are looking for is there within. If you give it a chance, you might be surprised.”
The man accepted it hesitantly, nodding before following Logan to the other Prius.
Daniel extended his hand. “Seriously, Father, thank you for everything.” He paused. “Especially the coffee.”
The priest smiled, looking at both of them. “No thanks needed. You’re good people, and as I said, God’s children. It is my duty to help, but it is also my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed the company.” He looked over towards the fence, where Romeo had retaken his position, watching them from afar. “Romeo is a good cat, but not a great conversationalist.”
The three of them laughed as they looked over at the cat. In response, Romeo’s eyes squinted slightly, suggesting he knew he was the butt of the joke.
Surviving Rage | Book 3 Page 27