As she watched, the man lifted his head to the sky and roared in anger. His head came down as his eyes locked on Melanie. The man crawled forward, dragging his broken leg out of the hole, then slowly began to rise on one leg. The man’s right leg was dangling freely, the bone protruding from the leg of his pants, blood flowing down its length. The man took one step and collapsed again, hitting the asphalt hard.
Melanie breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the man’s prone form.
Fingers twitched. The head jerked upward, and the man lifted his torso off the ground with his powerful arms. The man began crawling towards them, his hands slamming the pavement as he dragged his broken leg behind him.
“Dad!!!”
The van’s engine sputtered once, twice, and then started. Melanie’s father put the vehicle in gear and looked in the rear view mirror before pulling away from the ambulance. “What the fuck?”
“Harold, language!” Her mother said reflexively. She hated cursing, and never let up about it.
“Seriously, Mary? Now?” Her dad accelerated as the road cleared, giving them a clear path to the freeway.
Her mother didn’t respond.
They’d managed to get to the 15 North, and had spent the remainder of the daylight traveling north, bypassing cars and trucks, sometimes people as they did. Several times people had tried to flag them down, hoping for help, but their father had simply clenched his jaw and kept his eyes forward, set on getting to her Aunt’s house.
When they’d seen the flashing lights at the immigration checkpoint, they’d all cheered.
“Why do you think the police are all the way up here?” Her mother had asked.
Her dad shrugged in response. “Probably realized the city is a lost cause.”
As they got closer, she saw two men in uniform step out onto the road in front of them. The one on the left raised his hand, signaling that they should stop. Her father eased the van to a stop, its engine clunking and sputtering. The vehicle shook as they sat there on the road, its engine threatening to stall.
Her father lowered his window as the officer walked around to his side of the van. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
The officer nodded, smiling slightly. He leaned down and looked into the vehicle. When he saw Melanie and her siblings in the back, he smiled again, this time more broadly. Regarding her father again, he asked, “Where you headed?”
“We’re getting out of the city, heading up to my sister-in-law’s house in Hemet.” He gestured behind them with his thumb. “It’s crazy back there.”
The officer nodded. “Yes, yes it is.” He looked around the van again, his head shifting back and forth.
Melanie looked at the other officer and wondered why his clothes were so baggy. ‘Keto diet?’ She wondered. ‘I don’t think it works that well…’
“You guys have any weapons in there we should know about?” The man with the buzz cut asked.
“No, no sir.”
Melanie’s mom leaned forward, anxious to share her position on guns. “We don’t believe in guns in our house.”
The officer nodded. “That’s good. That’s really good.” He gestured to Melanie’s dad. “Step out of the car, please.”
Her dad recoiled in surprise. “What? Why? Did we do something wrong?”
Buzz cut put his hand on the gun in the holster on his belt. “Sir, step out of the car, please.”
Her mother’s eyes got wide. “Harold, do as he says.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Her dad got out of the van, stepping out with his hands up. “Officer, I hope we didn’t - ”
As Melanie thought back, she couldn’t remember which came first, the sound of the gunshot or the sight of her father’s blood hitting the window by her face. Her father’s head snapped back, his body freezing for a second, before his legs bent, dropping him to the ground, face first. In horror, Melanie watched as blood, brain, and bits of bone slid down the glass of the window.
She realized she was screaming, as were her mother and siblings. The passenger door was thrown open as hands grabbed her mother, dragging her from the vehicle.
The man in the baggy uniform slapped her mother, hard. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.” As Melanie watched, her mother’s legs gave out. The man’s arms held her up as her mother sobbed at the sudden death of her husband.
The side door of the van slid open on her siblings’ side, and men reached in pulling them from the vehicle. Zach, full of anger, sorrow, and bravery, tried to fight back, but at nine years old and 65 pounds, he was nothing more than amusement for the men. A single backhand sent the boy flying backwards, his body slamming into a parked car. He fell to the ground, stunned. Her sister Sara was lifted out of the van with ease, a large man tossing her over his shoulder like a bag of clothes.
Four men moved them over to the side of the road, under a large metal shade, while a fifth drove the van over and parked it nearby. Melanie looked back to where her father’s body lay on the pavement, hoping against hope that he had somehow survived, but there was no movement, and his dead body was the last thing she saw before the men tied their hands and placed dark hoods over their heads before throwing them back into the van.
The four of them remained in the van, waiting, for what seemed like an eternity. With hoods over their heads, they could see very little other than light and dark, which told them the night had come and gone before the inside of the van got hotter and hotter in the heat of the day.
The men gave them nothing. No food, no water, no bathroom visits. Melanie remembered her sister crying as she felt the seat get wet as the young girl’s bladder finally let go, spilling her urine in a flood.
It would only be another thirty minutes before Melanie had done the same.
Some time later the van door slid open noisily and rough hands yanked her from the van. “Come here, bitch.”
She heard the van door slam closed as her mother struggled against her bonds in the front seat. Her hood was removed, and the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun blinded her, forcing her eyes shut. Kicking and trying to scream through the gag, she was dragged back towards where she and her family had been stopped.
Forcing her eyes open against the brightness, she looked to the side of the road, and saw that her father’s body was gone, the blood covered in what looked like antifreeze. Tears flowed down her face as she was brought over to a long haired man on a massive motorcycle. The man’s pockmarked face broke into a wide grin as his eyes traveled up and down her body.
Looking at the man, Melanie sensed that he was responsible for all of this, including the death of her father, and it filled her with rage. Unable to reach him, she did the only thing she could, drawing the limited moisture in her mouth into a small loogie and spitting in his face.
Her sense of satisfaction was fleeting, though. The man’s thick hand pulled back before it struck forward, connecting with the side of her face, snapping her head back and to the side violently. Her vision swam as her knees buckled, threatening to give way.
The man chuckled, a sinister laugh, before he spoke. “Yeah, she’ll do.” The man’s voice was scratchy and deep, like that of a person who’d smoked constantly for a majority of their life.
The hood was forced back over her head before hands picked her up and placed her on the bike, facing backwards. She felt ropes secure her waist and torso to the backrest of the motorcycle before one of the men said, “Good to go, Big John.”
A second voice chimed in, “Yeah, she’s tied on there, boss.”
“Alright. Imma take her down to camp to have some fun.”
“What about the others?”
“Whatcha got?”
“An older woman, probably about forty-five, a young boy, and another girl, probably about thirteen.”
“Get rid of the old broad and the boy. I may come back for the girl later.”
“Gotcha boss.”
Dehydrated and exhausted, Melanie somehow found more tears, crying as she heard and comprehended
what the man was saying. Unable to do anything to stop it, she swore she would get revenge on this man.
Somehow.
She heard and felt the motorcycle slow before it turned to the right and accelerated, cruising up a small hill before it slowed again as it rode slowly across gravel. She felt the bike come to a stop, leaning to the left as the kickstand was set. She heard the other motorcycles come to a stop nearby as well.
Hands untied the ropes that held her against the backrest and she was lifted from the bike before being set down. Her legs were weak from exhaustion, and she fell to the ground, landing on her butt. She heard the men laugh before her captor reached forward and yanked off her hood. Light again blinded her as she looked up at his hideous face.
The man sneered at her, his tobacco stained teeth showing. “Get up.”
Unable to use her hands, still tied behind her back, she struggled to get a foot under her. Eventually she managed to, and she rose to her feet unsteadily.
“Good, now let’s go.” The man’s massive hand grabbed her left bicep and he pulled her towards a massive house that sat on a small hill, surrounded by grass and trees. She could hear the sounds of a party coming from the back part of the house. Splashing sounds could be heard over the music, telling her there was a pool as well.
She was dragged into the house through two wide open double doors. In the entryway, she saw splatters of blood on the walls and floor, as well as streaks of blood leading from the entryway to a closed door on the right. Recognizing what it was, she stumbled at the sight, nearly collapsing again. The man pulled her up violently, the muscles in her shoulder straining with the force of his strength.
“Calm down, bitch. I ain’t gonna kill ya.” The man said, leaning close. His breath reeked of cigars and alcohol, and it was enough to make her recoil in disgust. The man grinned as his hand crept down her back towards her butt. “At least not until we have some fun.” Melanie felt his hand grab her roughly as he spoke, still moving her with him towards what she assumed was one of the bedrooms.
‘Oh, god, he’s going to rape me,’ she thought, her stomach churning.
At the end of the hall, she saw a set of double doors with a chain wrapped around the handles. A large padlock held the chains in place. Using a key on the same ring that held the key to his motorcycle, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a large bedroom, the center of which was dominated by a king sized four-poster bed. There were three women were on the bed, pressed back against the headboard with their knees drawn up to their chest, fear showing on their collective faces.
The man pulled Melanie to him, turning her around to face him. Holding a large hunting knife up, he smiled at her. “Don’t move.” His hands reached behind her back and she felt the ropes behind her fall away as the knife cut through them with ease. Her arms and shoulders cried out in relief as she was finally able to move them after being bound for 20+ hours. She let her arms hang at her side, flexing her fingers as the blood flowed to her sore muscles.
One of the women on the bed, a skinny blonde with long hair and a big chest spoke up. “She’s really young, Big John. Can’t you let her go?”
The man growled at her, his eyes burning with anger. “If I wanted anything from you, you’d know it. Now shut the fuck up.”
The woman raised her hands, leaning back on the bed. “Okay, sorry.”
He pushed Melanie towards the bed. “Clean her up and get her some water. I’ll be back later.” His eyes narrowed as he leered at her. “Then we’ll have some fun.” With that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the chains being pulled back in place reverberated against the door.
“Come here, sweetie, let me help you.” Turning her head, Melanie saw a Hispanic woman with shoulder length brown hair, tan skin, and dark eyes, sliding over to the edge of the bed. When she was next to Melanie, she reached up and gently pulled the hair back from her face. “Wow, you’re a pretty one.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Melanie asked, her voice cracking. In her heart she knew what would happen, but silently she wished that there was a different possibility.
A black woman, wearing a red tank top that had been torn and tied back together to cover her chest, spoke up. “He’s going to rape you.”
“Sasha!” The two other women exclaimed in protest.
Sasha put up her hands. “Hey, I’m just trying to let her know what the inevitable is. He raped you, Brittney,” she pointed at the blonde woman, who looked away, staring at the floor, “and he raped you, too, Victoria.” The Hispanic woman stared back at the other woman unflinchingly.
“He had sex with me against my will. He did not take my spirit, and he will not take my spirit, no matter how many times he uses my body.” The woman’s eyes burned with intensity as she spoke, her fists clenched.
Wanting to break the tension, Melanie asked, “How long have you two been here?”
Sasha slid from the bed and walked over to where Melanie sat as she responded. “Brittney and I have been here for two days. When the outbreak began, the cops were too busy to respond to anything other than the attacks by the infected people on the innocent. Big John and his gang came into the night club we worked at and just took us.”
“What? How? Didn’t anyone try to help?
“Against him and his gang? Hell nah. They’ve got bad attitudes and a lot of guns. One of the guys in his gang, a guy with a buzz cut, shot the bartender just to get everyone to shut up.”
Brittney began crying, burying her head and her hands.
Sasha lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning in. “The bartender was her boyfriend.”
Victoria continued. “I got here yesterday morning. They grabbed me at the grocery store, where I was trying to get food for my sister’s child.
Looking towards the door, she went on. “These pendejos never stop partying, and every once in a while, Big John gets horny. Then he comes for us. He puts two of us in the master bath while he has his way with the other.”
Melanie shook her head, disgusted.
“On the bright side, he’s really, really small.” Brittney said from her spot on the bed.
Sasha snorted. “Yeah, tiny!”
The women broke into laughter at that, and Melanie couldn’t help but join in, even though she had no firsthand reference. She’d never done anything more than kissing, and it pained her to think that her first time would be taken by force.
The women used washcloths from the bathroom to clean her face, wiping away the streaks of tears, as well as the dirt and grime that had flown up during the ride, which the hood had done little to block.
When they were done, they offered her a bottle of water, which she gladly accepted. As soon as the first sip hit her tongue she realized how thirsty she was and downed the entire bottle before reaching for another one.
Sasha grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Hold on.”
“What? Please, I’m so -” A wave of pain hit her as the water accumulated in her stomach. Cramps followed, making her slide down to the hardwood floor and curl up into a ball.
“Try to relax and breathe. Your body was trying to conserve water when you were forced to go without it. Drinking so much at once overloaded your digestive system.”
Melanie looked up at Sasha, seeing the compassion in her eyes. “How do you know all this?”
“I’m studying pre-med at CSU San Marcos ...or at least I was.” She turned to look out the window.
Rising to her knees, Melanie began to work her way to her feet. “I need to pee.”
Victoria put her hand out, grabbing Melanie’s shoulder. “Don’t go in the bathroom.”
“What? Why not?”
“One of the infected is in there. He’s dead, but still, you don’t want to touch anything he touched.”
“How did that happen?”
Brittney spoke up next. “Apparently when they dragged us here, the woman who lived here answered the door, thinking they were the police, who
she’d called. She told them her husband had gone crazy after slipping in the shower and he was beating against the door and walls, trying to get out. They shot her, then came in here, opened the door, and shot him in the head with a shotgun.”
“Holy shit.”
Brittney nodded in agreement. “Yeah. They just wanted this house.” She looked towards the bathroom door. “So anyway, just use the sink on the right. We all are. We keep the one on the left for washing up.”
“Okay.” Melanie rose to her feet, staring at the door to the bathroom as she walked past. Climbing up onto the sink, she began to pee, feeling tremendous relief as she did. Relaxing momentarily, she let her mind wander. Immediately it went back to the vision of her father’s blood and brains sliding down the glass of the van’s window. She heard Big John’s voice in her head. ‘ Get rid of the old broad and the boy. I may come back for the girl later. ’ Tears began to flow again as she thought of her mother and her siblings. By now her mother and little brother were dead. Would Big John actually try to use her sister for whatever perverted things he had in mind? Thinking of his groping hands and leering eyes, her mind told her that he absolutely would. What could she do, though? She was just a teenage girl with little to no fighting skills.
As she hopped off the counter, she reached over for the roll of toilet paper they’d kept nearby. Wiping herself, she tossed the used paper into a wastebasket near the closed door to the toilet. Seeing a bloody towel stuffed against the bottom of the door to stop the flow of blood, she had a thought.
Walking back to the bed, she asked the women, “so what happens after Big John is done with us?”
Sasha met her eyes before responding. “He kills us.”
“Why?”
“Honey, we aren’t allowed to talk to no one. He uses us, and he leaves. My guess is that he doesn’t want us telling his buddies that he’s got a small dick.”
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 28