Surviving Rage | Book 1

by Arellano, J. D.

  There, he’d sipped from a bottle of water, struggling to finish half of it before setting it aside and grabbing a frozen bean and cheese burrito from the freezer. After heating it in the microwave, he was surprised to find that the burrito actually helped settle his stomach a bit. Perhaps it was simply having something there to absorb the alcohol he’d consumed the night before in his office.

  Once he’d finished the burrito and the bottle of water, he’d grabbed a second bottle and returned to his office, where he now sat, trying in vain to figure out what he’d unleashed upon the world, and more importantly, how to stop it.

  Nothing made sense. He’d carefully reviewed each patient in advance to ensure they were in good health. He’d verified the dosages and checked levels of the drug’s presence in patients’ blood during their monthly visits. With only two exceptions, all of the patients were cancer free after completing treatment. It should have been considered a resounding success. At this point, he should have been being celebrated, his face plastered on the cover of Time, Newsweek, and every major newspaper, along with all of the medical journals.

  Instead, he was here, trying to find what went wrong. Trying to determine how to fix it, how to undo what he’d done. To have another chance to do it all over.

  And drinking himself into oblivion.

  He felt fairly certain that the authorities were looking for him now, and when they found him, he’d either have a cure, or he’d end his life. The thought of being the singular cause of the end of humanity was too much. Having the world know it was somehow worse.

  He took another drink from the bottle.

  Maybe he should end it all right now. Even if he found the problem and identified a cure today, by the time the cure was released to the public, there would be hundreds of thousands of people dead, if not more.

  Opening the top drawer of his desk, he looked at the gun he’d brought with him when he’d arrived the day before. The gun was black with a brown handgrip, an old Smith and Wesson pistol his dad had given him before his death fifteen years ago.

  Taking the gun out of the drawer, he looked at it, feeling the weight in his hand as he did.

  Thinking back to what his father had told him, he chuckled slightly.

  ‘I hope you never have to use it, but if you do, don’t miss.’

  Ironic.

  Holding the gun in his right hand, he reached for the bottle of whiskey with his left. Bringing it to his lips, he took another swig. The brown liquid burned his throat as it went down. It was meant to be savored, not gulped.

  ‘Damn it.’

  Doctor Michael Roberts put the gun back in the drawer and closed it, reaching for another patient file.

  What was it that the patients had in their systems that had made them react to his revolutionary drug so violently?

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  “Please help me!! Please! He’s crazy!” The woman ran, sidestepping bushes as the fat man in the automotive service department uniform chased her. Her movements were frantic as she scrambled to escape the crazed man that was getting closer with every second.

  Bringing the gun up, he braced himself, his finger on the trigger, giving the slightest squeeze. It wasn’t enough to fire the weapon, but the remaining distance between where the trigger was and where it needed to be to send metal towards the target was mere millimeters.

  Dipping and dodging, nearly falling, the woman’s head kept bouncing in and out of his line of fire.

  ‘No shot.’

  ‘No shot.’

  The woman leapt over the hedge, only to be caught midair and pulled backward. As her forward momentum was stopped, in the instant before she fell backwards onto the concrete, in that last split second of her life, her eyes locked with his.

  Why couldn’t you save me?

  Daniel woke with a start, his body jerking in the sleeping bag he shared with Serafina. ‘Shit,’ he thought. In his mind he could still see the woman’s pleading eyes, the same eyes that told him he’d failed.

  Knowing there’d be no more sleep, he decided to get up. He knew from years of experience that remaining next to his wife when he couldn’t sleep was a recipe for trouble. If he wasn’t sleeping, he needed to move, otherwise his back would lock up or his knees would ache. On the occasions he’d remained in bed, his constant moving to adjust for the aches and pains interrupted Serafina’s sleep, and that had a tendency (more of a certainty, if he was being honest with himself) to make her grouchy.

  Grimacing, he slid his body up and out of the sleeping bag slowly, careful not to nudge or bump Serafina. He realized his shirt was soaked with sweat, and though it was a cool summer evening, he knew he’d have to deal with it. All the other clothes were inside the Jeep or on top of it in the cargo carrier. Accessing them would be too noisy.

  From where he sat, he could see the white of Paul’s bandages as his head moved in the dark. The young man had heard him and turned around to see what was going on. Daniel raised his hand to indicate that he’d seen him as well, and the teenager returned the gesture silently.

  After lacing up his boots, he got to his feet slowly, his back and knees crying out in protest. ‘Getting old sucks,’ he thought as he stepped silently into the men’s room to relieve himself. Afterwards he turned the water on slightly, let it pool in his hands, and splashed it on his face before exiting the bathroom and walking over to join Paul on the bumper of the Jeep.

  “Give me a couple of minutes, then you can hit the hay.” He whispered to the young man.

  Paul leaned close, whispering, “You sure? I thought your wife was next up.”

  “I’ll let her sleep. Five hours is enough for me.”

  Paul nodded, looking out towards the park. With the exception of the wind and the constant noise coming from the multitudes of crickets, the night was quiet.

  After several minutes, he told the young man to go to bed and took over the watch, now fully awake with his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  He walked over to the nearest picnic table and climbed on top of it. There, he began doing exercises: squats, pushups, crunches, tricep dips, and lunges. He paused between each set to look and listen, making sure nothing was amiss. After he’d done one hundred of each, he took time to stretch, enjoying the feeling of the warm muscles adjusting to the tension.

  He looked at his watch. It was 2:15, still several hours before the sun would rise from the other side of the restrooms. By all accounts the family would be better rested than any of them had thought they’d be.

  Realizing he hadn’t searched the Honda Civic when he’d moved it into position, he walked over and gently eased open the door to the car. Making sure it would stay open, he slid into the car, careful not to make it rock too much. Pulling gloves from the pocket of his vest, he began to look around the car.

  On the floor of the passenger side, he found a purse. Dumping the contents onto the passenger seat, he quickly determined that there were a few things of value, and a large number of things that were worthless to them. A small battery pack, a bottle of Pamprin, a folding pocket mirror, and a small tube of toothpaste were in the former group, while chapstick, old hair ties, a selfie stick, a partially eaten Snickers, a bottle of eye liner, an eyelash brush, and a small travel size stick of deodorant were of the latter.

  He pulled the wallet aside and looked in it. Amelia Bautista, age 19. She was a student at the nearby San Jacinto Community College. ‘What a shame,’ Daniel thought, opening the billfold part of the wallet. Inside was forty-three dollars. Feeling guilty for some reason, he took the money, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket. Setting the wallet aside, he got out of the car and took a long look around before getting back in and continuing with his inventory of the car’s contents.

  In the cup holder, he found the woman’s phone, which he pocketed as well. They could do a factory reset on the device and use it. The glove compartment held nothing but the car’s registration documents and a receipt for a recent oil change at the nearby Honda de
aler.

  In the backseat, he found a small, lightweight sweater which he decided to set aside in case any of the women wanted it. He also found a backpack with three textbooks: Calculus I, World History, and Philosophy. ‘Keeping these, too,’ he thought. He had no idea how long this outbreak would last, and if it lasted too long, he’d have the girls and Paul study from the texts.

  ‘When this was all said and done, it’ll be one hell of a dark part in our world’s history,’ he said to himself.

  He got out and looked around again, taking time to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Nothing. Taking his time, he walked around the small brick building, looking all around for signs of movement. Still nothing. This really was a great spot to rest. Serafina had done well in choosing the place.

  Returning to the small car, he popped the trunk. To his great surprise, there was a set of jumper cables, which seemed completely unnecessary for a car that appeared to be less than a year old. Regardless, they could definitely come in handy at some point. He took them out and set them aside. He found a volleyball and a pair of knee pads in a mesh bag, and a twelve pack of Coca-Cola. Pulling one of the cans from the pack he turned and walked about 50 yards away before pulling the tab to open it. When the carbonated liquid hit his tongue, it was like a shot of adrenaline. His senses perked up and his taste buds came alive. While he normally shied away from soda, especially the non-diet ones, this was an exception he was willing to make, and at that moment he decided to savor it.

  Walking back to the car, soda in hand, he continued looking through the trunk. There was little else, other than a shoe box with a pair of black high heels and Macy’s bag with a pair of party dresses, both with the tags still on them.

  He left the door and trunk open, not wanting to wake the family, and took the items he’d gathered - including the 12-pack of Coke - over to the table, where he laid them out on the surface. He sat back on the bench and slowly sipped his soda, relishing the taste.

  When dawn came, Daniel opened the back gate of the Jeep and withdrew the box of food that held their granola bars, fruit, and protein bars. He reached in and pulled out five empty water bottles. He took them into the bathroom and rinsed them thoroughly before taking them to the water fountain and filling them. Using available water now would allow them to save their remaining water for later.

  Serafina was the first to stir, stretching quietly as he watched her. He felt the urge to crawl back into the sleeping bag and snuggle with her, this wasn’t the time, and it definitely wasn’t the place.

  When she rose, she looked at him questioningly. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She mouthed.

  Daniel gave her the ‘OK’ sign, nodding and smiling. She slid out of bed, slid on her boots, and went into the ladies room. Daniel looked around once more before hopping over the bumper, separating the sleeping bags, and re-rolling them so that they’d fit back into their tiny little bags.

  When Serafina returned he walked her over to where the sodas were, opened one, and handed it to her. Her eyes widened instantly, and she took a long drink from the can. Pulling the can away from her mouth, she let out a loud burp involuntarily.

  Daniel put his finger up to his mouth. “Shhhhh!!”

  Serafina shook her head before turning away and starting to pick out things they could each eat for breakfast.

  Daniel looked at his watch again. It was 5:45. ‘Close enough.’

  “Alright girls, alright Paul, time to get up.” He said, keeping his voice low, but loud enough for them to hear. The girls groaned as the rolled over, stretching their arms above their head. Paul, on the other hand, simply sat up and began rubbing his eyes. He looked over at Daniel. “Did you stay up the entire time?”

  Daniel nodded. “Of course. I’m used to it. Just gotta stay active.” Looking around, he said, “Alright, you three get cleaned up. I’ll roll these bags up. Don’t get used to it, though. Next time you’ll be doing it yourself. I just want to get on the road as soon as possible.”

  The three of them nodded and headed to the bathrooms while Daniel worked.

  The family was back on the road by 6:20, even sooner than Daniel had hoped for. They even had a relatively easy drive back to the freeway, needing to cross over the median only once over the two and a half mile drive.

  Heading up the 215 North, they traveled along its length, using the freeway most of the way, and using the center median at other times. The road was in the process of being widened, and construction crews had cleared the brush and rocks from the middle, then leveled it before their work was interrupted. Whenever the freeway itself was too obstructed, Daniel simply pulled the vehicle into the median, switched over to four-wheel drive, and cruised, the Jeep’s rugged suspension easily handling the uneven surface.

  As they drove north, the Serafina and the kids looked out the windows for signs of life. In some places they remarked on lights being on in distant houses and in the occasional store or restaurant, but by and large, all was quiet.

  Passing through Sun City, then the small town of Perris, Daniel knew they’d be upon the March Air Reserve Base in short order. He wondered if the base would be on lockdown, operational, or overrun. He figured the odds were that it was on lockdown, with no one allowed in or out. Even his retired military identification would be of little use in that situation.

  Three miles from the base, they saw plumes of smoke rising from that direction, polluting the sky with grey. Getting closer, they were able to see multiple hangar buildings collapsed and burning. Much like the retirement community Serafina had seen the day prior, no one was working to fight the fires that raged on the base. Closer to the freeway, a large C-17 cargo plane had veered off the runway and crashed into the barbed wire fence. Peering towards the cockpit, Serafina was able to ascertain that no one was at the controls. Scanning downward, she saw several bodies at the base of the aircraft, unmoving on the hard surface of tarmac.

  “Oh my god!” Brenna cried from the back seat.

  “What is it?” Daniel asked, turning his head briefly before looking ahead, focused on avoiding the cars and trucks that cluttered the freeway.

  “There’s a woman on the fence!” She responded, pointing.

  Daniel heard Serafina say, “Oh, shit.”

  A black woman in a flight suit was atop the fence, stuck in the razor wire and on a sharp tipped metal post that had punctured her leg. She thrashed back and forth wildly, causing blood to spray out from the wound in her leg and from the multiple places where the razor wire had shredded her skin. The woman’s flight suit was torn in multiple places, with pieces of it left behind on the tips of the ultra-sharp metal bands that lined the top of the fence. As they watched, the woman screamed in frustration, lunging forward with all of her strength. The motion caused the woman’s leg to pull up slightly off of the pole, before the forward movement dragged the sharp tip through the first inch of her thigh. Blood sprayed in a fanlike pattern, glistening in the morning sun as the woman fought and clawed her way through the razor wire, oblivious to the gaping wound in her leg or the way that her struggles with the wire had reduced her hands to something resembling raw hamburger meat.

  Finally, the woman’s lower body fell through the wire as gravity assisted with her efforts. With the weight of her body hanging freely, the woman began to slide downward, the jagged metal edges ripping and tearing her skin as she did. A sharp edge of the metal caught on the left side of her face, digging into her cheek, and began carving a path upward as her body descended. The metal’s razor edge, combined with the gravitational force of the woman’s slowly falling body caused the edge to dig deep into the flesh, ripping a thick flap of skin away from her face as she finally broke free, falling to the ground in a heap.

  As Daniel continued to maneuver the Jeep northward, using the shoulder and center median, Serafina and the kids watched as the woman forced herself up into a standing position, her leg, face and hands bleeding profusely. Standing there on unsteady legs, she looked around, surveying the ar
ea like a drone looking for something to destroy. When her gaze swung in their direction, she saw their Jeep moving slowly through the numerous obstacles on the road.

  Letting out a primal roar, the woman lifted her head to the sky momentarily before returning her gaze to their Jeep.

  She charged towards the Jeep, arms and legs flailing as she did. Still two hundred plus yards away, the family watched as the woman ran across the grass on the embankment that bordered the base and the freeway’s shoulder.

  Though the woman’s rage didn’t falter, her strength did. Her steps got slower and slower as the blood drained from the woman. She slowed to a fast walk, then a slow march, and finally a drunken, wandering shuffle before all of her strength was gone. She collapsed on the ground at the edge of the shoulder, falling first to her knees, then face first onto the gravel and dirt that lined the road. The woman’s body shuddered once, then went still.

  The family looked away from the dead body, joining Daniel in looking ahead. Silence took over the Jeep as they considered what they’d seen. It seemed clear that the infected had no reaction to pain. It also seemed clear that their cognitive abilities were greatly impacted by the virus. No one in their right mind would try to simply climb over razor wire; it was by way too sharp to simply endure. The woman’s wild, jerking movements had also done additional damage to her leg, and she’d been either unable or unwilling to figure out how to get her leg off of the pole gracefully.

  As the 215 North curved away from the base, it descended down towards Riverside, where the freeway widened again. More and more cars were on the road slowing them further as the options for moving forward decreased. The center median all but disappeared, removing that option as well as the space between the north and south-bound lanes was replaced by carpool lanes. They realized that they were spending the majority of their time going laterally vice forward, and Serafina decided to begin looking at alternative routes as Daniel cursed under his breath with frustration.