The other family was more familiar to him: a white family consisting of a father, mother, son, and daughter from the Midwest. The father, a big, heavy man with a receding hairline and two-to-three chins based on how he was sitting, informed him that they’d traveled all the way from Oklahoma to visit Southern California, and after spending a week at Disneyland, California Adventure, and Knott’s Berry Farm, they’d decided to take a break from the rush and visit Big Bear. “What a stroke of luck!” He told Grayson and the others after they’d been informed of the numerous fires that were in the process of leveling Los Angeles.
‘We’ll see how lucky you feel when it’s all said and done,’ Grayson thought as he looked over at the man’s wife, a blonde woman with big hips, a thick waist and really, really large breasts. The woman’s voice was high-pitched and nasally, something that bugged the crap out of Grayson, but he’d find a way to shut her up. The son was a big kid, clearly taking after his dad, but without the extra weight his dad carried in the midsection. Apparently the kid was the defensive captain of the high school football team back where they were from, and looked to be at least six-one and two-twenty, which was pretty big for a sixteen year old, no matter where you’re from. He’d have to figure out what to do with the kid if his plan was going to come to fruition. A little extra muscle might be good to have around, but he saw no way to swing the boy to his side while executing the plan he intended to put in motion.
The daughter would be an issue no matter what. The girl had Down’s syndrome, and while the passengers all found her sweet and somewhat amusing, she irritated Grayson to no end. If it were up to him, she’d be the first he’d toss over the side, but that wouldn’t be easy with her brother and dad around.
“Excuse me, officer?”
“Deputy.” Grayson responded, not looking at the black man.
“I’m sorry?”
Now Grayson did look at the man, impatience showing on his face. “The correct title is Deputy, not officer.”
“Sorry, my mistake. Deputy. Um, what’s our plan, here? We’re all hungry and nearly out of water. We can’t stay out here forever.”
Deputy Grayson Halwell nodded as he replied. “I agree.” Looking towards the shore, he wondered what they’d face when they docked. With the rest of the police force gone, he’d be the lone law enforcement officer in Big Bear City. Smiling, he turned to Kyle. “Take us in, brother.”
“We’re going back?” The black man, who’d introduced himself as Harold, asked.
“Yeah. Figure we gotta. Just gotta take care of a few things first.”
Harold looked around, confused. “Out here? What do you have to take care of?”
Standing up as the boat smoothly accelerated across the calm surface of the lake, Grayson Halwell took out his service revolver, flicked the safety off, and shot the big teenager between the eyes, snapping his head back. The boy’s body went limp, sliding down the bench seat onto the floor of the boat, leaving a long trail of blood behind him. Before the family could react, Grayson swung the barrel over to the father and pulled the trigger. Blood, bone, and brain splattered against the rear of the seats as the man’s wife began screaming uncontrollably.
Grayson Halwell looked sideways at the black man as he lowered his gun, keeping it at the ready should he need it. He grinned at the man, whose eyes were wide in shock, like those of the other passengers. “Hey Harold?”
The man brought his hands up in surrender. “Yes?”
“Call me Sheriff.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Big Bear Lake, California
Isabella Rodriguez was scared, tired, hungry, and alone. Her hair was dirty and unkempt, her clothes disheveled and torn. At nine years old, she had always been thin for her age, but at this point, anyone who saw her would consider her almost skeletal. She’d barely slept over the last three days, and what little food she did consume had come from the dumpsters behind the local restaurants, which she’d scrounged through in an effort to curb her near-constant hunger. She saw people from time to time, but remained in the shadows, hiding from them. Any one of them could turn into one of those ‘things’ and attack her, likely ending her life in seconds.
She longed for how things were less than a week ago, when she and her family had been happy, spending time in the park together. Her father had been determined to make her a great soccer player, and he’d spent hours helping her work on her ball-handling skills. While it was tiring and repetitive, she never complained. Time with papa was always wonderful. He worked two jobs to make ends meet, and as a result he was rarely home for dinner, let alone an afternoon in the park. They’d played and laughed, enjoying every second of it until her mother forced them to stop and take a break to eat. After they finished the meal of arroz con pollo (chicken and rice) she’d brought, her mother and father surprised her with a birthday present. While they made her keep her eyes closed, her father had quietly gone to the car and retrieved the gift, setting it in front of her. When her mother told her to open her eyes, she opened them to see a brand new bicycle, exactly what she’d been wanting for the last year. Her heart filled with love and joy at that moment, and she’d hugged her parents with everything she’d had before jumping up and climbing on the bike so that she could ride it around the park.
Those memories seemed faded as her mind processed everything she and her family had been through over the last four days. She and her family had arrived in Big Bear after fleeing from the suburbs of Los Angeles.
Prior to leaving L.A., her father had been acting strange, saying the government was going to start rounding up people for execution, and if they didn’t leave, he’d be one of the ones they took into custody. Isabella had seen this type of paranoia from him before, when the previous president had been having ICE gather up anyone who looked Hispanic and checking their immigration status. Though their family had legally immigrated and obtained citizen status, they personally knew numerous people who had been through the process and spent days in custody while their paperwork was ‘vetted.’
Nevertheless, Isabella’s father had been scared and determined to get away. When the idea of going to the mountains had been presented by Isabella’s mother, he’d instantly jumped at it, grabbing clothing, snacks, blankets, and pillows, throwing them in the trunk and backseat of the car in a haphazard fashion. Within the hour, they’d been cruising down the 210 freeway, carefully obeying the speed limit so as not to gain unwanted attention from the authorities.
When Isabella had needed to pee, her father had nearly ripped her head off, screaming and yelling, asking her if she understood how serious things were. As she began to cry, her mother had stepped in, unleashing a torrent of Spanish on the man, wearing him down until he pulled off the freeway at the first sight of a McDonald’s.
Inside, she’d used the restroom before being led to the counter to order food. Feeling sufficiently cowed, her father bought her a soft serve ice cream cone as well, and for once, the ice cream machine actually worked.
As they waited in line for her food, Isabella licked her ice cream cone, growing concerned as she watched her father. In the cool air conditioned interior of the fast food restaurant, he was sweating profusely as he stood there, tapping his foot impatiently. Long trails of sweat ran down his dark brown skin, dampening the collar of his shirt. He wiped away what he could, using a stack of napkins he’d grabbed from the dispenser near the counter. On top of that, he routinely coughed into the crook of his arm, a deep, rumbling cough that was full of phlegm. He looked sick, and Isabella wondered if the stress was causing it. She’d heard in her health sciences class that stress could cause a person to get sick, so she figured maybe that was what it was.
“You okay, Daddy?” She asked, taking her attention away from the ice cream and looking up at him.
He reached down and patted her head, reassuring her. “I’m fine, mija. Just allergies.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She replied, returning her attention to her
ice cream cone.
With their food in hand, they returned to the car, where her father quickly put the car in gear and drove off before any of them even finished buckling their seat belts.
Isabella and her mother wished they could have remained in the cool air conditioned restaurant while they ate, rather than sweating while they rode in an old blue Hyundai Elantra with the broken A/C, but Isabella’s father had already considered the stop a compromise.
Soon they were winding their way up the road that led to Big Bear, the little car’s engine working hard throughout the climb. As sudden as the trip was, with little planning or preparation, Isabella was still excited about it. She’d never been to Big Bear, and she wondered how many bears they’d actually see during their visit. Looking out the window of the car, she smiled, feeling happy as she realized that the impromptu trip also meant lots of time with her father.
Her mother said very little during the ride, only asking if he was ok when he coughed too much and offering napkins when the ones he’d been using began to fall apart from use.
Eventually, riding in the backseat of the little car in the early afternoon heat began to wear Isabella out. Even with all of the cars windows open, the fresh air flowing in did little to combat the late Spring Southern California heat, and it got harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open. Resting her head against the frame around the passenger side back door, she closed her eyes, letting the hum of the car’s engine and the gentle swaying caused by her father’s repeated back and forth maneuvers take her away into a light slumber.
Surprisingly, she managed to remain asleep until they reached the lake, waking only when she heard her mother’s voice softly calling to her.
“Mija, look at the lake.”
Yawning, Isabella stretched lightly before leaning forward to look out the windshield of the car. There, stretching away in front of her, was the biggest lake she’d ever seen. Having spent all of her relatively short life in Los Angeles, she knew her experience with this sort of thing was lacking, but she was still impressed. The blue water looked clean and inviting, its surface covered with little whitecaps caused by the wind.
“Mama, it’s so pretty!”
As she watched, a fish leaped out of the water, trying to catch a fly. It crashed down in the water, causing a small splash as it did.
“Wow! Did you see that!!” She cried out excitedly.
“Shhhh, Mija. Papa’s got a headache.”
She leaned back in her seat, her eyes still watching the lake’s surface. Lowering her voice, she softly replied. “Okay. Sorry, papa.”
Her father grunted in response, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he guided the car along the small, winding road that led into the small city. They passed hotels, fishing supply stores, ski and snowboarding equipment rentals, and several liquor stores before her father drove the car down the small street that led into what was known as Big Bear Village.
“Hungry.” He mumbled, looking for somewhere to park. As they passed a small Mexican food restaurant, they saw a sign for parking. The arrow pointed to an area behind the Jack in the Box, so they dutifully followed the directions, finding a spot in the big lot.
As the family got out of the car and began to walk back towards where they’d seen the Mexican food restaurant, her father began to hold his head, squinting his eyes to partially block out the afternoon sun.
“Mi amor, te sientes bien?” Her mother asked, trying to see if her father was feeling okay.
“De nada. Tengo hambre.” He replied, saying it was nothing and that he was hungry.
As they reached the street, her father slipped, losing his balance and falling into a parked white Acura coupe, slamming his elbow into the hood. The car’s alarm immediately sounded, wailing loudly. Her father brought his hands up to his ears, trying to block the noise as he slid to the ground. On his knees, he doubled over, lowering his head until it was on the ground as he continued to press the palms of his hands against his ears.
“Mi amor?” Isabella’s mother asked, her eyes widening with fear and concern as she watched him.
Her father’s voice was barely audible when he responded. “De nada….” Suddenly his fist lashed out, striking the grill of the car. Isabella heard the bones in his hand break at impact, but her father didn’t acknowledge it. Rising to his feet, his face contorted in rage, he turned to the car’s hood and began slamming both hands on the hood, shaking the car.
People began to gather at the sight of the enraged man beating the car, and Isabella’s mother knew it was only a matter of minutes before someone called the police.
“Por favor, deje de…” Her mother said, asking him to stop.
At the sound of her voice, Isabella’s father spun around, took one step, and leveled her mother with a vicious punch to the center of her face, breaking her nose. Blood splashed outward from her face as the woman fell backwards onto the sidewalk. Leaping onto her mother, Isabella’s father began pummeling the woman’s face, hitting every visible part of it as if he were determined to destroy every feature she had.
Isabella was aware of the fact that she was screaming as this happened, but she was unable to move her feet, frozen in fear by the sudden violence the father she’d always loved had suddenly unleashed.
In the fog of her fear, the young girl heard a loud voice boom, “Sir, I need you to stop what you’re doing, and back away from the woman!”
Looking in the direction of the voice, she saw a policeman, standing several feet away. His feet were set wide as he rested his hand on the grip of his pistol.
Isabella’s father turned and looked at the policeman, snarling. He stood up from where he’d been straddling her mother, his hands covered in blood.
In that instant, Isabella knew she had to get away, but as her brain sent the signal to her feet, his left arm snapped out and grabbed Isabella’s arm. The fingers dug into the flesh of her arm, breaking the skin. She screamed, tugging and pulling as she tried to escape her father’s grip.
“Sir! Let go of the girl and step back!” The policeman pulled his gun out and pointed it at the man.
Suddenly, another man tackled Isabella’s father, taking him to the ground. Her father fingers dragged down her arm as he was torn away, leaving deep grooves in her forearm. Pulling her arm free, Isabella turned and ran, hearing more screams behind her as she ran as fast as her thin legs would take her. She pushed her limits, passing coffee shops and restaurants as she fled down the hill, toward the lake.
Reaching the far end of the street, she heard the sound of a powerful engine coming closer from somewhere behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that it was a police vehicle, a big, white SUV with black metal bars attached to the front bumper. The lights atop the vehicle flashed brightly as it charged down the street towards her.
In a panic, she pushed herself harder, certain that the vehicle was coming for her.
Maybe the police would say it was her fault.
Maybe they’d put her in jail.
Maybe the policeman would point that big, awful looking gun at her.
Her lungs burned as she tried to draw in more and more oxygen to fuel her muscles, and she knew she’d collapse if she didn’t stop soon. She rounded the corner, turning onto Big Bear Boulevard. Seeing a gas station ahead, she ran across the parking lot, her shoes slapping the pavement. Her eyes settled on a dumpster near the side of the building, and she curved across the parking lot towards it, grabbing its side as she positioned her body behind it. Though she didn’t hear a siren, the unmistakable sound of the big SUV’s engine told her the vehicle had gone right through the traffic light, apparently not seeing her turn. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat back against the dumpster, closing her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving.
“You okay, there, miss?”
Opening her eyes suddenly, she saw a tall white man in cowboy boots, jeans held up by a wide leather belt with a big metal buckle, and a green t-shirt with a fish on it.
The man’s face showed concern as he looked down at her.
Rising to her feet quickly, she replied, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She immediately began walking back across the parking lot towards the sidewalk. Looking around, she didn’t see the policeman’s SUV, but she could hear sirens in the distance. Clearly, the man had asked for help in trying to locate her.
With that, she went into hiding, staying out of sight as much as possible, finding food wherever she could. The hiding part got easier over the last two days, as it seemed that there were fewer and fewer people around, but as a result, finding food got harder. Fewer people meant fewer customers, which meant less food waste.
Which brought her to her current situation: hiding in the shadows behind the middle school, waiting for night to fall. Her stomach rumbled, her skin itched, and since they hadn’t opened the public restrooms today - nothing seemed to be open - her privates hurt from not being able to wash up after three days.
With no idea what to do or where to go, she got up, looked around, and walked to the fence that encompassed the school. Looking around once more, she jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence. Lifting herself up, she swung a leg over the top of the fence, swiveled atop it as she brought the other leg around, and dropped to the ground.
She crossed the small grass field towards the small outdoor eating area. Choosing a table close to one of the buildings that would hide her from sight, she crawled underneath, curling up tightly in an effort to stay warm.
As darkness fell, and the cold night enveloped her, she began to cry.
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 40