Surviving Rage | Book 1

by Arellano, J. D.

  “That’s definitely not what I meant. Times have changed. The world has changed. On these streets,” he gestured towards the road behind him. “And on the streets across America and around the world, it’s kill or be killed.”

  He took another puff from his cigar, then passed the cutter to the big man. “Now I prefer to do the killing in that scenario, and I’m assuming you do, too.”

  Holding the cigar in his hand, he pointed to the man. “Now let me ask you this: when it’s all said and done, when people try to figure out what happened, who will determine who the infected were? Will they test the dead? Will they question those who survived?”

  He took another puff, holding it in as his words resonated. Exhaling, he continued. “Or, will the survivors tell the story? I think, to know the answer to that question, you only need to answer a simple one: who writes history?” At this, he looked at the man pointedly, waiting for an answer.

  “The winners.” The man replied, nodding.

  “Exactly! And I intend to write history for this city. With my men here, we will define what the order is. WE will define how things will be run. WE will establish the man as dominant again.”

  He pointed at the patch on the man’s vest, which read ‘Diesel.’ “I don’t know about you, Diesel, but I’m kind of sick of all this feminist shit. Women need to know their place, don’t they?”

  The man nodded, as did his friend. “Fuck yeah, they do.”

  Grayson held his arms out. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.” He turned slightly, pointing towards the van they’d stolen. “See those bitches in the van, there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Goddamn lesbians. Fuckin’ pisses me off.” Shaking his head, he turned back towards Diesel. “Natural order. It needs to be restored. That’s my goal, but the bottom line is this: I need help. I need men like you, who aren’t afraid to get a little dirty.”

  He laughed, grinning at the man. “Hell, I need men who might actually look forward to getting a little dirty,” he paused for effect before finishing. “And have a little fun doing it. Now, what do you say?” He held out the lighter to the man as he waited.

  Diesel looked back as his friend, who nodded. Turning back to Grayson, he took the lighter from him, stuck the cigar in his mouth, lit it, puffing as he did, then pulled it away, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. Looking Grayson in the eye, the man grinned. “Let’s get fuckin’ dirty.”

  After returning to the Sheriff’s station to grab uniforms for Kyle and Harold, the only two who could fool people into believing they were actually part of law enforcement, Grayson had made it clear that they would continue recruiting people until he’d assembled the size of force he envisioned: One that would be able to withstand any effort from the Federal Government to revert things back to the way they were before the outbreak.

  In his mind, the outbreak had been God’s way of giving him the opportunity he’d always desired, the opportunity to run things, and he was going to make the most of it. If people died along the way, well, tough shit. The best and strongest leaders throughout history had bloody pasts, didn’t they?

  With a growing number of armed henchmen, and a group of prisoners that were both burdensome and currently unemployed, it quickly became clear they needed to establish a base of operations. Somewhere to rest and recharge. Somewhere to get a decent meal and a good night’s sleep. The men would enjoy themselves, while the prisoners would serve them, cleaning, cooking, and, at least for the women, keeping the men company.

  Looking up at the lodge, Grayson decided it was perfect. Situated near the primary entrance into town, it offered the perfect vantage spot to watch for people both on the roads and on the lake. Additionally, the parking lot surrounding the property provided both a great staging area a great standoff distance for defending the property.

  Turning and looking to his right hand man, Grayson nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Kyle nodded and turned to the others, his shotgun resting on his shoulder. “Harold,” he said, looking at the black man, who had surprised them both by joining the group without hesitation, “you’re coming with us.” He looked over at a man who was leaning against a car, his legs crossed casually as he watched the group, his thumbs tucked in his belt. Pointing at him and then the two bikers, he said, “Ricky, you, Diesel, and Luke, stay here and keep an eye on these fucks.”

  “You got it.” Tall and good looking with sandy brown hair and an athletic build, Ricky was one of his and Grayson’s long-time friends. They’d known him since high school, having been there while the guy made his way through nearly every attractive girl in school, using his job as a ski instructor to lure them in. Ten years later, he was still a ski instructor, working only during the winters, living off his parents the rest of the year. When he did work, the money went towards booze and weed. When he didn’t, his parents' money secretly went towards booze and weed. The fact that he was slightly drunk right now concerned Kyle a bit, but looking at the group of prisoners they’d gathered, he figured it would probably be fine.

  Grayson walked to the front doors of the lodge, his chest out and shoulders back, wearing an air of authority he never had when Sheriff Sanderson was still alive. Taking hold of one of the handles, he found it locked. Through the glass, he saw a clerk, a pimply-faced teenage boy with a mop of dark hair, rush to the door, unlocking it without question. Opening it for the three men, the teenager looked up at Grayson, relief showing on his face.

  “Deputy Halwell! Thank God you’re here. We’ve been hearing about crazy people running around town, attacking others. I’ve kept everyone inside for the last few days, with the doors locked, but I have no idea if that’s enough to keep us safe.”

  Grayson smiled, looking down at the boy. “It probably isn’t.” Gazing at the people in the lobby, he considered his options. If he chose to use force right away, there were twelve people in the lobby, which wouldn’t be a problem for him and his men, but he had no idea how many others were in the lodge. He needed that bit of information first.

  He looked at the clerk again. The name tag on his chest read, ‘Dylan.’ “Dylan, where’s the manager?”

  The boy shook his head. “He went to get cigarettes, never came back.”

  “Anyone else working here?”

  He motioned to a young girl in the green and black uniform the hotel staff wore. “Just Heather.” The girl looked to be close in age to the boy, probably seventeen. Her long, blonde hair framed a pretty, youthful face. She looked away from Grayson’s leering gaze, avoiding eye contact.

  Grayson nodded. “How many guests here?”

  Dylan motioned to the group in the lobby. “Just these folks and maybe six or seven more. They’re in their rooms, probably sleeping. There hasn’t been much to do here, and people are afraid to go out.”

  Grayson looked around skeptically. “Only six or seven more?”

  The young man shrugged. “Most of the guests were out the day it all started.”

  “Alright.” Turning to Kyle and Harold, he said. “Go get them and bring them here. Dylan here will tell you what rooms they’re in. After you bring them here, get a master key and verify all the other rooms are empty.”

  The two men nodded, walking over to follow Dylan, who went to the front counter and began looking at paper receipts to see which rooms the people were in. He started reading off the room numbers when Kyle stopped him.

  “Write them down.”

  Dylan looked up, surprised. There was a pen and paper in front of the men, and he’d expected them to write the numbers down themselves. Thinking better of challenging them, he grabbed the items and began quickly transcribing the numbers onto the paper. There were four rooms for them to visit.

  Kyle looked at the teenager, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “What about the locks to the rooms? No power, right?”

  “We have physical locks on the doors as well. I gave the visitors regular keys to use.” Reaching into the drawer at his waist, he pulled
out a ring of keys. Searching through them, he finally selected one, passing it to Kyle. “This is the master key. It opens all the rooms.”

  Kyle took it from him, grinning. “Great. This the only one?”

  Dylan hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not supposed to give out these keys.”

  Kyle scoffed. “Look, it’s for the Sheriff, here. We need somewhere to stay, and he’s in charge. When everything gets back to normal, he’ll give it back.” He leaned forward, looming over the counter, intimidating the young man. His eyes narrowed as he stared into Dylan’s eyes. “Trust me.”

  Dylan didn’t trust the tall blonde man. Not one bit. Still, he knew he was in no position to argue with three officers of the law. He passed the other key to the uniformed man, looking away as he did.

  “Good choice.” Kyle grabbed a paper map of the hotel, looking for the rooms Dylan had listed. He and Harold walked away, marching down the hall, their guns slapping their hips as they walked.

  Within minutes, they returned, leading the other guests. Two of the couples were older, both men looking to be in their sixties, their wives in their fifties. One couple wore loose fitting sweats, the other polyester clothing that looked like it was made back in the fifties. The other couple was younger and well dressed; the man in slacks and a button up shirt, the woman in an expensive looking floral dress. The woman was tall, fit, and attractive, as was her partner.

  Grayson’s eyes looked up and down the woman’s body, admiring it as he thought about the fun he could have with her. The man’s presence was simply a minor obstacle, one that they could easily deal with.

  The last guest was a man in blue jeans, a solid gray t-shirt, and hiking boots. He looked to be in his late twenties, and of medium height and build. In fact, the man seemed ordinary in every way, as if he were trying to avoid attention.

  Grayson made a mental note to question the man later.

  Walking up to the group, he motioned for them to join the others. When they sat, he stared at the people gathered before him, letting the tension in the room build.

  They didn’t know what to expect, or even what was happening outside the walls of the lodge.

  Their future was a question mark; uncertainty the only thing they could anticipate.

  He would provide them the answer.

  Puffing his chest out more and raising his voice, he stepped away from the young man, moving to the center of the lobby while Kyle and Harold remained by the door, casually blocking it.

  “Listen up, people,” Grayson began, his voice booming in the large, high-ceilinged space. “There’s danger out there, danger unlike anything you’ve ever seen. People are turning rabid, attacking anyone they see.

  “Family, friends, loved ones, it doesn’t matter. They attack without hesitation.” He looked around as he spoke, making eye contact with each person.

  “They attack to kill.” The guests of the lodge looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Perfect,’ he thought before continuing. “Sheriff Sanderson is dead.” Grayson paused, letting the words sink in, achieving maximum effect, before he went on.

  “He fought valiantly, trying to save the good people of our city, but there were too many of them. He, myself, and the other deputies fought side by side, killing dozens of them, until it became clear that we could not win. In the end, Sheriff Sanderson told me to run, to hide and regroup.”

  He motioned towards Kyle and Harold. “To find reinforcements so that we could take back the city.”

  Feigning sorrow, Grayson shook his head.

  “I didn’t want to go. It’s my duty to serve and protect the people of this city, the people I’ve known my whole life. I wanted to stay and fight, but the Sheriff insisted. Someone had to survive. Someone had to fight back, to restore order, and save this city.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know why he chose me. We’d had our differences over the last year, but I guess he saw something in me. In fact, as he was forcing me to leave, he made it clear that when he died, I would become the Sheriff.” He looked around, searching the faces for any signs of resistance. He didn’t want to kill anyone here, in front of the masses, but he wouldn’t hesitate if he felt it was necessary.

  None of the people objected. They sat there, stunned at what they’d heard, looking down at their feet or the floor, wondering what the future held for them.

  After a long minute, he continued. “As Sheriff of Big Bear City, I am taking control of this lodge to make it the base of operations while my team and I clear the town of infected and other evil doers. Those who stay here will work for me and my men, keeping the place clean, cooking meals, gathering supplies, and helping us as needed.” He stopped, letting his words sink in. He saw the guests looking at each other in surprise, unsure of how to respond.

  Seizing the moment, he went on. “If you stay here and work, you will be provided protection, food, and shelter. The work may be hard, but you will be safe.”

  The old man in the polyester clothing spoke up, staring at Grayson. “What if we don’t want to stay?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Grayson saw Kyle and Harold tense up, their hands creeping toward the weapons on their belts. He extended a hand towards them, signaling for them to stand down, then walked over to the old man. The man rose from his chair as Grayson approached, standing tall in front of him.

  Grayson stuck out his hand. “What’s your name, Sir?”

  The man hesitated, surprised by the move, then reached forward and took Grayson’s hand, shaking it. “Alfred.”

  Grayson let go of the man’s hand, stepping back. “Well, Alfred, if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to.” He motioned towards the others, addressing the entire group. “That goes for all of you. If you want to leave, you’re welcome to. We just ask that you use the back exit so that you don’t attract too much attention.” He stopped, waiting for a response. A few of the guests exchanged looks, stirring in their seats. “Are there others that want to leave besides Alfred and, I’m assuming, his wife?”

  Four hands went up, including the young, well-dressed couple and another middle-aged couple who were heavyset and dressed in tourist clothing.

  “Okay. That’s fine,” he said, smiling disarmingly. “Kyle, Harold, escort these nice people to their rooms, then to the exit.” He looked back at the group. “We just ask that you all stay together so that we don’t have that door open too many times. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention. ” Making eye contact with Kyle, Grayson glanced at the woman, then back at Kyle, nodding. Kyle nodded, understanding what was being communicated.

  Kyle led some of the guests down the left hallway while Harold led the remainder down the hallway to the right. They returned a few minutes later, the guests pulling or carrying luggage as they walked.

  As they crossed the lobby, heading towards the exit on the rear side of the building, Grayson raised his hand, waving to them. “Y’all take care now. I wish you the best of luck. Be safe.”

  Kyle and Harold escorted the group through the exit and out into the parking lot, disappearing from view.

  Grayson turned back to the two hotel workers and remaining guests, smiling. “Okay, looks like it’s just us.”

  The sound of gunfire came from the area behind the hotel, shocking the group that was gathered before him. A woman cried out in fear, wrapping her arms around the man that sat beside her. Heather, the young girl that also worked for the lodge, backed away slowly, working her way toward the front door.

  Grayson pulled out his pistol and pointed it at her. “Not so fast, darling.”

  The girl froze in place, her face filled with fear.

  “Back over with the rest of our group.”

  The girl quickly complied, hurrying back over and sitting down near one of the other couples.

  Kyle and Harold burst in through the rear door, dragging the attractive woman behind them, pulling her against her will
as she struggled violently. Tears streamed down her face as she fought, cursing the men. The front of her dress was covered in blood, likely that of the man that had been with her. The two men threw her into a seat roughly then looked at Grayson.

  “It’s done.” Kyle said, looping his thumbs in his belt once again.

  “Great job, men. Harold, why don’t you let the others in?”

  As the black man walked to the front door, Grayson looked back at the group huddled in front of him.

  “Any questions?”

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  Morning arrives at a different pace in the mountains as the sun slowly rises in the sky. Slowly, the light crawls down from the tops of the mountains to the west, as the sun’s rays find more and more of the valley floor. Fog tries to maintain its position, finding shadows to hide in, but eventually the light slowly exposes it, pulling the blanket back as the sun’s rays find the ground. The cold air lingers in hidden pockets, where it can catch the unsuspecting off guard, sending a chill down his or her spine, bringing forth involuntary shivers, but slowly, inevitably, it grudgingly gives way, admitting defeat, vowing to return to fight again.

  With the house still dark, Daniel decided to get up, hoping to get at least a couple of hours of work done before the increasing light got everyone else out of bed. He’d already been awake for over thirty minutes, mentally going through his immediate and near term objectives.

  Simply put, there was a lot of work to do if he wanted to properly fortify their security, and he’d been spending the majority of his days working with the family as he trained them on the use of the hand guns and rifles. Because of his concerns over the noise the guns would make, any ‘live fire’ was conducted on the far side of the mountain, requiring an eight mile round trip hike that took up nearly half of the available daylight.