Surviving Rage | Book 1

by Arellano, J. D.

  “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  “Daniel!”

  He rushed away, heading towards the shed. Truthfully, her idea was a good one, and it would be effective in providing one more level of deterrence, and possibly help them in their efforts to eliminate at least some of the threats.

  Every bit would help.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

  Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Virginia

  Jonathan stood there, looking at Lisa and Andrew. He blinked a few times, still trying to wake up. “Did you drug me?”

  Andrew shrugged and looked away. “You needed sleep.” He offered.

  Jonathan stared at the man, irritated at the thought of having been given a sleeping pill without his consent, but as he stood there, he realized how much better he felt. The sleep had done wonders for him. His mind felt clear, his muscles refreshed, his spirit lifted.

  Lisa watched him ready to intervene should his temper get the best of him. She hoped he saw the logic in the decision. He had needed sleep more than anyone she’d ever known, because no one she’d known had ever fought so hard against sleeping.

  After a minute, Jonathan nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Thanks. You’re right. I did.” He turned and headed for the corner of the room, where his coffee cup sat next to the coffee maker. He filled his cup with coffee, then set it aside and grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby fridge. When the first sip of water hit his tongue, he realized how thirsty he was and downed the rest in one long drink. “Damn. I was thirsty.” Turning to look back at the others, he asked, “How long was I asleep?”

  Lisa looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight a.m. “Almost eight hours.”

  Reaching for his coffee cup, he stopped suddenly. “Holy crap. Really? What about you guys?”

  Doctor Chang smiled. “We both just got back in here about an hour ago. Corporal Johnson spent the night here with you, just in case you woke up.”

  “Alright, that’s fine.” Walking over to the dry erase board, he sipped his coffee as he looked at the results of the analysis they’d finished the night before after he’d crashed. It didn’t tell them anything, but that was fine. He wasn’t surprised. They were looking in the wrong direction. Turning back to the two of them, he asked, “Have either of you eaten yet? I’m starved.”

  Lisa and Andrew said they hadn’t, having correctly guessed that he’d be hungry when he awoke.

  “Alright, then, let’s get something to eat. I’ll explain my idea while we eat.”

  Lisa smiled at him, her eyes shining with happiness. “Sounds good, but first- ” She pointed towards the sink, where a pair of items sat on the counter nearby.

  Confused, Jonathan looked closer. “Ah… My toothbrush and toothpaste. Okay, I get it.”

  Sliding into the booth where the others sat, Jonathan spread out his multiple plates of food in front of him. His appetite was back in a big way, and it showed. His meal consisted of whole grain pancakes with syrup on the side, three scrambled egg whites, nonfat Greek yogurt, assorted fruits (which were hard to come by at this point, and two glasses of orange juice (from concentrate, but better than nothing, he thought).

  He took two big bites of the pancakes, chewing and swallowing them before he spoke to the two other doctors. “Alright, here it is: you know how we’ve been looking for what could be in the blood streams of the originally infected people? The patient zeros?”

  Andrew nodded, taking a bite of his ham and cheese omelette. “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s just it. It’s not what’s in their bloodstreams. It’s what isn’t. ”

  Lisa cocked her head, considering what he said. “But if it isn’t there, how would we know?”

  “We compare it to that of others who have been vaccinated in the past.”

  “Did you get the files of Roberts's patients who participated in the trial but didn’t get infected? I thought you only got those of the ones who were infected, the unvaccinated.”

  “J.J. did manage to copy a few, but even so, it might be quite simple.”

  Chang’s fork slowed in midair on its way to his mouth. “How so?”

  “We analyze our blood.”

  “But don’t we want to know the impact Doctor Roberts's drug had on the patients who had been vaccinated in the past?”

  “Look, we’ve already synthesized Roberts's drug using the notes I brought back with me. We take some of our blood and add the drug to it, then see the response.”

  Lisa nodded, liking the plan. “I’ve been vaccinated.”

  Andrew covered his mouth with his napkin as he chewed and spoke. “Me, too.”

  Jonathan smiled. “Of course I am, too. You’d have to be an idiot not to be. We’ve also got Mason, Richards, and Johnson. The military require vaccinations, so they’re available as well.”

  Lisa looked over at Andrew expectantly. “Thoughts?”

  Andrew nodded, still busy shoveling food into his mouth. “Sounds promising. Here’s what I want to do: see if we can identify the difference between our blood and that of the infected. If we can identify the difference, then we’ll need to test every single person on this base.

  “If any of them show similarities in their blood to that of the patient zeros, that would indicate that they’re highly susceptible to infection and would therefore need to be quarantined until either they can be fully vaccinated, or until we develop a cure.”

  Lisa chimed in, “The other thing we’ll need to do is to draw blood from them and analyze the impact of Roberts's drug on it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Reed sipped his coffee, then picked up his fork, returning his focus to his plate. “Sounds good.”

  Andrew looked down at his plate as well. “That’s why I’m trying to finish in a hurry.” Bringing his fork to his mouth again, he scoffed slightly. “Of course, even after I’m done, we’ll still have to wait for- ” He looked at Jonathan in amazement.

  The man’s plates, bowls, and glasses were empty.

  “Waiting on you.”

  Over the next three hours, the team took blood samples from each other and from Mason, Richards, and Johnson. The blood samples were submitted to a series of tests known as a Comprehensive Metabolic Panel, 14 tests designed to provide a rough gauge of kidney function, liver function, diabetic and parathyroid status, and electrolyte and fluid balance. Though glucose levels were unable to be properly measured, due to the fact that none of them had properly fasted for the requisite amount of time, Reed wasn’t concerned. He was confident they’d find what they were looking for not during the CMP, but instead during the Immunoglobulin test.

  He was right.

  Using one of the two 60-inch LCD screens mounted on the wall, he displayed all six of their Immunoglobulin test results, with the same entry highlighted. On the other screen, he displayed the blood test results for six of the original sixteen infected people. Leaning back in his chair, he asked, “Do you see it?”

  Lisa put her hand over her mouth as she said, “Holy shit.”

  Andrew nodded. “And the other ten?”

  “Same thing.” Jonathan replied feeling for once like they’d actually accomplished something. Something that made the trip to L.A. and the death of those good men not in vain.

  Doctor Chang reached for his phone.

  “Time to update the President.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO

  Tying his boots, Sheriff Grayson Halwell had a grin on his face that wouldn’t go away, and it wasn’t because of the things he’d forced the woman in his bed to do the night before. Truthfully, he was getting bored of the leggy brunette woman, and he’d likely pass her on to one of the other men in the next few days. Her use to him had run out once her spirit broke, so it was time for someone else to satisfy his urges, including the admittedly sadistic ones.

  No, it wasn’t the woman that made him smile this particular morning. It was the prospect of the day’s hunt. The hunt during which he and his team would have tremendou
s success, both in finding the person or persons who hurt Kyle, and in finding the girl who was immune. As much as he wanted the first so that he could get payback, he now realized the second provided an incredibly valuable opportunity for him.

  With people dying by the thousands, correction: hundreds of thousands, how much would the government be willing to pay for the girl?

  Even as he said it, he realized he was wrong. He didn’t want money.

  He wanted legitimacy.

  He wanted the opportunity to keep this place as his own, with the government’s acceptance and acknowledgement. Heck, if those damn Indians could have reservations, and do whatever the hell they wanted on them, why couldn’t he negotiate his way into keeping this city and surrounding land? He would be able to offer something of high value, something nearly priceless.

  Nearly.

  He’d give them a price, alright. And if they didn’t meet it, he’d kill the girl before he’d let them take his town. If they were going to come in and take away everything he’d worked so hard for, what did he have to lose?

  Certainly not as much as they did.

  ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself, Gray,’ he thought as he stood up from the bed and picked up his gun. He slid it into its holster, pleased with how the weight felt at his hip. Reaching for his hat, he looked over at the woman on the bed. She was sitting with her back against the headboard, her knees drawn up against her chest. She hugged her legs, hunched over as she watched him cautiously. Seeing the bruises on her arms and legs, along with the swelling around her right eye, he realized he might have been too rough with her the night before. ‘Probably time to move on and get yourself a different one, Gray.’ Looking at the mirror he placed the hat on his head, pulling it down so that its brim was just above his eyebrows.

  “Get the fuck out.” He barked.

  The woman rolled out of bed, grabbing her underwear, bra, and floral sundress off of the floor. Quickly pulling on her panties, she slipped her arms into the straps of her bra, rushing to put it on.

  Staring at her reflection through the mirror, he sneered. “Did I say get dressed?”

  Eyes widening, the woman rushed out of the room, one hand holding the material of the bra against her chest, the other clutching her dress.

  Watching her ass shift as she half-walked, half-ran, he admired it, knowing he’d miss it some.

  Who would be next? He sure as hell wasn’t going to be alone. The boss didn’t have to be alone, did he? Smiling, he thought about Heather, the young girl that worked in the lodge before they’d arrived. She was only seventeen, so technically anything sexual between them was illegal - IF the same laws still applied.

  In his town, he made the rules.

  Nodding to himself, grinning widely, he left the room, heading for the lobby, where the others were waiting.

  By ten a.m., he and his men had been through two of the four properties within the city limits. Along the way, they’d killed nearly a dozen more infected people, leaving their bodies to rot in the streets where they’d fallen. They’d also found five more workers, three men and two women, neither of them attractive enough to distract Halwell from the hunger he felt when he thought of young Heather.

  After dispatching two of the men to take the new workers back to the lodge, Halwell gathered the others at the base of the hill near below where the next house was.

  “My gut tells me this one is it, fellas.”

  “Why do you say that, boss?” Clive asked, cradling his AR-15 like a baby.

  Halwell looked at him, jaw clenching as he struggled to keep his irritation in check. “Because I feel it in my gut, idiot. I just fucking said that.”

  Clive looked at his feet, shuffling them slightly as he avoided eye contact. “Sorry…”

  “Don’t be fucking sorry. Be smarter.”

  Clive stared at the ground. He didn’t bother responding.

  Looking away from the fat man, Halwell looked at his group. With Kyle still recovering at the lodge, two men busy taking the workers back, four men keeping perimeter watch at the lodge, and four men supervising the workers, he had six men with him: Diesel (who was so huge he almost counted as two), Luke, Ricky, Harold, Jerry, and Clive’s fat ass. It was entirely likely that it would be more than enough, but he’d still play it cautious and not go rushing headlong towards what could be a well prepared group of people.

  Crossing his arms, he looked at the men. “Ricky, Harold, head up the hill and try to stay out of sight. When you get to the top, the house should be on the upper side of the road, to the left about one hundred feet. If it’s obvious that there are people there, come right back and let me know. If not, hang out and observe for a while and see if there’s anyone there, then come back and report. Got it?”

  Ricky nodded. “Got it, boss.” Turning to Harold, he said, “Let’s go,” then started walking up the hill at a fast pace.

  Watching the two men walk away, Halwell wondered if they’d truly buried the hatchet after their fight in the parking lot. He’d been forcing them to work together over and over, intentionally requiring them to cooperate with one another. Even if they didn’t let bygones be bygones, they needed to understand that the mission, his mission, came first before any personal issues.

  Out of habit, he checked his gun again, making sure it was loaded with a round in the chamber. This felt like it was the place they’d be hiding. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Putting his gun back in his holster, he walked over to Diesel, who was sitting on his Harley, puffing on the cigar that hung from his mouth.

  “Listen, if that’s the place, I hope you don’t mind holding back. We don’t want your motorcycle engines alerting them to our presence.” The big man looked over at Luke, then back at Halwell. “No problem.” He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and admired it. “I’ll just enjoy this nice cigar.”

  Halwell nodded. “Once we get this taken care of, we’ll enjoy a few together, and chase it down with some of the twenty year scotch I’ve got.”

  Diesel nodded, grinning as he tipped the cigar towards the Sheriff. “Sounds good.”

  “When we’re up there, if you hear me start using the bullhorn, come on up. By that time, we’re not worried about having the element of surprise anymore.”

  “Got it.”

  Turning away, Halwell looked at his watch. It was ten thirty. That left plenty of time to deal with the group, assuming they were there. If they were, they’d either give up the Asian woman, whoever hit Kyle, AND the little wetback girl, or they would die.

  It was really that simple.

  Looking up the hill, he saw Ricky and Harold walking down the road towards them at a quick pace. When Ricky realized he was watching, he nodded, giving a thumbs up.

  ‘I fucking knew it!’ He thought triumphantly. Externally, he showed no emotion, instead choosing to reach up and stroke his week-old beard. It wasn’t much, but it was getting there.

  The two men stopped in front of them, panting slightly in the thin mountain air. Nodding, Ricky said, “There’s people there. They got barbed wire ‘round the property. Definitely looks new.”

  “Anything else?” Halwell asked, squinting as he stared at the man.

  “Looks like there’s tire tracks going up ‘round the house.”

  “That’s it?”

  Ricky shook his head, exasperated. “I’m telling you, boss, that fencing can’t be more than a few days old. Metal still looks shiny, concrete looks new. I’d bet good money there’s people there.”

  “Did you see inside the place?”

  Ricky shook his head. “Nah, blinds ‘er drawn.”

  Harold’s eyes got wide as he remembered something. “Oh, the wood around the windows didn’t look natural.”

  Cocking his head, Halwell asked, “How do you mean?”

  “I mean - ”

  Ricky cut him off. “It looks like someone added more wood around the windows, covering most of them so that there’s only small openings to look out,” he fini
shed, ignoring the glaring look Harold shot his way. “I was ‘bout to tell you ‘bout that.”

  Halwell saw the look Harold was giving the man, but didn’t have time to moderate every little issue between them. Besides, it was ‘go’ time. Grinning, he looked around at the group.

  “Well, then, what do you say we go pay them a little visit?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

  By five a.m., Daniel couldn’t sit still anymore. He’d been on watch, looking out the window as the darkness of the night slowly gave way to the grayness that preceded the dawn. Cole had slept nearby him, close enough to be petted once in a while, purring softly as his fur was stroked by a distracted owner.

  Daniel had nearly leapt from his chair when he’d seen movement in the yard at just after 3 a.m., but before he’d sounded an alarm, he’d realized the culprit was simply a squirrel. The furry creature scurried about the yard, somehow deftly avoiding the traps they’d laid. After several minutes of looking for things to eat, the squirrel bounded across the yard, then swiftly jumped through the gap in the wired fence.

  Looking over at Cole, he was slightly disappointed to see the cat still asleep. ‘Really?’ He thought, shaking his head. Then again, why should the cat be awake at that god awful hour? He wondered if and when they’d be able to go to sleep, feeling the safety and security they’d enjoye d before the outbreak. Would it be months? Years?

  Two hours later, he rose from his chair and headed towards the kitchen, he was silently wishing he could begin putting the reinforcements around the windows. His plan was a good one, and he knew it. The layer of mud between the wall of the cabin and the half-inch thick plywood he had would help create a fairly solid - though not fully bulletproof - protective barrier.

  With the family still sleeping restfully, he resigned himself to making a pot of coffee and contemplating what else they could do to prepare for the future assault he was certain would come. They’d done a ton of great work in and around the yard, creating multiple traps and barriers to hurt and/or demoralize those who tried to invade their space, but the worry he felt in the pit of his stomach refused to let him feel satisfied.