Rage: A Story of Survival

by Greene, Dane

  We’ll use some modified bikes that Ted said they found. Though I doubt it’s true, I don’t question it. Kent will drive around the back way and bring down one of the buildings nearby with the C4 we packed. The hope is that we take out the generals and use the noise of the collapsing building to draw the leaderless Palemen away. Then the threat to Ted’s group should diminish significantly.

  I run over the plan one last time as I stare down the handlebars of the motorcycle. As I look at the bike, I admire its design. It has several spikes and blades positioned on it and two extra wheels in the back for stability.

  Whoever modified this bike made it to drive through hordes of Palemen. The original windshield has been replaced with thick Plexiglas, and it’s been heavily reinforced along the sides with jagged metal to prevent any Palemen from getting close enough to bite or grab the rider.

  I’m still looking over the bike when I see a flare go up, and I know it must be my signal. I look out of my alley, and sure enough, the street is full of Palemen. My bike kicks to life on the first try, and I shift my engine into the fastest speed I can in the hundred feet of alleyway.

  The impact with the first Paleman shakes through my body, but the bike doesn’t slow. Bodies are shredded, impaled, and sliced to pieces as my bike cuts a path of carnage through the street. As blood rains down on me, time slows. A smile comes to my face, and I feel Chris emerging. One hand revs the engine while the other pulls out a gun and fires wildly into the crowd.

  I can feel the other motorbikes. With each life that’s destroyed, I feel their pain and agony join in me, and my anger grows stronger. I almost lose myself to the feeling until Jason on the battlement starts raining Molotov cocktails into the front line of Palemen.

  Finally, I find myself in the opposite alleyway, and I hear the gunfire start. It’s only seconds before I feel the generals of this group. Time starts to have no meaning, and I feel the life of two of the generals fade. The mental focus of the entire horde of Palemen latches onto the last general, and I feel his mind shatter under the strain. The horde mind focuses on me, and for a second, all of their rage and pain is bombarding me. The thousands of screaming voices is too much, and I fall into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 11: Melany/Kent

  July 25th

  *

  Melany

  *

  As I look through the lens of my camera, I find myself wishing for a cup of coffee. My nose almost picks up the smell as I imagine the last cup I had at the apartments. The coffee grounds used for that cup were a week old, but I didn’t care. Even now, I’d trade almost anything for those same grounds.

  Feeling Dawn tap my shoulder, I leave the view of my lens to look at her.

  “What do we do?” Not knowing what to do, I sigh and look through my camera again. We’re at the top of one of Chicago’s high-rises. Bellow us, a fight is about to break out between the orphans of the city and a Paleman horde that’s larger than anything I’ve ever seen.

  Dawn and I were instructed to come up here and sharp-shoot. I’m not sure how shooting one or two Palemen could be of any help.

  “Dawn, I have no idea. I’m starting to think Aaron might have had us come up here to keep us safe.”

  Dawn looks at me, and I can tell she’s thinking very hard. “No, that can’t be it. Aaron and Brian had a reason for us to be here. Otherwise, they would have had us watch over Evelyn.”

  Dawn’s right. I look back to the crowd of Palemen and watch its movements. As I do, I start to notice patterns. From my height, it’s almost like the Palemen move as a single unit. Suddenly, I have a thought.

  Opening both eyes, I look through the camera lens with one and at the crowd with another so it’s easier to follow the movement of the Palemen. They’re in fact moving together. It’s subtle, but there’s an order to their movements.

  As I converge on the center of the movement, I hear a loud crash behind me. Dawn shouts out in shock, and I’m about to turn around when I hear, “It’s only a few Palemen. I’ll take care of them, and you take care of shooting.”

  Trusting Dawn to protect me, I continue feeling that if I don’t act soon, I’ll miss my opportunity. Putting down my camera, I grab the rifle. My brother taught me how to hold a rifle when the power first went out. This will be the first time I fire one.

  As I look through the scope, I pretend it’s my camera. Following the movement of all the Palemen, I’m led to the center of the group. When I find the center, I see a Paleman and I can tell that he’s my target. My hands shake, and I wish again for a cup of coffee to steady them. Holding my breath, I force my hands to be still.

  “You’re taking a picture,” I whisper as I focus my scope on the creature’s head and pull the trigger. The gun recoils into me, knocking the breath from my chest. I throw the gun aside and pick up my camera.

  My camera lens moves to where I fired, and I can immediately see a difference. The Palemen’s movements went from synchronized to chaotic. Before long, though, the Palemen once again start moving as one. This time, it’s more chaotic, like whatever’s controlling them is having a hard time doing so.

  Following what I learned earlier, I look into the center of the group. First, I spot my next target with my camera, then my rifle. I take my shot. When I look at the scene with my camera, I see that I missed the shot this time. My bullet didn’t kill the general, but I hit him in the arm. It’s bleeding, and I know he’s dying. My camera snaps as I take a few pictures. Then the Paleman looks straight at me and screams. He lifts his one good arm into the air and flips me off.

  My instincts kick in, and I take a picture. Once the camera clicks, I let it fall to my neck and turn around in shock. Dawn looks at me, standing beside the body of a dead Paleman, and asks, “What’s wrong? Did you not hit what you were aiming at?” Dawn comes closer, and I see blood on her hands and clothes. The blood brings a flash of the general to my mind.

  “No, I hit him. He’s probably dead by now. Something strange happened, though. He looked right at me and flipped me off.”

  *

  Kent

  *

  My nerves are buzzing and my hands are shaking because I know what I must do. Everyone’s relying on me, and if I fail, there’s a good chance they’ll die. When I volunteered to take down a building, I didn’t think it through completely. Even if I’m successful at finding an empty building and making it fall, if the others don’t kill the general, my efforts will be pointless.

  As I drive through the city, I see several Palemen. They all walk toward the battle I left. I’ve seen generals before, but I’ve never seen them have such a wide effect—or such tight control.

  The more I learn about this disease, the more disgusted I am and the more fascinating I find it. Such a complex and deadly sickness could only be manmade and amplified by nature.

  Most of the buildings I pass are full of cars. The infection must not have hit the city immediately. There’s no way these cars would have been moved if it did. When I look at the skyline, my gaze falls on a building. Smiling, I know I’ve made my choice.

  The Sears Tower—or Willis Tower, as it was called before the power went out—looms in the skyline in front of me. The idea that I’m about to bring down one of America’s landmarks feels right. America has fallen, so why not make one of its monuments fall as well?

  Feeling like my plan will succeed, the drive is almost relaxing now. When I reach the Sears Tower, I find my way into the underground parking garage. Once I’m there, I start unpacking the C4, blast caps, fuse wire, and the homemade battery to set off the blast caps.

  After everything is unloaded, I walk around the garage and survey the area. I have roughly sixty pounds of C4. With it, I want to bring the building completely down. The only question is how, since I have more than enough explosives to get the job done.

  Never having taken an engineering class, I have to guess which support beams are most important to the structure. In the end, I pick the four corner beams, what seems to b
e the main center beam, and three more random beams from around the parking garage.

  Using my car, I manage to get the C4 planted and all the wire set up to a central point about twenty yards from the exit to the parking garage. When I finish tying all the line together to my final wire, I’m ready to detonate. My plan is to set the explosion off with a gravity-powered timer.

  We practiced this at the base, and I know that I’ll have between thirty seconds and two minutes to escape before the C4 explodes. Setting the trap up, I ready myself to run. My concentration is broken when a sharp pain in my shoulder freezes me.

  I push back, feeling the resistance of a body, and I know it’s a Paleman. The teeth sink father into my shoulder, and I know there will be no way to dislodge them. Instead, I reach down and grab the legs of the Paleman behind me, then jump back with all my strength.

  The maneuver is successful, and for a brief moment, I’m on my back, floating in the air. The impact with the ground smashes the Paleman’s face deeper into my shoulder. Pain surges throughout my body. There’s a loud snap as the Paleman’s jaw is broken. Satisfied, I roll over, my vision blurry, but I see the Paleman on the ground. Without hesitation, I jump on top of him and start slamming his head into the ground. It isn’t until I’m sure the Paleman is dead that I stop.

  Standing up, I look at the wound. There’s no chance I’m not infected—and no chance for amputation. I’m a walking dead man.

  Sighing, I turn around to set the bomb. Might as well finish what I started. As I turn around, I see the worst thing I could: the homemade battery is lying on the ground, broken, with its fluids leaking all over the pavement. It must have broken in the fight.

  The battery breaking pushes me over the edge; I scream profanity and fall to my knees, broken, defeated, and dying.

  *

  Melany

  *

  Sweat drips down my brow, but I force myself to continue running. Dawn is running ahead of me, and her movements make it look like running is effortless for her. She looks calm, but I can tell that she’s on edge. After I took out the second general and told Dawn about what I saw, she said she had to go to Brian. I think I know why she chose him to go to.

  Dawn has been careful so far, but there was one day I saw her coming out of Brian’s tent. It wasn’t hard to put together what was going on. Dawn and I haven’t known each other very long, but I find that I’m happy for them. They are a ray of hope for me. If they can find some normalcy in the midst of everything, there’s no reason the rest of us can’t.

  Their relationship is part of what motivated me to start taking pictures again. Before the power outage, I was well known in my community as an amateur photographer. After the power went out, though, there was no use for my skills. Without digital cameras and photo editing suits, all I had left was talent.

  I picked it back up a few weeks ago when we were stuck in a building in town. I found an old camera and a box of unused film, along with a book on how to develop pictures. Ever since then, I’ve been documenting our journey in hopes that, someday, I’ll be able to make a book from the pictures and memories.

  Being so absorbed in my thoughts, I almost run into Dawn when she comes to a sudden stop. I look around to try and find out why we aren’t running anymore.

  Gazing out onto the battlefield is too much for me. Seeing it from afar on a camera was bearable, but seeing all the gore up close is too much. I gag and throw up onto the street.

  Dawn looks at me. “I’m sorry to say this, Melany, but you need to pull yourself together right now. Brian and Aaron are out there, and they may need our help.”

  Dawn is right. I force myself to stand and look back out onto the battlefield. Bodies lie everywhere, littering the streets. The stench of death and blood is all-consuming.

  “Are you okay?” Dawn asks. As I nod, she continues talking. “Good. Follow me, and make sure to be careful. Not all these bodies are completely dead.” The thought that some of the Palemen and people lying here are still alive haunts me, so I try to focus on Dawn’s back as we walk through the crowd.

  The minutes tick by, and I hear the ricochet of gunfire grow louder. As we enter a narrower street, the bodies become denser, and I’m forced to hold on to Dawn’s shoulder for balance. After several minutes of struggling, we find our way to a clear spot in the road, and Dawn comes to a stop.

  “Brian, oh thank God!” Dawn runs forward, and I let her go. She should have this moment to embrace Brian. Even among all the death, I smile when I see their embrace.

  “Boy, I’m glad you found me. We took out the last general. He was much easier to spot after the first two were shot down. Was that you, by the way?”

  Dawn shakes her head and points to me. “No, I would have to give Melany the credit for that.” Dawn’s words are cut off by a loud explosion that shakes the ground. Everyone falls, including me. Fear fills me until I remember that Kent planned to blow up a building. Sure enough, a dust cloud comes down our street, and I close my eyes and hold my breath while it passes over us. Once the cloud is gone, I open my eyes and look around. Everything’s covered in a layer of dust, but when I see Brian and Dawn, they both have smiles on their faces.

  “He did it,” I say. “He actually managed to pull it off. Without the generals, most of the Palemen are bound to go to the site of the explosion. The battlefield should thin out.” Sure enough, the gunfire that was so frequent a second ago has slowed to an occasional shot. Smiling, I join my friends in a hug. It hits me then: Brian and Aaron were supposed to be riding bikes together.

  “Brian, where’s Aaron?”

  *

  Kent

  *

  The car’s horn is blaring, and I scream alongside it. Dozens of Palemen are inside the parking garage now. The electric lines are hooked into the alternator. All I have to do is turn this key and I’ll see all these bastards die. Tears stream down my face, and when I look in the mirror, I see my eyes have turned red.

  Finally, hands shaking, I turn the key and rev the engine to life. The explosion is instant and all-encompassing. Time slows, and I watch as the Palemen around my car vaporize and my ears rupture. Images flare in my mind. At first, they flash by too fast to comprehend, but then they start to slow down.

  The images are all I see. Even as the fire crawls across my skin and singes my eyes, I still see them. They are memories of my childhood and my friends and family. The memories are bittersweet, and I enjoy watching them. Before long, though, they reach a point I don’t want them to. My memories of after the power went out start playing. No matter how hard I resist, I’m forced to watch them, a victim of my own mind.

  I watch myself sitting on the couch. I know this memory well. It’s haunted me ever since it first happened. There’s a noise in the garage and I follow it.

  My father stands in twilight with a Paleman biting his neck. The Paleman’s eyes are as red now as they were then. Inside of them, I see hatred, fear, and death. I try to say goodbye to my father as he lifts the gun, but he’s in so much pain I don’t think he can even see me.

  Blood spatters the walls in the garage. He missed. My mother screams and runs out to my dad.

  All I could do was stand there, frozen in shock. Watching, I see my mother run to my father. She’s attacked by the same Paleman who attacked him. Half of the creature’s face was torn off by the gun blast that killed my father. That doesn’t stop him from biting a chunk out of my mother’s arm.

  Even now, I’m ashamed of what I did. Tears stream down my face as I run from my mother and go into my room. Locking myself in, I cradle a crossbow I had for decoration and cry.

  Even when I heard my brother’s screams, I did nothing. I just hid and cowered. My own memories disgust me; my weakness and fear are what stopped me from saving my family. These memories are why I worked so hard once I found the military base.

  Only now that I’m dying do I realize I was hiding my grief in my hatred for the Palemen. All along, I was trying to make up for letting m
y family die.

  Realization hits me: I don’t belong in this world. Some insane luck made me survive that first night when the rest of my family died. The fire burning away my body is a blessing.

  Accepting death, I beg that the images of my memories go away, but they won’t. Even when I see memories of me killing Palemen, I feel no joy. Only with the wisdom of death do I understand that they are the true victims. Palemen are diseased, and it’s easy to forget when they’re coming to kill you. Fact is, they’re unable to control themselves. Their sickness forces them to kill those they love and be slaves to the generals who are stronger than them.

  Death must be a gift to them; I can only imagine what being forced to stay inside my mind while my body kills others would be like.

  Even now, I’m growing tired of these memories, tired of living. Emotions leave, and I no longer care if I was a coward or brave. My memories still play, but I’m finally able to close them out and fade into a welcoming blanket of nothingness.

  *

  Melany

  *

  From behind the glass windows of a bank, I see that the battle didn’t reach this far. Brian is in the sick room with Aaron. I haven’t seen my brother yet. After what Jason told me, I’m not sure I want to.

  He said he found Aaron half-conscious atop a mountain of dead Palemen. He was drenched in blood but didn’t have a single scratch on him. There was more, too—I could feel it. Something happened, and Brian couldn’t tell me.

  It’s hard to believe that the brother I grew up with has become someone who could kill Palemen without remorse. After all, he’s never been a violent person; he still isn’t. His ability to kill Palemen helped keep us alive, but I’m still worried about him.

  He tries to hide it, but I’m starting to see the strain of protecting us wear on him. Every fiber of me wishes I could help him, but I know that doing so would go against the person I am.