Surviving Rage | Book 2

by Arellano, J. D.

  The President brought her hand up. “No need to apologize for the language, Colonel. It is bullshit.” Looking over at Andrew, Lisa, and Jonathan, she asked, “Doctors, your thoughts?”

  Andrew Chang waited, assuming Jonathan would respond. When he didn’t, Andrew looked in his direction only to find the man looking back at him expectantly.

  Jonathan nodded at him. “Doctor Chang?”

  Andrew hesitated briefly, then turned to the President. “Madam President, I’m only going to make a suggestion about the first part. The second part is not in my area of expertise, nor do I want to know what either of you mean by ‘not letting him get away with it.’” He paused momentarily before continuing. “For the girl, I recommend we send Doctor, I mean, Colonel Reed here to the San Francisco Protective Zone. Once the girl’s been delivered, or rescued, or whatever, Jonathan will take several vials of her blood and store them in multiple pressurized containers for safe transport. Two will be brought by Doctor Reed back to our lab here. Two will need to be delivered to the CDC - we’ll need someone else to handle that part, Doctor Reed, I mean Colonel, no, in this case, he’s Doctor Reed, will be needed here.”

  Seeing the President’s imminent question, he quickly added, “Not to worry, our intention is to bring the girl here as well, but in the unlikely event of something going wrong, we’ll have blood to study and use for development of a vaccine in multiple locations. The cases we’ll be using for transport are not only pressurized and temperature controlled, they’re also impact resistant.”

  President Martinez considered his words for a few moments, then nodded. “Sounds good. I’m glad you’ve already got that part figured out, Doctor.”

  Andrew shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, Madam President.”

  “No doubt.” Moving her gaze to Jonathan, she asked, “Colonel, are you okay with that plan?”

  Jonathan nodded. “It’s what I signed up for, Madam President.”

  “Good,” she replied, nodding.

  “Just one thing, Madam President,” he added.

  “What’s that?”

  “Steight goes with me.”

  Surprised, she recoiled slightly. “State? What’s that?”

  Jonathan smiled. “Steight’s my dog. She’ll be an asset on the ground when we get there. As you know, animals can smell the infected at great distances, so she’ll help keep a lookout.”

  The President shrugged. “Sure, makes sense. I don’t have a problem with it, do you, Colonel?”

  Williamson shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”

  “And the part about not letting this jerkoff get away with holding the United States of America hostage?”

  The officer smiled. “I’ll take care of that part, Madam President.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Palo Alto, California

  It wasn’t that Robert “Dirty” Sanchez didn’t respect The Scorpion. If he was being honest with himself, the woman scared the shit out of him.

  Nor was it that he didn’t like and support her being in charge. Unlike Leon, the woman had a vision for the future, one that emphasized control over what they had and a focus on maintaining it, both by feeding and caring for the people, and by protecting them. While some of the citizens who lived within The Scorpion’s territory, which stretched from Alamitos to the south all the way up to Redwood City in the north, were unhappy with how they were treated, none could say they weren’t protected and fed.

  It wasn’t even that he didn’t understand or agree with the reason she’d put the quarantine rules in place that she had. The virus was deadly, and worse than that, it turned people into monsters, monsters who turned on anyone and everyone, regardless of any relationship or knowledge they had of the people around them.

  It’s just that the woman in front of him was so damned hot.

  With long, flowing naturally blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a figure that wouldn’t quit, she looked like something out of a magazine. (In truth, she was a cheerleader for the Golden State Warriors, a job that helped pay the bills while she attended Stanford.)

  Though she looked at him through eyes filled with contempt, he wasn’t worried. After the right amount of ‘convincing,’ she’d answered his questions, confirming that she hadn’t been bitten or scratched by any of the infected.

  With only Nacho at his side, no one would know if he snuck her back to his room inside the large high rise he and many of the others resided within.

  ‘You shouldn’t Robert,’ he thought, looking at the woman as she stood there, stripped down to her pink jog bra and tight gray shorts, ‘but Jesus Christ, she’s hot,’ he finished, before admitting, ‘and there ain’t no way you’ll be allowed to keep her if the others see her.’

  He was low, very low on the totem pole, and rarely got much choice in anything. He typically had very little say so in any decision made around or involving him, no matter how trivial. Instead, it was the others calling him “Dirty Sanchez”, a nickname he hated, while choosing the things they wanted, sometime leaving him only with the things they cared little about, sometimes leaving him with nothing.

  It was bullshit. He worked hard, carrying out The Scorpion’s orders as he and Nacho patrolled the Northeast Sector of their territory, ferreting out people who hid from them, confiscating their supplies, and marching them back to the holding facility, where they were turned over to the group of men and women who oversaw the quarantine and, if the prisoners made it three days without showing signs of being infected, their work assignments.

  The best looking women were kept by the men there, assigned to ‘cleaning duties’ in their quarters. Some of the men had as many as four women assigned to them, women whose sole duty was to ensure the men never went a day without satisfaction.

  The likelihood that this gorgeous woman, one who was hands down better looking than 99% of the other women captured, would be passed on to him was effectively zero.

  ‘Less than zero,’ he finished in his mind.

  Looking at the blonde woman with her tear-streaked face, his mind was made up.

  “You’re staying with me,” he told her, smiling.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  California Central Coast

  ‘Weird how I’ve missed this,’ Sarah Ferguson thought as she slid the steering wheel to the right, deftly avoiding a large orange drum that had been knocked into the middle of the road after being struck by an Amazon Prime delivery van, which rested half-on, half-off a three-foot high concrete wall that had been put in place to protect the Caltrans workers while they worked on expanding this section of the 101.

  Turning the wheel back to the left, she guided the Hybrid Toyota Highlander back towards the center of the road as her eyes continued to move, watching for potential danger as she guided their vehicle north.

  Finding the Hybrid SUV had been part luck, part opportunity. With their planned stop in San Luis Obispo, the large Toyota dealership there had rows and rows of vehicles. After the attack near Pismo Beach, Serrano had been unyielding in his decision to have all of them ride together. Finding a SUV big enough for six adults and two young children was easy. Finding one that was a Hybrid vehicle to boot was lucky indeed.

  The vehicle hummed quietly as she drove at a faster speed than what they’d used on the previous days, requiring her full concentration as she tightly gripped the wheel. The feeling of driving again, combined with the feeling of being secure in the company of a Navy SEAL and two Marines, allowed her to relax a bit as she drove, enjoying the simple mechanics of driving the SUV.

  Across from her, Jennifer sat in the passenger seat, alternating between checking the map and helping her keep an eye out for trouble. She’d been exceedingly quiet since Damien’s death, keeping mostly to herself without being overtly closed towards Sarah when approached for conversation.

  Sensing Sarah’s brief gaze, Jennifer looked up and gave a slight smile before returning her attention to the road ahead.

  At the back of the SUV,
Richard sat with Olivia and Jason, telling them stories of his time in the service and of random experiences he’d had while traveling. The man was a bottomless well of stories and an expert storyteller. The children listened attentively, asking questions occasionally as they visualized the things he described.

  In the row of seats directly behind her, Serrano was cleaning his weapon for the umpteenth time, taking it apart, wiping it down, applying a thin sheen of oil to the parts, and then reassembling the gun in a practiced, memorized manner.

  Next to him, Aaron was whispering to Phillip, his tone pleading in nature. From the few words Sarah was able to pick up, it was about Jennifer.

  Glancing over at Jennifer, she saw a look of irritation on the young woman’s face.

  Turning in her seat, the young woman glared at her brother.

  “Hey,” she said, keeping her voice low to avoid distracting the children from Richard’s stories, “I can decide for myself who I want to be with.”

  “I know, but - ” Phillip began.

  “But nothing. I’m a grown woman, and I can figure things out for myself.”

  “I’m just trying to protect you,” he explained, clearly caught off guard by her outburst.

  “You wanna protect me? Protect me from things out there.” She pointed outside of the SUV. “Aaron’s your friend, isn’t he?”

  “Uh, yeah…”

  “Exactly, and from everything I’ve heard you say about him, he’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Alright, then, back off.”

  “I - ”

  “Back. Off.”

  “Fine,” Phillip replied, looking past Aaron and out the window, refusing to make eye contact.

  Turning her attention to Aaron, Jennifer’s tone softened some, but not completely. Her voice remained firm as she spoke. “Aaron, I think you’re a nice guy, okay?”

  Aaron nodded, keeping his face impassive. “Okay.”

  “For now, let’s just be...cool, alright?” Her voice softened even more as she explained. “I’m not trying to rush into anything, especially not when we’re still trying to figure out how to survive.”

  “I understand, and it’s fine,” Aaron said, smiling at the young woman.

  “Thanks,” she replied, smiling. Her eyes met Aaron’s and held them for several long seconds before she turned away.

  Sarah stole another glance at the woman. The smile remained on her face as she looked down at the map.

  Looking back to see how Chili had reacted to the exchange, Sarah found him focused on his weapon, still cleaning it in the meticulous manner he showed each time.

  Sensing her looking at him, he glanced at her and gave a sly smile before returning his attention to the gun.

  By mid-afternoon, Sarah had been relieved of driving duties by Aaron, who had eagerly volunteered to take over under the assumption that Jennifer would still be sitting up front, only to have Phillip slide into the seat, sending Jennifer to the back, where she checked on her grandfather and helped Sarah take care of the little ones.

  Serrano snoozed quietly, leaning his head against the window as he rested with his hands lightly clasped in his lap. Somehow, the man seemed to be capable of falling asleep within minutes, regardless of the setting.

  Realizing rest was probably a good idea, Sarah pulled Olivia into her arms and mimicked Serrano’s position, leaning her head against the window. Immediately feeling discomfort from the hard surface’s unyielding nature, she grabbed her jacket, folded it up, and pressed it against the window before placing her head against it.

  Olivia played along for a bit, resting her body against Sarah’s hip and her head against Sarah’s side, but soon after she grew bored with the plan and extracted herself from Sarah’s embrace, moving away from her so that she could play with her brother. Fortunately, they kept their noise level minimal, though Sarah suspected the reason for their consideration was more directed towards Serrano than her. The children (and most of the adults, if she was being completely honest) regarded the man like a superhero.

  After seeing him in action, she didn’t blame them.

  Slumped there with her head against her jacket, she allowed her body to drift with the movement of the SUV as Aaron maneuvered them around obstacles in the road. Listening to the sound of the road and the wind through the open windows, she waited for sleep to come.

  Eventually, she drifted off.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Central California

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Soft and wavering, the voice came from the small girl in the backseat.

  “Don’t care.” Reilley replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “Hold it,” he added. The last thing he wanted was the smell of urine inside the confines of the car.

  The girl persisted, her voice rising as she pleaded. “Please. I can’t hold it.”

  Looking down at the gas gauge, he did a quick calculation in his head before growling, “We’re stopping in about forty-five minutes. You can wait.”

  Though the Prius got great gas mileage, nearly fifty miles to the gallon, his efforts to reach San Francisco as quickly as possible resulted in him spending little time at the lower speeds that allowed the car to be exclusively powered by the battery, especially after the numerous detours he’d had to make.

  The torrential rain that had come from nowhere during the late night-early morning hours had left the ground wet, and he’d spent over an hour working to free the car after nearly getting stuck in the mud during one of his attempts to simply drive the little car off the freeway and around one of the groupings of wrecked vehicles that blocked the way ahead. When he’d finally freed the car, he’d decided to play it safe and backtrack when faced with blockades.

  But all the backtracking slowed his progress, and in an attempt to make up lost time, he’d increased his speed, which required the car’s gas engine to expend more energy, burning fuel it normally wouldn’t.

  By his estimates, he’d be able to travel about a hundred miles before being too low on fuel to risk going further, which would put him just outside San Jose - exactly where he didn’t want to stop to refuel.

  Once he got close to San Francisco, he’d want time to scope out the area chosen for the exchange of the girl to ensure he’d have - and know - an escape route should the authorities try to trap him. With this in mind, he’d made it a requirement that the car have at least three-quarters of a tank when he got to San Jose.

  Which meant it’d be about forty-five minutes before he’d stop to gas up.

  The girl persisted. “Please, sir…”

  He heard a loud, gurgling sound come from the backseat, presumably from her stomach.

  “Don’t you fuckin’ shit back there!” He yelled, glaring at the girl through the rearview mirror.

  “I have to go….”

  Reilley slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch! Goddamitt!”

  In the distance ahead, he saw a small gas station off the freeway on the right side of the road.

  ‘At least I can fill up the gas tank while we’re stopped,’ he thought, before raising his voice to yell at the girl. “Fine! I’m pulling over. You’d better get all of it out, ‘cause I’m not stopping again!”

  The girl said nothing in response. Instead, she continued to sniffle as she cried.

  “Shut up!” he yelled.

  As he approached the offramp, his eyes took in the area. There were a handful of buildings close to the gas station: a hotel, a McDonald’s, and a diner. Each was dark, as were the cars parked in front of them. At the gas station, a single vehicle stood near the pumps closest to the doors: a large black Chevy Suburban SUV with a broken rear window and its driver door hanging open.

  Pulling off the freeway onto the freeway ramp, he kept a watchful eye on the front to the gas station. He saw no signs of movement near the pumps, the front of the store, or inside the connected convenience store.

  He stopped
halfway along the exit’s length, about a hundred and fifty yards from where the abandoned Suburban sat, and watched the SUV and the front of the gas station. The wind blew a random brown paper bag across the paved area underneath the shade, but otherwise there was no movement.

  Serving as a reminder to the urgency of the situation, Isabella’s stomach gurgled again.

  A putrid smell filled the inside of the car.

  “Sorry…”

  “What the fuck? Dammit, hold it in! We’re stopping here.”

  Pressing down on the control for the windows, Reilley lowered all four, allowing fresh air into the car. He shook his head, muttering incoherently as he pressed down on the gas, moving the car forward. At the end of the exit ramp, he drove through the stop sign without slowing, his eyes locked on the front of the gas station as he guided the car towards it.

  Stopping at the island of gas pumps across from the one the Suburban sat at, Reilley growled at the girl.

  “Stay here.”

  With the girl’s legs and wrists tied, he wasn’t actually worried about her getting away, but it still felt like the right thing to say.

  Stepping out of the little car, he held the AR-15 he’d stolen from Daniel in front of him as he looked around cautiously. Still seeing no movement, he cautiously approached the SUV. From where he was, he could see the front seats were empty, but he couldn’t see into the back of the vehicle. Moving closer, he sidestepped as he crossed to the front of the SUV, looking through the windshield into the interior. Seeing nothing inside, he sidestepped back towards the driver’s door, then towards the back of the vehicle, all the while keeping the gun pointing towards it. Reaching the back of the Suburban, he peered through the broken rear window.