Sneering in disgust, he turned away from the car with its deceased occupants.
“Alright. Let’s get going.”
Their destination was a mere five miles away; a five story medical building that offered unobstructed views of the 101 and an elevated point of attack.
One of the things that had made the Rage Virus so difficult to deal with was the rate and randomness of infection. Those who were infected first had an incubation period of 7-8 days, followed by a short time during which the infected felt better, even stronger, than they had before getting sick, before the virus changed them, turning them into the insatiable, anger-filled monsters that killed anything and everything that got in their way, while being oblivious to pain.
The first mutation resulted in near-instantaneous changes in people, wherein they fell victim to an attack from one of the infected, and, if the injuries weren’t life-ending, they rebounded as one of the infected themselves.
A second mutation was one that allowed the virus to come slowly, allowing those infected to believe that perhaps it was something else. Perhaps they didn’t have the Rage Virus at all.
Perhaps they could defeat whatever bug they’d caught.
Such was the case with Caroline Ratcherford, the woman who’d been forced to spend the last 24 hours was Robert “Dirty” Sanchez.
But when she turned, it was bloody.
And very, very violent.
The vast majority of those she infected through her savagery fell under the first mutation, changing almost instantly into killing machines out for blood. Soon, the Palo Alto Luxury Tower, an ultra-modern high-rise apartment building Sanchez had been in charge of overseeing, was bursting at the seams with the infected.
The glass doors at the main entrance to the high-end luxury apartment building were both impressive and aesthetically pleasing, but they would end up being no match for the dozens and dozens of newly infected.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
Fremont, California
As he reached the crest of a small hill, Reilley stopped short, taking his foot off the gas pedal and jamming it down on the brake.
‘This is not good,’ he thought to himself, looking at the cluster of cars in the middle of the street. The cars stretched from one side of the street to the other, leaving no room to pass. Behind the cars, men walked back and forth rifles held loosely in their relaxed grips.
Not good at all.
Turning the wheel, he was in the process of making a u-turn when he heard shouting coming from the direction of the road block. Seconds later, bullets pelted the side of the Prius.
“Shit!” Stomping down on the accelerator, he swung the car through the rest of the turn and accelerated away, heading back in the direction he’d come from. Knowing he still needed to go north (aside from the need to stay away from the gang-controlled San Jose area, his plan revolved around him escaping across the San Mateo-Hayward bridge) he took the first right, heading in the general direction of the bay. If his assumptions were correct, he’d be able to travel at least a couple of blocks before turning right again, heading north once more.
The Prius’s engine whined as he accelerated through the streets, passing stalled cars and trucks every few seconds. Fortunately, there was more than enough space to maneuver, allowing him to keep his speed up as he drove.
Glancing in the mirror, he felt instant dread in the pit of his stomach.
A large black Hummer was pursuing him.
Not the smaller, commercial version GM had made to satisfy the wannabes who couldn’t afford the original.
The real deal.
The over seven-foot wide, 8,000 pound behemoth that seemed capable of nearly anything other than quick acceleration.
Riding on big tires, the Hummer was closing fast, its massive black brush guard growing bigger in his mirror with each passing second.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he yelled aloud inside the car, his eyes searching the road ahead for a way to evade the SUV.
He saw an intersection up ahead.
‘Too much time,’ he said to himself.
Continuing on, he pressed down harder on the gas, increasing his speed. Shops flew past on either side of the car as he headed west, moving down the street as fast as possible, weaving in between cars with ease.
Checking the mirror, he found that he’d increased his distance on the pursuing Hummer, giving him a moment’s reprieve from the intense fear that maintained a death grip on his chest. Exhaling, he pushed on, swinging the wheel back and forth as he worked his way down the street.
Looking behind him once more, his heart sunk in his chest.
Ill-equipped for high speed maneuvers, the Hummer was using its literal strength: powering forward, slamming through the vehicles in its way, its front end protected by the thick steel of the chrome plated brush guard. Cars, trucks, and even vans were thrown aside as the Hummer plowed through them, its driver solely focused on catching Reilley.
Looking ahead, Reilley saw exactly what he needed.
He’d have to time it right.
Easing on the gas pedal ever so slightly so as not to give away his intentions, Reilley continued on, his eyes darting back and forth between his objective and the Hummer in the rearview mirror.
The H1 drew closer, reducing the gap rapidly as its big, 6.6 Liter Turbo DMAX Diesel engine pushed it forward. The grill grew larger and larger in the mirror as Reilley pushed on, desperately trying to stay ahead of the massive SUV.
Reilley felt the Prius lurch as the Hummer’s front grill slammed into his rear bumper.
“Shit!”
Pushing down a bit harder on the gas, he increased the distance between the two vehicles momentarily before pulling his foot off the gas altogether -
- And yanking the wheel to the right, barely missing the front end of a moving truck. The little car’s tires screamed in response as the vehicle threatened to lose control, sliding sideways towards the liquor store that sat on the corner. With the sidewalk approaching fast, the tires finally found purchase on the asphalt, stopping the sideways motion before allowing the engine to propel the car forward.
Though the H1’s wide wheel base made the vehicle inherently stable, the driver of the SUV knew its cornering limitations. Rather than attempt to make an impossible turn, he chose instead to slam on the brakes, leaving a swath of rubber on the road as the heavy vehicle came to a stop. Slamming the gearshift into reverse, he accelerated backwards until he could safely make the turn, guiding the H1 around the edge of the moving truck and onto the street the Prius had turned onto.
The Prius was nowhere in sight.
Accelerating down the hill, Reilley slowed slightly before turning right onto another parallel street. He’d keep doing what he’d been doing, taking a step-like approach to achieving a northerly route, driving north, then west, then north, then west again, over and over, until he could no longer go west.
That point came sooner than expected when he reached Fremont Boulevard, which ran alongside the bay, and later, an ecological preserve called The Baylands. Unable to execute his evasive tactic any longer, he simply pressed down on the gas harder, pushing the car forward. As luck would have it, the northbound side of the street was largely empty.
Apparently most people fleeing had tried to head east. If unable to do so, they made their way south.
In the distance ahead, he saw an intersection with another road. Not knowing what it was, he knew it didn’t matter.
He’d head west, farther away from the danger posed by whoever was trying to control access to Fremont.
Slowing as he approached the intersection, he glanced in the rearview mirror instinctively.
The Hummer was there, at most half a mile away and closing the gap quickly.
“Mother fucker!” He screamed, slamming his hand on the wheel before yanking it to the left, taking the turn at a high rate of speed.
In the backseat, Isabella cried.
“Shut the fuck up!!”
Settling on Boyce Road, he jammed his foot down on the accelerator again, speeding forward. He took the first left, hoping to create more space between them and those who pursued them.
Car dealerships lined either side of the road he traveled down. Looking ahead, he saw a large, open area dominated by an array of greenish colors. To the right of that were large, flat pinkish areas.
The Salt Ponds.
‘Perfect,’ he said to himself, speeding west, directly towards the area.
Checking the mirror, he saw the Hummer turn onto the same road he had.
‘No matter,’ he thought, ‘I’ll lose them in the Pond areas.’
Zipping down Cushing Road, just over a mile behind the Hummer, Logan leaned forward on the moped as he pulled back on the throttle, coaxing more speed out of the engine.
When the Prius turned suddenly, heading west, he knew Reilley was headed towards the Salt Ponds.
‘Not a bad idea,’ he conceded.
When the H1 turned, he continued on.
He’d meet them in the Salt Ponds.
And rescue Isabella.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Loyola, California
“Looks good,” the Scorpion said, nodding appreciatively as she looked up at the pile of vehicles that blocked the 280 Freeway on both the North and Southbound lanes. Cars, pickup trucks, vans, and moving trucks had been used to form a wall, leaving little room for anyone to get by. At best, they could trek off the freeway on foot and climb through the bushes before reentering on the far side of the roadblock. “How’d you get the cars piled up like that?”
“Found out one of our workers knows how to operate a crane,” the man standing next to her replied, smiling.
Stepping back further, she continued nodding, then said, “Well, you know what?” She looked over to Lizette. “I don’t think we need you to blow anything up.”
“Damn,” the Latina replied, shaking her head. She held up a brick-sized object that had multiple wires and a small circuit board on it. “I had just the thing, too.”
“Don’t worry,” the Scorpion said, smiling at the woman, “We still have the Dumbarton Bridge to deal with.”
“True,” Lizette replied.
“And I’ll need you to put some IEDs on the 101 to make sure no one’s going to try to ram through our checkpoints.”
Lizette smiled. “Already done.”
One of the men with them laughed. “Pretty fucking hilarious us Mexicans put up a fucking checkpoint.”
“Hey!” the Scorpion replied, smiling broadly as she pointed at him. “It’s for a good reason.”
The group laughed even more raucously.
When the laughter subsided, the Scorpion looked back at the man she’d put in charge of the roadblocks. “Alright, so what’s next?”
The man’s demeanor changed as he took on a professional role. He’d been put in charge of the effort, and he wasn’t going to let the Scorpion down. More important than the fact that she would put more and more trust in him if he was successful, allowing him to move up in the ranks of her gang, was the fact that failure was not well-received by her. “Well, from here, we’ll work our way over to the Eighty-Two. We’ll block north and southbound lanes there, then work our way back to some of the major roads, like the Foothill Expressway. When that’s done, we’ll check back and see what your next priorities are, like reducing the number of approaches from the West.”
“Good, good,” she replied, nodding her head. She looked at it a moment longer, then turned away. Motioning towards the big white Mercedes G550 SUV they’d arrived in, she said, “Let’s go. We’re supposed to check on the check point Javier and Dirty Sanchez put up.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
North San Jose, California
Serrano held the wheel tight as he rejoined the northbound side of the 101. They’d made better time than expected traveling north on streets that ran parallel to the 101, but at this point, no other route made sense. There were no streets that ran parallel on the north side of the highway, and most of those south of the highway tended to veer further and further away, which would only add time and distance to their planned drop offs at the Dumbarton and San Mateo-Hayward bridges.
So far the morning had gone well, but Richard’s obvious discomfort in the passenger seat was beginning to worry him. Though the man’s movements were small as he tried to find a comfortable position, they were frequent.
‘Must have had some kind of injury when he was younger,’ Chili thought, glancing at the man before returning his focus to the road ahead. He’d already decided he’d cover the San Mateo-Hayward Bridge himself. Aside from the possibility of danger, it would be a long trek, heading out onto the bridge to set up in a spot where he could intercept that ‘Hermes’ asshole. The old man’s back wouldn’t do well on the hike, and Serrano would actually feel better knowing the man was staying behind to watch over the women and children, not that Sarah hadn’t proven to be highly capable of defending herself.
They’d been on the 101 for just under an hour, traveling all of fifteen miles, when Sarah leaned forward and nudged Serrano’s elbow.
“Water?” she asked, smiling as she extended the plastic bottle.
Smiling in return, he took a quick look at the road and was in the process of turning back to grab the bottle from her hand when his mind stopped him. He jerked the wheel to the left, hard, swinging the SUV away from the thing that caught his eye.
He wasn’t sure, but something looked out of place in the road.
Though the vehicle was traveling at a relatively slow rate of speed, the sharpness of the maneuver sent its occupants violently to the left. Olivia screamed in fear as she was flung towards her mother, who managed to grab her at the last second.
The SUV’s right rear tire hit a piece of chrome plated bumper on the road, sending it spinning forward.
It hit the object Serrano had noticed.
Serrano’s split-second reaction likely saved the lives of everyone in the vehicle, moving it just outside the primary blast zone just as the IED detonated.
The road ballooned upward as the object exploded, sending chunks of concrete and bits of rebar into the air. The SUV was rocked sideways and lifted partially off the ground as the blast wave shattered the windows of the Highlander, sending glass into the ceiling of the cabin due to the vehicle’s lean.
When the vehicle came back down on the surface of the highway, it came down with enough force to blow the SUV’s right front tire and its associated suspension, resulting in a bone-jarring impact that radiated up through the vehicle’s frame, through the floor and seat, and into Richard’s back.
Struggling to see through the thick cloud of dust and concrete, Serrano saw a gaping hole in the middle of the highway as bits of concrete began to pelt the top of the vehicle. Large chunks of the road were disappearing as they fell into the hole, widening it rapidly.
Serrano slammed his foot down on the gas, accelerating as he sought to get away from the gaping maw that grew with every passing second. This section of the highway was collapsing, and if they didn’t get away, they’d go down with it, only to be buried in the rubble.
Ears ringing, he leaned forward to put his face closer to the windshield, his eyes searching for a way out of their predicament. After a few precious seconds, he managed to spot a sign for an exit ramp on the side. He kept his foot on the gas as he drove towards it, ignoring the lopsided way the SUV lurched forward, as well as how every bump on the right side jarred the entire vehicle.
The car limped and lurched down the ramp as the highway overpass collapsed behind them, burying the vehicles that had been abandoned beneath it. A massive dust cloud plumed upward and outward, casting the immediate area into a haze.
The SUV made it to the bottom of the ramp and no further before a loud hiss came from under the hood, followed by an eruption of steam. The Toyota Highlander shuddered, shaking its frame and everyone inside the vehicle, before it went still, its useful life over.
> Finally able to exhale, Serrano did so before looking around the inside of the vehicle. Behind him, Sarah held her children close, shielding their heads with her arms. Beyond them, Phillip looked over at Aaron, who held Jennifer in his arms. The young woman’s eyes were closed, the side of her bloody.
“Jenn, wake up,” Aaron pleaded, brushing bits of glass out of her hair as he looked at her.
Realizing what no one else did, Serrano raised his voice before speaking.
“Alright, we’ve got to move!”
Sarah looked up in shock. “What?”
“We’ve got to go.”
The blonde woman shook her head. “No, wait, give us a second, for God’s sake.”
Unbuckling his seat belt, he hopped out and went to the door behind his. Opening it, he said, “No time. Whoever set that trap will have seen the blast. It won’t be long before they’re here.”
Sarah’s eyes widened as realization set in. Immediately, she nodded. “Okay, I understand. Come on, kids, we’ve gotta get out of the car.” She led the kids out onto the street, where she huddled with them while she waited for the others.
Inside the damaged SUV, Aaron and Phillip worked to extract Jennifer’s unconscious form from the vehicle. Serrano reached in and grabbed his MP-4, then his handgun. As he began to draw back, he looked up.
Richard wasn’t moving.
“I can’t feel my legs,” the man said.
Just over seven miles from where they were, the Scorpion looked over at Lizette and smiled.
“Nice job, Baby. We’ll check it out after we see Javier and Dirty.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
Stanford, California
“Hunh,” Daniel said, glancing towards the sign on the left. “I always thought Stanford University was in Palo Alto.”
Surviving Rage | Book 2 Page 56