The Rabid: Rise (16 page)

20

I’m standing at the front of the Humvee. There is a map spread out before me, my handgun rests beside it, suppressor attached, just in case any unwelcome visitors decide to come wandering into the parking garage.

I’m trying to pinpoint exactly where I am
, trying to keep Bethany out of my thoughts. The two are not conducive.

She’s okay. She’ll come back.

I thought of going out to look for her. Then I thought of her coming back and finding me gone. Finding the vehicle empty. So I’m staying put. At least for now.

I
squint at the map. Moving it slightly, turning it left and then right as my eyes scan the page. My hope is that if I can pin point where the apartment complex is located, then I’ll be able to retrace our steps and make sense of where we are now.

I need to find the closest intersection first.

I move my finger down and then left, and then finally happen across a pair of roads that strike a familiar chord.

Park
and Preston.

Park
, that’s the road we’d driven during the raid.

We’d gone West towards the toll road
.

Last night was such a blur. I should have followed along more closely when Bethany was driving.

I think, maybe, we went south...

...I think, but I’m not sure.

I fold the map up inside of my pocket and grab the gun. I’ll head out to the street and try looking for a sign or a landmark.

The parking structure groans
as my footfalls echo against the partially collapsed ceiling. Far to my left a giant slab of cement and rebar sit at a dramatic gradient allowing the sunlight to cut through and explode rich and orange against the cold gray pavement. There aren’t very many cars around. The few that remain have broken windshields and fire damage. Most likely caused by the bombing runs last month. I’m sure that one day the entire thing will come down. I’m hoping that day isn’t today.

The attendant booth is empty. The yellow bars controlling the traffic in and out are twisted up and broken off on either side.

People in a mad panic to get out, no doubt.

I check the booth for anything of value. Candy bar wrappers. Shuffled paperwork. A black telephone swaying back and forth by its power cord, the handset dragging the ground.

Nothing.

I get the pistol ready as I step into the light.

It’s chilly. The road is narrow. The buildings on either side of me hug in tight, creating a hell of a wind tunnel. I hunch my shoulders and turn my head away, unable to bear the onslaught; tears sting my eyes.

I turn,
putting the wind at my back, and start moving down the street. There are large pieces of granite littering the ground, cluttering the sidewalk, shed by the structures towering above me. There are parking meters that have been splintered. Cars that have been pancaked. Bodies that have been buried.

An urban avalanche.

There is a small grunt somewhere up ahead of me. A whimper. But...not human.

I see the hand.
Pale. Clawing at the ground. Fingernails gone. Red bloody scabs in their place.

I aim. Moving closer. Circling wide.

Rabid.

Male or female?
I can’t tell.

It’s trapped beneath a fallen piece of brick wall. The legs and torso are hidden away beneath the
concrete, metal, and glass, no doubt turned to mush and powder. The rest is withered away to sagging flaps of skin and brittle bone. Bloody lesions oozing red and black cover every inch of the arms, neck, face, and back. It looks at me, deep pockets of bloody membrane sitting beneath protruding eyeballs. It opens its mouth, too weak to lunge. It couldn’t bite me if it wanted to. Its gums are void of teeth. Black and bloody pits are all that remain.

I feel something for this creature that I haven’t felt for any of the rest.

Pity.

Hell, maybe it’s empathy.

Trapped beneath something you have no power over. Feeling as if you’re rotting away beneath its might. What you thirst for lying just beyond your reach. No hope for salvation.

Maybe there is more
uniting us than dividing us.

The tips of its bloody fingers
are inches away from my boots.

Another dusty groan escapes from its throat.

“They don’t feel pain,” I whisper to myself.

I point the gun at the top of its head. One bullet. One bullet to end the suffering.

“They don’t feel pain.” I lower the gun. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do it,” a small voice says from behind me.

“Bethany!” I turn. Relief courses through me.

Her hair whips beneath her chin in the torrential breeze. She holds her
katana
limply, letting the tip drag the ground.

“You we
nt back to the Humvee?” I ask, nodding towards the sword.

“Yeah, you had me worried for a second when I couldn’t find you.”

“Just came out here to find a street sign. Was trying to trace a route on the map. Kinda tough when you don’t have any idea where the hell you are to begin with.”

“I know where we’re at,” she says, stepping past me. “Just, let me deal with this first. We can’t leave it like this.”

“Sure you don’t want me to do it?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “no, I can do this.”

“I know you can do it. That’s not the point. You don’t have to prove anything. I’m just saying, you went through something yesterday, killing that guy...”

“Tim, I’ve got it, okay.” She’s quick about it. She swings the sword up and slams the tip down through the top of
its head. There is a tiny crunch. Not much resistance. It twitches a little and goes still. Bethany removes the blade, wipes it on the bottom of her shoe like Katia had taught her, and returns it to its sheath. “That was the right thing to do.”

“I agree.”

We stand there silent for a moment. Dividing the wind. Staring down at the body of the Rabid. Dark blood bubbling up from the small gash in the back of its head. Slow and thick.

The right thing...

“Bethany, listen...”

“Tim, I’m sorry. About all the shit...”

“Nah, it’s...it’s fine. I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t chase you. I, all of this, if I lose you, then what’s the point? All we have is each other, so I’m sorry.”

She turns and wraps
me in a sturdy hug.

“
So, where are we?” I ask, rubbing her back.

“We went
south last night. We’re in Dallas. This is Mockingbird. And that way I saw a sign for highway 75. But guess what else?”

I’m not sure I like the look on her face. “What?”

“I found another checkpoint.”

“Bethany, what were you thinking? You want to get yourself killed?” We’re not hugging anymore. I’m holding her by the elbows like a concerned parent.

“Chill, they didn’t see me. They’re kicked back in lawn chairs. There’s only two of them. We could find out from them where the General is. Where Momma is. We can take them!”

I shake my head. “I’ve only got a handgun. You’ve only got a handgun and that sword. They’ve got rifles, am I right?”

She nods.

“Well, there’s your answer. Fuck t
hat. Which way are they located because we’re headed in a different one?”

“No, listen. I’ve got a plan.”

“A plan? For me and you to take down two soldiers at a military checkpoint?”

She smiles. “It’s a good plan.”

I don’t like this. She has a point though. We have no idea where Momma is. It’s a needle in a giant bombed out haystack. This is our only lead. Two guys. The odds could be a lot worse. Still, they’re trained. They’re armed.

I don’t like it at all.

I sigh. “Let’s hear the plan.”

21

We watch them.

For hours, we sit on the second floor of a mostly intact office complex and watch them.

They don’t move much. They mostly keep their asses planted firmly in their fold out lawn chairs, shooting the shit. Eating and drinking from a foam cooler. There only appears to be two of them.

Bethany was right.

I check the rooftops and windows for snipers.

Empty. Just broken glass and crumpled brick.

These guys are relaxed. They laugh a lot. They slouch down and swing their knees back and forth. They aren’t worried about Rabid. Then again, my worry is beginning to wane as well. The herds seem to have thinned considerably. Whether they’re dying off or moving on is anyone’s guess. Still, the only Rabid I’ve seen today are dead (for good) or dying.

“They seem like nice guys,” Bethany says, lying on her stomach against the shag carpet, her chin cradled on her knuckles.

I hold the bino
culars sideways against one eye, my pistol lying on the desk beside me. “Until they’re looking at you down those rifle sights and shooting at you.”

“Nah, I’m just saying, like, if none of this was going on and you ran into them in public they’d probably be cool guys. If they didn’t have a job to do and we di
dn’t have a job to do, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. If none of us had a job to
do, we’d all be standing in a circle holding hands.” I drop the binoculars onto my lap, grab up the pistol and check the magazine. “These guys picked the wrong job.” I slam the mag home and hop down from the desk. “You remember the plan?”

“It was my idea
, Tim. I should be asking you that question.”

“Of course.” I kick her lightly on the side of the leg. “
Come on. Up. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”

***

I stand in the alley ducked behind a couple of plastic trash cans; those large dark green models that suburbanites can roll to the edge of their driveways with one hand while reading the morning paper with the other.

I watch Bethany as she moves towards them.

Slow.

The crocodile tears
are already rolling down her cheeks.

Her pistol concealed in the back of her jeans.

Concealed by her white shirt and her bubble jacket.

Unless they do a pat
down, she’ll be okay.

The silencer is firmly attached to the end of my HK .45. I’d dropped some of the wire
pulling gel I’d gotten from Ruiz onto the backside of the suppressor and had shaken it down good, just like he’d shown me, before attaching it to the muzzle.

She’ll whisper like a lover.

Bethany steps into the street, digging the heels of her palms into her eyeballs, turning the theatrics up to ten.

Sobbing. Shaking.

The two soldiers quickly take notice of her. The one facing her rises from his chair. He pauses for a moment, takes the rifle hanging at his side, and raises it to his navel as he stares down Bethany’s approach, looking a little dumbstruck.

I tense up and g
rab the top of one of the trashcans for support, ready to spring if he points his weapon at her.

Rabid don’t cry you dumb
sonofabitch!

Eventually
, he reaches the same conclusion.

He lowers the
rifle, letting it swing loose once more. “Hey, Brad, check it out. We got a kid.”

The other soldier stands and turns, knocking his chair back as he squints against the sunlight. “Shit, where’d she come from?”

“The alley, I think.”

Bethany
coughs, spits, and sniffs. “Please...help me.”

“
It’s okay, kid. We’re not going to hurt you.” The first soldier kneels down, getting eye level with Bethany. “I’m Josh, that’s Brad. We’re both with the Marines. The good guys.”

Good guys my ass.

“What happened, kid? You get bit?” Brad’s tone is a bit more gruff than his squad mate. His hand hovers uncomfortably close to the backside of his rifle. For every step Bethany takes towards them, he takes two back.

Bethany shakes her head. “No...no...I lost my...my...Mommy.” She tosses her head back and lets out her loudest sob yet, throwing her hands towards the sky as she falls to her knees.

Jesus Christ, don’t overdo it, sis.

“Dude, chill the fuck out, get your hand off the gun, she’s a little girl.” Josh punches his friend in the arm, nodding his head toward Bethany.

“I’ve seen little girls kill men carrying a lot more firepower than us.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not Rabid, obviously. Rabid can’t talk, you dunce.
” Josh shakes his head with frustration. “Shit, just stay here. I’ll talk to her.”

Seems like a good guy.

Josh starts towards her. Curling his lips into the biggest smile that he can manage. “Hey now, stop crying. It’s okay. You’re safe.” His voice is soft. Unthreatening. He even leaves his rifle propped by the chairs as a gesture of his good will.

Good guy. Stupid guy.

He stands over Bethany, with hands on his hips. He looks like he wants to pick her up. To embrace her. He’s never dealt with kids before. That much is obvious. Too young. He’s probably early twenties, judging by his face and the way he holds himself. The service has hardened him but the lack of years still shines through.

Brad paces behind Josh, near the chair
s, still carrying his rifle.

I’ll need to take him out first. I just need to get a clear shot.

“So, when was the last time you saw your mommy?” Brad asks.

Bethany shrugs. Head still turn
ed down. Face still buried in her hands.

How long can she keep this up?

She’s probably expecting me to break the facade at any moment, to relieve her of the pressure.

J
osh, he’s blocking the shot. I need the guy with the gun. I need Josh to get the fuck out of the way.

Kneel. Kneel. KNEEL!

Josh looks to the sky and then back towards Brad, who’s still pacing the sparkle out of the pavement behind him.

He sighs
and drops a hand on Bethany’s head, patting her like a dog. “It’s okay, kid. I just need you to pull it together and talk to me. We can help.”

You’ll help, alright. More than you know. Start by kneeling the fuck down!

And just like that, he does. 

He doesn’t telegraph it. It’s a sudden movement.

He drops his ass and points his knees. He winds up inches from her face, propped up on the tips of his toes with his butt sitting back on his heels. He lifts her chin up with one hand and rubs her shoulder with her other, smiling.

Kind eyes.

The sonofabitch has kind eyes.

He also works for the General.

Brad stops pacing
to bat a fly from his face and to tug at his balls. It’s a perfect opportunity. One that I’m not sure is going to come back around any time soon. The sun is still in his eyes. His gun is pointed at the ground.

I’ve got the upper hand here.

Time to play my cards.

I don’t spring out of cover like a maniac. Though, that’s the temptation.
Just to come out shooting. Assume control. Especially with my sister in the mix.

My nerves are all kinds of frazzled.

No.

I stay loose. Knees cocked.

I let the training lead me.

I move down the alley, pistol extended, my breathing intentional.

In through the nose and out though the mouth.

I get my sights steady.

I’m going for head shots. Just in case, he’s wearing armor under that jacket.

Don’t focus on the target. Focus on the front sight
s. Let the target blur
.

Josh sees me first. His eyes go wide and his training goes right out the window. He falls back onto his ass. His lips curled into a perfect
O
shape.

Brad sees me too. One hand is still curled around his balls.

Too damn late.

I’m already depressing the trigger before
he can let loose of his dick.

Round 1 smashes right through his left cheek.

It’s a kill shot. But I set a second round loose before the first shell casing touches the pavement.

Round 2 grazes his left ear
and shatters a window behind his head.

I drop my sights on Josh. “Don’t you fucking move!”

Bethany draws her pistol and joins me.

Josh’s hands are shaking as he raises them above his head. His voice too. “Please, don’t kill me. I was trying to help her. If you’re here to rob us
, then all we’ve got is some spare ammo and food. Take it. It’s yours.” Josh looks back over his shoulder and sees his friends gray matter splattered across the brick wall of the adjacent building. “Ah, man, fuck, you killed him?” He starts crying. “That was my boy...my brother...we came up...fuck...man.” He drops his head, the sun glinting against the top of his exposed scalp. He blubbers away, bathing the front of his fatigues in fat tears.

“
Tim, did you really...”

“Yeah, I did, just keep steady.” Josh can’t hear us, he’s curled over on himself, his palms flat against the pavement, mourning
the loss of his friend. “Josh, listen up. Cut that shit out and listen, or you’re next.”

No change. He’
s still sobbing. Pounding at the ground with his fists. Gnashing his teeth and vowing to avenge his fallen brother.

“You know what, fuck this.” I kick him in the face and send him reeling onto his back. The tears stop and the blood start
s flowing from both nostrils and the gash now sitting prominently across the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus, Tim!” Bethany startles and fixes me with a disgusted glare.

I ignore her and stand over Josh, feeling steady now. In control. I’ve definitely got his attention. “You have information I need. It’s the only reason you’re still breathing. Tell me what I want to know and you get to keep breathing. Give me shit and I’ll plant one in your face too, understand?”

The excess
tears mix with the blood and start a thin foamy cascade that wiggles down the back of his neck and begins steadily dripping to the ground. He looks up, searching my face. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

“Take a guess?”

“Hell, man, how should I know? Look around you. You know how many looters and psychos are roaming around? You could be anyone.”

“Ah, but I’m not just anyone, now, am I? I’m the one. You guys have a special hard on for me, don’t you?”

His eyes widen with recognition. “You’re...you’re the kid. The kid that took the data stick!”

I can’t help but feel a little bit of pride flood up inside of me at the notoriety. “That’s not much of a nickname,
the kid that took the stick.
”

“We heard you got picked up. That you were being protected.”

“All past tense. I’m here, with you, because you have information that I want.”

“What information? You hold all the cards. Kid
, in your position, with the heat you’ve got, you should have your nose pointed in the other direction.”

“My Ma, where is she?”

He shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You do not want to test me. I’ve had a long couple of weeks. There is very little I
won’t do at this point. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Dude, I fucking hear you. Loud and clear, I hear what you’re saying.”

“So where is she?”

“I don’t know shit about your...”

I pull the trigger and blow a hole in his bicep. I don’t have to think about it. I drew my lines before I stepped out of the alley and I’m not even close to toeing em’ yet. “No more bullshit!”

He’s wailing. All curled up on himself again. Kicking his feet around. I step back so he doesn’t catch me with the bottom of his black boots.

“Tim, stop!” Bethany grabs at me and I shove her back.

“If you can’t handle
it, then walk away!” I jam my thumb back towards the alley. “Do not interfere again! Stand there and shut up!”

She doesn’t walk. She whimpers at my rebuk
e, but she stays put.

I kick Josh in the ribs, attempting to uncurl his body and roll him over. “Josh, stay with me.” I kick him again. “Stop crying and fucking look at me! This as good as it gets for you. I’ve got enough rounds left to make your last moments on this planet a nightmare. Do you understand?”

“I...d-don’t...know...what you...w-want from me,” he chokes out, spit and mucus sliding from the corners of his mouth.”