Rage After Laughter

Their wild laughter was the first thing she heard when her family was killed. So she associated those once cheerful rhythmical contractions as something to be weary of, something to run and hide from. They all made that strange sound when they attacked, it was something left in their motor function from before their minds rotted away to something savage and unhuman.

Isabella gazed at her telescope late one night from the roof of the gymnasium when she saw an answer to her problems. There it was, in plain sight in the Pacific Ocean, an uninhabited island in the distance. There had been a dozen boats docked nearby too,

the Catalina Islands would make for the perfect sanctuary from those who attacked.

She planned her route that night before bed from the all-girls private school.

The next day she rounded up a select group of riders to join her, most of them chosen for their athleticism. They started their day sharpening their knives with bricks of whetstones as preparation. Then Isabella taught them self-defense maneuvers to protect themselves. Twenty miles away hadn't been too difficult of a journey, but she anticipated resistance closer to the city, they would pass a hot spot for Harleys.

The new guy in the group raised his hand.

He came in with his elderly Grandfather just a few weeks ago.

"Scuse me, Boss-lady?"

"Yes?"

"I have a question, trying to scratch an itch."

"Go ahead."

"Why do we call them Harleys?"

Isabella arched an eyebrow. "Where are you from again?"

"I came from St. George. It's in Utah. We call it St. Geezy there, heh."

"The names short for Harlequins. You could connect the dots from that."

"Fair enough."

"And back where you're from?"

"They call them Wards. It's an inside joke. I've never really been fond of the name myself seeing as most of my family members are...or ...were Mormons."

"How'd you get so far out here then?"

"Me and the old goat blew the rest of our gas tank heading out here because we heard the Governor here had control of the state." he sighed. "That Governor Dwayne Johnson, amiright? When push comes to shove all those Hollywood celebrities sending prayers didn't help much, did it?"

Isabella smirked, she looked down at his backpack being prepared. "Thanks for joining us on the ride, you think you got what it takes?"

"Yes ma'am, easy peasy lemon squeezy." 

"And are the rest of you all ready for the big trip!?"

"Yes, Boss! We are."

"Everyone packed their tools, spare tubes, food, and knives?"

"Yes, Boss!"

*****

The group of bicyclist began their journey, each kept a steady synchronized ride averaging 25 mph, even up and down the inclines they were consistent. They quickly merged to a quiet neighborhood Isabella had mapped-out in her head, before heading out to the long bike path that lead to the beach. 

"Oh god."

They each scrunched up their nose from the odors by the river trails, the water had been left to rot from the abandoned sanitation system. Isabella gagged. It wasn't rare to see large quantities of debris picked up by the toxic rivers, there were sometimes even a corpse or two dragged along through the green goo.

Two of Isabella's most trusted guards, Ming and Beatriz rode to the front and back of her, vetting her passageway, and calling out signals to the rest of the group in the rear.

Ming pointed her two index fingers ahead of her, it meant the path was clear.

"One Harley wandering off path" whispered Beatriz. "We'll be fine."

Ming was the historian of the group who always kept a journal, she was partial to tallying numbers, logging distances in her path and drawing maps. In her downtime, she also enjoyed writing stories about their experiences and piecing together theories about the origins of the infection.

Beatriz, was the other commander. She kept her self-groomed hair short and away from her face. On her hip, she kept a sheathed gardening sickle with a custom long handle, it had been sharpened and stained an old rusty-colored red. 

They trailed uninterrupted for the first ten miles, until someone whistled from the back. It made word to Ming who communicated it back to Isabella and Beatriz.

"Boss-lady, we have a problem." 

Isabella sighed, "Who is it?"

"Elijah. He busted his tire."

"The new guy?"

"Yes."

"He has ten minutes or we leave without him."

"Duly noted."

Isabella instructed the rest of the riders to continue on, while her and Beatriz stayed behind to guard the rookie. She wouldn't risk getting robbed or killed when most of their group had the majority of stashed weapons in their possession.

"Ming, you're too important, go ahead. Me and Beatriz will stay with the new kid and catch up with the rest later."

"Yes, Boss."

Isabella quickly noticed a few feet ahead to catch a glimpse under an approaching tunnel, it had been awfully quiet and pitch black in there.

"Better hurry the fuck up" whispered Beatriz.

Elijah swallowed his saliva and got to work, removing the old tubes from his deflated tire with the tire lever. "Eeeek. C'mon you stupid hunk of junk."

"Ready?"

"Almost there." he said pumping up and down breaking a sweat. No matter how hard he pumped air it was never enough.

He gripped the pressure of the tire, "Still flat. C'mon. C'mon."

"You almost done down there?"

Beatriz waved her index finger across her neck to Isabella gesturing that they should abandon him.

"Almost." said Elijah. He continued pumping the air before a weapon in his backpack tumbled downwards the sloping concrete river banks, creating the loudest clatters of amplified echos. 

Isabella noticed some Harley's poking their heads out through the blackness of the nearby tunnel. Elijah gasped when he saw them up close for the first time, his face quickly changed, a glance at them was enough to destroy his sanity. He found their permanent contorted grins stretched into scars on the edges of their lips the most haunting. Their eyes had been bloodshot too, with pinkish tones, a visual affirmation of the pain they had been under. They were often known to laugh maniacally when they attacked their victims, but not a lot of people knew upon further observation, they produced the most agonizing painful moans. The infection had forced them to cater to their deepest darkest of primal urges, to kill and consume.

"Beatriz. They haven't noticed us yet, but it could get ugly. Use your scythe to take a few out and lead them away to the edge of the river. Careful not to fall off."

"Ten-Four." 

"Elijah, keep your distance. Aim for the back of the neck" she said tossing him a secondary weapon she had stored, a kitchen knife to defend himself while they approached.

"You're hopeless." said Beatriz. "You're gonna get us killed."

Meanwhile, the raspy laughter commenced. The first Harley had already approached and it ran at full speed towards Elijah.

Beatriz pedaled over like a samurai from a Kurosawa movie clutching the scythe in a tight grip and swinging it from her hips. In one swift motion, she cut the top layer of one of the Harley's head exposing the soft brain tissue. It had clipped another one across the neck, leaving it's head dangling to the side of it's shoulders squirting blood up like a sprinkler. She lead a small group as they chased her down by the edges of the river and disappeared.

Isabella used the Judo she knew from a martial arts curriculum she taught and tossed a couple Harleys down the toxic river. When they began to flank her, she brought out her katana sword to fight them off, cutting limb after limb like they were made up of Paper Mâché.

One of the Harleys dove towards Elijah but missed him. Isabella ran to him and stabbed one from behind. Elijah held his knife stupefied and jittery.

"Don't just stand there, Elijah. They won't hesitate to kill you, trust me!"

"I'm trying!" He jabbed into nothing.

"Try harder! You don't want to get their infection. Whatever you do, do not let them bite or scratch you." 

Isabella continued on, fighting three of them at once with her antique sword. Another Harley took notice of Elijah and forced him to run down a steep hill towards the neighborhood side. He stumbled down and rolled his body against a fence.

The Harley approached him and tumbled with him. 

The Harley pounded his fist down, one was enough to bruise Elijah up pretty bad and make him forget where he was. Elijah cupped the top of his head and tried to block the continuing blows with his elbows. They kept beating him. It was only a matter of time if they decided to bite him. 

Then someone produced a high-pitched whistle distracting the Harley who turned around. Beatriz decapitated it on the spot.

Elijah hurled out his biles of whatever had been left in his stomach. He gurgled, and coughed, while his stomach acid had burned his throat.

Beatriz watched him suspiciously, gripping the scythe with her right hand.

"Show me your arms."

"Wh-What?"

"Show them to me, now!" 

Elijah looked up to her, blood splattered on her glasses, it was a miracle she could see out of them. She had a skull mask covering her mouth, also drenched in blood.

Elijah rolled up his sleeves and exposed his arms to her. They were bruised up red, and purple but ultimately no scrapes or bite marks of any kind.

"Thank God." he whispered to himself still trembling.

After Elijah was finally able to fix his tire and they continued on their pathway with no casualties. Isabella and Beatriz rode ahead while Elijah kept a steady pace behind. 

"Sorry about all that."

"You're very unlucky, new guy."   

"Thanks."

"Yep."

"No really, thank you for saving me back there."

"Don't mention it." 

Elijah felt something on the smaller pocket of his backpack. "Crap."

"What's wrong now?"

He looked as if he had been caught with his pants down.

"I guess I should have mentioned I had one of these." He said pulling out a handgun.

Beatriz looked at Isabella who rolled her eyes.

"Jesus, we were almost killed back there."

Isabella began to laugh loudly for the first time in a while. "You're so stupid, rookie."

Elijah had been infected with it too, cackling nervously along with them.