The sentry gave him a wide eyed stare. “Seriously?”
“But when have you ever known the government to actually get something right?”
The sentry capitulated. “You got me there.”
“Anyhow, they got upset that I didn’t announce it and give them a reason why we pulled the meds. I just couldn’t risk people losing all hope.”
The sentry nodded slowly. “I can see both sides.” He tugged at his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Want one?” Hatcher shook his head. “I’ve been limiting myself to one a day. Usually during the night watch.” He chuckled as he lit it and blew a grey column of smoke into the air. “Wife says I should just quit.”
“Smart lady.”
“Smarter than me.” The sentry turned and gave Hatcher a reassuring look. “I understand why you’d hold back. But as a member of our little community here, I can also understand why people would get their feelings hurt that you didn’t trust them with the truth. We don’t get much info from the outside. Every bit is precious.”
Hatcher turned and gave him a raised brow. “So you wouldn’t blame them for leaving either?”
The sentry chuckled. “Hell, you’d be a damned fool for leaving a set up like this.” He turned back to the gate and peered through the bars. “But it’s still a free country, last I heard.”
Hatcher patted the man’s shoulder. “If anybody does leave, let me know about it, would ya?”
“Right away, boss.” He watched Hatcher reenter the lobby then turned his attention back to the perimeter.
“To hell with the girl. I want Broussard back here.” General Vickers stood slowly and extended a long finger at the junior officer. “You made sure he was ‘vaccinated’ before he boarded the ship, didn’t you?”
The younger man nodded nervously. “Of course, sir. As was Dr. Chaplain.”
Vickers waved off his comment. “If she wants to run away from home, let her. But Broussard was on loan from the French.” A wicked smile crossed his features. “That means we’re responsible for him.”
The young officer swallowed nervously as Vickers rounded his desk. “The president himself wanted Broussard handy when we completed the seeding operation.” He stepped closer, obviously invading the young man’s personal space. “Activate his tracker and get that overstuffed French tart back here!”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The young officer saluted then turned and all but ran from the office.
Vickers reached for a decanter and poured himself a short glass from it. He allowed the sweet, woodsy scent of the scotch to tease his nose before he threw it back and enjoyed the burn in his throat and belly. “We need somebody’s head to be on the block if this cure goes south and it damned sure won’t be mine.”
Dr. Andre Broussard gently pushed the door to the lab shut and locked it. He stepped to the window and pulled back the corner of a poster to peer onto the grounds below.
“All quiet?” Carol asked.
He nodded slowly. “I still have this horrible feeling that we’re being watched.”
“Watched?” She sat up and gave him a surprised look. “By the infected?”
Broussard shrugged. “Perhaps it’s simply paranoia.” He sat down heavily and rubbed at his eyes. “It has been a tiring day.”
“But we got a lot accomplished.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “The generator is fueled and operable. We got supplies, food and fresh water.” She stood and bumped him with her leg. “We’re almost ready to start—”
A scream echoed between the buildings, cutting her off. Both researchers knew that it was close and Broussard motioned toward the candle on the counter. Carol quickly snuffed it and the pair slowly approached the windows. Broussard pulled the poster back again and the two peered between the buildings. The moon had the night lit well and they saw a lone figure stumbling across the courtyard, its hands pressed to the sides of its head as though in intense pain.
“A side effect of the cure?” Carol asked.
Broussard shook his head. “Without examining the creature, who could know.” He winced slightly and rubbed at his arm.
“Something wrong?” she whispered.
He pulled his hand back and used the moonlight to study his palm. “I felt like I had been stung.” He glanced at his upper arm again before rubbing it. “An insect, I’m sure.”
“Should we try to observe this one?”
Broussard stepped away from the window and let the poster fall back. “No.” He slid down to the floor and leaned his head against the wall. “It is too early to make assumptions and we need to finish setting up our equipment before we try anything as foolhardy as capturing a test subject.”
She sat down next to him and closed her eyes. “It was still a productive day.”
“Oui.” He stretched his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. “It was. But now we both need rest. Tomorrow will be an even bigger day.”
Simon watched his hunters trot into the darkness then turned his attention back to the people inside the store. He walked between the small clusters and pointed at different members. “You. You. You…” He waved them all towards the front of the building. “You all are going to earn your keep.”
Most simply stared at him, their gentle swaying made them appear as though each danced to the beat of their own song. He motioned with his head toward the parking lot. “Follow me.”
Simon marched past the abandoned cars and to a small stand of trees near the road. “Watch what I do.” He reached for a limb and snapped it from the trunk. He began to peel the smaller limbs from it then held it up for the rest to see. “This will become a weapon.” He turned slowly so that the men could see.
He bent low and sat on the edge of the curb, spreading his knees so that he could rub the end of the stick against the pavement. “We shape this to a point, see?” He held the stick up again and shoved the end toward each of the men. “This is a…a…” His brain throbbed in his skull as he struggled to find the right word. He could almost feel it, as though the fingertips of his memory could brush against the word, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.
With a huff he stood and thrust the homemade spear at the closest man. “It’s a WEA-PON.” The man grunted as his hands gripped the shaft. He stepped back and stared at the red scratch across his middle. “You boys get to make more of these. Pick the straightest you can find and make them smooth.” He glared at each of the men. “Our people will use these against the humans.”
Most of the Quee men stared at him in confusion. “The slow stupid food…we kill them with these.” He snatched the spear from the man and held it out for the others to see again. “Go. Make as many as you can.”
Simon turned and marched back to the store. The people gathered at the open door parted as he stepped inside. “The rest of you, gather around.” He squared his shoulders as he stared at the assembled crowd. “We have our own job to do. Drop whatever you have and follow me.”
He turned and marched out of the store, his confused people following like faithful animals. Simon stepped outside and slowed, his eyes scanning the streets. He knew the mission, but his mind couldn’t quite connect the dots.
He stepped out to the intersection and made a slow circle as his memory did its best. He could see in his mind what he was looking for, but he couldn’t quite remember what or where it was, nor how to achieve it; the concrete idea wouldn’t form.
A slow growl formed in his throat as he continued to spin slowly. Suddenly he stopped and a wicked smile formed, pulling the edges of his mouth tighter. “There.” He pointed down the road. “Follow me.”
The group fell in pace behind him and had no idea where they were going as he marched them down the street. Simon marched them across another parking lot and to the shattered front doors of another building.
His naked girlfriend stepped beside him. “More foods?”
Simon shook his head. “Better.” He pushed past her and stepped inside the giant retail store. His eyes
adjusted instantly to the near pitch black within as he upended a cart and made his way to the rear of the building.
His smile widened as he saw the long, skinny sticks in the air and he knew he was close. “Here we go.” He slowed and finally came to a stop. He pointed to the rows of items and announced, “Take all of these that you can find.”
He turned to see the Quee giving him confused stares. Simon groaned and reached for the compound bow hanging on the wall. “These!” He held it up and shook it at them. “These are weapons.” His smile broadened as he began to snatch arrows and knives from behind the counter.
“Get ‘em all!” he yelled. “Don’t leave anything behind.” He pushed the cart toward the closest of the Quee then turned his attention back to the products behind the counter.
His eyes scanned everything and he nearly yelped for joy when he saw what he really wanted. He reached beyond some overturned tins and gripped a small cardboard box in his fingers. He brought it closer to his face and stared at the letters on the side.
Try as he might, his mind just couldn’t put the markings into a form that he could recognize. He fumbled with the box and finally tore a corner loose. He shoved his finger inside and growled as 9MM ammo fell to the glass-topped counter.
“No.” He tossed it over his shoulder and reached for another box. He quickly tore the top off and dumped the contents out. He grunted as a pile of 22LR bounced on the counter and fell to the floor.
“No!” He snatched another box, then another, each containing brass cartridges of one kind or another.
Simon screamed and threw a box of ammo across the hallway, his eyes scanning the shelves. He froze when a familiar box came into view and he lunged at it. He hefted the long box and stared at it intently. His fingers fumbled again as he ripped it open and several smaller boxes fell out to the floor.
Simon hunkered and snatched up one of the smaller boxes. He ripped the top off and hooted when the shotgun shells fell to the tiles. He quickly pulled his boomstick around and plucked a shell from the floor. He stared at the weapon in his hand and willed his fingers to try to grip the cartridge. He gave a satisfied grunt when the shell finally slipped into the magazine well.
He stood and rested the bomstick across his shoulder. He nodded to his girlfriend and motioned her closer. “Get those small boxes. We’ll need them.”
He turned his attention back to the Quee and groaned as they continued to try to stack things into the same, overfilled shopping cart. He growled low in his throat and reached for the nearest woman. “Get another from the front of the store.” He pushed her towards the door. “Bring two.”
Simon leaned back and smiled as his people methodically stripped the shelves of the sporting goods store. He stepped away from the counter and peered deeper into the building. His eyes fell on something else familiar and he snapped his fingers, getting another Quee’s attention. “Take all of this, too.” He handed the sealed package of beef jerky to the woman. “Get it all.”
His girlfriend appeared at his side. “Foods?”
“Yeah, baby. Foods.” He pushed past her and yanked a football jersey from a rack. He held it out to her and draped it over her front. “I’ve never been one to cover up a woman, but you’d look good in that.” He pushed past her again and muttered, “Put it on.”
Simon watched as his people shopped for weapons of war and smiled to himself. The Cagers have no idea what’s coming for them.
Chapter 15
“You’re creeping me out.”
Hatcher’s head spun around and he stared at Cooper lying in bed, his eyes barely cracked. He smiled as he patted the older man’s arm. “Just checking on ya.”
“Your sister is doing just fine at keeping an eye on me.” Cooper groaned as he tried to sit up. Hatcher pressed him back to the mattress then leaned forward to grip a lever under the bed.
“I got it. Hold on.” He pushed Coop upright then released the lever, locking the position. “Better?”
Dave Cooper nodded and leaned his head back, a long sigh escaping as he relaxed. “To what do I owe the pleasure at such an ungodly hour?”
Hatcher averted his gaze and shrugged. “Can’t I just check in on ya without getting the third degree?”
“Nope.” Cooper studied him for a moment. “You definitely look like a man with some shit on his mind.”
Hatcher blew his breath out slowly then nodded. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”
Coop chuckled. “The cure? Oh yeah. I’m down but not dead. Everybody is talking about it.”
“Yeah, well…I’m not holding my breath.”
“You think it’s a scam?”
Hatcher shook his head. “I wouldn’t say scam. Just…”
“Too good to be true?”
Hatcher slowly stood. “The same government that caused this mess is saying they’re fixing it.” He turned and gave Cooper a serious look. “When does the government ever ‘fix’ anything?”
Cooper chuckled again then gripped his midsection. “You’re preaching to the choir, bud.” He sobered and gave Hatcher a cautioned look. “You used to work for the government.”
“I was a park ranger, not a politician.”
“Well, if it’s the politicians that made the cure, then you know that shit won’t work.”
“Amen to that.” Hatcher sat back down and rubbed at his eyes. “And not just the cure. I have this uneasy feeling that all of this is about to come down around our ears.”
“Why’s that?” Cooper’s voice was barely a whisper in the dim light.
Hatcher turned and gave him a worried look. “Because nothing good ever works out for me.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “The woman I cared most about was one of the first taken by this damned virus. My best friend got infected and I had to…” He swallowed hard.
“You put him down?”
Hatcher nodded slowly. “He begged me to.” His eyes began to get misty and he looked away. “I still have nightmares about it.”
“From what I’ve seen, you did him a favor.”
Hatcher nodded slowly. “Then don’t get me started with Buck.” He snorted a short laugh. “I can’t believe that little twerp not only survived on his own, but at ground zero.”
“I’d say he’s pretty damned innovative if he did.” Coop studied the man sitting beside him. “But now you’re convinced that the world is coming to an end?” He cleared his throat quickly. “Again, I mean.”
“I don’t know what I think. It’s just a gut feeling.”
“I’ve learned to trust those. Especially now.”
Vicky appeared in the doorway. “Danny? I don’t mean to interrupt but Trevor needs you. I think it’s important.”
Hatcher patted Coop’s arm then pushed up from the chair. “To be continued.”
“Hopefully at a more decent hour.”
Hatcher stepped into the hallway. “What’s wrong?”
Trevor pulled him gently away from the infirmary door. “There’s rumors of a cure?”
Hatcher nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t go counting chickens before they hatch.” Trevor wiped at his face and his hands began to shake. “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought it would be good news?”
Trevor nodded with his chin toward the lobby. “I’m thinking of Patricia.” He turned and gave Hatcher a worried look. “If she remembers half of the things that she’s gone through…”
Hatcher placed a gently hand on his shoulder. “One thing at a time.”
Trevor’s jaw trembled. “What if she remembers that I’m not her real dad?”
“She’ll remember that you were the one who stepped up and adopted her.” He squeezed Trevor’s shoulder. “These things have a way of working out.”
Trevor nodded slowly. “Still, I think maybe I should put some distance between her and anything that might remind her of…what happened.”
Hatcher stiffened and gave him a surprised look. “Just because they announce a cure doesn’t mean that it’s not dange
rous out there. The infected can, and will, still kill you.”
“I know this.” He looked down at his shoes and slowly shook his head. “Me and Patricia can take care of ourselves.”
“And if the cure is real? Do you really want her out there on the road?” Hatcher lowered his voice and bent closer. “At least here you’ve got a support system. There’s food, shelter…heck, there’s other kids for her to play with.”
Trevor’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I just can’t risk her remembering everything that happened to her and her family. The things that Simon did.” He shivered and looked up at Hatcher. “I don’t want her to associate me with his actions.”
“Moving her to another place won’t change what she remembers.” Hatcher stepped back and eyed him. “I think it’s a mistake, but I won’t stop you. I just wish you’d really think about this before you do it.”
Trevor nodded slowly as he turned for the hallway. “I will.”
“Do what’s best for her, Trevor.”
“I always do.”
Kevin sat up in bed, his body soaked with sweat. He could feel his chest heave as he tried to suck in more air.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room, he slowly calmed down. He pulled the blankets away and swung his feet to the edge of the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. “This has got to stop.”
He stood and stretched, his muscles aching as though he’d been tense the entire time he slept. He pushed open the bathroom door and flipped on the light. He half expected to see his face covered in blood and was actually relieved that it wasn’t.
He splashed cold water onto his face and reached for a towel, his mind replaying the blood fest that he had just dreamt.
“Come back to bed,” a voice called from his room. Kevin stiffened and felt his blood run cold. He stepped from the bathroom and reached for the light switch.
“Who are you?” he asked as the light blinded his bedmate.
Caldera 8: Simon Sez Page 11
