Hatcher cringed and patted the man’s shoulder. “Sorry to dredge up old memories.”
“Not old enough,” the sentry mumbled. “I’m glad that Simon bought it the way he did. He was a sick and twisted individual. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Rager that ate him didn’t catch something.” He turned back to the edge and lifted his binoculars. “They seem almost tame compared to him.”
Carol double checked the windows before she struck the match, lighting the small candle that would keep her company through most of the night. She double checked the locks on the doors and rifled through her meager supplies.
She used the candle to light a gas burner and placed a wide mouthed beaker atop the metal stand. The can of soup that she poured into the beaker didn’t look appealing but the aromas that wafted from the bubbling mass made her mouth water.
She stirred the mix while it heated and carefully tested it with her finger. She wanted it warm, but not so hot that she’d have to wait to eat.
When it was warm enough she sat on the floor and dipped the stale crackers into it, washing the mess down with a room temperature Fresca.
She fought the urge to cry.
Being left behind had her both frightened and relieved. She cursed herself silently as she ate the soup up. “How could I have been so misguided?” She thumped her head lightly against the concrete block wall. “I can’t believe that I risked both of our lives because…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
She finished her calorie-deficient meal in silence then used a small amount of the bottled water to clean out the beaker. She settled in on the thin palette she had made on the floor and squeezed her eyes shut. The distant screams outside chilled her to the bone as she tried to force herself to sleep.
She remembered the look on Andre’s face when she explained her theory of how the military would “use” women as breeding stock to rebuild humanity. She sighed inwardly and pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Andre,” she whispered softly. “I hope they didn’t hurt you.”
She rolled over and tried to push the thought from her mind. She saw the expression on the soldier’s face that hit him across the back of the head before they dragged him off. He was filled with self-righteous anger, as if to say, “How dare you drag us out here to get you?”
She fought the urge to cry but her body rebelled. She could feel herself sobbing before she even realized that she’d begun.
Simon paced the grocery store and glared at his sick troops. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that so many had fallen ill so quickly; just hours before they were mastering new weapons. They were throwing spears and shooting arrows and waving knifes like true hunters.
He leaned against the checkout station and slowly peered toward the open doors. He could see a few of his clan milling about outside, their voices low.
His paranoid mind was curious and he narrowed his gaze as he pushed off the station and silently made his way toward the entrance. He paused just inside the doors and let the breeze carry the voices to him.
“They need to be well,” a woman softly stated.
“What is causing this?” one of the new hunters asked.
Clyde stood stoic, his eyes constantly scanning the area beyond the parking lot. “We fight tomorrow regardless.” It wasn’t a question. “If we have to carry them, we will.”
“And those who die?” the man asked.
Clyde never wavered. “We eat.”
The woman nodded. “They will strengthen us for the battle.”
Simon smiled to himself as he stepped out into the night air. “Anything out there?”
Clyde shook his head. “Nothing.”
Simon watched the new hunter and the woman step back as he approached. They allowed their Alpha room, their eyes downward.
“How many are sick?” When nobody spoke he reached out and took the woman by the chin, lifting her eyes to meet his own. “How many sick?”
She seemed to tremble in his hand. The few wisps of hair still clinging to her head shivered as she shook her head. “Most.”
“How many hunters are well?”
Clyde finally turned his attention from the perimeter and faced him. “Only a few.”
“Enough that we could properly study the Cagers?” He waited while Clyde processed the question.
“Study?”
“Watch them. See what they usually do at night. Learn their ways so we can decide how to beat them.”
Clyde’s face twisted in confusion again. “We beat them with sticks. And rocks.”
“How we win!” Simon was beginning to lose patience. “How we kill them all.”
Clyde still couldn’t understand. He simply stared at Simon. “We kill them.”
Simon inhaled deeply to yell but slowly blew it out. He squeezed the sides of his head and fought the urge to strike the man. “We need to figure out HOW we are going to get to them so we can kill them. They are…” His mind fought for the word fortified. “They are INSIDE. We have to get to them to kill them.”
Clyde nodded slowly. “We go inside. We kill them.”
Simon sighed heavily. “Gather the hunters that are able to travel. We go to the Cagers and watch them. We decide HOW we will get inside to kill them.”
“No fight?”
“Not tonight.” Simon smiled broadly. “Tonight we look. We plan.”
Clyde nodded and turned for the door. Simon eyed the small framed woman standing in front of him. He lifted her face again and stuck his fingers into her mouth, checking her teeth. “You’ll do.”
He pushed the other hunter toward the door. “Make sure he gets weapons. In case we’re spotted.” The hunter nodded quickly and darted toward the door.
Simon turned his attention back to the woman and gripped the tattered remains of her shirt. With a tug he ripped it from her body and gave her an approving stare. “We have a few a minutes.” He pushed her to the ground as he struggled with his pants.
As he climbed atop her, he grabbed her by the jaw and turned her face to his. “Woman, can’t you pretend to be interested?”
Chapter 19
Hatcher turned at the knock at his door. “Yeah?”
A sentry stepped inside. “I’m sorry to bother ya, but we’ve had a couple of incidents.”
Hatcher pushed away from his desk. “Come in. What’s going on?”
The sentry gave a cautious glance through the window of the office then stepped forward. “I don’t want to get anybody in trouble…”
“But…” Hatcher waved him on.
“We had a couple of incidents that just shouldn’t have been.” The man slumped his shoulders. “Heck, it may be nothing.”
“I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.” Hatcher waved the man further into the office and motioned to a chair. “Just spit it out and we’ll patch it together if we have to.”
The sentry sat down and pulled his cap from his head, working the material between nervous hands. “I just got off watch and…” He hesitated, swallowing against his sore throat. “And there were a couple of occurrences that I wouldn’t normally think anything of except they happened so close together.”
Hatcher sighed and gave the man a bored look. “Just get it off your chest.”
“Well, sir, there was a couple of near skirmishes that we had to break up.” He looked up at Hatcher with confusion on his face. “I mean, guys were about to start throwing punches until we stepped between them and made them go opposite directions.” He sighed and sat back. “Like I said, I wouldn’t think twice about policing a fight but this was different. There weren’t no need for them to be spattin’.”
“I’m not following.”
“One of the fights was just because a fella looked at the other guy. The next thing you knew, they were puffed up and pushing each other, getting real red in the face. We no sooner broke that up and another started in the courtyard. Except these two guys were best friends.” The man glanced to
the floor and shook his head. “I got one of them aside and asked what the hell and he seemed to calm down almost instant-like. He said he had no idea what happened or why he lost his temper.”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “And you felt that this needed to be reported?”
“You said anything out of the ordinary, so…” The sentry trailed off.
Hatcher nodded as he came to his feet. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be sure and pass the word to the next watch to be on the lookout for—”
“Hatcher!” Roger yelled from outside the door. “We got a brawl!”
Hatcher watched Roger dart around the corner and he leaned to the side to peer through the glass window. He could see a group of men scuffling just outside the main lobby. “Like this?” He pointed.
The sentry came to his feet and fell into step behind him as he marched through the main lobby. He stood aside as two sentries pulled a man from another and two other men separated another pair.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Hatcher barked.
The men who, just moments before, were wide eyed and ready for blood seemed to deflate, their anger dissipating. Roger pulled one of the scuffling men aside. “The man asked you a question. What were you fighting about?”
The man shook his head. “I don’t…I can’t remember.” He glanced to the other man, whom he’d been trading blows with, and he seemed just as surprised.
“You’re telling me that the four of you were going at it over…nothing?” Hatcher planted his hands on his hips and glared at the men. “No reason. You just felt like starting a fight club?”
The men slowly lowered their eyes and shook their head. Roger pushed the man he held toward the hall. “At the risk of sounding like a parent, go to your room and think about what the hell you were doing.”
Hatcher turned and raised a brow at him. “If you say, ‘just wait til your father gets home’ I’m taking away your man card.”
Roger gave him a sour look. “It’s not like we have a jail set up or a drunk tank we can stuff them in.”
“I want to know what triggered this,” Hatcher stated loudly. He looked to the remaining men. “Somebody better start explaining.”
One of the men looked up and gave him a sheepish smile. “I honestly can’t say, sir.” He glanced at the man he had been fighting with. “It was just like…something snapped. On the inside.”
The other man nodded. “It was like I suddenly was filled with rage and he was the closest thing.” He gave the other man a nod. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what came over me.”
Hatcher groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “Take them to Vic. Have her give them the once over.”
“What are you thinking?” Roger asked.
“Maybe this is a side effect of the ‘cure’ that we didn’t know about.” Hatcher shrugged. “Or maybe we’ve just been locked up behind these fences for too long.”
Roger motioned the men toward the hallway. “You head the man. Infirmary.”
Hatcher watched as the men marched down the hallway then turned back to the sentry. “I’m guessing this is what you were talking about.”
The man nodded, his face sullen. “If we start turning on ourselves…”
“Don’t worry.” Hatcher gripped the man’s shoulder. “If a real threat came along, I’m sure they’d have snapped out of it and redirected their anger to the bad guys.”
The sentry gave him a blank stare. “I hope you’re right.” He turned and made his way toward his own room.
Hatcher watched the people depart and rubbed at his neck. “Great.” He swallowed and grimaced. “Now I’ve got this shit, too.”
Dr. McAlester opened the door to his bathroom and winced at the smell. He hadn’t realized that the man he’d clubbed to death had soiled himself, but the smell now was overwhelming in such tight quarters.
He dragged the body from the shower and noted that rigor had set in. “Great.” He stood back and stared at his victim. “I either get to bunk with Captain Shitty Britches or risk dumping him and hope they don’t realize that he’s already stiffened up.”
Kevin collapsed onto the narrow mattress and wiped a hand across his face as he tried to imagine what to do next.
He stared at the hammer still sitting on the shelf and the body sprawled out on his floor. Without thinking, he stood and wiped off the handle of the hammer and dropped it to the floor. He left the dead sailor half in the doorway to his bathroom and stepped back.
“No time like the present.” He turned and pulled open the door to his stateroom and stepped into the hallway. “Help!” he cried out as loudly as he could. “I need a medic over here!”
Seeing nobody rushing to the scene he trotted down the short hallway and peered around the corner. He yelled again and a man in uniform stepped around the corner. “Get the medic, quickly! There’s a hurt man in my stateroom!”
Kevin watched as the soldier disappeared and when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching he turned on his best acting skills. He waved the men toward him then darted toward his cabin. “He’s in here on the floor.”
Kevin stepped aside and held the door open as men poured into his private space. They quickly approached the fallen man and attempted CPR while Kevin looked on, knowing full well that they were wasting their time.
An older man entered the room carrying a canvas bag and did a double take. “Oh shit. He’s been dead a while.” He bent low and waved the soldiers away from the remains. “Yeah, he’s in rigor.” The man stood and eyed the body. “I need to get him to sick bay for a postmortem.”
A large, dark skinned man appeared in the doorway. “How long?”
The older man shook his head. “I can’t know for sure until I examine him.” He turned and looked at Kevin. “How long has he been here?”
Kevin gave him a surprised look. “I have no idea. He wasn’t here when I left for the lab this morning.”
“What time was that?” The larger man asked.
Kevin did quick math in his head and added two hours to his time at work. “I arrived at the lab around 5:30 or 6 this morning.” He gave him a slight shrug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really think to note the time exactly.”
“It’s something to work with,” the older man stated as he came to his feet. He pointed to one of the soldiers. “Grab a gurney and a body bag.”
Kevin hugged the wall as they loaded his victim and went through his room with a fine toothed comb. The bloody hammer wasn’t missed.
He found himself bombarded with questions as people poured over his belongings. “Did you know the victim? Had you ever spoken to him? Did you see or hear anything peculiar? Did he keep his door locked? Did anybody else have regular access to his stateroom?”
Kevin did his best to answer the questions as honestly as he could and still keep suspicion off of him and was about to grow aggressive from the repeated questions when Andre Broussard arrived at the door.
“I’d heard there was an incident.” He gave Kevin sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry, Dr. McAlester. I would have come sooner had I realized.”
“That’s okay.” Kevin stood and motioned toward the men still in his room. “I think we’re about done.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done,” the master at arms stated bluntly. He glanced at Broussard. “Who are you and why are you tromping around my crime scene?”
Dr. Broussard cleared his throat and nodded toward Kevin. “We’re colleagues. You might have caught wind of the cure to the rage virus?” He gave the large man a soft smile. “That was us.”
“Yay for you.” He turned his attention back to Kevin. “I’m sure there will be more questions.” He flipped his little notebook shut. “I can find you where?”
Kevin gave him a surprised look. “Here on the ship, I’m certain.”
“That’s not what I meant.” The MA crossed his arms and glared at him. “You won’t be staying here; this is an active crime scene.”
The master at arms raised a brow at him then jotted a note in his pad. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Let me guess,” Kevin goaded. “Don’t leave town?”
Broussard gave him a scowl and quickly shook his head. The master at arms actually smiled at him. “Cute.” He bumped Kevin’s shoulder as he exited the room. He stood just outside the door and waited for the two researchers. “You need to leave.”
“Can I get my things first?” Kevin asked as he stepped toward the bathroom.
“Negative!”
Kevin froze then slowly turned. “Not even my toothbrush?”
“Not even. I told you, this is a crime scene.”
Kevin sighed and turned for the door. “Great.” He stepped past the large man and glanced at Broussard. “I’d hate to think that my toothbrush or deodorant was a murder weapon.”
Broussard shushed him quietly but Kevin continued to goad. “I’m sure the big bloody hammer in the floor next to the body was just a prop. My shampoo and underwear…now that’s real evidence.”
“Dr. McAlester!” Andre pulled him down the hallway as the master at arms began to tape off the doorway. “This isn’t like you. What’s gotten into you?”
Kevin stopped at the end of the hall and blew his breath out hard. “He was just being a dick.” He glanced back toward his stateroom and grimaced. “He knows that there would be no harm in my taking a few personal items. He just wanted to exercise authority over me.”
Broussard sighed and pulled him toward the lab. “My room isn’t large, but we can alternate its use. I’m sure we can find you a change of clothes.”
“That isn’t the point.” Kevin balked and stared at him. “Hell, I could sleep in the lab if I really wanted to.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “That guy just wanted to make life as uncomfortable for me as he could.”
“Regardless.” Broussard motioned him along. “Let the man do his job. Somebody was murdered in your room. I’m sure they need to search for trace evidence.”
Caldera 8: Simon Sez Page 14
