Caldera 8: Simon Sez

by Stallcup, Heath

  The master at arms rubbed at his chin as the gears in his mind turned. “Would you be opposed to our medical officer observing while you performed the tests?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I would welcome his assistance.” Broussard’s features softened and he gave the man a genuine smile. “In fact, you are more than welcome to sit in on the testing as well.”

  The MA’s face puckered and he shook his head. “I can think of a dozen other things I’d rather do. Like…watch paint dry.”

  Broussard chuckled as he stepped back into the lab. “Bring me the samples and your controls. I’ll be more than happy to test them.”

  “Controls?”

  “The standards you want them tested against.” He locked eyes with the man. “A sample from the victim, or a sampling of hairs from McAlester’s hair brush. Something I can compare the results to.”

  The master at arms nodded. “I’ll have our medical officer bring them. When can you do this?”

  “Immediately. Currently, that equipment is not in use, so it’s just a matter of obtaining the samples.”

  “I’ll have him bring them at his earliest convenience.” He narrowed his gaze at the researcher. “I want to say thank you for your assistance, but I’m still not sure you’re on the up and up.”

  “I guess we’ll find out once the results are in.” Broussard stiffened momentarily. “Do you have Dr. McAlester in custody at the moment?”

  He bristled slightly before he shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s only so many places he can hide. It’s just a matter of—”

  “Chief!” a uniformed man yelled from the hallway. “We got him!”

  The master at arms spun and reached for the door. “Where is he?”

  “He killed a machinist in the lower levels.” The man paled visibly. “The guy who reported it said that he was…eating him.”

  The master at arms turned and narrowed his gaze at Broussard. “Still think your friend is innocent?”

  Simon continued to bark orders, firing salvo after salvo of flaming arrows and spears into the compound. He smiled as he watched fire belch from broken windows and a warm orange glow appeared to take form behind the adobe walls.

  He sprayed lighter fluid on the next round of arrows and watched as Clyde lit them aflame. Just as the arrows were drawn back and loosed, something struck him in his left arm, spinning him around and pulling him to his knees.

  Simon looked down at his leather biker jacket and screamed as blood poured from the wound, washing his arm in thick, dark liquid. With his right hand he gripped the wound and threw his head back, screaming into the chill night air.

  Clyde appeared by his side and began tugging the leather jacket from his body. “What are you doing?!”

  Clyde pushed him to the ground and tugged the leather belt from Simon’s jeans. He wrapped it around his arm, just above the wound and cinched it tight as Simon squirmed and screamed.

  He rose from Simon’s body then grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him to his feet. “War!” Clyde pointed at the compound, flames rising higher into the night sky.

  Simon squeezed his eyes shut as fire radiated up his arm and down to his fingertips. He opened his eyes and scanned the ground. He found what he was looking for and gripped the bottle with his right hand. He took the cap in his teeth and twisted it loose.

  Tilting the bottle back, he took several long pulls from the brown liquor before lowering it. He took a long breath and let it out slowly, his muddled mind trying to force the pain away.

  He turned back to the bowmen and nodded. “Fire!”

  Chapter 27

  Hatcher slammed another magazine into the rifle and chambered a round. “We need more firepower on the East wall!” He watched as two more men peeled away from the front line and trotted past him, keeping close to the adobe wall.

  An explosion echoed off of the walls of the compound and all eyes momentarily turned to the west. “They’re moving through the alley! Get some men on that West wall!” He grabbed the closest man to him and pushed him toward the western border.

  “Simon is out there.”

  Hatcher spun to see Big Mike standing beside him. “He can’t be.”

  “It was him. He’s leading this group of assholes.” Mike pointed toward the stand of trees where the flaming projectiles were originating. “I saw him myself. Tried to take him out, but…”

  “But?”

  Mike shrugged. “I have no idea if I hit him or not.”

  Hatcher took a moment to catch his breath. “I know we dropped at least one archer. But as soon as he went down, another took his place.” He looked up at Mike. “I can’t tell how many there are out there.”

  “Enough.” Mike clenched his jaw then slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle. “We need to end this. Now.”

  Hatcher nodded. “I hear ya. But I honest to god have no idea how to do that.”

  Mike turned and pointed to the truck. “With that. They’re using wooden spears, rocks and arrows. With that we can drive right through them and if Simon is still standing, we run the son of a bitch over.”

  “Then what?” Hatcher asked. “We still have no idea how many Zulus are out there. And whoever took the truck could be driving straight into a suicide mission.”

  “Take a look behind you, Hatcher. The place is on fire. We need to direct more people to fighting that while one of us cuts the head off the snake.”

  Hatcher stared at the flames threatening to overtake their home then back towards the truck. “Fine. You direct the people inside the courtyard on damage control. I’ll take the truck and—”

  “Hell no!” Mike interrupted. “Like it or not, you’re the leader. People need you here.” He stepped up and thrust his jaw out. “I’ll take the truck.”

  “You’re still healing from being gutted.” Hatcher deadpanned. “If I’m gonna send somebody out there in a truck, it will damned sure be somebody—”

  “You need able bodied people here to contain the fires.” Mike shook his head. “Find me a driver. I can shoot while they press the go pedal.”

  Wally placed a hand on Hatcher’s shoulder. “I got this.” Before he could argue, Hank stepped beside Mike. “I mean, WE got this.”

  “I can’t send you guys out there.”

  Wally smiled at him. “We ain’t asking.” He slapped Mike’s shoulder. “I’m driving. You shoot.”

  Hatcher opened his mouth again to argue but both men darted past the adobe wall and jumped into the truck. He watched as the engine roared to life and the truck slammed into the double chainlink gates, throwing them open.

  “Remind me to ground you boys when you get back.” He sighed heavily and glanced up at to the heavens. IF you get back.

  Mike gripped his middle as the truck bounced off of the chainlink gates. “Take it easy.”

  “We’re being pelted with arrows and you want me to slow down?” Wally shot back through gritted teeth. He cut hard to the left when an arrow pierced the windshield and sank into the vinyl seat between the two men. “I don’t want to be out here any longer than we have to!” He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and veered the truck toward the closest stand of trees.

  “That clump there!” Mike pointed. “I’m positive that’s where I saw him.”

  “In for a penny…” Wally shouted over the revving engine.

  He flipped on the headlights and watched as pale bodies dove to the sides to avoid being hit. He swerved the truck again as a volley of arrows glanced off the side.

  The truck jerked to the other side as something flattened a tire, pulling the truck in the opposite direction. “Son of a bitch!” Wally yelled as he fought the steering wheel. He glanced at Mike. “Don’t just sit there looking pretty. SHOOT something!”

  Mike leaned against the door and propped the rifle on the side mirror. He angled the stock to sweep side to side and began spraying in the general direction of the trees.

  “Christ! Can you try to avoid some of the bumps?”


  “Keep bitching! That way I know you’re still alive!” Wally clenched his jaw as the nose of the truck dove into a shallow depression, spraying dirt, grass and debris across the hood as it bounced back up.

  The other front tire blew and the truck jerked to the other side as more arrows pelted the metal body. “They’re persistent little bastards, I’ll give ‘em that!”

  “Heads up!” Mike yelled as a spear slammed through the windshield and nicked Wally’s ear before shattering the rear window.

  Wally slapped at the side of his head to make sure the major parts were still intact then twisted the steering wheel hard, pointing the front of the truck straight for the trees. “Fuck these assholes!”

  Mike whooped as he let loose another round of hot lead. “For Valhalla!”

  Broussard wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared at Dr. McAlester. The man was handcuffed, bound and tied to a metal chair. Dried and crusting blood covered his mouth and stained the front of his shirt. Dark smears of black grease shone under the bright lights of the holding cell.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was infected.”

  Broussard turned and gave the medical officer a questioning look. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your colleague appears infected.” He turned and crossed his arms, giving the researcher a critical stare. “But he doesn’t show any light sensitivity and there’s no blood pooling the sclera. His eyes appear alert and he seems in otherwise normal health.”

  “Except for the part where he’s trying to chew off his own nose.” Broussard sighed as he watched Kevin snap and snarl, bloody saliva hanging from his jaws as he struggled with his bonds.

  “Considering we have no infected onboard this vessel, is it safe to assume that the virus is now airborne?” The medical officer rose a brow at him. “Or is this what your ‘cure’ does to the uninfected?”

  The accusatory tone wasn’t missed.

  Broussard lowered his eyes, his head shaking. “I honestly have no idea what’s happening here.” He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, his eyes raising to observe Dr. McAlester once more. “I suppose it’s possible that the virus has mutated again.”

  “Then one might conclude that others aboard the ship would suffer the same fate.” He cleared his throat for effect. “Yet, here we are with just this one researcher who seems affected.”

  “So far,” Broussard added, sending a chill up both men’s spines.

  The medical officer lowered his head and appeared to be studying his shoes intently. “I think I need to run this turn of events up the chain of command.”

  Broussard nodded slowly. “Yes. I believe you are correct.” He turned and gave the man a grave look. “That would be the prudent thing to do.”

  He turned to leave when the medical officer stepped in front of him. “Are we looking at a second mass extinction event here?”

  Broussard sighed and gave the man a defeated look. “I do not know.” He glanced at Kevin once more then looked away. “If so, it is one is of our own making.”

  Roger cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted it. The pain that shot from his fingertips to his skull seemed to increase with each beat of his heart. He sucked in air to scream and felt something squeeze his other hand. His head twisted to the side and he saw Candy’s tear-streaked face suddenly brighten.

  “Vicky! He’s awake!” She squeezed his hand tighter and hovered over his face. “Stay with me, Roger. Do you hear me? Stay with me. Vicky’s prepping the O.R. and she’s gonna fix you right up. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”

  Roger fought the urge to scream as the pain increased and clenched his jaw tight. He had to put on a show of toughness for his bride to be. He couldn’t let her know how much he hurt.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her and was shocked as a scream echoed in the small infirmary. It took him a moment to realize it was him.

  Candy appeared over his face again, her reddened eyes filling with tears again as she spoke. He couldn’t hear her as the thudding in his ears increased to block out all other sounds.

  Vicky appeared in his line of sight with a syringe. He didn’t feel her jab the needle into him and he barely caught the word “morphine” before he noticed his vision getting blurry.

  He looked back at Candy and tried to apologize for worrying her. He knew that she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, what with being pregnant.

  Roger’s fuzzy mind focused on that one word: Pregnant. His lover was pregnant. It was his child. He forced himself to suck in air, filling his lungs completely.

  He had to fight the darkness. He had to remain alert. He had to keep fighting. He had to stay alive.

  He was going to be a daddy.

  Roger turned to face Candy again and gave her a smile. He was going to be a daddy and it was all thanks to her. He opened his mouth to tell her how much he loved her when the world went dark.

  Simon shook his head to keep his vision clear. Between the blood lost and the liquor he sucked down, the world was become fuzzy. Fast.

  Clyde steadied him as the bowmen nocked the next round of arrows. Clyde pressed the bottle of lighter fluid tightly to Simon’s hand; he had to stare at the rags for a moment before he squeezed the clear fluid onto them. He watched as Clyde lit the arrows, then the bowmen looked to Simon for the order to fire.

  Simon stared at the pretty flames and smiled to himself. The bowmen began to worry as he swayed side to side, his eyes locked on the arrows.

  Clyde yelled something and pointed. Simon had to force his eyes away from the mesmerizing flames to see what the commotion was about. It took him a moment to realize that the white lights pointed at them was a vehicle.

  He stumbled back a step and stared in awe as his bowmen loosed their flaming arrows at the rapidly approaching truck.

  Simon’s world spun as Clyde tackled him to the ground and the truck crashed into the stand of trees they were using for cover. He barely caught the outline of one of his bowmen shuddering between the tree trunk and the front of the truck.

  In Simon’s alcohol-dazed mind, it appeared as though the hunter was performing a ritualized dance. A dance of the dead.

  Clyde lifted him to his feet and Simon caught the silhouette of a large, hairy man stepping around the front of the truck, the headlights blacking out all detail of the walking giant.

  Simon reached out with his good arm and gripped Clyde for support just as Clyde’s head exploded; dark blood and gray matter splattering the side of Simon’s face.

  He spun and landed hard on the dusty ground, his good arm unable to support his weight as he rolled to his side. With a grunt, Simon pushed himself onto to his back and stared up at the giant standing over him.

  The synapses in his brain fired, connecting old memories as the man’s face came into view. I know you.

  Simon pointed at Savage with his good arm and gave him an evil grin. “I know you.” Simon chuckled to himself as he tried to prop himself on his good elbow. “I killed you.”

  Mike bent low and snarled at the man who was once his leader. “It’s your time, cockroach.”

  Simon laughed as his brain processed the words. He knew those words. They were the words he’d used in “the before.” Simon lay back on the ground and pointed at Mike. “Simon says…DIE.”

  Mike shook his head at the snarling beast mocking him from the ground. He raised the rifle and pressed the barrel to his forehead. “No resurrecting from this one, you bastard.”

  Simon leaned forward, pressing his forehead tighter to the barrel. “SIMON SAYS DIE!”

  Mike stiffened, his eyes wide and a mask of fear painted his features. He tried to force his trigger finger to apply pressure but it was as if his brain had been disconnected from the nerves required to do so. He watched as his world tilted to the side and his head impacted the hard earth…a wooden spear thrusting from the back of his neck and protruding through his throat.

  He blinked rapidly, the dust scratching at his eye
s as Simon came back into view. Mike wanted to curse the man, to reach out and crush his skull with his bare hands. As his vision began to grow dark, he groaned inwardly.

  He really didn’t want Simon to be the last thing he saw on this earth.

  A Note from the Author

  From the desk of Heath Stallcup

  A personal note-

  Thank you so much for investing your time in reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment and leave a review. I realize that it may be an inconvenience, but reviews mean the world to authors…

  Also, I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at my blog: http://heathstallcup.com/ or via email at heathstallcup@gmail.com

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  Also By Heath Stallcup

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