Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here

by Stallcup, Heath

  Her eyes widened. “You saw the results.”

  He nodded slowly. “In a healthy human. We still can’t know for sure the response of an infected individual.”

  She nodded and crossed her arms. “We’ll find that out soon enough. I just wish I could know where they’ll start.”

  Broussard shrugged again. “That is out of our hands. However, I hope they will arrange some way for us to monitor the results.”

  “Surely they will.” She spun on her heel and made for the door. “I’m going to talk with the yeoman.”

  “Why?”

  “To see if they can arrange for us to watch. I don’t expect them to take us ashore, but maybe they can set up some remote cameras or something.”

  “A drone.” Broussard shot her a grin. “If they can use them to destroy, surely they can use them to relay images.”

  She nodded at him then pulled the door open. “I’ll see what they can do.”

  Shooter slipped into the house and listened intently. He turned to Sinner and shook his head. “I think it’s empty.”

  “One way to find out.” Sinner pushed past him and hefted the sawed-off shotgun to his shoulder. “ANYBODY IN HERE?” he shouted.

  Shooter cringed and ducked beside the door, waiting for the scream that he knew was about to reverberate throughout the house. Slowly his anal sphincter loosened its grip and he slowly opened his eyes. “Really?”

  “What did you expect? We’ve cleared these houses twice now.” He stepped into the living room then turned for the stairs. “I’ll start up here.”

  “Wait! The master bathrooms always have the best stuff.” He tried to push past the larger man and found his way blocked.

  “I know.” Sinner grinned at him then turned for the steps. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “Dude, come on. I need to find Simon something or he’ll have both our heads.”

  Sinner lowered the shotgun and flashed Shooter an evil stare. “He can try.”

  Shooter sighed and fell into a slow step behind him. “Fine. I’ll check the bedroom then.”

  The pair split up at the top of the stairs and Shooter found himself in a hallway lined with bedroom doors. “I think these are the spare rooms.” He pushed the first door open slowly and stared into what was obviously a nursery. “Yeah. These are the kids’ rooms.”

  “Master’s over here.” Sinner waved him toward the other side of the hall. “You check the bedside tables, I’ll raid the head.”

  Shooter pulled the small drawers out and rifled through personal belongings. “Need any Viagra?” He paused and shook his head. “Nah, you’re a big enough dick already.”

  “Ha ha ha.” Sinner tossed items from the medicine cabinet to the floor. “You’re a real comedian.”

  “I try.” He pulled out a roll of condoms and held them at arm’s length. “Really?” He dropped them to the floor and moved to the other table. “Any luck?”

  “Only if you have high blood pressure or cholesterol.” Sinner appeared in the bathroom doorway. “How about you?”

  “Only if you want to really screw something.” He huffed as he came to his feet. “Viagra, condoms and KY Jelly.”

  Sinner hung his head and turned for the door. “Maybe the next house.”

  “Maybe we should move further out.” Shooter fell into step behind him. “I know Simon already raided most of these houses. Maybe the ones further from where we’re staying?”

  Sinner paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Maybe we should go out of the subdivision…maybe hit a pharmacy.”

  “You don’t think they’ve already been raided?”

  “By who? The Ragers?”

  Shooter shrugged. “Maybe the Cagers hit them already.”

  Sinner shook his head. “They’re plum over on the other side of town now.”

  “But they used to be closer. They were in the industrial district for a long time.” He walked outside the house and squinted in the bright sunlight.

  “Then we stay to this side of town, just back aways.” Sinner nodded toward the tiny hybrid car. “Fetch the shitmobile and we’ll check out the next neighborhood.”

  Shooter shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to risk leading the Ragers back here.” He looked to Sinner, his face serious. “Simon would be pissed.”

  “Fuck Simon.”

  Shooter nodded and looked to him with hesitation. “We could pull up stakes. Leave him sitting here with his dick in his hand and just…take off.” He gave Sinner a hopeful look.

  Sinner considered the option. “I dunno.” He scratched at his chin and hitched his wounded arm up in the sling. “He’s about crazy enough to try to track us down.”

  Shooter swallowed hard and stepped closer, lowering his voice lest the winds betray him and allow Simon to hear. “We could always try to go back to the Cagers.” He held his hands up to stop Sinner from arguing. “It’s just an option. I know they moved to a different place and all, but they have lights.”

  Sinner’s gaze narrowed. “So?”

  “Dude, if they have lights, that means power.”

  “Again, so?”

  Shooter sighed heavily and cocked his head to the side. “Power means comfort, man. Maybe even running water.” He pointed to the houses. “There’s barely a trickle from the faucets anymore. That means that unless we want to drink from the river, we better find a shit ton of bottled water and fast.”

  “That’s an awful lot of maybes.”

  Shooter shrugged. “Just till your wing heals. Then we can hit the road again. Wind in our faces, guns blazing, whatever.” He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “What’s the harm?”

  “What’s the harm?” He stepped back from the smaller man and gave him a confused stare. “We just tried to bulldoze their place and you think they’ll welcome us back with open arms?”

  Shooter shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “And once they find out that we released the Ragers on them at their old place?”

  “We tell ‘em Simon made us do it.” He nodded vigorously. “They’d believe that. Squirrel is there. He knows that Simon is batshit crazy. He even said so.”

  Sinner rubbed at his jaw. “That would be a pretty shitty thing to do. Even to a douchebag like Simon.”

  Shooter’s face fell. “The same guy who would cut your throat for a handful of Vicodin?” He shook his head. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

  Sinner gave him a dirty look. “Don’t call me stupid.”

  “I’m not!” Shooter took a step back, his hands up. “I’m just saying, we don’t owe Simon nothing.”

  Sinner nodded slowly. “Yeah, we kinda do.”

  “How? The man is a tyrant. He’s WORSE than a tyrant.” Shooter lowered his voice. “He stole other guy’s wives and made them be part of his harem. He took food from the children and stays drunk most of the time. How the hell did he earn your loyalty?”

  “Loyalty is given, not earned. You’re confusing it with respect.”

  “Fine then. Whatever.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice again. “I’m just saying that if the tables were turned, he’d toss either of us to the Ragers to save his own ass and not lose a moment’s sleep over it.”

  Sinner inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “I can’t argue with that.”

  Shooter nodded again. “So? What do you say?”

  Sinner groaned and reached into his vest pocket. “There’s six Lortabs in this bottle.” He shook it for effect. “We give these to him. Maybe spike his booze with a few extras.” He raised a brow at him.

  “You want him to overdose?”

  “No, stupid. Just knock his sorry ass out.” He squared his shoulders and stared at the house across the intersection. “Once he’s down, we roll our bikes out and we split.”

  “Go to the Cagers?”

  Sinner shrugged. “I guess. At least…at first. See if they’ll let us hole up with them until my shoulder is better.”

  “Then we hit the road.” Shooter add
ed, smiling.

  Sinner nodded slowly. “Then we hit the road.”

  Shooter slapped the man’s back in excitement, forgetting about the bullet wound. “Oh, shit…sorry man.”

  Sinner waved him off. “And you have to work harder at hiding your enthusiasm. Otherwise, Cockbite will figure out something is up.”

  Shooter nodded. “Deal.” He held his hand out for the bottle. “You want me to pull a few of these and dose his hooch?”

  Sinner shook his head. “I have something else you can use for that.” He held out a plastic baggie filled with white tablets. “Drop these in it when he ain’t looking.”

  Shooter grabbed the baggie and stuffed them into his pants pocket. “Let’s do this.”

  “I really wish you’d reconsider.”

  Trevor turned and gave him a dirty look. “Just help me transfer my goodies over and we’ll call it even.”

  Hank sighed and nodded slowly. “I just…can’t help but think that if Vicky could see your little girl that—”

  “We’ve already discussed this.” He slowed the RV beside the dead one and put the Mercedes into park. “The answer hasn’t changed.”

  Hank opened the door and stepped out. He glanced down the street and waved when Wally stuck his head out of the garage. “We’re back!”

  “Announce it to the world, why don’t ya?” Wally flipped him the bird then disappeared into the garage again.

  “He’s got a point.” Trevor stated as he pulled out a siphoning hose. “Probably shouldn’t be yelling like that.”

  Hank gave him a “duh” look. “Like they wouldn’t hear us pulling up. Or Wally beating on that dozer.”

  Trevor shrugged. “Whatever.” He stuffed the hose into the tank of the broken RV and sucked on the end. Once the fuel started to flow he stuffed it into the tank of the smaller RV and spat the gasoline from his mouth. He stood for a moment, feeling the fuel transfer through the hose. “I gotta hold this up for the siphon to keep working.”

  “Good thing that one died on the median. The tank’s higher than this one,” Hank stated.

  “Captain Obvious,” Trevor murmured. “Just grab the boxes of stuff from this one, please. You don’t have to worry about stowing it. I don’t want you to bother Patricia.”

  Hank stepped out of the RV with a box of canned goods. “So, was that her name…you know. Before? Or did you just start calling her that?”

  Trevor shot him a dirty look. “What difference does it make?”

  Hank set the box down at the side door of the RV and stretched his back. “I was just curious.” He walked back to the old RV and paused in the doorway. “Wondering did you know her before all of this happened?”

  “What the fuck? Is this twenty questions?”

  “Just making conversation, man. No need to get defensive.”

  “We’re not friends. We’re not neighbors.” Trevor continued to hold the hose, his face reddening with anger. “Our kids aren’t going to play together and I’m not bringing her into your damned compound.”

  Hank held his hands up then disappeared into the RV. He reappeared a moment later, another box in his arms. “I’m curious is all, man. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

  Trevor hung his head and shook it. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time. Then, please, just forget that you ever met us.”

  Hank stacked the box on top of the other one then stepped back to the other RV. “Okay. I’ll do that.” He paused at the door. “But you need to ask yourself this…are you doing what’s best for her?”

  Trevor shot him another dirty look. “How dare you?” He heard the gurgling sound from the hose then realized the fuel was no longer transferring. He pulled the hose out and began to roll it up. “You don’t know us. You don’t know what she’s been through. You have no right to question my parenting skills.”

  “Dude, you’re not her parent.” Hank shifted the heavy can filled box in his arms. “You said so yourself.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t raise her as my own.” He forced himself to lower his voice and he pointed to the rear of the RV. “She couldn’t make it alone out there. Not without me.”

  “Or you, without her.” Hank raised a brow at him. “But is this truly the best thing for her?”

  “What would you have me do?” Trevor threw the hose at his feet. “Move her in to your little hippie commune and then what? Have her be locked up in a tiny dark room all by herself? She deserves better than that.”

  Hank set the box down with the others then turned to him. “What if she didn’t have to be?”

  “Huh?” Trevor gave him a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t they?”

  Hank shrugged. “I have no idea. They may tell us both to go pound sand.” He stretched his back again and hooked a thumb toward the rear of the RV. “But I’ve seen for myself that she isn’t a threat. Not when you’re around.”

  “So?”

  “So…maybe they take that into consideration.” He stepped closer to Trevor and lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have your own bed to sleep in?”

  “I’ve got that.”

  “Hot and cold running water?”

  “Got that, too.”

  Hank sighed. “Other people to interact with?”

  “I’ve got Patricia.”

  “You know what I mean.” Hank put his hands on his hips. “How about a nurse who can help you keep an eye on her? I’m telling ya man, that smell? That ain’t normal.”

  Trevor shrugged. “We don’t know what’s normal for her kind.”

  Hank nodded. “True enough.” Hank sighed. “I’m gonna toss out one more thing and then I’ll drop it.”

  Trevor crossed his arms and stared at him. “Give it your best shot.”

  “My guy, Hatcher? He’s the one who sorta runs our little group.” Hank paused, his mind trying to find the right words. “He escorted the military back to Yellowstone to get the original virus. Said they were working on a cure.” He lowered his voice again and gave Trevor a solemn stare. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a solid support group if that cure comes through? Both of you would have a whole community to fall back on. You’d have…friends.”

  Trevor gave him a curious stare. “You’re serious?”

  Hank nodded. “I ain’t saying that they’ll find that cure anytime soon. Just that they’re looking. And if what Hatcher helped them get is really what they need…?” He let his last statement hang between them.

  Trevor rubbed at his chin. “I ain’t saying we’ll go back.” He glanced at the RV and where Patricia lay in bed. “But…I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 10

  Hatcher held his fingers in his ears and felt the concussive wave that struck like a wall when the explosives went off. Windows rattled and doors shook as the wave struck the exposed side of the assisted living center. A thick cloud of dirt and dust rose into the air and blew bits of debris in every direction.

  “Son of a…” Roger shook his head and worked his jaw to get his ears to pop.

  “You saw the small amount of plastic that was used,” Will Stanton practically yelled.

  Hatcher nodded and worked his head side to side, regaining his bearings. “And you can make more?”

  “As much as you’d like.” Will pointed to the stacks of clay pigeons that had been scrounged. “If we fill the cavities with this and use a pressure sensitive primer, they’re basically landmines. We can bury them anywhere around the perimeter.”

  Hatcher shook his head again and waved away the cloud of dust slowly settling. “Roger said you were going to pack them with metal to make shrapnel?”

  “Anything metallic should work, and we can mold it into the cavity along with the plastic. Nails, screws, bolts, nuts…anything small becomes a missile.” Stanton crossed his arms and raised a brow. “All I need is your go-ahead.”

  Hatcher rubbed at his jaw and glanced behind him at the children gathered near the center of the courtyard. “We’d need a way to identify where they were. I d
on’t want to risk anybody setting one off by accident.”

  “Of course.” Will rubbed at his chin as he considered possibilities. “We could leave the bright orange showing. Or perhaps tie ribbons near them to warn our people that they’re about to enter a ‘no-go’ zone.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Or both. Anybody not with us already should be warned as well. Maybe we put up signs warning them.”

  Roger raised a brow. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? If Simon sees the signs, he’ll—”

  “They’re not for Simon.” Hatcher cut him off. “When we first started this place, it was with the idea of possibly expanding.” He turned and faced Roger. “If somebody is seeking shelter, we don’t want to blow their legs off before they get here.”

  Roger nodded, uncertain that he fully agreed. “I see your point, but what’s to stop Simon again?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “We leave him one safe way at us.” He smiled. “A bottleneck, so to speak. If he tries to come at us head on, we’re ready for him.” He turned back to Stanton. “I’m sure those things will remove limbs from people, but will they blow the tracks off a dozer?”

  Will nodded. “Most certainly.”

  “Then let’s do it.” He turned to Roger. “Seriously, I want signs posted at the ends of each street. Warn them of the land mines.”

  “Is that all?” Roger gave him a surprised look. “Maybe we should tell them the safe path as well?”

  Hatcher missed the sarcasm. “That’s a good idea. If people know we’re here and want to become a productive member, they’ll need to know how to actually get to us.”

  “I was kidding, Hatch.”

  “I’m not.” Hatcher gave him a solemn stare. “These are more for the infected than Simon. But, if he’s as pig headed as we think he is, he’ll think it’s a bluff and try anyway.”

  “So he gets what he deserves.”

  “Exactly.” Hatcher squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, you wanted the old me back. Well…this is it, buddy.”

  Roger sighed heavily then nodded. “Fine. We’ll make up signs that warn of the IEDs. Then we’ll make others that tell how to get here safely.”