Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here

by Stallcup, Heath

  “Good man.” Hatcher shot him a wink then turned back to Stanton. “How quickly can you get these made and put into place?”

  Stanton shrugged. “Pretty quick. We’ll plant them in the ground before adding the primers. It’s just safer that way.”

  “Let’s get it done. It will be one less thing to worry about.”

  Carol yawned as she sipped at her coffee. “Why does the military have to start their day before the sun even comes up?” She shivered at the cold winds blowing in from the ocean and tugged the collar of her coat closer.

  “Early to bed, early to rise, I suppose.” Broussard watched as the soldiers affixed the tanks to the rotary wing craft. He didn’t know, nor did he care what type of helicopter it was, though he did hope that the downdraft from the blades would help push the mist to the ground faster. “What did your yeoman friend say about the drone?”

  “He said they’d do what they could, but they’re relying on personnel on the ground.” She shivered again and sipped her coffee. “They decided that their first test area would be around certain military bases that still have uninfected people inside.”

  Broussard nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. If they know where there are clusters of uninfected, it would behoove them to begin there.”

  Carol shuddered and slipped in behind Broussard, using his body as a wind break. “I’m freezing out here.”

  Broussard turned and gave her a subtle look of surprise. “It’s not that chilly.” He reached up and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re warm.”

  His tone was more of an accusation than a statement. She turned and gave him a wide-eyed stare. “My throat isn’t sore.”

  “Yet.” He tugged at her sleeve. “We need to give you a thorough once over.”

  She tugged back and held her ground. “It could be anything. It’s not like we’re sealed in a steel prison with hundreds of others. The microbial soup that we breathe daily is a breeding ground for any number of—”

  “Now.” His tone was stern and his face stoic.

  She lowered her voice and gave him a knowing look. “If it is an exposure to the cure, then it was inevitable. You said it yourself…eventually, everybody will be exposed to it. If I’ve been exposed and contracted it, then…so be it.”

  Broussard sighed heavily and couldn’t think of a proper rebuttal. “I would feel better if we knew for sure.”

  “As would I.” She nodded to the chopper that was beginning to increase the rate of rotation. “But I want to watch this. It could be historic.”

  Broussard nodded and turned back to the helicopter. “As soon as it’s left though…”

  She nodded behind him. “You can poke, prod and take all of the samples you want.”

  They turned slightly away as the wash from the blades increased and barely caught the wheels lift from the deck. They both stood at the rear of the ship and watched as the craft turned, banked, and flew away from them.

  Once the dust had settled and the running lights were all that could be seen, Broussard turned and gave her a knowing look. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  She nodded and sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose I could just go back to bed and we start at a decent hour, could we?”

  He shook his head and nodded to the steel door with his chin. “Never a better time than now.”

  She groaned as she turned and stomped toward the door in an overly dramatic fashion. “But mom…just ten more minutes.”

  “You are not humorous.”

  “I tend to make bad puns when I’m worried.” She turned at the door and faced him. “We both know that eventually, everyone will be exposed…”

  “You’re just not quite ready to be part of ‘everyone,’ are you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’d be worried. It didn’t hurt Kevin.”

  That we know of. Broussard gave her a soft smile then pulled the door open. “After you.”

  Simon sat back in the recliner with his feet up. He tossed a couple of the Lortabs into his mouth and chewed them while Shooter grabbed him a fresh bottle of hooch. “Ugh, these things are nasty.”

  “You’re not supposed to chew 'em.” Sinner stated while staring out the window. “It will be sunup soon.” He turned back to Simon and shook his head. “You’re going through those things like Skittles. That’s all we could find.”

  Simon gave him a crooked smile. “If I run out, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing your stash with me.”

  Sinner clenched his jaw and fought the urge to inform him that those were his. “I’m about out. You better make those last.”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “What?” He picked up the pill bottle and rattled it. “I only got one left.”

  “Then I’d say to make it last. Save it for when you really need it.”

  “I know you prefer brown liquor but this is all I could find.” Shooter held up the pint of rum. “It’s spiced.”

  Simon groaned and reached for the bottle. “When it rains it fucking pours. First, you shitheads come back with a half dozen pills then you tell me I’m down to just rum?” He twisted the cap off the bottle and tilted it back, sucking from it.

  Sinner glanced to Shooter who gave a barely perceptible nod. “Sorry boss. The only stuff left after that is the clear stuff.”

  Simon continued to suck on the bottle until it was nearly empty. “Fuck me!” He slammed the bottle down on the side table and shook his head. “I can’t get the taste of those pills out of my mouth.”

  “M-Maybe you should eat something?” Shooter pointed to the kitchen. “I think there’s still a can of chili you could—”

  “Shut up and see if you can find something stronger than rum.” Simon belched loudly and leaned his recliner back farther. “The strong stuff. Maybe Everclear or…something.”

  “You got it.” Shooter disappeared into the garage again and Sinner turned his attention back to the window.

  “When the sun comes up me and Shooter can slip into town. Maybe hit some of the pharmacies. I bet we can find one or two that hasn’t been cleaned out yet.”

  Simon yawned and nodded at him. “That’s a hella idea.” He pushed the recliner back flat and closed his eyes. “Ya know…I think them pills are starting to kick in.”

  Sinner fought the urge to smile. “You rest. We’ll do what needs doing just as soon as it’s clear out.” When Simon didn’t reply, he turned slowly and stared at his sleeping form.

  Shooter shot back into the house and waved the bottle of clear liquor. “I found—” Sinner held a finger up to his lips, shushing him. “Is he out?”

  Sinner nodded. “Took longer than I expected.” He picked up the bottle with the remaining Lortab. “Fucker ate all my pills.”

  Shooter gave him a slight shrug. “We can find you more.”

  Sinner sighed and set the bottle on the side table. “Let him have it.” He turned to Shooter and nodded. “Is your shit packed?”

  Shooter shrugged. “What’s to pack? I got one change of clothes.”

  “Grab it and come on. We got some miles to put between us.” Sinner turned for the door to the garage and Shooter held a hand up, stopping him. “You don’t want to try the Cagers?”

  Sinner sighed and looked away. “We had our shot there before. Neither of us felt right about the place.”

  “That was before.” Shooter whispered. “Now they got resources.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “They got lights, brother.” His eyes searched the larger man’s face. “Lights. You know what that means.”

  Sinner ground his teeth together and glanced back at the window. “It means they’ll be attracting every Rager out there.”

  “Safety in numbers. Remember that?” Shooter stepped back and lowered his eyes. “It’s your decision, man. If you say we break loose and head for the hills, I’m with ya.” He looked up and met his gaze. “But if you say we give the Cagers a shot…”

  Sinner stretched his neck and work
ed his good shoulder. “Just grab your shit.”

  Hank and Wally worked by the light of a camping stove, sweat dripping as they worked through the night. Wally dropped the wrench he held and stood up, stretching his back. “I know I ain’t said it, but I appreciate you watching our backs.”

  Trevor nodded absently and leaned against the door of the garage. “Blame your friend there.” He glanced at Hank, feet sticking out of the cab of the dozer. “He thinks we’re all going to be one big, fat, happy family once your people meet Patricia.”

  Wally chuckled and shook his head. “I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes.” He suddenly sobered and glanced to Hank. “Hey, you ever wonder…”

  “What?” Hank asked, his hand patting the area for the socket wrench.

  “All of the Zulus we fought off…” He made a motion toward Patricia sitting in the corner, slowly spinning on a stool. “If maybe some of them were like her?”

  Hank shook his head. “I can’t think that.” He tightened the last bolt then slowly sat up, setting the socket on the floor of the cab. “If I let myself go down that road…”

  “Exactly,” Wally said softly. “But…you know. What if?”

  “Don’t.” Hank pushed himself across the floor of the cab and slid out to plant his feet on the track. “We can’t go down that road.”

  “I know, but I’m just saying, what if?”

  Trevor raised his voice. “If they were screaming and coming at you, you had every right to drop them where they stood.” The look in his eyes told both men that he believed every word. “Patricia, she ain’t like them.” He lowered his voice and turned his gaze back outside. “Neither was her mother.”

  Hank turned and gave him a quizzical stare. “I thought you didn’t know her before all this?”

  Trevor shook his head slowly. “I didn’t.” He swallowed hard and glanced back at Patricia. “I found her in a house. She was holed up with her folks. They were all Ragers…well…infected, anyway.” He lowered his eyes and ground his teeth. “Simon…he…” Trevor’s voice cracked as his mind replayed the events of that night.

  “What happened, bro?” Wally asked, stepping closer.

  “We were raiding houses. We noticed movement; Simon said we had to kill them.” Trevor stood straighter and squared his shoulders. “I found her in her room, hiding.” He glanced back at her. Either she wasn’t listening or didn’t understand his words. “She was so scared. She knew something bad was about to happen.”

  “And?” Hank asked.

  “I covered her with a blanket. Told her to be quiet.” Trevor sniffed back a tear. “Bless her little heart, she did exactly as I told her.”

  “Simon killed her folks?” Wally’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Trevor snorted a derisive laugh. “Hardly. I mean, yeah, he killed them. But not until he had his fun with the mom.” He swallowed hard again, the events threatening to shatter him. “He made me tie the mom up and he…he…” He looked away. “He did things to her that should never happen to anybody.”

  Hank and Wally both stared wide-eyed, their minds not quite comprehending the brutality.

  “When he was done, he shot her in the head. Finally put her out of her misery.” Trevor blew his breath out hard. “The first chance I got, I snuck back upstairs and saved her.” He glanced back at Patricia, who was still slowly spinning on the stool. “We’ve been together since.”

  Hank looked at Wally and saw the big man’s eyes welling with tears. “But she…heard it all, didn’t she.”

  Trevor nodded slowly. “I only pray that her mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening.”

  Hank felt the rage rise within. “I’d love to get my hands on that son of a bitch right about now.”

  Trevor nodded. “Me too.”

  Wally nudged Hank’s shoulder. “I think we’re done here, man.”

  Trevor turned and gave them both a crooked grin. “Just in time. The sun’s about to come up.”

  “I guess we lucked out tonight.” Hank slapped the dirt from his hands. “I’m surprised we weren’t attacked.”

  “Their numbers are thinning,” Trevor stated flatly. “They’re slowly starving.”

  “Why do you say that?” Wally asked.

  “When that Rager cornered us in the shop at the RV dealer? They all looked like skeletons with skin stretched over them.” He glanced to Patricia again. “I don’t know how she got them to stand down, but she did.”

  Hank nodded in appreciation. “She’s pretty special.”

  Trevor turned and clapped his hands at her. She slipped from the barstool and ran into his embrace. “You can say that again.” He looked to the pair as Patricia hugged him. “So if your guy in charge gives me any kind of grief about her, we’re just going to keep going. No looking back.”

  Wally stepped closer and placed a large but gentle hand on the girl’s nearly bald head. “I can’t say that I blame you.”

  Patricia looked up at the large black man and Wally gave her a toothy grin. “We won’t let nobody hurt you. I promise.”

  Neither man could be sure if she understood or was simply parroting their actions, but she smiled back in return.

  Chapter 11

  Hatcher stood at the front gates, his eyes searching the horizon. “Are you sure they didn’t come back without checking in?”

  The sentry shook his head. “We’re keeping that log like Candy said. If they had come back, somebody would have checked off their names.”

  Hatcher sighed heavily, kicking himself for not even knowing which rooms Hank and Wally had taken. He kicked at the stones near his feet and swayed in the early morning chill. “Send somebody to get me if they come back, will ya?”

  “To let you know they’re safe?”

  “To chew their asses for not taking radios.” Hatcher turned and followed the scent of food. He really wanted coffee, but the ladies who worked the cafeteria had a way of making anything taste palatable; it was like magic.

  He grabbed a tray and was scooped out some powdered eggs, now scrambled. A hockey puck that looked like a biscuit was quickly drowned in instant gravy. “Did we bring this from our stores?”

  The portly lady shook her head. “Most of it was already here. We’re saving the good stuff for later.”

  Hatcher grabbed his coffee and took a seat near the entrance. He found himself leaning to the side to peer through the foyer to the main entrance. His stomach was in knots and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat until he knew Hank and Wally’s fate.

  He didn’t notice when Roger sat across from him and set his tray down. “I’ve never been one to do drugs, but I think I could mainline about half a pot of coffee.” He gave Hatcher a crooked smile. When the man failed to respond, Roger tapped the side of his mug. “Earth to Hatcher, come in.”

  Hatcher gave him a confused look. “I’m sorry, man. We got a couple of guys who didn’t come back last night. I’m just worried.”

  Roger took a drink of the coffee and nodded. “Who was it?”

  “Hank and Wally.”

  “Oh yeah. They’re working on that dozer that was left in the field across the way.” Roger grinned broadly. “You should see the crap they added to that thing.”

  Hatcher gave him an open mouthed stare. “You knew where they were?”

  Roger shrugged. “We stopped and talked to Wally on our way back yesterday. We told him to approach only from the front if they were going to be coming in late because of the new IEDs.”

  “Was Hank with him?”

  Roger shook his head. “Not when we stopped by. Apparently they backed the dozer right in front of a speeding RV and it broke an axle or something. Hank took the guy and his daughter to get parts.”

  Hatcher’s eyes widened. “More survivors? And nobody thought to mention this?”

  Roger shrugged. “Wally said the guy was kind of stand off-ish. But Hank felt responsible so he offered to help.” Roger tilted the rest of the cup and sighed. “M
an, that hits the spot.”

  “Talk to me about the guy.”

  Roger shrugged again. “Wally didn’t really say. He just said that the mods they were doing would take a while.” He grinned at him. “They’ve welded spikes to this thing and bars over the windows. I’m telling ya, it looked like something out of Mad Max.”

  Hatcher was to his feet. “I don’t care about the dozer. I’m worried about our people.”

  Roger stood slowly and nodded. “Okay, I’ll take you to where they were.”

  As both men turned for the door the sentry appeared in the foyer. “They’re back.” He shook his head, “And you’re not going to believe that tractor.”

  Hatcher pushed past the people milling about and exited the building, Roger in tow. He stood at the gate and gaped at the spiked monstrosity ambling up the paved road. “You have got to be shitting me…”

  “I told ya. Looks like something from a movie, don’t it?”

  “It might be more effective if it wasn’t so slow.” Hatcher shook his head as he pushed through the chain link gate.

  Wally slowed the machine and killed the engine just outside the entrance. “What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “You stayed out all night to work on…this?”

  Wally nodded then pointed behind them. “And we brought new friends.” His smile quickly faded. “But, uh…you might want to…um, talk to Hank first before you meet them.”

  Hatcher walked to the Class C motorcoach and watched as Hank hopped out of the passenger side. “Sorry we’re late. We had a lot of work to do on the dozer.”

  Hatcher motioned with his chin. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Yeah, about that…” Hank trailed off. “Maybe Vicky could come out here so…”

  Trevor stepped out from behind the driver’s door. “We’ve met.” He gave Hatcher a knowing look and watched as his brows furrowed.

  “We have?” Hatcher stepped closer, his eyes squinting in the early morning sun.

  “I was with the biker group. Me and a few other guys didn’t want nothing more to do with them and left.” Trevor walked around to the front of the RV and allowed Hatcher to study his features.