Return to Yellowstone

by Heath Stallcup

  The others in the room hurriedly went about their work. One was monitoring the creature’s heart rate, another its breathing. The same man with the radar gun continued holding the device close to the creature’s head.

  Dr. LaRue grabbed another, much larger syringe and injected it into a clear bottle. She pulled out a large dose, then nodded to the people on either side of the creature. “Turn him.”

  They lifted the nearly nude figure and turned him to his side. She ran her fingers across the creature’s thigh to nearly his hip, then walked her fingers across. She marked the spot, then plunged the needle deep into the creature’s skin. Jason cringed at the action and noted that the creature barely reacted.

  She slowly injected the milky fluid, then had to tug to remove the needle. “Give me the other.” She held her hand out flat and another person gently placed a smaller syringe into her grip.

  She found the large gluteus muscle and injected the creature with the dose. She stepped back and turned to those monitoring vitals. “Any change?”

  They shook their heads and she let her breath out. “Excellent.” She pulled the mask down and began stripping her surgical gloves. “Get him strapped down in a room where you can monitor him, and make sure there’s a generator running inside. I want blood samples every twelve hours, and those results need to be rushed through the lab, got it?”

  The man holding the radar gun nodded. “Got it.”

  She stepped away as the others began strapping the creature down with heavy leather bindings. She grabbed Jason by the shoulder, and this time he didn’t resist as she walked him out and into the hallway.

  “What was so damned important it couldn’t have waited?”

  Jason stepped back and his shock was easily noted. She had never spoken so sharply with him before and it caught him off guard.

  “I…uh…” He turned away sheepishly. “I don’t remember now.” His voice was barely a whisper and Vivian LaRue had to count to five to get her temper under control.

  “Jason, that could have been a very dangerous procedure.”

  “I was far enough away that I’m sure I could have—”

  “You were a distraction and distractions get people killed.” She stepped directly in front of him and locked eyes. “If you want to risk your life, I can’t stop you. But I will not have you, or anybody else for that matter, putting my people’s lives at risk. Do you understand?”

  Jason nodded and looked away. “Sorry, doc. I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Now you know. If I tell you to leave, it’s not just for your own good.”

  He nodded slightly, then turned his eyes back to the door. “What did you do to it?”

  “Him. Not it.” She cleared her throat. “He’s a guinea pig of sorts.”

  “I figured that much. But…what did you do?”

  “He’s the fourth test. We think we might have a vaccine…but we coupled it with gene therapy. The first subject got just the vaccine. The second got a variant of the same vaccine. The third got just the gene therapy and this subject, he got it all. We gave him the gene therapy and the two variants.”

  “And you’re gonna run with whichever one works?”

  She shrugged off her lab coat and dropped it into the soiled bin. “We’re going to monitor them all and pray that any of them improve.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh, I remember.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and toward the hall. “Bren. She’s not feeling too well.”

  Dr. LaRue’s head snapped up. “Not well, how?”

  Jason shifted from foot to foot and avoided her gaze. “She was throwing up. And she says her stomach was cramping.”

  Dr. LaRue nodded. She pulled another lab coat from the stack of clean linens and snatched a handful of gloves. “Let’s go take a look.”

  Jason turned and began working his way back up the hall. “I guess that makes me a lousy boyfriend…considering that was why I came looking for you.”

  “It makes you human, Jason.” She pulled the coat over her shoulders and fell into step behind him. “That’s more than I can say for our test subjects right about now.”

  Henry pulled the door shut on the truck and slapped at Wally’s arm. “Come on.”

  Wally gave him a confused stare. “Come where? Man, we got a shit-ton of stuff to put away.”

  “It’s unloaded. Let the others stock it.” He pulled Wally aside and lowered his voice. “If we hurry, we can get one more load. I know we can.”

  Wally’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “She’ll flip shit on us, man. Why you always got to be pushing like this?”

  Henry pointed out the door. “There’s a whole warehouse store full of stores. If there really are marauders out there, that’s like giving them a written invitation to move in, settle in, put up defenses, and then stir up shit with us. You know that as well as I do.” He clamped his mouth shut as a trio of workers shuffled by carrying a shopping cart with a broken wheel. Once they were clear, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “The more of that stuff we can grab and bring back here, the less chance of them staying. Maybe they’ll load up on dry goods and bail.”

  Wally was shaking his head slowly. “This isn’t a smart move man. If Candy—”

  “She won’t even know until we’ve gotten back.” Henry pleaded with him. “You know I’m right. We can grab the grand majority of what’s left and be back before they’ve finished putting stuff away.”

  Wally groaned and gave him a sideways look. “How do you always talk me into this stuff?”

  Henry broke into a toothy grin. “Because you know I’m right.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t wanna be there when you ain’t!”

  Henry started the engine and pulled forward while Wally manned the large gates. As the truck drove by and Wally pulled the gate shut, he muttered, “I hope to hell we don’t regret this.”

  Chapter 12

  Hatcher watched as the men worked to remove the logs blocking their way. The winches could barely move the large trunks and they used two Humvees to pull the logs back. One truck was chained to the other and Hatcher shielded his eyes when the large tires spun in the loose dirt.

  He was actually surprised when the logs broke loose and began sliding. He watched as the men tugged, pushed, and rolled the trunks to the side of the trail, and when there was ample room to get the trucks through, they tossed the chains in the rear and prepared to leave. He tried to guess the distance to the hot springs area and wished they had grabbed the topomap from the wall of the Visitor’s Center.

  “What’s wrong?” Hollis asked.

  “I know it hasn’t been that long, but the terrain looks off to me.” Hatcher shook his head as he stared out the open window. “Some things that I think look familiar suddenly aren’t again when I spot something else.

  Hollis grunted. “You wouldn’t think the terrain would change that much.”

  “Exactly.” Hatcher continued to stare, his mind trying to connect the few landmarks that still stood out.

  Hollis slowed the truck again and cursed under his breath when the lead vehicle came to another stop.

  Captain Hollis slammed the door as he departed and muttered epithets as he walked around the lead vehicle. “What is it now…,” his voice trailed off as he stared at the next road block.

  Hatcher appeared at his side and whistled low. “I’m guessing this is where part of that mountain came to rest.” He chuckled to himself. “No wonder nothing looked right.”

  Hollis turned to him. “How much farther?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “A couple miles up that mountain.”

  Hollis groaned as he stared at his watch. “Fine.” He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Alpha and Bravo, grab your gear and let’s get moving. Charlie stays with the trucks and maintain radio contact.”

  Hatcher followed him to the rear of the Humvee and each man grabbed their respective ruck. “We won’t be back before dark.”

  “I’m beginning to realiz
e that.” Hollis shouldered the pack and tighten the cinches. “We’ll just have to do the best we can.”

  “There are other trails that lead to the same area.”

  Hollis shook his head. “Odds are, they’ll all be covered with debris of some type. I can’t risk backtracking this late in the day in the hopes that another route is clear.”

  Hatcher reached for his arm. “Hey. We can bunk in the Visitor’s Center. There’s two access points and minimal windows. It’s defendable.”

  Hollis stared at him. “I have no intention of staying overnight.”

  Hatcher raised a brow and turned toward the mountain. “You may not have a choice. It might be better to hunker down tonight and start fresh in the morning.” Hollis inhaled to retort when Hatcher held a hand up to stop him. “I’m not saying we don’t recon the trails and look for damage while we still have light.”

  “It would take too long and—”

  “If I can get one of the ATV’s running, I can do it. I’ve outrun the infected with them before, I’m sure I can do it again.”

  Hollis shook his head. “Maybe if we’d thought to bring a drone or some other form of aerial surveillance, but going it alone on an ATV? That’s suicide.”

  Hatcher crossed his arms and studied the man. “I know these mountains. Maybe the terrain has been altered, but I still know the trails. Wildlife will take the shortest and easiest route to where they’re going. If I stick to the game trails, I should be able to recon the areas, find the worst of the damage, and be back before you know it.”

  “Too risky.”

  “But it’s not too risky to march us all up the mountain and pray we make it back in the dark?”

  Hollis ground his teeth and pursed his lips. He wanted to come back with a smart-assed remark, but bit his tongue. “What trails do you suggest?”

  “The map is back at the Visitor’s Center. I can point them out to you there.” He motioned back the way they came. “It’s a topomap, so you can get a feel for what we’re up against.”

  “That was before the mountain top was blown off.”

  “True, but the base terrain will still be the same. We’ll just have to maneuver around whatever obstacles were thrown in our way.”

  Hollis pulled his sunglasses away and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stared up the mountain as far as he could see then back the way they had come. “You figure it was debris that felled those trees in the road?”

  Hatcher shook his head. “I think something put them there.”

  Hollis nodded, then pulled the straps from his ruck. “Change of plans. Everybody load up.” He tossed his pack into the back of the truck and gave Hatcher a sideways stare. “We’re going back to the Visitor Center and setting up a command post. It looks like we’ll be tackling this job at first light.” He slammed the cover on the rear of the slant back and twisted the latch.

  “Everybody stay frosty. We might be in for a rough night.”

  Squirrel dropped the kickstand on his bike and slid from the saddle. He ignored Slug as he drove past him and parked closer to the doors of the hotel.

  Squirrel opened the hard bag on the side of his Indian and pulled the small satchel of food he was able to dig up and slung it over his shoulder. “At least we have something more than peaches and hard tack.”

  Slug ignored him and made his way inside the old hotel. Squirrel watched the man walk away, and for a moment wondered if he’d make his move if Squirrel didn’t offer up some of the grub. It would be fitting to kill him over something that trivial, but people like Slug really didn’t need a reason to be shot. They needed killing.

  Squirrel had just slipped under the shadow of the front Ramada when he heard the muffled report of gunshots coming from within the hotel. He dropped the satchel and sprinted to the front doors, using the edge as cover while he peered into the gloomy interior.

  Slug tried to run out of the lobby and slipped on the loose sand covering the floor. He slid into the adjacent wall, and as he scrambled to come to his feet, one of the crazies launched himself from the hallway and bit down hard on the man’s calf.

  Squirrel shuddered at the scream and leveled his pistol on the creature tearing chunks of flesh from Slug’s leg. He pulled the trigger and watched as blood and gore sprayed the wall behind the screaming biker. His eyes scanned the area and came back to Slug trying to get to his feet again, his ruined leg slipping in his own blood as he tried to regain his footing.

  “Don’t you fucking shoot me, man! Don’t you fucking do it!” he screamed through clenched teeth. He placed his hand along the wall and fought to get his feet back under him. He was panting and had broken into a cold sweat. Squirrel knew it wouldn’t be long.

  Slug turned and pressed his back to the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Sumbitch was waiting for me in the hallway.”

  Squirrel watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his free hand running down the length of his thigh and squeezing just short of the bite on his calf. “Goddammit…this is not how I was supposed to go out.”

  Squirrel stepped into the dim light of the lobby and stared at the man slowly slipping down the wall and back to the floor. “Exactly how were you supposed to go out?”

  Slug laughed and spat between his legs. “I was supposed to be shot to death, man. At the ripe old age of a hundred…by a twenty-one-year-old jealous husband.”

  He laughed at his own joke and ended up coughing. He breathed heavily as he tried to catch his wind again and slowly opened his eyes.

  “You will be shot to death.” Squirrel pointed the barrel at his forehead and stared into his eyes as they slowly filled with blood. “But I ain’t no jealous husband.”

  “What the fuck, man?”

  Squirrel didn’t turn to see his compatriots as they entered the lobby. He kept his eyes on Slug and waited for him to turn completely.

  “Don’t let this cocksucker shoot me, man!” Slug yelled. “I got attacked, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna….” He trailed off and shook his head slowly. “Don’t mean I’m…gonna…fuck me, my head hurts.” Squirrel watched him pinch his eyes shut, his jaw clenched.

  “Somebody get me some aspirin, man. My head is killing me…”

  Squirrel took a half-step forward and the men standing behind him took a step back. They knew what was about to happen and they didn’t want to be close if the larger man missed.

  Slug opened his eyes and glared at the group. He opened his mouth and a harsh scream erupted from his throat that all of them were too familiar with.

  Squirrel pulled the trigger just as the man jerked and tried to launch himself from a sitting position. He fell at their feet, his brain hanging loosely from the hole in the back of his head.

  Squirrel holstered his weapon and turned to the other two. “Strip him of any usable weapons and if you need parts from his bike, you’d better hurry before the sun sets.”

  He turned and walked toward the stairwell. His room still had water in the tank and he felt the need to clean up before he fell asleep.

  Dr. LaRue pulled the thermometer from Bren’s forehead and read the digital display. “Looks like a low-grade fever.” She lifted the girl’s wrist and monitored her pulse. “Have you eaten anything that didn’t sit right with you or…?”

  Bren shook her head. “No, ma’am. I just started feeling shaky, like when you haven’t eaten in a long time. I snacked on some crackers and some tea.”

  “Well, it appears you may have an infection. It could be anything. An ear infection, strep throat…heck, it could even be chicken pox.” She stripped the sterile gloves from her hands and dug through her leather bag. “Here are some general antibiotics. It’s just a Z pack, so take two tonight and one a day until they’re all gone. If this doesn’t clear it up, then it’s probably viral.”

  Jason’s head popped up and he stared at her wild-eyed. “Wait…did you say virus? Like—”

  Vivian held her hand up. “When it comes to bugs that make us sick, they
’re either bacterial or viral. Antibiotics will help with bacteria, but they don’t work on viruses.”

  “But does that mean she might be starting to get sick from the virus? Or…maybe one of the mutated strains you talked about?”

  She shook her head. “Her eyes are still clear. She doesn’t display any of the other symptoms that the infected have, so my best guess is absolutely not.” She patted the young man’s hand to reassure him. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “But it could be something, right?” He sounded desperate.

  “Jason, stop it.” Bren pulled the covers up closer to her neck and leaned back on her bunk. “It’s probably some silly bug.”

  “More than likely it’s something common.” Vivian closed her bag and gave him a reassuring smile. “Remember, you two were on your own for a very long time. People actually catch the majority of their illnesses from being around other people. They get sick and infect the area with their germs. Once they are over the bug, they have a natural immunity to it, but the germs are still there. Now that you are back around other people, odds are, you’ll both suffer from a few different bugs we’ve had here on the ship.” She stood and reached for the door. “I recommend lots of fluids and rest. Call me if anything changes.”

  Jason pushed the door shut behind her and turned to Bren. “I saw what they were doing.”

  Bren nodded and closed her eyes. “Working on a cure?”

  “They were testing your blood on the crazies.” He swallowed hard and waited for her response. She nodded absently and leaned her head farther into her pillow. “Didn’t you hear me? They were using the infected as guinea pigs.”

  Bren slowly opened her eyes and stared at him. “So?”

  “So?!” He sat down and stared at her expectantly. “What do you mean, so?”

  “Jason, I don’t care if they hang them all off the edge of the ship and set them on fire, not if it helps to find a cure.”

  Jason didn’t realize his mouth was open until he felt his jaw moving and no words came out. “I can’t believe you would say that.”