“Definitely.” Will pushed his glasses up on his nose then turned to watch as the men installed the last of the solar panels. “We’re waiting on the concrete to set on the fence poles. In the meantime, we’re putting the solar panels into service.”
“Your progress is remarkable.” Hatcher was truly stunned at the pace the workers had set.
“Each man has his own motivating factor.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Most just want it to be over with so they can get on with living.”
Hatcher grunted. “Like there won’t be more work once this is done.” He turned and pointed to the strings laid out for the nursery. “You plan to use one of those arched greenhouses with plastic over it?”
Will nodded, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “To begin with. I hope that we can construct a more permanent structure as time allows.”
“With the hydroponic thing?”
Will shook his head. “No, Mr. Hatcher, that will be a separate entity unto itself.” Will pointed at the far wall. “I’d like to construct it either along that wall or on the other side of it.”
Hatcher’s brows rose. “The other side?”
“We can either extend the wall or…” He left his ideas hanging.
“So you’re already making plans to expand.”
“While the materials are available and we have the manpower, yes.” He pulled Hatcher aside. “I spoke with your sister last evening.”
“Did she give you grief about me moving us so soon?”
Will gave him a confused look. “No…we discussed the creatures. I believe you call them Zulus.”
“What of them?”
“Well, if her hypothesis is correct and they are evolving into creatures of the night, then your plan to mount lights along the wall may also help with the greenhouses.”
Hatcher’s brows rose. “How is that?”
“We discussed using LED grow lights because they emit wavelengths similar to the sun. They would help to keep the Zulus at bay and they could provide the necessary light to help crops grow, especially in the fall and winter months when there is much less sunlight.”
“We just have to track them down.” Hatcher sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “I don’t guess you’d have any ideas where we’d find these ‘grow lights?’”
“Not offhand, but my first guesses would be agricultural supply stores.” Will turned and pointed to two men dragging cabling across the ground. “Lift, gentlemen. We can’t risk damaging the insulation.” He used his arms to indicate a lifting motion. The men hefted the cabling and nodded as they went by.
“You have a real knack with people.” Hatcher watched as the crews continued their labors, not one complaining.
“Mr. Cooper helps too. He’s a salty dog, but he knows how to motivate the men.”
“Dave? The guy with the grizzly grey beard?”
“Not as of this morning.” Will pointed.
Hatcher stared as a clean cut man with overalls directed workers. His beard was trimmed short and his hair was cut and combed.
“You’re kidding me.” Hatcher pointed. “That’s Coop?”
Will nodded. “He said something about a ‘hunt.’ He didn’t explain.”
Hatcher groaned and shook his head. “I better set him straight.”
“Excuse me?”
He blew his breath out hard and glanced at Dave. “He’s got the hots for my sister. Except…she’s probably still mourning her husband, so this is all a wasted effort.”
Will reached out and took Hatcher by the arm. “I’d really appreciate it if you let him learn on his own.” He gave Daniel a knowing look.
“Okay, but…why?”
Will seemed to stiffen a bit and cleared his throat. “As much as I appreciate Mr. Cooper’s help in keeping the men working since his newfound desire to woo your sister…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Let’s just say that his hygiene has improved.” He smiled at Hatcher.
“Oh…I get it.” He stifled a smile. “I take it that there was a peculiar ‘odor’ about him beforehand?”
“A quite strong one.” Will shrugged. “I suppose in the times we live, one can’t really blame another for a lack of…shall we say, attention to detail? However, now that we have an ample supply of water, and for now, plenty of soap, I would appreciate his using them regularly.”
“Understood.” Hatcher gave him a nod. He turned and watched as Coop barked orders and directed the men. He hated to admit it, but the old man really did clean up pretty good.
Carol flipped on the light switch and let loose a low whistle. “Wow. It must be nice to be the captain.”
Kevin pushed past her and stared wide eyed at the new laboratory. “And no glass doors.” He smiled appreciatively.
Dr. Broussard took in the space. “We are still lacking fundamental equipment.”
Carol patted his arm. “Captain said they would send a team of specialists to retrieve what they could from the Kauffman.”
“Who?” Broussard asked as he lifted the plastic covers from the equipment.
“The Kauffman. That was the name of the ship we were on.” Carol huffed as she moved a storage box and slid it under the steel workstation. “Kevin said it was pulled out of mothballs and put back into service for survivors.”
“This ship seems in good service to have been set aside…” Broussard paused and shook his head. “Tell me that they are retrieving everything.”
“Even my experiments?” Kevin frowned. “It may be too late. I needed to log their growth every four hours…”
Carol held her hands up. “I don’t know any more than you two. Captain Proctor said that the specialists would have to ‘clear the ship’ before they could retrieve our things.” She sighed. “I’m sure we can all imagine what that will entail.”
Broussard nodded knowingly. “Vivian will be no more.”
“Along with everyone she infected,” Kevin added.
Carol seemed to brighten. “However, I did convince him that if any of the people that she infected appear asymptomatic, that they should be brought to us for study.” She shrugged. “They could harbor a natural immunity.”
“Ah, yes. You had one such person, oui?”
Carol nodded sadly. “She caught some kind of infection while on board and…I suppose it was just too much for her immune system.” She shrugged. “But LaRue and Carpenter felt it was a non-starter because she was genetically predisposed and…well, they said that they couldn’t use her blood to create a cure.”
Broussard pursed his lips, his mind racing. “A cure, non. But a vaccine? Possibly.”
Carol’s curiosity piqued. “Really?”
“Anything is possible. We will need the data.”
Carol smiled. “We still had samples of her blood frozen in the lab. Would that work?”
“Possibly.” Broussard hefted a large crate and stacked it in the corner. “But first, let us look at the DNA and see what we can see, shall we?”
“Deal.”
Trevor “Stinky” Daniels had worked through the night. He cleaned up the little girl and dressed her. He led her downstairs, carefully avoiding the master bedroom, and placed her on the couch.
“You stay right here, okay? I’m gonna go back and pack us some gear.” He reached out and cupped the girl’s face. “You and me are getting the hell out of Dodge.”
He didn’t know why he did it, but he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He’d realized what he’d done when he pulled back and she stared at him. Her skin had been so warm. Nearly hot to the touch, he thought. Like she had fever.
He backed away slowly. “Stay here, darlin’. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
He jogged back to the house he shared with Simon, Sinner, and Shooter. Simon was already passed-out drunk in the recliner. Shooter was trying to stay awake and keep watch like Sinner used to.
Trevor peeked in on Sinner and found the man wide awake. “How you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He d
idn’t move, but Trevor could see his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
“You should try to sleep.”
Sinner shook his head. “I can’t sleep at night. That’s when they’re most active.”
He nodded and handed Sinner the pillow case of meds he had collected. “These are yours.”
Sinner finally turned and looked at him. “You’re leaving.” It was a statement, not a question.
Trevor nodded. “Yeah.”
Sinner’s eyes turned back to the ceiling. “Can’t say I blame ya.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Shooter told me what Simon pulled.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sinner nodded. “You got gear?”
Trevor nodded. “My bag stays packed.”
Sinner turned and stared at him. “My AR is in the garage. You take it. I don’t care if you have another weapon, you take that rifle.” He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “I won’t be using it for a while and you’ll need it out there.”
Trevor nodded again. “Safety in numbers, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Sinner’s voice was a whisper.
Trevor stepped beside the man and held his hand out. “I’ll miss you; you’re one of the good guys.”
Sinner looked at the man’s hand then grasped it with his own. “I owe you my life. That’s not something I forget easily.”
“We’ll call it even for keeping quiet about…this.”
“Be careful out there.” Sinner turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
“You be careful here. I don’t need to tell you the kind of man he is.”
Trevor patted Sinner’s good shoulder then slipped out of the room. Shooter was asleep at the window, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. Simon snored and smacked his lips in his sleep. Trevor didn’t want to imagine what he may be dreaming.
He slipped into the garage and slung his pack over his shoulder. He found Sinner’s AR and spare magazines. He stuffed the mags into his cargo pants pockets then slung the AR over his other shoulder.
He arrived back at the house and found the child still sitting where he’d left her. He stood in the doorway and motioned to her. “Come on. We’re going.”
To his surprise, she stood and slowly walked to him. He held his hand out to her and she took it, her questioning eyes probing his. “I don’t know where we’re going, but I’m getting you out of here. I couldn’t live with myself if he found you too.”
Through the night the pair walked. When Trevor found a car or truck that looked promising, he’d check for keys. So far, there weren’t any. Car after car, no luck. After half a dozen disappointments, he wished he’d learned how to hotwire back in high school. “They make it look so easy on television,” he whispered. Just rip wire out from under the dash and touch a few ends until the engine turns over.
Yeah, it don’t work that way, he remembered sourly. He’d tried that trick years ago. And, even IF you could rip the wires loose, and IF you could find the right ones, and IF you could get the damned thing to start and stay running…most steering wheels stayed locked without a key.
Damn those Hollywood writers.
To her credit, the little girl kept up with him. She didn’t try to run away, or attack him, though the one time they heard a Rager scream into the night, she clung to him in fear. It was then that he picked her up and carried her.
Trevor put as much distance as he could between them and Simon, but when the first licks of sunlight crested the eastern horizon, the little girl began to whimper. She tugged at the sweatshirt he had put over her t-shirt and whined like a puppy. It took Trevor a few moments to realize that she was either afraid of the sun or it somehow hurt her.
He ducked them under an overpass and they rested while he tried to think of what to do next. He pushed them as deep into the shadows as he could, as high up under the overpass as they could get.
She lay beside him, her head resting in his lap and he rubbed her bony little back while she tried to rest. He had pulled the hoodie up on her sweatshirt and covered her face. He draped his jacket over her and rocked while she rested.
Trevor didn’t know why, but it made him feel better to talk to her. He would talk about whatever came to mind, and the girl seemed to listen, though he couldn’t be certain that she understood anything.
“I must seem crazy to you, huh?” He sighed heavily and rubbed at her shoulders. “Poor kid, stuck out in this whole big world by yourself. I dunno if that was your folks or not, but if it was, I’m real sorry what happened. Nobody should have to deal with…that.”
Trevor’s eyes slowly drooped, fatigue taking him as he rocked her. Still, he spoke aloud. “You know, I didn’t always use to hang with assholes like Simon. I had me a girl once. She wouldn’t marry me, but we was together for like, eight years.” He sniffed back unshed tears as memories he thought he’d forgotten pushed to the surface. “We had us a little girl. She’d be about your age now…if she’d a made it.” He continued to rub her back as he rocked. “She was born with a bad liver. Doctors kept saying that she had jaundice or some such. Then quicker than shit, she died. My girl, Lacey, she didn’t deal with it very well.” He stopped rocking and stared at her little face. “Truth be told, I didn’t either. But pretended to be strong, you know, for Lacey.”
He wiped at his cheeks and gave the child a soft smile. “We named her Patricia. Patty. Or…well, Lacey liked Tricia.” He smiled at her and brushed her cheek. “Would you like to be a Patricia, too? I can’t think of any other girl names that ain’t a whore or a stripper.”
She stared at him, her face stoic.
“Okay, fine. You’re Patty now.” He went back to rocking and rubbing her back. “Years later we had a little boy. She named him after me, Trevor Junior. We called him TJ.” The tears flowed freely as he remembered. “I was out riding with my buddies when I got the call. Lacey had been in a bad accident.” He sniffled and wiped at his face again. “Neither one made it.”
He ground his teeth and clenched his jaw. “But you will. If it kills me, I’m gonna keep you safe.” He looked down at her and smiled, the tears still leaving streaks on his face.
Patricia reached up slowly and touched one of the tears dangling from his chin. She pulled her finger back and stared at the droplet, confusion etched in her tiny features.
“Sorry, Patty. I forget sometimes that I need to be strong.” He sniffled back the tears once more then sat up straight.
He pulled her close to him and she sat up and leaned against his shoulder. Trevor dragged his bag closer and dug inside. “Sorry there ain’t much of a selection. I did get some fruit cocktail.” He held the can up and shook it in front of her. “I loved this shit when I was a kid.”
He pulled the military can opener from his pocket and worked it around the rim of the can. “I know this ain’t human or cat or whatever the hell you’ve been eating, but I promise you, it tastes pretty good and it won’t give you hepatitis.”
He pulled the lid off and shook the can in front of her face. She simply stared at it, then to him. Trevor sighed then scooped some of the fruit out with his fingers. He made a big show of putting it into his mouth and chewing. “Mmm, see? It’s good.” He pushed to can toward her. “Now you try.”
She stared at the can then back to him.
“Okay fine.” He scooped some of the fruit out and held it in his fingers. “Please don’t bite me, Patty. I ain’t ready to lose my hair.” He gave her a goofy smile then rubbed his syrup coated fingers to her lips. “Come on, baby girl, open up.”
He set the can down and gently took her jaw. He pulled her mouth open and slid the fruit into her mouth. He pressed her jaw shut and waited.
Slowly her eyes widened and if she wasn’t chewing, she was mashing the soft fruit around with her tongue. She turned to him, her face frantic.
He handed her the can, a large smile forming. “See? I toldja it was good.”
She reached down and grabbed his
hand. She pulled his fingers to her mouth and sucked the syrup from his fingers. Trevor froze, certain that she was about to chew off a couple of his digits. He nearly fainted when he pulled his hand back and all of his piggies were still intact.
“Okay, kiddo. I’ll feed ya this time.” He pointed at her and she eyed his finger longingly. “But next time, you’re learning how to do this yourself.”
He scooped up two fingers full of fruit and she was ready and waiting, her mouth open like a baby bird. “Good girl.” He slid the fruit into her mouth and she quickly mashed it and swallowed, her mouth open for more.
“See? You’re learning already.”
Chapter 11
Candy pushed her way into Hatcher’s office and dropped the bottle of cheap bourbon on his desk. Hatcher looked at the level then looked at her. “Please tell me you didn’t water it down even more.”
Candy blushed slightly and shook her head. “Well…I didn’t have to get him liquored up to remove his clothes with my teeth.” Her smile widened. “Turns out he’d just lay there and let me do pretty much anything I wanted.”
“I can’t know this.” Hatcher squeezed his fingers into his ears and started repeating “lalalalalalala” while Candy laughed.
She reached across his desk and pulled his finger loose. “Relax Hatcher.” She dropped his hand and sat on the corner of his desk. “But you might want to cut Roger a little slack this morning. I kept him up most of the night.”
“Lalalalalalalalala…”
Candy laughed as she turned for the door, then quickly spun, holding a finger up as though she had something important to say. Hatcher’s gaze narrowed and he pulled a finger loose. “What?”
“I ground him to a NUB!” She laughed deep in her throat as she turned and marched back down the hallway.
“I hate her sometimes,” he muttered.
“Bitches, right?”
Hatcher turned and saw Cooper standing in the Dutch door on the opposite end of his office. “When did you show up?”
“About two lalas ago.” He smiled broadly. “So, speaking of things that make you sing to yourself…”
Caldera Book 6: New World Order Page 9
