Caldera Book 6: New World Order

by Stallcup, Heath

  “Don’t keep that shit to yourself. Spill it.”

  Shooter grinned wider. “I don’t suppose you know how to operate heavy machinery, do you?”

  Trevor made sure that Patricia was sleeping before he slipped out of the office and made his way across the interior of the grocery store. He stood just inside the glass wall and stared out across the parking lot.

  “I can’t keep doing this to her. She needs something more stable.” He sniffed back tears that were threatening, wiped at his eyes, and continued to stare across the expanse of pavement.

  “I need to think of something, find someplace that she can consider home. Something that…” He turned slowly and peered back toward the office. He then spun back and stared at the empty parking lot. “Something that we can haul off all this food in. A set up where she can sleep during the day.” A smile began to cross his face. “A place that would be familiar no matter where we were.”

  Trevor tried not to laugh as the perfect solution popped into his head. He nodded to himself as he turned back toward the office. “We need to go shopping for an RV.”

  He slipped quietly back into the office and pulled the top drawer open on the desk, rifled through it, but found nothing. He quietly pulled out the side drawer and breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled out the telephone book.

  He turned the light up on the lantern he had burning on the desk and flipped through the yellow pages. “This sounds like a fun place. ‘Aloha Baby’.” He ran his finger along the ad and noted the address. “It won’t be an easy walk, but I bet we could find this place.”

  He leaned back in his seat and began to build his perfect solution. Maybe a small one. The kind that has the front end from a pickup or a van. Definitely needs a bathroom…“Generator would be nice,” he sighed.

  He turned and smiled at her. “Maybe they got ‘em with tent walls that slide out to make the insides feel bigger?” He nodded to her sleeping form. “And a comfortable bed so you won’t have to sleep on any more dirty couches.”

  Trevor rocked in the office chair and tried to imagine loading the RV up with as much food as they could carry out of the grocery store, stocking up on essentials like water and maybe some luxuries, like real toilet paper.

  He suddenly sat up. “How will we keep the others out?” He tried to imagine the many ways that a person could stop a moving vehicle. If they were crazy, like the infected, they would launch themselves at the front or against the windows.

  He nodded to himself as he reached for a pen. “Bars on the windows. Maybe a grille guard on the front…or one of those cow catchers like they have on trains.” He nodded as he sketched out his ideas.

  He turned and gave Patricia’s sleeping form a smile. “I’ll give you a home, Peanut. Even if it kills me, I’ll keep you safe.”

  Chapter 22

  Hatcher stretched and yawned, the previous night’s sleeplessness catching up with him. He sipped at his fourth…or was it the fifth, cup of coffee. He stood in the arched recess of the main building while Hank drove a lift in through the rear gate.

  “What the heck is that for?” he asked nobody in particular.

  Candy startled him when she responded. “They found that when they picked up the greenhouse this morning. Roger thought it would make completing the watch tower easier.”

  Hatcher nodded, seeing the logic. “We could have people standing watch up there this afternoon.” He smiled to himself as he began to feel somewhat safer. “Maybe I’ve been worrying for nothing.”

  “Ya think?” Candy shot at him as she stepped into the courtyard. “Imagine that.” The smirk she gave him made him really want to flip her the bird, however, the gentleman in him won the battle and his middle finger remained politely curled around his coffee cup.

  He watched as Candy helped wrap a thick nylon strap under the “fort.” Hank pulled a lever and the boom extended. Another lever brought the wooden structure up off of the ground, and a few moments later, the entire wooden play fort swung in the wind above the heavy wooden struts designed to support it.

  Will directed Hank as he drove the unit into place while men shimmied up the wooden supports with ratchets. They quickly attached steel braces under the fort then bolted steel plates to the thick wooden legs.

  When they finally allowed slack in the strap and the nylon sling was removed, Hatcher was surprised as the men broke into loud applause. Their joyous outburst was catchy as others stepped outside to witness their accomplishment, laughing and giving high-fives.

  Hatcher hated to admit it, but even he felt a sense of accomplishment. He watched the crowd thicken as people stepped into the midday sun to witness their newest structural addition to the compound they now called home. The children seemed upset at first, then quickly began to climb the wooden ladder leading to the high rise fort.

  Hatcher stepped out from the arched veranda to tell them to come down but Will was already climbing the ladder, pointing out the surrounding area to them. Hatcher stepped back into the shadows and watched as the engineer showed them the world in a way they hadn’t ever seen it. He decided it best to keep back and let the scene play out.

  “Pretty nice, huh?” Vicky said as she slipped in behind him.

  “They did good.” Hatcher poured out the cold remains of his coffee then crossed his arms, leaning against the cool adobe wall.

  “You think you might sleep some tonight?” She raised a brow at him.

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “Some.” He gave her a smirk, “Who ratted me out?”

  Vicky tried not to smile at him. “A gray-headed old codger brought me a flower this morning.”

  “Imagine that.”

  Vicky nodded. “He was nice enough. He invited me to breakfast.”

  “I hope you let him down easy.” Hatcher almost felt sorry for Coop.

  “Let him down?” She gave him a wicked smile. “We’re having supper together tonight, too.” She shot him a wink as she turned and went back inside.

  Hatcher stared at her open mouthed then shook his head. “Good for you, Coop; you sly old dog.”

  Carol stood to the side as men in uniform carried in piece after piece of equipment. She waited nervously until one man brought in a reinforced metal container. “This one is labeled ‘reagents.’ Where do you want it?”

  She pointed to the far corner. “Just out of the way over there.”

  “What is CRISPR?” another sailor asked.

  Broussard bounded forward. “Here! I’ll take that one.”

  Carol appeared by his side. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

  Broussard chuckled. “C’est mostly enzymes and reagents.” He set the case on the table and opened it, a smile forming as he looked through the sealed tubes. “This is perfect. We can use streptococcus pyogenes just like Dr. Charpentier did.” He turned and gave her a brilliant smile.

  “I have no idea where they found this stuff and I don’t care.” Carol beamed. She stood up suddenly. “Please, set the centrifuges along this wall. The thermocycler over there.” She nearly jumped up and down. “It’s like Christmas. This is really happening isn’t it?”

  Broussard nodded. “By this evening we can be elbows deep in genetic splicing.”

  Carol reached out and helped a man carrying the autoclave. “This is too large to handle on your own.” She grunted as they lifted it to the counter, “Thank you.” She patted the man’s arm as he walked out. “All we need now is the primordial virus.”

  “Actually, we need a bit more than that.” Broussard sighed heavily as he leaned against the counter. “We have to rewrite the genetics of the primordial, infect S. pygenes, and then find a way to deliver it to the masses.”

  Carol gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”

  Broussard held a finger up, keeping her at bay until the last of the men left the lab. “CRISPR was designed to rewrite genetics using bacteria. The virus infects the bacterium, then we rewrite the genetic code using Cas9, a specific enzyme used ju
st for CRISPR.”

  “So we’re not actually rewriting the primordial virus itself?”

  Broussard shook his head. “Far too difficult. Consider that the virus is basically just DNA or RNA plus a physical delivery method which injects it into a living cell. Once the foreign DNA interacts with the organism’s primary DNA, infection occurs.” He exhaled loudly. “We have to use all of the variants that we know of, rewrite the codes that are common to all of them, and then use that genetic information to infect a bacteria which can then be used to infect a person.”

  “But that won’t neuter the virus…” she shook her head at him.

  “No, but we will be neutering the future effect of the virus by introducing this to the host. Think of it as an inoculation against future infections.”

  Carol sat down hard. “This sounds even less hopeful that rewriting the original virus.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Trust me. If we can use this method to cure cancers and treat blindness, we can use it to short-out this virus.”

  Carol nodded slowly as she came to her feet. “You’re the lead on this. Where do we start?”

  Simon stared at the giant yellow monstrosity. “Could you drive that thing?”

  Shooter shook his head. “It can’t be too hard. Have you seen the people that operate this stuff?”

  Simon groaned. “I never thought I’d ever say this, but you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” He sighed heavily then climbed onto the wide metal tracks. He stepped around the numerous levers and fell into the black vinyl seat.

  “How do you start it?”

  Shooter shrugged. “Turn the key?”

  Simon searched and came up empty. “Can they be hotwired?”

  Shooter snapped his fingers. “I bet they kept the keys inside so folks couldn’t steal them.”

  “How the hell do you steal a bulldozer?”

  Shooter grinned. “By turning the key.” He held a finger up. “Be right back.”

  Simon groaned and leaned back in the seat. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the small pint bottle of hooch, unscrewed the cap and tilted it back, draining the remains.

  He tossed the bottle aside and watched as Shooter came jogging back. “I found some. Can’t be sure what key goes to what, though.”

  He climbed aboard the dozer and handed the keys to Simon. “C-1134? C-1135? What the hell is this?” He held the tags up.

  Shooter looked around the bulldozer and found black numbers stenciled in spray paint on the back. “Look for D-887.”

  Simon sifted through the keys and held up a red one; he slipped it into the key slot and turned it. A loud buzzer sounded and he jumped. “What the hell is that?” he yelled.

  “Turn it all the way over.” Shooter pointed to the red plastic key and Simon reached for it again. He turned it farther to the right and the diesel engine roared to life.

  “Nice.” He looked to Shooter. “Now what?”

  Shooter shrugged. “We figure out how to work it.” He climbed up into the cab with Simon and looked around. “This says F-N-R, so I’m guessing that’s forward, neutral, and reverse.” His eyes scanned the rest of the buttons, switches and levers. “I have no idea about the rest.”

  Simon sighed heavily and shook his head. “I’m not stoned enough for this shit.” He patted his pockets and wished he had more of Sinner’s Lortabs.

  “Just play with it, man. Surely it’s a quick learning curve.”

  Simon leaned forward and tapped the fuel gage. “Says it’s nearly full.” He sat back. “I could sit here all day pulling levers and pushing buttons. That ain’t gonna help me learn to drive the damned thing.”

  Shooter gave him a quizzical look. “Unless you know somebody to call, it’s our best option.”

  Simon hung his head. “Why can’t we use a semi truck? Surely that could do the same thing and I think I could drive one. It has a clutch and gears and a gas pedal.”

  Shooter shook his head. “You saw how thick that wall was. Semi might crack it, but you need something like this to knock it down.” He pointed to the broad blade across the front. “And that thing right there is your bullet proof shield while you’re doing it.”

  Simon nodded slowly. “Fine” He pushed Shooter aside. “We’re burning daylight. Let’s figure this bitch out. If it takes us all day then we go knocking tomorrow.”

  Trevor rolled over in the recliner and jerked awake. He glanced around the room; it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the pale light of the LED lantern. He had to gather his bearings to realize where he was.

  He lowered the foot rest on the chair and leaned forward, turning towards the couch where Patricia was still sleeping. He came to his feet and stepped over to the desk. He glanced down at his list and picked up the paper. “As soon as it’s dark we can—”

  He froze when he heard the sound; it took him a moment to realize it was Patricia climbing off of the couch. He let the breath out he had been holding and turned to face her. “I found us a…what’s wrong?”

  Her face was twisted as if in pain and Trevor felt a spike of fear as she nearly doubled over. “Peanut, talk to me! What’s wrong?”

  She slapped his hands away and began tugging at the electrical cord around her waist. He reached in and quickly untied the plastic coated copper wire, thinking that it was somehow hurting her.

  She quickly jerked her pants down and squatted in the floor. Before Trevor’s mind could register what was happening, her bowels blew black liquid across the small office.

  When the stench hit Trevor’s nose he gagged and nearly threw up. “Oh, my go…urk…oh, my god!” He turned and stepped out of the office, the smell permeating his clothes.

  He felt his mouth watering in preparation for the evacuation of his stomach contents. “Holy Jeezus…I really think something died inside you.” He gagged again and before he could force it down, the remnants of their meal shot up and out in a spray.

  Trevor bent over deeply and splattered the linoleum floor with stomach acid and partially digested food. He gagged again then spit, doing his best to clear his mouth of the pungent burn.

  Patricia appeared next to him, tugging at her pants. “No, wait!” He held a hand up, stopping her. “You gotta clean your ass or…or…” He turned again and spewed more of his stomach contents onto the floor.

  His eyes burned and his stomach continued to cramp. “Good lord…that’s worse than a puppy with parvo.” He tried to breathe through his mouth as he reached back into the office and pulled his pack from the desk, being careful not to even look at the black spray that painted the floor and part of the rear wall.

  He pulled out a plastic bag of baby wipes and tugged out a small handful. “I save these for cleaning up when there’s no water, but…urk…” He looked away and handed her the wipes. “Go. Clean yourself up.”

  She stared at the wet papers in her hands then turned and stared at him blankly. Trevor spit again and did a quick farmer’s blow to clear his nostrils. “Dammit, girl! Don’t you remember nothing?”

  He shook his head as he dragged her farther from both of their messes. In the dim light of the lamp, he guided her hand and tried to teach her how to wipe her butt. He continued to gag as the smell rose up to meet him and he felt bile rising in his throat when he pulled her hand away, the wipe smeared with more of the black liquid.

  “Do you get it now? Clean. Your. Butt.”

  She continued to stare at him, her mind a total blank.

  Trevor sighed heavily and peeled another wipe from the stack. He wadded it up and slipped it into her hand. He guided her hand and went through the motions. A third wipe came back nearly clean so he called it good. “Try to give me a bit more warning next time, okay? I bet even if the toilets in here don’t work, it would be a lot less messy than blowing up the office.”

  He tugged her pants back up and tied the electrical cord snug again to hold them up. He led her down the hallway and away from their messy bodily functions. “Sweet Mary, mother o
f god. That was horrible.” He glanced at her and she stared at him blankly. “Is it always like that with…with your kind? Or is it because you’re eating real food now?”

  He sighed as they reached the front of the grocery store. “Either way, you and me have got to get you housebroken.”

  He lifted her up and set her down gently at one of the registers. “Look, I don’t know if you understand anything I’m telling ya, but you and me? We’re getting the hell out of Dodge. The more I think about the locals and their warehouse, the more I think that they’d just as soon kill you as look at you and I can’t have that.” He wiped the sides of his face with a clean wet wipe and spit on the floor once more, trying to clear his mouth of the acid and bile.

  He wiped her hands clean and tossed the wipes to the floor. “I dunno where they mighta gone, but I can’t risk them not accepting you.” He sat back and sighed. “I think in the back of my mind I was hoping that maybe Donna would want us. You know…be a real family and all.” He shook his head. “I don’t think even a kid could make her want me back.”

  He looked up into her eyes and saw no spark. He wiped a stray hair from her eyes and it fell out in his hand. “Jeezus Patricia…you just keep losing your hair.” He ran his hand over her nearly smooth head and shook the stray hairs off. “Maybe we should find you a wig. You know, to keep your noggin’ warm.” He gave her a lopsided smile and she smiled back. He could tell it was forced, but at least she reciprocated.

  He leaned against the checkout counter and glanced at the empty racks that once held candy and other compulsion-buy products. “What I wouldn’t give for a fresh National Enquirer right about now.” He turned and gave her a wink. “I’m sure they’d blame all of this on either aliens or one of the royals screwing a monkey or some shit.”

  He stretched his back and reached for his pack. “How about a quick bite while the sun goes down? You’ll need your energy while we’re on the road.” He rifled in the bag and pulled out a can of tuna. “I know you weren’t big on the hash. How about some fish?”