Caldera Book 6: New World Order

by Stallcup, Heath

  He opened the can and gave it to her. She sniffed at it then tilted it back, sucking the watered down chunks of fish from the tin.

  “So I have this plan. We grab us an RV. They have cabinets and storage places that we can stuff with as much food and water as we can find in here. Then we siphon some gas and we hit the road. Find us a place that’s in the middle of nowhere.” He wiped the stream of fish juice from her mouth then opened a can of sardines. “Here. These are packed in oil, so try not to get it on your…” He trailed off as she tilted the can back and sucked the fish into her mouth, “…clothes.”

  He watched her lick the can clean then drop it to the floor. “I wonder what you’ll be eating like when you hit the teen years.” He shook his head and pulled out a plastic package of orange crackers. “Cheese and peanut butter. Knock yourself out, kid.”

  She ate while he explained. “Once we pick out a rolling home away from home, we can find you some more clothes and maybe shoes that you can grow into. And we’ll find you some toys. Kids like toys.” He gave her another smile. “It may be a whole new concept to you, but…”

  Trevor leaned forward and glanced out the window. “Okay, Peanut. The sun is low enough that we can go now.” He picked her up from the checkout counter and she gripped his hand as they made their way to the door.

  He pushed the glass door open for her and she stepped out into the darkening evening. Then he took the lead and she fell into step behind him. “You’re gonna love living on the road.” He gave her a smile and she tried to smile back, orange bits stuck in her teeth.

  He nodded. “Guess we ought to find you a toothbrush, too. Something tells me you’d probably eat the dentist…if we could find one.”

  Chapter 23

  Hatcher sat back in his chair, his eyelids drooping heavily. His head bobbed, snapping him awake again.

  “Go to bed, Daniel.” Vicky stepped in and pointed down the hall.

  “I got stuff to do still. I need to make sure the sentries are—”

  “Roger is taking care of it as we speak.” She stepped forward and reached for his hand. “You’re practically a zombie stumbling around in here. You need your beauty sleep.”

  He cracked a grin. “You saying I’m ugly?”

  She nodded. “You can be sometimes. But right now you’re so tired you can’t stand up. Go to bed.”

  He stretched and yawned then looked down at her. “I really should make sure the sentries are in place. We have a lot of new stuff going on and…”

  She pointed down the hall. “Roger has two men in the watch tower and two more men on the wall. We’re good. The rest of the security forces are on standby.” She handed him a small radio. “Roger picked these up at a farm supply. They’re two way radios but they’re all on the same frequency.”

  Hatcher looked at the black walkie-talkie and smiled. “It’s so light.”

  “But it has like a thirty-mile range.” She pushed him toward the door. “This one is fully charged and turned on. If we see anything, you’ll hear about it. Now go to bed.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “If they call over this little thing, I’d never hear it to wake up.”

  Vicky snorted and reached for the radio and cupped it in her hand. “Give me a test of the warning system.” She held the radio out and the screech that came through it snapped Daniel’s eyes open.

  “Holy cow. What was that?”

  She pointed to the red button on the side. “Mash this and the talk button and it sends out the siren or… alarm. Whatever you want to call it.”

  Hatcher took the radio back and studied it. “How many of these do we have?”

  “It was an eight pack. One for each of the sentries, one for you, one for Roger, one for Candy.” She gave him a smirk. “Now please, go to bed.”

  Hatcher nodded and stuffed the radio into his pocket. “Copy that.” He stepped toward the door then turned on her. “But first, how did your dinner date with Coop go?”

  She smiled knowingly. “He’s waiting in the cafeteria for me right now. As soon as you’re all tucked in, I can go and meet him.”

  “Well,” he raised his hands in surrender, “never let it be said that I came between my sister and romance.” He stepped into the hallway and took a few more steps. “Although, I have no idea what you see in him.”

  “He’s kind.” She pointed down the hallway. “And in his own way, he reminds me of dad.”

  Hatcher paused and gave her a sidelong look. “You know what Freud might say about that statement…”

  She shook her head. “If he wasn’t already dead, he’d be a Zulu and nobody would care what he said.” She pointed down the hall again. “Don’t make me beat your ass all the way to the door.”

  Hatcher held his hands up again. “I’m going! Jeez, don’t turn into mom.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’ll show you ‘mom’…” She watched as he turned the handle and stepped into his room. He didn’t flip on the light before he shut the door and she could only imagine he fell into bed.

  “Good night baby brother. Don’t let the Zulus bite.”

  “You guys aren’t going to use the entire incubator are you?” Kevin asked as he reached for the door. “I mean, surely I can slip a few samples in there, right?”

  Carol looked at Broussard who shrugged. “We’re not certain what temperature we’ll need yet.”

  Kevin nodded. “That’s fine. This model’s a tri-zone. I’ll set the lower zone for normal body temperature and the middle to the elevated average temperature of the infected.” He nodded to Broussard. “Is that acceptable?”

  Broussard nodded. “Be my guest. Just please leave enough room for our own cultures.”

  Kevin smiled and slipped the petri dishes into the machine. He sealed the door and stood back. He could see his own reflection in the glass; he ran a hand through his hair quickly. “Now all I have to do is wait.”

  He tugged off his lab coat and hung it near the door. “I’m hitting the mess decks before they clear them. You guys gonna eat?”

  Broussard looked to Carol who simply shrugged. “I could stand to. You?” Broussard nodded and set his reagents aside. “After you.”

  The trio made their way to the mess and fell into line with the men who had just come off watch. They made their selections from the limited offerings then found a table.

  “So, would you mind explaining your plan to me?” Kevin asked as he shoveled a large spork full of food into his mouth.

  Broussard picked at the gray food then pushed it side. “We intend to rewrite the genetic code of the virus and use it to infect a strain of strep bacteria. Then we can let it loose on the mainland and in a matter of days, the infected should be asymptomatic.”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. “You really think that’s going to work?”

  Broussard nodded then pulled his tray close again. He stuck the spork into what looked like a chicken pot pie casserole and sniffed it. “It should work, in theory.”

  Kevin took a sip of the watered down orange drink that the sailors called bug juice and eyed him carefully. “How will you test it?”

  Broussard shrugged. “I wish we had test subjects, but…” his voice trailed off.

  “Dontcha think you should test it before you just release another version of the virus out into the world?”

  “Technically, it’s not a virus.” Carol corrected.

  “Right…it just nullifies the existing virus by using bacteria as a delivery system, got it.” Kevin shoved another sporkful into his mouth. “But you should still test it first, right?”

  Broussard nodded. “We should. I just have no idea how to do that under current circumstances.”

  Kevin tilted the plastic cup up and drained the bug juice. He belched loudly and set the cup down. “Judging by the sunny disposition of the people in charge here, I doubt seriously they’ll let you bring another infected person aboard ship. The risk is too high.”

  Broussard nodded. “Agreed. The risk is too hig
h.” He took a tentative bit of the food then reached for the salt. “However, there are other ways to test the CRISPR modified code.”

  Kevin leaned forward. “Like how?”

  Carol interjected before Broussard could respond. “Like maybe we have them deliver the payload to a limited area. Then we monitor the infected and observe the effects.”

  Kevin shook his head. “And if your treatment makes things worse? Then what?”

  Broussard set his spork down and gave him a serious look. “Then they sanitize the area and we start over.”

  “Sanitize?”

  “Burn it,” Carol stated as she sporked a chunk of chicken. “All of it.”

  Kevin leaned back and shook his head. “We need a media that we can test here, without risking the rest of the world.”

  Carol raised a brow at him. “Are you volunteering?”

  “Hell no!” Kevin came to his feet. “Don’t even joke about that.” He picked up his tray and gave her a sly grin. “Too bad we don’t have living tissue samples of the infected. We could test them in the incubator.”

  Broussard looked to Carol and gave her a knowing look. “How long would it take to get living cultures growing in media?”

  She shook her head. “Depended on how large the donor sample was.”

  “Speak to your yeoman friend. Perhaps he can find us a volunteer.” He smiled at her knowingly.

  Carol nodded. “As soon as we’re done eating, I’ll do just that.”

  Broussard turned and nodded to Kevin. “Apparently you aren’t as useless as I originally thought.”

  “Thank y—” Kevin stammered for a moment. “Wait…what?”

  “Relax, Dr. McAlester.” Broussard lifted his glass to him in salute. “I was only teasing.”

  “Ah.” Kevin turned from them and set his tray in the window by the door. “Yeah, some joke.”

  As Kevin stepped out of the mess decks, Broussard turned his attention back to Carol. “It’s either grow tissue in media or we find an unwitting specimen.”

  Carol shrugged. “Or we do both.” She shoved the chicken chunk into her mouth and gave him a smile. “Maybe Dr. McAlester can be more helpful to us than he knows.”

  Simon slammed the door behind him and went to the window. “Tell me we lost them.”

  Shooter nodded. “Pretty sure we did.” He fell onto the loveseat and blew his breath out hard. “But if that stupid car were any louder, I’m sure they would have figured out where we’re staying.”

  Simon pushed past Sinner and Shooter and sat down quietly on the couch. “Stupid Ragers are every fucking where once the sun goes down.”

  Sinner sat up in the chair and gave him a questioning look. “So? What’s the verdict on the light show?”

  Simon smiled. “It’s an old folks home. There’s kids there and…” he trailed off. He tilted his head as his mind tried to connect dots through the haze of alcohol. “Tell me something. Did any of those kids look familiar to you?”

  Shooter shrugged. “A kid is a kid, man. What do I care?”

  “I mean, did you recognize any of them?” He scooted to the edge of the cushion and a slow smile began to form. “I ain’t positive, but I think some of them might have been my kids.”

  Sinner raised a brow. “You got kids?”

  “No mine mine, but…mine. Part of our group.”

  Shooter shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. All kids look alike to me. Little ankle biters…”

  Sinner lowered the footrest on the chair and eyed Simon. “You think that’s where the Cagers ran off to?”

  Simon nodded. “Makes sense. They’re still close by but far enough away that you wouldn’t just stumble on them.” He tapped at his chin then came to his feet. “I need a bottle so I can think.”

  Sinner groaned as Simon marched past him and out into the garage. He reappeared a moment later swinging a bottle of cheap Scotch. “I’m getting low, boys. We’re gonna have to do some shopping pretty quick.”

  “Oh, of course.” Sinner moaned. “Fuck the fact that we’re almost out of food, we need to find booze for Simon so he can keep his buzz going.”

  Simon kicked his boot as he walked by. “Trust me, the hooch is the only thing that keeps me from killing everybody.”

  “Fine. We find your hooch.” Sinner watched as Simon cracked open the bottle. “Until then, what’s the plan with the Cagers?”

  Simon took a long pull then set the bottle down. “Shooter came up with an idea to deal with them.” He nodded to the smaller man. “Tell him.”

  “Okay.” He sat forward and wiped his face with his hands. “So, they have this big wall all around the place. Security cameras and the like. Outside of that, they’ve put up this big chain link fence.”

  “What is it with those people and chain link fences?” Sinner asked.

  Shooter shrugged. “Either way, they’d work pretty good at keeping Ragers away.” He grinned at the bigger man. “But not humans with the knowhow to defeat those fences.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “So we went and checked out some equipment on our way back.” He glanced at Simon and watched as the man tilted the bottle back again. “Bulldozers.”

  Sinner’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Bulldozers?”

  Shooter nodded. “Oh hell yeah. They’ll knock that chain link down without breaking a sweat and that ugly adobe wall? One good hit and the thing should crumble.”

  “Then what?” Sinner asked.

  Shooter opened his mouth then quickly shut it. He looked at Simon. “I don’t know. Then what, boss?”

  “Then we take what’s ours.” He screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it on the coffee table. “We take it all.”

  Trevor felt his feet throbbing and his knees were beginning to ache from walking so far on pavement. He stopped and bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and taking a few long, deep breaths. He stood back up and stared down the road; he felt a jolt of energy when he spotted the giant “Aloha Baby” sign in the dim moonlight.

  “We’re almost there. Come on, Patty.” He tugged at her arm and she fell into step with him once more. He had to pull her along as he trotted up to the line of bright white trailers parked alongside the road. “We need something with an engine. Driving your house is just easier than towing it behind you.”

  He pushed past the line of smaller trailers and walked toward the rear of the lot. He could see lines of larger fifth-wheelers and between them, he spotted what looked like a bus. He pushed past the line of fifth wheels and paused in awe as the grandness of the huge Class A motorhomes came into view.

  He blew out a low whistle and shook his head as he ran a hand down the smooth fiberglass body of the bus. “Now this is style.” He turned and gave her a sad smile. “Not that I could operate something like this. Besides, we might have to drive around traffic jams and stuff. We want something just a bit smaller that can get in and out of places.”

  He walked down the long line of very expensive RVs and paused when a group of smaller ones came into view. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  He approached the row of mini RVs and glanced down the line. “Not exactly what you’d call a huge selection, eh?” He looked back at the collection of buses. “I guess they’d rather sell a handful of two hundred thousand dollar vehicles than a bunch of cheaper ones.”

  He walked along the short row of RVs and stopped at one that caught his eye. “Let’s take a look at this.” He patted the hood. “See that bow tie? That means it started life as a Chevrolet.” He bent low and whispered to her, “That means quality.”

  He stepped alongside and reached for the door handle. “Son of a bitch. Locked.” He stared at the RV and continued to mutter under his breath. “Maybe they got the keys locked up inside?”

  He walked the perimeter of the camper and found a small tag attached to the inside of the windshield. “Okay Patricia, memorize these numbers…” He looked at her and smiled. “Just kiddin’.” He tried to commit the st
ock number to memory then turned for the office.

  “Come on darlin’. We’re about to be mobile home owners.”

  Chapter 24

  Hatcher’s eyes popped open with a start and he scrambled for the radio. He turned the volume all the way up and listened, his heart pounding in his ears. He held his breath, listening for sounds of an attack.

  He rolled off of the bed and fell to the floor, the radio clutched in his hand. He leaned back against the bed frame and tried to catch his breath.

  “It was a dream.” He wiped the sweat from his face and smeared his hand across his jeans. “Just a dream…”

  Hatcher came to his feet and padded across the small efficiency apartment. He stuck his head under the faucet and flipped on the cold water. He sucked at the tap then slipped his head under the stream, rinsing the sweat from his hair. When he stood upright he felt the water run down his back, waking him fully. He pulled out the small chair at the dinette and tugged his boots on. A quick glance at the window told him that the sun had been up for a while.

  He tugged his shirt off and pulled another from the top drawer of the dresser. It felt tight as he pulled it on over his dampened shoulders, but he tugged it down and stretched his arms through the fabric until it fit well enough.

  He grabbed the radio and clipped it to his belt then holstered his pistol. “No time like the present.”

  He walked down the hallway toward his office, his mind trying to accept the sounds of normalcy after the intense nightmare. He pushed open the door to his office and glanced at the monitors. People milled about in the courtyard; he could see the sentries manning their posts.

  Hatcher flipped on the coffeemaker and fell into his chair. Images from his nightmare flashed in his mind and he cradled his head in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of thousands of Zulus racing toward their new home forced them open.

  He sat back in his chair and allowed the shiver to run up his spine. The dream was so vivid. He could feel the ground tremble under their advancing feet. He could hear the screams of the women in the compound and he could taste the fear that hung in the air as the horde raced toward them.