Dr. LaRue’s head bobbed up and she stared at Hatcher blankly. She nodded slowly as if coming out of a daze or deep thought. “Oh, the young couple…no. We don’t need them any longer. You can have him back if you want.”
“Him? Will you be keeping the girl, because I don’t think Jason would leave her—”
“The girl died.” LaRue’s voice was void of concern. “She contracted a virus we couldn’t identify, and she passed just prior to my leaving for this operation.”
Hatcher didn’t realize his mouth was open until he tried to speak again. “She’s dead?”
Dr. LaRue nodded. “Yes. It was actually quite sudden.”
Hatcher leaned back and stared into the distance. “I’m sorry, but I would think you would lead with that kind of information.” His eyes bored holes into her, but Vivian was oblivious.
“Why? Was she somebody to you?”
Hatcher ground his teeth and spoke through clenched jaws. “She was my friend. I promised her she would be safe.”
“Oh, yes. And she was. Right up until she contracted whatever it was that killed her. She was perfectly safe.” She waved at him dismissively. “Unless you count that idiot boyfriend of hers. Talk about a waste of space—”
“Come again?” Hatcher leaned forward, his attention completely on LaRue. “What about her boyfriend.”
Dr. LaRue huffed and leaned back in her seat. “The man is a complete and total idiot. He spent more time worrying about whether he might get sick being with her than worrying anything might happen to her. Then, when she did get sick, he acted as though he were relieved.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I was actually surprised he got upset when I told him of her passing.”
Hatcher felt like he’d been punched in the gut. In the safest place imaginable, the girl with the million-dollar immune system dies under the watch of the very same researchers trying to cure the world.
He got her attention again. “You’re saying there was nothing that could be done to save her?”
She gave him the same duh look that Vicky often shot at him. “Of course, there was nothing left untried. We pumped her full of antivirals and antibiotics. There really was nothing else we could do.” She clutched the handle of the aluminum case and gave him a tight-lipped stare. “All we could do was exsanguinate her before her blood coagulated.”
Hatcher found himself with his mouth standing open again.
Simon rolled over and stared at the sky through the canopy of the dying tree. What little shade it provided wasn’t enough to keep the sun from blinding him. He held his hand up to block the rays from burning holes into his eyes and tried to get his feet underneath him.
He found hands grabbing him and lifting him up. He was propped against the bed of the pickup he had puked on and he grabbed the tailgate to try to keep the world from spinning.
“The fuck?” He spun quickly and swung out at the hands holding him up. “Leave me alone.”
“Boss, we got a problem.”
Simon stared at the man speaking, but his drunken mind couldn’t put a name with the face. “Spill it!” He bent over and sucked in air, the ground swirling in front of him.
“Savage split, boss. He just took off.”
Simon stared at him and shook his head. “So?”
“So? You said we was on lockdown.” The man pleaded and realized that Simon couldn’t remember his own orders. “When the guard got kilt?”
“What gurard?”
“Scar, boss!” The man stepped forward and Simon’s eyes lost focus. “You can’t be that drunk.”
“I can be as drunk as I want.” Simon swung at him again causing him to step back. “I’m the king.” He exhaled hard and fell onto his backside behind the truck.
“What do we do about Savage, boss?”
“Fuck him.” His head bobbed as he tried to keep awake.
One of Simon’s regular whores stepped forward and pushed the men back. “Somebody brew some coffee. Find where his bottle is and hide it.” She snapped her fingers at the men. “Chop, chop! Let’s get moving. We gotta get him back on his feet before he can make any command decisions.”
Simon looked up at her and smiled. His hand instinctively reached for her chest and she allowed him a grope as she lifted him from the ground. “Come on, asshole. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“That’s King Asshole to you, wench.” Simon laughed at himself while the small crowd around him dispersed.
“What do we do about Savage?”
She turned and stared at the man. “Didn’t you hear me? We get him dried out and let him make the decision.” She hefted Simon up higher and got another grip around his waist. “Unless you feel like chasing after that walking mountain and trying to force him back here?”
The man’s face paled and he quickly shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll wait for Simon.”
“Imagine that.” She turned and practically dragged Simon back to his tent.
“Are we going to do it?” Simon asked, a smirk painted across his features.
“I think you’ve done enough already.” She dropped him unceremoniously on the floor of his tent. She leaned backward and stretched her back and shoulders. “You’re heavier than I remember.”
He rolled over and gave her another smirk. “I’ve done enough? Was I good?”
She sighed as she bent over and tucked his willie back into his jeans. “You were the best, baby.” She gave him a wink before she stood.
“That’s King Baby.” He yawned and rolled to his side.
“You got a few minutes to sleep, King Baby. Then it’s all the hot coffee I can pour down ya.”
She sat on the edge of his cot and stared at the pile of crap they all called a leader. She silently wished that somebody with more than two brain cells would step up and dethrone the king.
Carol looked in and found Dr. Carpenter sleeping. She glanced at his vitals and nodded. It appeared as though the cocktail she had injected him with was doing the trick. At least he was able to get some rest.
She gently closed the door and returned to her workstation. She had just sat when an orderly approached. “Word is that Dr. LaRue is on her way back.” He gave her a knowing smile. “She has the primordial sample.”
Carol exhaled hard and leaned on the counter. “Thank god.”
The orderly nudged her. “I thought you were an atheist?”
“Agnostic. And it’s just a phrase.” She pushed away from the counter and picked up the running report she’d maintained on Dr. Carpenter. “Do me a favor and have another researcher go through my notes. Have them make sure I’ve chronicled everything we’ve attempted with Dr. Carpenter. When she gets back she’s going to want details.”
The orderly nodded and picked up the file. “You think this original sample is going to do the trick?”
“I certainly hope so.” She turned and glanced at the clock. “When is she due?”
He shrugged. “I just heard that they’re on their way back.” He turned for the door, then paused. “They had to make some kind of detour to drop somebody off…oh, and that military guy that nobody liked? He didn’t make it.”
Carol felt as if she’d been gut-checked. She slowly turned to him. “You mean Captain Hollis?”
The orderly nodded. “Yeah, I think that was his name. The tall guy that wanted to help out, but Dr. LaRue said was dumb as a box of rocks. It was him.”
Carol sat down gingerly. She could see his brilliant smile. The blue of his eyes. The way he always carried himself so confidently. She had to swallow the lump that had risen into her throat.
“Anything else, doc?”
She turned to the orderly and shook her head, her ears not really hearing him. “I’m fine, thank you.” She waved him off as visions of Captain Hollis bounced through her mind.
She remembered the times he’d tried to make small talk. The times he sat with her on the mess decks during meals. She remembered how he seemed to almost flirt with her and she had dismissed him�
�because Dr. LaRue had commented he was so desperate to be in the lab that he’d resort to using any excuse he could think of to worm his way in.
Was she right? Or had he really been interested in her? She turned and looked at her reflection in the cover of the culture warmer.
Could he have really been interested?
She’d never know now. The man was dead or missing in action. She sat back in her seat and tried to focus, but images of him smiling at her overtook her thoughts.
Carol glanced around the lab and realized, there weren’t exactly a lot of dating options left these days. Not that she’d really have time for such matters, but now that option was removed. And for what? Because she’d feared what Dr. LaRue might think?
Carol forced herself up from the chair and walked from experiment to experiment, going through the motions of checking each one and charting their progress. The entire time, though, her mind was on the handsome captain she’d never see again.
“Life is too short…”
Roger leaned into the curve and hit the accelerator on the Harley. He rode the machine to the top of the crest, then hit the brakes. He slowed the machine and glanced down the road leading to the trap that now held his beloved Indian.
Although the FatBoy was a decent riding machine, his Indian was his. He had raced to the dealership to put his money down on the thing before they were even available for sale. He’d loved that bike. He couldn’t be held accountable for wanting one last look at its final resting place.
He didn’t expect to see Mike standing beside his own bike and waiting.
Roger locked up the brakes on the Harley and stared at the big man at the end of the street. He watched as Mike slowly turned and crossed his arms over his massive chest. He looked like he wasn’t happy.
Roger looked straight ahead and felt the pull to continue. Just hit the accelerator and leave. He glanced down the street again and saw Mike. He was almost certain that if he could make out his facial features, the man would have a What the hell? look on his face.
Roger sighed and turned the handlebars. He drove the bike slowly, his eyes searching for either the ragers or other bikers who might be lying in wait.
When he got close enough he could make out Mike’s features, he didn’t feel triumphant that he had guessed the other man’s mindset. He obviously wasn’t happy. He slowed the bike and killed the engine, coasting to a stop.
Roger pulled his sunglasses off and leaned across the triple-tree of the bike. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Mike seemed to grow larger as he spoke. “Tell me you didn’t just go by the camp and kill a man, then ask me What’s up? when I see you?”
Roger leaned back and tried not to show emotion. “What if I did?”
“Are you fucking nuts? You think Simon won’t put two and two together once he sobers up?” Mike stepped forward and Roger’s hand slipped to his jacket before he realized, he didn’t have his gun.
“I needed to know that you were with us.” He averted his eyes and shook his head. “I needed to know that you weren’t rallying the troops to come and overrun us.”
“So you killed a guy?”
“He spotted me.” Roger sat up straight and crossed his own arms. “I couldn’t risk him ratting me out to Simon.”
“So, you killed him. One of our own?” Mike marched slowly toward the smaller man. “What was all that crap about each of us having a place? Each of us making a new start?”
“I told you, I couldn’t risk him telling Simon that he’d seen me. I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”
Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah. I remember.” He cracked his knuckles as he reached the bike. “Give me one reason not to knock your god-damned head off.”
Roger sighed and shook his head. “I can’t, man.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I was just leaving.” He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly hopeful. “Why don’t you come with me? Grab your gal, pack some shit, and we’ll just take off. We can make a run for the coast.”
Mike shook his head. “It was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”
Roger’s face couldn’t hide his confusion. “Huh?”
“It was all bullshit. The whole story. You’re like a used car salesman. ‘Rally the troops, get rid of Simon, move into Utopia, and we can rebuild humanity’…it was all just so much shit to you, wasn’t it?”
Roger shook his head. “No. I meant it.” He turned and pointed back toward the warehouse. “They’re right down there. With enough supplies to give you a hell of a start.” He leaned back again and shook his head. “I just can’t be a part of it.”
“Why not?” Mike asked.
“Because. I just can’t.” Roger reached out and twisted the key on the bike, turning on the ignition. His finger hovered over the starter button. “I ruined things for me there.”
Mike reached out and twisted the key to the OFF position. “Talk.”
Roger stared away and sighed heavily. “Because I killed the sentry.”
“His name was Scar.”
Roger snapped back to him. “Just like yours is Savage? Or my name is Squirrel?” He pushed away and slid off themotorcycle, facing Mike. “Simon gave us those names. I couldn’t tell you who the fuck Scar is. Do you even know his real name?”
Mike stiffened as he stared down at Roger. He shook his head slowly.
“No? Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He began to pace, his arms flailing wildly as he spoke. “We don’t know who anybody is because of Simon. Simon says do this and we fucking do this. Simon says do that and we all jump to do that.” He spun and pointed a finger in Mike’s face. “Who the hell is he, anyway? What gives him the right to change who we are just so he can remember the names he gives us?”
“He’s the leader.”
“The hell he is!” Roger was breathing hard, half-expecting the sledgehammer-like fist of Mike’s to cave his skull in at any moment. “The only reason he’s in charge is because we’ve let him. And you were supposed to remove him from the equation so the rest of the gang could finally settle down and try to make something…something…GOOD.”
Mike crossed his arms again and stared at him while he vented. “Are you done?”
“No!” Roger stepped back and pointed toward the camp. “That son of a bitch won’t rest until he’s plundered and pillaged his way across the state and eventually the whole country. Anybody who does try to establish some semblance of civility will be overrun by him. He won’t stop until he’s sucked every last resource from those who have managed to survive, and he’ll kill the souls of anybody who travels with him.”
“I don’t disagree.” Mike finally stepped back and wiped the sweat from his brow. “You’re right.”
“I know I’m right. That’s why you were going to stop him.”
Mike nodded. “But I don’t want them looking to me to be the leader.” His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. “I’m not the leader type.”
“You don’t have to be.” Roger stepped forward and pointed toward the warehouse. “Candy’s there. She’s a leader. She’s holding the fort while this Danny guy is out saving the world. If she’s any indication, then he’s got to be one hell of a leader.”
Mike sighed heavily and rolled his head around, cracking his neck. “And you’re certain? This is a good thing they got going on?”
“Of course I am.” Roger placed a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have told you about them if I wasn’t”
Mike turned to him. “Then why are you leaving?”
Chapter 18
Hatcher sat in silence and tried not to glare at LaRue. He had entrusted those two civilians with her and the girl was dead. Drained like a half-empty wine bottle so that Dr. Frankenstein could finish her gory experiments.
The more Hatcher allowed the situation to strike home, the harder he ground his teeth. He nearly jumped when Buck placed a gentle hand on his own. He gave him a knowing look and Hatcher visibly relaxed. He shook his head at
the young man slightly and nodded toward Dr. LaRue. He carefully mouthed the word “evil” and shook his head.
Buck gave him a knowing nod and Hatcher turned his hooded gaze toward the window of the chopper. He suddenly sat up and leaned closer to the glass. He tapped Buck and pointed. “Home is that way.”
Buck turned and stared out the window. Row after row of cookie-cutter houses zipped past below, their bright stucco exteriors highlighted with the red-clay roofs.
Hatcher gave the boy a lopsided grin. “We’re minutes away from Skeeter, kid. You think you’re ready?”
Buck gave him a toothy grin and Hatcher felt like it was the first time he’d seen the youth smile since they had reunited. “I can’t wait.”
Hatcher nudged him. “Maybe you can keep her out of trouble.”
Buck gave him a strange look. “Like she’d actually listen to me.”
“We’re five minutes out, Mister Hatcher. Do you have a preferred landing zone?”
Hatcher turned and faced the cockpit. Neither of the two pilots from the front were looking at him as they spoke over the coms. Hatcher wasn’t sure how to address him properly, but simply stated, “The roof held the last time you boys landed a chopper there. I suppose it should hold this one as well.”
“Copy that. Do you have a frequency that we can call ahead? I’d hate to take small arms fire as we approached.”
Hatcher smiled knowingly. “I’m sure they’re already aware of your approach. But to answer your question, they’re using two-way radios. I have no idea, though, the frequency they’re broadcasting on.”
“Roger that, ranger. We’ll keep it on the deck and make a slow approach.”
Hatcher leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief. This ordeal was almost over, and he could be back with his family once more. Then all they had to worry about was keeping the Zulus at bay. And finding food. And fending off groups of marauders like the motorcycle gang.
He glanced around the transport once more and quietly wondered how many trips the pilots would have to make to take his people to their flotilla.
Caldera Book 4: Countdown To Oblivion Page 16
