He maneuvered around the concrete supports and the few cars that had tried to do what he was doing now. He rolled past a Toyota with a big lift kit and what looked like tons of off-roading gear. It sat cocked to the side as if frozen in a mid-rollover. He decided not to rubber neck and forged on.
As Interstate 70 grew closer, so did Hatcher’s hopes. He felt the big tires crunch onto gravel just before they smoothed out on the shoulder of the interstate. He whooped and slapped the dash board. “Now that’s how you build an off roader!”
He slowed the truck and put it into neutral, shifting the rig back into two wheel drive. “Onward and upward.” He put the transmission back into drive and pushed past the abandoned cars on the other side of the interchange.
He could feel his heart racing, the closer he got to the park. “Just hold on, Shelly. I’m coming.”
“It’s definitely a concussion.” Vicky stepped back and looked to Skeeter. “The brain is a wonderfully fragile organ. It doesn’t take much to hurt it, and it can take a long time to heal.”
“What can we do?”
Buck groaned as he sat up. “Lots of sleep.” He squinted in the bright lights of the exam room. “Right?”
Vicky nodded. “I’m not a neurologist, but yes. Time and rest.”
“What can we do about the headaches?” Skeeter asked. “Tylenol and aspirin aren’t cutting it.”
“I know,” Coop called from outside the office. He slowly appeared at the door, his gown hanging off of him. “I had a buddy that got a concussion so bad he ended up with traumatic brain injury.”
Vicky raised a brow at him. “So what do you recommend, Doctor Cooper?”
Coop wagged his eyebrows at her. “Remember, darlin’…I only play a doctor in the bedroom.”
“Oh for—”
“Migraine medicines,” Coop stated flatly. “Stuff like Propranolol and Topiramate. Depakote, if you have it.”
“Wait. Depakote is a seizure med,” Vicky stated.
Coop nodded. “Seems to work for migraines. Concussion induced migraines work the same way.” He shrugged at her. “Trust me.”
Vicky sighed. “Why not? It’s not like any of those are habit forming, and they won’t hurt if they don’t help.” She got up and pulled a box to her. “I just cleaned out the other medicine cabinet and…” She held up a bottle. “I knew I’d seen it.”
She handed the bottle to Skeeter. “I’ll keep looking for the rest. I’ll drop it by your room before I head out.”
She stood and hugged Vicky. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” She patted her cheek then turned to Buck. “If your symptoms get worse, find me.” She lifted his chin and met his gaze. “I mean it. Don’t try to tough it out.”
Coop tugged at his gown. “That Topiramate will make you light headed for the first few days you take it.”
Vicky gave him a confused look. “Who was this friend of yours?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Just another biker.” He cleared his throat. “Who wiped out without a helmet.” He tried to give her an innocent look.
“Uh-huh.” She lifted the box and stepped past him. “Get dressed old man. I’m transferring you to the new place.”
Coop’s face lit up. “Do I get a real bed? I could help keep yours warm.”
“Not on your life.”
Carol waited impatiently as the couple were cleaned up and dressed. “Thank you.”
Broussard gave her a confused look. “You were the one who stepped in front of the soldiers.”
“No, I mean for going along with this hairbrained idea. I know I’m grasping at straws.”
“It’s not hairbrained.” He leaned against the wall and watched her. “No more so than my idea to give them hallucinogens.”
“Psychedelics,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
He shrugged. “Tomaytoe, tomahtoe. If there is a way to connect with them, I’m all for it.” He pushed off the wall and glanced through the small glass window where the couple were being prepared. “I’m sure they’re probably starving.” He looked toward the lab. “I wonder if they’d bring them something so that we could start sooner?”
“Can’t hurt to ask,” Carol replied. She turned and gave him a wicked smile. “Actually, it can’t hurt to ‘order’ it. You are in charge of the lab now.”
He shook his head. “WE are in charge of the lab.”
She nodded. “Fine. I’ll order it.” She walked to the end of the hall and got a guard’s attention. “We need some food brought down to the lab.” She snapped her fingers. “Hop, hop. We need it soon.”
He gave her a confused look. “Ma’am?” He pointed behind him. “The chow hall is down—”
“We’re going to let our guests eat in the lab.” She gave him a hopeful look. “While the memories are still fresh in their minds. We don’t want to risk them forgetting how their language works.”
He nodded as if understanding. “I’ll have some sandwiches brought down.”
“And drinks,” she added. She turned and walked toward Broussard. “Holy cow…I think it worked.”
He gave her a weak smile then turned when he heard noise in the other room. He glanced through the glass again then stepped aside. “Our guests are ready.”
The pair stepped out, and the woman was nearly in tears. “My hair…”
Carol stepped close and placed a comforting arm over her shoulder. “It will grow back. It will just take a bit of time.” She prayed that wasn’t a lie.
The man stepped into the hallway and looked to Andre. “I do feel better.”
“Wait until you’ve got some food in your system. My colleague arranged to have some brought to the lab.” He directed the man down the hall. “We’d like to start as soon as you are able.”
The man looked at him hesitantly. “We don’t have to get close to them, do we?”
Broussard patted his shoulder. “The subject we are working with is secured, I assure you.” He sighed as they stepped into the room where the lab sat. “She’s easily agitated and she’s definitely hostile, but she’s secure.”
He opened the door to the lab and the four of them entered. The woman strapped to the table began to struggle with her bindings as soon as they were in view.
Carol nodded to Randy. “Remove her gag.”
He eased closer to the woman and reached below her head, unstrapping the ball gag. As he tried to lift it away, she clamped down on it and growled at him. “I don’t think she wants it out.” He gave a defeated look to the pair.
“Let go. When she’s ready to howl at the moon, she’ll spit it out,” Broussard stated. He stepped closer and leaned over her prone form. “I doubt you understand me, but we brought some people who might actually understand you.”
The pure hatred in her eyes told him that she didn’t care. As he leaned back, she spat the rubber ball gag toward him. It plopped harmlessly next to her on the table. She immediately began to howl and scream.
The researchers all pressed hands to their ears as her shrill voice echoed inside the acrylic walls of the laboratory. The cured man stepped closer and stared into her eyes. “I can’t understand her.” He looked to his compatriot. “Do you make out anything?”
She shook her head, her own hands covering her ears. “She’s just screaming.” She stepped further away and looked away from the crazed woman. She glanced at Carol. “Tell me we weren’t like that.”
Carol opened her mouth to reply then simply shook her head. “I can’t say. I never met you while you were under the influence of the rage virus.”
The woman cringed and sat in the farthest chair, looking away from the struggling woman. Her partner walked slowly around the table, studying her. “She seems more than just agitated.” He looked through the acrylic wall of the lab and his face fell when he saw the others pawing at the sides of their cells. “Good heavens. How many do you have here?”
“Too many,” Broussard stated as he reached for the ball gag. �
��Our task is to find a cure to their reaction to the cure.”
“There was a cure?” the man asked. He seemed to perk up slightly. “How was it administered?”
“Airborne. We modified a strep bacteria to carry a mutated version of the original virus, nullifying it in human hosts.”
The man’s face lit up and he began to nod. “Of course.” He snapped his fingers. “And who do we thank for this bit of brilliance?”
Broussard pointed to Carol and she pointed to him at the same time. She blushed slightly. “We worked on it together, but he was definitely the brains of the outfit.”
“Hardly,” Andre muttered as he slipped the gag back into the woman’s mouth. She clamped down on it and ravaged the rubber ball, swinging her head side to side.
“I’m sorry we can’t be of more assistance.” The man stepped forward, his hand extended. “I’m Doctor William Benedict, by the way. I am, or I was, a virologist with the University of Colorado.”
Broussard stripped his rubber gloves and took the man’s hand. “Andre Broussard. Geneticist.” He pointed to Carol. “My associate, Dr. Carol Chaplain.”
“Pleasure.” Carol nodded to him. “We could have used your help on the ship.”
“Ship?” William asked.
“Long story,” Broussard replied. “We developed the original cure onboard a ship in the Pacific.” He sighed and motioned toward the infected. “There were unfortunate side effects of the cure.”
“We think it mutated in vitro,” Carol stated as she draped a labcoat over the woman’s shoulders. “These subjects weren’t infected with the original virus. We announced that a cure was being dispersed and the people locked up in this mountain went out for a breath of fresh air.” She pointed to the woman on the table. “They were exposed to a mutated form of the cure.”
“And it caused this?” Benedict asked. He leaned closer and examined her physical condition. “How long has she been infected?”
Broussard shook his head. “I can’t be certain, as we weren’t here, but I would assume a few weeks.”
“Can they transmit their form of the…madness?”
“That’s the problem,” Carol stated as she came to her feet. “We can’t find any source on her skin, but we can’t really test her saliva or blood.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“It transmutates with every test we attempt,” Broussard replied, “and fights off every reagent we administer.”
“Remarkable,” Benedict whispered. “In vivo?”
“In vitro,” Carol replied. “We still have samples, if you’d like to take a look.”
Broussard stiffened slightly and gave her a puzzled look. “Are we inviting people off the streets to assist now?”
Carol scoffed. “At this point, I’ll take advice from anybody. The fact that he’s a virologist doesn’t hurt.”
“Who is this man and why is he in my lab?” Higgins screeched.
Andre turned and nodded to the soldier outside. “Remove him.”
“I will NOT be—” He struggled against the soldier’s grip. “Hey! This is my lab!”
“Not anymore,” Broussard stated firmly as he shut the door. “Please, Doctor; continue.”
Benedict watched as the little man was dragged away. “Do I want to ask?”
Carol shook her head. “The story is far too long and the short answer is, ‘no.’”
He nodded as he leaned down and pressed his eye to the ocular on the microscope. “Remarkable.”
Simon’s eyes popped open and his hand slapped to the side of him, reaching for his gun.
“Looking for this?” Trent asked, holding the pistol up in the moonlight. “Not tonight.”
Simon fought the urge to scream as he was forcibly dragged from his bed. Lana cursed as she snapped awake and saw the struggle.
“Don’t even think it, zombie bitch,” Trent stated firmly. He cocked Simon’s pistol and pressed it to the smaller man’s temple. “You’ll stay nice and quiet and we’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“What are you gonna do to him?” she asked, her hands balling into fists.
“Nothing,” Trent replied. “Not here, anyway.”
“Why not?” Lana sat up and pushed herself to the edge of the mattress. Her hand dragging along the side of the bed and noting her shotgun was missing.
“We don’t want to stir up the locals.” He smiled in the darkness and increased his grip on Simon’s throat. “We’re gonna let ‘em sleep like babies.” He tsk’d and shrugged. “Of course, when they wake up and realize that we’re large and in charge, things will change.”
“They won’t stand for this,” she shot back.
“Don’t worry your little bald head about it,” Trent scoffed as he began to drag Simon back through the RV. “I’m not into zombie poon, but Jake and Tommy will stick their dicks in anything.” He laughed out loud as he continued to drag Simon backward.
Simon gripped Trent’s arm with both hands, his wounded arm throbbing as he tightened his grasp, praying to hold on as he was dragged backwards. As soon as the pair turned and Trent started to take the steps backwards, Simon dug in his heels and kicked, throwing the pair back and out.
They landed with a loud ‘huff’ and Simon drove the elbow of his good arm as hard as he could into Trent’s ribs. The man cursed and actually squeezed a round from Simon’s pistol with the pain, dropping it as it discharged.
As quickly as he could, Simon spun in the large man’s grip and pummeled him about the face and neck, throwing as much of his weight as he could into the throat punches.
He heard Trent gurgle and both hands flew to his throat as Simon redirected the volley to the large man’s nose. When he heard the cartilage crunch and Trent’s eyes squeezed shut, Simon rolled to the side and scooped up his pistol, swinging it in a quick arc, searching for Tommy and Jake.
“Where are they, shitbag?” Simon barked, kicking his heel into Trent’s ribs. “You’re not brave enough to sneak in here on your own.”
Trent rolled to his knees and cupped his ruined nose as he continued to try to forcibly suck air into his lungs. “Down…” his voice sounded hoarse. He sucked air again. “Down the…” more air, “…mountain.”
Simon came to his feet and walked behind the large man. He pressed the pistol to the back of his head and peered into the darkness as lights began to pop on inside the various campers. “Step out into the light or I swear to Christ, I’ll blow his fucking brains out.”
Simon pulled the hammer back and pushed Trent’s head forward, forcing him to all fours as he continued to try to breathe through his rapidly swelling trachea. “I’m not playing, assholes. Step into the light. Now.”
Simon strained to listen and heard the distinct sound of somebody moving through the brush. He snapped his head around and caught Jake and Tommy slipping in between two trailers. Tommy held a rifle and Jake had a knife in his hands.
“Weapons.” Simon pointed with the pistol. “There. Now.”
Jake and Tommy dumped their weapons to the ground and Simon raised a brow at them. “All of ‘em, assholes. Even nail clippers if you got ‘em.”
Tommy gave him a confused look. “Nailclippers?”
“If the TSA won’t let you carry ‘em on a plane, you damned sure ain’t having ‘em.” Simon nodded toward the small pile. “Now.”
A crowd was beginning to form as people streamed out of their campers. Simon looked through the crowd. “Hammer, send somebody to check our sentries.”
“They’re fine,” Tommy replied. “We went around them.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” Simon barked. “Go. If they’re okay, bring them back.”
He sat down in his folding chair and kept his gun leveled on Trent. “Court is in session, motherfucker.”
22
Hatcher slowed the truck as the familiar sign announcing the park came into view. He actually got choked up and felt his chest tighten with anticipation
as he turned the big diesel towards the boundary.
He felt his mouth go dry as familiar landmarks came and went in the early morning light. His hands began to sweat and he wiped them nervously against his jeans.
He glanced at the fuel gage and smiled. That reserve tank in the bed made all the difference in the world. He had to force himself to slow down for the curves on the winding road as he stared out at the land that was once like home to him.
He slowed the truck to a stop and let the morning breeze blow through the windows. The air just smelled different here. Even with the grand majority of the human population gone and the air pollution minimized everywhere, the air at Yellowstone just smelled sweeter.
He slowly rolled the truck forward, feeling lighter than he had in months. “Hi honey, I’m home,” he muttered as more familiar sights rolled by.
Hatcher navigated the park roads and continued driving, pointing the big truck towards the Ranger Station that had been the largest part of his adult life. He slowed for the curves, avoided the stray boulders that the military had scattered; the smaller, downed trees he drove right over. The larger ones he went around.
He had almost forgotten just how long the drive to the office was as he worked deeper inside the park. The park that was, for all intents and purposes, ground zero for the near extinction level event that wiped out the majority of mankind.
He could feel his anxiety levels rise as he drew closer to the station. He slowed the big truck as he crested the last hill and turned the curve that he knew led directly beside the office. He stopped and shut off the engine, his eyes taking in the abandoned military vehicles and the trash that still blew across the gravel parking lot.
Hatcher felt a twinge of regret that the pristine beauty of the place was lost now. Covered in debris and trash and human remains, it would never be the same.
He walked cautiously toward the office and stared at the front doors left ajar. A quick glance to the ground told him that nobody had been there in a while. The dirt and gravel scattered across the entrance looked as if it had been there for months.
Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 16
