Caldera 8: Simon Sez Read online

  Caldera 8

  Simon Sez

  Heath Stallcup

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  A Note from the Author

  Also By Heath Stallcup

  About the Author

  Also From DevilDog Press

  Customers also purchased

  Caldera VIII Simon Sez

  ©2019 Heath Stallcup

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  * * *

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  * * *

  ISBN—

  Created with Vellum

  To my twin girls.

  You both love zombie stories and this is a different twist on the genre for you.

  It may not be what you’re used to, but if the Zombie Apocalypse ever really does come, it most likely will be some kind of rage virus versus the slow, shambling, walking dead.

  * * *

  Rule #1: Cardio…

  Chapter 1

  Hatcher jumped when a piece of stucco beside the gate erupted. A rifle round shattered the cement mix, sending bits of debris flying and cutting him off mid-sentence. He dove for the ground and screamed, “DOWN! Gun shots!”

  Bodies dove for cover as more shots thudded against the sides of the adobe building and exterior wall. Cooper rolled to his side, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Take cover! Incoming!”

  Hatcher reached out and grabbed the man’s hand. “You’re bleeding.”

  Cooper rolled to his back and looked down at his white t-shirt, stained red with blood. “Well, ain’t that a kick in the nuts.”

  Hatcher pulled a bandana from his back pocket and pressed it to the wound. “Pressure. We have to slow the bleeding.” His eyes met Cooper’s and for the moment, the man appeared unfazed. “Medic! We got a man down here!”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad, Hatch.” Cooper tried to sit up then blanched. “Or maybe not.” He collapsed onto his back and his eyelids fluttered.

  Hatcher waved to a man running by. “We need a stretcher! Coop’s been shot!”

  Vicky rushed through the front doors and slid in beside her brother. “How bad?” Her eyes scanned the wound then she did a double take. “Coop?”

  “Help her get him to triage!” Daniel stepped back and let two others lift Coop onto a stretcher then he watched the quartet rush back through the front doors. Hatcher felt his breathing coming in gasps and he muttered, “Don’t you die on her you wrinkled old bastard.”

  “The shooter has stopped.”

  Hatcher looked up at the sentry and saw him slowly coming to his feet, his rifle angling over the edge of the adobe fence. “Are you certain?” He stepped up onto the scaffolding and peered over the top.

  The sentry handed him a pair of binoculars. “The truck is still out there, but nobody’s shooting. Maybe he’s reloading?”

  Hatcher pressed the field glasses to his eyes and scanned the open field. He quickly found the headlights and tried to peer past the glare. “I can’t see him.”

  “Maybe we got lucky and a Zulu ate him,” the sentry deadpanned.

  “Keep scanning the area. He may have just moved to better cover,” he said, handing the binoculars back to the sentry. Hatcher stepped down from the wall and avoided the open area of the wrought iron gates. “I need somebody crazy enough to storm that truck…during a Zulu attack.”

  Roger groaned. “If you’re looking for volunteers…”

  Candy elbowed him hard in the ribs. “You’re gonna be a dad, you dimwit.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “She’s right.” He huffed as he scanned for another person to send on a suicide mission. “I guess if I can’t find crazy, then stupid is the next best thing.” He reached for the latch on the gate.

  He felt a hand clamp over his own and turned to stare into Buck’s dark eyes. “I got this one.”

  “No way, kid…”

  “Don’t argue.” Buck leaned closer and lowered his voice. “They need you to run this place. Besides, I’ve lived with the infected in the wild, remember? I think I can make it across a couple hundred yards of open ground and survive.”

  “I can’t let you do this.”

  “I ain’t asking.” Buck pushed the gate open and slipped into the buffer zone. “I’ll be right back.”

  Hatcher opened his mouth to argue but the kid slipped into the darkness before he could get a word to form.

  Both Carol and Broussard froze when a car alarm went off, its lights flickering and the horn blasting in the evening shadows. He grabbed her by the coat and quickly dragged her across the street and into the darkness of an alley. She stood trembling by the entrance as screams echoed off of the surrounding buildings.

  Broussard stepped deeper into the shadows, his hand reaching to cup her mouth. “Shhh,” he whispered in her ear.

  The pair turned to make a break for the end of the alley when Broussard came up short, his hand falling from her mouth. “Oh, no…”

  Carol stared at the Zed standing just feet away, his head cocked to the side as he stared at the pair.

  “Easy.” Carol held a hand up as she slowly backed away from the creature. “Let’s everybody just stay calm.”

  Broussard stepped in front of her. “There’s no reasoning with the infected.” His body stiffened in preparation for fending off an attack when the creature tilted its head back and screamed into the air.

  Without thinking, Broussard lunged forward and did his best imitation of a karate chop to the man’s exposed throat, throwing his large mass behind the strike. The creature doubled over, its hands scratching at its neck as it tried to suck air through the ruined larynx. Broussard used the creature’s panic to push it aside and pull Carol out of the alley.

  The pair darted across the open street, pausing at the other side to watch as the creature swiped at its own throat before falling to the side, kicking.

  “How did you know that would work?” Carol huffed as they continued running through the next alley.

  Broussard’s voice shook as he answered. “I didn’t. It was all I could think of to keep it from alerting the others.”

  The pair slowed at the end of the next alley and Broussard peered around the corner, searching the street for monsters. “I don’t see anything.” Carol whispered.

  Broussard pulled back into the shadows and shook his head. “I see movement in the darkness.” He pointed ahead of them and Carol squinted in the dwindling light.

  “I don’t…” She froze as grey skinned bodies darted back and forth. “They look confused.”

  Broussard pul
led her deeper into the alley and watched as the creatures slowed, their attention turning to the opposite direction from the pair. “Surely the signal generator can’t be heard from here,” his voice was a soft whisper, “but they seem distracted by something.”

  The pair watched as the creatures slowed their movements and all turned away, facing the direction that the military had moved on to. Slowly the small crowd began to shuffle up the street and turned, making their sluggish pilgrimage toward the frequency generator.

  Broussard blew his breath out hard and fell back against the wall, his hands trembling. “That was perfect timing.”

  Carol gripped his shoulder. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  Broussard shook his head. “No. We carry on.” He glanced back the way they had come. “We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

  “Andre, my fears are not worth risking our lives over.” She pulled him closer and tried to peer into his face. “It’s not like I have proof…it’s just a feeling.”

  “Your reasoning was sufficient to convince me.” He stood straight and squared his shoulders. “I feel the risk is worth keeping you safe, chére.”

  She opened her mouth to argue but couldn’t. She watched him step out of the dark alley and into the moonlit street. He waved her out to the street and he slowly approached the closest car. “And with them distracted by the generator, perhaps it is safe to look for transportation.”

  Simon propped the rifle along the window sill to steady it then nearly pissed himself when the front tire of his truck popped and hissed at him, air escaping as the bullet ripped through the rubber.

  “I ain’t changing that shit!” He leveled the rifle again and began taking pot-shots at the wall. “I’m gonna kill you all and take YOUR truck home!”

  He emptied the magazine and turned to reach into the bag again then froze when his eyes met the red-eyed gaze of a tall male Rager standing at the rear of the truck.

  “Fuck me…”

  The creature screamed and leapt at him just as Simon dove through the rear door and into the floor of the truck. His hands scrambled for the duffle bag and he gripped a pistol just as the monster tugged at his pants leg. Simon spun, bringing the pistol up and squeezing the trigger as the grey skinned beast sunk its teeth into his wrist.

  Simon howled, rapid firing the pistol until the infected man spun around, the bullets shredding the meat and bone of his shoulder. Simon pushed himself up with his good hand and emptied the magazine into the fallen attacker. “Fucking animal!”

  He ejected the magazine then spied the blood running from his wrist. “Uh oh…”

  Simon launched himself into the front seat and made a mad scramble for the bottles rattling around on the passenger side. He quickly unscrewed the cap of the first bottle he found and began to pour it liberally across the open bite wound. He hissed and sucked in air as the alcohol washed the exposed meat.

  “Goddamsonofabitchin…FUCK!” He popped the bottle into his mouth and sucked the brown liquor out then quickly resumed pouring the antiseptic drink across his wrist.

  His feet slid out from under him and he fell onto the dried grass beside the truck. The bottle was still clenched in his grip and he blew his breath out hard as he stared at the bleeding wound on his wrist. “I ain’t going out this way.” He shook his head and wrapped his lips around the bottle once more. He tilted it back and opened his throat, letting the fire water slide down into his gullet.

  When the bottle was empty, Simon pulled himself to his feet and reached for the pistol. His eyes swam as he fumbled for a fresh magazine, and he had to try multiple times to slam the magazine into the grip. He grasped the slide and pulled it back, racking a round into the chamber.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his good hand to his temple. “Jeezus…my head.” He could feel his face flush and he prayed that it was the cheap liquor he had just dumped into his system. “Feels like a fucking hangover.”

  The barrel slid from his sweaty temple and hung limply at his side. He reached across the seat again and grabbed a second bottle. His legs shook as he slid back to the ground, the pistol in one hand and a fresh bottle in the other. “I’ll fucking do myself, before I…” He blinked rapidly and forced himself to suck in air. “But not…if…” The words had trouble forming and Simon squeezed his eyes shut again as a searing spike of pain shot through his head. Both hands came up to his temples and he pressed the barrel of the pistol to one side and the liquor bottle to the other.

  I ain’t going out like this. Not as one of them. He could form the thoughts, but it was like he had no control over his tongue.

  Simon opened his mouth and tried to speak, just to hear his own voice again. He had to prove to himself that he’d caught it in time. That the alcohol had done what it was supposed to do. He had to lick his lips; his tongue felt like sandpaper. A raspy croak escaped his throat and he felt a chill run down his spine.

  He lifted the liquor bottle to his mouth and took a long pull from it. He held some in his mouth, to keep his tongue moist, then tried again to speak. The sound reminded him of a barking bullfrog.

  Simon dropped the bottle and sighed heavily. He stared at the pistol in his hand and slowly lifted it to his temple. Fuck all you mothafuckers. I’ll see you in Hell.

  Chapter 2

  Hatcher climbed to the tower and pulled his radio. “Maintain your lines of sight. Drop the lead Zulus!” He watched as the thin crowd of infected hesitated near cover before darting toward the fences. Well-placed shots stopped the few who dared to attack while the main body remained in the shadows, looking for an avenue that didn’t include a hot lead injection.

  “They’ve gotten smarter.”

  Hatcher turned and raised a brow at the sentry standing next to him. “Funny how survival skills remain when the rest of the mind is gone.”

  The man cracked a smile. “Is it all gone? Really?” He pointed to the RV parked alongside the exterior fence. “Do you think that little girl has lost her mind?”

  Hatcher inhaled to reply then caught himself. Slowly he shook his head. “I think she’s the exception, not the norm.”

  “I think they’re changing. Evolving.” He shrugged. “Something.” He sighed and leaned against the rail as the sporadic shooting continued. “Used to be, they’d launch a full scale attack and not care who might die.”

  “Not anymore.” Hatcher lifted the binoculars again and peered toward the headlights. “I’ll admit that they appear to be learning. But I still think it’s more a survival instinct than anything else.”

  “If you ask me—”

  Hatcher held a hand up to stop him. “I got a bead on Buck.” He pointed towards the lone light across the empty grassland. “He’s closing on that shit Simon.”

  The sentry grunted. “If he ain’t already dead, I hope the kid sends him to that great sewer in the sky.” He raised a brow at Hatcher. “That’s where all turds go when they die, right?”

  Hatcher watched as Buck crouched low and duckwalked toward the front of the vehicle. The kid pressed himself to the front of the truck and edged toward the driver’s side. Slowly he came to a standing position and rounded the open door of the truck. Hatcher held his breath as he watched Buck slowly lift his pistol and point it. Hatcher waited, knowing that the end of that pistol was about to belch fire.

  Buck slowly lowered the weapon and turned back toward the compound. He made a dead run for the front gates and Hatcher stared in confusion for a moment. “I’m guessing Simon was already dead.” He moved toward the short run of steps and reached for the ladder. “Eyes open. Keep alert.” He pointed at the sentry. “You’re our eyes up here. Keep everybody on their toes.”

  “You know I will, boss.”

  Hatcher disappeared down the ladder and the sentry caught him in his peripheral vision as he darted toward the main entrance.

  Hatcher slid to a stop at the wrought iron gates and pushed them open just as Buck appeared from the din and slowed his r
un, stomping his feet as he applied his brakes. “He was already dead?”

  Buck shook his head as he gulped air. “As good as.” He bent over for a moment then walked in a slow circle, his hand pressed to his side. “I haven’t run like that in…”

  “Simon!” Hatcher grabbed him by the shirt and spun him around a bit too forcefully. “What do you mean ‘as good as’?”

  Buck held a hand up. “He was bit. There was a dead Zulu beside the truck.” His eyes met Hatcher’s gaze and he gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He might survive the bite, but he won’t survive the change.”

  Hatcher stepped back and eyed Buck angrily. “The man is a cockroach! If there’s a way to survive, he’ll find it.”

  Buck shook his head. “He was already losing his mind. He was pressing a pistol to his head and when he noticed me holding the gun on him. Bastard lifted a whiskey bottle and shook it at me.” Hatcher gave him a confused look. “He was trying to shoot me with the liquor bottle.”

  Hatcher slowly released his breath and nodded. “Sounds like he’s done for.” He looked up at Buck and narrowed his gaze. “Why not just put him down?”

  Buck shrugged. “Why waste the bullet? He’s a goner.”

  Broussard cupped his hands to the window then tried the car door. It pulled open with a slight creak and he adjusted the seat further back to fit his oversized frame, grimacing slightly when the steering wheel rubbed across his stomach. He sighed then twisted the key, smiling as the engine spun over and barked to life. “Eureka!”