Caldera 9: From The Ashes Page 11

  Hatcher opened the door of the truck and climbed in. “I have no idea, Buck.” He slammed the door and stared at the front of the unassuming little house. “I’m afraid that all we can do is hope that people can forgive themselves and carry on.”

  Buck started the truck and ground his teeth. “I know that Nick’s death has nothing to do with Simon, but I really want to kill that son of a bitch bad now.”

  Hatcher nodded knowingly. “All in due time, Buck. All in due time.”

  Carol stepped off of the helicopter and actually felt like she had come home when she saw the deck of the haze-gray ship. Commander Miller handed her one of the cardboard boxes as he climbed down from the chopper. “It may take a few days to get your sea legs back.” He grabbed the other box of files and fell into step with the soldiers. “We’ll get you settled in first.”

  “Is my old room still available?” she asked.

  Miller shrugged. “Probably. But first things first. Let’s get these samples in the cooler before they degrade.”

  She increased her speed to catch up with him and Broussard brought up the rear. They followed Miller into the bowels of the ship as he led them back to the lab. As soon as she gripped the ladder leading to that deck, she recognized where she was. She actually found herself smiling as Miller held the door open for her.

  “Be it ever so humble.” She set the box down and looked around the tiny space. “I think they made it smaller while I was gone.”

  “You got used to the university,” Broussard stated as he rifled through the box for the samples. He stacked them on the counter then pulled the chiller door open. “I’ll put these all on the top shelf.” He gently laid out the samples then shut the door. “You’ll need to label them as soon as you can.”

  Carol spun a slow circle, taking it all in again. “I can’t believe I ran.” She turned and gave Broussard a sad look. “I hope they weren’t too rough on you.”

  He lifted his hair and showed her the yellowing bruise. “It could have been worse.”

  Miller fidgeted uncomfortably. “Apologies, Dr. Chaplain, but…why did you run?”

  She lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed. “It was silly, really.”

  “You believed it to be a real threat.” Broussard immediately stepped in, coming to her defense. “I agreed.”

  “To what?” Miller asked.

  “I feared that, well, with so few females left uninfected, that if the cure didn’t work…” She blushed again and shook her head. “They’d have to repopulate somehow.”

  Miller gave her a confused stare until he put the pieces into place. “Oh, my.” He shook his head as he stepped forward. “I can see where the idea might enter your thoughts, but surely you didn’t truly believe that anyone would…” He stumbled on his own words. “I mean, this is still America.”

  Broussard raised a brow at him. “I don’t think that really matters now.” He sat down gently, his rear sore from the lack of padding on the helicopter. “The only government that exists is that which the people with the guns says exists.”

  Miller shook his head. “We are still a nation of laws.”

  Broussard glanced at Carol then back to Miller. “From what little I’ve seen out there, it’s just a lot of empty buildings.”

  “There are still people,” Miller pleaded. “Once they’ve been exposed to the cure, they’ll—”

  “They’ll what?” Broussard interrupted. “Be like that Kelly woman we met out there? Be like the man who was gunned down? Or be too simpleminded to find food, like the group that we gave the MREs to?”

  Miller trembled as he leaned across the workbench. “No, they’ll eventually remember. Their survival instincts will kick in and they’ll find what they need.”

  Carol sighed as she sat across from Broussard. “From what Kelly told me, she remembered what she did as a Zed.” She searched their faces for understanding. “If she hadn’t been so cold inside, she might not have been able to deal with the consequences of surviving the virus.”

  “We’ll get them help,” Miller said. “We’ll find them and—”

  “We can’t even be certain where they are.” Broussard interrupted. “And you saw how frightened they all were. Do you really think that they’ll trust armed men to actually help?” Broussard sighed and lowered his head to the table. “The team leader wanted to leave them be. He didn’t care that they were starving.”

  “But now we know that the cure is working. Once I brief the president, he’ll set up an emergency plan to deal with these things.”

  Carol gave him a dumbfounded look. “Who will actually implement this plan?” She scoffed as she came to her feet. “The people on this boat? The other boats? There’s what…maybe a couple thousand people out here? There could be potentially be millions of survivors out there.” She sighed as she took her seat again, her energy drained. “Andre is right. Even if we had the resources—”

  “Which we don’t,” Broussard interrupted.

  “Right. But even if we did, we don’t have the manpower.”

  “People want to survive,” Miller stated flatly. “That’s why they did what they had to out there.”

  Carol shook her head. “They did what they had to out there because they were infected with a rage virus. This isn’t a case of the Donner party. People didn’t attack and kill each other because they were starving.”

  Broussard noted how she’d left out “eat” from her argument. He cleared his throat and stood slowly. “As I’ve said before, one problem at a time.” He motioned toward the chiller. “We have samples from your lady friend and from Kevin…er, Dr. McAlester. We need to isolate the mutated DNA and find the chink in its armor. If there’s a possible way to combat the mutation, then we must try.”

  Miller gave him a questioning look. “Do you really think that’s necessary? The percentage of the population that will be affected by the mutation is small compared to the total number cured.” He gave him a tight lipped smile. “Nature will prevail.”

  Broussard nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “That’s the place.” Simon pointed to the wrought iron gates bent and barely attached.

  “Looks like somebody tore the hell out of your entrance.”

  Simon cocked his head, his memories still fuzzy. “I’m not sure, but it might have been me.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I think I was in a hurry.”

  “No doubt.” She turned into the gated community and accelerated up the hill. “Which house?”

  “Go to the last street and turn right. It will be all the way at the end and on the left.”

  She could see that the road ahead continued a bit farther; houses lined on either side, but then turned at the last road. “This one?”

  “Yeah. That yellow house down there.”

  “They’re all yellow,” she deadpanned. “Or tan.” She shook her head. “All of this Southwest dirt color. So drab.”

  Simon noted that the garage was still open and it appeared that things were just how he had left them when he’d made his escape. “I don’t think anybody’s been here since I left.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the trash in the yard and the garage. “I guess the maid quit.”

  Simon gave her a sheepish grin. “It was just me and a few other guys. Nobody was really into the whole ‘cleaning’ thing.”

  He shut the door of the truck they had taken and walked through the garage. He bent low and picked up a bottle from one of the boxes of liquor. “This was the good stuff.” He handed her the bottle and walked to the door leading into the house.

  “I get to dump it all, right?” she asked as she fell into step behind him.

  He winced slightly then nodded. “If that’s what you want to do.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked into the gloomy house. “But if we take it with us and run into other people, it could be good stuff to barter with.”

  She set the bottle on the counter and followed him. “Right, because the other liquor sto
res in the country will all be sold out.”

  He paused and considered her argument. “Okay, you have a point.” He turned and walked into the kitchen. “We had left some food in…ah.” He reached into a box and pulled out a can of chili. “Again, the good stuff.”

  She glanced at the label. “Hormel?” She shook her head as she rifled through the contents. “That stuff is gross.”

  “Don’t you remember the commercials? Home made or Hormel?”

  “Proof that there’s no truth in advertising.” She lifted out a canned ham. “At least there’s some edible protein.”

  He chuckled as she set it on the counter. “I thought you’d be sick of that stuff by now.”

  “It beats a can of Montezuma’s revenge.” She walked past him and stepped into the dining room. “Christ, what happened here?”

  “I got shot.” He leaned against the counter. “That’s where they sewed me up.”

  She gave him a look he couldn’t read. “What are you? A bullet magnet?”

  He shrugged then winced. “Is it too early for another pill?”

  “If you eat something. I don’t want you barfing on me.” She held her hands out and gave him a satisfied smile. “I’m squeaky clean.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned back to the kitchen. He scooped up a package of flavored crackers and ripped open the plastic. “I think I liked you better when you were dirty.” He winked at her as he slipped a cracker into his mouth. “Eww. They’re beyond stale.”

  “Just eat it.” She turned and walked into the living room. “It looks like somebody lived in here.” She kicked a few empty liquor bottles then gave him the stink eye. “I’m guessing that ‘somebody’ was you?”

  He shrugged. “I told you. I wasn’t a good person.”

  She studied him for a moment then shook her head. “I have to call bullshit.” She unzipped the faux leather jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “Since we both woke up, you haven’t…” she looked down at the clothes she wore, “tried anything.” She walked toward him seductively, putting a little extra swing into her thin hips. “You’ve seen me au natural and didn’t make a single move.”

  He shrugged. “I scrubbed your back.”

  She nodded. “Just my back.” She stepped closer and nuzzled his neck. “You tell me that you’re bad, but I don’t see it.”

  Simon swallowed the cracker slowly, his eyes following her. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Am I?”

  He sidestepped her and sat down at the dining table. “Look, Lana…I—”

  She cut him off by straddling his legs and sitting in his lap. “I remember almost everything from when you led the pack.” Her eyes glimmered with mischief as she scooted farther up into his lap. “I remember you taking what you wanted, when you wanted.”

  Simon’s face seemed to flush and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that…”

  “Shh.” She leaned close and kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s you and me now, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Of course,” he responded hoarsely.

  “Then why haven’t you claimed what’s yours?”

  He looked away and slowly shook his head. “I want us to be more than that.”

  She kissed his earlobe and he felt his breath catch in his throat. “We’re already lovers.”

  He nodded nervously. “That was then. I’m not sure that either of us really had a choice.”

  She leaned back and stared into his eyes. “What do you mean by ‘more?’”

  He could feel his arm throb and it made it increasingly difficult to think of the right words. “I don’t…” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as she kissed along his neck. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

  She paused and let his words soak in for a moment, not sure what she’d actually heard. Slowly she pulled back and saw the fear on his face. “What are you saying?”

  Simon was lost in her eyes as she probed his mind. He gave her a weak smile. “I’m saying that I don’t want to push you away.”

  Her face hardened and she sat back. “I’m not a china doll. I don’t break easy.”

  “I’m not talking about breaking you.” He reached out with his good hand and pulled her gently closer. “I’m talking about hurting you. Your feelings matter.”

  Lana wasn’t sure how to respond. She cupped his face and pulled him to a kiss. “I think you earned your pain meds,” she chuckled.

  “I hope you don’t plan to do this every time I’m hurting.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m not smart enough to find the right words every time.”

  “Sometimes you only have to say something right the first time.”

  18

  “I just feel helpless,” Hatcher stated softly. He held the same glass of whiskey in his hands while Vicky listened patiently. “If I’d had a clue what he was going to do…” He set the glass on the edge of her desk and held his head in his hands.

  “If someone decides to do what Nick did, there’s little that you can do to stop them.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Not if they’re serious.”

  Hatcher nodded slowly and sat up, his eyes swollen from unshed tears. “I don’t know why this old geezer has gotten to me. I barely knew him.”

  Vicky rolled her chair closer and lowered her voice. “He represented hope, Danny, and then he took it away. You fear that more of the Zulus will react the same way once they’re cured.” She gave him a soft smile and patted his arm. “It’s an understandable worry.”

  “I knew that coming back from this would be tough, but I didn’t really give much thought to the mental state of people afterwards.” He sat back and lay his head on the back of the couch, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “What you’ve been doing.” Vicky’s voice sounded stronger as she spoke. “You’ve kept these people alive this long by sheer will and smart thinking.” She scooted closer and gripped his hand. “Keep following your gut.”

  Hatcher nodded and sat forward again. “That works for us.” He gave her a frown. “But if this is all that’s left? The human race is doomed.”

  “Danny, you can’t save all of humanity.” Vicky couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice. “It’s pure vanity to think that you could.” She saw the look on his face and she lowered her voice again. “Look, there are people offshore on the military flotilla. There has to be more settlements similar to ours out there. Maybe even bands of roving survivors.”

  “Like the Marauders?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’re just regular folks, moving around to avoid the risky areas.” She sighed and hung her head. “The point is, even if we are all that’s left of the human race…” She met his gaze and smiled. “And I don’t think we are, but if we are, there’s still hope. As long as there’s one man and one woman, there’s still a chance that we’ll pull through this.”

  He looked up and thought of Candy. “How’s Roger doing?”

  “He’s woken a few times. Ate a bit earlier.” She reached for his chart and looked over it. “Honestly, I think he’s past the worst of it. His vitals are all strong and other than waiting for his wounds to heal, I think he’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Has he told you about his plans to move out?”

  She gave him a surprised look. “Really?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “He drove me through a housing addition and mentioned that he wanted to pack up Candy and move her to a ‘private’ place.” He smiled as he remembered how excited Roger had been. “I even talked to Stanton about possibly doing to a gated community what he’s done here.”

  “You mean, move all of us?”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “It might be nice to have neighbors that don’t share a wall with you.”

  Vicky raised her brows and shook her head. “Start our own little community.” She grinned at him. “Call it Hatcherville.”

  “The hell.” He sat up and gave her a di
rty look. “I’ll go back to Yellowstone if you try that.”

  She opened her mouth to argue when a knock on her door interrupted. “Hey.” Trevor gave her a nod. “Any chance you could look over Peanut?”

  “Patricia!” Vicky came to her feet. “How are you feeling?”

  “It’s Brandy, Miss Vicky.” The little girl gave her a beaming smile.

  Vicky’s mouth fell open. “Well, look at who’s talking now.” She smiled as she opened her arms to greet the child.

  “I better get going.” Hatcher came to his feet and nodded to Trevor. “Good to see you’re back.”

  “You said we could return.” Trevor raised his brows. “It looks like you could use some help rebuilding.”

  “Talk to Stanton. I’m sure he’d put a hammer in your hands.” Hatcher turned to his sister. “I’ll check on Roger on my way out.”

  Vicky scooped up Brandy and set her on the corner of her desk. “So. We had your name all wrong, huh?” Brandy giggled as Vicky tickled her ribs. “I think her tickle box is broken. We’re gonna have to do surgery!”

  Hatcher found the sound of a child’s laughter music to his ears and he pulled the door shut behind him. He looked in and found Roger sleeping. He turned to leave when Candy cleared her throat. “He asked for you.”

  Hatcher turned back and gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “Did you kill Simon?”

  He shook his head slowly. “They’d already pulled up stakes.” He stood taller and blew his breath out slowly. “Hank found an old man that…” He looked away.

  Candy nodded. “I overheard part of your conversation with Vicky.” She stood and stepped out of Roger’s room. “I’ll admit, at first I was angry that you didn’t put him down yourself.” She looked away and shook her head. “But the more you spoke, the more I wished…”

  Hatcher nodded. “I know.”

  She sighed heavily and looked up at him. “I had gotten so used to thinking of them as animals.”