Caldera 9: From The Ashes Page 14

  She pulled him closer to her and wrapped an arm around his middle. “And I’m okay with that.”

  “Are you?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been around hard-asses my entire life. And although I think I know how to read them well enough to survive, I’m tired of just surviving.” She brushed her fingers along his cheek. “I like the idea of being with somebody who actually cares.”

  He turned and gave her a weak smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I’ll kill anybody to keep you safe.”

  She smiled again and nodded. “I know.”

  He pulled her close to him and felt something new. He wasn’t sure what to call it, but he really liked it.

  22

  Roger gave Hatcher a broad smile. “I’m actually feeling a lot better.”

  “That’s the codeine talking,” Candy added quickly.

  “No, it’s that last unit of blood that Vic gave me.” He brushed the back of his hand against her jaw. “The codeine is just icing on the cake.”

  Hatcher sat down quietly. “Mind if I pick your brain a bit?”

  “There’s not much left to pick at, but you’re welcome to the crumbs.”

  Candy scooted closer to Roger and gave Hatcher her attention as well. “I may be pregnant, but my mind still works as well.” She raised a brow at him. “If you’re open to a woman’s point of view.”

  Hatcher chuckled as he tried to think of a good jumping off point. “We’ve run into more of the cured.” He nodded to Roger. “Remember the woman we met?”

  “Like I could forget. We help her get home then she flips her shit.” He glanced at Candy. “She definitely had issues.”

  “Right,” Hatcher cut in. “Well, we met another guy. Helped him get home, too. He was supposed to grab some clothes and come with us.”

  “You were bringing him here?” Candy asked, a bit more panic in her voice than she would have preferred.

  Hatcher nodded. “He knew that his wife was gone. We stopped by his son’s house and there was nobody there.” He cleared his throat. “Yet, anyway.”

  “So?” Roger asked.

  “The old man dressed up in his Sunday finest and blew his brains out.”

  “Jeezus,” Roger groaned. “Sounds like he was just as ‘off his rocker’ as the old lady was.”

  “That’s sort of why I wanted to pick your brain.” Hatcher sighed heavily and eyed him warily. “Do you have any idea what we might possibly do to make their transition a bit…easier?”

  “Their transition?” Roger wiped a hand across his mouth. “You mean the Zulus?” Hatcher nodded slowly. “You want to help them reintegrate into society? That sort of thing?”

  Hatcher nodded. “If what is left of mankind is going to get the cure only to kill themselves…” He trailed off. “Then there isn’t much sense in saving folks.”

  Roger nodded slightly. “I see your point.” He pushed himself up farther in his bed and grunted at the pain in his shoulder. “Look. I’m probably not the best person to ask about this. I still see gray skin, red eyes and bald heads as the enemy.”

  “Are they all suicidal, Hatch?” Candy asked.

  Hatcher shrugged. “I’ve only met the few. The old lady was…angry. I could see her doing something really stupid.”

  Candy slowly came to her feet. “I understand the ‘why’ and I empathize with them. If they remember even fractions of what they did while infected, that’s a lot of guilt to carry.”

  “Especially if they feel responsible for a loved one,” Hatcher added.

  “Exactly.” Candy turned sad eyes to Roger and gave him a tight lipped smile. “But this is beyond either of us, Hatch.” She turned to face him. “We need a professional. A counselor or something.”

  “I already went through all our people’s files; none are even close to qualified for something like this.” Hatcher lowered his face. “I have no idea what government resources might be available, but I doubt there would be enough to deal with all of the infected.”

  A sentry pushed open the door to the infirmary. “Hatcher! We got another problem.”

  He spun in his chair and came to his feet. “What’s going on?”

  “A couple of guys lost it and started attacking people.” The sentry’s face was pale as he spoke. “They won’t be reasoned with.”

  Hatcher was on his feet and headed to the door. He quickly spun and nodded to Roger, “Just think on it. See if you can come up with anything.”

  The pair watched him disappear into the hallway. Roger looked up at Candy. “I think I liked them better when we were at war.”

  Candy patted his hand. “It was a lot simpler.”

  “A dog and pony show,” Broussard grunted. He glanced at his guard. “Can you believe that?”

  The guard nodded slightly. “Cake eaters. They think that they have to hand out medals and certificates every time somebody below them successfully wipes their ass.” He shrugged. “It makes them feel accomplished to recognize others.”

  Broussard considered his statement and smiled. “Quite profound.”

  The guard shrugged again. “I told you. I’ve seen a lot of things.”

  Broussard turned back and watched as the pier drew closer. He watched as men prepared lines to throw overboard. He leaned to the side to get a better view of the dockside. “There’s nobody to receive those big ropes.”

  The guard shook his head. “The ports have been empty for a while now.” He seemed to sigh a bit as his face fell. “We’ve lost contact with a lot of bases.”

  Broussard turned his attention to the man. “Really? How many?”

  The guard seemed to grow uncomfortable for a moment before he glanced to either side and lowered his voice. “Most all of them. No radio contact. Last reports were less than hopeful.”

  Broussard lowered his face and closed his eyes. “We were too late.”

  “No,” the guard stated flatly. “We should have responded differently.”

  Broussard looked up at him and his face was stone. “How so?”

  The guard looked down at him and his eyes were angry. He kept his voice even, but the frustration was still evident. “We should have killed any Zeds that came within a hundred yards.”

  Broussard’s brows lifted. “They didn’t?”

  The guard shook his head slightly. “From what I’ve been told, they were ordered to use less than lethal force.” His jaw ticked as he spoke. “Just in case you found your cure.”

  Broussard felt his chest tighten. “So, because they were counting on a cure, they ordered their men not to kill if attacked?”

  The guard nodded slightly. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

  Broussard felt his knees weaken and he braced himself on the side of the hatch. “I can’t believe…” He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “They sacrificed themselves to try to keep the Zeds alive.”

  The guard nodded. “Civilians.”

  Broussard squeezed his eyes shut then suddenly stood upright, his shoulders squared. “So, even more people died because we weren’t quick enough.”

  The guard placed a hand on his shoulder, catching Broussard off guard. “No. You did what you could in the speed you could.” He nodded toward the dock with his chin. “Anything that happened out there, is on the higher ups.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  “You should.” The guard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “If they had allowed the soldiers to kill the Zeds when they attacked, the others would have figured out quickly that attacking the bases was a stupid idea. The military would still be alive but more of the Zeds would be too.”

  Broussard turned his attention back to the docks and watched as men hurried across a metal platform and rush to tie the lines. “Looks like we’re docking.”

  “You should get below. Things will get really busy, really fast up here.” He opened the door and ushered Broussard inside. “We’ll just be in the way up here.”

  “We’ll still be allowed off the ship though, right?”r />
  The guard nodded. “When the time is right.”

  Simon grunted as he pulled the t-shirt over his wounded arm. “You’re moving a bit easier today,” Lana said.

  He gave her a weak smile. “Only because we have a date.” He shot her a wink.

  “I don’t think that house hunting can really be considered a ‘date.’”

  He turned and gave her a surprised look. “Considering that the movies aren’t playing and there aren’t any restaurants to take you to, I think house hunting counts.”

  She gave him a comical stare. “I guess that makes me a really expensive date.”

  Simon snorted and pulled his pants up, doing his best to buckle his belt one handed. “The world is yours, my dear.” He turned and gave her a lopsided grin. “Want jewelry? Furs? A new Porsche? It’s yours.”

  “Ooh, big spender.” She stepped closer and grabbed him by the belt buckle. She stared directly into his eyes as she tugged the belt tighter and buckled it for him. “Have you made up my mind yet?”

  He gave her a confused look. “About?”

  “Are we staying here or are we going to hit the road?”

  “That is entirely up to you.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “You choose, I follow.”

  She raised a brow at him and nodded. “Let’s shop around and see what this town has to offer. If we don’t like it, I hear the coast is nice this time of year.”

  He gave her a slight bow. “Which coast?”

  “Either. Both.”

  23

  Hatcher stared in total disbelief as the two men growled and snapped at each other, their faces a mask of pure outrage. Each had a pair of sentries sitting on them, holding them at bay, their hands either cuffed or tied behind their backs.

  “They were going for blood.” A sentry huffed as he struggled to hold one man’s legs. “I have no idea what got into them.”

  Hatcher bent over to see if he could tell who the offenders were. “Are these the same two that got into it the other day?”

  Will Stanton nodded slowly. “They’re unresponsive to questions. They just continue to snarl and struggle to get free.”

  Hatcher came to his full height and wiped a calloused hand over his face. “I have no idea what to do with them.”

  “Toss ‘em out on their asses and let them finish what they started.” A sentry barked. A long, bloody line creased his cheek and he looked as if he had taken the brunt of at least one of the men’s anger. “Or let me put a bullet in the back of their heads.”

  Hatcher shook his head slowly. “We need a place where we can keep them secure.”

  Will leaned closer and lowered his voice. “They’re scaring the women and children. If we could get them away from the community…” His voice trailed off.

  “For now, drag them to an empty room. Hog tie them if you have to and gag them to keep the noise down.” He huffed as he looked around the courtyard. “I take it that nobody saw what triggered this?”

  The guards all shook their heads. Will hung his head as he spoke. “The fellow with the handcuffs was assisting me earlier. He kept twitching and looking about as if he expected something to attack him.”

  “And you didn’t think to report this?” Hatcher asked.

  Will gave him an exasperated look. “After the attack and fighting the fires, I assumed that it was a form of PTSD.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry Mr. Hatcher. I should have said something.”

  “We’re positive that these are the same two guys who were fighting the other day?”

  One of the guards nodded. “I knew Jacob from before Simon…‘found’ us.” He fought with the struggling man as he attempted to wriggle away. “The guy didn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

  Hatcher groaned. “Are their eyes red?”

  The guard snatched a handful of Jacob’s hair and pulled his head back. Hatcher bent low and shook his head. “They’re clear.” The guard let go and Jacob bounced his chin on the tile of the ground with no reaction. He continued to stare at the other man, growling and snarling.

  “They don’t seem to be capable of rational thought at the moment,” Stanton said.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Hatcher muttered. “For now, separate them. Lock ‘em down in different rooms.” He turned to Stanton. “Find Hank and Wally. I have a new mission for them.”

  The guards picked the two feral men up from the ground and began to drag them away. Will lowered his voice. “What do you intend to do with them?”

  “If they don’t snap out of this and have a damned good explanation for their actions, then I’ve got no choice.”

  “And that is?”

  Hatcher inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Have Hank and Wally find a place far enough away and secure enough to dump them.”

  “Dump them?” Stanton’s voice raised an octave. “Like, in a jail?”

  “Probably.”

  “And who would feed them?”

  Hatcher gave him a deadpan look. “That’s not my problem.”

  “You can’t leave them to starve!” Will exclaimed.

  Hatcher paused and fought back a curse. “It’s either lock ‘em up, haul them off like garbage, or put ‘em down like mad dogs.” He raised a brow at the smaller man. “Which would you choose?”

  Will stammered a moment then turned and looked him in the eye. “I’d rather see them released to their fates.”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “So they can come back and possibly attack somebody else? A child perhaps?”

  Will’s face fell. “I, uh…I wouldn’t…” He gave Hatcher a defeated look. “I would hope that the walls and gates would keep them at bay.”

  Hatcher gave him a pat on the back. “So, make our people prisoners because these two might decide to sneak in and hurt someone?”

  Will swallowed hard. “But they weren’t infected. They aren’t Zulus. They’re…they’re ours.”

  “Are they?” He turned and pointed to the bloody froth still on the tile. “One of them almost chewed his own tongue off snapping at the other guy.”

  Will opened his mouth to argue then closed it. He looked to Hatcher, his eyes pleading. “There has to be something we can do.”

  “Vic gave them the once over the last time they went off the reservation. She came up with nothing. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that she wouldn’t find anything wrong this time either. They just went rabid.”

  Will brightened momentarily. “Perhaps she could look at them again. See if she can find the cause.”

  Hatcher shrugged. “If you can convince her to try without getting her hurt, go for it.” He turned and pointed a finger in Will’s face. “But I mean it. No risking my sister over these two. If she comes up with nothing, then we either jail ‘em, kill ‘em or dump ‘em.”

  Will nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

  Hatcher smirked. “I wasn’t asking for your agreement. I just need you to understand that we can’t take risks with the healthy people.” He glanced towards the gates and shook his head. “Especially now.”

  Carol stepped off of the metal gangway and inhaled deeply. “Is it just me or does the air smell different when you’re ashore?”

  “You’ve been back at sea for two days.” Broussard gave her a perturbed look. “You act as though you haven’t been on land in months.”

  She turned and gave him a confused look. “What is wrong with you?” She stepped closer and tried to look him in the face. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I returned.”

  Broussard raised a brow at her. “That’s your imagination.”

  “Is it?” She stepped in front of him and looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t think so.” He huffed and stepped around her. She immediately stepped in his way again and shook her head at him. “You’ve been distant. Cold.”

  “Cold?” He stared down at her. “I wouldn’t think you’d care.” He looked over her shoulder and watched as Miller came bouncing across the plank, a broad smile on his face. “Oh, look. Your biggest
fan is coming.” He bent low and sneered at her. “I better step aside before his ego knocks us both over.”

  Her eyes widened and she glared at him. “Miller? Is that what this is about?”

  “Who’s ready to see the city again?” Miller asked, overly jovial.

  “I’ve seen enough of the cities to last me a while,” Broussard stated. “I need to find a…” He paused, then turned to the pair. “A bar.”

  He turned and marched away, leaving Carol and Miller staring at his back. “What’s his problem?” Miller asked.

  Carol shook her head. “I wish I knew.” She glanced back at his retreating form. “This is not like him.”

  Miller scoffed. “I barely know the man, but he seems awfully full of himself.”

  She gave him a confused look and shook her head. “Quite the opposite, really. He’s one of the most humble people I’ve ever known.”

  “Well, three’s a crowd, I always say.”

  “Go ahead.” She turned and trotted after Broussard. “I’ll catch up.”

  Miller watched her jog away and opened his mouth to yell, then closed it. He turned and mumbled, “I don’t even know where I’m going yet.”

  Carol caught up to Broussard and grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, I wasn’t done talking.”

  He sluffed her grip away and continued walking. “I was.”

  She stepped in front of him and planted both hands against his chest, pushing him to a stop. “I said wait!”

  He looked down at her, his mouth a tight line. “What do you want?”

  She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong. What’s eating you?” She stepped back and gave him a softer look. “We’ve been friends for far too long. I really thought we could share anything with each other.”

  Broussard fought back a thousand ideas that fought to the front of his mind. Instead he looked down at her and counted silently to three. “Where’s your new best friend?”