Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here Read online

  Roger trotted to the edge of the cul-de-sac and pulled the truck from the garage. He drove it to Hatcher and helped him into the cab. “We can go and search for him.” He drove slowly, allowing Hatcher a moment to consider their options. “If you really think he’ll try to cause more trouble, then I think we should at least drive around a bit and see if we can spot him.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “Town’s too big. He could hide anywhere.” He pointed out the windshield. “Just take us back. We’ll deal with him when we have to.”

  He leaned against the passenger door and held his ribs with his arm. Roger slowed the truck for a rough spot in the road and watched Hatcher grimace as the truck bounced over it. “You okay?”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “It only hurts when I breathe.”

  “That can’t be good.” Roger picked up the pace, being careful to avoid rough patches.

  “I’ve had broken ribs before. You just wrap them tight with a wide ACE bandage. It helps a lot with the pain.”

  “Wrapping broken ribs helps with the pain?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “I know, it doesn’t make sense, but it works.” He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.

  Roger made a bee line for the compound, his eyes constantly turning back to Hatcher. “Without an X-ray, Vicky can’t tell if they’re actually broken or not, can she?”

  Hatcher shook his head slowly. “No, but the treatment is the same.” He pushed himself up higher in the seat and used his arms to brace his body from the shock of the truck driving over the rough patches.

  “Hold on buddy. I’ll get you there as soon as I can.”

  “Smoother is better than fast.” Hatcher gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’d rather take our time and not hit any more bumps than absolutely necessary.”

  Roger nodded and let his foot off the gas. “Sorry man. I was just worried.” He slowed the truck and hung an arm out of the open window. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

  Hatcher leaned his head back and nodded. “That’s the ticket.”

  Broussard set the culture aside and used a sterile swab to retrieve a sample. He sighed to himself at the unusual growth rate and knew before he ever tested it that she would test positive for the treatment form of strep.

  He smeared the sample along the bottom of the test tube and added the reagents, shaking the tube to ensure that the bacteria was fully mixed. He placed it into the heater and cranked it to two hundred-two degrees Fahrenheit.

  Broussard sat back with a heavy sigh and shook his head as the solution heated, breaking the DNA chains into singular strands that would react with the base nucleotides, effectively copying the genetic material.

  He tapped the side of the table, knowing that the test he was about to perform was a waste of resources. The only way she could show such substantial growth in the medium was if she had contracted the much more virulent strain. Still, his methodical mind wouldn’t allow him to simply assume.

  He waited while the thermal cycler went through its heating and cooling cycles, knowing that each time it did, the DNA annealed and created twice as many copies than the previous cycle. While the machine did its job, he poured a cup of coffee and waited.

  After his second cup he began to mix the separating gel media. He withdrew his known base sample of the strep bacteria and applied it to the gel. With a pipette, he pulled a sample of Dr. Chaplain’s strain and applied it on the other side of the gel bed. He placed the gel in the incubator and connected the electrical leads to apply current. He stripped his gloves and pulled his mask off. “We already know the result; why do I bother?”

  He paced the lab as he waited, praying that his guess was wrong. “Why does time slow down when you are waiting?” He sat down at the table and tried to focus on anything other than the test. He was alphabetizing the files for the second time when the buzzer sounded. He quickly shut the file cabinet and pulled the gel from the incubator.

  He flipped on the black light and groaned when the fluorescent dye bound to the DNA began to glow.

  Andre Broussard pushed the gel away and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “We will have to keep a close eye on you, Dr. Chaplain.”

  Simon snapped awake and jerked in the driver’s seat. He glanced around, unsure of where he was or why he was there.

  He sat up slowly and rubbed at his face. “Fuck me, my head.” He gripped the sides of his face and leaned forward, his head throbbing. His hand automatically slipped to his side, searching out the liquid pain killer he always kept nearby.

  His fingers wrapped around the bottle of scotch and he twisted the cap, bringing the bottle to his mouth. After a long pull he sat back and sighed. “No hangover if you just stay drunk, right boy-o?”

  He cracked an eye open and peered through the dusty windshield. “Where the fuck am I?” He reached for the door handle and stumbled out into the parking lot. “Oh…yeah.” He pressed a finger to his nostril and did a quick farmer’s blow.

  Leaning against the roof of the car, he peered through the driver’s side window at the boxes still stacked in the back. “Better see what survived Squirrel and his scatter gun.”

  He stumbled around to the passenger side and pulled the door open. He rifled through the contents of the topmost box and shook his head. “Dead soldiers…all of ’em.” He grabbed the soggy box and slid it out into the parking lot.

  Rifling through the rest, he only found two broken bottles; easy enough to pick the glass out of. He sat on the edge of the hatchback and sucked down more of the scotch.

  “What’s a feller to do?” He scratched himself and stared up into the star filled sky. For just a moment he lost himself in the endless tapestry of white dots.

  A scream in the distance set the hair on his neck on end. He got awkwardly to his feet and turned a slow circle, looking for the direction of the sound. A second, higher pitched wail replied to the first one and Simon got the distinct feeling he was surrounded. He cautiously reached up and shut the back hatch.

  Working his way to the driver’s side, he slid into the seat and pressed the starter button. The car came to life and his headlights came on, illuminating straight ahead. He felt his stomach knot up when three grey-skinned and very thin Ragers lit up about fifty yards ahead of him.

  “Fuck me!” He threw the car into gear and the tires squealed in protest as he turned away from the human shaped monsters. The headlights of the car lit up a half dozen more as the car spun around, pointing toward the open road.

  “Not tonight you sons of bitches!” Simon floored the accelerator and the car shot off between two groups of advancing Ragers. He heard the slap of hands against the side of the SUV as he raced by. He sliced a curve, front tires bouncing off of the curb as he turned away from the Ragers, praying there weren’t more hiding in the dark recesses.

  House after house shot by as the car sped through numerous residential areas. He could see shadows from the headlights, and in his alcohol fueled mind, he saw Ragers racing out from every corner to try to stop him.

  He approached the end of the block and had to choose a way to turn as the street quickly came to an end. Simon slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel, pointing the car to the right. The headlights illuminated at least two light-skinned bodies standing in the street and Simon wasted no time in pressing the gas pedal to the floor again.

  As he raced past the two Ragers, something solid hit the car, smashing out his right headlight. Instinctively, Simon slammed on the brakes, causing the car to spin. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as the car spun around, its headlight coming to rest on the pair of Ragers standing in the street.

  Simon had to force himself to start breathing again as one of the Ragers stepped forward, his arm rising into the air. Simon’s eyes followed its hand up and noted the pipe that the creature now held high as his voice shrieked in the night air. The Rager shook the pipe then burst into a full-on run toward the car. Simon panicked and reached for the transmission lever, forgetting that the car was
already in drive. He jerked the lever down into low and floored it.

  The creature raced toward the vehicle and Simon braced for impact. He heard something solid hit the hood, and barely noticed the monster rolling away to the side, the pipe it had held just a moment before jammed into the thin aluminum of the grille.

  Simon took the corner at speed and barely realized that the engine was red lining, pushing its rev limiter as he continued to gun the engine. He reached down and gripped the lever, pulling it back into drive and allowing the vehicle to change gears and pick up speed. His heart hammered in his chest as he drove and he watched in terror as the pipe vibrated loose and clattered off of the hood of the car. He turned again near the parking lot and raced through the old residential area, praying that he was finally away from the infected that hunted him.

  Once he reached the edge of the residential area, Simon finally slowed the car. He tried to force his breathing back to normal as he turned again and followed a road sign that pointed to the highway. He had little idea where he was but he prayed that the highway would help him to get his bearings.

  As he made for the onramp he caught the first scent of antifreeze. He slowed the car and the odor grew stronger. He glanced down at the dashboard and cursed when he saw the temperature gage steadily rising, the needle threatening to enter the red zone.

  “Son of a bitch must’ve busted a hose.” He pulled the car to the side of the road and shut off the engine, the silence of the nearly abandoned city deafening him.

  He heard something under the hood tink then a hissing sound broke the muffled silence. The sweet scent of hot antifreeze shot out from under the car in a steam cloud just as the fluorescent green liquid began to spatter the pavement below.

  Simon cursed and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He turned a slow circle, praying that if anything hid in the shadows, he would see it moving in time. He swallowed hard and slid along the side of the car. His hand reached into the passenger window and gripped the bottle of scotch.

  If he was going down tonight, whoever ate him would have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

  Chapter 19

  Hatcher groaned as he shifted his weight to the other side of his recliner. The spare chair in his office was far more comfortable than the narrow bed in his room and right now he needed every advantage if he planned to get any rest. He nearly jumped when a timid knock came at his door.

  He turned his head slightly and saw Trevor pushing the door open. “I’m sorry to bother you Mr. Hatcher, but I wanted to ask a favor.”

  Hatcher waved him in. “Forgive me for not standing.”

  Trevor held a hand up. “I heard what happened. I wish I’d known you were going after Simon. I would have liked to help.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “He may have slipped by us, but I have no doubt you’ll get your chance.” He pushed himself up in his chair further and grimaced at the pain. “What can I do for you?”

  Trevor shifted his eyes and seemed to struggle with the words. “I wanted to ask…since it was dark and all…and the kids all seem to be inside for the night…”

  Hatcher waved him on. “Just spit it out. We’ll hammer through details if we have to.”

  Trevor nodded. “Well, there were some toys left in the yard out there.” He cleared his throat. “Since Patricia is a night owl ‘cuz of the sun and all, I was just wondering…”

  “If it would be okay if she played with them.” Hatcher finished for him. He nodded slowly, being careful not to pull anything. “I see no problem with it.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t stir up anybody. She’s pretty quiet most of the time anyways.”

  Hatcher waved him on. “Have fun.” He grimaced again and slid back into the recliner. “Every kid needs to stretch their legs. It could be good for her.”

  Trevor gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate it.”

  “If you need anything else…just let one of the sentries know. They can radio me.”

  Trevor nodded. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” He tipped his cap as he reached for the door.

  “Hey,” Hatcher called, pulling the man back inside. “If you need food or…anything, just let us know. I’m sure we have plenty of leftovers in the cafeteria.”

  Trevor nodded again. “Thank you. We just ate, but I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

  Hatcher gave him a subtle nod then watched as the man slipped back out of the door. He turned slightly in the recliner and peered at the monitors. He watched as Trevor walked back out into the courtyard then through the gate. A few moments later he reappeared with Patricia in tow.

  The child definitely looked like one of the many Zulus Hatcher had seen. Her head was nearly devoid of hair and those large dark eyes on the black and white monitor really stood out. He watched as she came through the gates and Trevor led her to the center of the courtyard.

  He looked on as the man picked up a ball and tossed it to her. The lightweight ball bounced off of her chest and across the ground. Hatcher shook his head as Trevor picked it up again and placed it into her hands. He tried to get her to bounce it back, but the child simply stared at him.

  Hatcher almost felt sorry for the guy. Was he trying to tame a wild beast? Was he trying to teach something that didn’t have the mental capacity to learn? He could only guess as the man continued to try to capture her interest with the different toys left scattered about the courtyard.

  He watched as Patricia stepped away from him. Hatcher tried to lean forward and see what had caught her focus and smiled to himself when she bent and picked up a rag doll. She held it up and stared at it for a moment as Trevor approached, curious at what she had found.

  Hatcher found himself tearing up as the girl pulled the doll into an embrace and he watched as Trevor bent low, speaking to her. He watched as her father reached out for the doll and Patricia took a step back as if to keep him from it.

  Trevor said something to her. Patricia held the doll out with both hands. She wrenched the doll’s head from its body and dropped both pieces to the ground without taking her eyes from the man. Trevor suddenly stiffened then took her by the hand and rushed her through the gate and back to their RV.

  Hatcher groaned as he tried to lean forward, unsure that he’d really seen what he had just witnessed. He stared at the monitor; just as he had thought, the rag doll was in pieces, lying on the ground. He sat back with a sigh and shook his head.

  “Maybe we need to rethink their being here.”

  Carol stiffened as she stared at the gel. “Okay. Well, at least we know.”

  Broussard nodded knowingly. “We should be cautious. More so than we had been.”

  She gave him a shrug. “It’s already out there. In the world. I’m sure we’ll all eventually be exposed whether we continue with the applications or not.”

  Broussard nodded. “Perhaps. But while we are here, on the ship…we must remain vigilant.”

  Carol blew her breath out slowly and turned to him. “What about McAlester? Are you ‘vigilant’ when he’s around.”

  “Doubly so,” Broussard admitted. “He didn’t particularly care for us before he was…infected.”

  Carol sighed and hung her head. “I suppose it’s karma biting me in the ass.” She looked up and shrugged. “Either our science is valid or it’s not.”

  “I pray that it is.”

  “As do I.” She sat down heavily. “Especially now.”

  Broussard stood and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We should not dwell on the past. What’s done is done.” He turned toward the lab. “We still have work to do.”

  Carol stood and nodded. “I suppose now that we know, I can do away with the gloves and mask when we’re transferring the solution to their tanks.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “That’s a positive.”

  Broussard shook his head. “Until we have positive field results, we should continue all safety protocols.” He hooked his chin toward the door. “For
the others, if nothing else.”

  She gave him a confused look. “But if I’ve already been exposed…”

  “Does not mean that anyone should treat the solution carelessly.”

  She nodded, not sure that she agreed with him. “Very well. We continue the protocols.” She stood and walked to the door just as the yeoman stepped inside.

  “We have a green light on your sonic…thing. Skipper says that he’s alerting a team to get your device into the field for testing. If it works and it really attracts the Zeds, then he’s authorizing the field personnel to gather up the supplies to create as many as we can.”

  “That’s great news!” Carol turned to Broussard and watched the man slowly nod. “What’s wrong?”

  “It is simply…if the devices are not at the proper frequency, then they may not operate as he hoped. I would hate to have your captain pull the plug on a potentially positive action simply because we failed to account for variation in the frequency.”

  Carol turned and raised a brow at the yeoman. “Any chance the captain could be made aware of the issue?”

  The yeoman shrugged. “You can talk to him about it when he comes down here. He wants to personally inspect the devices before they’re employed in the field.”

  Carol nodded. “That’s the best we can hope for.” She turned to storage locker and pulled out the sealed signal generator. “Let’s make sure this thing is charged and working before he gets here.”

  Simon tested the door on the minivan and cursed when he found no keys. “Tell me that somebody abandoned a damned car and left the keys in it. Somewhere there has to be a decent car.”

  He paused and stared at the eastern horizon. The palest glow of the rising sun shot waves of relief through him. “Come on you big yellow bastard. Get your ass up and run these man eating monsters back underground.”

  He turned and walked to the next vehicle, an ancient mini-pickup from the 70s. “What the hell is a Luv?” He snorted as he poked his head in the window. “Looks like a wind-up toy.”