Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here Read online

  He reached around the steering wheel and felt the keys dangling from the ignition. “Well, son of a bitch. One. One fucking car with the keys in it.”

  He pulled the door open and slid behind the wheel. “Jeezus…I’ve got shoes bigger than this thing.” He pushed the clutch in and held the brake as he twisted the key. The engine barely turned before the starter solenoid began to click.

  “Mother…” He paused and stared at the little truck. “Maybe I can push it?”

  He wiggled the gear shift to ensure it was in neutral then hopped out of the truck. “Please start you little piece of…” He leaned into the cab and pushed. The little truck slowly began to roll, gravel crunching under the tires as it moved. He pushed harder, cresting a very brief high spot in the road and felt the truck gain speed as it started down the other side.

  Simon ran to keep up with the truck then jumped in behind the wheel. He shoved the gear shifter into third then popped the clutch. He felt the truck shudder before the engine turned over and the tiny four cylinder barked to life.

  He smiled to himself as he revved the engine and turned the wheel. “Finally. Something goes my way.”

  He drove the tiny pickup to where the SUV had given up on the side of the highway entrance ramp and parked beside it. He kept the engine running and set the parking brake before slipping out and transferring the boxes to the bed of the truck.

  “This is just sad.” He shook his head as he stacked the remaining boxes in the bed. “I can fit more shit in a damned car than in the bed of this truck.”

  He set the last box in the passenger seat and winced at just how much room it took up. “I need a actual truck.” He slammed the driver’s door then released the brake. “I need me a truck that ate its Wheaties growing up and became a REAL truck.” He revved the engine and eased the clutch out, feeling the Matchbox toy shudder under the added weight of the booze.

  “I need a truck with a real clutch is what I need.” Simon drove the vehicle slowly, watching the sun crest over the horizon. “With any luck, I can go car shopping again and find me something more befitting my stature.”

  He reached for the half-empty bottle and opened the cap with his teeth. “But first…breakfast!”

  Chapter 20

  Hatcher bent low and picked up the pieces of the rag doll. He quickly slipped it into a trash bag and rolled it up. He nodded to the sentry, who seemed more intent on watching the sun come up.

  He slipped back into his office and dropped the rag corpse into the trash. He’d rather do away with the evidence than upset a child finding the doll destroyed.

  He moved slowly, methodically, back to the chair, careful not to aggravate his bruised ribs. He would have sworn that the blows to his middle at least cracked a few, but Vicky was certain they were only bruised. Unfortunately for him though, bruised ribs took longer to stop hurting than broken ones.

  The treatment for both was the same. Wrap the area tightly and take an anti-inflammatory. Hatcher groaned as he sat in his office chair. He pulled the wool blanket up to his chest and slowly closed his eyes. Sleeping was easier to do sitting up than lying down. Besides, getting up from a horizontal position with a rib injury was nearly impossible.

  It had seemed as though he’d barely closed his eyes when the building came to life. He blinked awake and stared at the bodies flowing past as traffic through the main foyer picked up. A quick glance to the wall clock suggested that four hours had passed, but he honestly couldn’t see how.

  His door opened and Roger stepped in. “Ready to eat?”

  Hatcher shook his head. “Just coffee for me.”

  Roger nodded then reached for the coffee pot. “I’ll get this going for you.” He cast a furtive glance to the man. “You sleep in here last night?”

  Hatcher yawned. “If you want to call it sleep.” He sat up slowly in his chair. “It hurts too much to lay down.”

  Roger stepped back from the coffee pot and let it do its thing. He turned back to Hatcher and sat across from him. “I want to bounce something off you.”

  Hatcher raised a brow. “Just don’t bounce it off my ribs.” He smiled at his weak attempt at humor.

  “Candy had this idea last night and I kind of like it. I thought I’d run it by you first.” Hatcher gave him a curious stare, willing him on. “She said there’s a shop across town that dealt with all kinds of off the wall stuff…including ham radios.” He waited while Hatcher’s mind processed the idea.

  “To what purpose?”

  “Well, the military tracked you down when they wanted a guide to the park. If we had radios, we might could call them back. Or find other survivors.” He shrugged. “It would be kind of nice to get a picture of what’s going on outside of these walls.”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

  Roger held his hands up. “That’s not to say that we’ll actually reach anybody; who knows who does and doesn’t have power, or the ability to convert batteries to wall power. It’s all one big shot in the dark.”

  Hatcher nodded, sitting more upright. “No, I get it. But it’s still a good idea.”

  Roger eyed him carefully. “We were discussing this outside Vicky’s place.”

  “And?”

  “Mike overheard. His dad was a big HAM radio guy.” Roger blew his breath out and gave Hatcher a knowing look. “He wants to go with us.”

  Hatcher’s eyes widened and he gave Roger a sidelong stare. “Is he up to it?”

  Roger shrugged. “Vicky says he needs to move around some but she thinks it’s too soon for something like this.”

  “Let me guess, he’s going stir crazy, isn’t he?”

  Roger shrugged. “I know I would be.”

  Hatcher stared into the shadows of his office, his mind considering all the possibilities. “Okay, talk to Vic. If she says he’s okay for a car ride, take him along. Limit his movement, though.” He looked up and gave him a cautious stare. “Take security. We can’t know where the Zulus are taking refuge from the sun.”

  Roger stood and poured Hatcher a quick cup of coffee. “We’ll be extra careful. As much as I’d love to hear how others might be doing, there’s no sense in taking unnecessary risks.” He set the cup in front of him. “I’m gonna grab a bite then let Candy and Mike know.”

  Hatcher watched the man step out of the office and sighed. He had to admit, it would be better for them to know what’s going on outside of Rio Rancho. He’d also like to know that Hollis’ sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

  He pushed away from the desk and carefully lifted the coffee. He made his way down the hall and to the infirmary. He caught Vicky walking into her office and got her attention. “How are our live-ins?”

  She sighed and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m guessing Roger told you that Mike wants out, come hell or high water?”

  He nodded. “I told him to restrict him to the vehicle. No unnecessary moving around.”

  She hiked a brow. “Good luck with that.” She leaned against the wall outside her door and snorted a short laugh. “He’s too big and too strong for me to impose my will upon, and Stella is the only one that can seem to get through to him. But I told him that we could wrap his middle much like we did yours. Maybe it will at least keep him from ripping his wounds open again.”

  Hatcher reached for the door and opened it for her. “And the other guy? What’s his name?”

  “He only said ‘Doug.’” She stepped in and pointed to the far corner. “He’s in there.”

  Hatcher lowered his voice. “Has he said anything else?”

  She shook her head. “Only that he didn’t want to be with Simon in the first place.”

  “Funny how he kept rejoining him, then.” He took a sip of his coffee then moved toward the door. “I’m gonna have a chat with him.”

  He pushed open the door and stepped inside the small recovery room. “Wakey-wakey. Time for the two of us to have a chat.”

  “I’d really like to get a variable
frequency device into the field first.” Broussard looked at the captain knowingly. “In the event that the virus mutated, we could narrow down the working frequency then simply record that sound to an endless loop and broadcast it.”

  The captain nodded slowly, his mind considering the options. “Do we have a variable frequency generator?”

  The tech shook his head. “Not currently sir, but we could easily create one. I could have one up and running by the end of the day.” He looked to Broussard. “With the doctor’s help, of course.”

  “Very well then. Let’s get the thing built and we can track which frequency is the most effective.” He looked to the two researchers. “Anything else?”

  Broussard was hesitant to respond. “Captain, I’d really like to accompany the field personnel on this mission—”

  The captain held up a hand. “Absolutely not.” He looked at both researchers sternly. “Of all of you science types, this is the first group to come up with a workable treatment. I’m not risking any of your lives for a jaunt onto the mainland.”

  Broussard held his hands up, hoping to interject. “It’s not simply to get away from the ship, Captain. It would further our research immensely if I could observe the subjects both before and after the application of the treatment.”

  The captain shook his head. “We’ll have cameras installed. I can’t have you put at risk.”

  Carol lifted her hand slowly and Broussard gave her a wide eyed stare. “Captain, I’ve…been exposed to the treatment. If it actually works, then the risk is minimal to me. I’d like to volunteer for the mission to make those observations.”

  The captain’s eyes widened and he stared at the two researchers. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

  Broussard cleared his throat. “We, um, actually verified that it was our version of the cure just moment before you arrived. We couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t a common form of strep.” He averted his eyes and the captain stiffened.

  “I really don’t like being kept out of the loop. Especially with something as important as this.” He glared at the two and Carol stepped forward.

  “Sir, it was a complete accident, however, and please try to understand, once this treatment of ours is released full-scale into the environment, then everybody…every single person on the planet, will eventually become exposed to it.” She inhaled deeply and gave him a moment to comprehend her words. “It was inevitable that somebody aboard the ship would be exposed; it was only by accident that it happened to be me.”

  “Accidents, huh? That means any one of us could have been exposed. If there was even the slightest chance, then I should have been made aware.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

  “Understood, sir. And in the future, if there are any circumstances that we question, you will be the next to know.”

  Captain Proctor uncrossed his arms and glanced at the yeoman. “Prepare the insertion teams. Keep tabs on the ETs working on the generator.” He paused and glanced at Carol. “And get these two geared up for insertion as well.” He turned his full attention on the two researchers. “I’m giving direct orders to that chopper pilot to put you two in the safest, highest, most isolated location possible. If need be, we’ll give you field glasses and you can observe from a distance. You are not, and I repeat, NOT to interact with any of the infected for any reason.”

  Broussard stifled his smile and nodded quickly. “Thank you, sir.”

  Captain Proctor stepped forward and waved a finger in their faces. “I’m giving you fair warning now…if you come into contact with any of the Zeds, even if you aren’t bitten or scratched or even touched, I’m giving explicit instructions to leave your asses behind.”

  Carol’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off. “I’m not risking anybody on this ship. Period.”

  She closed her mouth and nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  “Get that generator going and the yeoman will get you geared up.” He paused at the door and gave them both a knowing look. “Good luck. I hope you get the results you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Broussard stated as the man walked away.

  Simon cruised the Luv through the car lot and eyed numerous vehicles that might suit his needs. He slowed at another SUV and cocked his head. “The last one worked pretty good.” He put the truck in neutral then stepped out from the cab, the ancient door creaking on its hinges.

  He looked through the window and sighed. He kept glancing back at the pathetic thing, comparing the two. He slid back into the seat and held the door open with his leg. He tilted the bottle back again and closed his eyes. Images of his wife and best friend kept creeping back to the front of his mind and he was reaching a point where even alcohol couldn’t blind him from them.

  He cursed and threw the bottle against the windshield of the SUV, showering the vehicle in amber alcohol.

  Simon squeezed his eyes closed and pulled the door shut, slamming it. He revved the engine and pushed the little truck into first gear, actually spinning one rear tire slightly as he drove off.

  “Fuck this noise. I can get a car anywhere.” He turned the truck down another side street and certain shops came into view, looking familiar. He sat up, his mind clearing for just a moment. “Hey…I know where I am.”

  He laughed to himself as he upshifted the transmission and pushed through the intersection where he’d been chased by the Ragers. He slowed the truck and stared out the window to the alcove where he’d watched the pair of Ragers eat somebody’s leg.

  There were scraps of clothing and brown smears on the sidewalk, but no sign of either the monsters that made the mess or the person they ate. He downshifted and pushed through the intersection. As he drove back to the housing addition, he wondered, certainly the Cagers wouldn’t expect him to return? Surely they’d think him smart enough to stay away now that they knew where he’d been staying.

  Wouldn’t they?

  He drove up to the gates of the addition and his hand instinctively reached for a bottle in the box next to him. He popped the seal and unscrewed the cap. He eyed the housing addition carefully as he took a long pull on the bottle. He sighed heavily as he screwed the cap back on. He ran a hand over his stubbly face then slapped the truck into gear, easing the clutch as he turned the wheel toward his old neighborhood.

  He watched the gates creep by as he slowly drove up the hill and through the winding streets. When he reached the cul-de-sac where his house sat and he stopped the truck, his eyes searching the street for any signs of life. He glanced ahead and spotted another house that sat even higher than the one he’d claimed as home.

  Rather than turning right into the cul-de-sac, Simon eased the truck straight and went to the furthest house. He stared at the building and nodded. “Right around the corner, but completely different. Even if they come back looking for me, surely they won’t go house to house…” He wiped at his mouth then took another drink from the bottle.

  “I guess that settles it. I’m moving.” He sniffed loudly and hocked a loogie, spitting it out the window. “Better pack my shit and get ready to go.”

  He knew he’d have to clear the house before he could move in, but he was almost certain that it was empty, or nearly so.…maybe he could find another female Rager. Maybe there’s one hiding inside. He chuckled to himself at the thought. “Maybe I won’t be so quick to shoot the next one.”

  Chapter 21

  Hatcher leaned back in the chair and eyed the scruffy little man. “We have razors.”

  Shooter nodded slowly, his eyes glued to the floor. “The nurse offered me one.”

  Hatcher sipped his coffee. “Hungry?”

  Shooter shrugged slightly. “I could eat.”

  “Talk to me and I’m sure we can have breakfast brought in.” He glanced over his shoulder and Vicky gave him a subtle nod before turning to leave. He turned back to the man gripping the edge of his bed tightly. “Why’d you come back? I mean, you were here, then you left and
rejoined Simon…that doesn’t make much sense to me.”

  Shooter sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I get nervous around people. I just wanted out…” He swallowed hard and continued to stare at the floor. “Simon found me.”

  “And you just fell right back in with the gang, huh?”

  Shooter shook his head slightly. “I tried to kill him.” He finally glanced up at Hatcher. “I missed.”

  Hatcher raised a brow at him. “You tried to kill Simon and he let you live?” He shook his head at the man. “I may not know Simon like you do, but that doesn’t seem likely.”

  Shooter shrugged. “He ran me over with a truck. Knocked me out. When I came to, he gave me a choice…join or die.”

  “So you rejoined the team.” Hatcher ignored the pain and crossed his legs, attempting to get more comfortable in the stiff backed chair. “And Simon just accepted you.” It was more a statement than a question.

  Shooter nodded slightly. “I had to prove myself but…yeah.” He looked up with red eyes. “I didn’t like being anywhere near him.” He sniffled slightly and gave him an awkward shrug. “Sinner made things tolerable.”

  “That’s your friend that the Zulus got?”

  Shooter nodded. “We were escaping. Tried to take our bikes, and his wounds began to bleed. Like I said, I rode back for the car and by the time I got back…” he choked on his words. “It was too late.”

  Hatcher sipped his coffee and nodded, believing him. “And you came to us.”

  Shooter nodded. “Sinner wanted to bail. Hit the road. I convinced him that your people had resources. Maybe help him to get healed up good. Then if he still wanted to leave, we could split.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “How’d your buddy get hurt?”

  Shooter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The night that Simon led the Ragers to your warehouse, somebody shot at the truck and Sinner caught one in the shoulder.” His jaw quivered as he spoke. “I never even knew his real name. Just the stupid nickname that Simon gave him.” He looked up at Hatcher. “He died because I left him behind. If I’d just stayed with him…”