Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here Read online

  “Then you’d both be dead.” Hatcher set the coffee down and gave him a solemn look. “You said he was bleeding out, right? You needed a car to transport him. There was little else you could do.”

  Shooter shook his head. “If I’d waited…until he was healed better.” He took another deep breath and fought back the sobs. “I never had many friends, but he was as close as they came.”

  “And you knew Trevor?”

  Shooter gave him a surprised look. “I only knew people by the nicknames Simon gave them. We weren’t allowed to use our given names.”

  Hatcher gave him a confused look. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Shooter shrugged again. “It was all Simon. He couldn’t remember people’s real names but he could remember the nicknames he gave them.” He looked away again, his eyes focusing on the floor. “When he first scooped me up, he didn’t give me a name. I was just ‘you little fucker’ or some such. But after I left your warehouse, he started calling me Shooter.”

  “Because you tried to kill him?”

  Shooter shrugged again. “I guess.” He sighed heavily and cocked his head to the side. “Is Trevor Stinky?”

  Hatcher gave him a questioning look. “He was pretty clean when I met him.” He leaned closer and gave him a questioning look. “He has a little girl with him. A Zulu.”

  Shooter’s eyes widened. “He’s dragging a Rager around with him?”

  Hatcher nodded. “A little girl. She actually listens to him. She’s…tame, for a lack of a better word.”

  Shooter gave him a wide eyed stare. “Unless he found her after he left then I don’t….” He suddenly stopped and his mouth hung open.

  “What?”

  Shooter swallowed hard again. “Simon…he did something really…bad…a house with a family.” He shrugged again. “Maybe Stinky found the girl there.”

  Hatcher decided not to pry. The man’s face had turned so pale that he felt it best to give him leeway. “Why come to us?”

  Shooter shrugged again. “Where else is there to go? I mean, I wanted out. Until I got out.” He looked up again and gave him a sad smile. “It’s all gone, man. Like…nothing left.”

  Hatcher nodded. “I’m sure it seems that way. But we are trying to rebuild here. Surely, somewhere else there are others.”

  Shooter shrugged. “I only hope we can outlast the Ragers.”

  Hatcher pushed up from the chair and gripped his coffee. “Yeah, me too.” He turned for the door just as Vicky appeared with a tray of food. “We’ll talk more later.”

  Broussard tugged at the straps and cinched the MOLLE vest tighter. “Is this really necessary? We’ll be placed somewhere out of the way. I don’t see how bullet proof material will help us if—”

  “SOP, doc. You want out there in the world, then you gear up.” The special operator supervising their readiness reached out and pulled the strap tighter. “Trust me, you can’t plan for every contingency, but the ones that we know are possible we ready ourselves for.”

  “The infected do not use firearms.” He gave the man a flat stare.

  “No, but if there are survivors out there? They could have weapons and you don’t want to take the chance that they’re a bad shot. Or a good one, if they’re hostile.” The operator turned and inspected Carol’s gear. “It’s a long ride in the chopper. We’ll stop to refuel along the way but we won’t be making any pit stops. If you need to take care of…anything, now’s the time.”

  She shook her head. “I’m good to go.”

  He checked her straps then gave her a thumbs up. “Load up.”

  Broussard and Carol fell into step behind the black-clad men. She caught a glimpse of a sailor pulling the fill hose back and coiling it from the tanks strapped under the dual bladed helicopter. “Tanks are full?”

  “That’s affirmative, ma’am.” The operator held the door for her while she climbed aboard. “We’ve been informed that if this is successful, we’re to move on to the next target area.”

  She paused as he pulled the door shut. “You do realize that it will take some time to gather the infected to the site, right? They won’t come running, especially in daylight.”

  “Understood ma’am. We’ll give your device a few hours to gather what Zeds we can. Once the cure is applied to them, we’re moving on. We’ll leave it to them to pass it along their ranks.”

  She sighed and sat back, accepting the military’s solution. She knew that time was of the essence, especially if the treatment worked.

  “We should have enough of the spray stuff onboard to hit three sites,” the operator said as he settled in. “With any luck, we’ll be back by sunset.”

  Carol nodded and closed her eyes as the engines began to spool up and the blades spun faster overhead. “How safe are these things?”

  The operator smiled at her. “Safer than swimming to shore, ma’am.”

  She swallowed hard. “Maybe, but I can swim a lot better than I can fly.”

  Simon checked the ammunition in the pistol and tucked it into his waistband. He scooped up the shotgun and fed more shells into it. He racked a round on the 12-gage and marched out of the garage.

  It was a short two blocks to the new house he’d picked out. He huffed as he climbed the hill leading to the house and stood outside a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck me, I’m outta shape.” He walked slowly to the front door and pushed it open. “Anybody ready to die?” he called out.

  He shoved the door wide dramatically and stepped inside. The faint smell of death assaulted his nostrils and he turned his head slightly. “Great…I gotta shack up in a morgue.”

  He walked lazily through the house, keeping the shotgun at the ready. He cleared the kitchen and thought he remembered the house from the trash scattered in the floor. “Remind me to fire the maid. The lazy bitch is slacking in her duties.”

  He pushed open the door to the garage and poked his head inside. The smell of death was stronger in here and he nearly gagged. “Good grief.” He covered his nose with his nasty t-shirt, made his way to the garage door and quickly opened it, giving the garage a chance to air out.

  Sunlight flooded the gloomy interior and he saw a cat in an advance state of decay near the back door. “Poor scruffy.” He grabbed a scoop shovel from the wall and scraped the remains up. He opened the rear door of the garage and tossed the cat over the fence.

  Simon dropped the shovel near where the cat had been turning to soup and pushed his way back into the kitchen. He found an overturned box of baking soda, marched back out, and sprinkled the white powder over the liquid that had soaked into the concrete and the blade of the shovel. “Please work,” he pleaded as he emptied the box. “I’ve heard of nasty pussy but this one takes the cake.”

  He chuckled at his own joke as he snatched the shotgun and walked back through the house. “Olly olly oxen free!” he called out as he went room by room. “Come on you red-eyed bastards! Time to meet your maker.”

  He cleared the house room by room then walked back to the old house. Thankfully, it was nearly all downhill.

  He drove the pickup to the new house and backed into the garage then carried the booze into the kitchen, stacking the boxes neatly along the counters and the kitchen table. He sighed as he placed the last of the booze then drove back for his personal items.

  He snatched the boxes from along the wall of the garage and tucked them into the bed of the small truck. He made one final walk through of the house, making sure he had grabbed everything he might possibly need.

  Ensuring that his collection of naked selfies was loaded up neatly, he took the last of his things to the end of the street. He made sure to leave the garage open to the old house, just as it had been when he arrived. If the Cagers drove by looking for him, it should appear exactly as they left it.

  He backed into the garage, opting to leave the door open until the baked cat smell was less offensive. He crawled from the cab and walked out to the front of the house. He had a direct view to the
main gates of the addition and he could see the back yard of the old house. “Yeah, this will work just fine.”

  He snatched the rifle from the back of the truck and peered through the scope. If the Cagers came around to open the back door to his old house, he’d have them dead to rights. He quickly shouldered the rifle and marched through the front door. “Be it ever so crumble, there’s no place like home.”

  Chapter 22

  Hatcher yawned and tried to sit up in his chair. His ribs protested as he leaned forward and peered through the glass windows of his office. He could see the yellow-orange glow of the sunrise reflecting off of the foyer walls and knew it was time to start another day.

  He gripped the armrests and pushed upward, lifting himself heavily to his feet. He shuffled toward the coffee pot and flipped it on. There was still half a pot he could possibly salvage. “Waste not, want not.”

  “Hatch, come and take a look.” Roger seemed excited as he waved him out the door.

  “You been up all night?”

  “Most of it. But you need to see this.” He seemed excited as he ushered him down the hall. “We decided to use an extra supply closet.”

  “For what?”

  “Just look.” Roger pulled the door open and Candy wiped at her eyes. “All we need now are the antennas.”

  Hatcher stared at the stack of equipment. “Is that the radio you were talking about?”

  Candy nodded. “I know little to nothing about this stuff, so I grabbed everything I could find.” She shrugged. “Maybe one of the marauder refugees knows more?”

  “It’s stuffy in here.” Hatcher stepped back toward the hallway.

  “Yeah, we’re going to put a fan here by the radios to help keep them cool and circulate some air.” Candy pushed back from the stack and gave him a lopsided smile. “There’s a lot of cable that goes to the antennae so I thought maybe we could go through the wall instead of the ceiling. I wouldn’t want to cause it to leak.”

  Hatcher nodded as he stifled a yawn. “I admit, that looks pretty cool.” He leaned forward and stared at the set up. “Are you sure it all works?”

  Candy shook her head. “I have no idea. That’s why I grabbed everything we could find, parts, dials, these thingys…”

  “And you two stayed up all night to set this up?”

  Roger shrugged. “It wasn’t intentional. We wore Mike out on the trip and we hoped to have this set up by the time he recovered.”

  Hatcher stood upright and tried to stretch his back without putting too much strain on his ribs. “What do we need to do for the antenna?”

  Roger glanced to Candy and shrugged. She gave Hatcher a weak smile. “I was hoping maybe Will had some ideas. I’m sure that height helps, though.”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “Maybe we can set something up on top of the lookout?”

  Will cleared his throat behind the trio to get their attention. “Pardon my eavesdropping. One of the ladies said that you were working on a ham radio project and when I heard my name, I…” he trailed off with a shrug.

  “Okay Doc. What’s it going to take to make this work?” Hatcher asked.

  Will stepped into the closet and looked over the equipment. “Well, for starters, about half of this equipment isn’t for ham radio. But we can definitely use the amplifier.” He rubbed at his chin then stood up. “I’m guessing that you hope to reach others with this? The military don’t usually monitor these frequencies.”

  Hatcher nodded. “But is there a way to use it to contact the military? In case we need to?”

  Will bobbed his head back and forth as he considered. “It’s possible. But none of it will work without the proper antennas.”

  Roger stepped closer. “What do we need? I got rolls of cabling.”

  Will raised his brows. “We need height. Lots of it.” He turned to Candy. “Where did you find all this?”

  “There’s a supply store in town. I found an old phone book and there was an ad in the yellow pages.” She glanced to Hatcher. “I didn’t think anybody would raid it because they don’t have food or water there.”

  Will nodded. “Perhaps we can go back and see what else they might have. Surely if they sell radios they’ll have the necessary peripheral equipment.” He pointed to the stack of components. “We really should put these on a surge protector as well.”

  Hatcher looked to Roger. “Feel up to another road trip or would you rather catch some sleep?”

  Roger looked to Candy and smiled. “Let me grab some coffee and I’m good to go.”

  “There ya have it, Doc. I guess after breakfast you can raid the shop.”

  Candy seemed almost giddy as she came to her feet. She swooned slightly and sat back down. “Ooh, head rush.”

  “Easy there.” Roger held a hand out for her and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Just lack of sleep and too much excitement.” She stretched her neck then turned back to him. “While you’re in town, I’ll talk with the people here and see if anybody knows their way around this stuff.”

  Carol rolled when she stepped from the chopper and Broussard held a hand out to pull her to her feet. The pair waited while the chopper lifted away from the rooftop, their hands covering their faces from the flying bits of debris.

  “That’s exciting.” She wiped at her coveralls and brushed bits of detritus from her hair.

  Broussard hefted the canvas bag and walked toward the parapet of the building. The soldier assigned to them had already taken up position by the edge, the barrel of his rifle scanning the ground below.

  “Do you know where we are?” Broussard asked the man.

  “The city or the building?” The operator didn’t look up.

  “Both. Either,” he shrugged.

  “San Diego.” He shifted the rifle and scanned the other direction. “This is some hotel, I think. I’m not sure the name. I just know this is where I’m supposed to stand overwatch.” He lowered the rifle and gave Broussard a hard look. “Let’s get something straight. My job here is twofold. I have to protect you two, but I also stand lookout for land forces that have come in from every direction to help direct this shit storm.”

  Broussard gave him a confused shake of his head. “Land forces…”

  “They’ve called in troops from everywhere even remotely close to here. Army from L.A., Marines from Twentynine Palms, you name it.” He shouldered the rifle again. “Part of my job is to spot Zeds and report their location to Central. They’re tracking everybody’s movements.”

  Broussard held a hand up and backed away slowly. “We’ll just observe from over here.” He motioned to Carol and the pair moved farther down the roof. “I think it best to give him space.”

  “Agreed.” She gave the soldier a confused stare as they backed away. “He seems really intense.”

  Broussard nodded. “If he’s supposed to keep track of movement, then I wouldn’t want his job.” He gave her a slight grin. “I thought air traffic controllers had it rough, but this would be more like herding cats, oui?”

  “Not if the generator works.” She gave him a nudge. “Fingers crossed.”

  The soldier keyed his coms. “Go for sound bridge.”

  Broussard and Carol shot each other a confused look then leaned over the edge. They watched as a small team of men trotted out of the shadows and placed a series of boxes in the middle of the street.

  Papers and trash blew between the buildings as the men hurriedly opened the metal crates and began to set up the generator. As they ran cabling to the boxes another man pulled the bullhorn-shaped loudspeakers from the crates and mounted them to a tripod base.

  Broussard’s eyes scanned the area, looking for infected who might take notice of their work. When the men finished, they quickly broke away from the device and bolted to the safety of an armored truck.

  The soldier on the rooftop barked something into his mic and the device was activated. Broussard turned to Carol with a concerned look when the edge of the roo
f seemed to vibrate from the intensity of the sound wave. “Is it possible to be too loud?” he asked.

  Carol shrugged. “Maybe they decided to increase the volume to reach more parts of the city?”

  Broussard shrugged then gripped the edge of the roof, his eyes scanning below.

  The trio stood vigil on the rooftop for what felt like far too long. Broussard glanced at his watch then looked to Carol. “Perhaps the frequency is not correct?”

  She shook her head, a sadness forming in her eyes. “Or maybe we’re too late?”

  He gave her a confused look. “For what?”

  She smiled at him sadly. “Maybe they’ve starved to death?”

  “Contact!” the soldier barked, swinging his rifle to the far left. Broussard and Carol both gripped the edge and peered over again.

  A lone figure came staggering from the shadows, its face slack and its movement jerky as it stumbled toward the generator. Broussard stared as the creature made its way up the street and stop short of the generator. It seemed to sway as if listening to some unheard song.

  “This is taking too long,” the soldier barked.

  Broussard turned to him and pointed to the Zed below. “You saw how slowly it was moving. If there are others scattered about the city, it will take them time to come.” He pulled himself to his feet then brushed the dirt and gravel from his pants. “We should make ourselves comfortable and wait. Once more arrive, the military can spray them and the treatment will effectively be applied.” He looked at the soldier and gave him a smile. “Consider this a success. The generator works and the frequency it is set to appears correct. We can begin creating more for deployment.”

  The soldier lowered his rifle and muttered something into the mic. He turned back to Broussard and shook his head. “This is taking entirely too long. How are we supposed to apply this so called ‘cure’ to the whole country? One city block at a time?”