Caldera | Book 12 | Kingdom Come Page 3

  “The valley?” Carol asked.

  “Of the five options available, they chose the Salinas Valley in California. It’s a hub for agriculture and there are plenty of technical resources that—”

  “Excuse me again,” Broussard interrupted, holding his hand up. “But we are quite happy here.”

  “Be that as it may,” Major Newsome began, obviously perturbed, “you are being relocated.”

  “Why?” Carol asked.

  The Major inhaled deeply and glanced to Lieutenant Davis. “Are they always like this?”

  Davis barely shrugged. “Their questions seem warranted, sir.” He finally turned and looked the major in the eye. “The president did assure them that they could allocate this facility and we were promised a nuclear reactor for power.”

  The major slowly shook his head, his eyes boring holes into the subordinate officer. “You have twenty-four hours to be packed up and on the road. Any who wish to accompany me can pack their personal belongings and be prepared to leave within the hour.”

  He spun on his heel and marched back outside. Lieutenant Davis sighed and lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Did he tell you what’s going on?” Carol asked.

  “Why are they doing this?” Broussard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Surely there is a reason other than just to ‘do it because I said so.’”

  Davis glanced at the retreating officer then turned to face the two. “They want you to weaponize the virus.”

  Veronica startled awake and Darla nearly jumped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Veronica sat up and wiped at her eyes, her body aching. “You didn’t scare me, I just…” She looked up at her. “Is he okay? What’s wrong?”

  Darla stepped aside and held the door open. “I think you should check him. He doesn’t look right.”

  Veronica pushed past her and all but ran to the table where Simon still lay, stretched out. She took one look and knew that he was dangerously low on blood. “He’s pale.” She pressed her hand to his face and suddenly remembered the dried blood splattered across her skin. “He’s cold. Clammy.” She fell into the chair next to him and sighed heavily. “He needs blood.”

  “Okay then, we give him some.”

  She looked up at her with reddened eyes. “I have no idea what his type is.” She ground her teeth as she stared at him. “A simple ten dollar test kit could tell me but…” She glanced back at her. “I don’t have one.”

  Darla’s face fell and she placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Too bad we couldn’t just…” She paused and a slow smile began to form. “Aren’t there people who can donate to anybody? Like, a universal donor?”

  Veronica nodded. “There are, but it’s still not the best option.”

  “It may be our only option.” She came to her feet. “What blood type is universal?”

  “O-negative.” Veronica narrowed her eyes at her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going door to door to see if anybody is that blood type.” She nodded towards Simon. “Get him ready. You can siphon from the donor and pour it down him.”

  “It doesn’t really work that way but…” She slowly came to her feet and began to dig through her medical supplies. “I’ll get things set up. You find out if anybody can help.”

  Darla disappeared through the door while Veronica tore through her trailer. She had the proper needles, she just didn’t have the sterile tubing. She was still pulling drawers out when her front door swung open. She turned and saw a line of people waiting.

  “We have to have O-negative. Unless I can find a way to type him—”

  “I’m O-negative,” Jody stated as he stepped into the trailer.

  “So am I,” an older woman stated from behind.

  “Tell me what to look for,” another man spoke up from outside. “I’m willing to go into town and find what you need.”

  Veronica felt a wave of gratitude hit her and her legs went weak. She supported herself on the counter and gave them a soft smile. “I need sterile tubing, to begin with.”

  Jody glanced to the empty saline IV bag. “What about that?”

  Veronica stared at it for a moment then slowly nodded. “I can make that work.”

  She snatched the bag from the couch and reached for her scissors. “Have a seat beside him.” She cut the tubing then reached for the needles. “We need to be quick.”

  She glanced back through the front door at the man offering to find necessary supplies. “Try the larger drug stores; the ‘At Home Test Kits’ area where they keep the home drug tests and diabetes tests. We need a blood-type kit.”

  “Yes ma’am. As quick as I can.”

  She watched him disappear then turned back to Jody. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried anything like this. There’s a chance I might hurt you.”

  He held his arm out. “If it can save Simon, do it.”

  Jedidiah stood in front of the mirror and pulled his long, white hair back, slipping an elastic band around it, forming a pony tail. He tugged at his starched white shirt and ensured it was properly tucked in before slipping the black suspenders over his shoulders and aligning them perfectly.

  He leaned close to the mirror and gently tightened the skin of his face, ensuring that his shave was smooth and that no nicks dared redden the white of his shirt.

  He turned and retrieved the black long coat from the back of the chair and slipped it over his shoulders, tugging at the lapels, ensuring the edges were crisp.

  He smiled at his reflection and glanced down to his lapel, flicking a tiny piece of white lint from the otherwise perfect black garment. He brought the middle together and buttoned the coat before retrieving his flat-brimmed hat and placing it exactingly on his head, ensuring the front edge sat perfectly level with his brow.

  He stood back and squared his shoulders, studying his reflection. As a soldier of the Lord, he had to be sure that he reflected perfection to any who might behold him.

  “It is time.”

  He spun on his heel and marched out of the manager’s office. He trod down the stairs and pulled open the doors to the theater. “Gentlemen! The time is nigh!”

  He stepped back and held the door open as his soldiers streamed out and formed up in the lobby. Once the lobby was full, he released his grip on the door and waded through the foul monsters. He stood upon the counter and held his hands high in the air. “Today we confront the enemy and show them just how mighty we truly are. They will see the face of the Lord in our strength, and, God willing, they will see that their resistance to His plan is…” he paused and fought back his smile, “futile.”

  He stepped down from the counter and pushed through the army. Once outside he waited while his men fell into step behind him then marched to fulfill his destiny.

  4

  “We’re making a supply run.”

  Hatcher turned weary eyes towards Roger. “What supplies could we possibly need that we’d risk going into town? Did you forget what happened at the retirement village?”

  Roger fought the urge to become defensive. “The armorer says we could really use ammunition. We need 556 and 9MM the most.”

  Hatcher loosed a long sigh and pushed up from the couch. “I reckon those would come in handy with what we’re about to face.”

  “I’ll come with,” Rich called from the rear of the house. “I just got off the horn with Larry. He’s relaying the message to Willie. We should hear back by tonight.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Roger asked as Hatcher reached for his jacket.

  “Their people are coming here to help us deal with Simon.” He pulled the jacket on and gave Roger a sideways glance. “IF it’s actually Simon we’re dealing with here.”

  “Who else would it be?” Roger asked as he held the door open. “He’s got a hell of a track record for it not to be him.”

  Hatcher stood in the garage and blinked at the empty driveway. “Where’s my tr
uck?”

  “You let Hank and Wally use it, remember?”

  Hatcher’s head fell and he slowly shook his head. “Sleep deprivation.”

  “We’ll take the half-ton,” Roger called over his shoulder. “It has a back seat.”

  Hatcher trudged towards the street and climbed in the passenger seat. “Forgive me if I catch a few on the way.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Roger offered. “I can get Buck to—”

  “No.” Hatcher sat upright and blinked his eyes rapidly. “Just swing through a drive through and get me a large coffee on the way.”

  Roger chuckled as he turned the key. “Right. I’ll take a venti caramel breve latte, too.”

  Rich slammed the rear door and slid to the middle of the seat. “Tell me more about this Simon guy.”

  As Roger pulled through the gates, Hatcher went over their first encounter. He detailed how they had been trying to get a woman who appeared immune to the CDC when Simon and his marauders attacked. “If it hadn’t been for the military showing up when they did…” he trailed off.

  “He sounds like a really nice fellow,” Rich sneered. “I wouldn’t mind catching him alone in a dark alley some night.”

  Roger snorted. “The fucker don’t fight fair. Your best bet would be to shoot him first then ask questions later.”

  Hatcher turned in the seat to face Rich. “The things he did to his own people…it’s enough to make you—” His words were cut off by Roger slamming on the brakes. “What the hell!”

  Hatcher spun in his seat and stared through the windshield. An obviously infected man stood in the middle of the street, staring them down.

  “Should I run him over?” Roger asked.

  Hatcher reached out slowly and gripped his arm. “The cure is in the air. It could be only a matter of hours before this guy is back amongst the living…if he’s even still infected.” Hatcher leaned forward and stared at him standing like a statue in the middle of the street. He reached for the door handle.

  “What are you doing?” Roger asked incredulously.

  “Playing a hunch.” Hatcher stepped from the cab and approached the front fender of the truck. “Are you okay?” he called out.

  The ragged looking, filthy man seemed to square his shoulders and slowly reached into the tattered remains of his coat. He pulled out a book and began to shake it at them, all while screaming and grunting at the trio.

  “What the hell is that?” Roger asked as he suddenly appeared at the front of the truck. “Is that a yellow pages?”

  “Beats me where he’d find one still in print,” Hatcher muttered. “He sure seems pissed about something.”

  Rich studied the creature for a moment and noted the long strands of stark white hair whisping out from under the battered old colonial style hat. “Was he on his way to a costume party when he got infected? He’s dressed like he just got off the zombie Mayflower.”

  “No telling,” Hatcher whispered. He stepped forward as the creature stopped screaming. “There’s a cure now! You just need time!” he called out.

  “I got him in my sights,” Roger whispered. He noted that one of the creature’s eyes was blood red and the other was solid white. “Ugly fucker, too.”

  The creature howled at them again then slowly turned a circle in the streets. Hatcher felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end just moments before other infected began to stream out from behind bushes and corners of buildings. Heads began to pop up over the ridge of house roofs and others stepped from the shadows. “Jeezus…”

  “There’s hundreds of them,” Rich moaned.

  “Maybe thousands.” Roger felt his guts tighten as all down the block more and more figures stepped out into the open. “We need to beat feet, Hatch. This is a no-win situation.”

  Hatcher turned for the truck and watched as Rich nearly dove into the rear seat. “Let’s move it, man!” Rich beat on the side of the door, willing Roger to move faster.

  Roger started the truck and squealed the tires backing away from the small army. His face was white as a sheet when he pulled the gear selector down into drive and turned away from the assemblage. He turned to Hatcher, his mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t think it was Simon that attacked the others.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Carol felt her blood run cold and her legs began to tremble.

  Andre wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulder and held her aloft. “I’m afraid he is, Chérie.” He turned to Davis. “Did the major actually say those words?”

  Lieutenant Davis slowly nodded. “He didn’t specifically tell me not to inform you so…” He trailed off. He suddenly stood straight and squared his shoulders. “You needed to know.”

  “Sacré bleu!” Andre fought the urge to punch the wall. “Do they have no idea what they are asking?”

  Davis narrowed his gaze at the pair. “This is the president. Of course he knows what he’s asking.” He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. “If I might make a suggestion?”

  “But of course.”

  “Tell them that there is too much crucial equipment to go back on the chopper. Play dumb with your associates and let them fly back if they want.”

  “To what end?” Andre asked, unsure of what he was suggesting.

  “Then load up a truck with all of the supplies you can and take off. Go east. Or north to Canada. Get as far away from the West Coast as you can.”

  Carol groaned and slid down the wall. “And what’s to stop them from tracking us down again?”

  Davis gave Andre a knowing look. “First things first. We remove the trackers from under your skin.”

  “The…I’m sorry. The what?” He stared at the smaller man in shock.

  Davis nodded slowly. “The inoculations they insisted you both have? Subdermal trackers.”

  Andre gave Carol a knowing look. “The bug bite. At the university lab. They activated it and it burned me.”

  She ground her teeth and came to her feet. “Fine. We’ll do what he says. First we remove the trackers, then we load up the important stuff and high tail it outta here.”

  Davis gave her a satisfied grin. “And I don’t want to know where you’re headed, either.”

  Andre reached for her hand. “Come, let us remove the devices. Then we’ll load the essentials into Molly.” He turned and faced Davis. “If it is acceptable with you that we take her?”

  Davis nodded, smiling. “She’ll be a good workhorse for ya, doc.” He extended his hand. “In case I don’t get to say goodbye.”

  “We’ll have time, oui?”

  Davis shrugged. “The major may want me to go back with him.” He gripped Andre’s hand. “If so, godspeed.”

  “And good luck to you as well, Lieutenant.”

  The pair watched him walk back to the doors and push out. Carol turned her face to Andre’s. “They risked too much to get it; I’m taking my Dr Pepper.”

  “His color is improving,” Darla whispered.

  Veronica nodded slowly. “Yes, but I fear he’s hemorrhaging inside.”

  “He’s got a leak?”

  She nodded slowly. “That’s the third donor.” She reached for the needle and slid it out from the woman’s arm, pressing a cotton ball to the puncture wound. She gave the donor a soft smile. “Thank you.”

  “You can take more if he needs it.”

  Veronica shook her head. “We can’t risk taking too much from the volunteers.” She removed the other needle from Simon’s arm and pulled a soft wrap over the wound. “Maybe once we have his type.”

  She fell back into the chair and stared at his still form. “He needs a real doctor.”

  “Vee, you are a real doctor,” Darla chastised.

  She shook her head. “He needs a trauma surgeon.”

  “You’re doing the best you can.” Darla stroked her hair as she sat beside her. “He’s going to make it.”

  “Not if the bleeding doesn’t stop.” Veronica leaned forward and cupped her face in her hands to hid
e the tears welling in her eyes.

  Darla walked the older lady to the door then shut it behind her. “We’ll have the test kit before you know it then I’ll find us donors that actually match him.” She suddenly stiffened then turned to Veronica. “Won’t the test show the O-negative donors too?”

  Veronica shook her head. “I took a small sample vial before we started.” She gave her a weak smile. “I had the same thought.”

  Darla collapsed into the chair across from her and sighed. “I feel like I could sleep for a week. I’m sure you’re even more tireder.”

  Veronica chuckled and nodded slowly. “My nerves are shot.” She stood slowly and stretched her lower back. “I could really use a shot of whisky and a four hour bubble bath.” She shot Darla a wink. “Then somebody to lift me from the tub and pour me into bed.”

  Darla nearly jumped when a bang echoed off the small door. She jumped to her feet and pulled the door open.

  “I brought em all.” The man dropped a box at the steps and looked up at the pair. “I hope this works.”

  Veronica rifled through the box and lifted out a test kit. “Thanks, Herman.” She pulled the top off of the package and slid the plastic tray out onto the counter. “We’ll know in twenty minutes.”

  Herman gave her a tight lipped smile then peered over Darla’s shoulder at Simon’s still form. “He gonna make it?”

  Veronica paused and turned to face the older man. “He could use a ton of prayer.” She glanced at Simon and felt her eyes well up again. “And a good trauma surgeon.”

  Jedidiah stood in the middle of the street that the angel had shown him. He directed his army to hide, and as the last of them slid into the shadows, he sighed, hoping his wait wouldn’t be long.

  He almost smiled to himself as the sound of a V-8 engine echoed off the buildings in front of him. When the four-door truck turned down the street he was on, he knew that the angel hadn’t let him down.