Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here Page 5

  Simon glared at Shooter then slowly smiled. “Well, he’s right. I am a sick, twisted, pervert.” He punched the little man in the arm. “But don’t knock that Rager pussy ‘til you’ve tried it.”

  Shooter felt the bile rise in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it back down. As Simon leaned back in the seat and stared out the window, he turned and glared at Sinner.

  Sinner gave a slight shake of his head, reassuring him. He sat back in the back seat and watched Simon.

  He didn’t put the knife away.

  Trevor shook with panic as he watched the two men climb aboard the bulldozer and slowly roll forward. They didn’t go far. They turned the dozer into a garage just a few buildings away.

  He slowly opened the door of the RV and motioned to Patricia to stay put. “I’ll be back shortly. You stay in here and out of sight.”

  She whimpered and reached for him but he waved her away. “The sun is out and I have to fix the tire.” He motioned to her to stay. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  Trevor stared toward the garage then turned his attention to the front wheel. He got down on the ground and slid under the front. “Dammit. Dammit, dammit to hell.”

  He pulled himself out by the bumper and sat on the curb. “We are so fucked.”

  “What’s wrong?” At the voice, Trevor panicked again and reached for the rifle. “Whoa…whoa!” Hank stepped aside, his hands in the air. “I’m sorry man. I just feel responsible for…this.”

  “The goddam axle is broke.” He jabbed the gun in Hank’s direction. “It’s not just a flat tire.”

  “Easy man, easy.” Hank rubbed at his jaw. “Look, we’re working in that garage. I doubt they’d have an axle to fit this thing, but maybe we can weld something.”

  Trevor shook his head nervously. “I’ll just get a different ride. Transfer all of our stuff to it.”

  Hank nodded quickly. “That’s a great idea, man. Seriously.” He swallowed hard and pointed back the way they had come. “We brought a pickup out here to run for parts and stuff. We can give you a ride if you want.”

  Trevor jabbed the gun at him again and Hank held his hands in the air. “Look man, it’s a four door truck. The other guys can ride with us.”

  Trevor shook his head. “No, she can’t be out in the sun.”

  Hank gave him a cautious stare. “She?” He rubbed at his chin. “‘She’ who?”

  “My daughter. She’s light sensitive.”

  Hank nodded slowly. “The back windows are tinted. He slowly lowered his hands. “Look man, I feel horrible about all of this.” He shrugged slightly. “And for just dumping y’all out along the side of the road.”

  “That other guy was in charge. And we were being shot at, so…”

  Hank nodded. “Tell me where you want to go and I’ll take you. You can leave your daughter with Wally if you—”

  “No!” Trevor’s hands began to shake. “She goes with me. I don’t trust men around her.”

  “O-okay. I get that.” He glanced back toward the garage and Wally standing outside the door with a large wrench in his hand. “Wally wouldn’t hurt a fly. He looks mean, but…that’s okay. You and me and your daughter…I’ll take you to find another ride.”

  Trevor nodded slowly. “Go get that truck.” He jabbed the rifle at him again. “But know that I’m watching you.”

  Hank nodded and turned around. “Their rig is FUBAR. I’m gonna take the truck and help them find another ride.”

  Wally rolled his eyes and tossed the wrench to the ground. “And who’s supposed to fix this damned thing? Just me?”

  Hank held a hand up. “We won’t be long. I promise.”

  Wally threw his hands into the air. “Fine! Go.”

  Chapter 6

  Hatcher swallowed his fourth cup of coffee and grimaced. “What’s wrong?” Candy asked as she slid in next to him.

  Hatcher gave her a sour face. “Penance. For drinking too much.”

  Candy leaned forward and stared at his cup. “Coffee? Not much of a penance.”

  Hatcher swallowed down the last of it and shivered involuntarily. “It is when it’s the bottom of the pot, hours old, and no cream or sugar.”

  Candy made a face back at him. “That sounds like it would eat a hole in your gut.”

  Hatcher nodded and poured the last few drops into his cup. “It does.” He tossed it back then rubbed at his temples. “But it serves me right for drinking rotgut like it was going out of style.”

  Candy stood and dumped the abundance of grounds from the drip maker and stuffed another filter into the basket. “Let me make some good stuff.”

  “I won’t stop you.” He held a hand up then leaned back in his chair. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  She shrugged. “Just checking on you.” She measured the grounds and dropped them into the filter. “I hear you and Buck had a chat.”

  Hatcher snorted. “If by ‘chat’ you mean I got my ass chewed by a teenager, then yeah. We had a very pleasant talk.”

  She dumped the water into the back then slid the pot on the hotplate. “Cut him some slack, Hatch. Like you said, he’s just a kid.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “No, he’s a man. A young man, but still a man.” He sighed heavily. “And I can’t fault a man when he’s right.”

  Candy raised a brow at him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I need to step up or get the hell out of the way.”

  She sat down gently and eyed him carefully. “You’re not quitting…”

  He shook his head. “Not anytime soon.” He popped open the aspirin bottle and shook out two more of the bitter white tablets. “Once I get my head cleared, I intend to do what all of you have been pleading with me to do.”

  “Stop fretting over shit you can’t do anything about?”

  “You might call it that.” He leaned forward and narrowed his gaze at her. “I call it getting mad.”

  She eyed him cautiously. “Mad?”

  He nodded slowly. “I had to do some serious soul searching, but I figured out that’s the main difference between then and now.” He jabbed the top of his desk with his finger. “Then? I wasn’t just mad, I was pissed. The world had gone to hell on my turf, on my watch and because I called in the military.”

  “Hatch…I was there, remember? You did what needed to be done.”

  “No. Even if the outbreak hadn’t been contained, eventually ‘we the people’ would have gotten the upper hand.”

  She gave him a sour look. “You can’t believe that. Our own military couldn’t do that.”

  “They made it worse. When Vickers blew up the mountain, he sent that virus into the upper atmosphere and it was carried all over the world.”

  “Still, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

  “I do. And for much more.” He held a hand up to stop her. “But all of that? It made me mad. Madder than hell.”

  She nodded slowly. “Then what happened?”

  “I went from pissed to worrying about everybody. I wasn’t seeing the long game. The end result.”

  “And you think being mad now will change your attitude?”

  He nodded slowly. “I know it will. I just had to find my anger and let it grow until it quashed the worry.”

  Candy sighed heavily. “I sincerely hope you’re right.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  Kevin sat up and wiped at his eyes. “What time is it?”

  Broussard closed his book and sat forward, his arm coming up to reflect the time. “You’ve only been asleep a few hours. Lay back, rest.”

  Kevin swung his legs off the edge of the mattress and shook his head. “I’m not tired.” He stretched and came to his feet. “Actually, I feel like a new man.”

  Broussard sighed slowly and motioned him to sit. He took his vitals again then looked at his throat. “Remarkable.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No sign of it. No redness at all. No drainage…”

 
; “I told ya. I feel fine.” He sat back on the mattress and eyed the older man. “But the captain isn’t going to allow me to leave yet, will he?”

  Broussard shrugged. “I’ll send word through the yeoman.” He stood and tucked his book under his arm. “In fact, I’ll go now and let him know.”

  Broussard went immediately to the lab and caught Carol in the middle of loading the next batch into the incubator. “He’s recovered completely.”

  She turned and gave him a surprised look. “Are you certain?”

  Broussard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Who could be, under these circumstances? But…by all accounts, his symptoms are gone.”

  “He’s asymptomatic?” She set the tray down carefully and gave him a subdued smile. “Have we truly done it?”

  Broussard shrugged again. “One can only hope.”

  She nodded enthusiastically then nodded toward the door of the incubator. “Hold that, please.” She slid the tray inside then sealed the door. “We need to let the captain know that we’re ready. If we can get the other ships that have labs to get started on making more of the strep, we can be ready for field trials much sooner.”

  “Agreed.” Broussard pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. “Don’t forget that Dr. McAlester is waiting for word from the captain to be released.” He gave her a knowing look.

  She nodded gently. “I’ll let him know shortly.”

  Broussard marched toward the yeoman’s office while Carol finished transferring the trays. She paused for a moment and squeezed her eyes shut. “We did it, Vivian. God help us, we did it.”

  Simon stared at the old semi, its trailer sitting at an angle. “I don’t know if there’s enough fuel in that tanker to do what needs doing.”

  Shooter poked his head up from under the hood of the old Kenworth. “I know we’ll at least need batteries. Beyond that…it’s anybody’s guess.”

  Sinner leaned against the hybrid car and watched the pair climb over the dead tractor. “We don’t have to use gas, ya know.”

  Simon’s head popped up. “What do ya mean?”

  Sinner pushed off the small car and walked forward, his shoulder throbbing as he stepped. “Before 9/11, what was the worst terrorist act on US soil?”

  Simon gave him a confused look. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Sinner slapped the side of the tanker. “Remember the Oklahoma City bombing? Some asshole makes a bomb using fertilizer and some diesel. Packs it into a U-Haul and blows up half the federal building.”

  Simon’s eyes widened with excitement. “Hell yeah.” He nodded to Shooter. “Help me find a U-Haul.”

  Sinner reached out and took him by the shoulder. “You want something bigger than a U-Haul.” He glanced over Simon’s shoulder at the semi. “If we could find a box trailer…”

  Simon’s smile widened. “Now you’re talking.” He snapped his fingers.

  Shooter brushed his hands off on his pants. “Wait. You can still stop a semi…any semi.” He shook his head as he stepped closer. “They could shoot out the tires, blow a hole in the radiator…”

  “So, what? Another damned dozer?” Simon shook his head at the smaller man. “I’d rather take my chances with the old Kenworth.”

  Shooter glanced down the street then back to the pair. “I don’t reckon any of you have seen a Greyhound bus around, have you?”

  Simon gave him a curious stare. “Planning on taking a vacation?”

  Shooter shook his head. “No, look…buses have their engines in the back. The radiators aren’t in front. Even if they shot it with a fifty cal, they ain’t gonna stop a bus.” He gave the pair a crooked smile. “Those damned Greyhounds? I’ve seen one blow a tire and it drove on for another three-quarter mile before the driver ever even pulled over.”

  Simon raised a brow and glanced to Sinner. “You seen any buses?”

  Sinner shook his head then gave the pair a knowing smile. “But I know where we can get something that’s damn near the same thing.”

  “Do tell.”

  Sinner broke into a toothy grin. “And it will smell a lot nicer too.”

  “Don’t hold back ya big bastard. Tell me.”

  Sinner pointed down the street. “Aloha. They got all kinds of buses that are converted to RV’s.”

  Simon gave him a confused look. “A what?”

  “They’re like band buses. You know, for when the Stones go on tour? They convert a bus into a rolling house then sell them for a half million bucks to rock stars and lawyers and politicians and shit.”

  Simon glanced to Shooter who shrugged. “They’re the same thing basically. Should work the same.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go get us one of them Stones’ buses and fill it with fertilizer.” He practically pushed the men back toward the car. “Onward, James.”

  “So, I’m Hank.” Trevor continued to stare out the window, Patricia tucked under his arm. Hank squirmed. “What’s your name?”

  Trevor nodded toward the street. “Drive.”

  “I am driving.” Hank gave him a grin. “Look, man, I told you I was sorry for causing you to go off the road. If we can’t find you another ride, maybe we can scavenge the parts to fix your rig.”

  Trevor blew his breath out hard and shook his head. “Look, I ain’t interested in making friends.” He glanced down at Patricia’s bald head under her hood. “A couple of nights ago, yeah. I would have just about killed to find you people again.” He pulled her closer. “We were about done in.”

  “What happened?”

  Trevor’s eyes were filled with anger. “We found food. Now just drive the damned truck.”

  Hank nodded slowly and turned his eyes back to the road. “You know, there’s plenty of room where we are.”

  “Not for us,” Trevor deadpanned.

  Hank glanced in the rear view mirror again. “I don’t know why you’d say that. We got other kids there. She’d fit right in. Even if she can’t be in the sun, we got—”

  “I said DRIVE.”

  Hank stiffened and turned his eyes back to the road. “I was just saying…”

  He turned on his blinker out of habit and pulled the truck into the lot. “This is the place, right?”

  Trevor nodded. “Keep your eyes peeled for Ragers. We ran into a group earlier.”

  “During the day?” Hank whistled low. “They must be desperate. I haven’t seen a Zulu out in daylight in a long time.”

  Trevor stepped out of the truck and tucked Patricia under his jacket to shield her. He quickly made his way to the shop and ran her into the corner. “You stay in here. Stay in the dark and wait for me.” He stared into her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

  Trevor stepped back out of the shop and into the harsh light of day. “I’ll find the keys for another one. It will be a lot easier to just siphon the gas from ours instead of trying to fix the front axle.”

  Hank shook his head. “Man, I really am sorry.”

  “So you said.” Trevor kicked open the door to the sales office and leveled the rifle. “Ollie ollie oxen free. Come and get some hot lead you fuckers.”

  He stood still and strained his ears, listening for any sounds of movement. He finally let out the breath he was holding and stepped into the office, his feet crunching on the broken glass. He pushed open the manager’s door and pulled the pegboard from the wall. He snatched a handful of keys that were on either side of the class C coach he had stolen earlier then stepped out into the sun again.

  He held the keys up and walked toward the RVs. He found the inventory number on the first one and rifled through the keys. “Damn it.” He walked to the next one in line and compared them to the keys as well.

  “It might go faster if you pick the one you want first.” Hank gave him a grin.

  “Mind your business, fucktard.” Trevor pushed past him and read the number off of the next one. He pulled the key out of the pile and dropped the others to the ground. “A fucking Mercedes. Who tur
ns an import into a camper?”

  He slid the key into the lock and opened the door. With a quick twist, the engine slowly cranked then barked with life. He smiled broadly and pulled the transmission into D then maneuvered the coach across the lot and into the shop.

  He hopped from the cab and clapped his hands at Patricia. “Come on baby girl. We’re going.” He glanced back toward Hank. “Again.”

  He got her situated in the back and wished like hell he had the time to create bars for the windows. He climbed back into the cab and nearly jumped when Hank appeared at the window.

  “What?”

  “You want to follow me back or…you remember the way?”

  “Of course I remember,” he glared at the man, “but…I’ll follow you.”

  Hank nodded and turned back for his truck.

  Trevor pulled the camper through the shop and back around to the lot. As he approached the pickup a reflection of sunlight caught his eye.

  He stared in amazement as a small hybrid car pulled in, blocking their exit. He felt his blood run cold when Simon stepped out of the passenger side.

  Chapter 7

  Hatcher continued to drink coffee and walk slowly through the courtyard. He could still feel the effects of the alcohol in his system as he checked each guard station. He motioned Roger over. “Send a team out. I want more of those scaffolds set up on each wall.”

  Roger gave him a curious look. “We got two stations on each wall and two men in the lookout. That should be plenty.”

  Hatcher raised a brow at him. “It wasn’t a request.” He turned and marched toward the guard tower leaving Roger in a cloud of confusion. “What’s your line of sight from there?”

  The larger of the two men shrugged. “About a hundred yards in any direction. Inside of that and our own buildings block our view.”