Caldera 8: Simon Sez

by Stallcup, Heath

  He barked something at the Rager that was supposed to be “Fuck you;” it sounded more like a muffled wet fart.

  Simon leveled the shotgun and squeezed the trigger, blasting the man through the midsection. The shotgun’s report caused most of the Ragers to jump, drop or cower, but none left the scene, their curiosity more than piqued.

  Simon watched the pipe drop to the filthy carpet and the Rager crumpled, his hands cupping his ruined midsection. The creature landed hard on his bony knees and stared at the blood and gore that coated his hands. He slowly looked up at the attacker and came eye to eye with the shotgun barrel.

  Simon pushed it closer, pressing the warm metal to the creature’s eye socket. He grunted something that was unintelligible as he pulled the trigger again.

  The backwash of bone, brains and blood smeared his aviators and Simon sighed as he stepped back and stared at the assembled crowd.

  He beat at his chest as he stared at each of them. He tilted his head back and howled, announcing to the world that he was the new leader of the pack.

  Simon stared at them with a grim satisfaction as they all slowly bent to their knees, their eyes averted. They knew who the alpha was now. And with his boomstick in hand, he had no doubt that they’d do exactly what he ordered them to do.

  Chapter 5

  Roger gently shook Hatcher’s shoulder and jerked back as Hatcher sat up suddenly, his eyes wide and his fists balled. “Who’s that?”

  Roger watched him blink rapidly for a moment or two then settle on him. “You awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

  Hatcher swung his legs off the narrow bed and rubbed at his eyes. “How long was I out?”

  “Not long enough, but they’re about to clear the chow line. I thought maybe you’d want to get a bite to eat before they shut down the kitchen.”

  Hatcher lifted his head and stared him, his eyes blinking but the gears not quite registering. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Dude, you haven’t eaten all day.” Roger pulled a chair closer to the bed and tilted his head as he measured the man sitting before him. “Candy saved you a tray from breakfast but it looked pretty gnarly after lunch so we trashed it.”

  Hatcher yawned and covered his mouth. “What’s on the menu?”

  “SOS, brother.” Roger grinned at him then sat back. “But it was a lot better than I remember it being.”

  Hatcher shook his head and leaned back against the wall, his eyes drooping. “I think I’ll wait until breakfast.” He stifled another yawn then turned suddenly to Roger, his adrenaline reacting and suddenly alert. “Is everything okay?”

  Roger held a hand up to stop him. “Everything is quiet. I just thought you might want to grab a bite then go back to bed.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “I just need coffee.” He sat up and looked to the darkened window. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost lights out.” Roger stood from the chair and pushed it back. “I’ve got extra sentries stationed for the night, just in case. So far, it’s all quiet.”

  Hatcher sighed and slumped his shoulders. “I should be out there. In case anything comes up.”

  “Hatch. We got it.” Roger clapped his shoulder. “You go back to sleep. Trust me, if anything even begins to look suspicious, we’ll come get you.”

  Hatcher raised his head and met Roger’s face. “Are you okay?”

  Roger gave him a lopsided smile. “I crashed for a few hours this afternoon while Candy took over. I’m good.” He stepped toward the door and reached for the light switch. “Catch up on your beauty sleep. You need it.”

  Hatcher stood and shook his head. “No, I’m awake now.” He stretched and grunted. “Maybe I will get something to eat. Better to force myself now than wait.”

  Roger sighed and held the door. “I knew I shouldn’t have woke you.”

  Hatcher hitched his pants up and ran fingers through his hair. “You’re okay. I would have been up shortly anyway, and mess would have been closed.” The pair stepped into the hallway and Hatcher’s first instinct was that something was wrong; the place was too quiet.

  “I uh…I wanted to ask you about something.”

  Hatcher turned and gave him a knowing look. “I knew something was up.” He waited for Roger to say something as they made their way to the dining room.

  Roger lowered his voice so that the few stragglers couldn’t overhear. “After you crashed, that Trevor guy brought his…” He shrugged, unable to find the right words.

  “Patricia.”

  “Yeah. He brought her out to the play room.”

  Hatcher held the tray out while the lunch ladies plopped their labors onto a plate. “Okay. So?”

  “So, there were kids in there.”

  Hatcher turned and raised a brow at him. “Cause a stir?”

  Roger sat down across from him and held a coffee cup in his hands. “Actually, no. They got along great.”

  Hatcher shoved a mouthful of the gray stuff into his mouth and was surprised when it tasted good. “So what’s the problem?” he asked with his mouth full.

  “I just…” Roger sighed again. “All she’d have to do is scratch one kid. Bite one.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Yeah. If she’s going to play with other kids, she should be watched.”

  “Oh, she was watched. Trevor was with her and there were two moms next to them; they didn’t take their eyes off her the entire time.”

  Hatcher nodded, shoving in another fork full of the slop. “Good. She probably needs…” He stopped talking midsentence when he saw the look in Roger’s eyes. “I take it you’re more concerned.”

  Roger nodded. “Candy and I are about to have a kid, Hatch. I don’t want to worry about…”

  Hatcher held a hand up, stopping him. “If you want them gone, just say the word.”

  Roger sighed and sat back in his chair. “I don’t know what I want. I just wanted you to be aware.”

  Hatcher gulped down half a glass of grape juice then pushed the tray back. “Did you talk to Candy about it?”

  Roger shook his head. “I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.”

  Hatcher sighed and gave him a defeated look. “Talk to her first. Get her input. Maybe she’ll alleviate your worries.” He sat forward and gave him an intense look. “Or maybe she’s on the same page as you are and you both want the risk minimized.”

  “What then?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  Dr. McAlester paced his small stateroom, nervous energy coursing through his veins. “I should have stood up to them.” He stopped at the mirror again and glared at his reflection. “You’re a grown assed man for shit’s sake. You don’t have to take their bullying.”

  He watched as the veins in his forehead pulsed. He recognized the anger painted across his features and he felt his anxiety grow. “There’s no reason for you to put up with that kind of shit anymore. You aren’t some eighty pound weakling with zits.” His finger poked at his reflection.

  He remembered the man stabbing at his sternum and his anger grew more intense. “I should have grabbed that damned digit and snapped it off. Let’s see how tough his is when he can’t use his fucking hand!” He threw the first thing he grabbed at the mirror and watched as the stainless steel sheet buckled, a dent forming along the middle.

  He stepped away and tried to control his breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together, forcing his anger back into the shadows of his mind. “You are better than this, Kevin.” He panted heavily, trying to oxygenate his brain and force his heart rate to slow. “Don’t lower yourself to their level.”

  A bang at the door snapped his head up. “What the fuck are you doing in there?” A deep voice asked from the hallway.

  Kevin felt his anger flare again as he turned to the door. “None of your goddam business!” he grabbed a coffee mug and threw it at the door. “Mind your own fucking business!”

  The banging continued. “Open the door you nitwit!” He could almos
t see the asshole outside kicking the bottom of the door.

  Kevin’s anger raged as he stormed the few short paces to the stateroom door. He pulled the door open and glared at the large, uniformed man facing him. “GO. AWAY!”

  The soldier stared at the tiny man with the veins bulging in his neck, screaming at him. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to lower his voice. “Lookit, asshole…I don’t give two shits what you do when you’re in your own room. But when you start yelling to yourself and banging on the goddam walls, that shit keeps me awake.” He stepped forward and tried to look intimidating. “That shit don’t fly with me, pencil neck. I gotta be on watch in four hours and if I don’t get my sleep, I get cranky. You wouldn’t like me when I’m cranky.”

  He reached out to push the smaller man and nearly yipped when Kevin grabbed his arm and pulled him into his stateroom.

  Kevin didn’t think. He simply reacted. Thirty years of cowering and being picked on boiled to the surface as he climbed the larger man’s chest and sank his teeth deeply into the crook of his neck.

  With one hand, Dr. McAlester reached for the soldier’s mouth, covering his screams with his palm while his other arm flailed outward, slamming the door of this stateroom shut. He tore a large chunk of flesh loose from the soldier’s neck and spat it aside.

  He didn’t know why he went for the softer, wetter stuff below the surface, but Kevin soon found his face buried in the wound, his teeth rending more flesh from his struggling would-be bully.

  He honestly didn’t notice when the man quit moving and lay prone across his stateroom floor. He was too busy filling himself.

  Simon watched as his new “gang” tore chunks and limbs from Pipe Guy. He wasn’t even disturbed when they began to eat the pieces. He did, however, feel something in his gut turn when a filthy hand held out a chunk of something in front of his face.

  Simon leaned back and tried to examine the bloody hunk of flesh being offered. It could have been a kidney or a spleen. Maybe a piece of a lung?

  His eyes followed the hand up and saw the hopeful look on the woman’s face, her mouth covered in blood. Simon tried to give her a kind smile before he shook his head.

  She pushed the bloody offering closer and he leaned away from it. Whatever she was offering, she really wanted him to have it. Simon shook his head again and pushed the bloody meat back toward her.

  She seemed to grow taller and thrust the organ back at him, her face almost becoming angry. Simon kicked his legs off the check-in desk and dropped to his feet. He snatched the aviators from his face and glared back at her.

  For a split moment, he could almost see that she was probably once quite pretty. Now, with her thin, ghostly skin hanging off of her bones and her hair mostly gone, she was a pale specter of what she’d once been.

  Simon squared his shoulders, preparing to shove the woman back into the crowd that was wallowing on the carpet, removing all evidence of his kill, when he realized, they were all watching him. His eyes caught each of them staring at him and he was truly confused.

  “What the fuck do you want from me?” Well, that was what he tried to say. It was unintelligible to his own ears. The woman stepped back in front of him and thrust the meat into his face.

  Simon leaned back again and stared, his eyes blinking in the darkness. Now that he had the blood smeared sunglasses removed, he realized, she was offering Pipe Guy’s heart.

  Without realizing it, Simon reached up and took the organ from her hand. It was still warm in his fingers and he found himself watching the others as they watched him.

  He lifted the organ to his mouth and ripped a chunk from the narrower end. That seemed to signal the resumption of the feeding frenzy for the rest of them as they returned to the feast. Simon chewed the raw meat and wasn’t surprised that he didn’t mind the coppery taste of blood; he didn’t mind the texture of raw steak.

  Truth be told, he actually enjoyed it.

  He ripped another bite from the organ then pulled the woman closer to him. He shoved the heart into her face and watched as she took a tentative bite from it. She chewed the bite slowly, her eyes locked to his. He ripped another chunk from the bloody muscle then offered her another bite.

  Her simple mind was confused, but she took the offering, matching him bite for bite until the organ was gone.

  Simon wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his arm, his eyes still locked to hers. She never moved, her gaze boring into his.

  Without thinking, Simon reached out and ripped the threadbare remnants of her top away, exposing her emaciated form. His eyes took her in and he felt a familiar urge come over him.

  Without care that he was being watched by hundreds of eyes, he spun the woman around and pressed her against the check-in counter. His hands ripped her clothing away, exposing the rest of her. He began to rut, satisfying this new blood fueled desire as the others watched.

  As Simon thrust himself harder against her, he looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. She still had that dumb confused look on her face as she stared at her own reflection. For a moment, Simon felt anger overtake him. How dare she not respond to him?

  He reached up and grabbed her shoulders, using the whole of her body as leverage as he slammed his body into her as hard as he could.

  Her expression never changed, even when Simon climaxed and squeezed her hips painfully.

  It was only after he was done and caught the confused stares of the others still watching him that he understood they had no idea what he’d just done.

  He pushed away from the woman and tucked his unit away, pulling the zipper up as he stared back at his new crew. He leaned against the check-in counter beside the still oblivious Rager and shook his head. “I gotta get you fuckers fed if you’re gonna be my army.”

  Again, the words that formed in his mind didn’t come out as he hoped. But he noticed one minor difference this time. They all seemed to perk up when he mentioned feeding them. He had their attention.

  “You assholes hungry still? Didn’t fill up on your Manwich?” He was shocked that they seemed to respond even more. He turned and stared at the nude woman beside him. “You hungry too?”

  Her eyes widened and she licked her lips.

  Simon grinned to himself. Maybe THIS is their language? He pushed away from the counter and eyed the crowd. “Do you idiots understand me?”

  They seemed more alert and a few stepped closer, almost as if approaching an angry dog that they hoped to befriend. Simon smiled broader and nodded. “Fine. If you assholes actually understand what I’m saying…follow me.”

  He stepped through the crowd and wasn’t surprised when the throng fell into step behind him.

  Chapter 6

  Hatcher nearly jumped when a sentry ran into his office, his feet sliding out from under him as he tried to stop. “Hatcher! You gotta see this!”

  He jumped from behind his desk and ran out the door. “What’s going on? Another attack?”

  The sentry smiled at him and shook his head. “You won’t believe it unless you see it yourself, man.” He led Hatcher outside to the courtyard then pointed upward. “There!”

  Hatcher squinted in the night sky, his eyes unable to make anything out. “I don’t…”

  “Shh!” The sentry pointed to the sky then slapped a pair of binoculars to his chest. “Look and listen.”

  Hatcher pressed the spyglasses to his eyes and strained in the night air. A dull roar was barely audible and he finally caught sight of the source of the excitement. Two planes flew high overhead, their port and starboard lights flashing red and green in the distance.

  Hatcher lowered the binoculars and chuckled. “I’ll be a son of a…” He glanced to the sentry and smiled. “Somebody else is still alive.”

  The sentry nodded as he shoved the binoculars back into their case. “Even if it’s military, that’s good, right? They’re going somewhere…so that means there’s probably even more people still alive, right?”


  Hatcher nodded. “That would be my guess.”

  Will Stanton appeared beside Hatcher. “Their contrails appear…different.”

  Hatcher gave him a confused look. “Their what?”

  “The vapor trail. A jet’s engine exhaust contains a large amount of water vapor.” He glanced at Hatcher then added. “Steam.” He pointed up. “At that height, the air is freezing. The water vapor is rapidly condensed into cloud like tubular formations.”

  Hatcher shrugged. “So?”

  “These planes’ exhaust is rapidly expanding.” Will handed him another set of binoculars. “Look again.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what I was looking at, Doc.”

  Will gave him a tight lipped smile. “If I were to guess…” he lowered his voice, “I might be inclined to think that they were actually spraying something.”

  Hatcher’s eyes widened. “You mean, like a cure?”

  Will slowly shrugged. “That’s one possibility.”

  Hatcher inhaled slowly and glanced back toward the complex. “Okay…um.” He pulled the sentry closer and huddled with Will. “Let’s keep this under our hat for now, okay? I don’t want to spread any false rumors that might get people’s hopes up.”

  The sentry nodded slowly. “But what if it is, boss?”

  “If it is, we’ll deal with it.” He turned to Will. “In the meantime, get on the radio, see if you can reach anybody. Maybe even those planes. If they say they have a cure, then we let the people know and we start making preparations for newly cured and probably very confused people.”

  Will gripped his shoulder tightly. “We’ve never reached anybody with the radio, Mr. Hatcher. Either there’s nobody out there or—”

  “Or maybe nobody has a radio on,” the sentry interjected. “Maybe they’re on a different frequency.” He gave Hatcher a panicked look. “You said it yourself; if somebody is up there flying, they’re probably going to where there are others, right?”