Caldera 8: Simon Sez

by Stallcup, Heath

  He turned back to his room slowly and sat on the mattress again. “That must be it.” He breathed a long sigh of relief and fell back on the mattress. “It was so real…oh my god, I can’t believe I’d dream something that fucked up.”

  He ran his hand over his face then kicked his shoes to the floor. “Maybe I dreamt the whole mess where Broussard and Chaplain went AWOL, too.”

  He reached to pull his shirt off and his hand brushed the still damp pants. He lifted them and looked at the stain. “Apparently not.”

  He wadded the pants and tossed them into the corner where the dirty clothes basket sat and closed his eyes again. “It was all a dream.” He smiled to himself and was about to drift back to sleep when his subconscious made a connection he hadn’t considered.

  Kevin sat upright and stared at the dented mirror again. He stood slowly and approached it, his brain telling him not to get close, but he saw his hand slowly extend and he brushed his fingers across the dent in the thin metal. “Aw, hell. The dent is real.” He stared at his reflection and for a moment, he saw his blood stained face again.

  He jumped back and wiped at his face, relieved that his hand came back clean. He turned and threw open the bathroom door, flipping on the light as he stepped inside. He leaned close to the mirror and studied his face. “Not a hint of blood.”

  He leaned back and sighed. “That’s it then. I’m losing my fucking marbles.”

  Simon sat upright, his hands cupping his midsection. Oh no. His head spun around, trying to find a toilet when the cramps increased in pressure. He bent over, praying that the pain would subside.

  As it spiked, he knew that he had little time. He pushed away from the female and rolled off of the dog food bags. He fought with his belt and barely got his pants tugged down before liquid fire shot from his ass, spraying the shelves across from where he’d slept.

  Simon fought the urge to howl and nearly cried at the instant relief. He felt his legs try to buckle under him and he glanced to either side, hoping he could find something to wipe the mess from his thighs and ass. It was right about then that the stench hit him and he felt his guts twist, threatening to launch a frontal attack.

  I guess that will teach me to eat human meat. In his mind, he knew it was Pipe Guy’s heart that was tearing his insides out.

  He yanked his jacket off and pulled his shirt over his head; a quick tug at the thread bare wife beater and he had a sacrificial rag to try to clean some of the mess off of him. As he swiped at the black goo, he heard others grunting in the shadows. The sounds that echoed from the store told him that he wasn’t the only one suffering from Montezuma’s revenge.

  Maybe this will teach them to stop eating people. Well, the infected ones, anyway.

  The wave of stench that slowly wafted through the grocery store had Simon breathing through his mouth. At least, until he could taste it.

  He quickly tugged his pants back up and snatched his over shirt and jacket from the floor. He made his way to the front of the store, hoping to open a door and breathe fresh air, but the sunlight pouring in through the front windows had him slinking back into the darkness.

  He turned back and saw that most of his people were suffering the same fate that he had. Most simply squatted, splattering anything within a five foot radius, then stepped back to where they had been sleeping, ignoring the stench that hung in the air.

  These fuckers are more broken than I thought. Nobody could sleep with this smell around. It was only then that Simon wondered if this was par for the course for him and his people now. Was this what they had to look forward to any time they ate? Or was it something they ate? Or…someone?

  Simon staggered back to the dog food bags and found his anorexic lover still curled in the fetal position. He slid in next to her then stiffened when her guts growled loudly. She barely stirred until the next round of bodily noises hit, then she stepped away.

  Simon opened his mouth to tell her to keep walking, but she simply squatted, splattered the aisle across from them then sleepily made her way back to his side. Just when he thought the smell couldn’t get any worse she passed gas.

  Simon gagged and had to force himself not to throw up across her neck and shoulders. She slid closer and he tried his best to lean away.

  In the dark recesses of his mind, he knew the smell that permeated the store. He couldn’t remember how he knew, but somehow, he’d experienced it before.

  His eyes popped open and a word echoed through the vacant recesses of his mind.

  Parvo.

  He barely recalled a black and tan dog that he’d had. His old lady had bought it for him as a gift. The pup was barely more than six months old when it got sick and the stench that came from it before it died was horrendous.

  This was that smell.

  Simon rolled away from the female and stared into the exposed beams of the grocery store. Had they all contracted a dog disease? Did they all have parvo now? Were they going to die the same horrible and painful death that his dog had?

  He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his mouth again. His body ached and demanded he rest. If they were all going to die of parvo, he wanted to make sure that he got his revenge first.

  He had people to kill and now he had the army to make it a reality.

  Chapter 8

  “So much for keeping it under their hats,” Hatcher muttered to himself as people excitedly asked him about the planes and what they were spraying.

  He pushed his office door closed for the sixth or seventh time then went to the security control panel. He grabbed the microphone, flipped on the intercom system, lifted the mic to his mouth then paused. “What exactly should I say?”

  “Just tell them what you know.”

  He spun and blinked rapidly at Cooper leaning against the other door jamb. “How did you get out?”

  Cooper held a hand up to stop him. “Your sister, in her infinite wisdom, informed me that the sooner I got on my feet, the sooner I could start healing. So here I am.”

  “No way.” Hatcher put the mic down and tucked himself under the older man’s shoulder. “Your old wrinkled ass is back in bed. Now.”

  Vicky appeared in the doorway and glared at the old biker. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  “You said to get moving. It would speed my healing.”

  “I said you would have to, eventually. Your wounds are too fresh for you to be up and about like this.” She grabbed his other arm and the pair supported the old man as they slowly made their way back down the hallway.

  “I knew you’d be in trouble.” Hatcher groaned softly. “She’s a bear when it comes to her patients.”

  “I can hear you, dear brother.”

  Cooper grunted in pain then gave Hatcher a crooked grin. “I sure am glad she doesn’t take after you.”

  Vic squeezed him a little tighter. “We’re more alike than you’ll ever know.”

  “I ain’t kissing him,” Cooper stated flatly. “I don’t care how much he begs, it ain’t happening.”

  “Watch yourself,” Hatcher muttered. “I can drop your ass in the hallway and roll you the rest of the way with my foot.”

  Cooper stifled a dry cough, bending slightly as he fought the urge to scream. “Listen to you. Threatening an old man that’s been gut shot.”

  “You’re lucky I don’t let her have at ya,” Hatcher stated. “You think I’m the mean one. I could tell you stories about our childhood that—”

  “Daniel Hatcher!” Vicky gave him a wide eyed stare. “Don’t you dare start.”

  Hatcher clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Not even on his life.”

  The trio entered the lounge of the nurse’s station and Vicky slipped out to open the door to Coop’s room. “Get your butt on that bed and you don’t get up again until I tell you to.”

  “What if I need to pee?” Coop wagged his brows at her.

  “Ooh, Vic. Give him a catheter. Run the end back to his IV.” Hatcher grinned at her. “That’
ll teach him.”

  “Like a self-watering plant?” Coop grinned at him. “That would be interesting.”

  “Both of you knock it off.” Vic helped him back onto the mattress then pulled the covers up to his middle. “I swear, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you two.”

  “Ha ha. You got in trouble.” Hatcher pointed at the old biker. “You better listen to her.”

  “I always do.” Coop finally exhaled hard and seemed to relax into the bed. “So what’s all the rumors about a cure?”

  Hatcher gave Vicky a dirty look. “We don’t know what it was. We just saw a couple of big planes flying overhead.”

  “Don’t glare at me like that. I haven’t told a soul.” Vicky lifted Coop’s head and shoved another pillow under it.

  Hatcher sighed and leaned against the wall. “We really don’t know what, if anything, is going on. It’s all guessing right now.”

  Coop nodded slowly, the rusty gears in his grey head turning. “At least we know that there’s somebody else out there, yeah?”

  “Exactly.” Hatcher pushed off of the wall and reached for the door. “And I guess that’s what I’m going to tell people.”

  Vic glanced at him. “Good luck.”

  Hatcher shrugged. “I can’t tell them what I don’t know.” He stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

  Stella appeared in front of him, her eyes wide. “I’m hearing that there might be a cure?”

  Hatcher held his hand up to stop her. “I’m about to make an announcement over the PA.” He watched her face drop. “Look, right now, all we know is that a couple of planes flew overhead. Stanton thought that the exhaust looked funny. That’s all.”

  She nodded slowly and stepped out of his way. “Sorry. I was just hoping that maybe things could get back to the way they were.”

  He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Stella, I don’t think things will ever be like they were. But if the government has found a cure before the Zulus die? We’ll be that much closer to being able to rebuild from what’s left.”

  She lowered her eyes and stepped out of his way. “It could be a start though, yeah?”

  It was at that moment that Hatcher realized that simply surviving wasn’t enough. The people needed hope.

  He gave her a soft smile. “It would be a heckuva start.”

  Carol walked tentatively to the front of the building. “This is so eerie.” She kept her voice low, her eyes scanning the area. “All of these buildings…these houses. All deserted.”

  “We hope, you mean.” Broussard stepped up behind her and eyed the front of the building. “A women’s center?”

  “There are a lot of different medical groups working out of here.” She paused and cleared her throat. “I mean, there used to be.”

  “I don’t like this.” He quietly shook a few more of the brown pills into his hand then tried to toss them back. He turned and pointed overhead. “All that parking above the building? That’s a lot of dark places that they could be hiding. Waiting.”

  “I fear that anywhere we go, we’d encounter the same problem.” She gave him a tight lipped smile. “Unless you know of an outdoor lab?”

  He shook his head. “This sounds more like a biomedical lab. Not a research facility.”

  She shrugged. “I only know about these places because I met people at a conference who worked there.” She sighed and stepped back toward the car. “Perhaps the university?”

  Broussard seemed to brighten. “There is a university here?”

  “Cal State has a campus here.” She gave him a crooked smile. “They have a pretty decent biochemistry department. Surely they have laboratories.”

  “One would think.” He hiked a brow at her. “Shall we continue our journey?” He swept low, ushering her toward the car.

  She slid into the passenger seat and lifted the large phone directory they had swiped from a laundromat. “I’ll just look up the address and punch it into the car’s nav system.”

  “We may not have internet, but we have Garmin.” Broussard patted the dashboard gently.

  Carol chewed nervously at her cheek. “Crap. There are a ton of addresses here.” She held the page up for him to see.

  “Choose one. Perhaps once we are closer to the campus we can narrow it down.”

  Carol snorted. “Hardly. Most schools name the buildings after large donors, not what they actually do.”

  Broussard nodded knowingly. “Still, I believe that once we are on campus, we will find what we are looking for.”

  “Speaking of looking, you are looking a bit more pale.” She leaned toward him, trying to see his eyes.

  “It is nothing.” He pulled a bottle of water from the rear seat and cracked the lid. “Luckily you found these at that washing place.” He tilted it back and almost emptied the bottle. He sat back in the seat and rubbed at his neck. “It must be the cure. My throat is so dry that the tablets feel like they are stuck.”

  She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I should drive. You can rest in the back seat.”

  He turned and gave her a surprised smile. “My dear, if we removed the rear hatch and laid the seats down flat, I wouldn’t fit in the back of this car unless you cut me into small pieces.”

  She glanced to the rear and winced. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She turned back to him and raised a brow, jokingly. “But if the pieces were small enough…”

  Broussard grunted as he pulled his door shut. “You are not funny.”

  “Hey, you were the one who suggested it.” She smiled as she leaned back into her seat. “Onward, James.”

  Simon groaned as he rolled off of the dog food bag. The sun was just beginning to set and either the shit puddles had stopped stinking or he had burned out his sinuses from the stench.

  He scrambled up from the floor and wandered the grocery store. He avoided the dark splatters where he could and stepped over some of the smaller ones. “You people have no manners.”

  Again, what came from his mouth sounded more like an interrupted growl, but in his mind, he knew what he was saying.

  He came to the aisle where most of the canned goods had been. Too many people scavenged this place. It might not be able to feed a crew this large for much longer.

  He pulled a can of fruit from the shelf and eyed it. He KNEW what this was. He recognized the picture. He just couldn’t think of the name.

  He reached for his belt and pulled off his key ring. His fingers fumbled with the old military P-38 but he finally attached it correctly. With a twist he pierced the can and began to work his way around the seal.

  Juice flowed up and ran down his fingers. He licked the clear fluid from his hand then sucked the juice from the can. He smiled to himself. Whodathunk that a little peach juice would taste so good?

  He continued to open the can when the realization struck him. Peaches. These are peaches! He chuckled to himself as the little can opener worked its way around. He finally angled the tip under the lid and pushed it out of his way.

  Tilting the tin back, he felt the cool, wet fruit slide into his mouth. He chewed the bites slowly, savoring each piece before he swallowed.

  A grunt behind him made him turn. His naked, anorexic fuck toy stood behind him, her eyes wide. She pointed to the can. “What is that?”

  Simon nearly dropped the canned fruit as he stared at her. “You can talk?”

  She gave him a slight ‘duh’ look. “What is that?”

  Simon stared at her then handed her the can. “Peaches. I think.”

  She sniffed the can then licked the edge. She worked the juice around in her mouth then slowly shook her head. “Not peaches.” She tilted the can back and sucked the fruit into her mouth.

  Simon’s brows knit together. “How come you can talk now?”

  She chewed rapidly then swallowed. “I always could. You were grunting and growling until today.”

  Simon tried to speak slowly, articulating his words. It sounde
d like grunts and warbles to him. He turned to her slowly. “But you can understand me now?”

  She dug at the fruit with her fingers, pulling the last of the apricots from the can. “More.” She tossed the can to his feet.

  Simon scowled at her. “What do you want?”

  She shook her head as she stared at the shelf. Her hand came up and she pointed to a can. “That.”

  Simon leaned closer, his mind trying to read the label. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Food.” She grabbed the can and handed it to him. “Give. Now.”

  Simon gave her a sideways glare before he pulled the P-38 out again and began to nibble away at the lid.

  “Hurry,” she barked.

  He gave her a dirty look then directed his attention back at the can. “Don’t yell at me. I’m doing the best I can.”

  She snatched the can from his hand and pried the lid up, her fingers sliding into the brownish goo with orange chunks at the top. Simon caught a whiff of the stuff and knew that it was familiar. He started to ask her a question when she dropped to the floor in a squatting position.

  “Oh no. You ain’t shittin’ here with the food.”

  She glared at him as she scooped more of the chili into her mouth. “Eat here. Shit there.” She hooked her head down the aisle.

  Simon planted his hands on his hips and stared at her. “Why haven’t you and your people been eating this all along? Why are you eating people?”

  She scraped the last of the chili from the can and dropped it. “More.”

  “You can have more when you answer my question.”

  “You talk too much. More.” She pointed to the shelf and Simon shook his head.

  “Talk first, eat after.”

  She jumped to her feet and got in his face. “You are mine now. More.”

  Simon stepped back and blinked at her. “I’m yours?” He snorted a laugh. “Fuck that. You’re mine.” He pushed her shoulder, moving her away from him. “But only when I want it.”