Caldera 8: Simon Sez

by Stallcup, Heath

  David Eubanks threw an arm up and covered his eyes. “Dick move, Kevin.” He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his face. “Turn off the lights.”

  Kevin’s arm slowly reached for the switch and flipped the light off. “What…how are…”

  “Please,” David whined. “Don’t play like you don’t remember.” He sat up and wiped at his eyes. “It’s not like you can claim you were drunk.”

  Kevin stumbled back a step and shook his head. “But…I’m not gay.”

  “And I’ll tell you again. I don’t care.” David groaned as he sat up and tossed the blankets off of his nude form. In the soft light of the bathroom, Kevin could just make out his silhouette.

  Kevin swallowed hard and reached down to touch himself. “Did we?”

  David pushed past him and stepped into the bathroom. “Not quite.” He gave him a wink as he relieved himself. As he reached for the handle to flush the toilet he turned and gave him a knowing look. “Close, but no banana.”

  Kevin bristled as the man walked past him, brushing his arm with his chest as he turned to step out of the bathroom. “Why are you here then?”

  David sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull his clothing back on. “Do you remember at chow when you smiled at me and said, ‘I could just eat you alive’? Well, I was hoping you would.” He clucked his tongue as he pulled his pants on. “Instead, I only got to go down on you.”

  “You what?” Kevin blanched.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed it but I would have really liked a little more interaction before you passed out on me.” He pulled his t-shirt on then reached for his BDUs. “It’s okay though. I’m patient.”

  Kevin fell back against the bathroom door and shook his head. “Why don’t I remember any of that?”

  “Bitch, please.” David stood and reached for his boots. “You were growling and scratching and having entirely too much fun before the party ended. And since we weren’t drinking, I’m not buying the whole ‘I don’t remember being with a dude’ line.” He tugged his boot on and began to lace it. “I understand buyer’s remorse as much as the next guy, but there weren’t any strings to begin with.” He tugged the other boot on then turned and smiled at him. “It’s okay. I like it aggressive once in a while.”

  Kevin gagged and turned away. “Please, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” David tugged at the laces and began looping them around the eyelets. “You were the one throat fucking me.”

  “I said stop!” Kevin suddenly squared his shoulders and glared at him.

  David froze and stared at him open mouthed. “Really?” He quickly tied the boot then pushed up from the mattress. He stepped closer to Kevin and gave him the once over. “You can play it however you want, Princess. But we both know what happened here tonight.” He stepped aside and reached for the door. “And other than your little mental breakdown, I enjoyed myself. Don’t ruin an otherwise good time by pretending you weren’t here.”

  He reached for the doorknob just as his lights went out and his body crumpled to the floor.

  Kevin stood breathlessly over him, a hammer in his hand.

  “Like this.” Simon held the arrow in his hand and his fingers fumbled with the end as he tried to straddle the string with the nock.

  “They are returned.”

  Simon leaned to the side and stared out the door of the store. He smiled as he saw the small army of Quee tentatively walking across the parking lot.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” He pushed away from the checkout counter and handed the arrow to the man he was attempting to teach. “Keep practicing.”

  He quickly pushed his way through the small crowd and out into the parking lot. Clyde stepped forward and nodded to him. Simon didn’t miss the dried blood around his mouth and running down his neck and chest. “You killed their leader?”

  Clyde nodded and turned to present the Quee he had acquired. “They come.”

  Simon pulled Clyde aside, his hand gripping his boomstick. “Are you their leader now, Clyde?”

  The tall hunter stared at him a moment then slowly shook his head. “You lead.”

  Simon slowly smiled. “That’s right, Clyde. I lead.” He stepped around the taller man and stared into the crowd. “How many hunters?” He watched as a half dozen men slowly made their way forward.

  “Still strong.” Clyde stated firmly as he stood beside him.

  Simon nodded and stepped closer, his eyes probing each man. “I’m going to turn you into warriors. Fighters.”

  “Who are you?”

  Simon turned to see a young woman with a nearly bald head staring at him. He gave her an easy smile and reached out to cup her chin. “I’m your alpha. Your king.” He turned and faced the rest of the crowd. “I’m the leader of this pack and I intend to turn each and every one of you into fighting machines.”

  Simon stepped aside and waved them toward the entrance to the store. “This way. Your training begins now.”

  Chapter 16

  Hatcher groaned as the sunlight reflected into his eyes. He rolled over violently and pulled the covers over his head. With a huff he tossed his bedding to the floor and groaned as he sat up. “I really hate mornings.”

  He staggered to the small bathroom and blinked at his reflection. He slowly leaned closer and noticed the stubble on his face was beginning to show grayer than he preferred. He sighed as he leaned back and stared at his once black hair. Streaks of silver weaved through the mess and Hatcher groaned again.

  “No wonder I feel so damned old.” He reached for his toothbrush and shook his head at his reflection. “Because I am so damned old.”

  He quickly went through his morning routine, taking care to drag the dull razor carefully across his skin. He removed the whiskers and splashed cold water across his face, hoping it would help wake him up.

  He quickly dressed and stepped out of the tiny efficiency apartment and trudged toward his office and the high octane wake up juice that his body was screaming for.

  He pushed open the door to his office and found Roger already there, pouring over the security reports. “Another quiet night.” He tossed the summary to Hatcher’s desk then reached for the coffee pot. “I’m reluctantly hopeful that the grand majority of the Zulus have starved.”

  “Reluctantly hopeful?” Hatcher lifted his own mug and watched as Roger filled it with the fresh brew. “With a cure blowing on the winds and you’re hoping the grand majority of the human race has starved?”

  “You know what I mean.” Roger sat down gently and gave him a knowing look. “You and I have one thing in common. We don’t trust that this first attempt will actually work.” He sipped the coffee then placed the mug on the security console. “With Candy expecting, I’d like to hope that as many threats as possible are taken off the table.”

  Hatcher inhaled deeply of the aroma before sucking down a large swallow, scalding his tongue. “I won’t go so far as to say that I wish the Zulus dead…not if there’s a real chance of saving them.” He caught the look that Roger shot him. “But I will say that if the cure works, that it’s a real cure. Not some band aid that just makes them more docile or less of a threat.”

  Roger leaned back in his chair and slowly shook his head. “Cured or not, I don’t know that I’d feel truly safe being around them.”

  It was Hatcher’s turn to switch the table on him. “What of Patricia? Seems to me you were a big proponent of us giving Trevor and her shelter here.”

  Roger’s face tightened. “That’s different. She’s a kid.”

  “And the young can infect and kill just as easily as the adults.”

  Roger sighed as he leaned forward. “She’s different.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Indeed, she is. But if the cure works…the Zulus will be different too.”

  “Who’s side are you on?” He gave Hatcher a hard stare.

  “Neither.” He reached for his coffee and took another swallow. “I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate here.�
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  “You suck at it.” Roger stood and reached for his mug. “I have to oversee the shift change.”

  “Don’t go away mad,” Hatcher chuckled. “But hey.” He caught Roger’s attention. “In all seriousness, tell the sentries to be ready for anything.”

  Roger paused at the door and gave him a concerned look. “What are you expecting?”

  Hatcher slowly shrugged. “I don’t know. But my gut is telling me that something is coming. Maybe it’s a cure that backfires, maybe it’s an attack by starving Zulus.” He shrugged again. “Just, be ready for anything.”

  “Copy that.”

  Carol paused as the sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air froze her in place. She strained her ears to help locate the craft, but the sounds echoing off of the large brick buildings played with her sense of direction. She craned her neck to look around the bulky air conditioning condenser and peered over the rooftops of the other buildings. “Where are you?”

  A disheveled Dr. Broussard appeared at the roof access door and waved at her. “Do you hear that?”

  “Come on.” She darted from behind the condenser and ran for the open door. “We need to get out of sight.” She pushed past him and slid into the shadows of the stair well. “I didn’t see them, and I don’t want them seeing us.”

  “Perhaps it’s merely a routine flyover of the city?” Broussard asked in whispered tones. “You know, checking the effectiveness on the cure?”

  She gave him a droll stare. “There’s no need to whisper. Even if we were on the roof and shouting, they’d never hear us.”

  The sound of the helicopter’s approach increased until the pressure of the rotors could nearly be felt inside the building. He turned and gave her a smirk. “They know we’re here.”

  “How?” She turned and made her way down the stairs. “There’s no power; even if they could hack into the CCTV cameras, it would do them no good.”

  “Maybe they have people on the ground who spotted us?” He huffed as he trudged down the stairs behind her. “Perhaps during one of our outings we were spotted and it was reported back to them?”

  She pulled the door open to their shared lab and marched purposefully toward the windows. She peeled back the poster that covered the glass and felt her stomach drop. “They’ve landed in the square.”

  “Damn it.” Broussard sat down heavily and held his head in his hands. “Perhaps we should just give up?”

  “They have to find us first.” She turned back to the window and cringed. A man holding a device in his hands spun a slow circle before turning and pointing almost directly at her. “They’re tracking us…”

  “What?” Broussard sat up, his face registering his disbelief. “How?”

  She slumped against the counter next to him. “I have no idea, but some asshole out there was using a device to pinpoint our location.”

  Broussard patted the pockets of his lab coat. “I didn’t even bring a pen from the ship. I don’t know how they could have.”

  “Knowing the resources of the military, they could have sewn a tracker into the hem of your pants. Or slipped it inside the heel of your shoe.” She sighed heavily and pushed away from the counter. “We can run or we can give up.”

  He raised a brow at her as booted feet echoed loudly in the hallway. “They have guns. And if they can track us…”

  “Right.” She sighed again as she turned and began to gather her notebooks. “Surrender it is.”

  “We’ll tell them that we had to observe from the field. We knew that they’d never allow it and…and…”

  She turned and pressed a finger to his mouth. “Or we don’t tell them anything and let them assume what they will.” Her shoulders fell as a man began to beat on the laboratory door. “I guess it’s time.”

  The door kicked open and uniformed men flowed into the room. “Dr. Broussard, you’re coming with us.”

  Broussard’s face twisted. “Just me? What about Dr. Chaplain?”

  “Our orders are to return you to the flotilla.” The man reached out roughly and grabbed the researcher by the arm. “Now.”

  “But…wait. What of my partner?” Broussard stiffened as the men began to drag him out.

  “She’s not our concern,” the lead man barked. “Take him to the transpo.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without Dr. Chaplain!” Broussard tugged at the men, trying to plant his feet. One of the guards hit him squarely across the back of the neck and his legs folded under him. The two uniformed men adjusted their grip and dragged him from the room.

  “Should…should I gather my things?” Carol asked quietly as the leader of the men stared her down.

  “My orders were, and I quote: ‘Bring the damned Frenchman back. I don’t give two shits what happens to the woman.’ Unquote.” He raised a brow at her.

  “So, if I tried to get on the chopper with you?” She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly very dry. “Would you stop me?”

  He crossed his arms and gave her a stony stare. “I can’t say that I’d stop you.” He glanced over his shoulder then lowered his voice. “But I also can’t guarantee that you’d make it back to the ship either.” A chilling smile crossed his features. “So many bad things can happen in the air, ya know.”

  Simon watched as his Rager army practiced with the weapons in the shadows of the grocery store. He smiled to himself as they began to regain the dexterity of their fingers, their hand-eye coordination gradually returning as they shot arrow after arrow into the bags of dog food.

  He paced behind the lines, watching as his hunters each practiced with different weapons. Bows, blades, spears and even rocks were being used as the Ragers all attacked static dummies.

  “I hurt.”

  Simon turned and looked down at the woman that he had claimed as his own. “What?”

  She swallowed hard and rubbed at her neck. “I hurt.” She pressed against her temples then touched her neck. “Here and here.”

  Simon nodded knowingly and fished in his pocket for the bitter white pills. He used his teeth to pry the lid off and grabbed her hand. “Eat more of these. Drink this afterward.” He handed her his ever present bottle of brown liquor.

  He watched as she sniffed the aspirins in her hand then give him a cautious look. “I don’t like them.”

  “They’ll make you feel better.” He lifted her hand closer to her mouth. “Do it.”

  Slowly she slid the pills into her mouth and chewed, her face twisting as the bitterness spread. She quickly reached for the bottle and sucked down the burning drink. Simon watched her carefully then pulled the bottle away.

  “Go. Try to sleep.” He lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “We have a big night tonight.”

  “Why big?”

  “Tonight we kill the Cagers and eat them.” He gave her a cheesy grin. “Slow and tasty, remember?”

  Her face fell and she stepped away from him. “I…remember.”

  Simon raised a brow at her. “What? What do you remember?”

  She stared at her filthy bare feet and swayed slightly. “The before.”

  “Before?” Simon nearly shouted. “What ‘before’?”

  As if she could shrivel and withdraw any more than she already had, she seemed to wither in his presence. “Small things.”

  Simon grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the rear of the store. He kicked open the swinging doors to the prep area and dragged her behind a wrapped flat of boxed goods. With a shove he sent her sprawling across the floor and stood over her. “What do you remember?”

  She winced at the anger in his voice and shook her head rapidly. “Small things.” She looked away, her eyes probing the darkness for some minute hole to slide into.

  “Tell me.” Simon’s voice was low and quiet, dripping with menace. “Tell me what you remember.”

  She glanced at him and shook her head. “Pretty things.” She motioned to herself. “People. Faces.” She looked up at him and her eyes were full of tears. “My
…just places.”

  “And?”

  She shook her head slightly as her eyes lowered to the dirty floor. “I was not…this.”

  “What?” He hunkered down next to her, his eyes probing her. “What’s wrong with ‘this’?” Like a coiled snake, his arm struck, reaching out and snatching her hand. “You think you’re too good for this? Huh? Do you?”

  With a quick tug he pulled her to her feet and pressed her close to him. “You think you’re too good for me?” He stepped back and his face was a mask of rage. “I’m your leader. Your fucking Alpha!” He pulled her close again and glared down at her. “You would have starved by now if it weren’t for me.”

  She nodded quickly, her eyes darting side to side praying for an escape. “I know.”

  “Then you should push all of those faces and places out of your empty fucking head.” His voice was a low growl. “You are mine now.”

  She nodded rapidly again. “Yes.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Yours.”

  He released her arm and stepped back, eying her from head to toe. “That’s right. You’re mine.” He extended his hand and gripped the collar of the shirt he’d given her. With a brutal tug he ripped it from her shoulders and left her standing nude in front of him once more.

  “I think it’s time I remind you.” His hand slid down his front and gripped the tail end of his belt. As he slid it through the buckle he saw a single tear roll down her cheek.

  He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, my pet. I’m gonna pound all of those memories right out of you.”

  Chapter 17

  “It’s quiet as a graveyard.” The sentry lit a cigarette and blew a blue-grey plume into the night sky. “I hate to say it boss, but I think you’re worrying over nothing.”

  Hatcher fought a yawn and stared into the inky blackness. “I hope you’re right.” He stepped closer to the gate and peered across the street into the vacant lots where Simon’s old truck waited to begin rusting. “But my gut is rarely wrong and trusting it has kept me alive a lot longer than I deserve to be.” He patted the sentries arm. “Just stay alert.”