“Trace?”
“Like fibers, fingerprints, hairs…whatever.”
Kevin smirked at him. “And they think they’ll find anything like that on my toothbrush? Or in my sock drawer?”
Broussard placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure that they’ll discount your things since it is your room. They’ll be looking for trace from the victim and whoever killed him. Anybody that’s not you will be their suspect.”
Kevin huffed as he fell into step with the senior researcher. “I hope they hurry.”
“I’m sure they’ll be quick and thorough.” Broussard held the door open for him. “Like I said, it’s small, but I’m happy to share.” He flipped on the light and Kevin noted that the room was a mirror image of his own. “I’ll ask about a change of sheets for the bed. We can alternate shifts at the lab and—”
“Sheets?” Kevin asked, his face curious.
Broussard chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect you to sleep in my sheets.” He gave a mock shudder. “I tend to sweat at night.” He gave him a quick wink. “Not to mention the sluffed skin cells, hair and drool.”
“Hair?” Kevin asked, his mind going back to the last place his victim had been before being bludgeoned.
“Everybody sheds.” Broussard reached down and plucked the pillow from the bed and shook the casing off of it. “I’ll have this switched over for you soon enough and you can get some rest.”
Dr. McAlester didn’t hear a word he said as his mind raced to his own bedding and all the secrets they held.
Simon stared at the wall surrounding the facility where the Cagers now enjoyed the high life. He could see the yellowish glow of electric lights and he could hear the murmur of conversations and soft music playing. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost remember a time when this was the norm. What’d the bitch call it? The ‘before’?
He crept along the low brush and tried to keep to the few trees next to the vacant lot across from the entrance. He watched as men sauntered across the gateways, weapons in hand, and he knew that they weren’t paying attention to anything beyond their borders.
He motioned to Clyde and the taller hunter slipped in next to him. “How many did you count?”
Clyde held up a hand, all five fingers splayed. “On that side.” He pointed to the West side near the alley.
Simon nodded as he sat back, using a small tree as a rest. “We put Quee along the trees. Lob arrows over the fences all at once…we might get the grand majority of the guards.”
Clyde simply stared at him.
Simon tried to imagine any scenario where the sticks and rocks and arrows could overpower their armed watch stations.
None came to mind.
He made a motion with his hand. “We go. Now.” He waited a moment until the other hunters had closed ranks then slipped silently through the brush. As the group headed back to the grocery store and a solid day’s rest, he played out the attacks in his mind.
“There’s got to be a way.”
“For what?” Clyde asked.
“To lure them out.” Simon sucked at his teeth as his mind probed the limited possibilities with his diminished mental capacity. He could feel his head begin to hurt again and he fished a bottle of the bitter white pills out. He quickly chewed a handful and washed it down with the ever present brown liquor.
“Fire,” Clyde stated simply.
Simon paused and stared at him. “Say what?”
“Fire.” Clyde stared at him blankly. “Fire make them leave.”
Simon felt the corners of his mouth slowly curl into a smile. “Clyde, my friend, you’re a hell of a lot smarter than you look.”
As the group rounded the corner and aimed for home, Simon was already devising ways of launching fire over the walls and praying that some part of the mud brick structure was flammable.
Chapter 20
“Danny, I’m a trauma nurse, not a neurologist. Even if I could perform an MRI or CT scan, I wouldn’t have a clue what I was looking at.” Vicky planted her elbows on her desk and dropped her head into her hands. “From what I can tell, they’re all perfectly normal.”
“Something must be causing this, sis.” Hatcher took the seat opposite her desk and stared at her. “Do you think this could be a side effect of the cure?”
Vicky gave a slight shrug and rolled her eyes. “Danny, it could be a side effect of life. We’re all trapped behind these walls, rubbing elbows with people we may not even like. Forced to eat, sleep and survive under the same roof.” She sighed heavily and leaned back in her seat. “Or it could be what you’re thinking.”
“Or any number of things,” Hatcher muttered.
“Exactly.” She stood and stretched her lower back. “All that I can tell you for sure is that they appear normal. Key word there is ‘appear’. I’m sorry but that’s the best I can do.”
With a groan, Hatcher came to his feet. “Thanks.” He stepped out of her office and glanced toward the recovery room where Coop stared at a tiny television, a DVD playing quietly. He knocked lightly on the door. “Busy?”
“If you’re not interrupting sleep, you’re interrupting a movie.” Coop clicked pause on the DVD player and turned his attention to Hatcher. “What now?”
Hatcher leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “How much longer are you gonna be a bed potato?”
“Until my future wife decides to release me.” He shot Hatcher a quick wink.
“That’s a nervous thought.” He pushed off the door and turned for the exit. “Get better soon.”
“You interrupted my movie for that?” Cooper pushed himself more upright and gave him a wave. “Come on. Spill it.”
Hatcher cleared his throat, wincing slightly. “People are turning on each other for no reason. You’re stuck in the corner of the infirmary but you tend to hear more rumors than I do. Any ideas?”
Coop shook his head. “Not offhand, but I have my theories.” He nodded toward Vicky’s office. “I heard you two in there and I tend to agree with her. People need to stretch their legs more. Get out, do things besides work toward the common good.”
“So you think it’s cabin fever?”
Coop shrugged again. “You ain’t never been on a submarine, have you?”
Hatcher snorted a laugh. “You won’t find me boarding a ship that’s designed to sink.”
“Right. Well, I had buddies that used to and trust me, you need to be able to get out and away from shit once in a while.” He turned his attention back to the miniature TV. “I’m just saying.”
“Understood.” Hatcher gave him a mock salute then turned out to the hallway. He went straight to his office and glanced around. A sentry walked by carrying his weapon and Hatcher caught his attention. “Have you seen Roger?”
The man paused then pointed down the hallway. “I saw him and Candy heading that way about a half hour ago.”
“Thanks.” Hatcher trotted toward their shared room and knocked lightly on the door. “Are you decent?”
Roger chuckled as he answered. “I’m never decent. What’s up?”
Hatcher rubbed at his jaw as he tried to find the right words. “When was the last time we actually saw a Zulu?”
Roger shook his head. “Their last failed attack.” He shrugged and turned to Candy. “Babe?”
Candy appeared by his side and gave Hatcher a worried look. “Weeks. Why?”
“I’ve been talking with others and they think that people are getting cabin fever. That might be the cause of the fights. How about we start allowing people out on supply runs and…” He trailed off as he searched for the right words. “And just to get out.”
Roger glanced at Candy then nodded. “I’m sure they’d appreciate that.” He pulled the door open further and muttered a quick good bye to Candy. “I’ll get with the gate guards and we’ll spread the word.”
“Let them take their vehicles. I’m sure some would benefit from being driven even if it’s just a little.”
&
nbsp; “Curfew?”
Hatcher shrugged. “Half hour before dark. I want to know everyone is safely back before the threat can present itself.”
“On it.” Roger took off down the hallway and Hatcher glanced after him.
“I hope this isn’t a huge mistake.”
Carol wrapped twine around the blade handle, securing it to the long dowel rod she’d discovered. She knew that it would be a nearly useless weapon in her hands, but it made her feel safer knowing that she had something that could inflict some damage and still maintain a small bit of distance.
She kept a quick pace as she cleared the campus and reached the tiny car that she and Andre had driven along the coast. She hung her spear out of the rear window and struck out into the city. She really hoped to find easier weapons to use and possibly preserved food, as her pantry was beginning to run lean.
The day was young. She planned to allow herself as much time as she might need to locate what she wanted and still have time to haul it to the lab before the daylight was gone. She ignored the early morning chill and drove with the window down to get as much fresh air as she could.
She stopped at the first pawn shop she came to and rubbed the dirt from the window, peering deep inside. It had enough ambient daylight that she really felt it safe to enter. She tugged at the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She stepped back and tried to imagine breaking in.
Bars mounted to the interior would prevent her from entering, even if she could break the glass. A quick check of the perimeter found the rear door as secure as the front.
She cursed to herself as she made her way back to the car. “Maybe I could tie something to the door handles and pull it off with the car?”
She glanced up and down the deserted street, hoping to find something that would fit her need. She spied a small pickup with a grill guard mounted to the front. She felt the corners of her mouth curl into a smile as an rebellious thought ran through her mind.
She searched the small truck and found the keys in the console. It didn’t want to start right away but after the second try, the engine belched, backfired and came to life.
She backed the truck away from the curb and angled it across the street, the front pointed directly at the main doors of the pawn shop.
She eased the front tires over the curb and revved the engine. She popped the clutch and nearly screamed when the rear tires hit the curb, bouncing her into the air just as the front of the truck buckled the doors to the pawn shop.
The truck bounced back toward the road and one of the shop doors came with it, securely attached to the grill guard. The little truck engine died and Carol stepped out, her head still spinning slightly from the jarring experience.
She quickly grabbed her spear and turned a slow 360, her blade at the ready. Once she was convinced that neither the infected nor the authorities were coming, she stepped over the broken door frame, glass crunching under her feet.
Moving into the interior, she slipped off her sunglasses and it only took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. She quickly made her way to the firearms counter. A myriad of signs were posted declaring that the pawn shop must adhere to all state and federal firearm laws. Notices of waiting periods, ammunition sales, magazine restrictions and required documentation were prominently posted.
Carol didn’t care about any of it. She ran a hand along the glass case until she found what she was looking for. The revolvers were light, easy to operate and from what little she knew of handguns, reliable.
She quickly made her way to the back of the display and found the cases locked. A quick glance around the pawn shop and she found a box of hand tools. She picked through the numerous implements until her hand wrapped around the grip of a short handled sledge hammer.
It made quick work of the glass top.
She gently removed two matching revolvers and brushed the broken glass from them. A quick inspection told her they were both .38 caliber. She found the ammunition on a shelf behind the counter and grabbed four boxes. She slid them into the pockets of her vest and gave the shop another brief once over before working her way back to the compact car.
As she sat behind the wheel, her entire body still shaking from her breaking and entering, she gripped one of the revolvers and fumbled with a box of ammunition. She loaded the weapon as quickly as she could then started the engine.
“Who would have thought I’d ever need a gun to go grocery shopping?”
Simon entered the grocery store just minutes before the sun crested and turned the night into day. He made his way through the numerous aisles and grabbed a fresh bottle of brown liquor to wash down more of the bitter pills. His throat was so sore that it hurt to swallow, but he knew the pills would help.
Pills always helped.
He walked along the inner perimeter of the store and noted that many of the people who had been curled into a fetal position were now sitting up, their backs against the block wall of the store. They still looked like death on a stick, but at least they were up.
Some of the sick were picking at scraps that lay near them on the floor. The unnecessary ones had brought food around and just dropped it. Simon paused and did a quick head count of the unnecessary ones. The elderly, the young, the women too frail to wield a weapon…all were unnecessary.
Well, except maybe the women. They had their uses.
He made his way to where his dog food mattress sat and found it empty. He glanced around the store, looking for the female that he had claimed. He was almost wishing that he’d named her. It would make it easier to ask others where the hell she had gone.
Simon rounded the end of the aisle and caught Clyde’s attention. He waved him over. “Where’s the woman?”
Clyde cocked his head to the side and gave him a slight shake of his head. “Which one?”
“Mine,” Simon barked through gritted teeth.
Clyde’s brows knit in confusion. “We just returned. Don’t know.”
Simon growled under his breath and marched through the store, looking for her.
The sun is up. She must be inside. He rounded the last aisle and stared into the gloom. He pushed past a few small groups of Quee and made his way to the rear of the store. He pushed open the double doors and stared into the darkness.
Stepping inside, he let the double doors swing shut against his back and listened intently. If she were avoiding him, he could hear her breathing. Maybe even smell the nervous sweat from her.
Nothing.
He stepped deeper into the darkness and sniffed the air. The smell of mold and mildew nearly overpowered the stench of rotting vegetables and stale piss.
With a growl, Simon pushed his way back through the double doors and into the main section of the store. He went aisle by aisle again and finally paused near the front doors. Sunlight poured into the building and he kept just to the edge of the shadows.
He cocked his head and saw an elderly man around the corner of the main entrance and Simon snapped his fingers to get his attention. “You. Did you see any women leave after the hunters went out last night?”
The old man seemed to have to concentrate then slowly nodded. “Two went out. One returned.”
“Who came back?” Simon barked.
The old man raised a frail arm and pointed to the female. Simon squinted in the gloom of the interior and spotted the female he had used before they left to watch the Cagers. Her shirt still hung loosely over her shoulders as she picked at items on a shelf.
Simon slipped in next to her and grabbed her arm. “Where’s the other female?”
She turned hollow eyes to him and gave him a quizzical stare. “What female?”
Simon had to bite is tongue to keep from exploding. “The one who sleeps with me.”
She seemed confused for a moment then her eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Her.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone.”
Simon stared at her, the woman’s arm still in his grip. “Where?”
She continued to pick at the items with her other arm but turned to give him a blank stare. “Home.”
Simon released her arm and stepped back slightly. “Where?”
“Home.” She turned back to the food on the shelf and gently picked up a can, trying to decipher the picture on the front.
“She said that? Home?”
The woman nodded and dropped the can to the floor. She picked up another and studied the label.
Simon ground his teeth in frustration. “She was mine.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “How dare she leave without asking.”
“She remembered.” The woman turned to him slowly. “Home.”
Simon swallowed hard and stared at the nearly bald headed woman. “She remembered?”
She nodded, a stray strand of hair dropping over her face. She turned back to the cans as if in a daze.
Simon felt his chest tightening and he glanced around the building. “What about you? Do you remember?” She turned her back to him and lifted two cans to her eyes. Simon reached out in frustration and spun her around. “Answer me!”
She stared at him wide eyed, shock painted across her pale features. “What?”
“Do you remember?” He shook her and clenched his jaw. “Do you remember home, too?”
She shook her head slightly, fear creeping into her very core. “N-no.”
Simon released her and stared at her trembling before him. “Good. You are mine now.” He pointed at her. “No other touches you but me.”
She nodded nervously and slowly reached for another can. “Eat?”
Simon stepped back and looked at the can in her hand. He gave her a slight nod of his head. “Eat. Then find me.”
He turned away from her and marched back to the front of the store. He stared through the large front windows and the early morning light. “Where did you go?” He muttered. He glanced back into the store at the Quee breaking into smaller groups, huddling in the shadows.
Caldera 8: Simon Sez Page 15