She ignored his crudeness and glanced around the room. “I could lock the doors behind me and—”
“And best case scenario, I starve to death.” He shook his head. “Just give me a gun and we can both pray that I won’t need it.”
Vicky swallowed hard then gave him a slight nod. She disappeared into her office and returned a moment later with a .380; he squinted at the small pistol. “Danny gave this to me when he first got back. He wanted me to keep it at all times.” She shrugged slightly as she handed it to him. “I kept it in my desk drawer. Hoped I’d never need it.”
He shrugged. “I’ll keep that hope alive for ya.” Coop slipped the gun under his blanket and gave her a solemn smile. “You better get ready. If it gets bad, they’re gonna need you.”
She gave him a quick kiss then disappeared into the triage room. Coop watched her go then gripped the pistol firmly. He had an almost straight line shot to the glass door of the infirmary. “Bring it you bastards.”
“You check the left, I’ll check the right.” Broussard waved his new best friend to the other side of the ship.
“Port.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s the bow,” he pointed ahead. “Left is port on a boat.” The guard sighed then pointed to the opposite side. “That’s starboard.”
Broussard gave him a wide grin. “That’s good to know.” He turned and waded through the shadows and operating machinery. “If you see him, call to me.”
He’d only gotten a few steps into the shadows when a hand pulled him back. “What are you doing down here?”
He nearly yipped when he was tugged back but Broussard kept his wits about him. “Why are you down here?” His voice a hoarse whisper.
“I saw the cop and his team of bruisers marching toward your stateroom and figured they were on a mission. Tell me I’m wrong?” Kevin had smeared black grease across his face in an attempt to blend with the darkness.
Broussard shook his head. “You aren’t wrong. They’re convinced that they have evidence that you were involved in that sailor’s death.”
Kevin sighed heavily and shook his head. “Probably figured out that the little squirrelly fucker had been in my room before.”
Broussard’s eyes widened and he gave him a curious look. “He had?”
Kevin shrugged. “Apparently we had sex.” He gave the older researcher a deadpan stare. “Not that I remember it.”
“Wait…what?” Broussard stepped back and had to force himself to whisper. “You had sex with him?”
“That’s what he said.” Kevin glanced over Broussard’s shoulder. “But like I told you, I don’t remember it.”
“How do you have…were you drunk?”
“Nope.” He looked squarely in the other man’s eyes. “Blacked out.”
“Blacked out? Really?” Broussard rubbed at the stubble of his chin. “Is there any chance that you could have hurt him and not remember?”
Kevin shrugged again. “I suppose. It wouldn’t be the first time I blacked out.”
Broussard stepped back and shook his head. “This isn’t good.” He glanced toward the end of the compartment then back to Kevin. “You need to stay hidden.”
“No shit?” Kevin stepped back into the shadows. “Your guard…”
Broussard glanced down the compartment and saw the man coming toward him. “I checked all down this side. Anything on your side?”
The guard shook his head. “Nope.”
“Is there another space we could check?”
The guard pointed over Broussard’s shoulder. “Next one over. Not as many hiding places, but it’s possible.”
“Onward then.” He fell into step behind the guard and fought the urge to look back to Dr. McAlester. “Let’s pray we find him before they do.”
Carol tried not to watch her newfound friend through the corner of her eye, but she found it difficult to concentrate on other things as Kelly milled about the small lab. She watched her create a bed on the opposite sofa in the breakroom, but all the while, she was making a mental note of anything and everything that could possibly be used as a weapon. Either by Kelly or on her.
“What are you working on?”
Carol nearly jumped as she measured out the growth media. For a moment she chastised herself for not knowing exactly where the other woman was and allowing herself to be startled.
“I’m working on some cultures.” She gave her a weak smile. “I’m testing other methods for transmitting the cure.” She stood tall and stretched her lower back. “It was a lot easier to do thing when Dr. Broussard was here with me.”
“Did he get killed?”
Carol shook her head as she picked up the pipettes and prepared to wash them. “The military came and ‘retrieved’ him.” She sighed as she slipped the glassware into the soapy water. “We both were working on the project aboard a ship and figured out a way to escape while…well, that part doesn’t matter. What does matter is they came and got him and pretty much left me here to fend for myself.”
“That sucks.” Kelly took a bite from a cracker and sat opposite of the workbench. “I bet you wish you were back on that boat right about now, huh?”
Carol shrugged. “I can get better visuals on the effects from here.” She gave her a weak smile. “Besides, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“Right.” Kelly slipped off the stool and leaned on the counter. “Because everybody wants to be friends with a bloodthirsty cannibal, right?”
Carol sighed and set down the beaker she had been scrubbing. “I told you—”
“And then I told you that I enjoyed it.” She popped the rest of the cracker into her mouth and chewed slowly. “I know it won’t make you feel any better, but I don’t have those urges anymore.” She looked up at Carol and for just a moment, her eyes declared that she was lying.
Carol nodded. “I’m glad.” She picked up the beaker again and shoved the bottle brush inside. “I can’t imagine what you and the others went through, but I know it was literally kill or be killed.” She rinsed the beaker then set it on the wire rack to dry. “I understand that much.”
Kelly sat back down and fished another cracker from the package. “It was the first and only time I ever felt like I had any power.” She slipped the cracker into her mouth and chewed slowly, her mind elsewhere. “When I wasn’t the victim.”
Carol sensed a chink in Kelly’s armor and was about to inquire when a loud crash in the hallway had both women frozen in place. They locked eyes then glanced to the laboratory doors. “Did you shut the outside door when you came up?” Carol whispered.
Kelly shrugged slightly, her face a mask of fear. “Is that…an infected?”
Carol shook her head. “I’ve no idea.”
The scream that echoed through the hall answered her question.
Simon marched his army toward the Cager’s compound and when the walls first became visible, he broke his people into three waves. “Use this.” He handed the lead hunter of each wave a lighter. “Remember, pour the liquid, light it, then shoot the arrow right away.” He slapped each man on the shoulder as they broke away, taking fighters with them.
Simon nodded to Clyde. “You’re with me, big man.” They marched to the open field directly across from the compound and slipped into the sparse groupings of trees. “Bows. Now.” Simon snapped his fingers.
The three best bowmen stepped beside him and nocked their arrows. As they readied themselves, Simon squirted lighter fluid on the rags tied to each arrow. He turned and nodded to Clyde. A quick flick of the lighter and the arrows were aflame.
“Fire!”
Chapter 26
Hatcher ran down the hallway, the AR tight in his grip. “Get those men to the walls!” He pointed to Roger. “Man the East side. That’s our weakest link.”
“Already on it!” Mike ran through the double doors leading to the courtyard and grabbed two men entering the lobby. “You two, on me!”
Hatcher slammed a magazine into the w
ell of the AR and exited the lobby. He could see what looked like torches in the distance and was about to yell to the sentries when the torches arced through the night sky, thumping hard into the roof behind him. “What the hell?”
“Arrows!” a man at the wall shouted. “They’re shooting ARROWS at us!”
Hatcher gave the man a confused look then turned and stared at the flaming arrows stuck in the roof. “That can’t be…”
“Heads up!” Somebody tackled Hatcher, sending him roughly to the ground as another volley peppered the exterior defensive wall and a few landed just feet from where he’d been standing. The man who tackled him was back on his feet and threw his body against the adobe wall. “Thanks,” Hatcher muttered as he got to his feet. “I owe you one.”
“Incoming!”
Hatcher rolled toward the wall and ducked under its mud brick protection. He heard arrows strike the outside and more landed inside the perimeter. Glass broke and a woman’s scream spun his head. He saw the first licks of fire inside the room and knew that things were about to get really bad, really fast.
He pulled his radio and keyed the mic. “I need people on standby to fight fires! Get every available body on fire extinguishers and have them at the ready. The rooms are already burning!”
He lowered the radio and cursed under his breath. “How the fuck is this Zulus? They don’t have the mental capacity to—”
“Incoming!”
Hatcher ducked lower and noted the lack of gunfire. “Shoot the goddamned archers! When they light the arrows, you light them up!”
He slung his rifle over the top of the wall and began firing into the dark. He noted that more and more of the men opened fire and he actually smiled when he saw flame hit the ground in the distance. “That’s one.”
Roger’s voice came across the radio. “Hatch, we got a shit ton of spears and arrows over here.”
“Shoot the fuckers!” Hatcher screamed back.
“They’re launching in waves. I’ve lost two men already!” Roger did his best to control his voice but Hatcher could hear the panic.
He turned and caught three men exiting the lobby, rifles in hand. “No! Go to the East wall. Back up Roger and the others.”
He turned his attention back to the attack and popped his head over the edge just as arrows zinged past him. He ducked again and cursed under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”
Big Mike pushed his way past the other men and set his jaw as he approached the front wall. He slung his rifle over the edge and began to sight in the light skinned bodies darting just outside the edge of the lights. “Angle those UV lights deeper onto the horizon!”
The man next to him shook with fear and remained ducked behind the wall. Mike looked down at him and scowled. “I ain’t moving from here, man.”
“Useless!” Mike pushed past him and stepped onto the edge of the old scaffolding. He reached for the light and felt his wound threatening to rip open. He took a deep breath and braced his body on the top of the adobe wall, pushing himself up to reach the base of the light. With a quick twist of his wrist, he angled the UV lights further along the horizon, putting the would-be attackers in view.
He lowered himself next to the cowering man and leveled his rifle on the darting bodies. Round after round belched from the rifle, sending hot brass towards the man cowering under the wall. “Jeezus! Do you have to be right there?”
Mike barely slowed his rate of fire when he reached down and picked the man up by his shirt front. “Get in the fight or get back inside with the other women!” He tossed the man aside then redirected his rounds.
The cowering man hunkered low and duck walked back toward the building. He glanced back at Mike and noted that he didn’t even flinch as the next volley of arrows sizzled right past his position.
Mike slammed another magazine into the rifle and pulled the charging handle. He glanced out toward the grouping of trees where most of the flaming arrows originated and had to blink as a leather-clad figure briefly lit up as another arrow was set aflame.
“It can’t be…” He angled his rifle toward the trees and focused his scope. Mike held his breath, keeping the scope steady as another brief flash of light put Simon into an orange glow. “He’s like a fucking cockroach. Why won’t he just DIE?!”
Mike squeezed the trigger, sending round after round into the spot where Simon had just been. If he couldn’t shoot him, he’d bury him under a mountain of hot lead.
Roger ducked as another volley of spears and arrows zinged overhead. “Where the hell are they coming from?” He shouted to the men along the wall, “Spray and pray fellas! Let’s move ‘em back!”
He laid his carbine across the top of the adobe wall and squeezed the trigger, praying that some of his rounds hit what they were supposed to. He squeezed his eyes shut as hot brass flew around him then forced them open to see the others following suit.
With the others laying down cover fire, Roger popped his head up and shouldered his rifle. He could barely make out pale bodies running in the darkness and he tried to herd them, firing into their paths. He watched one buckle and tumble and assumed he took out the target.
He ejected his magazine and slammed another into the well. Charging the rifle, he popped his head up again then felt something punch him in the shoulder.
Hard.
He tumbled back and fell off of the short scaffolding. He landed flat on his back, the wind knocked from him. As he scrambled to get his feet back under him, the pain in his shoulder radiated out, sending his neck into spasms as fire shot down toward his fingertips.
He knew what it was before his eyes focused on the arrow shaft protruding from his vest. “I’m hit.” His voice cracked as he tried to stand. He felt his legs go out from under him again and he fell to his side. “Medic…” Roger blinked rapidly as his vision grew darker. He inhaled deeply and tried to push himself up to a sitting position.
“Dude! You’re hit!” Roger didn’t see the man approach but he felt him grip the sides of his tactical vest and lift him to his feet.
“I think I’m bleeding too much.” Roger continued to blink rapidly and take deep breaths, trying to force himself to stay conscious. “I need a medic to wrap this so I can get back in the…in the…” His head flopped to the side and his legs went out from under him.
Carol ducked behind the long workbench and tried to blow out the candle closest to her without exposing herself to the double glass doors. Kelly lay on the floor next to her, her breath coming in pants as panic set in.
“We need to snuff the lights,” Carol whispered.
Kelly shook her head. “Too late. They’re already in the hall. If the lights go out now, then they’ll know that—”
Her thoughts were cut off by a blood curdling scream in the hallway. She turned wide eyes to Carol and watched as the researcher held a finger to her mouth, shushing her. “Maybe they’ll move on,” she whispered.
The glass door vibrated in place as the infected beat against it. Kelly’s entire body began to tremble as the doors rattled in their frames and Carol scrambled across the floor, pulling open a drawer away from the intruder’s line of sight. She reached over the edge and carefully sifted through the items.
“What are you doing?” Kelly hissed.
“Weapons.” Carol pulled a scalpel from the drawer and held it tightly. “Just in case.”
Kelly shook her head as the beating increased in volume. “That door isn’t going to hold.” She glanced to the side and caught a warped reflection of herself in the stainless steel cabinet door. Her hand instinctively went up to her head and she winced at the lack of hair. She could see the pale reflection and knew what she would see if she looked at the glass door.
She looked at Carol and gave her a tight lipped smile. “See you in the funny papers.”
Carol froze as Kelly came to her feet, her face twisting into a mask of rage. “What are you…” She swallowed the words that tried to escape her mouth as Kelly launched herself over the
workbench and shot towards the glass doors. For a brief moment, she feared that she was about to let the infected into the lab. Her eyes darted to the window, her mind trying to assess the damage a jump from a third floor window would do to her.
She froze when she heard Kelly scream and slam her hands against the metal frame of the glass doors. She snarled and hissed, her body swaying back and forth in unison with the infected man standing in the hallway. Carol sunk deeper into the corner and watched as Kelly put on a show, first challenging the interloper then mocking him as he screamed and hooted in the echoing hallway.
She clutched the scalpel tighter and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to hear the unmistakable sound of the glass doors shattering, the thump of bare feet on the tile floor, and the ensuing scream that would signal her end.
“Hair and semen?” Dr. Broussard raised a brow at the master at arms. “But you can’t determine who they are from?”
“The medical officer compared the hairs to the victim and—”
“There are three distinct types of human hairs.” Broussard interrupted. “Without a DNA analysis, nothing can be determined.” He crossed his arms and stared the larger man down.
“We aren’t set up for such fancy shit here.”
“Well, isn’t this your lucky day then. It just so happens that I am an expert in DNA analysis and genetics.” He waved is arm back toward the lab. “And I just so happen to have all of the necessary equipment to perform such an analysis.”
The MA scoffed and stepped forward. “Like you wouldn’t falsify the results to protect your friend.”
Dr. Broussard stiffened and glared back at the man. “Sir, I will have you know that I am a professional. While Dr. McAlester may be a colleague, we are not friends. I seek the truth and only the truth. If the results come back as a match to your victim, then so be it.” He stepped back and his features softened slightly. “Do you really think I would wish to continue working with a murderer? Should the results come back as a match, that is exactly what you are proposing.”
Caldera 8: Simon Sez Page 19