“How far past that hundred yards?”
The man shrugged. “Depends on the direction. To the north we have the open field, so it goes quite a way; the east is pretty clear too. The buildings on the south and west could provide a lot of cover if someone…or some thing decided to sneak up on us.”
Hatcher glanced in the directions he mentioned. “Maybe we should station lookouts out there, beyond the fences.”
The man shrugged. “We’re stretching our sentries pretty thin as it is.” He leaned against the rail of the fort and gave Hatcher a nod. “Could we use the cameras?”
Hatcher turned and studied the devices. He glanced back toward the residential area to the west. “Maybe we can get some wireless cameras and jury rig them into the system.” He spun a slow circle, looking for Will. “Where’s Stanton?”
The lookout pointed to the greenhouse being erected. “Last I seen him he was in there.”
Will stepped out of the enclosure, his head already shaking. “The system isn’t compatible with wireless cameras.” He approached Hatcher and lowered his voice. “However, we could use proximity sensors, like the kind on security lights, except they would notify us of movement.”
“No way to get images?”
Stanton shook his head. “Not with the system we have installed.”
Hatcher sighed heavily and turned to face the residential area again. “I don’t want to get caught with our pants around our ankles again.”
Stanton pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “Technically, we weren’t. Our sentries spotted the would-be attackers right away.”
Hatcher shook his head. “I want as much heads-up as we can get.” He pointed to the residential area again. “Imagine how many Zulus could hide just in that area.” He raised a brow at Stanton. “Now imagine them all attacking at once.”
Stanton crossed his arms and imagined a force of infected storming the walls. “I am working on the explosives we discussed. I think once they’re ready, we could utilize trip wires and create a border that would give anybody cause to rethink their plans.”
Hatcher smiled and nodded at the thin man. “Like claymores.”
“Very much so, yes. Except these will also have shrapnel.” Stanton gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere close if they went off.”
“I like the way you think.”
Carol opened the door to Dr. McAlester’s room. “You are free to roam once more.”
“Thank god.” Kevin pushed up from the chair and reached for his lab coat. “How are my experiments?”
“They’re just fine.” She held the door for him. “I logged their growth for you.”
“Thank you.” He stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath. “Funny how the air smells better when you’re free.”
“If you say so.” She fell into step behind him and almost had to trot to catch up. “You must really be ready to get back to work.”
He glanced at her and shook his head. “I just feel so energized.” He pushed open the lab door and stepped inside. “I was going stir crazy in that room.”
He peered through the glass door of the incubator and smiled. “Hello my wonderful little petri dishes.” He tapped on the glass. “Did you miss me?”
“Oh please.” Carol brushed by him. “They’re not goldfish.”
“No, these are much more important.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Where is the second tray?”
She looked up from her notebook and shrugged. “We moved on to mass production. We needed the middle rack to jumpstart the bacterial growth.”
Kevin spun around, his eyes wide. “What did you do with the tray?”
She set her pen down gently and glanced around the room. “I’m almost positive that Dr. Broussard moved it to the storage area in—”
Kevin nearly knocked her over as he jerked open the door to the storage area. “No…oh no…”
“What’s wrong?”
He lowered his head and ground his teeth. “They were the standards. Without them, I have no baseline.”
Carol averted her gaze. “I’m sorry, Kevin. I didn’t realize.”
He shut the door slowly and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He sighed heavily and fell into the chair opposite of her workstation. “They wouldn’t have led to a cure, so they weren’t important.”
“What were they for?”
He shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter now.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Temperature variations…but…” he trailed off. “What’s the use?”
She gave him a weak smile. “If it’s any consolation, we have enough samples to send out to the other ships now for mass production. We’ll be able to seed the strep cure into most of the larger cities in a matter of days.”
“Yay,” Kevin deadpanned. He pushed up from chair. “I’m going to find something to eat.”
She watched him walk aimlessly into the hallway and turn toward the mess deck. She’d truly felt bad for having not given his work more credit when they removed the second tray. But she also knew that the cure had to take top priority.
Simon stepped out of the hybrid and shot a smile at Hank. “Well, well, well…who do we have here?”
Hank reached for the pistol on his hip just as Shooter opened fire from the driver’s door. He dove into the side of the pickup and tried to position himself where the tires could provide cover as well.
Trevor put the RV in park and ducked low, praying that no bullets ripped through the cheap metal of the Mercedes cab. He looked back at Patricia and yelled, “Get down!”
She tugged against the seat belt and whimpered to him.
Trevor crawled on hands and knees until he could reach her seatbelt and pressed the button to release it. “Go…hide under the bed! NOW!” He pushed her toward the rear of the RV.
Trevor slowly raised his head and stared through the windshield. He could see Hank squatting behind the bed of the truck, his pistol firing blindly over the edge.
For a moment, he contemplated throwing the RV into reverse and putting as much distance as he could between himself and Simon while Hank kept the bikers busy. He knew he couldn’t outrun the car, especially in town, but if Hank could buy them more time…
He crawled back to the front seat and stayed low as he slid back into the driver’s seat. He watched as Sinner stepped out of the car and tried to flank Hank.
“Son of a bitch.” He reached across the middle of the cab and gripped the AR tightly. “What the hell am I doing?”
He pushed the driver’s door opened and lowered the AR’s barrel, sighting in on Simon’s form hunkered beside the front of the small car. He could just make out his shoulder.
Trevor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his sights aimed at the black leather shoulder. He centered the pad of his finger on the trigger and as the last of the air left his lungs, he gently squeezed.
The shot and recoil made him lose sight of his target, but he saw Simon’s boots splayed out beside the car. He smiled to himself as he tried to angle over and get a bead on Shooter.
The man had ducked lower and he caught a glimpse of Sinner as he made was his way back toward the car, darting between the camper trailers parked by the roadside.
Trevor had Sinner dead to rights, but couldn’t pull the trigger. He knew that Sinner was just biding time. The man gave him the very rifle he now wielded. He blew his breath out hard and fired two more rounds in the general direction.
He smiled to himself when he saw the holes in the windshield. “Scurry off now, boys. You don’t want none of this.”
He watched as the car shot from the drive, tires squealing as Shooter cut a one-eighty on the paved road. He lowered the rifle and nearly jumped when Hank stood from behind the pickup.
“Where the hell did they come from?”
Trevor assumed the man was talking to him. He shook his head. “Wherever it is, I hope they go back and not return.�
�
Hank glanced at the truck and sighed. “They shot the radiator.”
Trevor shrugged. “Sucks to be you.”
“Hey, come on man. I gave you a ride here. The least you can do is give me a ride back.”
Trevor shook his head. “Actually, the least I could do is just leave you.” He cocked his head to the side. “OR…shoot you and leave you for the Ragers.”
Hank paused and gave him a stern stare. “That would be a pretty shitty thing to do.”
Trevor nodded. “Yeah. So, I guess it’s not so bad you have to walk.” He stepped back into the camper and slammed the door.
Hank walked up to the door and tapped on the glass. “You don’t think maybe Wally’ll have some questions when you show up and I’m not with you?”
Trevor hung his head. “Fuck.”
“Look man, just give me a ride back. We can take the dozer home from there.”
Trevor shot him a confused look. “That’s a pretty long drive on a tractor.”
Hank shook his head. “Not really. We’re set up just a few blocks from there.” He gave him a toothy grin. “I told you we relocated. Hot and cold running water, electric lights, the works.”
Trevor sighed and hit the unlock button for the other door. “Just to the tractor, then you go on your way and forget you ever saw us.”
Hank nodded. “Deal.”
He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. “I guess you’re lucky they never saw you over here.”
“What makes you think they never saw me?”
Hank pointed to the camper. “Not a scratch on her. And, you got a pretty good shot in on Simon.”
Trevor put the camper into gear and pulled through the back of the lot. “How do you know Simon?”
“We had him for a short bit.” Hank sighed and leaned his head back. “Asshole got away.”
“Too bad you didn’t kill him when you had the chance.”
“I’m beginning to agree with that idea.” Hank suddenly perked up. “How’s your girl?” He leaned across the seat and stared back into the camper. “You okay back there?”
“Mind your business.” Trevor barked. “She’s fine.”
Hank gave him a questioning stare. “You know, we have a nurse. She could take a look at her.”
“Nope.” Trevor turned the camper and pressed the accelerator harder, hoping to put as much distance as he could between him and where he last saw Simon.
“I’m sure it couldn’t hurt just to give her the once over. Vicky’s a really good nurse and—”
Trevor slammed on the brakes and Hank nearly hit the dashboard. He turned and looked at the man and Trevor had a finger in his face. “I said no.” He glared at Hank until he felt the message was made. “I’m not saying it again.”
Hank nodded and pushed himself back into the seat. “Okay man. Whatever.” He pulled the seatbelt around and buckled it. “I was just trying to make up for the—”
“Stop.” Trevor pressed the accelerator again and stared through the windshield. “Just leave it be.”
Hank nodded slowly and turn to look out the window. “Sorry.”
From the corner of his eye he saw something move and turned back toward Trevor. Patricia stood next to him, the hoodie pulled back from her face. She reached out and tugged his arm. “Dahh!”
Trevor spun and stared at her, his eyes wide. He glanced to Hank and there was fear painted on both men’s faces.
Chapter 8
Buck leaned against the doorjamb of Hatcher’s office. “You know, there’s a difference between being a leader and being an asshole.”
Hatcher looked up, his eyes stern. “Don’t push your luck, kid. I’m sober now.” Daniel pulled the pistol closer and scrubbed at it with a small toothbrush.
“I’m just saying.” Buck sauntered into the room and kept the desk between him and the older man. “Don’t get me wrong, if this is your attempt at bringing back the old you, I’m all for it. But barking at people who just want to help?” He shrugged slightly. “That’s just being an asshole.”
Hatcher blew his breath out hard and set the brush down gently. “Fine. Go ahead, speak your piece.” He leaned back and raised a brow at Buck. “Then get the hell out of my office.”
Buck nodded slowly. “I get it, okay. I might have been a bit disrespectful when we…talked. But it was a kick in the pants you needed to get back on track. You want to be pissed? Be pissed at me. Just don’t be taking it out on the others.”
Hatcher shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Earlier. You were barking at people, throwing your weight, bossing folks around.” Buck leaned against the file cabinet and gave him a knowing look. “They don’t deserve to be yelled at.”
Hatcher pushed the pistol away that he had been cleaning and crossed his arms. “Kid, I’m just doing my job. If I tell somebody that something needs doing, I expect them to do it.”
“What about Roger?” He pushed off the file cabinet. “He asks you a simple question and instead of telling him what’s on your mind, you snap, ‘it ain’t a request.’ That’s a dick move, Hatch.”
Hatcher blew his breath out hard and slowly came to his feet. “You can call me names if it makes you feel grown up.” He folded the towel over the broken down pistol then planted his hands on his hips. “And believe it or not, Roger is a big boy. If he has an issue with me, he knows he can come and talk to me. Like a grown up.” He stepped out from behind the desk and Buck moved toward the center of the room. “Everybody has made it clear that they want the old Hatcher back so guess what? He's back. If you don’t like the old me any better, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit ya on the way out.”
Buck shook his head and turned for the door. “I came here hoping to reach you but you’ve gone from one extreme to the other.” Buck held the door in his hand and met Hatcher’s gaze. “There’s got to be a happy medium in there that you can live with.”
“Get out.”
Buck nodded and stepped out into the hallway. He pulled the door shut and walked away without looking back.
“He’s right.” Hatcher turned and saw Vicky standing in the opposite doorway. “I mean, I don’t think you meant to sound all bitchy earlier and maybe it was the hangover, but you were barking at people.” She walked into the office and rubbed his shoulder.
“You too, Vic?”
She held her hands up in surrender. “I know that you can be the nicest guy in the world but I also know that even people who know you wouldn’t dare to cross you.” She directed him back to his chair. “You don’t have to detach yourself from people in order to lead them.”
Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t understand what you’re—”
“It’s obvious to me. You’ve stopped worrying so much, but now you are pushing people…keeping them at arm’s length.” She sat on the corner of his desk and patted his arm. “You think that if you push them away, it won’t hurt as much when you lose them.”
Hatcher raised a brow at his sister. “You Freud now?”
She shook her head. “I know you, Daniel.”
“Then you know I’m just trying to keep us all alive.”
“Do you remember Freeway?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Of course I do. He was my favorite dog.”
“Mom found him under the freeway, abandoned as a puppy.”
“That’s why I named him that.”
She nodded then lowered her voice. “And you remember when he died?”
Hatcher nodded. “Of course.”
“Then you remember Ranger?”
His face twisted in confusion. “Yeah, sorta.”
“They got him months later and you wouldn’t have nothing to do with him.”
“What’s your point?” He crossed his arms and stared at her.
“My point is, you were devastated when Freeway died. Then when they brought home Ranger. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” she reached out and took his hand, “b
ecause you were afraid to get close. You were afraid of the pain of losing another friend.”
He raised a brow at her. “I don’t know what you’re smoking, but stop.”
She gave him a tight-lipped smile and patted his hand. “I know that we’re not Freeway, but even us ‘Rangers’ need a little love.” She stood and kissed the top of his head. “Just…think about it.”
Broussard sealed the small plastic case and wrapped tape around it. “These should transport just fine. They have the instructions, oui?”
“They do.” The soldier held the case at arm’s length. “This shit ain’t radioactive or nothing, is it?”
Broussard fought back a chuckle. “It’s just a bacteria. One that can rewrite the DNA of the virus in the host.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It’s harmless, but it still needs to survive the trip to the other ships and avoid contamination.”
The soldier blew his breath out slowly and nodded. “Just checking.” He turned and walked slowly out of the laboratory.
Carol finished sealing up the next case and handed it to the courier. “Like he said, you need to stress that they handle this carefully. We can’t afford contamination.”
“Got it.” The soldier picked up the plastic case and turned for the door.
“That’s the last one.” Carol stripped her gloves and dropped them into the trash. “If they begin tonight, we could have enough to start with the West Coast in a matter of days.”
Broussard rubbed at the back of his neck. “Providing the nutrient broth is kept above eighty degrees, you are absolutely correct.” He sat down heavily and gave her a sad smile. “What do you think our odds are?”
She shook her head slowly. “Fifty-fifty.” She turned to face him. “Cross contamination could be our undoing.”
“I tried to make it as virulent as I could. Hopefully, if contamination does occur, the strep cure will overwrite the native strain.”
“That’s still a lot of ‘ifs’ to consider.”
Broussard glanced to the clock on the wall. “Speaking of, we should check our growth media.”
Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here Page 6