Caldera Book 7: The End Is Here

by Stallcup, Heath

Carol pulled out a fresh set of gloves and held the door open for him. The pair walked down the hallway and into one of the open bays. A large stainless steel tank sat along the wall. She pulled the gloves on then reached for a sterile container. “Do you care to pour?”

  Broussard reached for the small T-handle and waited until she held the container directly below the small stainless spigot. “Ready?”

  She nodded and he twisted the handle, allowing a slow stream of clear fluid to fill the specimen cup. She held a hand up and he twisted the handle shut, cutting off the flow. She quickly sealed the lid and held it to the light. “Pale amber.”

  “Almost ready.” He gave her a knowing smile. “Let’s check it.”

  She carried the cup carefully to the lab and they slipped it inside a sealed chamber. She slid her arms into the rubber gloves attached to the front then activated the sterilizing spray. Satisfied that the exterior was now clean she opened the cup and poured a small amount of its content onto a slide. A drop of Gram’s stain followed by a slide cover.

  “Ready.” She maneuvered the slide to the access port and slipped it inside the small chamber. Once the inner door was sealed, Dr. Broussard opened the outer and removed the slide. “I’ll prepare a sample for DNA profile.”

  He nodded and positioned the slide under the stage clips of his microscope. He adjusted the ocular and spun the objective to the proper magnification. Once the image was focused he smiled. “It is quite prolific.” He sat back and pointed to the microscope. “Care to view our creation?”

  Carol quickly set aside the sample and hovered over the microscope. “Oh my. That’s a much higher count than I would have expected.”

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” Broussard shook his head as his smile spread. “We could have a city sized dose ready by morning at this rate.”

  Carol sat back and stared at the ceiling, her smile widening. “Please tell me that we’ve finally got the upper hand on this.”

  He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Once we check the profile, we’ll know.”

  She nodded and sat up. “No time like the present.” She grabbed the sample and headed to the opposite side of the lab. “Fingers crossed…”

  “Son of a BITCH!” Simon screamed as Shooter tried to hold him down.

  “Hold still. I need to get a better look.” Sinner growled through clenched teeth.

  “I’ve been fucking SHOT!” Simon yelled, gripping the edge of the table as Shooter pressed harder on his chest, pinning him to the top.

  “No shit.” Sinner ripped open a bandage with his teeth and held it in his good arm. “Now sit still so I can…”

  “What?” Simon screamed. “How bad is it?”

  Sinner stepped back and dropped the gauze. “It’s barely a scratch.”

  “The fuck it is!” Simon screamed as he pushed his way to a sitting position. “It burns like the fires of hell. I think I’m gonna lose my arm!”

  Shooter stared at the wound and shook his head. “It barely broke the skin, boss.”

  “I don’t care!” Simon screamed. “It hurts, you fucker!”

  Sinner leaned back and fought the urge to laugh. “You’ll live, Simon.” He tossed the other package of gauze down on the table. “All you need is some triple antibiotic and a band aid.”

  “No way. I need surgery or something.” Simon pulled his shoulder toward him and stared at the red stripe where the flesh had been grazed. “Holy fuck that hurts…it feels like my damned arm is going to fall off!”

  Sinner raised a brow at him. “It’s barely a flesh wound. It didn’t even go through the meat.”

  “How would you know?” Simon screamed. “My arm hurts so fucking bad right now…I need your pain pills.”

  Sinner raised a brow at him. “I actually WAS shot. Through the shoulder.” He shook his head at him. “All the way through.”

  “Yeah? Well…mine went in and came out. That’s a through shot.” He glared at the larger man. “Gimme some pills.”

  “Take aspirin.” Sinner came to his feet and walked out of the dining room.

  “Give me your pills!” Simon shrieked.

  “You have pills, Simon.” Sinner pulled the small orange bottle from his pants pocket and flipped the lid open with one hand. He shook the bottle and shook out a single Lortab. “I’ll spare you one.”

  “Give me that bottle.” Simon glared at him, his face becoming feral.

  Shooter grabbed the open bottle of cheap whiskey and poured it over the open wound. Simon yelled again and jumped away from him. “What the hell are you doing? That’s good hooch!” He snatched the bottle from Shooter and tilted it back.

  “There’s your pain medicine.” Sinner scoffed. “Tie on another good one and you’ll forget all about that little scratch on your arm.”

  Simon slammed the nearly empty bottle onto the table and glared at him. “I need a pain pill.”

  “And yet, you’ll have to make do with what you have.”

  Simon’s eyes went wild and he was about to launch himself from the table when Shooter stepped in the way. “I’ll go and check the houses again. I’m sure there are some pain pills around here someplace.” He swallowed hard and pressed a palm to Simon’s chest. “Don’t do nothing stupid, boss.”

  Sinner nodded. “Yeah. Don’t do nothing stupid.”

  Simon’s eyes went wild then suddenly calmed. He turned to Shooter and gave him a slight smile. “Thank you, Shooter. Your willingness to help is much appreciated.”

  Shooter nodded nervously and backed away. “Just lie down and I’ll bring em to you split-lickety, boss.”

  Simon nodded then turned for the hallway. Shooter watched him shut the door of the bedroom then turned on Sinner. “Why didn’t you just give him the damned pills?”

  Sinner glared at the much smaller man. “They’re mine.” He pointed to his shoulder. “I actually was shot. I need ‘em.” He pointed down the hall with his good arm. “He just wants them cuz he’s a pillhead.”

  Shooter threw his hands in the air. “Don’t get into it with him, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reached for his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders. He paused at the door and turned back to Sinner. “It would go a lot quicker if I had somebody watching my back.”

  Sinner glared at him.

  “I’m just saying.” Shooter glanced down the hall to the bedroom. “Besides, you wouldn’t have to worry about him trying anything stupid while we’re gone.”

  Sinner stood at his full height and squared his shoulders. “Why not? I might find me some more, too.”

  Shooter grinned at him. “That a baby. Now you’re thinking.”

  “What the hell?” Hank stammered. “S-she’s infected!”

  “Patricia, go back to the bed! Now!” Trevor threw the RV into park and pointed a finger at Hank. “I told you to mind your own damned business.” He shook his head at the man threateningly.

  “DAAHH!!”

  Trevor spun and saw Patricia holding her belly and doubling over. “Oh no…hold on!” He tugged the seat belt off and scooped her up while Hank watched in horror.

  Trevor stepped back to the rear of the RV and jerked open the bathroom door. A moment later a gut wrenching stench filled the small camper and Hank fought the urge to vomit. “Oh my god…what is that..urk!”

  He pushed open the passenger door and leaned away from his seat. His entire stomach contents came up and hurled onto the pavement. Just as he thought he was finished, the stench washed over him again and he felt his body tighten, bile and stomach acid spewing from his throat once more.

  Hank finally unbuckled and stepped just out of the cab. He bent over and spit, trying to clear his mouth. He stabbed at the window button and watched as the glass slid down into the door; he stood with one foot on the ground and tried to breathe through his mouth. “What the hell is going on back there!?”

  A moment later Trevor stepped out of the bathroom with Patricia in tow. His eyes were watering and he looked as if he were
trying not to join Hank in losing his breakfast.

  “She has…tummy issues.”

  Hank spat again and did a quick farmer’s blow to clear his nose. “Must have been somebody she ate.” He glared at Trevor. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were transporting a Zulu?”

  “I told you to mind your fucking business.” Trevor glanced around the cab for his AR. “You can walk from here.”

  Hank shook his head as he climbed back into the RV and slammed the door. “No fucking way.” He turned so that he could keep an eye on the girl. “If you show up without me, Wally will skin you alive and probably kill her, too.”

  Trevor stiffened. “Don’t threaten my baby.”

  Hank held his hands up. “I ain’t threatening nobody.” He refused to take his eyes off of her tiny form as she made her way to the back of the RV and lay down on the mattress. “I’m just saying that if you want to get gassed up and out of here, I need to ride back with you.”

  Trevor’s jaw quivered in anger as he made his way forward and slid into the driver’s seat. “Not a fucking word about her, understand?”

  Hank snorted as Trevor put the camper into gear. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.” He leaned against the passenger door and continued to watch as she curled into a fetal position and closed her eyes. “How’d she get like that?”

  “How the hell should I know.” Trevor’s eyes scanned the area as he drove. “I found her that way.”

  Hank turned and stared at him. “She’s not your real kid?”

  Trevor glared at him. “She is now. That’s all that matters.”

  Hank sighed heavily and turned his attention back to the girl. “She’s never…attacked you?”

  Trevor shook his head. “She actually stood up to her own kind to protect me.” He sniffed back a tear and choked, the stench still strong in the small camper. He quickly rolled down his window to air out the vehicle. “I found her and she needed me.”

  Hank gave him a curious look. “Sounds to me like you needed each other.”

  Trevor gave him a hateful stare then slowly his features softened. “You’re not going to try to hurt her are you?”

  Hank shook his head. “If she ain’t hurting me, there’s no reason to hurt her.” He turned his attention back to her still form. “She’s just a kid.”

  Trevor slowly nodded. “She’s been through a lot.”

  Hank turned back to him. “Did she just call you ‘dah’?”

  “She don’t talk much.” He cleared his throat and glanced in the rear view mirror. “She can say ‘dahdee;’ pretty sure it means daddy.”

  Hank snorted. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

  Trevor gave him another dirty look. “How’s that?”

  “It’s just I didn’t think that any of them could make a coherent thought much less try to talk.”

  “Well, she can.” He glanced at her again then added, “She’s my little girl. We’re watching out for each other.”

  Hank gave him a slow nod. “I got ya.” He turned and stared out the windshield. “What’s the deal with the stink, man?”

  Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeding her people food.” He shrugged. “Maybe it don't agree with her system. But she’s trying. She’s trying real hard.” He smiled softly. “She loves peaches.”

  Hank placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good for her.” He swallowed hard then turned back to him. “I still think you should consider giving the compound another try.”

  Trevor gave him a wild eyed stare. “Are you stupid? They’d never let her in there.”

  Hank shrugged slowly. “Maybe if they knew that they could be reached…?” He glanced back at her sleeping form. “Once they saw that she wasn’t a threat…I don't know, man. It could change things.”

  Trevor shook his head. “Would you let your kids play with her? Would you let her run loose around ‘normal’ folks?” He shook his head more vigorously. “No. You wouldn’t.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “And if it was anybody else, I wouldn’t either.” Trevor cut him off. “No. We’re better off on our own.”

  Hank sat back and nodded. “If you say so. But you know, there is safety in numbers.”

  Trevor snorted. “Funny. Simon used to say the same thing.”

  Chapter 9

  Hatcher twirled a quarter on the surface of his desk, his hands busy while his mind sifted through old memories. Why did she have to mention that old mutt?

  Images of Freeway ran through his mind. He smiled to himself and felt his eyes getting misty when he remembered the day he buried his beloved, faithful friend.

  “What was that other dog’s name? Ranger?” He tapped the quarter on the desktop, trying in vain to remember the dog. He had a vague recollection of a black collie mix, but…time was a bitch on memories.

  Hatcher sat back and sighed heavily. Was Vicky right? He groaned as he sat forward again. “That would be the worst part…”

  “What would be?”

  Hatcher spun and caught Roger coming in the back. “If my sister was right. I’d never live it down.”

  Roger reached for the coffee pot and poured a quick cup. “Women usually are right, Hatch. Get used to it.”

  “You have to say that or Candy’d have your nuts.”

  Roger snorted and set the cup down. “She already does. I think she keeps them in a jar on her dresser.”

  “Not funny.”

  Roger leaned against the file cabinet and nodded toward him. “So what is Vicky right about?”

  Hatcher blew his breath out slowly and slid the quarter into the desk drawer. “She thinks that I’m pushing people away now. Keeping them at arm’s length so I don't get attached.” He shrugged. “In case I lose them.”

  Roger sipped the coffee and nodded. “Makes sense. In a ‘chick’ sort of way.”

  “I won’t tell anybody you said that.” He gave Roger a knowing look. “In case you ever want to see those balls again.”

  Roger cut him a cheesy grin and held the cup up in salute. “Thanks.”

  Hatcher leaned back in his chair again and eyed Roger. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  Roger hiked a brow. “For what?”

  “Everybody says I barked at you earlier…and that you didn’t deserve it.”

  Roger shook his head. “Dude, my skin is thicker than that. I used to be a cop, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you’ve become a pretty valuable member of the team. They’re right; you didn’t deserve to be talked down to like that.”

  Roger shrugged. “I didn’t give it a second thought. You shouldn’t either.” He tossed back the last of the coffee and set the mug next to the pot. “If you need me I’ll be out there. Doc’s putting the finishing touches on his IEDs.” He narrowed his gaze and lowered his voice. “Just knowing that he can build homemade explosives kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies, ya know?”

  Hatcher nodded. “Makes me glad he’s on our side.”

  Roger pulled the door open and glanced down the hallway. “I’ll give you a heads up when he’s ready to test them.”

  “You might want to pass the word amongst the residents. We wouldn’t want a panic thinking we were under attack again.”

  “Copy that.”

  Hatcher watched him walk away and he took a deep breath. “Yeah, dammit. He’s a Freeway.”

  “And these are the tanks that we’ll use to transport the cure.” The sailor patted a large stainless steel tube. “It can be pressurized, right?”

  Carol looked to Broussard, who nodded. “As long as the pressure isn’t too high.”

  The sailor shook his head. “I think it’s around a hundred pounds, but…I’m not positive.”

  “I think they’ll be okay.”

  He gave the researcher a confused look. “They?”

  “They’re…it’s bacteria. Trillions and trillions of bacteria.” Carol added proudly.

  The sailor’s face scrunched. “Lik
e biowarfare?”

  “Against the virus, yes. It should be relatively harmless against the uninfected. Perhaps a sore throat or a mild fever.”

  The sailor rubbed at his neck and nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Don’t worry, soldier. Once this is out in the world, everyone will eventually contract it; they’ll have immunity to the viral attack.”

  “Yeah?” The sailor stared at the large stock tank and slowly shook his head. “Using bugs to kill other bugs. What a kick in the ass.”

  “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” Carol patted the young man’s arm. “We can start the transfer first thing in the morning.”

  The young man snapped from his reverie and nodded. “I’ll pass the word along, ma’am.”

  Carol and Broussard stepped out into the hallway and made their way back toward the lab. She watched as the sailor passed their door then she shut it and turned to Broussard. “Is this really about to happen?”

  He gave her a slow shrug. “It’s past time, don’t you think?”

  She sighed and fell into her chair. “I can’t help but think that the CDC would have thought of this if were indeed viable.”

  “Perhaps if they’d had the time.” Broussard leaned against the table next to her chair. “We can only do our best.” He glanced across the lab then toward the door. “I know that our…testing wasn’t exactly—”

  “Say no more.” She came to her feet and took a deep breath. “I know what you’re about to say and I’ll take the full brunt for it.” She turned and faced him. “It was unethical. It was…”

  “Wrong.”

  “I was going to say necessary.”

  “No you weren’t.” Broussard pushed off of the table and faced her. “We both know what it was.” He blew his breath out hard. “But you are right. It was necessary to test it before a real world application.”

  She lowered her eyes. “But…”

  “But we should have waited. Found somebody who would consent.” He glanced at her. “What we did was unspeakable.”

  “But it worked.”

  Broussard nodded slowly. “We hope.”