Return to Yellowstone

by Heath Stallcup

  More than once he considered leaving in the middle of the night. Just point the bike west and not look back until he hit the ocean. But he knew that there were just as many groups of people like theirs out there as there were herds of ragers. Although the thought brought him comfort, he knew his odds for survival were slim to none.

  He took one last glance at the camp being broken down in his side mirrors, then goosed the accelerator. They had a lot of territory to cover and very little time to do it in.

  He felt sorry for whomever they ran into. Whether this asshole in the truck was part of their group or not, whomever they ran into would be picked clean and left to the ragers.

  Dr. Vivian LaRue rubbed her eyes, then tried again to refocus the microscope. She really didn’t like what she was seeing. All the antivirals they’d used to date were actively fought off by the host’s own immune system. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the mechanism. If they had been using a bacteriophage to deliver a foreign strand of DNA or even RNA, she could see the immune system fighting back. But antiviral drugs?

  She had long since given up the idea of using a capsid to deliver rewritten nucleotides to overwrite the viral DNA. The body fought those even more aggressively. She was at her wit’s end on how to attack without the original primordial virus.

  Her hopes were to study the primordial virus, discover a way to override the nucleotides within it, and basically inject hosts within it in order to eradicate the mutated forms. Without any samples of the primordial virus, she was lost. Of the dozen or so specimens brought onto the research vessel, none carried the original primordial virus. Either they had been infected with a mutated form, or the virus they carried mutated within the body.

  She sighed and rubbed her neck as she stared at the specimens through the two-way acrylic window. The first infected they dropped into the holding rooms tried desperately to attack their reflections. It wasn’t until they brought in the ultrasonic frequency generator that the captives calmed down.

  She often watched them, and other than their blood-filled eyes and haggard appearance, they almost seemed…normal. At least until feeding time. The subjects refused to eat any foods that were prepared for them. They even refused the raw meats. But toss a living creature in the room and they went bananas. Rabbits, sheep, hogs…anything tossed in the room when the frequency generator was turned off was quickly ripped to shreds and consumed. They would eat well past their bodies’ ability to actually hold the food. Some would regurgitate and start again. Others literally ate until their stomachs burst and their bodies would die a slow and painful death.

  For that reason, they kept the generators on while the living creatures were introduced to the holding cells. They timed the subjects and not one attacked while the generators were active. But the very moment the generators were turned off, it was gory carnage. She had gotten used to feeding time at the zoo as the military personnel would say, but she still couldn’t handle the crunching of the bones. Skin, hair, hooves, even intestinal contents were all consumed leaving nothing but bloody smears where the animals had once been.

  It took her a while to convince the higher ups to install the sea water showers overhead. The smells were simply becoming too much to bear. The brass had an issue with pumping sea water into a floating craft, however, the engineer came to their rescue by designing a floor drain that could be pumped overboard.

  The first time they hit the shower button, the subjects didn’t look up to see where the water was coming from. They meandered in their cells as if nothing were happening.

  She often wished she could get neuroimaging of the subjects both with and without the generators running to do a comparison. She couldn’t get the request approved. The risks were too high for such small dividends. How could they know the dividends?

  A tech entered her workspace and set down an envelope. “It’s from Captain Hollis.”

  Vivian sighed and reached for the envelope. The man has a degree in biology or chemistry or…something. Now he thinks he’s a doctor. She ripped open the message and read it. She rubbed at her eyes then read it again to be sure she read it correctly. “Natural immunity?” Her head jerked up and she reached for the door.

  “When is Captain Hollis due back?” she asked the retreating form.

  The tech turned around and shrugged. “He’s on his way now. Should be landing within an hour.”

  A slow smile spread across her features and she did a fist pump in the air. She’d heard rumors of certain civilians having a natural immunity to the virus. But now she’d finally get a chance to study one.

  Chapter 7

  Hatcher stepped off the chopper and stared at the flurry of activity. He stuck his arm back inside and helped both Jason and Bren from the craft. “Looks like we’re here.”

  Jason pulled Bren close and she clung to him as the pair were lead to a gray steel door. “We’ll get you cleaned up, get some food in you, and find you a place to rest,” a man in coveralls and a helmet informed them as he held the door open. “Just follow the ladder below and they’ll get you set up.”

  Captain Hollis pushed past the other men disembarking the craft. “Get this bird checked out, refueled, and ready to go at first light. We have a long way to go tomorrow and we’ll be pressed for time.”

  He trotted to the open door and grabbed the handrails leading downward. He slid down the ladder and landed hard behind Hatcher. “Get some chow and sleep if you can. We leave at first light and we have a long trip. We’re currently steaming northward up the coast. We’ll be leaving from somewhere around the California-Oregon border. As it stands now, even with extra fuel tanks, we’re going to have to stop over in Boise to refuel.”

  “Stop in…I thought there weren’t any safe places left?” Hatcher felt his bullshit-o-meter peg.

  “There are a few bases that are holding their own. But for complete safety, offshore is best.” He gave him a crooked grin. “Even if the Zeds could swim out this far, they couldn’t climb up the sides of these ships.”

  Hatcher gave him a cautious stare. “But you’re saying there are viable places to refuel along the way?”

  Hollis nodded. “A few. They’re heavily armed, and they fought tooth and nail until we got them the ultrasonic generators.”

  Hatcher and Jason both gave him questioning looks. “What ultrasonic…whatsit?”

  Hollis sighed. “It’s some kind of ultrasonic sound. It calms the Zeds. You can walk right through them and they won’t look at you twice.”

  Hatcher opened his mouth to inundate him with questions, but Hollis held a hand up, stopping him. “Look, I don’t know the particulars, I just know that it works. We have them on the research vessel and it keeps them docile. It’s like tranqing a wild animal.”

  Hatcher’s eyes grew wide. “Wait just a goddam minute. I thought you said there weren’t any of them out here? Now you’re saying you actually have some on board the ships?”

  Hollis groaned. “They’re in bulletproof cells. The generators keep them from wigging out, and yeah…you can’t really do research on them unless you have test subjects.” He placed a hand on Hatcher’s shoulder. “Trust me. Every precaution has been taken. They can’t get out and they’re contained. They’re only on the one ship, and, if need be, we can remove that ship from the fleet entirely.”

  “You mean blow them up, don’t you?” Jason asked, his voice cracking.

  Hollis shook his head. “That would be the wrong thing to do. Our researchers are all on that vessel. Look, it’s safe, I promise. You’ll see it all first hand when we drop you off there.”

  “Drop us…what?” Jason’s voice went up an octave as panic hit.

  “You want to stay with the girl, right? Well, the research vessel is where you’ll be staying.” He stiffened and squared his shoulders. “Trust me, will ya? I wouldn’t have brought you all the way here just to risk your lives.”

  Jason glanced at Hatcher, who shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “It will
be fine, I promise. In the meantime, the chow hall is right down there. Follow the smells. From there they’ll get you a room and some clean clothes.” He patted Jason on the shoulder. “Relax. You’re safe now.”

  He pushed past the trio and marched deeper into the craft. Hatcher looked to the others and noted their fear. “We have to trust him.” He glanced around and shook his head. “They’ve made it this far without incident. I have to believe they know what they’re doing.”

  Jason pulled Bren closer and she seemed almost catatonic. “We trusted you, man. You said—”

  “I said I would get you to the research center. Since this is the only one left, I think I’ve kept my word.” He dropped his voice and leaned closer to the pair. “Your other option is to head off into the wilderness with me and Captain Jackass there. We’re only going to Ground Zero to find the original bug that caused this shit storm.” He pulled back and gave them both a stern look. “Believe me, you’re safer here with them.”

  Jason swallowed hard and gave him a faint nod. “If you say so.”

  Hatcher took a deep breath and stood straighter. “I say so.” He turned and headed toward the chow hall. “I just pray I’m not lying.”

  Squirrel released the throttle on the Indian and downshifted, listening to the rumble of the engine as it slowed his momentum. He braked softly and practically coasted to a stop.

  Staring across the barren rolling hills, he took in the small town and ignored the other men stopping on either side of him. “What’s wrong, boss?”

  Squirrel shook his head. “Nothing. Just getting the lay of the land.” He cut off the engine of the bike and pulled a map from his saddle bag. He unfolded it and stared at the small town on paper. “Two of you check the casino. Two more check out the hotels.” He pointed to the man on his left. “You’re with me.”

  “Where we going?”

  “We’re hitting the residential areas.” He glanced up and noted the trash and debris scattered across the streets and yards of the small town. “Be prepared to bug out at any moment. Ragers could be anywhere…or everywhere. If you run into more than you can handle, bail and head back here.” He turned and faced the men. “Remember, we’re always looking for resources. Food, fuel, booze, ammo…but our primary goal is to find out where that truck came from. Understood?”

  “Copy that. We’ll hit the casino.” The man on his right fired up his motorcycle and Squirrel watched as the pair rode off.

  “I guess we’ll take the hotels.” The next pair rode off and Squirrel shoved the map back into his bag.

  “I meant it. If you see anything—”

  “I got yer back, boss.” The man pulled a pair of .45 caliber revolvers and flashed him a wicked grin. “These things will stop a bus. I doubt the ragers would stand a chance.” He shoved them back into his jacket and fired up his engine.

  Squirrel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let the fun begin.”

  He rode the motorcycle through the residential areas. His head was on a swivel as they passed row after row of adobe or stucco-covered buildings. He tried not to cringe at the smells that would blow across their paths. The sickly-sweet stench of death was thick in certain areas. The heat and stillness of the wind made it that much worse.

  He weaved the Indian around anything on the road that might damage it and tried to avoid the bones littered across his path. Apparently the ragers left pieces for the wildlife to fight over, and those pieces had been picked clean and left to bleach in the sun.

  He thought he saw a curtain flutter, but noted the window was closed. He waved his arm to get the other man’s attention and pointed to the house. “Somebody inside.”

  His partner flashed a brown-toothed smile and goosed his Harley up the road and into the driveway. As he dismounted, he pulled the pistols and marched to the front doors. “I got this.”

  He threw a heavy-booted foot against the doorjamb and stepped back as the door flew inward and bounced off an interior wall. He spun to the side and hugged the outer wall of the building as a blast echoed through the small residential area.

  Squirrel had just slid off the bike and was turned toward the house when the shotgun sent shot through the open doorway. He ducked behind the Indian and pulled his 30.30 carbine from the side-mounted sheath.

  He glanced up after the second blast and watched as his partner rolled around the corner of the doorway and brought both pistols to bear on whoever was inside. Repeated shots echoed through the small valley and Squirrel had just made it to the door when his partner strolled out, a double-barreled shotgun cradled across the crook of his arm.

  “It’s all clear now.” He grinned again as he flipped open the revolver and began replacing the spent cartridges.

  “Did you check the back rooms?”

  The man shook his head. “If there was anybody else in there, I think they would have come a running when I blew this asshole’s brains across the living room.”

  Squirrel groaned and darted inside, the 30.30 leading the way. He went room to room and verified that the building was now empty. As he reentered the living room, he shouldered the weapon and kicked a pile of trash out of the way. He entered the tiny kitchen and tossed open the cabinets.

  Nothing.

  “What the hell was he doing in here with nothing to protect?”

  His partner leaned against the wall and shrugged. “Maybe he hid it?”

  Squirrel stood and stretched his neck. “Either way, this obviously ain’t where the truck came from.” He turned and motioned toward the door. “Let’s put some distance between us and here before the ragers come to find out what all the noise is about.”

  As Squirrel replaced the carbine on the side of his bike he regretted catching that curtain flutter. Besides killing someone who might one day provide a valuable skill in rebuilding the world, they had gained nothing from the stop. No food. No ammo. No information regarding the truck…just a beat up old double-barreled shotgun and a dead body splattered across the living room of an empty house.

  He sighed as he straddled the bike and turned the engine over. “This is going to take forever.”

  “Want to split up?”

  Squirrel glanced at the man. “You suffer from terminal stupidity if you want to take off on your own.”

  His partner suddenly stiffened and glared at him. “You looking for a boot in yer ass?”

  Squirrel nodded toward the end of the street and the crowd of ragers sniffing the air. Luckily, they hadn’t been spotted yet. “Go ahead then. Take off. But without somebody to watch your back, you’re liable to run into a crowd like that one.” He hooked his chin back in the other direction. “I’m going back that way. Feel free to head in the other direction.”

  He hit the starter button on his bike and quickly turned out of the driveway and away from the quickly advancing crowd of screaming infected. His partner glanced toward the crowd and cursed under his breath. He nearly panicked when his Harley didn’t kick right off and nearly flooded the old engine before he finally got it to catch and roar to life. He left a strip of rubber on the cement driveway as he tried to put distance between himself and the running crazies that were quickly closing the gap.

  He caught Squirrel about two blocks from the house and pulled alongside him. “That was a dick move, boss.”

  Squirrel fought the smile that threatened to cross his features. “You were the one who wanted to go your own way.” He gave the man an exaggerated shrug. “That was your opportunity.”

  The brown-toothed man scowled as Squirrel throttled up and pulled away from him. He narrowed his eyes at the larger bike and the man who sat upon it. “Be careful, boss,” he muttered. “This could end up being a real dangerous trip for you.”

  Jason paced nervously as Bren went through the examination process. He chewed at his thumbnail and continually glanced at the small round window embedded in the door. It was crusted with just enough grime that he couldn’t really make out anything on the other side.

&nbs
p; He practically jumped back when the door pushed open toward him. “Oh, excuse me.” A woman in green scrubs paused and stared. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “How is she doc?” He tiptoed and tried to peer past her shoulder. “She okay?”

  The woman stripped the rubber gloves from her hands and tossed them into the waste bin beside the door. “She’s fine. Picture of health, other than being a bit malnourished.”

  “There’s not exactly a buffet to sign up for out there, ya know.”

  “Understood.” She dropped her mask into a cloth-lined basket and pulled the gown from over her shoulders. “Your friend told me how bad things has gotten out there. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

  Jason crossed his arms and held them tightly, nervously swaying as he spoke. “It is what it is.” He glanced toward the door again, then back to the woman. “Is she coming out?”

  “She’s getting dressed.” The woman reached out and took him by the arm, leading him from the door. “Tell me about how she got scratched. She said she was running from one of the infected?”

  He nodded quickly and tried to peer back toward the door. “Yeah. They was chasing us and nearly caught her.”

  “And you saw the creature actually scratch her?”

  He turned and gave her a duh stare. “Who the hell else would do it?”

  “I’m just trying to clarify the situation here. I’ve sent her blood work to the lab to check for the virus, but it will be a while before we hear back.”

  “I can’t say for no virus, but I saw the guy scratch her. He was screaming his fool head off and his eyes were as red as blood.” He cocked his head mockingly at her. “Sounds infected to me.”

  She nodded absently, ignoring his behavior. “We’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, we have a room being made up for the two of you.” She paused and studied him. “You two are together, yes?”