Stinky nodded then handed him the pill bottle. “This one is every four hours. Like clockwork.” He fished another bottle from his pants. “This is for pain. These are stout so, only as necessary.”
Sinner held the bottles up. “Got it.” He reached out and grabbed Stinky’s arm. “We’re in this together.”
Stinky smiled. “You bet we are.”
Chapter 8
Will Stanton was bent over a pencil drawing, pointing out planned expansion areas to Hatcher. “If there is enough fencing material, I’d really like to enclose this area here. We can utilize one of the outbuildings as a barn and build stables here.”
Hatcher looked up at him. “Stables?”
Will shrugged. “Eventually we will run out of fuels, unless you stumble across a few electric vehicles while making runs out there. Then we will need to consider alternate forms of transportation.”
“Horses.”
“And possibly cattle,” Stanton added. He quickly stammered, “For food, not transportation.”
Hatcher chuckled. “I assumed.” He leaned back and stared across the courtyard. “You really think a hydroponic garden is doable?”
Stanton shrugged. “As I stated, anything is doable with the proper tools, equipment, manpower, and funding.”
“Right, but, in all actuality? Hydroponics? Wouldn’t that put a strain on our resources?”
“Not at all. If anything, it’ll extend them.” Will pushed his glasses up and motioned with his arms while he spoke. “The water is all recycled. We use aquarium pumps to aerate the water and there are still tons of liquid fertilizers that we can utilize.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “With a proper greenhouse and maybe some LED growing lamps, we could have fresh fruits and vegetables year round.”
Hatcher sighed at the idea. “That does sound good.” He turned back to the plans when the sound of a truck approaching caught his attention. “That may be Wally with the concrete blocks for the fence.”
Hatcher trotted to the front gates and slowed when he saw Vicky trying to back up a van. He pulled the gate open and walked out to meet her. “You’re cutting it kind of close, aren’t you? It’s nearly sundown.”
She stepped down from the van and gave him a dirty look. “If I’d had my way, I’d still be at the warehouse.”
“Look, Vic, we discussed this and—”
“No, Daniel. I tried to discuss this and you barked orders.” She lowered her voice and glared at him. “If you weren’t my brother I’d tell you to go to hell.” She threw her thumb back over her shoulder. “He’s too weak to be moved.”
Hatcher stepped out of the way as the side door of the van opened and Mike stepped out with Stella steadying him. Hatcher glanced at Vicky then reached out to help him. “You look like you’re getting around pretty good for somebody who was gutted.”
Mike used Hatcher as a crutch and took a step away from the van. Hatcher noted his pasty complexion and the beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.
“Hey, hold on. Just sit here and I’ll get you a wheelchair or something.”
Mike nodded weakly as Hatcher trotted back inside. He knew there were dozens of wheelchairs; he just wasn’t sure where one wide enough to fit Mike’s huge frame might be.
He found the storage room where most had been put and rifled through them. He pulled out one and smiled. “If his big ass don’t fit in this one…” He quickly turned and trotted for the door.
Vicky held the door open for him as he came through. “Nice, but it’s too little too late.” She muttered as he passed by.
Hatcher ignored her and wheeled the chair up to the big man. Stella helped to lock the wheels then they both lifted and got him seated. Stella grabbed the handles and nodded for him to release the brakes. “I’ve got him. He’s my big lug.” She kissed the top of Mike’s shaggy head then turned him toward the door.
Hatcher watched as she wheeled him inside then looked at Vicky. “Come here.”
He took her by the arm and practically dragged her to his office. “Look at this. We have video feeds now.” He stepped back and gave her a smug look. “Now tell me he won’t be safer here.”
Vicky shook her head. “He shouldn’t have been moved, Daniel.” She pointed to the monitors, “Yes, you have security now. Congratulations. But if he loses ground on his recovery…” She threw her hands in the air and marched to the door. “Tell me if you get HBO on those things.”
He watched her disappear into the hallway and he sat, dejected, on the corner of his desk. “I can’t win for losing.”
“Bitches, man.” Cooper grinned at him.
Hatcher held a hand up. “She’s my sister.”
Cooper’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah? She single?” He smiled broadly under the bush of grey whiskers then tugged his chin hairs with his hand. “I clean up pretty good, ya know.”
Hatcher stifled a laugh and nodded. “Currently, yes. She’s single.” He waved Cooper on. “Give it your best shot.”
Coop squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “The hunt is afoot!”
The yeoman gave Broussard a questioning look. “I have no record of an Andre Broussard.”
“That’s Doctor Broussard, and I was flown in from France. I’m a virologist.”
The yeoman raised a brow. “You’re telling me that with our limited resources, somebody authorized having YOU flown in from across the Atlantic?”
Carol stepped forward and tapped at the man’s chest. “The president himself authorized it. Look it up.”
The yeoman nodded, a disbelieving look on his face. “That’s just it ma’am. I AM looking it up. There’s no record of him.”
Carol planted her hands on her hips and thrust her jaw out in defiance. “So what? Are you gonna toss him overboard?”
Broussard turned and gave her an anxious stare. “Do not listen to her.”
“If I can’t verify who he is, then he gets reassigned.” He scribbled something on his paper and added absently, “Maybe he can work in the galley or something.”
“The GALLEY!” Carol stepped between the two men. “Listen buster, before you go and do something that will permanently damage any hope for our species, perhaps you could pick up the phone…or…radio or whatever and just ask the president. I’m sure he’ll vouch for Dr. Broussard.”
The yeoman dropped his pen and gave her a droll stare. “Seriously? Just call the president. ‘Hey, Mr. Walters did you happen to order a researcher from France because I think FedEx dropped him off on the wrong ship.’” He shook his head at the pair. “He’ll be lucky to work in a galley now.”
Carol opened her mouth to give him a double barrel blast of “what for” when Broussard pulled her back and shook his finger in her face. “Have you never heard to collect more bees with honey than hatefulness?” He scowled at her. “They will fix this. Just have faith.”
“Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Like we would lie about your credentials!” She threw her hands into the air. “And if they don’t find me a bathroom PDQ, we’ll need a mop in here.”
Broussard’s face twisted in confusion. “What is…PDQ?”
“Pretty damned quick.” She sat down heavily on the metal crate and pouted. “We can’t verify who he is…” she mocked. “Is it really that hard to just call somebody? It’s not like before. Surely the president doesn’t have THAT much on his plate these days.”
Broussard pulled a crate up beside hers and sat next to her. “Try to see the bright side ma chère, there are far fewer people in here now,” he gave her a soft smile, “for when you make your PDQ mess.”
She tried not to laugh but her body was fighting the effects of an angry adrenaline rush. “These people epitomize government bureaucracy at its worst.”
Broussard nodded. “Oui. It is much the same in France.” He snorted a short laugh. “Well, it used to be.”
“Is it bad there, too?”
He nodded gently. “Oh, Oui. Very bad.”
She sighed and
patted his leg. “I’ve heard estimates that the population has been reduced by as much as ninety percent.” She turned hopeful eyes to him. “Do you know?”
He shrugged. “That sounds accurate.” He slumped on his crate and sighed heavily. “It could be more, perhaps less.”
“Is anybody else fighting to find a cure?”
He shrugged again. “Many are still arguing over the origins of the germ. They cannot understand how a virus that supposedly made the Neanderthal extinct could suddenly manifest on the other side of the world.”
She nodded. “I can see their confusion.” She sat back and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Vivian once told us about a man she worked with; I think his name was Andersson.” She tapped at her chin as she tried to recollect the story. “Anyway, she said that they stumbled on the DNA in their research and eventually concluded that it was, in fact, a prehistoric virus.”
Broussard nodded. “I have heard of this. They were going to publish.”
“Yeah. Anyhow, she knew this military researcher. Somehow, they already knew about the virus. They were actually trying to find a way to weaponize it or some such.” She turned and faced him. “Vivian suspected that the virus was ancient. Like, possibly pre-Paleolithic, even. If she’s right, there’s every possibility that it once was a common bug worldwide.”
Broussard smiled as the pieces fell together. “But because it was thermophilic, it would only be active in very hot environments.”
Carol nodded. “Like the thermal vents at the bottom of the ocean or…”
“Or the thermal vents in Yellowstone.” He shook his head. “We just figured out in moments what many back home are still arguing about.”
“I don’t understand why they would argue over its origination instead of pulling together to fight the wee beastie.”
Broussard sighed heavily. “Much like Dr. LaRue’s desire to have the primordial samples, they, too, wished to know first its source in order to try and combat it.”
Carol shook her head. “We needed the primordial DNA sample because the virus has mutated so many times.”
“That’s where we find the common genetic sequence…and…” He turned and gave her an excited look.
“What?”
“Why didn’t I think of this before? You find the common genes! Exploit the COMMON genes!” He jumped from the crate and turned to the guard at the door. “Excusez-moi, but I must speak to whoever is in charge, maintenant!”
Simon shoved the last shell into the shotgun and pumped it. He sneered at the door and nodded to Shooter. “Now.”
Shooter pushed the door open and Simon flipped on his flashlight. He barely caught a blur shoot across the opening between the living room and kitchen. “Yeah, they’re in there.”
Stinky swallowed hard and glanced over his shoulder. “Simon, it’s almost dark. They sure seem more active in the dark. Maybe we should come back tomorrow and—”
“No! We kill ‘em now.” Simon stepped through the entry and scanned the area. “They’re not leaving here alive.” He motioned to Shooter. “Around back. Nobody gets out that door, got it?”
Shooter nodded then bolted for the corner of the house. Stinky watched him disappear and wasn’t sure what was more dangerous…the Ragers or Simon.
“Come on.” Simon stepped deeper into the house and motioned for Stinky to go the other direction, around the staircase.
Stinky shouldered his shotgun and had to force himself to breathe as he slowly made his way around in the shadows. He caught a slight movement and pulled the trigger, blowing a neat hole into a wooden door.
“Didja get him?” Simon yelled from the other side of the lower level.
“I-I ain’t sure.” Stinky stepped forward and pushed the door open with the barrel. He waved the barrel back and forth, lighting the room with the attached flashlight. “I don’t see nobody.”
“Don’t waste your ammo then!” Simon barked.
Stinky’s hands shook as he went room to room. He ended up in the kitchen where Simon met him moments later. “I didn’t see nobody.” Stinky whispered.
“What are you whispering for? You done shot your gun. I’m pretty sure they know we’re here.”
Stinky nodded. “Then why ain’t they attacked?” He glanced nervously behind him. “They never cared if we had a gun before. They just kept coming.”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe they finally got some smarts to ‘em.”
A sound upstairs had both men staring at the ceiling. “Guess where they went.” Simon chuckled as he made his way to the stairs.
“Wait…Simon?” Stinky fell into step behind him. “How’d they get up there? We cleared the front of the stairs and nobody got past us. You seen somebody down here and—”
“Quit yer bitchin’.” Simon barked as he started up the steps. “Just keep your eyes open and so help me, if you shoot me, I’ll skin you alive.” Stinky nodded and made sure his barrel was pointed away from him.
Simon scanned both directions once he stepped onto the landing. “You go left again.” He turned right and began checking rooms.
Stinky swallowed hard and went to the first bedroom. He pushed the door open and scanned the darkening room. The closet door was standing open and he could tell that it was empty.
He turned and slowly made his way to the next room. He pushed the door open and froze.
A small, pale child sat beside a messed up bed, her eyes wide and her hands outstretched as if her open palms would stop his double ought buckshot. Stinky tightened his grip on the shotgun and prepared to fire.
The child scooted farther back into the room, her head tucked behind her knees and her hands waving him away.
Stinky stared at her frail little body. She was practically skin and bones. Most of her hair had fallen out and what little was left reminded him of the pictures he had seen of cancer patients.
He took a deep breath to screw up his courage and placed his finger on the trigger again. He stepped closer and the child peeked over her knee only to duck her head again.
Stinky felt his determination melt away and he lowered the shotgun. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and could hear Simon in the other rooms.
“Dammit to hell.” He marched over and pulled the heavy comforter from the mattress and draped it over her tiny body. He lifted the corner and could just make out her quivering form. In a hoarse whisper he quickly said, “I dunno if you can understand me, but if you want to keep breathing, you’ll stay under here and don’t move!”
He kicked some random items toward the lump in the floor then turned for the door. “I ain’t seeing nothing. How about you?” He stepped into the upstairs hallway and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Come here and check this shit out.”
Stinky swallowed hard and rounded the corner of the landing. Simon stood in the doorway of a bedroom and pointed inside. “You ever see anything like this before?”
Stinky stepped into the room and froze. A grey figure lay on the bed, obviously dead, a bullet wound to the midsection. Beside the bed and quivering in the floor in fear was a female Rager. Like the child, most of her hair was missing and her skin was mottled grey with deep purple lines.
Unlike any of the Ragers he had ever encountered before tonight, she lay hunkered in the corner of the room, her hand up in defense. She was emaciated. Her body looked as if she was about to starve to death and for a brief moment, Stinky felt sorry for the sad creature.
“You ever see anything like that before?” Simon laughed. He teased the creature with his flashlight, forcing the woman to squeeze her eyes shut when he flashed the beam in her face.
“No.” Stinky lied. “Damndest thing I ever seen.”
Simon hunkered low and chuckled. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He poked at the woman with the barrel of his shotgun forcing her to scramble back up against the wall. “She actually looks afraid, don’t she?”
Stinky nodded, suddenly finding his mouth very dry.
/> “She don’t look like she’s a danger, Simon.” He placed his hand on top of Simon’s shotgun and tried to lower it. “Just let her be.”
Simon turned and gave him a maddened stare. “Are you stupid?”
Stinky shook his head. “No, I just…look at her!” He pointed at the creature quivering in fear. “She ain’t gonna hurt nobody.”
Simon laughed and it sent a cold chill up Stinky’s spine. “No, she ain’t gonna hurt nobody.” He stood up and lifted the barrel of the shotgun, bracing it across his shoulder. “But she might be of some use.”
Stinky turned and gave him a questioning stare. “What do you mean?”
Simon reached behind him and pulled a lamp from the bedside table. He pulled on the cord until it snapped loose then gave Stinky a knowing look. “We’re gonna have some fun.”
Stinky felt his stomach drop and he shook his head as he backed away slowly. “No, Simon, that ain’t right.”
Simon slid the shotgun from his shoulder and leveled it on Stinky. “Tie her up.” He smiled again but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Be careful now, boy. Don’t let her scratch ya.”
Chapter 9
Roger stepped into Hatcher’s office and plopped into the chair across from him. “Wally and Buck found enough blocks to maybe patch one of the holes.” He pulled the leather gloves from his hands and slapped them across his thigh. “Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow.”
Hatcher nodded absently. “And the perimeter fence?”
“It looked to be going well.” Roger unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water and took a long drink.
“You know we have running water now, right?”
Roger nodded. “I’ve refilled this one twice already.” He smiled broadly. “Well water is sweeter than city water.”
“That city water has been sitting dormant for months.”
Roger cringed. “Well…better than nothing, I suppose.”
Caldera Book 6: New World Order Page 7