Caldera Book 6: New World Order

by Stallcup, Heath

  “Barely.”

  Roger studied Hatcher staring off at nothing. He waved a hand in front of his face. “What’s up? You’ve got something on your mind.”

  Hatcher seemed to snap out of it and shrugged. “I’m just not used to being on the shitty end of my sister’s good graces.”

  Roger raised a brow. “Ya don’t say?”

  Hatcher sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I made her bring Mike over here.”

  Roger nodded. “Well yeah. We moved out of the other place so it only seems the decent thing to do.”

  “I know, right? Except she’s giving me grief because it’s ‘too soon.’” He shrugged. “What else could I do?”

  Roger groaned. “I would have made the same call.”

  “Don’t tell her that.” He slowly stood up and stretched. “We have CCTV.” He pointed to the monitors.

  “I heard.” Roger squinted at the black and white pictures. “We should see about moving some to the wall.”

  “Cooper and Stanton are on it.” He looked through the plexiglass window at the empty lobby. “I’m guessing everybody is getting settled in?”

  Roger nodded then drained the rest of the water. “I think Ida is putting together a little something for chow.”

  Hatcher paused and gave him a confused look. “Ida?”

  “She’s the main cook. You know, the real tall lady with the mole on her chin. Looks like she spilled chili?”

  Hatcher seemed shocked. “I never knew her name.” He slowly shook his head. “You’ve been here a few weeks and you already know more people than I do.”

  “I doubt that’s true.” Roger waved him on. “Come on. You’ll feel better after getting some food in your gullet.”

  Hatcher groaned as he fell into step with Roger. He paused and peered through the windows. “It’s dark out.”

  Roger nodded. “Yeah, it does that after the sun goes down.”

  Hatcher suddenly felt panic. “We need to kill the lights!”

  Roger stiffened then glanced down both hallways. “There’s too many.”

  “The main breaker.” Hatcher ran to the maintenance closet and jerked open the door. He reached inside and opened the breaker box. “I hope this works.” He flipped the main breaker and the building was instantly shrouded in darkness.

  He could hear the groans and mumbled complaints from people before he shut the door. He turned to Roger. “You take the east wing, I’ll go west. Explain to the folks why we did it.”

  “On it.”

  Hatcher flipped on his flashlight and went room by room. “Until we beef up security outside, it’s blackout conditions at night.”

  There were groans and a few complaints but most agreed with his reasoning. Unpacking and eating cold meals were not what they had envisioned, but they would sacrifice until security was improved.

  When Hatcher finally walked through the doors of the cafeteria, he was met with hostile stares and mutterings. He almost turned around, opting for a cold MRE in his office, when Candy grabbed him and dragged him to the front of the line.

  “I, for one,” she stated loud enough for the room to hear, “am glad that somebody is thinking of our safety.”

  Hatcher groaned as she dragged him to the stack of trays and pulled one down for him. “Load him up. He needs to keep his strength up.”

  The woman that he now knew as Ida gave him a sideways smirk. “Luckily, all the cooking’s done.” She plopped something on his tray that he couldn’t identify in the dark. “Cleaning up might not be as easy without lights.” She bent forward and lowered her voice. “I was really looking forward to using that dishwasher back there.” She plopped something else onto his tray and Hatcher sighed heavily.

  “I’m sorry Ida. It’s just until we can—”

  “I know. I heard.” She plopped a third something on his tray then hooked her head to the side, indicating that he was blocking the line.

  Hatcher let Candy lead him to a table and he sat near a window, the moonlight casting an eerie glow as he picked through the slop on the tray. “I never realized how much seeing your food improved the flavor.”

  Candy snorted and sipped at a glass of iced tea. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a COLD drink?” She slid his cup across to him and he took a sip.

  “Oh, yeah.” He nodded as he wiped the sweat from the plastic cup. “I might actually enjoy living here.”

  Candy nudged his leg under the table. “Maybe we can make that perimeter fence a priority?”

  Hatcher held the fork just in front of his face. “Security IS the priority. Not just the fence.”

  “Yeah, I like your new TV setup.” She cracked a grin. “I don’t suppose you get cable on that thing?”

  “Just your shower.” He winked and shoved the food into his mouth quickly.

  “Still not funny.” She tossed back her drink and stood. “I’m getting more before the ice melts. Need a refill?”

  He shook his head. “I’m good.” He glanced through the darkness. “Where’s Roger?”

  “Shower. He wants to use the hot water before it’s all gone.” She bumped the table with her hip as she stepped away. “Thanks again for the liquor.”

  Hatcher groaned. “Yeah and thanks for that visual.” He held the fork in front of his mouth again but just couldn’t bring himself to eat. He pushed the tray aside and finished his tea before standing up.

  Stanton appeared at his side. “We have trash cans just for food items.” Hatcher nearly jumped at his voice in the darkness. “No time like the present to start composting.”

  “Yeah,” Hatcher sighed, “composting.” He pushed away from the table and squinted into the darkness. The number of people milling about the cafeteria impressed him. He felt an overwhelming urge to spread hope and before he knew it he was tapping on his tray with his fork.

  “If I can have everybody’s attention for a moment?” He waited for the quiet murmuring to stop then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry we cut the power on you all without warning. That was entirely my fault. It had gone dark before I realized it and…anyway, tomorrow night, if the exterior perimeter fence isn’t finished, we’ll leave the power on, but the lights have to go out. Until the fence is finished, we stay dark at night.”

  “I can still run the dishwasher?” Ida asked to a round of quiet chuckles.

  “Yes ma’am, you most certainly can.” Hatcher tried not to smile but her attitude was contagious.

  “Then I might let you eat here again, Mr. Hatcher.”

  “Thank you, Ida. I appreciate the sentiment.” He pushed away from the table and picked up his tray. “That’s all I got folks. I just wanted to say I was sorry for plunging you into darkness.”

  He received a soft round of applause, each wanting to show appreciation without making too much noise.

  He walked to the trash cans and scraped his tray. As he set the tray aside he glanced out the window and felt a wee bit of hope himself. “I hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

  “You don’t understand! We’ve been attacking this from the wrong angle!” Broussard tried to impress the importance of his revelation on the yeoman.

  “I don’t care. The captain is a busy man. He doesn’t have time for—”

  “For saving humanity?” Broussard interrupted. “Because that is exactly what we are talking about here. Rather than having mankind extinguished from the planet, we might be able to actually cure the infected.”

  “Might.” The yeoman nodded smugly. “I can’t bring every hair brained idea up the chain of command just to see who might salute it.”

  Carol stepped between the two and tapped at his chest once more with her finger. This time he scowled like he might stop her from ever poking someone again. “We don’t give two shits who salutes what! We were brought here to work on a cure and now we think we have a viable course of action!”

  The yeoman clenched his jaw and swatted at her poking finger. “I don’t care what you think. It was you and your
bright ideas that cost the lives of nearly thirty people on your previous ship. Do you REALLY think the skipper wants that kind of ‘research’ to go on here?”

  Broussard squared his shoulders and stepped into the short man’s personal space. “It is precisely this kind of closed mindedness that demands we have an audience with whoever is in charge here.” He bent low and gave his best menacing voice. “Do it, or else…”

  The yeoman stiffened and squared his shoulders. “Or else what?”

  Broussard smiled at him; it sent a cold chill up the sailor’s spine. “Or else when we finally do find the cure, we’ll be sure to skip your treatment.”

  The yeoman swallowed hard but still shook his head. “I…I can’t be bothering the captain with something like—”

  “Something like what?” Captain Proctor stepped into the space and gave his yeoman a curious look. “What’s going on here?”

  Broussard sighed and pushed around the yeoman. “Captain, I am Dr. Broussard from—”

  “I know who you are.” The captain crossed his arms and studied the two researchers. “What is it I can’t be bothered with?”

  Stinky sat on the front steps of the house, his stomach threatening to turn on him again as Shooter paced in the yard, his eyes scanning for more of the creatures that surely must be headed their way. Both men shuddered as the female Rager screamed and wailed, her cries a constant barrage to their senses.

  Stinky leaned over and puked what little food was still in his stomach. The sour taste of bile and stomach acid lingered as he spat into the dried remains of the yard.

  “What the hell is he doing up there? Torturing her?”

  Stinky nodded slowly. “Definitely.”

  Shooter cringed. “The sadistic bastard. What’s he doing? Cutting her into tiny pieces or…” His words were cut short by a single gunshot that caused both men to jump.

  “Thank god it’s over.” Shooter mumbled.

  Stinky looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. “Is it?”

  Simon clomped down the stairs, laughing. “Boy, you did a good job on that knot. She bucked and kicked like a bronco, but she didn’t get loose.”

  “What the hell, Simon?” Shooter whispered in the dark. “You trying to get them all over here or what?”

  Simon laughed again then tugged his zipper up. “Some things are worth the risk.”

  Shooter’s eyes widened as he stared at Simon. “You’d risk infection just to…to…”

  “Infection? Fuck no!” Simon quickly pulled his zipper down and whipped out his torture device. He pulled the whiskey bottle from his vest pocket and poured it across the offending part. “Ooh, shit. That burns.” He looked up with mock surprise. “Hope I didn’t get the clap!” He laughed as he tilted the bottle back and took a long pull.

  “You’re sick, man.” Shooter felt his stomach turn and he looked at Stinky. “You should have told me.”

  Stinky slowly shook his head. “What could you have done?” He spat the last of the bile from his mouth and slowly came to his feet. “Simon’s gonna do what Simon wants to do.”

  Simon nodded. “Hell yeah.” He laughed again then pointed at Shooter. “Simon says…I’m getting my dick wet!” Another round of laughter burst from him and Stinky felt the urge to shoot the man.

  “You are one twisted son of a…how could you rape that woman?”

  Simon stiffened and glared at him. “It weren’t no rape. That ain’t no woman.” He took another drink of the whisky then screwed the cap back on the bottle. “That’s a critter. It ain’t human.”

  “So…what? Bestiality? Do we need to lock you up around dogs and cats, too?”

  “Watch yourself, Shooter.” Simon slowly tucked his tool away and animatedly zipped his pants. “It ain’t like we have a shit ton of women to choose from these days.” He pointed up the stairs. “That? That weren’t no rape. That was…beating off into something warm, that’s all.”

  Stinky turned and dry heaved again.

  “What’s a matter boy? Did you want some? She’s probably not cooled down yet–not with the workout I give ‘er.”

  “Knock it off, Simon.” Shooter glanced around again. “We need to get back before it gets any darker.”

  “Well then…” Simon pointed to the road. “Lead the way.”

  “I’ll stay behind,” Stinky said softly.

  Simon turned and gave him a nasty grin. “I knew it. While she’s still warm.”

  Stinky shook his head and slowly spit. “No, Simon. To take care of the bodies.” He turned and gave him a stoic look. “If I don’t do something with them, the smell will attract others. We don’t want that, do we?”

  Simon sucked at his teeth then shook his head. “You do that. That’s a good idea. Glad I thought of it.” He turned and started down the sidewalk. “Don’t take too long, now. You don’t want the boogers to catch you all alone out here!” He burst into another round of laughter as Shooter escorted him back.

  Stinky watched them go then turned and trudged back into the house. He slowly made his way up the stairs and walked to the master bedroom. He saw the female’s body bent over the end of the bed, her head splattered on the mattress between the male’s feet.

  The signs of Simon’s torture were evident in the scrapes and bruises along the woman’s back and shoulders. Stinky fought the urge to vomit again and quickly pulled the large bedspread from the floor. He draped it over the two bodies and pulled the door shut.

  He walked cautiously to the other end of the hall and pushed the door open slowly. The lump was still where he’d left it; he spoke softly as he approached the comforter.

  He did his best to sound soothing as he lifted the edge and peered beneath. He could just make out the little girl’s pale form, still curled against the wall.

  He pulled the comforter off of her and noted how wide her eyes were, caught in a thousand yard stare. He could only imagine the terror she felt as she listened to her mother scream…at least, he assumed the older female was her mother.

  Who could know for sure?

  He coaxed the child off of the floor and he wanted to cry at the condition she was in.

  Stinky had no idea what possessed him, but he threw caution to the wind. He scooped the child up and carried her to the bathroom.

  He set the child carefully on the edge of the tub, her little filth covered feet inside, resting on the rubber flowers glued to the bottom. He rummaged through the bathroom and found a washrag. He turned on the sink and groaned when only a bubbling sound came from the faucet.

  He stood up and stared at the back of the child’s head. “It’s okay, darlin’. There’s other sources.” He lifted the lid on the toilet tank and dipped the rag inside. He squeezed most of the water out and began at her head, softly working the chunks of dirt and filth from her scalp. He cringed as what little tufts of hair she had left came off with his gentle scrubbing.

  “Some people look good bald.” He spoke softly and evenly as he continued to scrub her skin. “You’d be purdy either way.” He stiffened and looked cautiously at her. “Not that I…I mean….” He swallowed hard, unsure if she even understood him. “You do know that wasn’t me that hurt your momma, right?”

  He leaned close and tried to look in her eyes. “I’d never do nothing like that. Ever.” He carefully wiped the months of filth from her skin. “I’m Trevor, by the way. That’s the name my ma gave me. That asshole that was here, he calls me Stinky, but you can call me whatever you want.”

  He lifted her tiny hands and scrubbed the dirt from between her fingers and wiped her palms clean. He could feel a sadness forming deep in his chest that he couldn’t explain. Hell, he couldn’t explain why he’d spared this girl, much less anything else he’d done.

  He continued to dip the rag in the toilet tank and wring it out in the bowl. Even in the darkness of the bathroom, he could tell that the water was nearly black.

  He lifted each of her feet and scrubbed as much dirt from them as he could before scrubbin
g down her legs. He paused just above the kneecap and looked to her face. In the dim light of the moon, she still had that far away stare. He reached out and turned her little face to his. “I wanted to get you cleaned up and put some clothes on you, but…” He shook his head. “We don’t have to wash no further if you don’t…”

  His words were met with a vacant stare. He pressed the rag into her hands. “Do you remember how to do it?”

  He let go and her hands loosened, dropping the rag. He let a low groan escape then pulled her to her feet. “This ain’t nothing, okay? I’m just…we’re cleaning you up.”

  He swiped gently at her skin then called it good enough. The child had been running around wearing an inch of dirt. A slight layer in her private parts wouldn’t kill her.

  He lifted her frail little body from the edge of the tub and paused as he noticed the dark brown streaks running toward the drain. He shook his head as he carried her to the bedroom and set her gently on the mattress.

  “Please tell me you got some clothes around here.” He looked at her, praying for some form of acknowledgement. He shrugged as he spun a slow circle. “Is this even your house?”

  He pulled open the drawers and found various kid’s clothes. He held them up to the moonlit window and tried to guesstimate the size. “Sweetheart, I have no idea if these will fit. We’re just gonna have to try them.”

  And so it was that Trevor Daniels spent the better part of the evening cleaning and dressing a ten-year-old infected girl. The entire time he couldn’t understand, or perhaps admit why. His rattled brain kept telling him that it was a wasted effort, but in his heart, he knew then what he had to do.

  Chapter 10

  Will Stanton inspected the section of wall that the men had cut out and approved of the footing they had poured. He found a man in the group that had worked one summer as a bricklayer’s apprentice; that was better than no experience at all, so he was put in charge.

  “In this new world of ours, any work experience is a plus,” Will stated.

  Hatcher nodded. “We’re lucky we have such a diverse group.”