Caldera | Book 12 | Kingdom Come

by Stallcup, Heath

  “Not yet?” he asked, his voice trembling.

  The presence told him…no; it made him feel that the timing wasn’t right. Not yet. Yes, his soldiers were feeling the first pangs of hunger, but they needed to be desperately enraged. And they needed to be nearly starved—so hungry that it almost overrode their fury.

  Almost.

  Jedidiah nodded and released the door handle. “Soon, Lord.”

  The light faded and Jedidiah both sighed with relief and yearned for more. The light was so brilliant that it hurt his eyes…his mind. His very soul seemed to burn with its magnificence.

  Yet another, larger, part of him wanted to bathe in its radiance forever.

  He collapsed at the base of the double doors and tried to catch his breath as the light faded to shadow once again. He allowed himself a moment to relish its power before he pulled himself to his feet and trudged back to the office.

  He glanced up into the starry night sky and knew that the Lord was watching over them. It comforted him as he shut the door and prepared his body for rest.

  “Your will be done.”

  8

  Hatcher groaned as he slowly rolled off of the couch and barely caught himself before faceplanting into the carpet. “Christ, I hurt,” he growled as he pushed himself up from the floor. He came to his feet and tried to stretch his neck, his body protesting from the stiff sleep.

  “Coffee?”

  He turned slowly to find Roger standing in the space between the kitchen and living room, a steaming cup held in his hands.

  “Perfect timing…? Or have you been here all night?” He reached for the mug and slowly trudged into the kitchen.

  “In and out most of the night.”

  Hatcher blinked at the sunlight pouring in through the kitchen windows and tried to guesstimate the time. “How late is it?”

  “A little past eight.” Roger pulled a chair out and spun it around backwards before straddling it. “Rich thought his people would be here about sunup, but they ran into a lot of blocked roads along the way.”

  Hatcher nodded as he sipped at the bitter nectar. “Most of the exchanges were jammed.” He set the mug down and wiped at his eyes. “That was just part of the reason I wanted to switch rigs. The Jeep was great on open roads, but crossing those soft medians? Just not enough ground clearance.”

  “From what he reported, they mostly brought motorcycles. I’m guessing cruisers don’t do as well off road, either.”

  Hatcher ran the tap and wet his hands, running his fingers through his hair and slapping cold water onto his face. He leaned over the sink and tried to force the cobwebs from his mind. “What’s their ETA?”

  Roger shrugged. “Last we heard, they had just crossed into Colorado, but that was a few hours ago.”

  Hatcher took a long pull from the still hot coffee and tried to remember the condition of the highways. “It should be pretty clear sailing until they reach 64. There were a couple of pileups there that I had to work around.” He stretched again and reached for a kitchen towel to wipe the water from his face.

  “It was a tense night,” Roger added quietly. “The sentries are about burned out.”

  Hatcher nodded knowingly. “The anticipation of an attack stresses you out more than the actual battle.”

  Roger rubbed at his shoulder and shook his head, a slow smile forming. “I’m not sure I would agree. I seem to recall having an arrow dug from my body that I’d rather have anticipated than experienced.”

  Hatcher grunted as he swallowed the last of the coffee and poured another cup. “I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.”

  “And you’d be correct.” He stifled a yawn and stood to refill his own cup. “I tried to cycle the boys through every two hours. I thought maybe they could catch a few winks between shifts.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Didn’t work, did it?”

  “Not really.” Roger sat down again and blew across the rim of the cup. “They were wired too tight. Nobody got any rest.”

  Hatcher held his wrist up and blinked at his watch. “Shut them down. Set a normal, daytime sentry and get relief spotters for the boys in the ghillie suits down the block.” He took a sip from his mug and squinted out across the yard. “With the sun up, they’ll be a lot easier to spot. Use the women and younger boys to stand watch if you have to. We need to keep our trained sentries rested for night watches.”

  “Got it.” Roger pushed away from the chair and tried to drink down the rest of his coffee before leaving. “Anything else?”

  “Just make sure that everybody is armed.” Hatcher turned from the window and faced him. “We have to be ready for anything. Inform the night sentries that we need them to be Minutemen until this plays out. They need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. I don’t like the idea of women and children being our first line of defense, should the enemy get the drop on us.”

  Roger nodded, his face turned to the floor. “Do you think this sort of crap will ever end?”

  Hatcher’s face twisted. “What do you mean?”

  Roger set the cup on the counter and crossed his arms. “This. Having to constantly be ready to defend our borders.” He met Hatcher’s gaze and shrugged. “Will it ever die down enough that we can actually live?”

  Hatcher patted his shoulder as he walked by. “Only time will tell on that one, bud. My heart tells me that we are on the cusp of a whole new world.”

  “My mind keeps telling me that we’re grasping at straws. I keep asking myself if this is the kind of world to bring a child into.”

  “Children are our future. Without them—”

  Both men turned as Rich burst into the room holding his radio high. “We have a problem.”

  Andre tugged at the oversized army jacket and pulled it from his shoulders. “Is the heater on?”

  “We’re out of the mountains, Doc,” Davis stated as he rolled his window down. “The sun’s out and things are going to start warming up.”

  Carol gave him a soft smile and stretched her neck. “I’d rather be warm anyway.” She stifled a yawn and glanced to Lieutenant Davis. “I know we’re on the run, but is there any way we could maybe find a place to catch a few hours’ sleep?” She glanced to the rear of the truck and noted the other researchers rocking and swaying, most with their eyes closed as the truck trudged on.

  Davis chewed at his lower lip then glanced at his watch. “It would be a risk.” He shot a glance to Andre, who only stared back. “If I had my way, we’d drive straight through to Mexico.”

  “We’ll have to stop for fuel occasionally, yes?” Andre asked.

  Davis shrugged. “We have jerry cans of diesel, but…” He trailed off as his eyes scanned the surroundings. “I’m thinking maybe we hold on to those for emergencies. We can stop at the next small town we run into. Scrounge food, siphon fuel.” He glanced to Carol. “Maybe find a place to grab a few winks.”

  She rested her hand on his shoulder. “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Doc. We’re a long way from out of the woods.”

  Andre turned and tapped on the glass separating them from the researchers. He mimed eating, then pressed his hands together and laid his face on it, signaling sleep. He received a round of smiles and thumbs up. “They’re on board with the plan, Lieutenant. The respite will be much appreciated.”

  Davis sighed heavily and continued to check his mirrors, expecting at any moment to find a convoy of military vehicles bearing down on them. “We’ll need to keep it short and sweet. A few hours, maybe.”

  “Any little bit.”

  Veronica appeared between Herman and Hammer. “Why are we moving so damned slow?”

  Herman pointed out the windshield. “It’s like an obstacle course, Vee. Dead cars and pileups everywhere.”

  “The sun is already up.” She seemed even more nervous as she stared out of the dirt covered screen. “Time is not a luxury that we can afford, gentlemen.”

  Hammer turned slowly to her a
nd took her hand in his own. “Trust me, Doc. We’re navigating this mess as fast as we can.”

  She lowered her face and nodded slowly as she took deep, calming breaths. “Any word from Junkyard?”

  Hammer slowly shook his head. “Even the smaller clinics that he’s found have been ransacked or destroyed. It seems like if the place was tied to first responders in any way, it’s paid the ultimate price.”

  Veronica felt her chin quiver and she bit back a sardonic reply. “Of course they would be. First responders were the first to fall during the initial attacks.” She turned and walked back to Simon. “We just need one,” she muttered as she took his hand again. “Just one hospital or trauma center. Just one surgical suite to survive…”

  “He’s doing the best he can, Doc.” Hammer picked up the radio again and turned the volume up, praying that Junkyard’s voice would crackle across the speaker with good news at any moment.

  “Hey.” Herman’s hand swiped to the side trying to get Hammer’s attention. “Look.” He pointed to the west and a line of pickups and motorcycles coming towards them. “Tell me that’s a good sign.”

  Hammer growled low in his throat and grabbed the shotgun cradled between his legs. He racked a round into the chamber and laid the scattergun across his shoulder, his eyes taking in the sheer number of people closing the distance on them. “I wish I could.”

  “What is it?” Veronica asked as she reappeared between the two older men.

  “Riders,” Hammer stated flatly, his lip slowly curling.

  She perked up and leaned closer to the glass. “Maybe they know of a place.” She turned to Herman. “Can you get their attention?”

  Herman slowed the RV and gave her a tight lipped smile. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got their attention,” he swallowed hard and fought to keep his voice even, “they’ve changed directions.”

  Hammer lifted the radio to his face and keyed the mic. “Heads on a swivel, ladies. We’re about to have company.”

  Lana watched as the wagon train of RVs slowed, their tail lights flashing as the vehicles slowed and eventually stopped. She pulled the truck to the edge of the road and put it in park, her eyes searching for any sign of why they stopped.

  She tried not to let her imagination run rampant and was just about to ponder the possibility that Simon would need yet another concubine when she saw the first of the motorcycles approach the caravan.

  “Reinforcements for his army?” she asked herself. “Or another foe to vanquish before they can get his revenge?”

  She crossed her hands at the top of the steering wheel then leaned forward and planted her chin on top as the entire scene slowly unfolded ahead of her. She couldn’t see the side of the RV that was once hers, but she watched as the bikes rolled to a stop beside it and the riders exchange words with whomever was driving.

  She felt the familiar tingle of excitement course through her as she readied herself to watch a gunfight and was actually disappointed when the rider slipped from his iron horse and waved back at the others.

  She watched as men exited their vehicles and trotted toward the caravan of old bikers, older whores, and worthless cuckolds. She sighed and sat back in the seat before switching off the engine of the truck. “Best conserve as much gas as I can. This might take a while.”

  Willie saw the line of motorhomes approaching the interchange and slowed his bike. He waved to the nearest rider and pointed towards the rigs slowly making their way towards them.

  “Is that them?” the rider yelled.

  Willie shrugged animatedly. “Only one way to find out.” He leaned forward and twisted the throttle, pointing his bike in the same direction as the RVs. He accelerated toward the oncoming group and slowed as the RVs slowed and eventually stopped.

  He pulled alongside the lead vehicle’s driver side, tugged the bandana from his face, and nodded toward the driver, who was already rolling down his window. “You with Hatcher’s group?”

  The driver gave him a confused look. “Who?”

  Willie glanced at the rough looking passenger on the other side and could imagine the man holding a rifle on him, just out of sight. It was the posture. In all honesty, he couldn’t blame anybody for being cautious these days. He leaned closer to the window. “You rolling out of Rio Rancho?”

  The driver shook his head. “We were camped in the mountains outside Santa Fe.” He motioned toward the rear of the RV. “We got a wounded man and really need to find a surgical…something.”

  Willie raised a brow at him and switched off the engine of his bike. “You needing a doctor?”

  The driver nodded slightly then glanced in the rear view mirror. “Well…” he added slowly. “We really need a place to try to do a surgery.”

  Willie held a finger up then stepped off his bike. He pulled a radio from his vest and keyed it. “Get Doc up here. Now!”

  He stared down the line of trucks and motorcycles and heard the radio bark back. “Does he need his kit?”

  “That’s a big ten-four. Tell him to hustle.” Willie turned to the driver and held his hands up so the passenger could see that he was unarmed. “Doc’s on his way.”

  A woman appeared between the two haggard looking men. “Is he a surgeon?”

  Willie had to do a double take and slowly shook his head. “I have no idea what he trained in, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Pretty sure he was finishing up his clinicals or internship or some such. But he’s sharp. And he’s more than proved himself to us.”

  The man in the passenger seat leaned forward, raising his voice and giving Willie the stinkeye. “What are you boys doing out here?” He gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and Willie just caught the end of the barrel of a shotgun creeping into view.

  “We got people just north of Albuquerque that need help.” He turned and spit some of the road grit from his mouth then faced the passenger again. “They reported a group of infected folks, and they’re about certain that they’re about to attack.”

  “Where ya’ll from?” the driver asked.

  Willie shot him a grin. “Utah, actually.”

  The passenger’s face hardened. “And you just happened to know of folks in Albuquerque that need your help?”

  Willie inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “It’s a long story, friend. And not one I’m inclined to tell at the end of a shotgun.”

  Derek Doctorman jogged up to the RV, his black leather physician’s bag in his hand. “You needed me?”

  Willie turned back to the men in the RV and raised a brow. “What say you?” He nodded toward the shotgun then caught the passenger’s hard stare. “You ready to set that thing aside and let the doc here take a look at your friend?”

  The passenger measured the young doctor up then set the safety on the shotgun. “How about you tell us your story while your man takes a look?”

  Willie nodded. “Where’s your hurt man?”

  The driver hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “In the back with Vee. Come around to the side.” He stood from the driver’s seat and went to the side door while the pair walked around the RV.

  Willie grabbed Doc by the arm. “No sudden movements.” He glanced back at the man in the passenger seat then turned his back to him, lowering his voice. “They may need our help, but these boys are a bit jumpy.”

  Derek nodded to him. “Gotcha.”

  The door opened and the driver stuck his head out. “He’s back here.”

  9

  “All I know for sure is that they’re stopped just north of here and they’re trying to help some folks who’ve got a hurt man.” Rich sat down heavily and rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  “How bad?” Roger asked.

  Rich shook his head. “Apparently he got shanked and…” He looked up and shrugged. “They were trying to find a hospital or surgical center that still had equipment.”

  “Did they say where they were coming from?” Hatcher asked.

  “Santa Fe,” Rich replied.


  “How many in their group?” Hatcher handed him a cup of coffee as he took the seat across from him.

  “No idea. They just said a line of RVs.” Rich sipped the coffee than sighed again. “Derek is taking a look at their injured man.”

  Hatcher gave Roger a knowing look. “More survivors, man. And just up the highway from us.”

  Roger nodded, a slow smile forming. “I hate to say that it gives me hope for humanity, but...”

  Rich eyed the pair then interjected. “There may be more groups of survivors out there, but if time is really of the essence, we need to get my people here mui-fucking-pronto.”

  Roger stood, his eyes wide. “Is your doctor a surgeon?”

  Rich shook his head in confusion. “I…I’m pretty sure he was a third year medical student.”

  Roger gave Hatcher a knowing look. “Vic.”

  Hatcher’s face slowly registered his meaning. “She was a trauma nurse.” He came to his feet and pushed away from the table. “She’s assisted in more surgeries than I could shake a stick at.”

  “What do I do?” Rich asked.

  “Radio your people. Let them know that there’s an experienced trauma nurse here. I don’t know how far out they are, but I’d bet money Vic can help.”

  Rich lifted the radio to his mouth and began to relay the information. Hatcher nodded to Roger. “Run and find Vic. Tell her to prep her suite. We may have company shortly that can use her expertise.”

  “Find out how much time she has, and I’ll help her prep.” Roger disappeared through the garage door.

  Hatcher glanced at his watch then tried to imagine the highways north of their location. If Willie and his people were coming in on 550, and the other group was coming in from Santa Fe, they would have to be at the interchange by Bernalillo. He turned to Rich. “They should only be about twenty or thirty minutes from here. Maybe they should push on.”

  Rich relayed the message and waited for Larry to respond. His voice sounded excited as he came back over the radio. “If you got a trauma center there, then we’re headed your way. It sounds like this dude is in bad shape.”