Suddenly, she sat up and spun around, her eyes taking in the large, empty structure. “I guess I’ll just have to make myself to home.”
She came to her feet and tried the door, not surprised to find it unlocked, and slipped into the darkness. The first thing that hit her was an unpleasant smell. Not the stench of rotting flesh, though, more like the sulfurous stink of guano.
She tugged the curtains open and allowed the small amount of moonlight and the glow from the other houses to illuminate the interior. She stepped back and saw the largest pile of…bird shit?
She spun a slow circle. The black and white droppings were everywhere. It clung to the furniture, the pictures on the wall, the sides of a huge, nearly empty aquarium, and crusted heavily along the sides of a large, black, metal birdcage.
“Who the fuck keeps chickens inside a house?” She muttered as she tried to step past the dried and crumbling piles. “I literally picked out an indoor out house.”
She spotted the stairs and maneuvered through the living room. Being careful not to touch the railing, she went upstairs, the dried droppings crunching under her boots. When she reached the landing, she noted that the bedroom doors were all shut, and that there was less shit scattered on the second floor.
She tested each door, finding abandoned bedrooms, until she found the master. She closed the door behind her and collapsed on the bed, happy to find a soft spot NOT covered in chicken poop.
She pulled the pillow closer and sighed, “Now what?” She rolled over and peered through the second floor window. “I’m in the lion’s den now. If I don’t die from some stupid bird shit virus…what should I do next?”
Jedidiah stood atop the hill and shook his head. “No. No…this can’t be.” He stared as dozens of vehicles crisscrossed the city, all making their way toward the stronghold of the unbelievers. “This can’t be right.”
He swallowed hard and stared up into the ever darkening sky. “Lord, why?”
He felt his legs go weak and he hunkered low, clutching his hat in his hands. “I don’t understand, Lord. They were supposed to be the last. All that remained. There weren’t supposed to be any more…”
A brilliant light flashed before his eyes and Jedidiah knew it was the angel again. In his moment of weakness, he feared that he and his army weren’t enough to do the Lord’s will, and that the angel was sent to punish him for his lack of faith.
“Arise,” the voice boomed in his head with such a strength that Jedidiah was unsure that he could actually respond.
He sucked in the cool night air and forced himself to push his body to an upright position. “I-I’m sorry. It was only a moment of weakness—”
“Enough!” The voice reverberated in his skull and Jedidiah squeezed his eyes shut, praying that the brilliance of the angel wouldn’t sear his eyes from their sockets.
He bowed his head and felt his hands shake in the presence of the angel. “I’m sorry I allowed my faith to falter.”
“The unclean are being brought together.” The voice had softened, no longer threatening to rupture his eardrums. “They are no match for your army.”
“Yes, Lord.” Jedidiah’s voice cracked, “Thank you for bringing them together.” He risked raising his face and felt the heat from the light scald his skin. “In your infinite wisdom, you have brought all of the unclean to one place for us. We thank you, oh Lord.”
“Your army will sweep over them like the locusts of the field. Once they are done, your reward will follow.”
“Y-yes, Lord.” Jedidiah fell to his knees and bowed his head to the ground. “Thank you, Lord.”
He felt the presence of the angel of the Lord dissipate before he opened his eyes again. He glanced around and felt his chest tighten as he tried to suck in the ionized air. He fell back onto his butt and his entire body shook with tremors as he glanced about, ensuring that he was alone once again.
It took him far too long to recover from the incident, but once Jedidiah had gathered his strength, he placed his flat brimmed hat atop his head once more and smoothed the lapels of his coat. He stood tall, but still on shaky legs, made his way down the hillside and pointed himself toward the movie theater once more.
He tried to push the sheer number of vehicles he had seen from his mind as he made his way through town and forced himself to have faith. This wasn’t his army…it was HIS army.
“Yes, yes. Romans Chapter 8, Verse 31.” He squared his shoulders and peered to the sky. “What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?”
11
“Jeezus, Hatcher.” Willie cradled the tumbler with both hands, his eyes locked on the ice cubes floating in the drink. “I really thought Rich was blowing smoke up our asses, but you guys…” he trailed off as words escaped him.
“I can’t take the credit. I have good people who are a lot smarter than me working really hard to make this happen.”
Willie smiled again as he took a long pull from the cup. “I’d forgotten how much better something can taste when it’s cold.”
“Or hot.” Hatcher held up his coffee cup. “But I guess you can brew hot coffee over a fire.”
“It’s not the same as pushing a button.” Willie rattled the cup then fished an ice cube out to chew on. “I used to love eating ice. Drove my missus nuts.”
Hatcher stood and opened the freezer. He pulled out the ice bucket and set it on the table beside the barrel chested man. “Knock yourself out, neighbor.”
Willie looked up at him and realization struck. “How far out are the infected?”
Hatcher shrugged. “No idea. We spotted them on the road and…” He sighed while running a hand through his hair. “I swear, it looked like the leader of the band was trying to send us a message. He kept screaming at us and shaking this old phone book like it meant something.”
Willie chomped on another piece of ice and watched as Hatcher struggled with the words. “You think he was trying to warn you?”
“I don’t know if it was a warning or—”
“Hatcher,” Roger called, his voice solemn, “we need to have a word.”
Hatcher glanced at Willie before coming up from his chair. “Stay put. Have as much as you like.” He turned for the door to the garage then paused. “There’s cold beer in the fridge, help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Willie scooped up the ice bucket and put it back in the freezer while Hatcher slipped out through the garage entrance.
“What’s up?”
Roger hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Okay, so I talked with some of the guys in the RVs. They’re all appreciative for the hookup, but they aren’t sure if they want to commit to helping in the coming fight without talking to their ‘leader’ first.”
Hatcher nodded. “Okay…” He eyed Roger cautiously. “And?”
“And it’s their leader that Vic is trying to save.”
“Ahh.” Hatcher nodded. He rubbed his hand across the whiskers on his chin and stared into the darkness of the night. “I can see where that might be problematic.”
Roger gave him a knowing glance. “You ain’t heard the worst of it yet.”
Hatcher’s brows rose. “Hit me.”
“So the old biker-looking dudes that drove him here said that their leader’s name is…” he paused, unsure if he really wanted to repeat the name. “Simon.”
Hatcher’s face blanched and he stared open-mouthed. “Come again?”
Roger nodded. “My reaction, precisely.”
“Tell me it’s not the same asshole.”
“That’s just it.” Roger’s face twisted. “I asked what his last name was and the two old guys looked at me like I was retarded. They didn’t know. One of the guys said he told them it was ‘Garfunkel’ but…”
“Right.” Hatcher sighed and leaned against the work bench. “So how do we figure this out? I mean, Simon isn’t exactly the most common name in the world, but it’s not so unique that nobody else could have it either.”<
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Roger nodded. “So I went by Vic’s and sort of forced my way in. I just wanted to look this guy in the face.”
“And? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“And…I couldn’t tell. If it’s him, he’s shaved his beard and cut his hair and…” Roger shrugged. “They had some kind of tube taped to his face and the lady doc that came with them was dripping some kind of liquid onto a sponge and holding it over his mouth and nose so I couldn’t really see.”
“Son of a…” Hatcher squeezed his eyes shut and stared across the street. “Tell me my sister isn’t over there right now trying to save that bastard.”
Roger groaned. “The worst part? Stella was one of the first to donate blood for this surgery.”
“I need to talk to the guys that brought him in.”
“And find out what? They don’t know if it’s the same guy either, and in any case, they’re with him.”
Hatcher paused and stared at him. “How so?”
“They don’t know where he came from; they just know that he showed up and pulled their fat from the fire. More than once.” He inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “They said that some guys that had been with them for a long time realized they were doing all the work and decided that the others needed to pay.” He gave Hatcher a knowing look. “They tried to rape one of the women in the camp, and this Simon of theirs stepped in and stopped them. Ended up having to kill them to get the point across.”
Hatcher listened to the story and slowly shook his head. “The killing part I can see as the Simon we know. I just don’t see him stopping them from…” He turned slowly to Roger. “Unless he wanted the woman for himself.”
Roger shook his head. “They said he showed up with this skinny crazy lady with a shaved head then dumped her and hooked up with their doctor.”
“Wait.” He held a hand up and looked towards the gate. “Is Buck on watch?”
Roger gave him a confused look. “Buck? No, he’s assisting Vic and the other doctors. Why?”
Hatcher gave him a slight grin. “Buck saw the woman that Simon was with before they knocked him out and split in the sports car. If it’s the same woman that their people describe, then we’ll know where Simon ran off to.”
Roger nodded as he backed slowly from the garage. “I’ll find him. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
“You know it.”
Hatcher watched him disappear into the darkness then turned his attention to the lights on at his sister’s house. If the two Simons were the same person…
“I may have listened to part of that,” Willie said softly from the doorway. “Sounds like there’s a problem brewing.”
Hatcher shrugged. “Possibly.” He turned back to Willie and put on a façade. “But if it is a problem, we’ll have caught it before it could do much harm. Anyway, we’ll know soon enough.”
Davis pushed Molly, the deuce and a half, as hard as he dared. He’d stopped in a small town to top off her tanks when his radio chirped to life again. He cursed under his breath as he reached for the handheld, entered the encryption key, and waited.
“Roadrunner, this is Sparrow, copy?”
Davis keyed the radio. “Go ahead, Sparrow. Read you five by five.”
“Go underground, Roadrunner. Quickly. They’ve dispatched three more eyes in the sky and they’re looking for Molly particularly. They’re searching the four points of the compass, working grid patterns. Copy?”
Davis cursed again then keyed the radio. “Copy, Sparrow. We’ll ditch Molly and will acquire different transpo. Over.” He pulled the siphon hose from the saddle tank and threw it aside.
“Gotta run, Roadrunner. Be safe. Sparrow out.”
Davis heard the radio squelch and knew that his men had risked more than he could ask for to relay the information. He tucked the radio into his thigh pocket and climbed aboard the truck again. “Change of plans, folks. Looks like we have to ditch old Molly.”
“I heard the radio but couldn’t make out what was being said. I guess something changed?” Carol was almost afraid of his answer.
Davis nodded and fired up the big diesel engine. “We’re being hunted; we’ll need something less visible.” He glanced to the rear and shook his head. “Maybe a van?”
“We’ll need to conceal the truck, won’t we?” Andre asked.
Davis nodded as he put the truck into gear and pulled away. “They’re sending drones out looking for us.”
Andre tapped at his chin then slowly smiled. “They’ll be looking downward.” He chuckled to himself. “Find a carwash.”
Davis glanced at him, confusion on his face until her realized what he had in mind. “We can park her inside and under the cover and…”
“And they’ll never see la Molly,” Andre sighed. “That takes care of one part of the problem.”
“We don’t want a van,” Carol added.
“Why not?” Davis asked.
“Too obvious.” She stared at the abandoned cars in driveways and along the sides of the road. “We want something like a Tahoe or Suburban. Something that is rugged, can hold a lot of people, but isn’t necessarily just a people hauler.”
“Why not take two cars?” Andre asked.
“Twice the risk of breakdown,” Carol answered distractedly. “And it would attract their attention.”
Davis snorted. “It’s not like any car wouldn’t attract attention these days. Especially if it’s running.”
“There are more survivors out there,” Carol replied, her attention still on the other vehicles. “I can feel it. And I’ve seen it.”
“Still, I don’t see where having two vehicles would—”
“Stop!” Carol shouted as she slapped at the dash. “I found it.”
Davis stopped the truck and Carol was out the door before the truck stopped rolling. She darted across the sidewalk and slowed in front of a Ford Excursion. “Please be four wheel drive.” She dropped to one knee and glanced under the front of the truck. “Yes!”
She spun and gave the men a wicked smile. “Twelve passenger and still has room to haul our stuff.” She leaned on the front and patted the hood. “You just got to get her to start.”
Davis groaned and looked to Andre. “Tell me you know how to hotwire something like that?”
Andre chuckled. “Absolutely not.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He glanced to the rear of the truck then nodded toward the other scientists. “Let’s hope somebody in that group had a troubled childhood.”
Lana tossed and turned, her nerves preventing her from getting any rest. She sat up and threw the covers from her frame. Spinning on the mattress she hung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the window. The night sky was lit with a million billion stars and only the soft glows from a scattering of houses took away from the natural light show.
She came to her feet and crossed the short distance to the window then pulled the curtains back. She stood nude in the window and stared across the expanse of grounds that made up the complex of would-be homes.
Part of her really wanted to hate the people who had stolen their idea and created something more akin to permanence. Another part of her simply wanted to burn it all down and watch them tear at each other’s throats.
She remembered Tony and how sweet his flesh tasted. The memory triggered a rumbling in her guts and she wanted more. More of the fresh, bloody meat. She wanted to feel the heat radiate to her face as she sunk her teeth into each tender morsel.
She touched herself as she imagined the rich, coppery taste of fresh blood sliding down her throat and she closed her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window and groaned.
“I need a snack.”
She spun and sashayed across the bedroom, throwing open the closet. It only took her eyes a moment to adjust to the inky blackness and she began ripping clothes from their hangers and throwing them over her shoulder.
“Crap. Crap. Crap.” She paused and held up a slinky black dress. “Formal crap.” She stepped back and stared at the offerings. “Why couldn’t these people have been into S&M?”
She sighed heavily then glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe they had a teenage daughter.” She threw open the bedroom door and ignored the waft of stale bird shit as she marched across the landing and pushed open the next door. “Please tell me there’s at least one goth bitch in this house.”
She pushed the closet door fully open and stared at a rainbow of colors that made her want to puke. “Next.”
The next bedroom was different. She couldn’t tell by the bland decoration who it might have belonged to, but she sifted through the closet and came up wanting again.
She sat down heavily on the bed and sighed. “I suppose I could hunt au natural.” She chuckled at the idea of trying to hide her pasty white skin in the darkness with this much moonlight available.
She came to her feet again and rifled through the boxes at the top of the closet then searched under the bed. “Nobody in this family has a twisted side?” She flipped the mattress in frustration and growled deep in her throat. “All I want is a nice black leather…” She paused and cocked her head to the side.
She turned and practically skipped back to the master bedroom. She went to the opposite side of the closet and rifled through the husband’s clothing, pulling a pair of black Levi’s out and held them up, straining to read the faded size label. “Close enough.” She tossed them to the bed then began pulling dresser drawers out, throwing the contents behind her. “Come on black. Come on black…” She paused and held up a pocket t-shirt. It was far too large, but she had an idea.
Sliding the pants on easily, she used a leather belt to cinch them up over her hips. She rolled the cuffs then slipped her boots back on. The t-shirt hung like a dress over her, but she quickly tugged the ends together and tied them across her midsection.
Caldera | Book 12 | Kingdom Come Page 8