Caldera Book 4: Countdown To Oblivion

by Stallcup, Heath

  “As promised, Mister Hatcher, as soon as we have a silver bullet, your people will be the first settlement we contact.”

  He turned and stared at Dr. LaRue, who seemed not to notice the daggers he shot at her with his eyes. He tried not to snarl as he spoke. “Just make sure you’ve fully vetted whatever treatment you come at us with.” He leaned closer to her and tried to punctuate the next line with his eyes. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”

  She shot him a smile that seemed inappropriate and totally out of place considering she had just been threatened. “Not to worry, Mister Hatcher. We don’t experiment on healthy subjects.”

  Healthy “subjects”? Hatcher opened his mouth to reply when the pilot walked over his communications. “We’re on approach. Air speed is below 20 knots if you want to open the door and let them see that it’s you.”

  Hatcher gave a thumbs up and stepped toward the side door as one of the soldiers pulled it open. Hatcher felt the wind burst into the cabin and he squinted in order to peer out across the approaching buildings. He felt the craft shift and begin a nearly sideways approach to the warehouse.

  The roof sentry was tracking them with the scope of his weapon and reached for his radio when he saw Hatcher in the open doorway of the chopper. His other arm shot straight up in a wave as the craft slowly slid across the sky and hovered just above the rooftop.

  Hatcher waited until the wheels settled and bounded from the craft. One of the soldiers tossed him his pack, then Hatcher reached up into the hatchway to grab Buck’s hand. He steadied the young man as he jumped from the craft, then they both turned and gave a wave to the pilots who expertly lifted up and away from the building.

  The sentries used their arms to cover their faces as dust, debris, and bits of sand shotgunned across the rooftop. Hatcher approached the closest sentry and reached for the man’s radio. As soon as the buffeting from the rotors had faded, he keyed the radio. “Candy, it’s Hatch. Grab Skeeter and meet me in the office. I’ve got a surprise for her.”

  Candy’s voice sounded tinny as it came across the handheld radio. “Roger that, Hatch. It’s damned good to have you home.”

  “You can say that again.” Hatcher handed the sentry back his radio and motioned for Buck to follow. “I think you’re going to like it here, kid.”

  Simon belched again as the busty woman whose name he couldn’t remember shoved another cup of coffee in front of him. “Drink it.”

  “Damn it, woman! I’m not a sponge.” He tried to push the cup away and she pushed it closer to his face.

  “You need to drink it and sober up. Your people need you.”

  He swallowed the bitter liquid and coughed when some went down the wrong pipe. “You’re choking me.” He coughed and spat, his hands swiping at her.

  “This is not the time to be staggering around drunk with your pecker hanging out for the world to see. Save that for when your lieutenants are with you.”

  “What difference does it make? They’ll do what I say whether I’m sober or not.”

  She stood and glared at him. “The difference is you’ll actually know what to tell them when you’re sober. You’ll be coherent and have the ability to actually think before you shoot your mouth off.” She stepped closer and tilted his head back. “Now drink!”

  Simon choked and spat as she poured the warm coffee into his mouth. If she hadn’t been one of his favorite whores, he would have beaten her down for such insolence. But as it was, she was making sense.

  Simon suddenly sat upright and pushed her away. “What the hell is that?”

  She looked at him as though he had been struck completely stupid. “What is what?”

  “Shut up, dammit!” He pushed past her and erupted from the flap of his tent. He walked in slow circles, his eyes fixed to the sky. “Where is that coming from?”

  “Where is what coming from?” she asked as she followed him with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “That sound!” He stopped and held his breath. No, he wasn’t imagining it. He could hear it for sure. He glanced around the camp and noticed one by one, people turning their heads and peering into the sky. “They hear it, too!”

  She stepped out past his dead campfire and strained to listen. She could just make out the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter on slow approach. “Yeah, I hear it, too.”

  “Where the hell is it?” Simon jogged to the pickup he had puked on and climbed onto the rear of the bed. He climbed the side of the bed and stood on the cab. He slowly spun circles, his ears trying to pinpoint the sounds of the rotors slicing through the air.

  “There it is!”

  Simon spun and saw where the young woman pointed and followed her arm. He could just make out the silhouette of the craft as it flew in from the north. He watched as it slowly lowered itself in the sky and he felt a smile creep across his face.

  “Son of a bitch, WE GOT HIM!” He jumped down from the cab of the truck and nearly fell when the suspension bounced. “You and you…,” he pointed to the two closest men, “get your asses moving and find out where the hell that chopper lands!”

  He hopped from the back of the bed and marched to his tent. He paused at the entrance, then turned and raised his voice for all to hear. “Gear up and load up. We’re hunting the asshole that got away. And we’re gonna take what’s ours.” His face was nearly feral as he shot into the tent and was even more frightening when he reemerged, pulling his leather jacket on over the dual pistols strapped to his hips.

  Simon stopped and grabbed the woman that insisted he sober up. He pulled her close and rewarded her with a wet, sloppy, coffee-flavored kiss. “You did good.” He swatted her rump as he marched past her and mounted his Harley. “You’ll get the rest of your reward when I get back.” He shot her a knowing smile, then hit the starter button on his iron horse.

  She gave him a curt smile and a nod as he pulled away to where the others were staging. “Gee, I can hardly wait.” She dumped the coffee and tossed the cup toward his tent. “I wonder if he’d believe I had to wash my hair tonight?”

  “How are the headaches?” Carol charted Dr. Carpenter’s vitals and noted they had almost approached normal.

  He nodded weakly. “Much better, thanks.” He tried to sit up and was reminded he was still strapped down. “Are these really still necessary?”

  She stopped writing and looked at him knowingly. “I’m sure you realize that they are.”

  He sighed heavily. And slumped as much as he could while still being bound. “You have no idea how horrible it is to have an itch and not be able to scratch it.”

  She suddenly perked. “I’d be happy to assist if you really—”

  “I will not allow you to scratch my…private parts, thank you.” He could feel his cheeks flush and noted that Carol’s cheeks flushed as well.

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I could send in an orderly?”

  He shot her a look that indicated clearly that her suggestion was not appreciated. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”

  “Of course.” She clicked her pen and crossed her arms. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Dr. LaRue is on her way back. Word has it that she was successful in retrieving an original sample.”

  Charles sighed and slumped even farther into the mattress, if that was possible. “She was impossible to live with before. There’s no way that—”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” He turned and gave her a solemn look. “I’m assuming that the regimens you began haven’t been successful.”

  She tried to bluff. “Why would you suggest that?”

  “Because instead of improving, my condition worsened.” He nodded to the IV in his arm. “Hence the migraine cocktail you administered.”

  She sighed and nodded. “You assume correctly.”

  “Is it an issue with the reagent factors or—”

  “I have no idea.” She cut him off before he could list the possible failings. “However, I’m cer
tain that once Dr. LaRue is back she can look over my notes and find where I went wrong. I have no doubts that she’ll be able to undo whatever it is that I’ve done wrong.”

  Charles rolled his eyes and turned away. “One more feather in her cap.”

  “I’m sorry?” Carol didn’t seem to understand his misgivings.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Charles was dismissive as he tried to ignore her presence. “If it’s all the same, I’d just as soon rest some more. I’m still exhausted from the headaches.”

  “Yes, of course.” Carol switched off the light and slipped out of the isolation room. She watched him for a moment and didn’t hear the CDO approach from behind.

  “He’s improving?”

  She startled slightly and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Actually, no. But his headaches have been relieved by the cocktail I gave him. Hopefully when Dr. LaRue returns, she can straighten out where I obviously went wrong.”

  The CDO nodded then pulled her aside. “What if you didn’t do anything wrong?”

  She gave him a concerned look. “How do you mean?”

  “What if her treatment simply doesn’t work?”

  Carol snorted. “Of course it works. Just look at the subjects we originally tested it on.”

  He nodded slightly then pointed to Dr. Carpenter. “Then why is he getting worse?”

  “Like I said, I must have done something wrong.”

  “Or you didn’t do anything wrong and her treatment is a bust.”

  Carol shook her head nervously. “No. That can’t be the case. The subjects..—”

  “May have had a different strain. You did say that the virus has mutated, yes?”

  “Well, yes, but…Dr. Carpenter was infected by one of the subjects. That would mean they would share the same virus. The same treatments should work.”

  “Except they didn’t. Which can only mean that the virus mutated between the test subject’s initial treatment and his infecting Dr. Carpenter.”

  Carol opened her mouth to reply but had no retort. She glanced back into the isolation room, then across the lab at the test subjects in their own isolation ward. She turned to the CDO. “We’d better hope that isn’t the case.”

  He gave her a confused look. “Why’s that?”

  “Because if it can mutate that quickly? We can’t possibly come up with a cure.”

  Roger straddled his bike and reached for the starter once more. “Just go and talk to Candy. She knows about you.”

  “You really think she’ll listen to me without you there with me?” He shook his head. “I think you suffered brain damage when they shaved your face, man.”

  Roger sighed and clenched his jaw. “Look, man. I can’t go back. She doesn’t want me there and besides, I’ve been tempted with this whole cut-and-run idea since this whole thing began.”

  “You think you’re the only one that wants out from under Simon’s thumb?” Mike snorted. “Every swinging dick in that camp would bail if they thought they could get away.”

  “All the more reason for you to…” Roger trailed off, his head slowly turning and scanning the sky.

  “What’s wrong? Ragers?” Mike suddenly went on the defensive.

  “Shh!” Roger held a hand up to silence him.

  “What is it?” Mike whispered.

  “Do you hear that?” Roger stepped off his motorcycle and spun a slow circle. “It’s sounds like it’s coming from the north.”

  “What the hell are you…” Mike trailed off, his ears finally picking up on what Roger was excited about. “Is that a helicopter?”

  “It sure sounds like it.” Roger stepped away from his motorcycle and stared toward the sound. “Oh, no…no, no, no—”

  “What man? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s him!” Roger jumped back on his bike and turned the ignition on. “Look, man, you gotta intercept the gang. Steer them away from this place until we can take out Simon!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s him!”

  “Him, who?” Mike reached out and grabbed the handlebars of Roger’s bike. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

  “The dude that gave Simon the slip out on the highway? The one that the chopper saved? HIM!”

  “That Danny guy?”

  “Yes! Now go!” Roger pushed at the larger man. “If we heard that damned chopper, then you know Simon did, too. He’s gonna come after this guy, because that’s what he does. He can’t just let it go.”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?” Mike asked as he straddled his own bike.

  “Get between the camp and the warehouse. When they come looking for the chopper, redirect them, send them on a wild goose chase, something…ANYTHING!” Roger hit the starter and revved the engine. “I’m going back to the warehouse and hopefully I can convince them to either leave or hide the chopper.”

  Mike groaned and started his own bike. “I can’t promise anything.”

  “Do your best, man. That’s all I can ask.” Roger kicked the Harley into gear and spun it around to face the opposite direction. He revved the engine and shot back toward the way he had come.

  Mike watched him leave, then pulled out and pointed his bike in the opposite direction. “Just stop them, he says. Like those sons of bitches will listen to me.”

  Chapter 19

  Skeeter slid to a stop at Hatcher’s office and threw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed tightly.

  “Woah, easy there.” Hatcher pried her arms loose and bent low to look her in the eye. “I brought you something.”

  He stepped aside and watched as Skeeter’s eyes slowly grew wide.

  “More like, he brought you someone.” Buck stepped from the corner of the office and held his arms out. “I missed you, Skeet.”

  She practically launched herself at him and the pair almost fell to the floor from her tackle. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”

  “Me neither, sometimes.” He pulled her tighter and lifted her from the ground. “I think you’ve grown.”

  She landed on her feet and eyed him playfully. “Nope, you shrunk some!” She poked at his sides and he jumped. “But I’m really glad to see you.” She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Sorry, I didn’t have time to clean up first. We were pretty much on the run the entire time.”

  She shot him a wide smile and tugged at his arm. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can clean up.” The pair slipped out of Hatcher’s office and he practically fell into his chair. He had just reached for the bottle of hooch he kept hidden in the bottom drawer when Skeeter slid back into his office.

  “Did you forget something?”

  She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for saving him.”

  Hatcher chuckled as he patted her back. “He did all the hard work.” He leaned back and eyed her. “He stayed alive this whole time on his own. I just got him a ride here.”

  “Still…” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I owe you.” A quick wink and she disappeared into the hallway again.

  Hatcher smiled to himself, then reached for the drawer. After losing Captain Hollis and discovering that Bren didn’t survive her encounter with the CDC labs, he needed a stiff drink.

  “Well, ain’t that a fine kick in the ass.”

  He turned to see Candy and Vicky Sue standing in the doorway.

  “You aren’t back five minutes and you’re already hitting the bar. You could at least say hello.”

  Hatcher lifted the bottle and was about to ask them both to join him when he realized that the bottle was nearly empty. “I could have sworn there was a lot more in here when I left.”

  “It probably evaporated.” Vicky suggested as she pushed her way through the door. She wrapped her arms around her brother and squeezed. “It’s good to have you home again.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” He emptied the bottle into his coffee cup
and took a long pull. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

  Candy plopped into the chair opposite his desk. “So, tell us all about it. I’m assuming you had fun, since you didn’t even bother to send a postcard.” She shot him a sly grin.

  Hatcher stared at the cup in his hands and shook his head slowly. “It was a lot worse than I feared.” He tilted the cup and emptied it. He continued to hold the cup and stare into the empty depths. “We lost a good man on the mission.”

  “Just one?” Candy didn’t seem phased.

  Hatcher nodded. “The leader of the soldiers. He was a captain.” He leaned back in his chair and when Candy saw his eyes, she sobered. “We got sent to Fort Collins to collect some kind of research that the military was doing before the world went to Hell.” He swallowed hard and turned his gaze to the floor. “He sacrificed himself so that the rest of us could get away.”

  “Oh, Danny…I’m so sorry.” Vicky reached out and took his hand.

  “You’d think it wouldn’t be that big a deal. I barely knew the guy.” Hatcher set his coffee cup down and really wished he had another bottle to open. “It’s not like we haven’t all lost people, right? But then on the way back here I find out that Bren didn’t survive some kind of infection.”

  He heard the two women gasp. “But she seemed so healthy.” Vicky said.

  “What kind of infection takes down someone who’s immune to the virus?” Candy asked.

  Hatcher could only shake his head. “If I’d known how cold-blooded the CDC people were, I’d have never suggested taking them there.” He glanced up and Candy knew what he was about to say. “She’s dead because I insisted they go.”

  “No!” Candy slammed her hand on the desk top. “You are not going to blame yourself for this. Both of them would have been Zulu snacks if we hadn’t helped them.”

  Hatcher nodded. “But we did and they both survived us.” He stared at her and his eyes were resolute. “Until I forced them to go to the CDC.”

  Vicky stood and shook her finger at him. “This isn’t on you, Danny.”