Caldera

by Heath Stallcup

  Hatcher gave her a disbelieving look. “You didn’t try to help anybody?”

  She turned to him again and gave him a hateful glare. “You weren’t here,” she spat. “You didn’t see it. There was no way TO help these people. It was a madhouse.”

  Hatcher put a hand on her shoulder in attempt to calm her. She shoved him and backed away. “No! Don’t touch me!” she shouted. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

  “Okay, alright.” Hatcher raised his hands and backed away from her. “I surrender. You’re right, I wasn’t here. I should have been, but I wasn’t.”

  She stomped away from him and kicked at a dark green jacket on the ground. “See that? It belonged to one of our deputies. One of ours. Sent out here to help you.” She bent to pick it up and read the name off the tag. “Billings.” She tossed the jacket toward Hatcher. “He had a wife and a daughter.” The deputy looked at her hand, red with blood, then lifted it for Hatcher to see. “I don’t think he’ll be coming home at the end of this shift.”

  Hatcher hung his head and exhaled hard. “What do you want from me? I’ve lost people, too,” he said quietly. “You think you and yours were the only ones to suffer a loss here tonight?”

  He felt his guilt suddenly turn to anger as he pushed up and away from the side of the mobile unit. He slowly approached her as his anger built.

  “You think you’re the only one entitled to feel pissed because something happened that was beyond your control? Some of us were out there trying to figure out what was going on before we even knew the depth of the problem. Some of us were out there losing people before the threat even made itself known.” He was practically yelling now, and the deputy was slowly backing away from him. “Some of us were losing people closer to us than our own damned families while you were hiding in the back seat of a fucking car! “He was now standing directly in front of her, his finger in her face. Hatcher had to bite his tongue to tell her how he really felt before he ended up knocking her on her ass. Instead, he simply shook his head and turned around.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’m going to try to find my people. If there are any of them still standing,” he said over his shoulder.

  The deputy glanced to either side and suddenly felt very alone and out in the open. “Well, if it’s all the same, maybe I should tag along with you then. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  Hatcher stopped midstride and had to seriously bite back a scathing retort. In the half-moment he stood there, he considered her offer. Two sets of eyes were better than one. However, something told him that, more than likely, he’d end up having to pull her ass out of the fire if he allowed her to tag along. Somehow, he felt that if he left her behind, she’d be dead before he was out of earshot and he didn’t think his conscience would allow that. He exhaled hard and tilted his head up to stare at the sky. He turned back to stare at her.

  “Are you armed?”

  She patted her holster and nodded. “Spare mags, too.”

  He hooked his chin in the direction he was going. “Then you better keep up.”

  She trotted to his side as his long legs took off again. “Where are we going?”

  “Fresh rides.”

  “Horses?”

  He barely turned his head as he shot her a questioning look. “ATV’s. Hope you know how to handle one,” he replied.

  “I’ve been known to ride from time to time.”

  “Good. ’Cuz I don’t have time to break it down for you.” He pulled his keys and unlocked the gate. Pulling it open wide, he strode in and went to the maintenance building. He slid open the double door and grabbed a couple of full gas cans and mounted them to the back of the closest ATV. “Make sure you grab one that will seat two just in case we run across somebody.”

  She nodded and jumped on the twin to his. Turning the key and hitting the start button, the big V-twin purred to life and Hatcher pulled it out of the building. He didn’t have to turn and look to know she was right behind him. Her headlight put him in shadow against the far wall as she pulled in behind him and then alongside.

  “Where to first?” she asked as Hatcher pulled up to the fuel tank.

  “First we top off the tanks. Then we follow the known trails.” He unscrewed the cap and began filling the ATV.

  “But there’s like dozens of trails, isn’t there?”

  Hatcher nodded as he considered her obvious question. “We’ll take the easier ones first,” he replied as he pumped the gas. “And we can cover a lot more ground than they can with these.”

  “Okay, but how far out do we go before we—”

  Hatcher quickly lost patience with her and interrupted her, “Look…I don’t even know your name.”

  She stared at him open-mouthed. “Sorry. Candice Olson. They call my Candy, but not because I’m sweet.”

  “That I can believe,” he muttered. “Look, Candy, I can read trails, I can read tracks, and I know what kind of tread design my people’s boots leave behind.” He put the cap back on his tank and went to her ATV and began unscrewing the gas cap.

  She glanced away and nodded. “What about my people?”

  Hatcher began filling the tank and never made eye contact. “I’m not looking for your people,” he stated coldly. “If we run into some and they’re not crazy, we’ll help them out. Give ’em a ride back to a cruiser or something, but my people are my main goal.” He finally raised his eyes to meet hers and she was almost startled at how hard they were. “Are you still in?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

  “Good.” He pulled the filler out and hung it back on the tank. He shut off the gravity feed and handed her the cap. “Make sure it’s tight.” Hatcher went back to his ATV and checked the rear trunk storage. Standard fare: first aid kit, flashlight, spare batteries, maps. He dug around a bit more and found some twine, a short piece of rope. Most of it was junk that one ranger or another had tossed in because they had no other place to put it.

  Hatcher checked his magazines and pulled his radio. “Switch to channel three,” he said as he placed it back in its holster.

  Candy pulled hers and switched the radio. She keyed the mic and stated, “Radio check.”

  Hatcher nodded and mounted his ATV. “We’re good to go.” He stared out the open gate a moment, then turned to Candy. “You’re sure that everyone bitten or scratched turned into one of those red-eyed crazy bastards?”

  She met his stare and nodded. “Every one of them that I saw.”

  Hatcher sighed and nodded. “Fine. Any that we meet that has any chance of getting close enough to infect either of us, we don’t hesitate. We put them down.” He started his ATV and stared off into the darkness. “For good.”

  Candy nodded grimly as Hatcher revved his engine and pulled out of the gate.

  Mitch’s legs were burning as he crested the last hill. His adrenaline rush had long since burned off and he could taste the tinny aftertaste in his mouth. His mouth was so dry he honestly thought he could suck moisture from a cotton ball. He gave careful consideration to the risk of licking the sweat from his arm, but there was so much blood splattered across him that he quickly discounted the idea. He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing this craziness to spread, but he was pretty sure it had to be from a bite since all the crazies he had encountered so far had some kind of bite or bloody marks on them.

  As he clawed his way to the top of the steep hill, he looked down and heaved a sigh of relief. At the top of the next hill was the outdoor amphitheater. He could see the lights flickering from the stage. He leaned against a tree and sucked in the cool night air.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” he muttered.

  He reached for his radio and found the holster empty. Groaning to himself, he pushed away from the tree and wondered just where he might have dropped it.

  Stealing a glance behind him to ensure he still wasn’t being followed, Mitch took off once more. He had to warn the other law enforcement up there
about the crazy people with the red eyes. He nearly lost his footing as he trotted down the steep hill and fell face first into the creek at the bottom of the steep ravine. He stuck his face into the water and sucked deeply, swallowing the water in huge gulps. He knew not to drink too quickly, but he was so dehydrated from running and fighting that his body fought his brain.

  His body won.

  Mitch rolled in the water, soaking his uniform and chilling his body. He knew this also was a mistake, but it felt so good. He felt a shudder run through him as his stomach tried to lurch on him, but he fought it. He rolled back to his knees and faced the current. He opened his mouth and let the water flow into it, swallowing much slower than he had before.

  The water was so cold and sweet, he honestly thought he could stay there until morning. He had just about drunk his fill when he heard a splash behind him. He turned slowly to find a figure standing in the water about fifteen feet away. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he recognized the tilt of the head as the figure assessed him. He reached under the water and pulled his pistol from its holster. Raising it from the surface of the water, he slowly stood. “Go ahead. Make a move, and I’ll ventilate between your ears.”

  The figure tilted its head back and screamed. That was all the verification Mitch needed. He squeezed the trigger and watched the figure fall back into the water, floating away just as quickly as it appeared. Mitch stood the rest of the way up just as another scream echoed throughout the woods in answer.

  “Fuck,” he muttered as he scrambled up the bank of the creek and toward the amphitheater.

  The water he’d gulped was starting to weigh him down and make his stomach sour. He knew there was a reason not to gulp water when you’re dehydrated. He could feel himself slowing as he neared the top of the hill, but the lights pulled him like a moth to a flame.

  He dug deep into his reserve energy and pushed himself to crest the hill. Mitch’s legs felt like rubber as he staggered toward the rear of the stage area, his wet uniform beginning to chafe. The music was definitely over, and the people were gone. He pushed past the cabling and the electrical cords and staggered out beside the stage, expecting to find at least the cleanup crews or roadies or someone out there. He didn’t expect to find what he did.

  He stood leaning against a large stack of speakers and stared at the trash-strewn area. He could see clothes and trash and…blood? Mitch pushed himself forward with a grunt and drag-walked to a dark spot. Bending down, he ran his finger through the nearly black area and pulled back blood. He rubbed it between his fingers and was shocked at the amounts. “What the hell happened here?”

  The sounds of engines coming to life nearby jerked his head up. Mitch jumped and practically sprinted through the spectator area to where he had spent the majority of the evening watching people. He followed the sounds and saw two ATVs pull out from the pens. He yelled out, but couldn’t be heard over their accelerating engines. He scanned the area for other people, but none could be seen. He looked toward the ranger station to see if there might be a light on and saw another ATV parked right in front of the station. Mitch ran as hard as he could for the ATV and jumped onto it. He started the engine and spun gravel as he did his best to follow the dust trail from the two ATVs that had just left.

  Mitch felt his arms burning as he fought the ATV and pushed the accelerator to its limits. Although he had no idea who might be on the two runaway units, he knew that they couldn’t be any of the crazies. They couldn’t communicate other than to scream or grunt, and although they seemed to be faster than greased shit through a goose, and agile as a cat, they didn’t seem very coordinated. He doubted seriously that whatever the hell was wrong with them, they probably couldn’t operate a four-wheeler.

  As he pushed the unit to its limits, he saw the tail lights of the two ATVs crest the hill in front of him. He pushed the button on the handlebars to sound the horn, but the two ATVs didn’t slow down. They were either too far away or couldn’t hear over the sound of their own engines. Muttering a curse under his breath, he gunned the accelerator once more and did his best to control the ATV as it shot up the hill.

  Mitch gripped the handle bars as the front tires caught air at the top of the hill and the ATV went airborne. Not realizing where he was while he climbed the hill, he missed the sharp curve at the top and shot over the roadway and into the scrub along the side of the road, bouncing and ricocheting between the larger trees that lined the edge of the roadway. As the four-wheeler came to a sudden stop, Mitch found himself draped over the front end of the ATV, his head dangling in front of the headlight.

  He rolled off the ATV and fell to the ground beside the four-wheeler, his hand automatically going to his ribs where they had impacted the handlebars. “Son of a…” he moaned as he rolled to the other side and tried to get his knees under him. He sat up on his knees and let his hands fall to the ground beside him as his head rolled back. “How’d I not die?” he groaned. He sucked in a large, painful breath over his bruised ribs and reached his hand up to the handlebars to pull himself up.

  Mitch tried to assess the damage to the ATV in the dark when the area slowly grew lighter. He glanced around and then finally heard the low thrum of the other two ATV engines over the thumping of his own heartbeat in his head. A slow grin broke across his dirt encrusted face as he saw the lights switch to high beam on him and he raised a hand to cover his eyes.

  “Mitch?” he heard a familiar voice call.

  “Of all the people,” he croaked, “I’m damned glad it’s you.” Mitch turned and began picking his way through the broken scrub brush.

  “Hold on a second,” Hatcher called. “Stay in there and I’ll pull you out.” Mitch stayed where he was and Hatcher tossed in a rope that he quickly tied off on the rear rack of the ATV.

  Mitch mounted his unit again and shifted it into reverse. Once they pulled it out of the brush, he assessed the damage in the road. Other than a cracked fender and a slightly bent rim, the little ATV was good to go. “If I don’t go too fast, it should be okay.” He patted the seat. “Double tough.”

  “Mount up. We’re conducting a search to see if we can find any of our people.” Hatcher seemed uncharacteristically grim.

  Mitch nodded, thinking of Darren. He looked up to Hatcher and noticed the deputy sheriff for the first time. “And who is your friend here?”

  Hatcher motioned toward Candy. “Deputy Olson,” he replied as he stowed the rope back in his storage compartment. “She’s assisting in the search.”

  Mitch smiled broadly and stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet ya.”

  Candy accepted his hand and marveled at just how huge the man’s hand was. Her eyes followed his arm up to the rest of him and she realized, he was monstrous. “You’re big,” she stammered, not realizing she was staring.

  Mitch’s smile widened as he mounted the ATV, straining the suspension. “I’ve been told that,” he quipped. Mitch nodded to Hatcher, “What’s the plan then? Just roll out and hope to run into some folks?”

  “Negative, gentle giant,” Hatcher replied as he fired up his ride. “There’s a watchtower on the next ridge.” He informed the pair. “The radio in it is powerful enough to reach out to all of the portables that our people are carrying.” Hatcher patted the radio on his belt. “These are decent for short range, but they’re crap for longer range. If anybody’s in a really low spot, we can’t reach them. The radio in the tower can reach clear out to the airport.”

  Mitch smiled as he started his own ATV. “Sounds like as good of a plan as any.”

  “Does that tower radio also work on police frequencies?” Candy asked hopefully.

  Hatcher gave her a sideways glance and nodded. “Police, fire… hell, even the National Guard can be reached with it.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked as she started her ATV. “Let’s get this convoy going.”

  As the Jeep lurched and bounced along the broken trail, Rich kept mostly to himself. His thoughts continued to follow
the trail of ‘what if’ and he found his stomach turning on him. More than once he had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat as the Jeep jumped over the rocky trail. The idea of one of the cannibalistic crazy people being at his home, exposing his wife and grandson to the sorts of violence he had seen made him want to scream. He snapped out of his own little self-made mental horror movie only to realize that Bill had been talking to him, and quite possibly for some time.

  “I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Rich admitted. “I was lost in thought and not really paying attention.”

  Bill shot him a sideways glance then turned his attention back to the road. “I was just commenting on the condition of the road. And how far out your house is,” he repeated. “It’s a good thing you live so deep in the woods. I doubt any of the nut jobs would venture out this far.”

  Rich considered what Bill said and shook his head. “It seems like it’s really out there, but it’s not. We just have to go so slow because this is an off-road trail.”

  Bill glanced at him and shrugged. “I’m not following you.”

  Richard pointed to the sides of the trail. “On either side of the trail, the terrain is fairly smooth, Bill. You could walk it with no problem. This trail is made tough because it is purposely made to be tough. It’s specifically made for off-roaders and is designed to be challenging.” Rich pointed off over a line of trees. “My house is roughly in that direction. It’s just outside the borders of the park. If you take the roads in the park, the speed limits are really slow, the roads are twisting and curving because it gives the tourists things to see. Plus, the road goes around certain landmarks, it avoids different things that would have been difficult to build a road through or over. Then you get outside the park and you have the state highways and…well, it’s just a longer drive than taking the shortcut. This. The off-road trail is just shorter. It’s a lot closer to the way a bird flies. It goes deep into the woods, over the rough stuff and it’s just a hop and a skip from the trail to my house.”