Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Caldera 5

  United We Fall

  Heath Stallcup

  Copyright © 2018 by Heath Stallcup

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my twin girls.

  You both love zombie stories and this is a different twist on the genre for you.

  It may not be what you’re used to, but if the ‘zombie apocalypse’ ever really does come, it most likely will be some kind of rage virus versus the slow, shambling, walking dead.

  Rule #1: Cardio…

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Caldera The Series

  About the Author

  Also by Heath Stallcup

  Also From DevilDog Press

  Untitled

  1

  Hatcher looked back and took in the force heading toward them. “Son of a…”

  Roger nodded slowly. “You can say that again.”

  “Secure the prisoner! Make sure he’s between us and them!” Hatcher waved the men through the doors and towards the truck. “Find cover!”

  Simon laughed as they dragged him to the side of the truck. “You are SO dead and you don’t even know it.”

  “Shove a sock in it.” Roger barked. He suddenly turned on Simon and gave him an evil grin. “Better yet…” He turned to the men clambering around the truck. “Anybody got really grungy underwear?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Hide and watch me.” Roger threatened.

  One of the men shook his head. “I’m going commando.”

  Roger nodded. “How about a nice smelly sock?”

  “Squirrel, so help me, I’m gonna—”

  “If you don’t shut your trap, you’re gonna taste toe jam.” Roger smacked him upside the head. “If he so much as belches, shove your sock in his mouth and tape his trap shut.”

  Hatcher stepped out and squared off with the men who were now dismounting. Roger appeared at his side and fed more shells into his tactical shotgun. Once all the engines were turned off and the gang members who were approaching slowed, Roger racked a round and pressed the barrel to the back of Simon’s head.

  “Give us Simon and we’ll kill you fast.” The lead man stated bluntly. You could barely see his mouth moving under the long gray whiskers. “Otherwise, we’ll just make you bleed real bad and leave you for the Ragers.”

  “Howdy boys. Didja miss me?” Roger stepped out and faced the group.

  One of the men near the front squinted at him. “Squirrel? Is that you? What the hell happened to your face?”

  “I took a shower and shaved, Squirt.” Roger shot him a beaming smile. He turned to the taller, gray- faced biker. “Sailor, this ain’t what it looks like.”

  “Looks to me like you done stepped in it, asshole.” Sailor did a doubletake and squinted at Roger. “How’d you know my name?”

  “I think that’s close enough.” Hatcher held a hand up. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  Sailor nodded toward Simon, bound and kneeling on the ground. “Well, you found it, buddy.”

  Roger raised his voice so that they could all hear. “You know as well as I do that Simon is batshit crazy. You can try to deny it if you want, but you know it’s true.”

  “I’m gonna gut you for—” Simon gagged as the man behind him shoved a dirty sock into his mouth. He fought to push if out with his tongue but he heard the sound of duct tape ripping from a roll.

  “I warned you.” Roger whispered. He turned back to the group and stepped forward. “Sailor, we need to talk—”

  “How the fuck you know my name?” Sailor leveled his shotgun at Roger’s middle.

  Roger shook his head slowly. “I’m Squirrel, numbnuts.”

  Sailor squinted at him and shook his head. “No, you ain’t. Squirrel is bigger than you.”

  Squirt leaned close to Sailor. “Dude, I’m pretty sure that is Squirrel. He didn’t talk much but it sure sounds like him.”

  Sailor stiffened and thrust his shotgun out more firmly. “What are you doing with these Cagers, Squirrel? And what about Savage? Is he dead?”

  Roger looked to Hatcher who could only shrug. “The last we saw him, he was alive. My sister is a nurse and she’s doing all she can for him.”

  Sailor stepped forward and gave Hatcher a deadpan stare. “This just ain’t your day, is it?” Roger grabbed Hatcher’s vest and dove behind the front of the truck. The fiberglass fender erupted with a thunderous belch from the shotgun, sending pieces of plastic flying.

  Roger landed hard on his side with Hatcher nearly on top of him. The cacophony of gunshots echoed against the medical building as both the bikers and the survivors exchanged fire.

  Hatcher rolled to the side and pulled his pistol from the thigh holster. He aimed under the truck and began shooting at the exposed legs of the bikers. Those who fell clutched their destroyed limbs, their weapons clattering to the paved parking lot beside them. “Get the men loaded and get us the hell out of here!”

  Roger nodded and rolled behind the front wheel. He waved at Hank who was pinned behind the concrete planters at the ER entrance. “We’re retreating!”

  Hank gave him a wide- eyed and angry stare. “I’m pinned down here—” He ducked as another piece of the planter exploded near his head. He reached around the planter and fired more shots in the general direction of the bikers.

  Roger slumped near the wheel and glanced to the shattered entrance. He could see the flash of weapons fire from within. He waved his arms to get the men’s attention. “We’re getting out of here!”

  He watched as two of the fighters came forward and began laying down cover fire near the entrance. Three men rushed out of the building and around to the corner of the truck where Roger was hunkered down.

  He could hear motorcycles starting, the loud roar of their exhaust nearly lost to the sound of weapons fire. He bent low and rolled further to the side in time to see Simon’s back as he rode away with a small handful of his men in tow.

  “Son of a bitch!” Roger stood and marched to the rear of the truck. He leveled his shotgun on the two wounded men providing cover fire. “Drop ‘em!”

  The closest man held his hands up, his pistol dropping from his grip. The second man spun on Roger then doubled over when his midsection erupted with blood. Roger hadn’t heard the shot that bisected him but saw the men approaching from the front of the truck, their weapons leveled on the lone survivor.

  Roger spun and brought his weapon up. He realized quickly that Simon and his crew were too far away to be reached by the shotgun. He slowly lowered the long gun and uttered a series of epithets that would have made his mother blush.

  Hatcher appeared by his side. “Well that plan went to shit.” He turned and glared at Roger. “I thought your people wanted to join forces? Create a community?”<
br />
  Roger clenched his teeth hard enough to crack a molar and silently counted to five. He turned slowly and blew his breath out hard. “That was the plan. But we never actually got the opportunity to offer the olive branch of peace.” He looked back at the retreating brake lights and squeezed his eyes shut. “And the worst part is, we lost Simon.”

  “Good riddance.” Hank wiped at the concrete dust covering him. “That guy is a real asshole.”

  “Who was the gray-headed guy? The one you called Sailor?” Hatcher asked as he pulled the steps out for the men to load in the truck.

  “That’s all I ever heard him called.” Roger laid his shotgun in the back of the truck and leaned on the steps, his body beginning to shake as the adrenaline burned through his system. “He’ll probably become Simon’s second-in-command since Savage is out of the picture.”

  A scream in the hospital had all heads turning. Wally rushed toward the rear of the truck. “We need to haul ass, Hatch. We got incoming.”

  “Go!” Hatch waved him off and jumped into the rear of the truck. Roger felt his adrenaline spike again and followed Hatcher into the box. The truck shook and vibrated as Wally started it and pulled it away from the entrance.

  Hatcher watched as a small handful of men rushed to the nearby pickup and piled into it. The truck jerked and sped away from the hospital. In the glow of the tail lights he saw a mass of bodies erupt from the depths of the building.

  “Damn.” He turned away and leaned out of the other side of the box, ensuring that all of their numbers were safely loaded. He sighed and leaned against the inside wall of the box.

  Roger glanced back at the infected giving chase. He suddenly perked and stood up, his eyes straining in the low light. “Motherfucker…I thought he was dead.”

  Hatcher stepped to his side and Roger pointed to a lone Zulu standing at the rear of the rushing bodies. In his hand he held a piece of pipe over his head.

  “Who’s that?”

  Roger’s gaze narrowed as the truck put more distance between the charging mass. “That’s the son of a bitch that led the ambush.”

  Simon paced back and forth in front of his tent, his fists clenched nearly as tightly as his jaw. “Simon says…” he spun on his remaining lieutenants, “they have to die!”

  The men surrounding him shifted their weight from foot to foot and avoided eye contact. Sailor finally took a half step forward and looked up at him. “Boss, what about Savage?”

  Simon froze and turned to him slowly. “Are you fucking kidding me!” He kicked at a beer bottle on the ground and stomped to the old gray-bearded man. “Who gives two shits about Savage?” Spittle flew from his lips as he screamed at the vet.

  Another lieutenant leaned forward, his face painted with caution. “But, boss…Savage was your right-hand man. You stuck him like a pig.”

  Simon marched to the other man and jerked his face down lower by his chin hair. “You think I don’t fucking know that?” He pulled him closer and nearly gagged him with his booze breath. “Savage turned on us, you limp dicked idiot!” Simon jerked the man’s whiskers harder then let him fall to his knees.

  “Gather up any able body that can hold a weapon. We’re going hunting.” Simon turned to enter his tent when a lone voice broke his stride.

  “We don’t know where they are though.”

  Simon held the flap of his tent and felt the rough fabric as his grip tightened. He turned slowly and eyed the men standing around with confused looks. “We know where we picked up the truck. They have to be close to there. That truck didn’t just ‘appear’ out of nowhere, now did it?”

  “But boss, that’s an industrial area. They could be inside any of them buildings.”

  Simon felt his jaw quiver as he closed his eyes and counted. “Then I suppose we’ll have to just go door to door until WE FUCKING FIND THEM!” His face reddened and the veins of his forehead bulged with each beat of his heart. “We don’t stop until they’re all dead!”

  The men watched him disappear inside the tent and they glanced at each other questioningly. They slowly broke up and filtered back into the camp. None of them looked forward to telling the women and older children that they needed to find a weapon to hunt down one of their own.

  Vivian LaRue had just reentered the lab when Carol slowly approached her and handed her a chart. “You should look at this.”

  Vivian shot her a dirty look then glanced back at the aluminum case on her desk. “Whatever it is can’t be nearly as important as the sample I have here. I risked my life to get this sample and I don’t think—”

  “Dr. Carpenter is infected.” She thrust the chart at her more firmly and gave her a dissatisfied stare.

  Vivian sighed heavily and reached for the chart. “Why didn’t you start him on the treatment protocols that we used on the…” Her eyes scanned the chart and her shoulders slowly slumped. “This can’t be right.”

  “It is.” Carol stared at her shoes as she spoke. “I took it upon myself to implement the protocols as soon as his symptoms manifested. They slowed the progression but they didn’t cure him.”

  Vivian flipped through the chart. “Did you also start a series of antivirals?”

  “Of course.” Carol pointed to the chart. “In the back. Complete list of medications, doses, times…everything.”

  Vivian sat back and blew her breath out slowly. She laid the chart on the table and turned slowly to stare at the isolation ward. “And he won’t respond?”

  Carol shook her head. “He’s found some relief with the migraine medicines we put him on, but the headaches are getting worse. The pain feeds his anger and frustration and that manifests in outbursts that are…well, he had to be restrained.”

  Vivian pinched at the bridge of her nose and tried to think. She was sleep deprived and travel worn. Aches ran deep through her body and she couldn’t focus her thoughts. She handed the chart back to Carol. “Do what you think is best.” She reached across her desk top and slid the case closer. “I’m going to start in on the primordial sample. If there is an answer to be had with this, I’ll find it. Maybe it won’t be too late for Charles.”

  Carol stared at her open mouthed then reached for the chart. “Do you want to be kept informed?”

  Vivian shrugged. “If you think it best.”

  Carol spun and started to exit Vivian’s office. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

  Vivian sat up and turned to her. “Excuse me?”

  Carol stopped and held the chart up. “I’m glad it wasn’t you that got infected. I’m sure Doctor Carpenter would do everything in his power to help you rather than push you aside to work on your newest pet project.”

  Vivian was to her feet and glaring at the younger colleague. “How dare you?” Her voice seethed with anger.

  “What? Speak the truth?” Carol rolled her eyes. “You’re right. How dare me do that. Especially here.” She spun and pushed her way through the door. “I’ll send somebody to let you know when he’s finally dead.”

  Vivian shook with rage as the younger woman’s pony tail bounced away. She opened her mouth to scream at the perky young woman then forced herself to shut her mouth. It would be unprofessional to scream at the little bitch in front of the others.

  Vivian slowly turned and stared at the door to the isolation ward. She didn’t intend to enter but she soon found herself pressing the door open. She could see Charles strapped to the bed and she felt her anger wash away as he tugged at the straps.

  She slid in next to him and saw that he was asleep. Sweat beaded his face and he ground his teeth in pain, his body instinctively tugging at the leather restraints.

  In that moment, Vivian found herself wishing that she believed in a higher power. She rinsed a washcloth and squeezed the excess into the sink. She wiped gently across his forehead and nearly jumped when his eyes popped open, his head jerking to stare at her.

  “You’re back.”

  She barely recognized his voice. “Just now.” She dabbed at
his cheeks and sighed. “I’m so sorry Charles. I truly thought you were past the danger.”

  He tried to control his breathing and squeezed his eyes shut. “The little one…she put me on migraine medicines.” He swallowed hard and tried to focus. “They helped at first.”

  “Not now?”

  He shook his head. “I begged her to use a generator on me. Anything to kill this pain.”

  Vivian glanced through the small window on the door and wished that Ponytail had been nearby so she could yell at her. She turned her attention back to Charles and wiped at his face again. “I’ll see what I can do.” She stood and fought the urge to hold his hand. “Nobody should be made to suffer needlessly.”

  Charles nodded gratefully. “If you can’t get me a generator, have one of the soldiers put a bullet in my brain.”

  She turned and gave him a surprised look. “Why would you say that? I just got the sample back. Surely I can derive a cure from—”

  “You can’t know the pain!” He struggled against the straps again and forced his eyes shut. “It’s like there’s a hornet’s nest inside my brain and they’re mad, Viv. They’re pissed and they’re turning my gray matter into mush.”

  She watched him force his breathing under control and he cracked his eyes open to look at her. “Death would be a welcome reprieve.”

  “Shh, don’t talk like that, Charles.” She tossed the rag into the sink and stood slowly. “I’ll find a generator for you. Maybe once the pain has subsided you’ll think more clearly.”

  She watched as tears streamed from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not going to hold my breath.”