Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  She leaned closer. “Why not, Charles? You know the generator works on the infected.”

  He nodded weakly. “I’m not your average infected though, am I?” He struggled against the strap holding his head and stared at her. “If I was, the treatment you came up with would have worked for me like it did for the test subject.” He shook his head as much as he was physically able. “No, this is something different. A new mutation that we couldn’t model for. Something…”

  “Keep your chin up, Charles.” She stood and straightened her jumpsuit. “I will find a cure. And you will survive this.”

  He nodded weakly as she turned and marched to the door. She would find him a generator and relieve his pain…even if she had to build the damned thing herself…from Ponytail’s bones.

  2

  Hatcher hopped down from the truck and marched through the staging area. “Get that thing hidden and the doors sealed. I want the lights dimmed or out completely. Non-essential personnel are to remain in their areas and double the roof sentries. I want at least two pairs of eyes on every corner of the town at all times.”

  “Got it.” Wally turned and began barking at the others, relaying Hatcher’s orders.

  Candy trotted up and caught Hatcher’s arm. “Where’s Roger? Tell me he—”

  “I’m right here.” Roger appeared from behind a group of the men and Candy nearly cried with relief. “Things didn’t go as we had hoped.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  Hatcher got her attention. “How is the other guy? That Vicky was working on?”

  Candy shrugged. “She hasn’t said if he’d make it but she’s finished operating on him. She’s in the office polishing off the last of the brown liquor.”

  Hatcher gave Roger a solemn look. “That can’t be good.” He turned and headed to the office while Candy approached Roger.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper and nearly lost in the rushed activity inside the warehouse.

  Roger pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “I hoped to have something to live for.”

  She looked up at him and punched him in the shoulder. “You mean something like that?”

  He rubbed at the spot and gave her a lopsided grin. “I was hoping for something a bit more warm and fuzzy.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him and shook her head. “Just because you survive an altercation like this doesn’t mean that I’m going to—”

  Roger leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off before the rant could begin. At first, she stiffened and tried to push away but within a few short moments, she seemed to melt in his arms and wrapped her hands around his neck. When she began kissing him back Roger fought the urge to cry ‘victory’.

  When she pulled back, her head was swimming and she seemed to have trouble focusing on him. She blew her breath out hard and smiled at him. “It’s about time.”

  He gave her a confused look. “But I thought…”

  “That’s your trouble. You think too much.” She smiled at him and patted his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go check on your friend.”

  She turned and pulled him toward the infirmary. Roger followed, unable to comprehend her logic, but not really caring at the moment.

  They stopped by the office and listened in as Hatcher and Vicky discussed how Michael’s surgery went. “It was tough. His abdominals were cleanly sliced but you can’t stitch muscle back together.”

  “Why not?” Roger asked.

  Vicky looked up as if she had just noticed them standing in the doorway. “Oh, um…muscle is too soft to hold stitches. It will rip through like gelatin.”

  “So how do you…” Roger trailed off, his eyes practically begging for a positive response.

  “You have to stitch the connective tissue. There is dense white connective tissue that surrounds muscles and connects them to the tendons. On the good side though, muscle is very vascular so it tends to heal quicker and often times it’s stronger after it’s fully healed.” She turned her attention back to Hatcher. “But the dense white connective tissue? It heals very slowly. So, he’s going to be down for a while.”

  “But he’s out of the water?” Hatcher asked.

  Vicky averted her gaze and shrugged. “I’m no doctor, Daniel. And I’m definitely not a surgeon.” She looked up at Roger and gave him a soft smile. “I did the best I could with what I had. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s got a better than fifty-fifty chance.”

  Roger nodded and felt Candy tugging at his arm. “Come on. Let’s go check on him.”

  He followed her down the hallway and through a set of double doors into what once may have been a break room. Stella lay stretched out on the threadbare couch along the wall. The nurse’s office was at the far end and Candy led him to the door. “This is where Vicky does all of the tougher stuff.”

  Roger pulled the door open and saw Mike stretched out on a gurney, IV tubes running to his massive arms. “What’s all this?”

  Candy shrugged. “Probably just to keep him hydrated. And I’m sure it’s easier to administer meds through the IV than to try to find a vein each time.”

  Roger nodded and stepped closer to him. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “What? No flowers?” Mike’s voice sounded gravely and he barely had one eye cracked open.

  “You’re awake?” Roger leaned in closer and stepped beside the large man.

  “Naw, I just talk in my sleep.” Mike tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.

  “No, don’t try to move. I heard the lady and she said that where you was cut, it can take a long time to heal.” Roger patted his arm and gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m just glad you made it.”

  “I feel like hammered dog shit.” Mike glanced around the room. “Where’s Stella?”

  “Asleep out there.” Candy hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “She kept a pretty constant vigil over you during your surgery. As soon as Vicky came out and said you had survived it, she collapsed on the couch.”

  “Let her sleep. She needs it, I’m sure.” Mike turned and eyed Roger. “What happened?”

  “Simon knifed you, man.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Mike’s gaze narrowed. “I mean after. Did he follow us here?”

  Roger smiled. “He tried. Your girl gave him the slip. Then we led them to the hospital and…well, let’s just say that shit went sideways from there.”

  “So, we’re not all going to bunk up together and sing kum-by-yah?”

  “Not anytime soon.” Roger pulled a folding chair up closer and sat down. “I was really hoping you would have swayed public opinion on that idea before all of this happened.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “I didn’t really get a chance, man.” He glanced at Candy then back to Roger. “I was trying to wait on an opportunity to…” he trailed off.

  “To kill him?” Candy asked.

  Mike shook his head. “No. I wanted to confront him. Make the others realize just how fucking nuts he is. Then I could either proclaim myself the leader and challenge Simon to try and take it back or…”

  “Or kill him.” Candy deadpanned.

  Mike nodded and Roger winced. Candy patted his arm and stepped closer. “It’s okay, Roger. Some people need killing.”

  Mike nodded. “And Simon is one of them people.”

  Roger stood and pushed the chair back. “Look buddy, you concentrate on healing. Let us worry about stuff out there.” He shot Candy a grin. “If there’s any way to sway the gang into turning on Simon, we’ll think of it.”

  “As soon as I can walk, I can—”

  “No!” Candy barked and pointed at him. “You’re going nowhere. You lay your big, hairy ass right there on that uncomfortable gurney and you rest. You need to heal.”

  Both men stared at her and her sudden assertive attitude. “Yes ma’am.” Mike muttered and pulled the wool blanket up tighter to his chin. He glanced at Roger and whispered, “She scares me.”

  Roger chuckled and
patted the man’s arm. “She should. She used to be a cop.”

  “Once a cop, always a cop.” Candy corrected. She tugged at Roger’s arm. “We’re going. You sleep. Hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Mike glanced to Roger again. “Hit the lights on your way, man.”

  “You got it.” Roger flipped the lights off and the pair stepped out and back into the old break room. “I think he’s gonna be good.”

  “I certainly hope so.” She gripped his arm tighter and nodded toward Stella. “For her sake.”

  Sailor meandered through the camp and watched the people scurry about attempting to create makeshift melee weapons. He thought back to when Simon confiscated the firearms that the families owned or had scrounged up after things went to Hell. He didn’t trust the ‘common folk’ with real weapons and mandated that they would have their protection provided by his trusted minions.

  Now they were left hacking at tree limbs and using carving knifes or machetes to create usable clubs for themselves. Sailor shook his head and scoffed. He had seen the weapons they would be facing. If the Cagers had more at their compound, they would be sending these people to their certain deaths.

  He sighed heavily and turned for Simon’s tent. Once he got there, he stepped past the women sitting around the fire outside the tent. He slapped at the heavy canvas flap. “Boss. We need to talk.”

  “What’s to talk about?” Simon sounded rushed inside and Sailor risked entering without permission. He wasn’t expecting the sight that he stumbled on. Simon had one of his wenches bent over and he was going to town on her. Sailor averted his eyes but Simon never missed a beat. “What do you want?”

  Sailor swallowed hard and kept his back turned. “I think you need to release the weapons back to the folks that had them.”

  He grunted loudly and sighed heavily. Sailor could only assume that he’d finished ‘blowing off steam’. A moment later a half-dressed woman pushed past Sailor and practically ran from the tent. “Why in the hell would I do that?”

  “You saw the weaponry these assholes have. If we sent women and children against them armed with clubs and pig stickers, they’ll be mowed down.”

  “Not my problem.”

  Sailor spun on him, his face a mask of confusion and shock. “What?”

  “You heard me. That’s not my problem.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” Sailor squared his shoulders and stood at his full height. “These are our people. You can’t possibly think—”

  “What I think is none of your goddam business!” Simon barked. He bounced as he pulled his leather pants up and tugged at the zipper. “What IS your business is getting those people ready to march on those assholes. They’re sitting on MY stuff and I want it.”

  Sailor took a half step back, his gaze narrowing on Simon. “You can’t be serious.”

  Simon spun and glared at him. “I’m deadly serious. Now get your old wrinkled ass out there and get them ready.” Simon turned and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “Or do I need to find somebody who will?”

  Sailor stared at his back and tried to think of the proper response. On the one hand he wanted to put a bullet in the back of the man’s head. On the other, he had vowed his loyalty to the man who had kept them alive through this shit storm. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes sir.”

  Simon smiled to himself as Sailor disappeared through the flap. He leaned into the mirror he kept wired to the main pole in the middle of his tent and ran a hand through his hair. He winked to himself before he went to the flap and nodded to another woman waiting outside. “Next.”

  Vivian handed out the research material that Doctor Andrews had been working on. “We gathered this at great risk.” She tried not to think of Hollis and the sacrifice he had made to ensure that they all escaped. “We lost good men retrieving this.”

  “And what are we looking for?” Ponytail asked.

  Vivian felt her anger rise but she refused to act on it. “Anything that can help us figure out a way to use the virus against itself.”

  “Against itself?” A researcher asked.

  “If there is a way that the primordial virus can be used to…reprogram the newer variants. To override the mutations, then we can use that against it.” She sighed heavily and stared at the huge stack of material. “These are the paper files. I have IT techs going through the hard drives. If there is anything that even remotely looks important, flag it and come to me with it.”

  She watched as the researchers went to work and she pulled Ponytail aside. “I have a special project for you.” She smiled and Carol noted that it didn’t reach her eyes.

  She nodded softly. “What’s that?”

  “Find a damned generator and get it in the isolation ward for Charles.” She dared the little bitch to defy her order with her eyes. She watched as the color drained from her face and she nodded quickly.

  “Certainly.” Ponytail turned and practically ran from the lab.

  Vivian sat back and pinched at the bridge of her nose. The lack of sleep and the stress of the trip to retrieve the primordial virus were taking their toll on her. Her head throbbed and the cramps in her neck and shoulders made it nearly impossible to concentrate. And of all the times that she needed to concentrate, this was definitely at the top of the list.

  She pulled the printout of the genetic sample from the desk and slipped it into the light box. Her mind instantly switched to when she and Neils first stumbled upon this nasty bit of ancient bioweapon. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

  Bioweapon. That was exactly what the government wanted to turn this into. She could only imagine the devastation this virus would have caused if released initially in a third world country. It had been released in the States and spread so quickly that mankind was now an endangered species. If it had first been used in a part of the world with less than stellar medical facilities, she was certain that mankind would no longer be here. The foothold the virus would get would be so much stronger…

  She looked away from the printout and squeezed her eyes shut. The thoughts that ran through her mindwere nearly enough to stagger her in her current state.

  Ponytail burst through the doors of the lab with a gray box in her arms. She struggled to carry it to the isolation ward and glanced at Vivian, hoping she would unlock the door for her.

  Vivian sighed heavily and trudged to the door, her hand reaching for the lock. “That’s the most current variation?”

  Ponytail nodded, her face showing the fatigue from carrying it throughout the ship. “Even as compact as it is, it’s still a beast to carry.”

  Vivian pulled the door open and pushed a wheeled cart into the room. She saw Charles’ eyes pop open and he gnashed his teeth at the pair. Ponytail gave him a wide berth and set the generator on the cart. She ran the cord to the outlet and quickly plugged it in. “Turning it on now.”

  Ponytail stepped back as the light on the machine glowed orange then a barely audible sound came from the speaker.

  Charles’ eyes grew wider and he roared, his voice sounded like he had gargled with broken glass. Vivian quickly grabbed the frequency knob and began adjusting it each way until Charles’ face registered relief.

  His entire body seemed to sigh and his jaw fell open, his eyes glazing over as she fine-tuned the output.

  Vivian approached him from the right and placed a worried hand on his. “Better?”

  He glanced at her and he looked stoned. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. Vivian’s brows knitted and she leaned closer. “Charles?”

  The man laying on the gurney smiled broader and a small line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.

  Vivian looked up at Ponytail. “Do any of the other subjects respond in such a manner?”

  Ponytail shook her head. “They look bored.” She shrugged. “I mean, their relief is obvious, but…they don’t look like that.”

  Vivian sighed heavily and nodded. “He’s right. This is completely different.”

  3


  Hatcher paced, his eyes scanning the horizon as the sun slowly rose behind him. He could see the long shadows melt away as the sun climbed in the sky and he knew that the marauders were somewhere to their west. He brought the binoculars to his eyes again and squinted through the dirty lenses, hoping he could catch some sign of movement.

  “Maybe they actually slept the night away. It is easier to hunt people down in daylight.” Hank offered, his tone suggesting that Hatcher catch a few winks himself.

  Hatcher grunted and lowered the spy glasses. “They’re out there. They’re pissed. They’ll want blood.”

  “No doubt.” Hank laid a meaty hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “But you ain’t gonna do us any good if you don’t get some rest too.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  “I’d rather that day come a lot later rather than sooner.” Hank reached for the binoculars and pulled them away. “You need to sleep, Hatcher. We’ve all got eyes. We can keep watch.”

  Hatcher opened his mouth to reply when Hank squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be the first one we notify if we see anything.”

  Hatcher blew his breath out, feeling the fatigue hit him and he nodded slowly. “I’ll keep the radio on just in case.”

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hank escorted him to the roof access and watched as he climbed down the ladder.

  Hank switched his radio to the alternate frequency and called Vicky. “Hatch is on his way down. Dope him if you have to, but the man needs some rest.”

  “Copy.” Vicky clicked her radio volume down and entered the main warehouse looking for her brother. She spotted him working his way across the expanse and intercepted him. “Where ya headed?”

  “I’m gonna lay down for a bit.”

  She turned and walked alongside him. “I’m sure Candy can take over for you.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “Right now, it’s hide and wait. If we spot any activity, we shut down everything, keep the noise low and pray that they don’t do a building search.”