Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Hatcher studied the man for a moment then turned to Roger. “What do you think?”

  Roger nodded. “I think it’s our best chance to end the violence before it really begins.”

  Coop turned his attention back to Roger. “You realize, if you beat him down, you’ll be in charge.”

  Roger nodded. “It was supposed to be Savage in charge.” He sighed and looked to Hatcher. “I don’t guess it matters who, so long as we save lives, right?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “The marauders are your people.”

  Coop raised a brow at the name. “Marauders, eh?” He chuckled. “I kind of like that.”

  “I don’t.” Roger and Hatcher both replied.

  Sailor turned back to Roger. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

  Roger handed Hatcher the pistols. “Don’t tell Candy until I’m gone, will ya?”

  “And I’m telling you that I need a specialist.” Vivian stared at the Command Duty Officer with wild eyes.

  “I understand what you’re saying doctor, but I have no idea where we could find somebody who specializes in viral DNA.” He eyed her cautiously, knowing that something was ‘off’ about her. “I thought you were the bug specialist.”

  She threw her hands into the air. “No, I’m not a virologist. I was researching mitochondrial DNA when we stumbled upon the virus.”

  “Doc, I get that. But I have no idea where you might find a virologist.” He shrugged. “To my knowledge, all of the remaining scientists in your field are already on this boat.”

  She sighed again and leaned against the bulkhead. “Then we may be doomed.”

  “I thought you only needed the primordial sample to generate a way to fight this thing?”

  She nodded slowly. “Originally, yes. But after Dr. Carpenter became infected, I compared his mutated version of the virus to the other mutations. The changes are minor, but they’re significant. The same treatment protocols aren’t effective against the new strain.”

  “I’m sure the grand majority of the infected people are suffering from one of the older strains, yeah?”

  She nodded. “Currently, yes. But the mutated strain that Charles has could easily mutate within their infected bodies as well. Remember, he was infected by a test subject here on the ship that had an older version of the infection.”

  The CDO sat down and stared at her. “I’m sort of following you doc, but I’d be lying if I said I really understood.”

  “I’m saying I need a true virologist.”

  “And I understand that part. I just don’t know where to get one.”

  Vivian cursed under her breath then reached for the door. “What good are you military people anyway?”

  The CDO opened his mouth but held his tongue as she stormed off. He reached for the phone. The Admiral needed be made aware of the situation so that he could brief the president.

  Simon stepped out of his tent and inhaled deeply of the cool night air. “I think it’s time we started.” He turned up his whiskey bottle and took a long pull then beamed brightly at the women seated around his campfire. “Inform the others that it’s time to march.”

  A mousy woman nodded excitedly and jumped up to leave. Simon staggered toward the fire and unzipped his pants. He chuckled to himself as his urine made a hissing sound in the crackling fire. “Turn it to steam and let it rise to the heavens.” He turned a toothy grin to the women avoiding his gaze. “In other words, piss on ‘em all, right?”

  He zipped his pants and pointed to the sky. “You know…god and shit, right?” He looked to each woman as his smile slowly faded. “You bitches got no sense of humor.”

  “Boss!” Simon spun and regretted the move as his head spun. His eyes fought to focus and he squinted in the orange glow of the campfire. A gangly fellow that he recognized but had yet to name rushed to him. “We can’t find Sailor, boss. I think he mighta took off.”

  Simon squared his shoulders and felt his anger rise. “Find me that sumbitch! I want his old, wrinkled ass RIGHT HERE!”

  “We’re looking boss, but as of right now, we don’t—” His words were cut off at the sound of a Harley engine revving in the distance.

  Both men turned and stared at the pair of headlights slowly approaching. “I bet that’s him boss.” The gangly fellow stammered. “I bet he went to look for them people.”

  Simon pushed past the man and squinted in the darkness. He knew he was drunk, but he could swear there were two headlights approaching. He grabbed the shivering man and pushed him forward. “How many are they?”

  “T-two, boss. There’s two.”

  Simon nodded. “I thought so.” He pushed the thin man away and stepped forward. He fought to remember the last time he spoke to the old man and he couldn’t remember giving anybody permission to scout the targets.

  Sailor had some explaining to do.

  5

  Hatcher slowed the four-wheeler and killed the engine a block away while Roger and Dave went ahead. He reluctantly pulled the tape off the headlight and wadded it into a ball. If he needed to make a hasty retreat, he’d need to be able see. He just hated the fact that whoever was chasing him would also see where he was going.

  Hatcher pulled the rifle from the rear rack and stared down the street behind him. He couldn’t see Hank or Wally, but he knew they were back there. Waiting.

  Hatcher trotted closer, sidling in next to a tree along the border of the camp. He put the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope.

  Roger and Dave drove right to the edge of the camp and Hatcher watched as both men dismounted. He watched Dave pull his riding gloves off and slap them across the tank of his motorcycle before he turned and spoke with Roger.

  Hatcher really wished he was closer and could hear the conversation. He ground his teeth together then put his eye back to the scope. He scanned the slowly growing crowd, his eyes looking for the Marauder’s leader. He saw the man staggering through the crowd, pushing people out of his way as he closed the distance.

  Hatcher squinted, trying to see better through the scope when the shouting started. He watched as Dave seemed to deflate, his head shaking as he stepped aside, leaving Roger to face the crowd and their insane leader.

  Hatcher blew his breath out hard and flipped the safety to ‘fire’ on the rifle. He pulled the buttstock in tighter and slid his finger from the guard to the edge of the trigger. He placed the crosshairs on Simon and let his breath out slowly. “Give me a reason…”

  Sailor slapped his gloves onto the tank of the Harley and took a deep breath. “This is it, man. You ready?”

  Roger turned the key on the four-wheeler and dismounted, the adrenaline starting to flow as the realization struck him what was about to happen.

  “I’m as ready as I can be.” He glanced at the slowly approaching crowd. “Honestly Sailor, I dunno if I’m up for this.”

  Dave reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t, most of these people are gonna be stains on the concrete.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head. “If I were a younger man, I might could see breaking my word to save a group this size. But we both know, I’m too old and too fucking tired to be playing these games. Even with a massive dose of Viagra, I couldn’t win a cock measuring contest, and I’m not about to try to start now.”

  Roger looked at the old man, his mouth opened to reply, but words escaped him. He watched as Sailor dropped his hand from his shoulder and the two stepped toward the crowd.

  Simon pushed his way through the gathering throng, his voice echoing in the darkness. “What the ever-living FUCK, Sailor?” He pushed a small- framed woman out of his way and stepped forward, his gate still wobbly from the whiskey.

  “I brought Squirrel back, Simon.”

  “My eyes fucking work!” Simon squinted in the darkness and watched as Sailor seemed to deflate, shaking his head as he stepped away. “I ought to gut you where you stand.”

  Roger squared his shoulders and stepped forward. “Give it your best shot,
Simon.” He turned his gaze to the crowd. “You all know as well as I do that he’s batshit crazy.” He watched as most of the crowd’s eyes fell to the ground.

  “They ain’t listening to you, Squirrel.” Simon spat on the ground and hitched his pants up. “You fellas grab him. We’ll make an example of him.”

  Roger stepped forward again and pointed at Simon. “I’m challenging YOU, Simon!” He yelled so that his voice would carry throughout the camp. “Sailor tells me you want to march the women and children of this camp against the local’s compound. He knows that none of you can survive an assault like that even if you had military weapons!” Roger spun slowly, allowing his face to be seen and his voice to carry. “And what has he armed you with? Rocks and sticks?”

  “Fuck you, Squirrel!” Simon screamed. He spun and pushed one of the men standing near him towards the interloper. “I said grab this son of a bitch!”

  Roger stepped closer and pointed to Simon. “This ends tonight.” His eyes narrowed and he glared at the drunk. “Me and you. Right here. Right now. Winner rules the camp.”

  “Fuck you, Squirrel. You have no claim on our gang.” He spat again and staggered slightly. “My boys are gonna chew you up and spit you out.”

  Roger crossed his arms and looked to the men that had gathered to watch. “Really? I don’t see any of them stepping forward.”

  Simon grabbed another man and pitched him forward, losing his balance as he shoved, and nearly falling. “I said GRAB HIM!”

  Roger shook his head. “I think your days are numbered, asshole.” He stepped forward and Simon tried to back away. He found his avenue of escape blocked, faceless hands pushing him forward.

  “Stop it! Let me—” A blood curdling scream echoed through the camp and had all of the people staring into the darkness wide eyed.

  “Shit.” Roger muttered. He glanced behind him and made a motion with his hand.

  Hatcher scanned the area as soon as he heard the Zulu call. He caught Roger’s signal and began moving forward. He keyed his radio, “Boys, cover your six. We have Zulus in the area.”

  Hank’s voice came across his earpiece tinny, but the fear was evident. “We heard it, Hatch. Moving.”

  Roger turned his attention back to Simon. “I don’t have time for this shit.” He stepped forward and caught the man off guard. A solid right hook to the temple laid the drunk out. He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Break out the weapons! The Crazies are on us!”

  Colonel Vickers knocked lightly on the office that Vivian LaRue was utilizing. He pushed the door open and found her bouncing feverishly from file to file, her hair unkempt and her face looking pale and gaunt.

  “Dr. LaRue?”

  Her head snapped up and she stared at him with wild eyes. “What?” she barked.

  Colonel Vickers stepped inside carefully and closed the door behind him. “The Command Duty Officer informed the chain of command of your request.”

  She slammed a book closed and glared at the man. “I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances. Unless I get a real virologist here, I’m afraid that my hands are pretty much tied.”

  Colonel Vickers felt a worrying niggle in the back of his mind. Does she have a different mutated strain of the virus?

  He swallowed hard and gave her his best smile. “We’ve reached out to what’s left of ally nations.”

  Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “And?”

  He nodded slowly. “And, we may have found you a virologist. He’s from France, but he does speak English.”

  “How soon can you get him here?” Her voice was panicked and nearly screeching.

  Colonel Vickers nodded and approached her cautiously. “He’s on his way now. He should be here early tomorrow. We have him on the fastest plane we could find.”

  She sat down, her entire body quivering as she nodded. “Good. That’s good.” She glanced up at him. “That’s good, right?”

  “Yes, that’s very good.” He tucked both arms behind him and gave her a worried look. “Dr.…Vivian? When was the last time you actually slept?”

  She shook her head, her eyes bouncing throughout the office. “I don’t remember.” She chewed nervously at her thumbnail then jerked her head toward him. “What day is this?”

  Colonel Vickers blew his breath out slowly and turned for the door. “You are to go to bed until your virologist arrives.” He gave her a soft smile. “That’s an order, Doctor.”

  She shook her head, her mind incapable of understanding. “I can’t. I must find…the cure. Dr.… Charles…he needs me to find…”

  Colonel Vickers leaned out into the hallway and nodded to the two men waiting outside. The orderlies rushed in and grabbed Dr. LaRue. One of them jabbed a needle into her arm while she bucked and kicked, swearing at them both.

  The orderly depressed the plunger and the two men continued to hold her as she fought them. The sedative was fast acting and her struggles became weaker until she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Take her to her room and put her to bed.” He glanced at the men. “How long will that be in her system?”

  “She’ll get a good twelve hours with the dose we shot her up with, sir.”

  “Good.” Vickers held the door while the men carried her into the hallway. “As soon as you get her put to bed, search everywhere she has access. Find out what she’s been taking and confiscate it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stepped aside and watched as they dragged her down the hallway and to her stateroom. He glanced back to her office and eyed the mess. He sighed as he pulled the door shut. “If we’re expecting her to pull our fat from the fire, we’re doomed.”

  Simon stirred when he was thrown unceremoniously into his tent. The women who served his needs were quickly evacuating. He rolled to his side and glared at them. “Hey, where are you going?”

  The small mousy one that he had yet to name turned and flipped him the bird before tugging his tent flap closed.

  “It’s a coup.”

  He spun and glared in the dim light of the lantern. His one true and faithful wench was wringing out a rag with water.

  “A what?”

  “Squirrel is taking over.” She wiped gently at the side of his face and he winced when she touched his temple.

  “Squirrel is…” He shook his head and grabbed her wrist. “When did…” He glanced to the door of the tent. A scream sounded that caused his blood to run cold. “The Crazies are on us, ain’t they?”

  “Shh.” She wiped at his face again. “You need to rest. Sober up. Get your bearings again.”

  He grabbed her arm and twisted, bringing her to the ground. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I’m just trying to—” She pulled her arm free then pushed him back, straddling him. “Let them deal with this.” She pointed toward the tent flap.

  “Them, who?”

  “Squirrel and his new followers. Let them deal with the Crazies.” She shot him an evil smile. “Maybe they’ll take out a few of the disloyal fucks for you. It will make it that much easier for you to regain control and lead us again.”

  Simon pushed her off of him and struggled to get to his feet. He braced himself on the pole that supported the center of his tent and shook his head to try and put the marbles back in their proper place.

  “I remember Sailor…he brought Squirrel back.”

  “The traitor!” She spat on the ground and came to her feet, the washrag still in hand. “You should kill them both as soon as you’re able.”

  He held a hand out, keeping her at length. “I need a drink.”

  “No, that’s the last thing you need. You probably have a concussion.”

  He spun and shot her a hateful glare. “How the hell would you know?”

  She held her hands up, praying he wouldn’t advance. “I-I was training to be a nurse when the world died.”

  Simon snarled at her. “It ain’t dead yet.” He staggered to his footlocker and kicked it open. He pull
ed out a sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun and flipped it open. Two fresh rounds gleamed at him and he quickly snapped it shut.

  He bent carefully and dug around the bottom of the locker until he came up with a small handful of shells. He quickly shoved them into his pants pocket then stepped to the flap of his tent.

  “You might want to stay here. Shit’s about to get real.”

  She watched him slip out of the tent and almost immediately heard the report of the shotgun.

  6

  Roger directed the men to the edges of the camp. Those with firearms were the primary line of defense and those who only had blades available were to be the last line, protecting the women and children.

  “Those with rifles, get to the darker areas. Those with handguns…stay close to the fires.” He pushed and tugged at the men, directing them to their places.

  “But Squirrel, the rifles shoot further. Shouldn’t they be near the fires so they can—”

  “Light from the fire kills your night vision. You won’t see as far and handguns are for close range, now move your ass!” He shoved the man toward his station and nearly jumped when Hatcher appeared at his side.

  “Hank and Wally are catching movement on two sides. Best guess is that they’re surrounding us.”

  Roger shook with rage. “We just got these people safe. The last thing we need is—”

  The shotgun blast caught them all off guard and all eyes turned in the general direction of the noise. Roger caught a fleeting glimpse of Simon disappearing around the corner of his tent, one of the men laying on the ground near his campfire.

  “Son of a bitch.” Roger pointed toward Simon. “He’s getting away!”

  The sound of a Harley engine roaring to life told them that they’d never catch him on foot. Roger turned to run for Sailor’s ride when Hatcher held him back. “Let him go.” He pulled Roger around to look him directly in the eye. “Let the Zulus have him. We need to protect these people.”