Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Simon stepped into the master bedroom and smiled. Whoever had lived here had good taste. He rifled through the dresser drawer and tossed out the socks and underwear. The next set of drawers had silk underwear and frilly things. He glanced around and saw the wedding picture on the chest of drawers.

  He snatched it and leaned toward the light coming through the window. Whoever they were, they looked like the young professional couples you see on TV. He was clean shaven and had short hair. She was a brunette with big teeth and a pretty smile.

  He tossed the picture aside and continued to rifle through the room. He pulled open the drawer on the nightstand and smiled. He picked up the revolver and checked the cylinder. “Fully loaded. So nice of you to think of me.” He slipped the .38 into his waistband and continued to rifle through their belongings.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a short stack of pictures. He smiled to himself as he looked at the wife in a black teddy, her smile trying to override her blushing cheeks. He flipped through to the next one and she had pulled the strap off of her shoulder.

  “This might be good.” He grunted and flipped to the next. The second strap was pulled down and she had a naughty but innocent look on her face. He flipped to the next and she was peeling the teddy down further. The next one showed her bare back, the teddy around her waist.

  He quickly flipped to the next one and the teddy was gone, her back exposed and he could just make out the rounded tops of her hips. He quickly flipped to the next one and she had covered her breasts with her hands. He flipped to the next one and…it was the first picture.

  He went through them again, tossing them to the ground as he went. “Son of a…what a fucking tease.” He pulled the drawer completely from the night stand and dumped it unceremoniously on the bed. He scattered the belongings and wanted to scream. “No nudes? What a prude.” He tossed the drawer across the room and his eyes settled on the closet.

  He walked over and pushed the man’s clothes aside. He began pulling boxes down from the top of the closet and smiled. His hand wrapped around the box of .38 hollow points and he slipped it open. There were exactly six missing from the box.

  “Poor fucker never even shot the thing.” He dumped them into his hand then shoved them into his vest pocket.

  He rummaged through the rest of the house and other than a machete in the tool shed, he had picked it clean of weapons.

  Simon gathered up the food stuffs that he thought he could choke down and tossed it into a pillow case. He marched back out to the bike and an idea began to form in his brain.

  He turned slowly, his eyes scanning the neighborhood. “Rich people. Nice houses.” He nodded as he continued to stare at the homes. “I bet there’s more weapons.” He licked his lips. “And booze.”

  9

  “What’s the problem?”

  Roger turned and saw Hatcher approaching. “They want to leave.”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “So, they can tell Simon where we are?”

  The men all seemed to turn to him at once, their faces reflecting confusion. “No.” One man said, his head shaking. “Screw Simon.”

  “Then why do you want to leave?”

  The closest man lowered his face then glanced toward the back of the warehouse. “Donna don’t want me.” He lifted his eyes and squared his shoulders. “If she don’t want me around, I don’t want to be around. I couldn’t take seeing her with another man.”

  Hatcher turned to the others. “And you?”

  Another man shook his head. “I don’t do well with big crowds. I didn’t like being in Simon’s gang to begin with but they said there was safety in numbers.” He swallowed hard. “If I’d had a way, I would have bailed on him a long time ago.”

  Hatcher looked at the other two. One of the men looked like he had spent some time behind bars. His prison tats suggested as much. He lifted his eyes and Hatcher could have sworn they were the dead eyes of a shark. Or a lawyer.

  “Yeah, I’d rather be with Simon.” He set his jaw defiantly. “At least with him, I knew what kind of crazy I was dealing with.”

  Hatcher looked at the last man but he said nothing. He looked more like a dentist or an accountant than a hardened criminal. “What’s your story?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I just want to find my family.” He swallowed hard then looked toward the gates. “If they’re still alive.”

  Hatcher grabbed Roger by the arm and pulled him aside. “Thoughts?”

  Roger sighed and glanced back at the men. “The ex-con, I don’t trust. The others?” He shrugged. “I’m probably wrong, but I believe them.”

  Hatcher scratched at the back of his neck and eyed the four men. “Are there others like you?”

  “You mean, that want to leave?” The con asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me.”

  Hatcher shook his head, his mind running in circles. “If we let them go and they tell Simon where we are…”

  Roger shrugged. “Let them tell. We have hundreds to their…what? Five? I’m sure we can hold our own.”

  Hatcher rubbed at his jaw. “But something you said before…about him burning us out.”

  Roger nodded. “We’re in a steel building. He can’t—”

  “He could still cause a shit ton of problems.” Hatcher took a deep breath, his mind racing. “A rocket launcher or explosives or—”

  Roger gripped his arm, stopping him. “Seriously? Surely you’ve raided most of the places in town.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “See many rocket launchers out there?”

  Hatcher closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “No, but there are a lot of construction places out there. Some of them might have TNT. Strap it to a vehicle, point it our direction and…” He trailed off, allowing Roger’s own imagination to run.

  Roger cast a furtive glance at the men who were beginning to look antsy. “So what? We just take them around back and put a bullet in their head?” He stepped closer to Hatcher and lowered his voice. “Is that who we are?”

  Hatcher shook his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of trying to convince them to stay.” He raised a brow at Roger. “That sounds like something Simon would do.”

  “Simon did.” Roger deadpanned. “Those that he deemed trouble makers or that he thought couldn’t add to the collective, he had put down.”

  Hatcher turned and walked back to the men. “Is there any chance I could convince you to stay? Just to check us out and realize that we’re not the bad guys here. We’re just trying to survive the end of the world while the government tries to find a cure.”

  “Somebody is trying to cure those things?” The accountant seemed shocked. He glanced toward the staging area then back to Hatcher. “I really just want to find my family. If we’re not prisoners then—”

  “You most definitely are NOT prisoners here.” Hatcher stated. Almost immediately the ex-con turned and sauntered toward the staging area. “But we’d like you to stay and give us a chance to prove ourselves.”

  The ex con turned back and flipped him the bird. “Up yours, man. Given a choice between locked up here or out there and free to do what I want? Three guesses, asshole.”

  Roger chewed at his lower lip. “That guy is going to be trouble.”

  Hatcher motioned to the sentry. “Stop him.”

  The ex con turned and shot a hateful glare at him. “I thought you said we weren’t prisoners.”

  Hatcher nodded. “You’re not. But if you’re leaving then we’re going to blindfold you and take you out of here. You might know where we are, you might not. I figure it’s a fifty-fifty shot you can find your way back.”

  The accountant stuck his hand out, reaching for Hatcher’s. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know that I’m doing you any favors buddy.”

  The accountant’s eyes narrowed as he studied him. “If it were you and your family was still out there…wouldn’t you look for them?”

 
; Hatcher couldn’t argue. “We’ll get you some supplies. Some food, water.”

  “A weapon.” Roger added. He glanced at Hatcher. “We can’t send them out there unable to protect themselves. The friggin’ Crazies are everywhere.”

  Hatcher nodded. “We’ll get you a weapon and some ammunition, too.”

  He eyed the other two men. “What about you? Still want to leave?”

  The nervous one who claimed to hate groups nodded slowly. “I just want out.”

  Hatcher looked at the fourth man. “And you?”

  The man glanced to the rear of the warehouse again and shook his head. “She made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me.” He sniffed back an unshed tear. “She actually told me that every time we were together…she felt like she was being raped.” He continued to shake his head. “I would never have hurt her.”

  Hatcher nodded and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to try to figure out this mess. If more women felt the same way as this guy’s ‘wife’…things could get messy really quick.

  “Fine. We’ll gear you up.” He raised his voice so the ex con could hear. “Stand tight while we gather some supplies.”

  Roger fell into step beside him. “Where will we take them?”

  “Outskirts of Albuquerque I guess. It’s far enough away that they’ll have trouble finding their way back.” Hatcher paused at the supply room and looked to Roger. “Do you want to take them? Maybe drop them off at a car lot or something. Let them find some form of transportation.”

  Roger nodded. “I’ll see if Hank or Wally wants to go along.” He glanced back at the ex con. “Just in case.”

  Dr. Andre Broussard entered the lab and took a look around. “This is remarkable.” His voice was thick and heavily accented. “I cannot believe that you work in such conditions.”

  Carol gave him a polite smile and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “We do the best we can with what little we have.”

  He continued to walk through the lab, his brow raising at the equipment at their disposal. “Practically medieval.”

  Carol pursed her lips to keep from yelling at the man. “It’s not much, but it’s what is available.”

  He suddenly stiffened and turned to the orderlies. “It is a good thing I brought my own equipment.” He snapped his fingers at the men. Both looked at him as though he were daft. “Go. Bring my things. Dépêche-toi.”

  The men looked at each other and simultaneously crossed their arms, their faces stern. Dr. Broussard turned and looked at the other researchers. “What is the problem?”

  “They’re not servants.” Carol stated as she marched past the orderlies and pulled the lab door open. “I’ll help you with your things.”

  Broussard huffed and marched past the men, his nose in the air. “I have never.”

  “You’ll learn, doctor. It’s an American thing.” She rolled her eyes and pulled the door shut.

  The pair made their way to the flight deck where his gear was neatly stacked beside a hatchway. A sailor was sitting on one of the metal cases, a cigarette in his hand. “Shoo! Shoo!” Broussard waved the man away. “That equipment is worth more than you are!” He huffed as he inspected the metal case, inspecting it for damage. Carol did another eye roll.

  If this continues, I may have to throw him overboard. “I’m sure your equipment is fine, doctor. Let’s just get it below and get you set up.”

  “I will require my own laboratory and at least two assistants.” He hefted one of the metal cases and looked at her.

  “And yet, you’ll have to share the lab with the rest of us and do your own fetching.” She shrugged before she lifted another case and motioned toward the door with her chin. “Welcome to what’s left of the United States, doctor.”

  He sighed heavily and began muttering in French as the pair made their way back to the lab. One of the orderlies was nice enough to open the door for Carol but he let it shut in front of the Frenchman. He turned his back and stifled a grin as the ‘fancy’ man began cursing in French.

  Carol smiled but shook her head. “He’s a pain, I know, but he’s here to help.” She reached around the orderly and pulled the door open. She tried to tune out the man as he continued his rant. He dropped the case and tried to kick it without the desired effect.

  Carol carried her case to a counter and set it neatly on top. She cleared the few things in the area then turned to Dr. Broussard. “This will have to do. Please, make yourself at home.”

  The man stared at the small space he had been given and shook his head. “This simply will not do. I must have—”

  “You are free to take your things back to the flight deck to work.” Carol crossed her arms and glared at him. “You’d have plenty of room, although it might get a bit breezy up there.”

  He stared at her open-mouthed then quickly shut it. He continued to mutter under his breath as he opened the cases and tried to set up his equipment.

  Carol used the distraction to check on Charles. He was sitting up in his bed and trying to look behind him and into the lab. “What’s the hubbub?”

  “Our French virologist is here and he doesn’t care for the working conditions.” She sat heavily on the chair beside his bed. “Right now, I envy you. You don’t have to deal with him.”

  Charles smiled then laid back. “I’d still rather have to put up with an irate Frenchman than lay in here.” He turned hopeful eyes to her. “I don’t suppose we’ve heard back from the CDO yet?”

  She shook her head. “Trust me. You’d be the first to know if we had.” She reached out and patted his arm. “The moment I know something, I promise.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “I actually prayed.” She paused and looked at him. “I haven’t believed in a higher power since I was…maybe five? But I prayed that I could get back to work. Even if it is in shackles.”

  She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “As soon as I hear, you’ll know.”

  He nodded and she slipped back out of the room. She stood in the lab and watched as the new addition to the team continued to curse and wave animatedly in the air. She closed her eyes and counted slowly to five. “I can’t believe that we’re humanities last hope.”

  Simon continued searching houses. He made it a point to search the master bedrooms as that seemed to be where the best stuff was stashed. He had found a Rolex watch, a bag full of jewelry, a small cache of firearms and more homemade porn than he would have thought available.

  He sat on the front porch of his latest conquest and flipped through the pictures. “Sweet body, but she’s definitely a two bagger.” He grimaced as he flipped through the pictures. “Nice face, no tits.” He shoved the pictures into a bag and leaned back, his hand reaching for the whisky he’d found.

  He took a long pull and enjoyed the burn as the brown liquor went down. He screwed the lid back on the bottle and came to his feet. He enjoyed the swimming sensation as the liquor took effect and he hefted his goody bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  He marched toward the lifted pickup that he’d found parked in front of one of the houses and laid the goods in the back. He leaned against the bed and stared out at the houses.

  “I could live here.” He took another pull from the whisky and studied the area. “I dunno if that fence would keep out the Crazies, but it should slow them down.” He walked to the cab and tossed the whisky across the front seat. He hopped into the truck and leaned on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I could definitely live here.”

  He started the truck and drove it to the end of the street. He had two houses left to ransack and he still needed to decide if he was staying or leaving.

  He worked his way through the first house and only found a few small canned goods. Nothing of value that he could find. The last house was larger and he pulled out his new favorite weapon to help clear it.

  The shiny nickel plating flashed as he waved the 10MM pistol around. He pushed the door open to the house and stepped inside like h
e owned the place. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

  He leaned forward and listened for noise. He wasn’t disappointed that the house seemed empty.

  He marched to the kitchen and kicked open the cabinets. He rifled through pots and pans and finally found the pantry.

  “Fuck me.” He grabbed the blue package and ripped open the plastic. He pulled out the tray of black discs and nearly cried. “I haven’t seen an Oreo in so long…”

  He lifted one slowly to his mouth and the explosion of flavor sent him back to his childhood. He actually craved a glass of milk.

  Simon ate half the package of cookies before stomping off to the master bedroom. He ransacked the drawers and came up with a lot of medications, just not the good kind.

  He pushed open the closet door and stared at what looked like ‘old people’ clothes. He growled low in his throat as he rifled through their belongings, actually happy he didn’t find any granny porn.

  He staggered back to the kitchen and scooped up the few edibles he could find. He shoved them into a box and set it by the door. He was about to count the last house as finished when he glanced at the door leading to the garage.

  Curiosity is a bitch sometimes.

  He opened the door slowly and the sweet smell of death greeted him. He held the door in the cracked position and leveled the pistol on the opening.

  He flung the door open and stared into the garage. The small rays of light entering through the windows of the garage door gave it a spooky feel. He stepped gingerly into the room and couldn’t make out much past the Buick parked within. “Anybody in here?”

  He heard his voice echo in the cramped space but there were no other sounds to alert him. He worked his way slowly to the end of the car and peered across to the other side of the garage.

  The remains of a small dog lay on the floor next to the car. He saw the two metal bowls along the wall, both empty. He decocked his pistol and stared at the scene.

  “Poor little bastard.”