Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Mike shook his head, his thick black mane looking bushier as he forced himself to remain steady. “I got to move around some. I’m going crazy in that bed.” He stood up straight and felt his midsection protest. “I can’t be lying in bed all the time.” He gave her a sweet smile. “I’d get fat.”

  “I’d rather you be fat and alive, you big lug.” She tried to push him back into the bed but he held her hands.

  “Stella, please. Just let me walk around some.”

  She huffed then reached for a thick terry bathrobe. It was threadbare around the elbows and looked like he had found it at Baby GAP, but she forced it around his broad shoulders. “One quick trip, then your butt goes back to bed.”

  He nodded, his face pale. “Deal.”

  She took his elbow and led him toward the door. “The moment you feel weak or light-headed, we’re headed back.”

  He chuckled low in his throat. “Baby, I felt weak and light-headed when I was in bed. I’ll be okay. I promise.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and allowed her to lead him out and into the hallway.

  Vicky looked up from her inventory and opened her mouth to protest. She quickly closed it and got up from her desk, thinking a different approach might be more effective. “So, you must be feeling better.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Just in time, too. I hear the guys are doing some heavy lifting out there and could use your help.”

  Mike snorted a laugh then gripped his abdomen. “Cute, doc.” He gave her a weary look. “I just needed to move around some. Maybe hit the head, grab a bite of some real food?”

  She shook her head. “You’re not ready for solids yet, mister.” Her tone softened and she held the door of the infirmary open for him. “Just be quick. Don’t over-tax yourself and for Heaven’s sake, don’t rip your sutures.”

  Mike gave her a mock salute then stepped into the hallway. “It’s so quiet.”

  Stella directed him toward the main floor of the warehouse. “We got them out, Savage. But Simon slipped away.”

  He nodded slightly, his sweating becoming a bit more profuse. “Figures. He’s a slippery son of a…” He braced his arm against the wall and shook his head. “I think this is far enough for the first trip.” He glanced down at her worried eyes. “Take me back, please.”

  She hurriedly got him turned around and acted as a human crutch while they made the short trip back to the infirmary. Vicky saw them through the glass wall and rushed to open the door. “That was quick. You okay, Mike?”

  He nodded and had to pause at the doorway to catch his breath. “Yeah, doc. Just didn’t want to overdo it the first time.”

  “That’s completely understandable.” She helped him back to the recovery room and pulled his sheet and blanket back.

  Mike collapsed on the bed and gripped the rail with shaky arms. “I just got really weak all of a sudden.”

  “It’s because your body is still in recovery mode.” Vicky lifted his legs and swung them back to the bed. “I’ll see if we can’t get you some liquid protein to help maintain your strength.”

  Mike leaned back on the tilted mattress and nodded weakly at her. “Appreciate it.”

  The two women tucked him in and Vicky pulled Stella out of the room. “Please try to convince him not to do that again. It’s far too soon.”

  Stella gave her ‘that look’. “He doesn’t listen. He’s like an overgrown five year old.”

  Vicky fought back a smile. “Aren’t all men?” She patted her arm as she stepped away. “Just try.”

  Stella sighed heavily then walked back into the recovery room. “What’s it going to take to keep your big, hairy butt in bed?”

  Mike gave her a devilish smile. “Maybe if you stripped down and joined me?”

  She shook her head and pinched his toe. “Not ‘til you’re better.”

  He groaned, then closed his eyes. “I’m working on it.”

  Charles seemed in overly good spirits as he assisted Dr. Broussard in running his tests. Vivian watched him quietly, watching for any signs of relapse.

  The door to the lab burst open and Colonel Vickers stepped in. “Dr. LaRue. A moment.” He motioned outside and she could read from his tone and manner that he wasn’t pleased.

  She set her pen down and stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. “Yes, Colonel?”

  “What the hell is the meaning of this?” He handed her a diagram and she studied it.

  “I have no idea what ‘that’ is.”

  “It’s a…” He paused and flipped through the folder in his hand. “A portable frequency generator.” He flipped the file shut and glared at her.

  “That was Dr.…” She paused to think of Ponytail’s real name, unable to pull it to the front of her mind. “That’s for Dr. Carpenter. To give him more mobility.”

  Vickers’ face twisted into a combination of confusion and outrage. “I haven’t cleared him to go back to work. I don’t see how the man could possibly—” Vivian pointed through the clear glass of the lab’s wall and Vickers’ gaze followed her outstretched hand. “Who authorized—”

  “I did.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “This is still my project. I am still in charge. And I ordered him released.”

  Vickers’ eyes bulged and the vein in his neck looked like it was about to pop. “Just forty-eight hours ago, you were strung out and sleeping off a four day high!” He ground his teeth, his hands shaking as he glared at her. “You most certainly do NOT have the authority to make that call.”

  “When I was brought on out here, I was told by none other than the president himself that this was my baby. Whatever I needed, they would find.” She glared back at the man. “Until you outrank him, I would suggest you change your tone when addressing me.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I’m not out here to have a dick measuring contest with you colonel, I’m out here to find a cure to this disease and try to save the human race. I will use every resource available to me and I will make the tough calls when they need to be made. Do I make myself clear to you, sir?”

  Colonel Vickers’ lower jaw quivered with rage as he glared at her. “Okay, doctor. But if anything goes south, it’s on your head.” He turned to leave then spun back. “And you can bet your ass that I’ll make sure the president knows exactly what you’ve done and the risks you are taking.”

  She crossed her arms again and nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.” She watched him turn and practically stomp away from the lab.

  Vivian walked back into the lab and all but fell into her chair. “What was that all about? You two looked like you were about to come to blows.”

  She turned and gave her colleague a soft smile. “Everything is fine. Colonel Vickers just needed clarification on a call I made.” She glanced at Charles and blew her breath out hard. As her colleague went back to work she muttered, “I really hope it was the right one.”

  Simon cursed and pulled the lifted truck over to the median, the big tires sinking into the soft grass. He beat against the steering wheel and yelled obscenities out of the open window.

  He sat back and his hand instinctively reached for the whisky bottle beside him. He unscrewed the cap and took a long pull, letting the burn calm his nerves.

  “If I was a shithead traitor, which way would I run?” He glanced further down the freeway and knew that the van couldn’t have gotten this far without him catching sight of it.

  He turned in the seat and looked behind him. Nothing.

  He took another pull from the bottle and noted that it was nearly empty. “I need to cut back. Gotta make my stash last longer.”

  He leaned back and sighed, his hand drumming on the steering wheel. “I reckon there’s always the chance that wasn’t one of Squirrel’s new people.” He swayed side to side in the seat, his muddy mind trying to connect possible dots. “It could have been other survivors.”

  He stared through the cracked windshield of the pickup and chuckled to himself. “What better way to i
ntroduce yourself to new friends than to unload some buckshot into them.”

  He took another long pull from the bottle then remembered he wanted to save it. He screwed the lid on and tossed it to the floor board of the truck. “Screw it. Maybe I’ll run into them again one day and either recruit them or finish the job.”

  He turned the steering wheel and drove over the grassy median. He emerged from the shallow depression and felt the truck bounce as it hit the pavement on the other side of the divided highway.

  In Simon’s drunk mind he bounced from idea to idea. What he might do if he encountered another group of people. Why he was still driving on the correct side of the road when there was obviously nobody else on the road. What he’d do if he ran into Sailor or Squirrel again.

  He slowed the truck at the next offramp and stared at the road. With no sign of life, he pushed on. His mind continued to bounce from thought to thought. Maybe he’d make his way back to the tanker and fill up the gas cans like he wanted to before being sidetracked. Maybe he’d go back to those fancy houses and find himself a cushy bed to sleep in.

  Maybe…maybe he’d work his way back to the campground. He could look for signs of his people. Surely, they didn’t all follow those traitors. Maybe there were some still sitting there, waiting for their one true leader to come back to them. Maybe they were…

  Simon slammed on the brakes and watched as another pickup approached his position from the other side of the highway. He smiled to himself and turned the wheel, crossing the grassy median once more, positioning his truck to intercept the other truck.

  Simon killed the engine and stepped out of the pickup, the shotgun cradled in his arms. He stepped into the middle of the road as the pickup slowed and eventually stopped. He could see a large shaggy head through the windshield, but he couldn’t make out features.

  His grip tightened on the shotgun as the truck’s door opened. A large, burly man stepped out, his back turned to Simon. He caught a blur of motion as the man brought a pistol up and pointed it at him. “Don’t you fucking THINK it!”

  Simon stiffened. He knew that voice.

  He stepped forward, the shotgun dropping from his arms and hanging loosely at his side. “Who are you?”

  The ex con peered around the sights of the pistol and stared at his ex-boss. “Simon?”

  “The fuck you are. I’m Simon.”

  He stopped and lifted the shotgun again, this time propping it on his shoulder. He squinted in the late afternoon sun and when the two images came together, he almost recognized the man. He watched the pistol drop to the man’s side and he stepped closer, coming more into focus.

  “Dude, it’s me. Sinner.”

  Simon felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile. He leveled the shotgun on the ex con and his smile turned into a sneer. “You bailed on me, Sinner.”

  “The hell!” He stepped forward, his face a mask of rage. “YOU bailed on all of us. Those freaks hit the camp then the Crazies showed up and you bolted, man. You fucking RAN.”

  Simon shook his head, his memories of that night still cloudy. “No, Sailor and Squirrel, they turned on me. I couldn’t get none of you fuckers to finish them off.”

  “I was on sentry duty. I was clear on the other side of the camp when you got knocked the fuck out.” Sinner closed the gap between the two and shook his head at the smaller man. “You gutted Savage. You got beat down by Squirrel. Then when the shit hits the fan, you RAN.”

  Simon pressed the barrel of the shotgun to Sinner’s chest. “Call it how you see it.” He flicked the safety off of the shotgun and pushed the barrel deeper into the man’s skin. “What are you going to do now, Sinner? That’s my question to you.”

  The ex con stared down at him, his face unwavering. “You’re the boss. You tell me.”

  Simon felt the smile return to his face and he nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He pulled the shotgun back and propped it on his shoulder again. “We’re going to put together an army and we’re gonna show Sailor and Squirrel what happens to traitors.”

  Sinner smiled. “Now that sounds like a plan.”

  13

  Daniel Hatcher paced, checking his watch as he scanned the horizon. “How long has it been?”

  “Hatch, you gotta stop this. You’re making me a nervous wreck.” Candy grabbed him by the shoulders. “I’m sure they’re okay.”

  “We should have just…” He trailed off, not wanting to say the words that popped into his mind.

  “You couldn’t just kill them.” She stood her ground and shook him slightly. “We’re not like that. We’re both law enforcement.”

  He gave her a stern look. “Like law and order means anything now?” He shook his head. “This is a different world now, Candy.”

  “I see something.”

  Hatcher spun and looked where the sentry pointed. He grabbed the binoculars and found the vehicle. It was their van.

  Hatcher sighed and motioned to the sentry. “Get the van locked up and out of sight pronto.”

  The man hit the ladder and slid to the floor below. “Care to join me in welcoming home our heroes?”

  Candy took him by the arm. “I’d love to, sir.”

  The pair wound their way through the interior of the warehouse and waited at the staging area. When the chain link gates were opened, Candy nearly gasped. Hank lead the trio in, his face, neck and upper arms covered in blood.

  “What happened?” She practically tackled him, inspecting his wounds.

  “It’s nothing.” Hank waved her off. “Minor scratches, but they bled like a stuck pig.”

  Hatcher gripped the man’s shoulders and inspected him. “No bites? No scratches?”

  Hank shook his head. “Maybe some buckshot.” He sighed and pointed to the van. “Got ambushed. Some asshole shot the rear window out.”

  “Simon.” Hatcher muttered as he marched toward the other two men. He quickly turned back to Hank. “Check in with Vic. She’ll get you cleaned up.”

  He spun around and looked to Wally and Roger, both unscathed. “What happened?”

  “We got jumped by some trigger happy nut in a brown pickup.” Wally paused and motioned to Roger. “His fancy driving got us the hell out of there.”

  “Was it Simon?”

  Roger shrugged. “Never saw the guy. Just a big brown pickup.”

  Hatcher groaned. “I would think Simon would still be on his bike.”

  Roger nodded. “I would assume so as well.”

  “So, either he’s moved on to something more rugged or there’s another survivor out there that likes to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Roger shrugged again. “My gut says that it’s Simon.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Mine, too.” He paused and watched as the sentry pulled the van around to put into storage. “Jesus. Shotgun?”

  Roger nodded. “That’s what it looked like. Blew a hole through the back window and shattered the rest.”

  “What about the men you were transporting?”

  Roger shook his head. “No harm, no foul.” He paused, not really wanting to admit what he’d done. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  Hatcher turned back to him, curiosity painted across his features. “What’s that?”

  “We, uh…we didn’t make it all the way to Albuquerque.” Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head. “After we got shot at, I took the closest exit to lose the guy. We drove through some residential areas, through some less than populated areas and the whole time the convict was telling me to just pull over and dump them out. Swore that he could find wheels.” Roger swallowed hard, expecting to get chewed out. “The other guys wanted out, too.”

  Hatcher groaned. “So, you dumped them.”

  “We were just a couple of miles from where we planned to drop them off. I just…” Roger sighed. “I’m sorry, Hatch. I wanted to get back before dark.”

  Hatcher nodded and plac
ed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I guess I can’t blame you.” He glanced away, his mind trying to calculate if they were far enough away. “I guess we’ll find out if they show up unexpectedly.”

  “We were far enough in the boonies that unless they just knew this area, I wouldn’t expect them back.” Roger’s shoulders drooped. “If any of them are from around here, we’re screwed.”

  Hatcher nodded. “All the more reason to step up the timeline on the idea I have.”

  “What’s that?”

  He motioned Roger to follow him as he turned for his office. “I have an idea. It’s probably a stupid one, but…” He opened the door to his office and stepped behind his desk, spreading a map out. “If we’re going to truly make it, we can’t keep simply surviving.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “We need to establish a community.” Hatcher hooked his thumb toward the rear of the warehouse. “We have families here. Kids. We need to set up something a bit more permanent.”

  Roger fell into the chair opposite him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Something that we can defend. A place where we can grow food. Fresh water. Power.”

  “Sounds like Heaven.” Roger leaned forward and looked at the map. “But I don’t see a place like that around here.”

  Hatcher sat down and spun the map around. “One of the guys you saved is an engineer. He’s got ideas for power generation. A lot of housing complexes around here have water wells…” He trailed off, hoping Roger could see his vision. “We could set up a community where people could have their own place. We work toward mutual benefit. Not just survival, but prosperity.”

  Roger nodded. “I’m hearing ya.” He glanced up and smiled. “I’m liking the sound of it. But, how do you plan to find a place where the Zulus can’t get in?”

  Hatcher nodded. “That’s the big problem.” He pointed to the map. “There are a couple of housing additions that are gated. Tall fences around the place. Some are stone, others are wrought iron. Either should be defendable.”