Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Each man prepared his weapon and approached the front entrance. Hatcher and Hank stacked on the left, Roger and Wally on the right. Hatcher pushed lightly at the door and it gave slightly. He motioned to Roger who went in low, his weapon panning to the right. Wally fell in behind him, his weapon panning left. Hatcher entered, scanning up and between the two men while Hank covered their rear.

  They entered the main lobby and Roger checked the hallway to the right. He glanced to Hatcher who signaled that he and Hank would clear left. Roger and Wally should clear right.

  The team broke off into pairs and checked the main building, finding no signs of life. When they gathered back at the lobby Hank was shaking his head. “This place is nice.” He kept taking in the décor and the fine woodwork. “Real upscale kind of place.”

  “Any signs of activity?” Hatcher asked.

  Roger glanced about the main room. “It’s like they just got up in the middle of the day and left.” His face was a mask of concern. “Not a single body, blood smear…it was like the end of the world skipped this place. There were still groceries in most of the pantries.”

  Wally shuddered. “You know what they say about something that seems too good to be true.”

  Hatcher nodded, peering out of the rear window. “Looks like we have two more buildings on the grounds to clear.” He looked to the other three. “No time like the present.”

  Vivian stared in wonder while Broussard drew the serum from the vial. He tapped the syringe then glanced to Charles. “Are you certain?”

  Charles nodded, a faint glimmer of hope in his eye. “The science is solid.” He gave Vivian a reassuring smile. “I know. I double-checked his numbers.”

  She placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. “There’s always a risk, Charles. I really think we should find a subject who isn’t…”

  “Important?” His eyes probed hers and she withered. “Viv, mankind is on the endangered species list now. All lives matter.”

  “But with the generator, you still have the potential to be a contributing factor to us finding a real cure.”

  Charles inhaled deeply and blew his breath out slowly. “By the Colonel’s order, I’m confined to this room until your treatment works properly. I think in my current predicament, I can best serve the cause by volunteering for this.” He glanced to Broussard then back to her. “Besides, we’re fairly certain that none of the current subjects carry this mutated strain. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be placated by the generators.”

  She nodded weakly and waved Broussard on. He dabbed the swab on Charles’ arm then injected him slowly. When he withdrew the needle, he sat back and appeared solemn. “It could still be days before we know.”

  Charles looked to Carol. “Please, reinstate the treatment protocols now. I think that having them work synergistically is my best chance.”

  She shook her head. “Until we can be certain that the primordial virus has done its job, there’s no way that—”

  “Please, Carol.” His eyes told her more than his voice ever could.

  She stood up slowly and looked to Dr. LaRue who refused to meet her gaze. “I’ll prepare them now.” She walked out slowly, unsure that this was the right call.

  Charles laid back on the mattress and closed his eyes. “Could we maybe find some real music to listen to? Perhaps Pachelbel? Something from the Baroque period?”

  Vivian stood and noted the time in his chart. “I’ll see what I can find. You may be stuck with Beethoven.”

  “That would be adequate, thank you.”

  She stepped out of the isolation ward and Dr. Broussard watched her go. He sighed heavily then took Charles’ hand. “Why do you not tell them?”

  Charles shook his head. “They need the hope far more than I do right now.”

  Dr. Broussard shook his head. “You have, at best, a forty percent chance of this working.”

  Charles nodded, his eyes cracking open to stare at the man. “That’s better than no chance, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Broussard huffed and pushed away from the bed. “If we had more time…perhaps a better lab…”

  Charles chuckled and shook his head. “You have done an outstanding job considering the circumstances.” He glanced over his shoulder at the doors to the isolation ward then lowered his voice. “But our biggest enemy now is time. If we don’t get this into the environment, allow it to affect the infected…they could all be lost.”

  “And if we only can ‘cure’ forty percent of the infected?”

  Charles sat up and gave him a stern look. “What if one of those forty percent were your family? Or a dear friend? Isn’t it worth trying to save as many as we can?”

  “Of course, but what is to keep the infected from turning on them once they are on the road to recovery?”

  Charles shook his head and laid back down. “We can’t concern ourselves with every possibility. Ours is to develop the answer and attempt to apply it to the afflicted.” He turned a solemn face to his colleague. “Trust me Andre, this is all that we could hope for considering the circumstances.”

  “In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve come to respect your opinion greatly.” He lowered his head and his voice softened. “But I fear you are wrong this time.”

  Charles shrugged slightly. “While we wait for this to work, I need you to find a way to convert Vivian’s treatment into an aerosol or…a powder. Some form that we can use to crop-dust the major cities with. Let the virus work for us for a change. Get the treatment out there in an effective form. Start this process of putting things right again.”

  Broussard wiped at his face as he came to his feet. “I will do this. For you.” He patted the man’s shoulder as he walked past him. “I will also pray for you.”

  Charles listened to him leave the ward and fought the urge to cry. “Thank you. I fear I’ll need all of the help I can get.”

  Sinner slowed the truck and peered into the shadows. “That’s where they dumped us.”

  Simon squinted out of the dirty windshield. “There’s too many places they could have gone.”

  Sinner nodded. “But most of the cars are dead unless you have a fresh battery lying around.” He pointed to the house ahead of them. “I went through a couple dozen before I found a house that had a battery on a workbench, fully charged.” He leaned back in his seat and studied the landscape. “Whoever the schlup was that owned that truck had just installed a new alternator when somebody made him into a Manwich.”

  Simon laughed and unscrewed the top on the liquor bottle. He took another long pull then sat up straighter. “Then we go house to house and see if we can find signs of life.”

  Sinner pulled the truck further along the tree- covered road, relishing the small patches of shade that they provided in the warming sun. his head swiveled as he checked both sides of the road, hoping to see a trail left in the tall patches of grass and weeds. He was about to give up and turn to the next block when Simon’s hand shot out and slapped him across the chest. “Stop!”

  Sinner pulled to the side of the road and tried to peer past Simon. “What is it? You see something?”

  Simon turned to him, an evil grin across his features. He hooked his head to the right. “That adobe house?” He nodded slowly. “The curtain in the front window moved.”

  Sinner shrugged. “Could be wind.”

  Simon raised a brow. “Or it could be one of the fuckheads that got dumped with you.” He reached for the door and hopped out of the lifted truck. He reached back in and pulled his sawed-off shotgun from the floor of the truck. “Don’t just sit there. Come on.”

  Sinner put the truck into park and fell in behind Simon. He shouldered the AR15 until they reached the front of the house.

  Simon kicked open the door and let it bounce against the wall. “Come on out and I won’t kill ya dead.” He called into the darkened house.

  Sinner listened carefully and heard nothing. He was about to tell Simon that he was seeing things when something moved inside, u
psetting a can.

  Sinner shot through the doorway, his rifle held at the hip, ready to spray and pray. He bounced off the wall opposite the door then pressed his back to it tightly. “The man said come out. I’d do it if I were you.”

  He could almost hear the sigh of defeat as one of the men stepped from the darkness. “Don’t shoot.” He held his hands above his head, his pistol dangling from a finger.

  Sinner reached out and pulled the weapon from his grip then pushed him in front of Simon. “Where’s the other shitbags you were with?”

  The man who left because ‘Donna’ didn’t want him any longer shook his head. “We all went our separate ways.”

  Simon pressed the barrel of his shotgun to the man’s head. In a slow, drunken drawl he whispered, “I gotta call bullshit on that one.” He cocked both barrels on the shotgun and pressed harder to the man’s forehead. “I’m looking to put the band back together, so I need those assholes.” He pushed the man’s head back until it was against the sheetrock. “So, I’m going to ask you again…where are they?”

  The man held his hands up, his body shaking as Simon threatened him. “I’m telling ya, we split up.”

  “I taught you fuckers that there’s safety in numbers.” He leaned close, the stench of his whisky breath choking the man. “I know you ain’t that stupid.”

  The man stammered, “O-one of them…he headed in the opposite direction. Said he needed to find his family.” He swallowed hard and tried not to retch at Simon’s breath. “The other…he’s a fuckin’ fruit loop. Said he hated being around people. He took off so fast…” He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a silent prayer. “Don’t shoot me, man.”

  Simon pulled the shotgun back and laughed at him. “I ain’t shooting you.” He grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him up to his feet. “I need you to shoot at those sumbitch locals that dumped you out here.” He turned to Sinner and grinned. “We got one.”

  Sinner grunted as he marched past the pair. “One.” He stepped out of the house and took a deep breath of fresh air. “That ain’t no army.”

  Simon pushed the man out of the door and towards the truck. “It’s a start, man.”

  17

  Hatcher walked the grounds of the assisted living center. His eyes took in everything as he checked the walls, the gates, the fencing…anything that could be exploited in an attack.

  “Whatcha think?” Wally asked.

  Hatcher shrugged. “It could be doable.” He pointed to the stone wall surrounding the place. “They’re definitely tall enough to keep out a small group. Maybe help keep prying eyes from spotting us.” He turned and pointed to the gates. “Those aren’t nearly stout enough to hold off an attack.”

  Wally groaned. “It sounded good in my head, Hatch.”

  Daniel nodded. “And it might still be workable, just with a little effort on our part.”

  Roger shuffled through the yard toward them. “I counted sixty-four.”

  Hatcher made a mental note. “Is that enough rooms for everybody?”

  Roger shrugged. “We have some families that could definitely use more than a one bedroom place, but…”

  “Considering that right now they’re using cardboard boxes and pallets to make walls, I think they’ll appreciate the change.”

  Hank waved them over to the smaller building. “We’ve got the well pump and assorted equipment in here. If your engineer can get us power like he says, then we could be sitting pretty.”

  Hatcher looked out past the walls. “The idea of a hot shower sounds really good, but until we know who or what else is out there, we may have to restrict lights at night.”

  “Makes sense.” Wally climbed onto an air conditioning unit and looked over the wall. “This may sound completely stupid, but…”

  “The only stupid question is the one not asked.” Hatcher replied. “What are you thinking?”

  Wally climbed down and smiled at him. “Well, we have the castle. We have the castle wall…why not a moat around the exterior?”

  Roger looked to Hatcher then back to Wally. “You serious?”

  Wally shrugged. “Why not? It would be one more obstacle for an attacker to deal with.”

  Hatcher laughed and patted his back. “You figure out a way to dig a moat around this place, and it’s all yours, brother.”

  Wally hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a heavy equipment rental place right down the road. It wouldn’t take a whole lot of fuel…”

  Hatcher pointed to the fence. “If we ran razor wire across the top—”

  “Like a prison.” Roger nodded. “I can see that.”

  Hatcher pointed to the two gates. “We need to restrict access to those two points. Create a bottleneck.”

  Hank stepped forward, his eyes squinting at the gateways. “If Wally gets a moat, I think we should install a portcullis at each gate.” He looked to Hatcher. “It worked in medieval days in protecting their castles.”

  Hatcher threw his hands into the air. “Fine. If you two want to make this place a castle, go right ahead.”

  Hank and Wally both uttered, “Sweet.”

  Hatcher turned for the gate. “I’m not saying that this is definitely the place, but we should keep it near the top of the list.”

  Roger fell into step with him. “Want to look at other places now?”

  Hatcher nodded. “Someplace that we could call home.”

  “So…no prisons?”

  Hatcher shook his head. “We want a place that is conducive to living, not just survival.”

  Roger grabbed him by the shoulder, slowing him. “Why don’t we look out in the country? Surely there’s a farm or something out there that is already set up.”

  Hatcher sighed. “I thought of that. And while you’re right, there probably are abandoned farms or ranches, where are we going to put all of the people?” He hooked his thumb back toward the assisted living center. “At least here, there’s plenty of room. We can construct a greenhouse between the two outbuildings and grow more fresh food. We have the start of a defendable wall.” He looked at Wally and Hank planning their moat. “And we have two guys willing to turn it into a modern day castle. What more could you ask for?”

  Roger shrugged. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  Hatcher raised his voice. “Load up, you two. We have a couple more places to scout before nightfall.”

  Charles shivered as his body fought the fever. Carol stood by his bedside and mopped at his brow. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  He gave her a weak smile and tugged the blanket tighter under chin. “Nor did I, yet here I am.” His shoulders and arms ached from the constant shivering and his body ached as the virus fought his immune system.

  Dr. Broussard entered the ward and pressed a gloved hand to Charles’ forehead. “You’re still feverish.”

  Charles nodded slightly, his body protesting with every movement. “I believe 103.4 was the last measurement.”

  Broussard shook his head and gave Charles a knowing look. “This does not look promising.”

  Charles gave him a weak smile. “Sure, it does. It means that the virus is trying to do its thing. My body is just…defending me.”

  Broussard shook his head. “I am about to take a meal. I will check on you when I return.”

  Carol squeezed out the rag and wiped at his brow again. “He’s talking like he doesn’t expect his retrovirus to work.”

  Charles stared at her, his mind racing with whether to entrust her with their conclusions. He took a deep breath and reached up with his bound wrist, taking her hand and pulling her closer. “If I tell you something, you have to swear to me that you will keep it to yourself.”

  She gave him a surprised stare, her head nodding. “What is it?”

  Charles swallowed hard before he began. “Dr. Broussard is concerned because, at best, we have a forty percent chance of success.”

  He watched her eyes widen and she pulled at his grip. “Why would you not wait?
Surely there is something else that could be done to improve those odds?”

  He shook his head. “I fear that we will be lucky to see a third of the infected react positively to the retrovirus.” He gave her another weak smile. “Like HIV, once the population is infected, they will always have this in their system. But with Vivian’s work, they can be live symptom free for…” He shrugged again. “Well, for the rest of their lives.”

  Carol practically fell into her chair and shook her head. “That isn’t good enough, Dr. Carpenter.” She inhaled deeply and fought to keep her chin from quivering as she spoke. “I thought the two of you were working on a way to eradicate the virus.”

  “Once he analyzed the nucleotides, he was certain. It can’t be eradicated, but it can be neutered, so to speak.” He coughed lightly and cleared his throat. “The only way to kill the virus is to kill the host.” Carol shook her head. “What about Vivian’s research on the woman’s blood that was immune? Surely she can find a way to—”

  He squeezed her hand and shook his head. “It is a genetic mutation, not a cure. She hasn’t announced her findings to keep the researchers from losing hope.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, “You cannot say a word to the others. They need to have hope if they are to continue working. Perhaps one day we will see the virus defeated but as of now, the best…possibly the last, virologist in the world sees no way to rid our species of this curse.”

  She sat back and fought the urge to cry. “So, the best we can hope for is to all be carriers of the disease?”

  He shrugged. “For now.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Do not be discouraged though. Remember, geneticists have thought for years that our mitochondria is the result of a viral infection. If it weren’t for some happenstance infection millennia ago, we wouldn’t have the symbiotic relationship that we have now and our cells would require a completely different form of energy.”