Caldera 5_United We Fall

by Heath Stallcup

  Sinner crossed his large arms over his chest and gave Simon a go-to-hell look. “That was different.”

  “So maybe it was different for Stinky…are we calling him Stinky? I kind of liked Stupid.”

  Sinner shook his head. “Stinky.”

  “Fine.” Simon took another long pull from the scotch and sighed heavily. “Either way, I gave the little shit his pistol back and he didn’t try to shoot either of us, now did he?”

  “Yeah, that was stupid, too.”

  Simon smiled and reached in his pocket. “Ain’t shooting shit without these.” He dropped the 9MM cartridges on the floor. He started chuckling as he imagined Stinky pulling the gun on them. “It would have been a shame to have to kill him.”

  Simon rolled his eyes and turned back to the window. “You take too many chances.”

  “You have to take chances in this new and exciting world, Sinner.” He took another long pull and felt the burn in his belly. “If you ain’t taking chances, you’re dying inside.”

  Stinky emerged from the bathroom wiping dirt and grit from his body with a rag. “There’s some water but the pressure is shit.” He motioned back to the bathroom. “These soap and deodorant in there if anybody wants to…” he trailed off, the sour looks he received telling him exactly what they thought. “Right. Well…I’m gonna finish cleaning up.”

  “Don’t forget to wipe that—”

  “I HEARD you the first time.” Stinky slammed the door behind him.

  Simon raised a brow and hold the bottle up in toast. “I’m surprised the Crazies ain’t already found us the way you two are screaming and slamming shit around here.” He slid off the arm of the loveseat and onto the cushion. His eyes fell on the shooter again and he bent over, pouring some of the scotch into the man’s mouth.

  A cough and a sputter later, the injured man was sitting up, his eyes wide and his body trembling. “W-where am I?”

  Simon gave him his best evil smile. “Why, you’re home, son.” He took another drink from the scotch and held his arms out. “Come to pappy.”

  19

  “Razor wire?” Candy rubbed at her neck and tried to think of any source available. “Maybe at the detention center. I think they wrapped the top of the yard with razor wire about a year ago? Maybe.”

  Hatcher looked to Wally and Hank. “Think you fellas could take a look tomorrow?”

  Hank nodded and Wally winced. “That stuff will eat us alive, Hatch. There’s no such thing as a safe way to handle it.” He shook his head slowly. “There’s a reason they use it at prisons.”

  Hatcher sighed and sat back. “There has to be a way that we can secure the top of that wall.”

  “What’s wrong with barbed wire?” Candy asked.

  “It’s not nearly as effective as razor wire.” Hatcher rubbed at his chin. “I just want to make that wall as big a deterrent as possible. If we hope to ever sleep at night, we’ll need all of the security we can get.”

  “Do you really think that the Zulus would keep fighting if they got trapped in barbed wire rather than razor wire? Do they even feel pain?” Hank asked.

  “I’m thinking more about humans than Zulus.” He eyed them each carefully. “If not Simon, there are surely other crazy people out there that are just as dangerous.”

  Roger nodded slowly. “So, we go with the spikes and the barbed wire.” He shrugged. “It beats nothing and I know I wouldn’t want to have to try to cross something like that.”

  “And if we built that moat we talked about…” Hank trailed off, a wide smile forming.

  “Wait…what’s this about a moat?” Candy asked, staring at him. “Who said anything about a moat?”

  Hank nodded excitedly. “Hatch said if me and Wally wanted to dig a moat, we could. I’m thinking alligators.”

  “The hell you are.” She spun and thrust a finger in Hatcher’s face. “Tell me you were just kidding.”

  Hatcher shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about ‘gators.”

  “A moat?” She shook her head and turned away from the men. “I’m living with a bunch of five-year-old boys.”

  Roger slung an arm lazily over Hank’s shoulders. “She didn’t mean it.”

  Hank nodded. “Sure, she did.” He turned and smiled. “But I don’t care. I’m putting in a moat.”

  “Don’t forget the portcullis.” Wally winked at him.

  “Oh yeah. Definitely a portcullis.” Hank sauntered away, dreams of a modern day castle growing in his mind.

  Broussard swiveled nervously in his chair as he kept a constant vigil over Charles. Vivian quietly entered the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. “How is he?”

  “His fever still returns but it is low grade. Barely 99.5 but still…” he trailed off.

  “I hate to ask you this but I really need your help.”

  He turned tired eyes to her. “With what?”

  “You had said that you thought you could convert our treatment into an aerosol or some form that we could treat large areas?” She squatted beside him and took his hand in hers. “I really need you to work on that.”

  Broussard glanced at Charles and was about to shake his head. “He really needs—”

  “I’ll watch him.” She came to her feet and nodded at the man. “I’ll stay right here. Anything he needs, I’ll take care of it personally.”

  Broussard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Very well.” He stood slowly, his body protesting as he came to his feet. “I will work on your delivery method.” He stared at Charles for a moment. “If this doesn’t work, you should have the generator standing by again. He will need it.”

  Vivian nodded. “We can only hope that whatever mutated version he has isn’t the new norm out there.”

  Broussard nodded his agreement then stepped out in to the lab. He squinted at the bright lights then went to his workstation. Vivian watched him for a moment then reached for the wet rag. She squeezed it out in the basin and wiped at his brow. “Why you, Charles?” She dabbed at his exposed skin and watched as gooseflesh formed.

  She leaned back and held the rag in her hands, nervously wringing it. “The test subject that scratched you appears normal even still. If he infected you, shouldn’t you have the same mutation as his?”

  She dipped the rag in the water again and wrung it out. When she turned back to him, he was staring at her with wide eyes.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” She stood and leaned over him. “How are you feeling?”

  He closed his eyes again and shook his head slightly. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

  She pressed her gloved hand to his forehead. “You still feel a little warm, but at least your temperature is down.”

  He nodded slightly then cracked his eyes open. “Is it really bright in here?”

  She shook her head. “The lights are all off. The only light is from the lab.”

  “It’s too bright.” He reached up to cover his eyes and noticed that his arms were still restrained. He groaned as he lowered them again.

  “Do you need something?”

  “Could you cover my eyes with that wet rag? My head is really starting to hurt.”

  She dipped it in the basin again and wrung it out. “Of course. Hold on a moment.” She shook the remaining drops from the rag then laid it gently across his eyes and forehead. “Better?”

  He nodded. “Did you ever find any Pachelbel?”

  She smiled at him. “I have Beethoven.”

  He sighed dramatically. “You’d think you’d make an exception for a dying man.”

  She chuckled as she stood and went to the CD player. “You’re not dying.” She turned on the music and set the volume low. “In fact, I would think that you’re on the mend if you’re making jokes.”

  “I don’t feel like I’m making jokes.” He groaned as he tried to shift his weight on the bed. “I really hurt everywhere.”

  “That’s understandable. You’re fighting a pretty nasty virus.” She reached for a different r
ag and dipped it in the basin.

  “I heard what you said.” He coughed lightly and groaned as his headache spiked. “About the fellow who scratched me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have a theory. Unfortunately, there’s no way to safely test it.”

  She sat down and swabbed at his arms. “So, enlighten me.”

  He took a deep breath and began. “If the virus he carried was about to mutate, for whatever reason…maybe it was just time or maybe it somehow knew that there was a treatment that would force it dormant…who knows. But if his scratch had just one of the mutated variants, that’s really all it would take.”

  “Then why didn’t he respond the same as you?”

  Charles shook his head. “I can only guess that it was the beginning stages of mutation and the predominant variant was the treatable kind.” He shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”

  “Well, whatever happened, we know that the treatment didn’t work on that particular mutation.”

  “And I’m sure that either Carol or Broussard has told you about the odds of this working.”

  Vivian paused and stared at him. “No, actually, they hadn’t.”

  Charles seemed to stiffen.

  “Oops.”

  Vivian raised a brow at him. “Oops? Seriously, that’s all you can…” She trailed off, forcing her temper back under control. “Please, enlighten me once more.”

  Charles tried to peer at her from under the rag. “We have a fifty-fifty chance that it won’t work.” He sighed heavily. “I’m guessing that with these results, we fell on the fifty percent chance of it not working.”

  Vivian set the rag down and bit her tongue. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell. She wanted to beat him for attempting this when the odds were so low. She wanted to rip Ponytail’s hair out in one big chunk. She wanted to gouge out Broussard’s eyes and stomp on them.

  Instead she took a deep breath and counted to ten. “And Carol knew?”

  “I swore her to secrecy so don’t you dare take it out on her.” He flipped his head to the side to drop the rag from his eyes. “I mean it Viv. This was all on me.”

  She stood up and nodded. “Okay, Charles. I won’t kick either of them out of the lab for withholding vital information from me.” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m supposed to be the lead scientist here. Don’t you think that’s something I should know? Especially before one of my colleagues TESTS it?”

  “Okay. I just made a mental note to give you all of the facts before volunteering myself for another procedure.” He cracked an eye open and looked at her. “But know this…even with the odds what they were, I’d still have volunteered. Broussard is convinced that the best we can hope for is a thirty percent cure rate.” He paused and shook his head. “Actually, that isn’t accurate either. It’s not a cure. It just reverts the subject to—”

  “I know what it’s supposed to do, Charles.” She sighed heavily then reached out and took his hand. “And truth be told, if you had come to me and told me all of that…I probably would have signed off on it.”

  He nodded weakly. “I know you would. You’re as desperate as I am to find a working treatment.”

  She sat back down and rested her head on the mattress. “What are we going to do, Charles? They’re saying that ninety percent or more of the population is infected. If we only save half…or less…what’s to become of the human race?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know Viv. But I do know that we have to try. With fewer than ten percent of the population still alive? That truly is an extinction level event.”

  “Just let me go, man. I don’t want any trouble.” Shooter pleaded with the men.

  Sinner shook his head. “Simon wants you, he’s got you.”

  “But I don’t want to be here, man. I just want to be left alone.”

  “You don’t get it man. Simon done named you. That means you’re his. He owns you.”

  Shooter groaned and slid to the floor. “This isn’t right. I was finally free…”

  “Fuck free.” Sinner turned and glared at him. “Have you seen what those crazy mothers do to people? They EAT them. Like ALL of them. To the bone. While they’re still alive.” He grabbed Shooter by the shirt front and lifted him up from the floor. “Is that really what you want?”

  “I-I can avoid them, man. I did it before, I can do it again.”

  Stinky walked into the living room and plopped onto the couch. “What are you ladies talking about?”

  “Shooter here wants me to let him go.”

  Stinky laughed and laid back on the couch. “Yeah, Simon would cut your nuts off if you did.” He leaned forward and pointed at Shooter. “Then he’d hunt you down and gut you just to watch you trip on your own intestines. He’s good that way.”

  “Come on man. He doesn’t need to know it was you. I won’t tell him.” He glanced over his shoulder to the room where Simon slept. “He’s passed out drunk. He’d have no clue what really happened.”

  “Shut up.” Sinner turned his back on him and continued to stare out the window.

  “The hell, man? You never sleep?” Stinky yawned and stretched out further on the couch.

  “When the sun comes up, I sleep until Simon wakes.”

  Stinky shook his head. “Nobody knows we’re here man. Lay your ass down and get some shut eye.”

  Sinner shook his head. “They’re out there.” He leaned to the side and stared at the shadows spread across the quiet street by the moonlight. “They may not be here, but they’re out there.”

  “You sound like a kid, man. Scared of ghosts and goblins hiding under the bed.” Sinner clenched his fists and continued to stare out of the window. “Seriously man, you’re fretting over nothing.”

  Sinner turned and glared at him. “Want me to toss your stinky ass out there so you can find out?” He smiled at him and it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m betting they could smell you a mile away.”

  Stinky sat up and glared back. “Screw you man. I cleaned up. I put on fresh clothes. I even put on deodorant.”

  “You still smell like shit.”

  “Coming from the guy who bathes once a month whether he needs it or not. That’s rich.”

  “Jeezus Christ!” Shooter came to his feet, screaming. “Will you two please just shut the fuck up!” He slammed his fist into the wall. “You wonder why I don’t like people? Well, this is just one more reason. You two fight like an old married couple and I can’t fucking take it!”

  Sinner turned and pointed a thick, tattooed finger at the man. “Scream like that just one more again and I’ll cut your damned tongue out.” He stepped toward him and jabbed his finger into his chest for emphasis. “Test me, motherfu—”

  A blood curdling scream echoed between the single family dwellings and all three men froze, their eyes growing wide.

  Stinky sat up on the couch and stared at the window. “Oh, shit…”

  20

  “Anything is doable. With the right tools, equipment, supplies, time and money, anything can be done.” The engineer handed Hatcher his growing list of supplies. “The real question is how soon and how many people can you devote to the project.”

  Hatcher rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin. “How many would you need to do it in a matter of days?”

  Will Stanton had overseen a lot of public projects, most funded by government money and built by contractors who got a bonus if the project came in on time and under budget. He was used to time crunches but this was more than a time crunch. He eyed Hatcher carefully. “You can get these items? They’re handy?”

  Hatcher went through the list once more. “The solar panels are in the next building. I can’t be positive about the deep cycle batteries or the.”

  “Those are pretty key items. Unless you only want the well pumps to work at night.”

  Hatcher glanced around the warehouse, looking for somebody who could lead an expedition to locate the needed supplies. “Where would you suggest we look?”<
br />
  Will thought for a moment. “The solar panels next door…are they in use or…”

  Hatcher nodded. “Some are. The rest are inside, still boxed up.”

  Stanton glanced out of the staging area. “Did they manufacture them over there?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “It’s actually a cabinet shop. But, all I know is we stole two of them and use them here to power the chargers for the radios and the like. Pretty low loads.”

  Will tugged at his arm. “Let’s take a look. If they were using solar panels, odds are they’ll have the inverter and possibly the batteries as well. If they were going off grid, there’s a good possibility they’ll have everything else.”

  Hatcher and Stanton crossed the staging area and exited the side gate to cross the parking area. “You’re pretty confident they’ll have some of this?”

  Stanton nodded. “If they were planning to use the panels, yes. They’ll at least have one inverter. We might even be able to scavenge the cabling as well.”

  Hatcher pulled the overhead door open and the pair stepped into the darkness. “Show me where they were.”

  Hatcher pointed up. “They were on the roof. I had a couple of guys swipe them one day.”

  Stanton looked up into the rafters. “Did they notice the cabling?” Hatcher gave him a confused look. “I mean, did they notice…nevermind. If you weren’t there with them then odds are you wouldn’t know.” The pair stepped into the office of the cabinet shop and Will reached out to flip the wall switch.

  Nothing happened.

  “I take it they took all of what was installed?”

  Hatcher nodded. “There were three up there but they lost their grip on the first one. It’s in pieces behind the shop.”

  Stanton used the flashlight and walked through the shop. “If they were planning to switch their operation to a fully solar one…” He trailed off as he worked his way to the rear of the shop.

  “What?”

  “Oh, they’d need more than three panels.”

  “There are more in the loading dock. They’re still boxed up.”