Caldera 9: From The Ashes

by Stallcup, Heath

  “Of course he did,” Hatcher groaned. “Knowing Simon, he had a bunch of them.”

  The old man met his gaze and nodded. “He ‘coupled’ with most of them.” He shook his head as if to shake the memories from his mind. “Most of them ran off as soon as they could remember.”

  “Remember?” Hatcher asked.

  The old man nodded. “Lately, we’ve all been getting these memories back. Like light flashes in your brain.” He struggled to put his thoughts into words. “It was like god was letting us see little bits and pieces of our old lives.” He looked up at Hatcher. “You know. Before.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Go on.”

  “Anyways, the women, they remembered things first. And they got real anxious when they remembered. Then next thing you know, they’d disappear.”

  Hatcher looked to Buck. “Like the woman that me and Roger ran into.”

  The old man twisted the cap back onto the bottle. “That Simon…he was evil. You could just see it in his eyes.” He sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. “The only good thing that man did was feed us.”

  “He fed you?”

  He nodded as he pushed himself up in the seat. “We were starving out there. We’d run out of…people.” He averted his eyes and refused to face the other men. “Simon killed our leader and brought us here. He knew how to open the food.”

  “Son of a…” Hatcher trailed off.

  “It didn’t taste right at first, but we were so hungry.” He finally looked up and tears were streaming down his cheeks. “Do you think God will ever forgive us for what we did?”

  “No,” Hank stated from behind Hatcher.

  Hatcher glared at him again then turned back to the old man. “I think god knows that it wasn’t your nature to hurt others. It was the virus.”

  The old man turned away and formed a thousand yard stare through the windshield. Hatcher stepped away and shut the door. He turned to Hank. “Go back. Me and Buck will take him around and see if he recognizes his house.”

  “And if he don’t?” Hank asked.

  Hatcher couldn’t help himself. “Then I guess you’ll get a new roommate.”

  Carol packed the last of her notes into the cardboard box then handed it to Dr. Miller. “I think that’s it.”

  As the group made towards the exit, Miller nodded back to Kelly. “What about her? Are you really going to just leave her here?”

  Carol snorted. “Something tells me that she’s a survivor. She’ll be just fine.”

  The group made their way down the stairs and back out to the campus grounds. Carol refused to look back at the windows just in case Kelly was watching them.

  She followed the soldiers as they led back to the chopper, weapons at the ready. She nearly ran into the back of a soldier that had stopped in front of her. “Contact!”

  She looked over his shoulder and saw a half dozen people cresting a short rise near the chopper. The pilot radioed the ground troops at the same time they were spotted.

  “Don’t shoot!” Carol yelled. “If they’re out in the sunlight, they’re not infected.”

  The team leader clenched his jaw as he began his slow approach. “Stand back!” he barked. “We will shoot!”

  “Do as he says!” Carol yelled. “Just move away.”

  She could hear their anguished cries as they got closer. They begged for food and water. Some just cried for help, and Carol felt her heart break. “Is there nothing we can do for them?”

  “That’s not the mission!” the team leader stated.

  Miller stepped out of formation and jogged past the other soldiers. “A little compassion won’t kill us!” He slowed as he approached the people. They kept their distance as he closed in on them, some afraid of what the armed soldiers might do, others simply untrusting.

  “Hold on a moment. We might have something on the chopper.” Miller trotted past them and pulled the door open. He leaned inside and yelled at the pilot. “Are there any rations in here?”

  The pilot nodded toward the rear bulkhead. “Emergency rations are under the rear seats.”

  Miller fished around and slid out a metal container. He flipped open the lid and dumped out the MREs. He stacked them in his arms then walked back out to the people. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see any water.”

  Carol ran up beside him and helped him hand out the packets of food. “I know they taste horrible, but it beats nothing. Calories are calories.”

  One woman gripped her hand as she took the MRE. “Bless you, child.”

  “I wish we could do more.”

  Broussard appeared at her side. “I think our cure worked.” He beamed at her.

  “Contact!” a soldier shouted. A man came running at them, his eyes wild and what looked like blood covering the front of his shirt.

  A cacophony of shots echoed between the buildings as they dropped the man. Carol nearly jumped out of her skin and began to tremble as Broussard ushered her onto the craft.

  “Is that what Kevin…” she trailed off.

  Broussard nodded as he reached across her and strapped her into the seat. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Dear god.” She leaned back in her seat and didn’t notice the others, who had run for their lives, fearful of the soldiers and their weapons.

  Miller appeared across from her and set the cardboard box at her feet. “It’s okay. We’re leaving now.”

  Carol swallowed hard and peered through the window. She could see the body sprawled on the grass, a bloody trail under him where he’d slid down the embankment. “Just get me away from here.”

  Simon led Lana away from the grocery store, doing his best to keep them hidden in the shadows and out of sight of any who might be out driving. To her credit, she said nothing as the pair wove across open yards and through abandoned houses.

  They ended up coming out on a street lined with small businesses, and Simon’s eyes settled on a liquor store. He licked his lips at the idea of the treasures within.

  Lana pulled him back and away, her head shaking at him. “You don’t need what’s in there.”

  “But my arm…”

  “Will heal faster if you steer clear of that stuff.” She gave him a look that he couldn’t read.

  “But…” Simon swallowed hard, his desire starting to override his common sense. “I really need a drink right about now.”

  Lana pulled him close and cupped his face in her hands. “New beginnings, remember?”

  Simon stared into her eyes and for a moment, he didn’t feel the need to drink. He nodded slightly then realized how dry his mouth was. “I could really use a drink though.” She raised a brow at him. He cleared his throat and clarified. “Of water?”

  She chuckled and tugged his good arm. “We’ll find you a drink.”

  “Scotch and soda, hold the soda,” he joked.

  She paused and turned to face him again. “Remember when I told you about my past?” He nodded slightly, not sure he wanted her to go there again. “I’d guess that ninety percent of the ‘trouble’ in my troubled past was alcohol-based. So, if it’s all the same, I’d prefer you avoided it.”

  He nodded at her, wishing he could erase the pain she’d dealt with. “I’ll do my best.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “But in truth, I haven’t been sober much. You might not like me sober.”

  She gave him a lopsided smile. “I think I’ll like you a helluva lot better sober.”

  Simon inhaled deeply and took a last, longing glance at the liquor store. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  15

  Buck drove slowly through the residential areas while Hatcher and the old man looked for a house with a blue door. “Do you remember if there was a fence, or…” Buck asked.

  The old man slowly shook his head, his eyes squinting in the light. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t.” He scanned both sides of the street as they went.

  “Eduardo, I don’t guess you remember a last name do you? Maybe we could find a phone book and search for an address,” H
atcher asked hopefully.

  The old man shook his head. “I’m not even certain that’s my name.” He glanced to the rear seat and gave Hatcher sad eyes. “The name comes to mind, but it doesn’t exactly feel like mine.”

  “Maybe Eduardo was your neighbor? A brother? Maybe a son?” Hatcher threw out guesses hoping to trigger the old man’s memory.

  He continued to shake his head. “No bells are ringing.” He sighed as he slumped in the seat. “Hell, that could have been my dogs name for all I…” He trailed off, his head turning as they drove by a small house. “Wait.” He slapped at the side of the truck. “Stop!”

  Buck hit the brakes and the old man was opening the door and stepping out before it came to a complete stop. He walked slowly toward a house and Hatcher appeared by his side. “It doesn’t have a blue door, Ed.”

  The old man stood in the driveway and cocked his head to the side. “Mathew?”

  “Mathew? Is that your name?” Hatcher asked as Buck pulled the truck into the driveway.

  The old man shrugged again. “I know this house.”

  Buck opened the mailbox and pulled out the dried and brittle envelopes. “Mathew Rainey?”

  The old man slowly nodded. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

  “But is that you?” Hatcher asked.

  The old man slowly walked to the front of the house and reached for the doorknob. He paused and turned back to the two men. “I can’t do it.”

  “Who is Mathew Rainey?” Buck asked.

  Hatcher stepped past him and opened the door. “It’s unlocked.” He poked his head into the dark house and called out. “Anybody here?”

  He didn’t hear any screams or hoots, so he pushed the door open completely, washing the entryway with light. Buck appeared beside him, shotgun at the ready. “I’ll clear right.”

  Hatcher reached for the pistol on his hip and slipped to the left. They went room by room, clearing each as they went. When they met back at the front door, the old man was standing in the living room. He was staring at a picture on the wall.

  “Who’s that?” Buck asked.

  “I think that was my son.” He reached for the photo with trembling hands and removed it from the wall. He brushed a finger across the young man’s face then clutched it to his chest. “My granddaughter lived here, too.”

  He practically fell to the couch and sobbed. Hatcher rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you remembering now?”

  The old man nodded then set the photo aside. “Mattie and Darla lived here.” He looked up at Hatcher with red eyes. “Their daughter was Holly.”

  “Do you remember your name?” Buck asked softly.

  The old man nodded. “Nick.” He came to his feet and wiped at his eyes. “Nicolas Rainey.” He turned slowly and took a deep breath. “My wife’s name was Doris.”

  “Do you remember where you lived, Nick?” Hatcher asked.

  The old man nodded. “Four blocks that way.” He pointed out the front door. “Mattie was thrilled that he’d found a house so close to home.”

  Hatcher held a hand out to him. “Let’s get you home. At least get you some clothes.”

  The old man allowed them to lead him to the front door then he turned and took a long look at his son’s home. “Do you think they made it?”

  Hatcher sighed heavily and gave him a shrug. “I honestly don’t know, Nick.”

  Buck pulled the door closed as they walked back out to the truck.

  Carol cried into her shoulder for the better part of the trip. Dr. Broussard patted her arm in solace. She turned and looked up at him. “What good is a cure if we can’t help them after they transition?”

  “There are plenty of untapped resources out there still.” He pointed out to the cityscape zipping past the windows. “There are a lot of places people can get food, clothing, water…first things first, chéri.”

  She did her best to compose herself and swiped at her cheeks. She sat up and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That’s so unprofessional of me.”

  “You are human. You can’t help but feel their pain.”

  She looked up at him again. “How many do you think are like that man? Like Kevin was?”

  Broussard sighed and sat back in his seat. “I wouldn’t hazard a guess.” He glanced to Miller. “How many would you estimate?”

  Miller shrugged. “Maybe one in a hundred? One in a thousand? If the ratio is anything like what we detected in the vats themselves, then it could be even more rare.”

  “Believe me, chéri, I had no idea that the treatment was capable of mutating. Especially so quickly.”

  “You said that it acts like a frontal lobotomy?”

  Broussard shrugged. “The symptoms, not the actual infection.”

  “So it would alter their personalities?”

  Miller sat forward, “Or their perception of reality. We really aren’t certain.”

  “But you’re positive that Kevin had this mutated form?”

  Broussard closed his eyes and nodded. “We recorded his behavior. You can go through the journals when you are ready.”

  She sat back and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d rather not see what I did to him.”

  “We,” Broussard corrected. “You weren’t alone in that action.”

  She set her jaw and shook her head. “It was all me, Andre. You know it and I know it.” She turned to Miller and squared her shoulders. “I was the one who exposed Dr. McAlester to the cure.”

  Miller nodded gently. “I’m not judging.” He set back and gave her a soft smile. “Rather than beat yourself up over this, you should be proud. You two saved the vast majority of humanity.”

  “What’s left of it, you mean,” Broussard whispered. He nodded toward the window. “The few who are left don’t look like they will survive long without assistance.”

  “I’ll speak to General Vickers and the president about that very thing once we return.” Miller crossed his arms over his chest and gave the pair a broad smile. “Overall, I’m quite pleased with how this trip turned out.”

  Broussard raised a brow at him. “We didn’t get the field data we were hoping for.”

  Miller nodded toward Carol. “Of course we did. And we got blood and tissue samples.”

  Broussard glanced at Carol then back at Miller. “Do you think it’s enough to create a field test?”

  Miller shook his head. “I think what we witnessed is enough of a field test.”

  Broussard shook his head. “Remember the test subject, Kelly? If we hadn’t seen the DNA profile, we’d not suspect that she was exposed to the variant.”

  “True, but she wasn’t exactly frothing at the mouth and trying to eat us either, now was she?” Miller smiled at him. “I think the need for a field test has just proven itself unnecessary.”

  Simon grunted as he fought with the warm bottle of water. “I can’t.” He handed it to Lana and wished he could turn water into wine.

  “Your arm hurting?”

  “Like a bitch.” He accepted the bottle from her and sucked down nearly half of it before stopping to cough. “I’d kill for a good pain pill right about now.”

  Lana dug in her pants pocket and pulled out a pair of the hydrocodones. “I may have palmed a few before we left.”

  Simon chuckled as he took the pills from her. “I could kiss you.”

  She feigned a blush. “Little ol’ me?”

  He washed the pain killers down with the last of the water and gave her a worried look. “How many more have you got hidden on you?”

  She gave him an impish grin. “Want to strip search me?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I really do. But seriously…”

  She slipped her hand into her pocket again and pulled out four more tablets. “Not enough.”

  Simon groaned as he leaned under the shade tree. “I don’t want to risk going back.”

  “Then we find another pharmacy.”

  He glanced at her shaved head and noted that her skin was turning pink. “I
think we need to either get you some serious sunscreen or a hat.”

  She laid her hand flat on top of her head then hissed lightly. “Yeah. It’s tender.”

  “Give it a few days and you’ll think you have dandruff from hell.” He pushed off the tree and looked up and down the street. “I don’t see a pharmacy, but…hold on.” He walked briskly to the five & dime store and slipped through the broken glass of the front door.

  She waited under the tree for him and after a few moments he reappeared with a large, floppy sun hat. She snorted as he handed it to her. “So, let me get this straight. You have me dress goth and paint my lips purple but you bring me a bright yellow sun hat?”

  He shrugged. “It was that or pink.”

  “Oh, definitely yellow then.” She slipped it onto her head and hissed again as the material scratched at her sunburned skin. “Yeah, that’s gonna hurt like hell later.”

  “We’ll find you some aloe.” He turned and extended his hand to her. “We’re off to see the Wizard.”

  “Oh god,” she groaned. “I never would have pegged you as an Oz fan.”

  He shook his head at her, his eyes wide. “Oh, hell no. That was the first movie that scared the shit out of me as a kid.” They walked hand in hand along the sidewalk. “Those flying monkeys gave me nightmares.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head again. “No joke. I was like four or five, and those flying hairball demons scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  She snorted. “I never would have guessed.”

  “It’s not exactly something you put on a dating profile.”

  She stopped and pointed across the street. “Drug store.” She pulled at him. “Come on.”

  He followed her across the street and she cupped her hands to the glass. “It doesn’t look raided.”

  “Thank god.” He searched the ground for a rock or something to throw through the window.

  Lana reached out and pulled the sliding door open. “Not locked.”

  Simon shook his head as he walked in behind her, the stuffy air hitting them like a wall of stale. “In and out, okay?”