Buck shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, I’m just telling you what happened.” He winced as he touched the lump on the back of his head. “Yeah, he cold-cocked me, but he had a point. He didn’t actually ‘hit’ any of us when he was shooting.”
“You said his arm was in a sling,” Roger smirked. “I can tell you that I probably couldn’t shoot for shit with this on.”
“Maybe,” Buck shrugged. “Maybe not.”
Hatcher crossed his arms and gave them both a tight-lipped glare. “I don’t care if he’s Saint Teresa. He’s burned his options, as far as I’m concerned. If we run across Simon again, we smoke him.” He turned and gave Buck a hard look. “Understood?”
Buck nodded slowly, his face unreadable. “Understood.”
“I still like that area for relocating. It’s got a solid wall around it, and Will said it wouldn’t take as much resources as we thought to enclose the front.”
“What about water?” Roger asked.
“We didn’t get that far. Will was going to check if any of the houses were on a well or if it was all city water when Simon popped his ugly mug up.” Hatcher sipped his coffee and glanced at Buck. “We’re going back out there, if you feel up to it.”
Buck pushed off the table and shook his head. “I’m gonna hang back and try to keep Les under control. She’s pretty freaked about what happened.”
“No one could blame her,” Hatcher stated. “I told you not to run off.”
Buck nodded at the unsaid “toldjaso” then said, “Anyway, I’m gonna have to put in extra time with her to keep her from flipping out.” He glanced at Hatcher. “Next time, though.”
“Okay. We all have something to do. I suggest we get to it.” Hatcher dumped the last of his coffee into the wilting houseplant and stepped away from his desk. “We leave in ten.”
Andre flipped through the different files for each of the CDC staff. “No wonder these people survived.” He tossed the last file into a pile. “They’re not infectious disease specialists, virologists, or even geneticists.”
Carol rolled over on the narrow cot and reached to the folding table that held their dossiers. “What are they, then?”
Broussard referred to his notebook. “We have a hematologist, general biologists or chemists, and two social engineers.” He scoffed. “Why in the world would the CDC need social engineers?”
Carol sighed and tossed the folders back onto the table. “I felt underqualified working with you, but this list makes me look like an expert.” She glanced at him. “Why would you say ‘no wonder they survived,’ though?”
“Because they would have no business being around the infected or their tissue samples.” He sat back and huffed. “The closest thing we have to a colleague would be Higgins, and that man makes my skin crawl.”
She sat up and sifted through the files. “This one and Higgins.” She tossed him the folder.
“Who’s this?” He scanned through the contents than gave her a confused look. “She’s just a biologist.”
“Yeah, but I like her eyes.” Carol leaned back and wiped at her face. “If she’s as kind as she looks in the photo, maybe we can eventually milk her for information.”
Broussard raised a brow at her. “What kind of information?”
“Like a back door, a hidden escape tunnel.” She shrugged as she slowly came to her feet. “Surely there’s a secret way out of here.”
He shook his head. “This is a fortress designed to keep people inside after a nuclear blast. I doubt they have a secret exit.”
“You never know.” She stretched and looked longingly at the mattress. “I was thinking of trying to push my bed in here so we could bunk together, but it’s bolted to the floor.”
He gave her a knowing grin. “We’re being threatened with our lives and you’re thinking of ways we could…” He wagged his brows at her. “Hanky and panky?”
She snorted. “I was thinking that if we’re going to wake up each morning wondering if that is the day we’ll be killed, it would be nice to wake up in your arms.”
Andre felt his cheeks flush and he couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That does sound nice.” He stood and pulled her close. “We’ll figure that out later.” He kissed the top of her head then pulled open the door to his room. “For now, get some rest. Morning will be here soon enough.”
Carol trudged back to her room and barely had the energy to drag her bag off of the bunk. She fell onto the thin mattress and rolled to her side, tucking her arm under the pillow. “Fix the Veep or die.” She yawned. “Yeah, no pressure there.”
Simon dragged himself out of the tiny sports car and stretched. His arm throbbed and he fished in his pocket for a pain pill. Lana appeared at his side and handed him two. “I never thought of myself as the ‘camping’ type.”
Simon washed down the pills then snorted. “This? This ain’t camping. This is ‘glamping.’”
Lana raised a brow at him. “Say again?”
“Glamour camping.” He nodded toward the larger RVs. “Satellite TV, whirlpool tubs, wetbar, full kitchen…glamping, baby.”
“If I can step out my front door and it’s the middle of the woods, it’s plain old camping. So, it’s a home on wheels. Who gives a shit where it’s parked, right?”
He walked slowly towards the first one. “The only thing they don’t do is drive themselves.”
Lana paused and pointed to the front of one. “This one has holes. Like somebody shot at it.”
Simon nodded knowingly. “I may have taken a few shots at some assholes out here.” He gave her a slight shrug. “Maybe we should look towards the back of the lot.”
She followed him to the rear of the establishment and wrinkled her nose at the offerings. “These are so tiny.” She tilted her head and studied the first one. “Is that a van hidden under all that crap?”
“Probably.” Simon pulled the door open and stuck his head inside. “Nice, though.”
“The closet at our house was bigger than this.”
Simon nodded. “You can live in this, but you can’t drive a house.” He held the door open wider. “Check it out.”
Lana gave him a droll stare. “Seriously?” She stepped back and shook her head. “This is so cramped. We might as well sleep in the Ferrari.”
Simon lowered his head with a sigh. “Look, the roads may be blocked in areas. We need something that we can weave in and out and take off-road if we have to.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I can tell you now that I’m not gonna like it.” She stepped inside and Simon followed.
“See? All the amenities.” He pointed to the foldaway two-burner stove. “Kitchen.” He stepped around her and pulled open a door. “Closet.” He spun and opened the other door. “Bathroom.”
“Christ, Simon! The toilet is literally in the shower.”
He grinned at her. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Gross.”
He pushed open the rear door. “And…bedroom.” He turned and bounced on the end of the bed, wagging his brows at her. “Comfy.”
She stuck her head into the makeshift bedroom nook and shook her head. “Grosser.”
“Come on.” He sat up and patted the mattress beside him. “We can make this work. It’s just until we get away from here and find another place to call home.”
She sighed heavily then turned and sat next to him. “Where are we going to go?”
Simon shrugged. “I thought maybe we’d head to the woods for a while. Let things calm down. Then maybe we head north and search for a new place that’s all our own.”
She huffed and glanced around the tiny RV. “What if I don’t want to go to the woods?”
He shrugged again. “Then we don’t. Just tell me where you want to go and we’ll do it.”
She lowered her head. “I don’t care if we go to the woods.” She glanced at him. “I just don’t want to have to worry about people like the Cagers.”
Simon slipped his good arm around her. “Babe, the odds are that there are tons of Quee out there waking up, and who knows how many that didn’t get the memo and are still…Quee.” He pulled her to him and caressed her arm. “Either way, I’d like to head someplace in the middle of nowhere and wait for the fallout to settle. Then we come back to civilization and see how things are doing.”
“But not here.” It was a statement, not a question.
He shook his head. “As far away from the Cagers as I can get us.”
She nodded slightly. “And we can’t get the big RV because it’s too big, right?”
“Correct.”
She glanced out the window at some of the other, smaller RVs. “Can we look at something just a little bigger than this?”
Simon nodded. “Whatever you want.”
She came to her feet and walked the two and a half steps to the door. “This might work for an overnighter, but I can’t live in this for any length of time.”
“You’re the boss,” Simon said. He added softly, “If the missus ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
3
Hatcher slowly approached the house that Simon had escaped from with Vicky in tow. He stepped through the wreckage of the front gate and into the garage. With his pistol at the ready, he gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. Vicky followed a few paces behind.
He really didn’t expect Simon to return, but he felt it was better to err on the side of caution.
He walked through the house, noting the clothes scattered about and the bits of food left sitting out. He also noted that in the trash was blood soaked gauze and tape. Using a plastic fork, he raised the old bandages to the window and peered at the stains. “He’s got an infection.”
He held the gauze out and Vicky nodded. “He could be septic. It would be impossible to tell without seeing him in person.”
Hatcher dropped the gauze back in the trash and stood to his full height. “If we see him again, you can do the autopsy.”
Vicky said nothing as he continued to search the house. Every time he walked by the end of the couch, he felt a cold shiver. “I keep seeing Buck laying there and…” he turned angry eyes to his sister. “I thought the kid was dead.”
“He was fortunate that all he got was a lump to the head.”
Hatcher holstered his pistol and clenched his hands into fists. “Why does this piss me off so much? I know that Buck is okay, that he’ll be fine, but the whole situation has my blood boiling.”
Vicky stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Because you feel responsible for everybody. You told Buck not to go, but he did anyway.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Against your direct order.”
Hatcher shook his head. “That’s not what has me pissed.” He turned and faced her, doing his best to get his emotions under control. “We had Simon. Dead to rights. He spit booze in my eyes to escape,” Hatcher snorted with derision. “I should have killed him when we first got our hands on him.”
“Danny, you couldn’t have foreseen any of this.”
“I should have known. I’ve seen enough assholes just like him over the years.” He huffed as he tried to force himself to calm down. “I should have put a bullet in his head rather than hope to redeem him.”
“Some people can’t be redeemed.”
Hatcher turned slowly to her and shook his head. “Why would I say that?” He leaned against the back of the couch and his mind was deep in thought. “I wasn’t trying to redeem him.”
“What are you saying?”
“Roger and I had him cornered in his garage.” He rubbed at his chin as the memories came back more clearly. “I had him at gunpoint and was about to finish him.” He looked up at Vicky, his face a mask of consternation. “I was going to kill him.”
“Too bad you missed.”
Hatcher scoffed. “I never got a chance to fire. Simon got the drop on me, cracked me in my ribs.” He rubbed at them, remembering how hard it was to breathe.
“So you get him next time.”
Hatcher sobered, snapping from his trip down memory lane. “If there is a next time.” He stepped away from the couch and turned to her. “I can’t blame him for shooting at us. Odds are, he’s in the wind.”
“Unless he’s still as batshit crazy as he used to be. Then he’s holed up somewhere, plotting his next attack.”
Hatcher nodded slowly, his eyes traveling to the open front windows. “He could have killed us.” He swallowed hard. “All of us.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t.” Hatcher rubbed at his chin. “But why would I say that I was trying to redeem him?” He turned to her, his face serious. “For a moment there, I was convinced that the last time I saw him, I was trying to…save him.”
“You were trying to save all of us by killing him.” She sighed and met his gaze. “Danny, some people just need killing.”
“Maybe.” He turned slowly and peered through the front window, the one Simon had shot through. “But he had his chance and didn’t take it. He had us all lined up in his sights.”
“I’m not following you.”
He turned and stared at the floor where he’d found Buck. “Something Buck said keeps replaying in my head and…”
“What?” She stepped closer. “What’s eating at you?”
Hatcher pointed back to the window. “It’s maybe twenty or thirty yards to where we were when he opened fire. Even staggering drunk, he should have been able to hit one of us.” He turned slowly and pointed to the end of the couch. “They had Buck. All they had to do was squeeze the trigger….”
“Like I said, he’s lucky he survived the encounter.”
Hatcher slowly his head. “No.” He looked to his sister and fought with the hundred different notions running through his head, each jockeying for the lead position. “No, he chose not to kill us.”
“Why?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Why would a psychopath like him choose not to do you in?”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.” He gave her a grave look. “The only thought that makes any sense is…he wanted us alive so he could keep torturing us.”
Broussard rolled over and stared at his watch again. Sleep had evaded him as he replayed the mess they found themselves in. He sighed as he sat up and swung his feet off the edge of the narrow mattress.
Glancing at the artificial light coming from under the door, he wasn’t sure if it was daylight or dark outside. He reached for the files again and flipped open the one that Carol chose.
“Dr. Tamara Punch. Biologist, specializing in blood-borne diseases.” He sighed as he tossed the file back to the table.
He slowly stood and stretched when a soft knock at his door caught his attention. He pulled the door open. “You should knock louder.”
Carol looked up at him, her face unreadable. “I can’t sleep.”
“Nor can I.” He held the door open, and she stepped inside. “I keep thinking about the ramifications of our inevitable failure.”
“Don’t say that.” She sat down heavily on the mattress and held her head in her hands. “You’re the smartest man I know.”
“These days, that’s not saying much.” He closed the door and sat at the small, folding table. “I think your options are quite limited at the moment.” He smiled at his joke, but she ignored him.
“If it turns out that we can’t devise a cure, we fake it until we can find a way to escape.”
He sighed and stared at the messed up ponytail slung over her shoulder. “I doubt they’ll give us the opportunity.”
She looked up at him. “We make it part of the deal. We’ve been cooped up inside a ship all this time. If they want our best work, we need to be allowed to go outside. Breathe some fresh air. Walk around. Exercise.”
He shrugged slightly. “I’m sure it would be under armed supervision.”
“So?” She sat back and stared at him. “Eventually, they’ll lower
their guard. Then, we run.”
“Where?” He leaned closer, his voice guarded. “Where could we possibly run to that the president couldn’t send forces out for us?”
“I don’t know. But I’d rather die running than cowering in a corner in this…monstrosity.”
“Oui. As would I.”
She sat up and squared her shoulders. “Then we make that part of the bargain. If they want our help, we need something in return.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And not just ‘the chance to live’ or whatever other bullshit they throw at us.”
“Agreed.” He slowly came to his feet and handed her the file. “Dr. Punch it is.”
Carol took the file and nodded. She came to her feet and reached for the door. “I’ll notify Higgins that he and…” She paused and glanced at the file name, “Tamara have been selected for the team.”
“Very well.” Broussard stretched then reached for his bag. “In the meantime, I’m going to find a shower.”
She shot him a seductive smile. “Keep the water hot for me. I’ll join you shortly.”
“Found them!” Simon held the keys up. “Now we just pray that the battery is still charged.”
Lana fell into step with him as they emerged from the main office. “Tell me again how this works?”
“The generator runs off the gas tank; there’s a separate line going to it. It provides the electricity for the living compartment.” He held the gate open for her as she walked through. “They usually set them up so that the generator can’t drain your tank. I think there’s some kinda warning at, like, a quarter tank left. That’s so you can drive to the next gas station and fill up.”
“What about the car part?”
“What about it?” Simon spun the keys on his finger as they walked back out to the RV.
“Does it run off the same batteries as the rest of the rig?”
“Some do, some don’t.” He stood in front of the RV she had chosen and grinned. “I know this one has extra batteries, but I don’t know if they’re charged from the engine or the generator.”
Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 2