She sighed as she opened the door. “So we pray that it starts.” She reached for the keys, and he placed them in her hand. “If it doesn’t, we’ll find a battery that’s charged and jump it.”
She inserted the keys into the ignition and looked at him. “Here goes nothing.”
She twisted; the engine turned over slightly before a repeated clicking sound came from under the hood. She looked up at him again. “I take it that’s not great.”
Simon shrugged. “We jump it, that’s all. No problem.” He held a finger up. “Stay here.”
She stepped out of the cab and glared at him. “You aren’t gonna wrestle a car battery with one hand.” She slipped the keys into her pocket then caught up to him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that before I go pulling batteries and hoping one is good, I’m gonna look in the shop and see if they have a portable jumper.”
“A what?”
“It’s like a battery pack but with a handle. Smaller, lighter, has a lot more punch.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Simon paused at the shop door and peered into the inky gloom. “It’s awfully dark in there.”
“You think some Quee are holed up in there?”
Simon shrugged. “Possible, but I doubt it.” He gave her a knowing look. “No food.” He leaned his shoulder in to the large sliding door and pushed it open. As daylight flooded the gloomy interior, he listened for movement. “I think we’re good.”
“What does this thing look like?” she asked as she went to the right and sifted through the numerous tools laying around.
“Plastic, usually. Has two clamps coming off of it. One should be red, the other black.” He paused at a tall toolbox and pulled out the larger drawers. “About the size of a thick laptop computer.”
“Like this?” She held up a yellow plastic device.
Simon squinted in the low light and stepped closer. “I think that’s it.” He took the charger from her and set it on the bench. “There should be a display of some kind to tell you how much of a charge it has.”
He flipped a few switches then found the test button. He pressed it and grinned. “A little over half. I think this’ll work.”
Lana picked it up and headed for the door. “You’re wounded. I can carry it.”
Simon narrowed his gaze at her. “I’m not an invalid.”
Lana snorted. “More like in-valid.”
“Words hurt, ya know.” He fell into step behind her. “Do you know how to hook it up?”
“Red is positive.”
He gave her an impressed look. “How’d you know that?”
“I had a turd of a car that always needed to be jumped.” She pushed the memory out of her head. “Some things tend to stick.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me you were a mechanic.”
She shook her head and avoided making eye contact. “Actually, I had a shitty partner that thought every penny I earned was his. You learn to survive on less than nothing in situations like that.”
Simon feared he’d stepped on another touchy aspect of her life and opted to change the subject. “Once we get it started, the alternator will charge the battery for us.” He turned slowly and noted the small fuel tank suspended next to the shop. “We’ll pray that they still have gas, otherwise we’ll be draining the tanks of whatever we can find.”
He pulled the lever under the dash of the RV and she lifted the hood before attaching the battery pack. “Give it a shot.”
Simon took the key from her and slipped it into the ignition. With a twist, the engine came to life and he revved it a few times. A quick glance at the fuel gage had him seriously hoping that the fuel tanks at the shop were stocked.
Lana dropped the hood and slipped into the passenger side, dropping the charger to the floor. “Do we need gas?”
“Oh yeah.” He pulled the gear selector to D and eased the thirty-two footer out of its resting place. He smiled as the body rocked on the uneven gravel and pulled it as close to the gas tanks as he could get. “Let’s hope they paid their gas bill.”
He stood below the fuel tanks and rapped on the side with a scrap piece of metal. “I can’t tell.”
Lana pulled the nozzle from its resting place and squeezed the pump handle. “Nothing.”
“Hold up.” Simon reached under the large tank and twisted a steel knob, opening up the fuel. “Now try it.”
She squeezed the handle again and chuckled as gas spurted out. “There’s no power. How is this working?”
“Gravity fed.” He unscrewed the fuel cap and she inserted the nozzle. She set the handle to full and stepped back.
“I guess we wait.”
Simon nodded. “And pray that water hasn’t gotten in it.” He glanced under the tank at the glass water separator but had no idea what he was looking for. “Once we’re full, we can head north.”
“Why north?”
“The woods.” He gave her an easy smile. “I guess we’ll find out if bears shit in it.”
4
Hatcher kicked the few bits of trash into a pile then scooped it up into a trash bag. Vicky Sue watched as he picked through the house, checking for food, water, anything that might be of use.
“There’s a rifle missing from the gun cabinet,” she stated flatly.
Hatcher didn’t look up as he tied off the garbage bag. “Probably what he used on us.” He tossed the bag to the corner of the dining room near the garage door then slapped his hands together, brushing dirt from them. He looked up at her and sighed. “Should I ask how you know something is missing from here?”
Vicky shot him a smug grin. “The dust.” She crossed her arms and gave him a ‘duh’ look. “I guess it was the maid’s month off.”
Hatcher plopped onto the overstuffed couch and nodded to himself. “This will do.”
“For what?”
He raised a brow at her. “I’m gonna stay here. If Simon comes back, I’ll deal with him.”
“Why on earth would he return here?”
Hatcher cracked a grin. “Simon’s stupid. Stupid criminals always return to the scene of the crime.”
Vicky rolled her eyes. “You watched one too many movies as a kid, Danny.” She stepped around his feet and reached for the door. “If you’re claiming this house, you might want to fix your front gate. I hear the homeowners association is a real bitch about yard maintenance.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Hatcher shot back dryly. “Let Will know that I’m hunkering here for the night. If he needs me, I’ll check the radio every hour on the hour.”
She leaned against the door jamb and shook her finger at him. “What if Simon does come back and catches you asleep?”
Hatcher shook his finger back at her. “I won’t be.”
She pushed off the door jamb. “I think you’re being stupid. He could return with more of his Zulu army.”
Hatcher glanced out the front window and slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think too many have been exposed to the cure.” He turned back to face her. “And if they do show up, I’ll deal with them.” He gave her an understanding smile. “I’ll be okay. I promise. Just have Buck or Roger come and get me in the morning.”
“Fine,” she huffed as she turned for the door. “Every hour on the hour, right?”
He held the radio up. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. That was mom.” She turned back and glared at him. “And I swear, if you say that I’m anything like her, I’ll beat you to death with my shoe.”
Hatcher slowly shook his head. “I would never.”
She narrowed her gaze at him before she turned back for the door. “First thing in the morning.”
“First thing,” he called to her retreating form. He watched her from the front window and when he was certain she was out of hearing range, he added, “Mom.”
Broussard pulled Carol to the side and lowered his voice. “We have to assume that we’ll be watched cons
tantly.”
“And listened in on,” she added quietly.
“The plan is to do what we can. We’ll look at their data and if it correlates, we’ll combine it with our own. If we can do anything…”
“Then we do.” She met his gaze and added, “But if we can’t?”
He nodded slowly. “We play along. I get the impression that Higgins isn’t the brightest bulb. We string him along until we can figure out an escape.”
“Agreed.”
“But in the meantime, we need to gather as much data as possible on this new mutated virus.”
She shook her head. “I don’t follow.”
“We need to know if it’s transmittable. Can somebody who was a Zed, but is now cured, contract it? Can it be transmitted through blood, saliva, or a break in the skin.”
She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. “And whether somebody like us would be at risk. Uninfected, but exposed to the cure—”
“Exactly.” Andre sighed heavily and pulled her closer. “It would do us little good to escape if we run into somebody in that state.”
“Agreed.” She inhaled deeply, screwing up her courage. “Shall we, then?”
He nodded and reached for the door to the lab. “After you.”
Higgins spun and gave them his best smile. “I take it you’re rested and ready to begin?”
Broussard shook his head. “Not exactly rested, but we are ready.”
Carol handed Higgins the file for Dr. Punch. “We want her.”
Higgins looked at the file and gave them a blank stare. “That’s all?”
“And you,” Broussard added as he walked by the man, checking the equipment at his disposal.
“Well, that was practically a certainty,” Higgins stated proudly.
Carol turned and gave him a deadpan stare. “We only wanted you so that we wouldn’t have to waste time sending somebody else to you for supplies or to appropriate necessary equipment. You’re barely qualified to run a rural clinic lab.” She sighed animatedly. “I have no idea how you came to be employed with the CDC.”
Higgins stammered for a moment, his face flushing. “I’ll have you know that I—”
“Later,” Broussard interrupted. “For now, we need to see your data and copies of all of the tests you’ve run.”
Higgins tried to compose himself and fought through the fluster. “Of course. And I’ll have Dr. Punch brought in immediately.” He turned and pointed to a row of file cabinets. “The last cabinet on the left. It has all of our procedures and results.”
Broussard stepped past him and pulled the top drawer open. “I’ll start here.” He glanced at Carol. “Will you please take an inventory of the equipment and supplies? Give the list of necessaries to Dr. Higgins so he can get us supplied as soon as possible.”
“Of course.” Carol turned and shoulder checked Higgins as she walked by. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she went about chronicling the lab.
Higgins swallowed the anger that began to rise in his throat and turned for the door. “I’ll return shortly.” He gave Carol a nasty look. “But be aware that we may not actually be able to get everything you need.”
She paused and gave him a mock smile. “Yes, you will. If you want a cure for…this.” She turned and motioned to the infected behind the acrylic walls. “Otherwise, we can’t be held accountable.”
“Oh, and one other thing,” Broussard added casually. “Dr. Chaplain and myself have been trapped aboard a ship for the better part of this outbreak. In order to keep our minds sharp and our spirits up, we will require regular outings.”
“Wait...what?” Higgins stammered again.
“Outings. As in, go outside, stretch our legs, breathe fresh air.” He gave him a knowing look. “On the daily.”
“I can’t authorize such a thing.” Higgins swallowed hard. “You are…” he trailed off.
Broussard held a hand up to stop him. “Believe me, we know what our situation is. Regardless, we will require daily opportunities to decompress.” He stopped pulling the files and turned to face him. “Or you may have your goons come in and shoot us now.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow at the man. “However, be aware, that the only two people who might be able to find a cure for your politicians, are we two. If you kill us, you kill them.”
Higgins felt his jaw opening and closing but no words came out. His face flushed and he turned for the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”
After he left, Broussard gave Carol a knowing look and a quick smirk before turning back to the files.
“Good bluff,” she stated softly. “I hope they go for it.”
“As do I,” he whispered back.
Simon sat back in the passenger seat and pointed to the left. “Turn there.”
Lana gave him a confused look. “I thought we were going to the national park at Santa Fe?”
“We are.” Simon pointed to the left again. “But we have to make a stop first.”
She turned the large RV and slowly made her way up the street. “Hey…is that the grocery store we were at?”
“Yup.” Simon sat up and unbuckled his seat belt. “We need to stock up before we head for the hills.”
She pulled the RV directly in front of the doors and stopped. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Simon shot her a smile and opened the door. “If there are any Quee here, I’ll just have to remind them who their alpha is.”
She rolled her eyes and put the RV in park. “Right. You do that.”
He stepped toward the front of the store and pulled the pistol. “I’d bet money they’re all gone.” He paused by the front door and winced. “Good god, I think they all died in here.”
Lana cringed at the smell and shook her head at him. “We aren’t going in there,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “we’ve both had baths.”
Simon sighed and stepped closer to the door. The broken glass crunched under his feet. “We need supplies. We can’t hole up in the mountains with nothing to eat but hair and toenails.”
She rubbed a hand over her bald head. “Not funny, asshole.”
Simon peered into the murky gloom and hollered inside, “Hello in there!”
He strained to listen for movement and once he was satisfied there was nobody home, he tucked the pistol into his waistband and gabbed a shopping cart. “Grab anything that still looks edible.”
Lana winced again as she stepped inside. “Oh my god. Tell me it wasn’t like this when we were here.”
Simon paused at a dried and cracking black pool of shit. “Yeah, it was.” He nodded toward the stain. “Avoid stepping in the squirt piles. I don’t think that will wash off.”
She gagged as she fell into step beside him. “Oh my god. I can taste it.” She wretched slightly and spit. “Please, Simon, we can find another place that doesn’t stink.”
“We know this place.” He pushed deeper into the store. “This used to be home.”
She shook her head as she grabbed another cart. “This was never home.”
Simon paused as a swarm of flies took to the air then continued. He swept the remaining cans of food into the cart, ignoring those that fell to the floor. He wasn’t going to risk getting Quee shit on him for a lousy can of lima beans. “Find as much canned meat stuff as you can. We’ll need plenty of protein.”
“Listen to you,” she muttered. “Mister nutrition now.”
“I don’t think either of us wants to be trapped in an RV with the other when all we’ve had is beans.” He allowed that thought to take root in her mind as he continued pushing through the store.
She paused at the uncooked pasta. “How are you with carbs?”
“The more the merrier,” he yelled from two aisles over. He continued working his way through the store, straining to push the overfilled cart with one hand. He paused and stared in the gloomy shadows at the rows of liquor. He felt his mouth go dry and he licked his lips. His hand reached out and caressed the side of a half-gallon bottle of cheap whiskey.
“Want me to give you a minute alone?”
Simon nearly jumped at her voice then turned and gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” He pulled the cart back and stepped around her. “Old habits and all that.”
She sighed and reached up to grab a few of the bottles. “We might need a disinfectant.”
Simon paused and gave her a shake of the head. “There’s rubbing alcohol by the pharmacy.”
“What’s the difference?”
He gave her a weak smile. “Rubbing alcohol will kill you if you drink it.” He peered at the bottles sitting atop her cart. “That stuff won’t. Not right away at least.” He turned for the front of the store then called over his shoulder, “And I’m only human. Best to keep that stuff as far away from me as possible.”
Lana watched him drag the cart towards the front of the store then glanced at the bottle in her hand. She unscrewed the top and sniffed the contents. She winced as she screwed the cap back on. “I’ll take his word for it.” She dropped the plastic bottle and it made an odd thwump sound as it bounced on the hard tile floor.
She turned for the front of the store and pushed her cart after him. “Wait up. I’ll help you load this crap.”
Simon paused at the front doors. “Take your time.” He pushed the cart out into the sunlight and towards the RV. “We have a lot more trips to make.”
5
Hatcher jerked awake as Roger banged on the door leading into the dining room. “Wakey, wakey, hands off snakey.”
Hatcher sat up so suddenly that he pulled a muscle in his shoulder. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a fella like that.” He rolled his head on his neck, stretching the tension from his muscles.
“Yeah.” Roger leaned on the doorway and smirked at him. “I noticed how awake and alert you were.”
“Not a word to Vic.” He narrowed his gaze at the man. “I mean it.”
“The woman who saved my life? Never.” Roger stepped into the room and handed Hatcher a thermos. “Gift from Candy.”
Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 3