Caldera 10: Brave New World

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Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 4

by Stallcup, Heath

Hatcher unscrewed the cap and inhaled deeply of the dark roasted coffee. “Ah, nectar of the gods.” He poured a cup and set the thermos down on the coffee table. “I’m telling ya, Rog, that woman is a keeper.”

  Roger nodded as he fell into the chair opposite. “You’re telling me.” He crossed his legs and sat back, watching as Hatcher fought to stay awake. “How long did you hold out for?”

  Hatcher sipped the bitter nectar then looked at him through squinted eyes. “I noticed when my watch broke 4AM.” He took another sip and sighed. “I knew he wouldn’t be back that late, so I caught a few winks.”

  Roger raised a brow at him. “What made you think he wouldn’t sneak back after that?”

  “My dad was a cop. There’s a reason they shut down most patrols after the bars close.” Hatcher blew on the cup then took a long drink.

  “I was a cop, too. Trust me, bad guys do stupid shit at all hours.”

  “Then call it a hunch.” Hatcher poured another cup and sat back, the cobwebs in his head slowly clearing. “I think I like this place, Rog.” He held the coffee up as a toast. “Here’s to good ideas.”

  Roger looked around the house and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll take a look around at some of the others.”

  Hatcher sat forward, his finger extended. “There’s one you’ll want to avoid. They had a damned parakeet or something in there. Big fucker. Shit on everything.”

  Roger’s eyes widened. “A bird lived this long on its own?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “Big bags of bird food and it drank the water out of an aquarium.” He gently closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Left his mark everywhere.”

  “Okay. Mental note: don’t choose the bird doo house.”

  Hatcher smiled to himself. “We didn’t check all of the houses, but Buck found himself a little sports car he wants to tinker on.” He leaned forward and stretched. “I could be wrong, but I think we’re looking at our future.”

  Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Just about any place could be our future now.” He lowered his gaze and sighed. “With the cure out and the threat of attack lessening with each and every day, we don’t need to live in a fortress.”

  Hatcher took another swallow of the coffee and shook his head. “It’s not just the Zulus I’m worried about.” He raised a brow at Roger. “Remember the Marauders? Oh yeah…you rode with them.”

  Roger nodded. “And if they rolled into a town that had a thriving community—”

  “They’d sack it like the savages they are,” Hatcher finished. He stood up and twisted the cup back on the thermos. “Unfortunately, odds are good that there are a lot more ‘Simons’ out there, and we need to be prepared to defend ourselves.”

  Roger nodded slowly. “I get that.” He looked up at Hatcher and shrugged. “I do. I’m just saying that with humanity on the mend, there will be a lot more decent folk coming around than there will Simons.”

  Hatcher slowly shook his head. “It only takes one Simon to mess up a good thing, buddy.” He picked up the thermos and stepped toward the door. “They thrive on destroying what others build simply because they can. We have to be able to protect ourselves and our new lives.”

  “Dr. Punch.” Carol extended her hand.

  “Call me Tammy.” Her smile seemed genuine. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  Carol’s face fell and she gave her a confused look. “I was under the impression that we had no choice.” She looked to Andre, who simply shrugged. “We were told that our lives were at stake here.”

  Dr. Punch’s face went pale and she glanced to Broussard, who nodded slightly. “Oui. This is what we were told.”

  Her head slowly began to shake and her eyes bounced between the two researchers. “No, that can’t be right.” She glanced toward the acrylic doors and noted the armed guards inside the steel entry. “Wait, you aren’t joking.”

  Carol shook her head. “I take it you weren’t aware?”

  Tammy seemed to sober and sat down on the stool, her hands shaking. “We were told you volunteered to come and help solve our problem.”

  Broussard scoffed. “VolunTOLD is more like it.”

  “Your Dr. Higgins seemed to take great joy in informing us of our…predicament,” Carol informed her.

  Tammy’s eyes rolled. “He’s such a toad.” She came to her feet and her cheeks reddened. “He put himself in charge after the main researchers became infected. He claimed that—”

  Her words were cut off as Higgins entered the acrylic walled laboratory. “I see everyone’s gotten the chance to meet each other,” he beamed as he kicked the door shut with his heel. He set a box down on the counter and turned to Broussard. “These are archived files from our…predecessors. I thought you might find some interesting factoids in them.”

  Tammy had to bite her tongue as she stepped beside Carol. She leaned in close and whispered, “Do not trust him.”

  Carol gave her a wide smile. “That won’t be a problem.”

  “Ladies,” Higgins called as he tugged on his lab coat, “shall we begin?”

  Carol nodded and stepped forward. “We need to determine the—”

  “I believe Dr. Broussard is running this show,” Higgins interrupted, his smile broadening. “We shall all act as his assistants.”

  Broussard stepped close to Higgins, using his larger size to intimidate the smaller man. “Dr. Chaplain is more than capable of running her own program. I suggest you treat her with the respect she is due.”

  Higgins’ smile faded and he nodded quickly. “Of course.” He backed away slowly. “I only meant to—”

  “Your intentions are of no matter,” Broussard interrupted. He turned to Carol. “You were saying?”

  “Before I was so rudely interrupted…” She stepped around the mousy man and looked to Dr. Punch. “One of the things we need to assess is whether or not this new rage virus is contagious.”

  “New?” Tammy asked. “Is it not a manifestation of the original, despite the cure?”

  Broussard shook his head. “Non. We are convinced that it is a mutated form of the cure, an entirely new strain.” He glanced at Higgins. “Did you not share the data already collected?”

  Higgins squared his shoulders and gave him a smug look. “She didn’t have clearance, nor the need to know.”

  Broussard narrowed his gaze at the man and fought the urge to physically strike him. “Need to know?” He stepped closer causing Higgins to stumble over his own feet as he moved back. “Need to know?” he repeated.

  Higgins nodded rapidly, his face flushing. “Yes, I had to determine—”

  “You claim that you have been searching for a cure, or at least a treatment, to this secondary mutated virus and you didn’t bother to inform your colleagues of what they were facing?” Broussard had to force himself to keep a controlled timbre to his voice.

  Higgins stepped back and stood taller. “Yes. I had to make an executive decision and—”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Broussard stated flatly. “You are off the team.” He pointed towards the door. “Go. Now.” Higgins stammered and was about to plead when Broussard glared at the man and all but screamed, “Get out now or I’ll THROW YOU OUT!”

  Higgins clambered for the exit and stormed toward the steel blast doors. Broussard fought to regain control of his emotions as Carol slipped in next to him. “You make me hot when you get all commanding like that.”

  He turned and stared at her open mouthed, realizing she was defusing the moment with humor. “As well it should.” He cleared his throat then turned to Dr. Punch. “Let’s get you caught up, shall we?”

  Carol waved her toward the counter and Andre laid out the files he felt were most pertinent. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

  Lana drove through the night and slowed the RV as they entered the Santa Fe National Forest. She yawned and stretched her neck as the headlights pierced the gloom cast from the trees overhanging the road, blocking the early morning sunlight. “We are officially in t
he woods,” she stated blandly.

  Simon nodded as his eyes scanned the carved wooden signs. “Look for a campground. One made for RVs.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  Simon nodded. “Believe it or not, I went camping a time or two when I was a kid.” He shot her a sad smile. “I had a cousin that was about my age. His parents seemed almost rich compared to my family.”

  “They used to take you along?”

  He nodded slowly, his mind replaying scenes from his youth. “They had this rundown old Winnebago, but to me? It was a mansion on wheels.” He turned and gave her an excited smile. “I mean, come on. How many cars have a bathroom inside?” He chuckled as he sat back and watched the trees creep by.

  “So? What happened?”

  He gave her a soft smile. “We used to go every summer. At least, until I turned thirteen.” He sighed heavily and continued to stare out the window. “I fell in with a bad group of guys. One of them gave me a switchblade.” He shrugged slightly. “I thought it was the coolest thing.”

  “Let me guess, they caught you with it and decided you were a bad influence.”

  He shook his head. “No.” He inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “We went up to the mountains. Not unlike this….”

  “And?”

  “And we ran into another group of kids. They were a bit older.” His voice softened and he had a far away look in his eyes. “They started up, bullying my cousin.”

  “And you pulled the knife to defend him.”

  Simon nodded. “They beat the dogshit out of me, took the knife.” He seemed to cringe as the memories surfaced. “And…they cut Geoff. Bad.”

  “Then what?”

  Simon shrugged. “My aunt and uncle blamed me. Said if I hadn’t brought it, Geoff wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He fell back in his seat and sighed. “I never hung out with them again.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Hell, I never saw them again.”

  “Well, now you have guns,” Lana stated flatly. “Let somebody try to bully us now and you can—”

  Her words were cut off as her eyes spotted the road block. She slammed on the brakes and slid the heavy RV to a stop. “What the…” Simon’s voice trailed off.

  Lana turned the wheel slightly to light up the hand written sign by the side of the road block. “‘Honk twice and we’ll come to you’?” She glanced to Simon, who gave her a dumbfounded look. “What do we do?”

  Simon squinted as he read the sign. He leaned across the cabin and pressed the horn button twice. “We see who comes to the gate.”

  “And if nobody comes?”

  He shrugged again. “We clear the road block and travel on.”

  Lana swallowed hard. “And what if somebody comes that we’d rather not meet?”

  Simon gave her a sinister smile. “Like you said, now we have guns.”

  She nodded slowly. “So could they.”

  Simon shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out either way.”

  6

  Roger held the door for Hatcher and the pair slipped into the main lobby of the retirement home. Hatcher pushed open the door to his office and fell into his chair.

  “How much sleep did you get?” Vicky asked in a condescending tone.

  “Not enough,” Hatcher groaned as he reached for the thermos again. “But I caught an hour or so this morning.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Vicky sat gently in the chair opposite him. “I take it Simon didn’t return?”

  Hatcher slowly shook his head as he poured another cup. “I still want people on guard while we are working that housing addition.” He took a long pull from the coffee and sat back, his eyes focusing on her. “I don’t trust snakes.”

  “Nobody trusts him, Danny. But I also don’t think that we should settle on the very first place we locate that meets most of your criteria, either.”

  Hatcher sighed as he stared at her. “That place is damned near perfect.” He rocked slowly as he spoke. “It has a solid wall that we can extend to form a perimeter. The houses are well built and fairly new. Will said that converting them over shouldn’t be a problem, and we can have water in a matter of days.”

  She lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head. “And what about this place?”

  “What of it?” he set the coffee down and sat forward, his face stern. “We’re not cutting the folks off who want to stay.”

  “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant, Vic.” He stood up and tried to mask his frustration. “Look, the place is large enough that every family here could have their own space and there’d still be room for expansion.” He turned and raised a brow at her. “People can have more privacy, room to grow.”

  She nodded and came to her feet. “I’m just saying that we don’t need to move so fast. We’ve barely gotten used to this place and now—”

  “This place nearly burned to the ground in a single attack.” He kept his voice low and even. “At least there, if we’re attacked, they have nearly a hundred houses to burn before we’re all homeless. Here, it’s one building.” He leaned across his desk and tried to give her an understanding look. “We nearly lost everything.”

  “But we didn’t.” Her face softened as she spoke. “All I’m saying is that here, we all have to work together as a team. Yes, we all stay under one roof, but we also work the same greenhouse. We all do our part to keep the machine going in the right direction.”

  Hatcher slowly sat back down and gave her a confused look. “And you think that if everybody had their own place…”

  She shrugged. “Maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to help out. If it doesn’t directly affect them…why care?”

  He shook his head. “I think you’re wrong.”

  She sighed as she came to her feet. “I hope that I am. But on the off chance that I’m not, you need to be prepared to deal with the problems that crop up.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but she had already turned and was walking out. Hatcher sat back and sighed.

  “She may be right,” Roger stated softly. “Don’t misunderstand, I get the whole ‘commune’ thing.”

  “Your point?” Hatcher asked, unable to keep the aggravation from his voice.

  Roger smirked. “You realize that commune and communism are related words, right?”

  “Don’t start politicizing—”

  Roger held a hand up to stop him. “I’m not dragging politics into this, I promise. What I’m saying is that, in its purist sense, communism is sorta what we got going on here.” He raised a brow at him. “From each according to his abilities, to each according to their needs.”

  Hatcher ground his teeth. “Again, your point?”

  Roger sighed and sat down where Vic had been. “Look, Hatch, the very same reason that it doesn’t work as a political ideology is the same reason it won’t work long term on people, even on a small scale.” He sat forward and gave him an understanding smile. “Consider this…everybody has their own place. One guy is good at plumbing; another isn’t. If the guy who needs plumbing work done can’t convince the other guy to help…then what?”

  “They sorta have to. That’s the point of working as a team.” Hatcher shook his head. “This isn’t communism.”

  “But it is.” Roger hooked his thumb towards the lobby. “All those guys out there, they’re working to secure their future, right? Theirs and their families. But once they are on their own…then things start to change.”

  Hatcher groaned. “Please, continue.”

  “All I’m saying is, be prepared to deal with the ‘haves and have nots’ issues. Person A is butthurt because person B has more. Or gets more.”

  “Everybody gets the same according to their…” Hatcher stopped himself and sat back, the light bulb clicking on. “I’m starting to see what you mean.”

  Roger nodded. “I’m not saying that this will crop up immediately, but it will eventually. It’s human nature, man.”

  “Despite the fact that we’re supposed to be in this as a team…som
ebody will eventually want more.”

  “Human nature.”

  Hatcher drained his coffee cup and glanced around the office. “I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee to deal with this.”

  Roger gave him a goofy grin and came to his feet. “You don’t have to deal with it right now. And when the time comes, I’m sure you’ll have an answer.” He stepped toward the office door and paused. “I’m just saying that, in her own way, Vic has a point. If you want to move us all to nicer digs, go for it. I’m with ya a hundred percent. Just be prepared for what will inevitably come.”

  Hatcher sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Understood.”

  “You don’t have to say it. ‘Don’t tell Vic she was right.’” He grinned wider. “I think she already knows.”

  Dr. Punch sat back and stared, astounded, at the printouts. “And you’re certain that this new variant is from a mutated form of your cure?”

  Carol shrugged. Broussard nodded. “I am.” He pulled the results from Kevin’s samples. “Dr. McAlester was the first exposed. Even in the first batches, there was a small variant of mutated strains of strep. That was all it took.” He exhaled loudly as he leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut. “What I cannot be certain of is whether the mutated form made up the majority of what he was exposed to, or if the mutated form was somehow able to overwrite the genetic changes that we engineered into the cure.”

  Dr. Punch nervously tapped at her front tooth with the end of a pen. “And until we know for sure…”

  “We can’t engineer a cure for the cure,” Carol concluded.

  “We also need to know if the new rage virus is transmittable,” Broussard added. He glanced over his shoulder to the people trapped in the acrylic cells. “I can’t even begin to consider what vectors we could utilize to test the hypothesis.”

  “Test subjects?” Dr. Punch asked nervously.

  Broussard nodded.

  Carol noted the look of fear in Tammy’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She swallowed hard and pushed away from the workbench. “I’ve heard rumors,” she shook her head nervously, “that Dr. Higgins may have allowed personnel from the base to be utilized as test subjects.”

 

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