Caldera 10: Brave New World

by Stallcup, Heath

  Simon let go of the pistol and motioned for Trent to sit down again. “Look, ‘Squatch…I used to lead a crew that…” He glanced to Lana and noted her wide eyes. He opted to be a bit more vague. “We weren’t exactly nice folks, and I was probably the worst of the bunch.” He sat back and crossed his legs, his eyes measuring the man across from him. “Rather than do what was best for my crew, I usually opted to do what was best for me.”

  Trent nodded, almost as if he understood. “We all—”

  “No, you aren’t listening.” Simon uncrossed his legs and sat forward, his eyes boring into the large young man. “I was selfish. I did things that I’m not proud of.” He looked back to Lana then smiled. “But I’m not that person anymore.”

  “I was gonna say that it’s human nature to—”

  “Not anymore,” Simon interrupted. “Now I have to consider what’s best for her.” He pointed to Lana. “Then I worry about what I might want.”

  Trent nodded slowly. “Well, I’m cooking again tonight. Hammer might be able to show up, depending on how he’s feeling. I know he’d like the chance to meet you.” He slowly came to his feet. “Nothing fancy like deer tonight. Just some rabbits that we caught in the snares, but there’s plenty, and you’re both more than welcome to come by.” Simon watched him reach for the door then he paused. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.” He swallowed hard and stared out into the surrounding woods. “We’ve all done things we ain’t proud of.” He turned back and gave the pair a sad smile. “We’re doing our best to make up for it now.”

  Lana watched him step down from the RV and caught the door. “What time?”

  Trent looked into the sky then back to her. “About dark-thirty.”

  She smiled as she pulled the door to. “We’ll see you tonight.” She watched him trudge across the campground before she turned back to Simon. “Did you hear him?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I buy his bullshit.”

  She stepped over his outstretched legs and straddled him. “No…he’s saying that there are other bikers here.” She licked him from his chin to his earlobe before she bit lightly. “They need a new leader.”

  Simon sat back and stared into her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  She smiled as she pulled the joint from his vest pocket then palmed his lighter. “I’m thinking you can start calling me Empress any time now.”

  12

  Hatcher rolled over in the bed and sighed. “It’s too quiet. I need a fan or…” He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled his boots on. He opened the bedroom window and breathed the cool night air. He could hear the bugs outside and knew that they’d chew through the screen to make a midnight snack of him, given half a chance.

  He pulled the window shut and shuffled into the living room, a box under his arm. He lit a lone candle and pulled the coffee table closer. Spreading out an old towel, he set his pistols on the table and began to disassemble them.

  The Glock came apart quickly. He opened the box to remove his trusty cleaning kit, and as he went through the motions, his mind slipped away from the familiar actions and flew like a bird over the terrain until he was back at the park.

  He remembered every inch of his old office. The creak of his chair and the smell of the wood-lined walls were as familiar to him as his own hands. In his mind’s eye he glanced down at the wall calendar that he used as a desk mat. Scribbles and doodles lined the edges; messy notes were scrawled across the entire sheet. He was nothing if not a constant doodler when talking on the phone, and while it might appear to be the work of a madman, he also left meticulous notes between the abstract designs.

  His mind traveled to the walls of his office, to the various awards and commendations framed and mounted. Most hung crooked, and while it might have secretly driven him mad, he left them like that just to mess with her.

  He could almost see Shelly walking into the station, her duty belt swaying with her hips as she sashayed across the old wooden floor. Although he’d never admit it, he loved to watch her move. Fluid and graceful, seductive…she was mesmerizing.

  “You can take the gal out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the gal!”

  He smiled as he remembered the numerous times she’d stated that. As if he could ever forget where she came from. The warm drawl in her voice was like music to his ears.

  He loved watching her pull that unruly mess of curls back and tie it off into a bushy ponytail. And though she never wore makeup, she had the freshest look of anybody he’d ever seen.

  Hatcher sat back and stared at the two pistols laying on the towel. While his mind had traveled back in time and space, his hands had gone through the motions of cleaning and oiling both tools. He picked up the Glock and worked the slide, ensuring that his muscle memory hadn’t missed anything.

  He smiled as he pulled the trigger and heard the satisfying click. The backup revolver was as smooth as ever.

  He sniffed, and noticed that his nose was running. He pulled his sleeve down to wipe at his face. It was only then that he realized tears had tracked through the dust and whiskers on his cheeks.

  He sat back and sighed, wiping at his eyes and silently praying that whatever God or the Fates had thrown at Shelly, she’d found a way to survive.

  He folded the towel and stuffed it back into the box before closing the lid. He silently reloaded both weapons before standing and putting everything back where it needed to be.

  He stretched out on the mattress again and fought the urge to scream. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer for her: his deputy ranger, best friend, and the only woman that he’d ever allow himself to have feelings for.

  “God, if you’re up there…please look out for her.” He sniffed back tears again and opened his eyes in the darkness. “Keep her safe.”

  Because I’m not there to protect her.

  Andre took a deep breath and gave Carol a slight nod. Her wide eyes told him that she was more frightened than he was, but she did as directed, and pulled the feeding door open.

  Andre flexed his hand in the stainless steel mesh then thrust his arm into the hole. He was shocked at the strength of the small woman as she tugged at his limb, doing her level best to wrench it free from his torso.

  He placed his other hand against the acrylic wall and pulled for all he was worth, praying that he was truly protected from her ravenous bites.

  The screams that echoed through the laboratory had all the researchers on edge, the hair on the back of their necks standing on end.

  It wasn’t until Andre fell to the ground, his arm still attached to his body, that he realized, the grand majority of those screams had come from him. “Shut it! Shut it now!” he yelled as he rolled over and struggled to come to his feet.

  Tammy and Randy appeared at his sides, helping him to stand. “Are you okay?” Randy asked, stepping back and checking him for wounds.

  “Yes, I think I’m…” He held his arm out and checked for blood. “I think the chain mail worked.” He flexed his hand again and winced at the pain in his ring finger. “Although I think she nearly bit my fingers off.”

  Tammy unbuckled the straps at his shoulder and with Randy’s help, they slid the leather, chain mail and plastic armor from him. “This is so gross.” Randy muttered.

  “Hopefully, in that grossness we’ll find the oral samples we need.” Broussard shook out his arm, hoping that he didn’t bruise from her grip. “Swab the entire thing.”

  “I’m on it.” Tammy carried the setup to the workbench as if it were radioactive and set it down gingerly. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  Andre double checked for bites then slipped his lab coat on again. “I couldn’t very well ask any of you to attempt such lunacy.” He stood upright and gave Carol a reassuring smile. “I’m all right.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him as she marched past. “That was reckless.”

  “Perhaps. But we needed the samples.”

  Tammy held up a piece of
uneaten…something. “I’m pretty sure we got them.” She dropped the chunk of partly chewed flesh into a petri dish and sealed it. “I have no idea what I’m even picking out of this mail.”

  “You are picking out exactly what we need.” He picked up the petri dish and stared through the side of it. “Let’s get this cultured so we can run our tests.” He handed the dish to Irene. “Be careful, but be quick.”

  He shook his hand again and glanced at David O’Dell. “Check out my finger; see if it’s broken.” He kept his voice low and quiet, doing his best to keep Carol from hearing.

  David examined his hand then shook his head. “I don’t think it’s broken, but this joint may be dislocated.”

  Carol stepped from behind the two men and snatched his hand into her grip. Broussard winced. “Let me see.” She examined him quickly then gripped the end of his ring finger. “On three.” She looked up at him and his eyes widened, a scream caught in his throat. “One…” She jerked the joint and Andre let loose a string of epithets in French.

  “That trick never works,” he growled.

  “It did this time.” She glared at him as she walked across the lab and set the temperature on the incubators. “The next time I tell you not to do something because it’s too dangerous, you had better listen to me.”

  He sighed heavily and weighed the options of arguing with her or simply agreeing. He nodded gently, “Yes, ma cherie.”

  Her demeanor softened slightly as she grabbed sterile swabs and turned to the table where Tammy was taking samples. “I want to get some swabs for DNA.” She reached across and swabbed at the clear fluids, hoping it was saliva. “We can cross reference this with our printouts from the cure.”

  Broussard nodded as he stepped in behind her. “After this, it is a waiting game.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I suggest we get some much needed rest.”

  She glanced at him and raised a brow. “Rest?”

  He smiled shyly. “Surely we’d rest better after…” He shrugged.

  “Let me guess, the adrenaline spike from almost being eaten has you excited?”

  Broussard shrugged slightly. “One might make the connection.”

  She fought the urge to smile and noticed the other researchers pretending not to listen. “Fine.” She stripped the rubber gloves from her hands then turned to face him. “But this time, I get the whips and chains and you have to wear the ball gag.”

  She noticed the look of shock on his face just before the others began to snicker.

  Simon lay down on the bed with a soft groan and scooted slightly when Lana curled up next to him. “Okay, so that Hammer fella checks out.”

  She sighed as she lay her head on his chest. “Do you remember him?”

  Simon shook his head. “Not even a little.” He stifled a yawn and glanced down at her in the dark. “I’m thinking that ‘Squatch is still full of shit, though.”

  “How so?”

  “He didn’t drop by on his own. I think the other bikers sent him with specific questions.”

  Lana propped herself on one arm and stared at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “The guy’s an idiot,” Simon stated flatly. “You heard him tonight. He could barely put a sentence together.”

  “He was nervous because he thought he’d pissed you off earlier.” She lay back down and laughed once. “I think he knew how close he came to getting shot today.”

  “Shit. That boy had no clue.” He sighed as he stared at the ceiling. “He’s big and stout, but if brains were dynamite, he wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose.”

  “That’s not fair, Simon. He’s a good guy.”

  “He’s probably got retard strength, too.”

  “That’s so rude!” she chided, slapping at his midsection. “You shouldn’t be like that.”

  He chuckled and continued. “No, seriously. You could be like, ‘Hey, ‘Squatch, go pick up that car and tuck it between them trees,’ and he’d be all, ‘Dur… okay, George.’”

  “Stop it.” She fought not to laugh at the voices he made. “He’s young and he’s bright. Maybe a bit naïve, but he’s not stupid.”

  Simon laughed low and ran his fingers across the skin of her back. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” She nipped at his skin, causing him to flinch. “And I consider myself a pretty good judge of people.”

  He glanced at her and shook his head. “You can’t be too good at judging people.” He pulled her tighter to him. “You chose me.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Actually, no; you chose me.” She ran a nail across the skin of his navel, causing him to jerk slightly. “I just made you stick to it.”

  He scoffed as he smiled at her. “If you say so, Empress.”

  She nodded. “I do. I remember it plainly. You told me that I was yours.” She looked up at him. “You might as well have said you married me.”

  Simon froze for a moment then felt a peculiar warmth spreading through his insides. It was unfamiliar, but he liked it. He found himself smiling broader, and he laughed. “Are you telling me we’re hitched?”

  She groaned slightly as she exhaled, nuzzling him as sleep overtook her. “Damn skippy.”

  Simon nodded to himself. “In that case, I do.”

  She wrapped her arm around his middle and sighed. “You’d better.”

  13

  Roger and Hatcher watched as Will wired up the convertor. “There. That should do it.” He turned and nodded to Roger. “Try a light switch.”

  Roger hesitated a moment and stepped away from the switch on the wall. He stretched his arm out and slapped at the plastic plate, lighting the garage. “Hey, nothing blew up.” He smiled at the pair.

  Will smirked and collected his tools. “Mr. Hatcher, I trust that you paid attention. Are you ready to start wiring up the other houses?”

  He stared at Will for a moment then smiled. “Have you got the water switched over yet? I’d hate to start a fire.”

  Will’s face fell and he mumbled to himself as he picked up his tool satchel and walked away. “I think you hurt his feelings,” Roger quipped.

  “I think he knows that electricity scares me,” Hatcher shrugged. “You can’t see it coming.”

  “I think acrid smoke followed by fire would be a good clue.” Roger clapped the man on the back. “I hear you’re getting a fancy new television system. I also hear it gets all the channels. The front entrance, the walls, the rear of the addition…” He trailed off.

  Hatcher sighed and turned to him. “About that.”

  “Oh no,” Roger laughed, waving him off. “There’s no way you’re gonna talk me into—”

  He held a hand up to stop him. “I think I’m leaving.”

  Roger’s face fell. He studied the man to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. “Say again?”

  Hatcher nodded slowly. “Look, man, I gotta do something.” He put his hand on Roger’s shoulder and led him back into the house. “I need somebody in charge here while I’m gone.”

  “You’re leaving? For reals?”

  Hatcher nodded. “I can’t shake this feeling that…a good friend is in trouble—”

  “Where? I’ll go with you and—”

  “—Back at the park.” Hatcher shook his head. “And this is something I need to do myself.”

  Roger sat down quietly and stared away. “I’m not getting good vibes from this plan, bro.” He shook his head then looked up at him. “Dude, we’re just now starting to piece this place together, and we need our fearless leader here to oversee it all.”

  Hatcher leaned against the wall and eyed Roger carefully. “If it was Candy, what would you do?”

  Roger’s eyes widened. “You know what I’d do.”

  He nodded. “And that’s why I gotta do this.” He pushed off the wall and fell into the chair opposite. “I have to know. One way or the other.”

  Roger felt his mouth go dry and he fought the urge to yell. “Hatch…how many millions of acres is that park?�
�

  “I know.” He held his head in his hands and sighed. “But I have to try.”

  “The cure’s been out for a little bit now. What’s to keep your friend from making her way home?”

  He shrugged. “No idea.” He lifted his head and Roger noted the red forming around his eyes. “I can only go back to where I last saw her and pray that she’s still there.”

  “Why would she stay?” Roger threw his good hand in the air. “Even if she survived, why stay at the park?”

  “Look, she knows the stations, she knows where the emergency rations are stored. She has clothes there and water and…” He sighed and fell back in his chair. “I know it’s crazy.”

  “You know Vic is gonna flip shit, right?” Roger gave him a stern stare. “She’s going to expect me to stop you.”

  He shook his head, a slow smile forming. “As if you could.”

  “No shit.” He pointed to his shoulder. “If it weren’t for this bum wing and the laws of physics, I’d be unstoppable. But the fact remains there are real living people here who need you to run this place.”

  “Actually, no.” He came to his feet slowly and gave Roger a deadpan stare. “Between you and Will, I know that the people here will be taken care of. If Candy steps in and helps, you’ll all be better off anyway.”

  Roger jumped to his feet. “Bullshit.” He stepped in front of him. “I can’t let you do this.”

  Hatcher raised a brow at him. “You really gonna try to stop me?”

  “Hell no.” He stepped aside. “But I can say, ‘I can’t know that you’re gonna do this.’ You have to write a letter to Vic, and not let her know that I know.” He blew his breath out hard. “I might get to live if you do it that way.”