“You telling me you can keep this under your hat?”
He scoffed and turned away. “How soon are you wanting to leave?”
“As soon as I can pack a bag and supply a truck.”
Roger rubbed at his jaw. “You’re gonna have to travel light. And find something that gets good mileage. You can’t be stopping three times a day to siphon gas.”
“I’m not taking a motorcycle.”
“I was thinking more like a small, four wheel drive. Maybe a Subaru or something.”
“Then help me find one of those baby Jeeps.”
“You’re really gonna do this.” Roger stared at him. “You’re gonna drive all the way back up there just to see if you can find her.”
Hatcher placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “I have to try.”
“Here.” Carol slapped the printout on the table and Andre picked it up. “If I’m reading that right, there’s no viral load in the saliva.”
“What about the other samples?”
She shook her head. “They’re all returning negative.” She shrugged. “So far, anyway. There are a couple more that aren’t ready yet, but as of now…” She trailed off.
Broussard sighed and set the printout down. “We may have dodged a bullet.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “If they could have passed on this secondary rage virus…”
“I know.” She patted his shoulder then slid her hand down his back, rubbing. “It’s a huge weight off our shoulders.”
“Still.” He sat up and looked to her. “We can’t tell what percentage of the population is at risk.”
Randy Carlson appeared by his side and dropped a stack of folders on the table. “From what I can gather, none of them have any commonalities in their health history.”
“You’re positive?”
He fell into the chair next to him and nodded. “Other than childhood vaccinations, there’s nothing common between all of them.” He raised a brow at him. “And before you go chasing the vaccinations down a rabbit hole, consider that 99% of the American populace has had the same inoculations.”
Andre sat back and sighed. “Then it must be our treatment.” He looked up at Carol and shook his head. “There must have been an issue with the sterilization procedures—”
“Or maybe the damned thing mutated on its own,” she interrupted. “Regardless of the ‘how’ we have to deal with the now.”
“The more we scratch off the list of possibilities, the more it points to a mutation event.”
“And that was our initial assumption,” she replied.
He nodded slowly. “But that leaves us with the widest range of variables, as well.” He leaned back and stared at the subjects trapped in their cells. “How do we combat another mutation? And how do we deal with the possibility of yet another mutation?”
“First we isolate the virus. If we have to draw blood to do it, then we draw blood.” She groaned as she tried to imagine dealing up close with the infected. “Maybe we sedate one and strap them to an examination table?”
“Fine.” Broussard stood so quickly that he upended his chair. “We dive in and pray that the solution presents itself.” Carol opened her mouth to object as he turned and nodded to David O’Dell. “Prepare a tranq dart and have some of the soldiers standing by to subdue the subject.”
“You want to do this now?” Carol asked, failing at keeping her voice low.
He turned and gave her a stoic look. “No time like the present, n’est pas?”
“At least give us time to prepare the exam room,” Irene pleaded. “We have to set up the IV station, locate bindings…”
Broussard gave her a troubled look. “We’re not keeping the creature out here. We draw the blood and we seal the door. In and out. Simplicity.”
The researchers gave each other a confused stare. Carol stepped forward. “Shouldn’t we consider keeping the subject sedated and secured outside of the cell? We may need to run other tests and—”
“I’m not risking any more lives,” he stated flatly. “We get the blood, we get out.” He turned and nodded to Dr. O’Dell. “Now would be nice.”
“Well if it ain’t ‘Squatch,” Simon mocked as Trent approached the RV.
“Please don’t call me that.” He rested his hands along the top of the awning. “I know I’m big.”
“You oughta be playing defense for a Division One school,” Simon stated as he lowered himself into the folding chair. “To what do we owe the honor?”
Trent squirmed a bit then stepped forward. “The guys were talking…”
“Do I need to pack my shit and leave or get my gun and protect what’s mine?” His voice displayed no humor.
“Neither,” Trent stated as he stepped under the awning and sat atop a reinforced cooler. “They want to move their trailers down here closer to you.”
Simon gave him a confused stare. “What for?”
He shrugged. “They said they like you. Birds of a feather should look out for each other or some such.”
Simon shook his head. “No sense in making the others feel like we’re playing favorites.” He crossed his legs and fought to open the soda in his hand.
Trent reached across and took the bottle, twisting the cap off. “Look, Hammer has a dentist’s wife on one side and a city politician on the other. Jake and Tommy have granola eaters on either side of them and their new age liberal hippy bullshit is driving them nuts.”
Simon raised a brow at him. “What’s wrong with liberal hippies?” He cracked a grin. “I always got my best weed from hippies.”
Trent leaned forward. “They’d rather be around people…like themselves.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I know it sounds fucked up, but they finally found a kindred spirit and they just want to hang out more.”
“So let them hang out.” Simon took a pull from the bottle and belched loudly. “That doesn’t mean we have to start sleeping with each other.”
Trent nodded slightly and came to his feet. “Never mind.” He stepped out from under the awning. “I told them that you said you’d changed.” He glanced back at Simon and scoffed. “I bet you only rode on weekends and holidays anyway. You were probably an accountant before the world went to hell.”
Simon laughed out loud and nearly dropped his soda. “You really need to work on your attempts at reverse psychology, ‘Squatch.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed the younger man. “If they want to move down here, who am I to stop them?” He pointed the bottle at the younger man. “But seriously, what do they hope to accomplish?”
Trent glanced over his shoulder then back to Simon. “They’re sick of being here. Even Hammer said he’d risk his life to get back on the road.” He sighed and propped himself on the awning support again. “I even found a trike that he might could ride.”
Simon set the bottle on the ground by his feet. “You boys are wanting to grab bikes and hit the fuckin’ road again?” He shook his head and fought the urge to laugh. “Why?”
“Look around you, man. This ain’t their scene.”
“So what’s stopping them?” He came up out of his chair and stepped closer. “Seriously? They sit up here and wait out the end of the world and then I show up and suddenly they want to pop a squat on a bike and hit the open road again?” He shook his head. “Makes no sense, man.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“Bull.” Simon stepped back and picked up his soda. “They have it made up here. Hot and cold running water, shitters that flush, food, drink, plenty of company…” He nodded toward the other RVs. “And plenty of dentists’ wives to keep happy at night.”
Trent’s face fell. “Dude, she’s in her sixties.”
Simon shrugged. “So she’s experienced.” He sighed and took his seat again. “You’re gonna have to do better if you want me to give up this new rustic suburbia for a bunch of wannabes.”
Trent’s face hardened. “That’s just it, Simon. They aren’t wannabes.” He leaned clo
ser and narrowed his gaze. “You can claim you’ve changed all you want, but those guys remember you.” He lowered his voice and gave him a smile that looked more like a snarl. “They know who you are. They know the shit you’ve done.”
Simon gave him a deadpanned stare. “So?”
“So?” He pushed off the awning and stepped away. “So, they’re ready to get the fuck out of Dodge. And they want to join your club.”
Simon scoffed and eyed the big man. “Take a look around you, sport. I ain’t got no club. They’re all either dead…or changed sides.”
“So you’re just gonna sit there and grow fucking roots?”
Simon nodded. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
14
Hatcher packed the last of his goods into a duffel and stared at the mess spread out on the bed. “I must be fuckin’ nuts.” He picked through the meager food items and dropped the granola back into the box.
He turned and sat heavily on the bed, his hands working nervously as his mind spun in circles. “What the hell was I thinking?”
He stood suddenly and gripped the box, ready to take the few things back into the kitchen. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, the pale light from the window caught in the mirror. He studied the sullen and haunted stare of the man in the reflection. He dropped the box and stepped closer, his eyes locked on their own reflection.
“Give it up, bro. You ain’t getting any prettier.”
Hatcher stared into the looking glass then turned to Roger. “Find me a decent ride?”
“I got you a little Renegade. It will get you through mud and muck but don’t expect to go rock climbing.” Roger tossed him the keys. “It’s the Trailhawk version, so it’s a bit more rugged, but it’s still a Tonka toy.”
Hatcher watched him snatch the duffel from the bed and sling it over his shoulder. “How’s the wound?”
Roger looked at him sideways. “Healing. Itches like hell.” He raised a brow. “You really want to know or you having second thoughts?”
“I was just concerned.” He bent and picked up the box of food stuffs. “Can’t a guy ask how his friend is?”
“Not when you sit alone in the bedroom and repeat, ‘I must be nuckin’ futs’ to yourself all day.” He grinned and stepped into the hallway. “And for the record, Vic went with Huey and Dewey to look for stuff to stock her clinic with.”
“So she’s not around at all?”
“And if you hurry you can avoid her completely.” He twisted up his mouth. “But I’ve been thinking…”
“Oh boy, here it comes.” He set the box in the back of the dirt colored SUV. “When you start thinking, I know things are bad.”
Roger tossed the duffle in the back then turned and gave him a concerned look. “She’s your sister, right? I bet she was worried sick about you until you made it here alive.”
“Right on both.” He leaned against the garage door and waited for what was to come next.
“Don’t leave her a letter, Hatch. Sit down and talk with her. Let her know that this is something you gotta do.”
“So she can talk me out of it.”
Roger scoffed. “Could she?” He stepped to the old ping pong table along the wall and grabbed the sleeping bags, tossing them into the back of the tiny car. “I mean, seriously…if she could talk you into not going then that means you don’t really need to do this.” He grabbed the four man tent and tossed it in roughly.
“If you’re so keen on her making me stay, why are you packing my shit?”
Roger pulled the hatch shut and turned to face him. “Because I know she won’t be able to. She might try, but you owe her a face to face, man.” He shrugged. “Maybe even a hug goodbye.”
Hatcher groaned and pushed off the door then held his hand out. “Okay, bro. You win.” He took the other man’s hand and pulled him into a man-hug. “I’ll face the shrew.”
“Christ, Hatch,” Roger groaned. “Say something stupid like that and you might be stuck here forever, and I don’t want to have to dig the hole.”
Hatcher chuckled as he stepped inside and took a last look around. “I’m way faster than her.”
“You’d have to be or she would have beaten you to death when you were ten.” Roger sat at the dining room table. “Let’s hit the checklist.”
Hatcher sat down and gave him his attention. “Go.”
“Weapons?”
“Pistols and shotgun.”
Roger raised a brow. “No rifle?”
Hatcher shook his head. “If I can’t hit it with a pistol, I don’t need to be shooting at it. What else?”
“Ammo.”
“Loaded.”
Roger ticked off another finger. “Food and water?”
“Loaded, along with water purifiers and fire making stuff.”
“Fresh clothes? Foot powder?”
“Check and check.”
Roger smiled at him. “Road music?”
Hatcher grinned back and pulled a USB drive from his shirt pocket. “All the best driving bands.”
Roger raised a brow at him. “The best?”
“Boston, Journey, Styx, ELO—”
“Dude, where’s the metal? You gotta have metal for night driving.”
Hatcher smirked at him. “You didn’t let me finish.” He tucked the USB drive back into his shirt pocket. “There’s some Black Sabbath in there. A bit of Ozzy and some Zeppelin.”
Roger sat back and narrowed his gaze. “If I took that from you and stuck it in a computer, I’m not gonna see shit like Britney Spears or some boy band, am I?”
Hatcher leaned forward, his face hardened. “Don’t make me shoot you before I leave.”
Roger smirked. “Good.” He pushed up from his chair. “How are you for road munchies?”
Hatcher gave him a blank stare. “I don’t usually—”
“Dude. You gotta have jerky and pork rinds for road trips.”
“Jerky, I can do. I’ll pass on the pork rinds.” He held his hand up to cut him off. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”
Roger went back out to the little Jeep and pulled the passenger door open. He grabbed the two bags of pork rinds out then slammed the door. “Pepper jerky was all I could find.” He gave him a sly grin. “I stopped on the way back from the car lot and loaded up for ya.”
Hatcher walked around the vehicle and shook his head. “And this is the toughest one you could come up with?”
“Trailhawk, baby.” Roger slapped the top and grinned at him. “Thirty miles a gallon. And yes, it’s got a full tank. I saw to it myself.”
Hatcher walked back around the Renegade and held his hand out. “Thanks for understanding.”
“If it was Candy, nobody could stop me.” Roger’s head turned and he watched as Wally and Hank pulled up to the house across the street. They both watched Vicky step out of the truck and stare at the strange car parked in the drive. Roger groaned. “Time to step to the plate brother.” He stepped away and gave him a mock salute. “I’ll see ya when you get back.”
Hatcher watched Vicky cross the road and set his jaw. “I think I’d rather sandpaper a badger’s ass wearing pork chop panties than do this….”
Irene rubbed at her eyes as Broussard and Carol stepped into the lab. “I’ve been going over these tests all night.” She glanced at her watch and then the clock on the wall. “Or was it all day?”
“Who can know anymore?” Broussard replied as he approached her. He bent low and scanned her notes. “These are all of the test results?”
She nodded, stifling a yawn. “Excuse me. Yes.” She reached for her coffee and downed it cold. “The blood sample I have is unlike anything I’ve ever worked with before.”
“How so?” Carol asked.
“It changes. Constantly.” She pointed to the different results. “Even isolated from the subject, the sample changes with each test.” She pushed her wheeled chair to the side and grabbed a stack of printouts. “I use an alkaline solution and the sample remains co
nstant. I use a strong base and it’s unchanged.” She looked to Broussard for answers. “I went so far as to test the reagents and they are all within specs.”
“This makes no sense.” He flipped through the results. “You worked all through the night and got…”
“Nothing,” she replied, stifling another yawn. “I am sorry, Dr. Broussard, but the sample portion I used…” She shrugged. “It’s like a living thing, fighting everything I try.”
“Blood can’t be alive,” Carol stated as she pulled the printouts from Andre’s hand. “It’s a collection of cells in a fluid serum that—”
“I am quite familiar with what blood is, Dr. Chaplain.” Irene crossed her arms and glared at the microscope.
Broussard held his hand up, getting their attention. “But blood is a collection of living things.” He turned to Carol and nodded. “Each cell is a viable organism.”
“They’re just cells, Andre.”
“Oui. But blood is so much more than just a fluid collection of cells; one may as well say we are but a collection of cells.” He sat down gently and stared at the subjects snapping at each other and swiping at the smooth acrylic cell walls. “This fluid is the primary source for nearly all medical testing; it contains infinite data.” He sat back and began to rock the chair as he continued staring.
“I’m not following you.”
“The blood is a soup with all kinds of things floating in it. Red blood cells, white blood cells, antibodies…and foreign contaminants.” He turned and gave her a smile. “The virus is fighting back using the body’s own immune system.”
“Through blood?” Carol asked.
“Oui. That is exactly what it is doing.” He spread the printouts out across the table and pointed. “Each of the reagents are designed to alter the blood…to destroy specific aspects in order to measure the changes.” He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “The mutated virus has caused the body to evolve. I would bet that there is a mutated lymphocyte the blood is reacting to, and adapting to the reagents we use to neutralize them.”
Carol groaned. “Great. The next step in human evolution is a feral cannibal.” She sat down heavily and sighed. “Perhaps they have a mineral deficiency? They’re lacking high velocity lead.”
Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 10