Caldera 10: Brave New World

by Stallcup, Heath

  “All in the same area?”

  She nodded. “Looked to happen about the same time, too.”

  Hatcher blew his breath out and peered into the shadows of the woods. “Head on a swivel, Rookie.”

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, her hand reaching out to grab his arm.

  “I’m thinking that they’d need at least ten people per buffalo to pull one down and kill it.” He turned and raised a brow at her. “Times seven carcasses. That’s at least seventy people.”

  Her eyes widened and realization struck her. “That’s a herd.”

  Hatcher nodded and reached to his saddle bag for a pair of binoculars. “If they haven’t been exposed to the cure yet, we could be rolling into a metric shit ton of trouble.”

  She swallowed hard and had to force herself to start breathing again. “Okay.” She pulled the chin strap of the helmet tighter and squared her shoulders. “But if they’re still Snappers, then odds are they’ll stay out of direct sunlight, right?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things.” He scanned the area then hung the binoculars around his neck. “Just stay alert.” He motioned her forward. “Lead on.”

  Missy kicked the ATV into gear and pulled away slowly, putting as much distance as she could between the two stands of trees and herself. She could almost feel the Snappers’ eyes on her as she drove the little off road vehicle around obstacles.

  Hatcher continued to follow her, unsure that she actually knew where she was going. After far too long of a ride, she slowed her ATV and pointed. “Just the other side of that ridge. The rainwater formed a gully-wash and that’s where I saw them.”

  He stared in the direction she pointed then turned to her. “What were you doing this far out?”

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “Exploring.” She shrugged slightly. “It’s been forever since the Snappers attacked and…” She sighed heavily. “I was going stir crazy locked up alone. I figured I’d do my job…rather, part of it anyway. I’d look for wildlife, patrol the park…just see what was out there.”

  Hatcher accelerated slowly, his eyes searching for signs that animals had been scavenging. Bones dragged away from the area or shards of clothing would have been an obvious sign. He scanned the sky for birds when the wind shifted. The stench of rot and decay struck him almost like a wall.

  “Holy shit.” He gagged and pulled his t-shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. “That must be it.”

  “Sorry,” she offered, fighting her own gag reflex. “The air is kinda heavy around here.”

  Hatcher dug through his bag of supplies and pulled out a small blue jar of Vicks. He dabbed a gob under his nose then handed her the jar. “It doesn’t mask all of it, but it helps.”

  She quickly applied a dab then slowly approached the area on her ATV. She turned the vehicle and pointed over the ridge. Hatcher approached and parked beside her, his eyes scanning the area below. “Good God. There must be hundreds of them.”

  Missy nodded. “And the predators won’t touch ‘em.” She looked to him with concern in her eyes. “Something tells me we should be worried, too.”

  The steel blast door swung open and Dr. Higgins rushed into the room, excitedly yelling and pointing. “See! I told you! And they aren’t even prepping the vice president.” He spun and gave General Green an “I told you so” look. “They should be shot.”

  Green rolled his eyes as he marched past the blathering man. He entered the acrylic walled laboratory and glared at Dr. Broussard. “Tell me he’s lying.”

  Broussard lowered the clipboard he held and slowly removed his reading glasses. “I’d love to, but I have no idea what he’s even talking about.”

  “He’s found the cure and he won’t—’

  General Green spun and pointed at Higgins. “Get him the hell out of here!” He spun back to Broussard before the soldiers grabbed Higgins’ arms and began to drag him backward, away from the lab.

  “The cure?” Broussard repeated. He slowly shook his head. “A treatment, perhaps, but I cannot say we have found a cure.”

  Senator Winegard spun around on the exam table and gave the general a hateful stare. “I’d really appreciate being allowed to my room, General.”

  “Not my call, ma’am,” General Green barked. He glanced at Broussard, a lone brow slowly raising. “Not a cure?” He glanced at the senator.

  Broussard shook his head. “Possibly a treatment, though.”

  Dr. Benedict stepped forward, “Forgive me, General…Green?” He read the man’s name tag. “It is far too early to tell if—”

  “Who the hell is this man and why is he inside my facility?” Green bellowed.

  Broussard stiffened and his jaw quivered slightly as his anger rose. “This is Dr. Benedict. A virologist from the university.” He shoved his reading glasses into his lab coat pocket and approached the general. “He agreed to assist us, and at this point, I’d take help from a base janitor if he knew what the hell he was talking about!”

  Carol stepped between the two men and gently pushed Andre back. “General, we’re attempting to reset their systems using a psychedelic that mimics the same—”

  “You’re doping them?” Green asked incredulously.

  Carol nodded. “Their systems create something similar. You might say that their anger and aggression is the result of…a bad trip.”

  Green rolled his eyes. “For the love of…” He spun a slow circle. “My men could have doped these mouth breathing sacks of shit!”

  Senator Winegard slid off of the exam table and squared up with the man. “You might watch what you say, General. These people found a way to bring me out of that…state.” She narrowed her eyes at him and thrust out her finger. “I am STILL a United States Senator.”

  Green stared down at the tiny woman. “You really think there’s still a United States?” His voice was low and soft. “Lady, the only government that exists right now is floating off shore in a Navy flotilla.”

  “Actually,” Broussard interrupted, holding his finger up to make a point. “They’ve docked. San Diego, I believe.”

  Green’s eyes widened with anger for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the woman before him. “As far as you’re concerned, I am the only government that exists now. This is my facility. I am God here.” He bent lower and glared at her. “The only reason they treated you is because you are considered disposable.”

  She went pale as she stared at the man. “That…that can’t be.” She glanced to Carol then Broussard. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

  Carol stepped closer. “I can assure you that we consider all life to be—”

  “Oh my god!” she cried. “It is true.” Her legs buckled under her and she fell to the floor.

  Broussard raised a brow at the general. “As I was trying to explain, this is only a treatment. We can’t know if it could be a cure or even a part of a cure.”

  Green’s eyes narrowed. “How soon?”

  “For?”

  “Before you’ll know if doping them up will cure them?” he barked.

  Broussard shrugged. “Perhaps a few days.”

  The general narrowed his gaze at the researchers then glanced down at the Senator weeping in the floor. “Clean up this mess.” He spun and marched out of the lab.

  Eddie stepped forward and watched as the general and his escorts left the area. “Okay...” He glanced at Broussard. “That went well.”

  Simon watched Lana sleep and gently ran his hand over her head. Stubble from her hair was growing out and he felt confident that soon she’d be sporting a thick mane once again.

  He pulled the covers back and gently rolled out of bed, stretching his arm as he sat on the edge of the mattress. He glanced at the pain pills and had to think hard about the last time he had to have one.

  He smirked to himself as he came to his feet and stumbled out to the living room. He reached toward the top of the closet and pulled down a small box. He set it out at the small dinette tab
le and spread out a towel.

  He gathered his weapons and laid them out. Knives to be sharpened, firearms to clean and lube; he loved sharpening knives. It gave his mind time to wander as his body went through the motions.

  He smeared a small dab of oil on the whetstone and began going through the motions. The slick sound of steel on novaculite was like a lullaby to his conscious mind.

  He remembered how he used to be. How violence was his main aphrodisiac. Mix in a little alcohol and he considered it to be a perfect day.

  He scoffed at the thought. There was never such a thing as “a little” alcohol with him.

  He stopped the motion of sharpening and stared off into space. “How long has it been since I’ve actually had a drink?” He honestly couldn’t remember. He shrugged and went back to the task at hand.

  How could he have changed so much? He was a different man; he felt it. He could remember hearing tales of people with average to below average intelligence becoming geniuses after a traumatic injury to the head. One guy was shot straight through the noodle and became a math genius. The shit just came to him; it was like he was plugged into some hidden, ancient archive of mathematical knowledge.

  He’d also heard that people who were truly psychotic would be irreversibly changed with a frontal lobotomy. The quacks would take an ice pick and slide it into the orbital cavity. Tap it with a hammer and then scramble the eggs in the front of their head. These bloodthirsty, murdering, raping bastards would come out of the procedure with a slight headache but also be as calm as a Sunday School Teacher. Something about messing up the wiring in the front of the brain changed them.

  He stopped dragging the knife across the stone and stared off again. “Did the Rager virus do a lobotomy on me?”

  Since there was no cosmic voice answering him, he went back to the task at hand. He held up a piece of paper and the Bowie knife slid through it as if it weren’t even there.

  He set the knife aside and picked up the military Ka-Bar. As he began to drag it across the stone, his mind wandered again.

  What of Lana? Had she been a quiet, mousy woman before the virus got hold of her? Was she slowly changing places with who he used to be?

  So many questions, not enough answers.

  Simon nearly sliced his thumb when she appeared on the other side of the table. “You’re sure lost in thought.”

  He nodded weakly and went back to sharpening. “Just readying my weapons.” He glanced up at her. “I have a gut feeling that Trent may try something stupid.”

  “Today?” She seemed almost excited at the idea.

  He shrugged. “Soon enough.”

  She huffed as she stood from the table. “You sound as though you don’t want him to attack.”

  Simon looked up at her and shook his head. “There are so few people left in the world.” He set the knife down and crossed his arms. “We should be finding ways of keeping as many of us alive as we can, not looking forward to killing them.”

  She stood frozen in the kitchen, the coffee pot shaking in her hand. “You’re not who I thought you were, Simon.”

  He watched her pour the water into the machine then turn it on. He had to agree with her. “I tried to tell you…I’ve changed.”

  She barely turned, an evil glint in her eye. “Not for the better.”

  27

  Hatcher tried to breathe through his mouth as he walked around and between the bodies laid out in the wash. Most still had some semblance of clothing clinging to their bloated and gas filled bodies. Most were so swollen and their skin so dark that he couldn’t make out any recognizable features.

  “I’m only checking the females,” Missy called from the other side.

  Hatcher slowly shook his head, fighting the urge to throw up. “A lot of them—I can’t tell if they were a man or woman.”

  Missy stood upright, her hands planted on her hips. “I don’t know about you, but I had to have a college degree to get this job.” She smiled at him under the bandana tied to her face. “They taught me the difference between boys and girls in biology.”

  He shot her a disapproving look that she totally dismissed as she chuckled to herself. “Seriously, I’m not seeing anything that…” He paused and stepped back, his head shaking. “I see part of a uniform, but…”

  Missy stood up and looked in the area where he was staring. “That’s a dude.” She squinted slightly and shook her head. “That’s also a Sheriff’s uniform.”

  Hatcher stepped back and swatted at the few flies that swarmed the area. “They’re the same color, so…” He looked to her again. “Is it just me or are there a heck of a lot less flies than what you’d expect?”

  She nodded. “I noticed that the last time I was here. There are a few flies, but no maggots.”

  Hatcher climbed up and away from the bodies. “This makes no sense. No scavengers, no maggots… just a handful of flies…and they don’t seem to be on the bodies themselves.”

  Missy shrugged. “Maybe they know something we don’t.” She climbed up the other side of the gully and pulled her bandana down. “I’m not seeing any females wearing a ranger uniform.”

  Hatcher slapped the dirt from his hands as he walked around to her side. “I didn’t either.”

  She smiled at him, excitement in her eyes. “That’s good though, right? That means she could still be alive.”

  Hatcher nodded, but in his heart he found no joy. “You’d think she’d…I dunno. Make her way back to the station or something.”

  “Why?” Missy asked as they made their way back to the ATV’s. “I mean, you asked me why I didn’t go home. I had nothing. What about her? Would she have maybe gone home?”

  Hatcher sighed as he straddled the machine. “I have no idea. I know that she grew up in Texas, but I don’t know if she had any family still there.”

  Missy whistled low. “You think this park is big? Texas is huge.”

  Hatcher nodded in agreement. “I don’t even remember what town she said she was from.” He suddenly felt like a terrible person for not committing every tiny detail of the woman’s life to memory.

  Missy gave him a sad smile. “Don’t give up hope just yet.” She started the ATV and leaned on the handle bars. “We can go back and you can check her file. It probably says in there.”

  He nodded absently, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. “Maybe.”

  She leaned toward him, her eyes searching his. “What is it? You seem distracted.”

  He glanced at her then shrugged. “I’m just thinking. She could be out there. Anywhere.” Then he sat back and gave her a confused look. “And why would the Zulus stack bodies out here?”

  Missy shrugged. “Why does a dog eat cat shit?” She gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe this is just in their nature.”

  She kicked the ATV into gear and pulled away. Hatcher watched her for a moment and shook his head. “Just like Mitch.”

  “It feels like forever.” Senator Winegard crossed her arms and glared at Tammy. “I don’t see why I can’t just go and put on some of my own clothes.”

  “In due time, Senator,” Tammy repeated for the umpteenth time.

  She leaned forward and whispered, “They didn’t even give me underwear.” She leaned back and scowled. “Can you imagine going commando in something like this?” She tugged at the cotton material.

  Tammy shook her head. “No, ma’am, I can’t.”

  David came into the lab and Tammy sighed. “Finally.”

  David smiled as he took the clipboard from her. “Don’t get too excited. The food in the cafeteria isn’t so great. I think they’re running out of stuff to prepare.”

  “No.” Tammy turned and gave him a steely stare. “I just couldn’t wait for a break from her.” She pointed to the woman on the exam table. “She’s driving me nuts with her petty questions and arrogant attitude.”

  David nodded knowingly. “Go. Eat. Relax.” He tapped his chest. “I got this.”

  As soon as Tammy walked out,
the senator cornered David. “Would it really hurt anything if I went to my room and changed clothes?”

  He chose to ignore her.

  She huffed then tugged on his sleeve. “Excuse me.”

  David turned and gave her a bored stare. “Look, we’re about to test the treatment on some of your friends over there. If it works, then trust me, you’ll be the FIRST to get to go to your room and do whatever you want. But for now, you listen to Dr. Broussard.”

  She groaned as she turned around and lay out on the exam table again. “It’s so boring here.” She sat up suddenly. “And my ass is chafing in these…potato sacks that they call clothes!”

  “We may have a cream for that,” David muttered as he checked the equipment. His head popped up as Broussard entered the lab.

  “Are we ready?”

  David handed him the clipboard. “The vapor levels are set. All we need is for somebody to press the button.”

  “Very well.” Broussard went down the checklist then looked for Carol. “Where is Dr. Chaplain?”

  “She’s getting a quick bite before we begin. She’s afraid she won’t get a chance to eat again for a while.”

  Broussard nodded. “Smart move.”

  “What are you about to do?” Winegard asked, sliding to the edge of the table.

  “We are about to introduce a similar dose of the psychedelics to your friends over there.”

  Her eyes widened. “ALL of them?”

  He shook his head. “Non. Just a few.” He looked around the lab and made sure that the equipment was ready. “If the aerosol works, we’ll have a viable treatment and possibly a way to introduce it to others.” He pointed to the far wall. “The ones still out there.”

  Her face lit up. “So you do think this is a cure.”

  He shook his head slightly. “We have to verify the results. If it works, and if the subjects remain stable, and if—”

  “But you’re thinking I’m cured.” A slow smile began to cross her features.

  Broussard sighed as he lowered the clipboard. “I am thinking that if you begin to slip back to your former state, we will have ample time to reintroduce the cocktail to your system. As of now, it is all a waiting game.”