She sighed animatedly and crossed her arms. “Hurry up and wait.” She glared at him. “You should have been in the military yourself.”
Broussard shuddered. “I would not wish such a thing on anybody.” He turned to David. “You may press your button, Dr. O’Dell.”
Simon slowly paced the campground. He fought the urge to stare into the gloom and shadows of the trees as the sun began to set. He knew that the bikers were scattered between the main road and the campground. Most of them were ex-military and were pretty damned good at concealing themselves.
He gripped the radio tighter, praying that Trent and his goons were smart enough to simply leave well enough alone. He knew that they wouldn’t, but he prayed that they would.
The other campers had already called it a night and headed back into their trailers or RVs. The adrenaline pumping through Simon prevented any possibility of sleep.
He glanced at the moon then at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning. He knew that if Trent was going to make his move, it would be sometime between midnight and four.
How did he know? Because that’s what he would have done when he was angry and stupid. And Trent reminded him a lot of himself before the Rager virus changed him.
Simon scoffed at the idea that popped into his head. Did the Rager virus make me into a genius as well? Was I an idiot before…and now I’m smarter?
The radio in his hand clicked. He brought it closer to his ear and listened. Somebody keyed the mic again, sending a short bout of static to him in a silent message.
Simon waited then triggered the mic himself.
Their code was simple. If you spot anybody, key the mic. Once Simon keyed it back, each of the men were to key a certain number of times, letting him know which direction the threat was coming from.
Simon listened and heard three bouts of static. He scoffed again. The idiot was coming up the main dirt road.
Why not? It was the shortest and easiest path.
He keyed his radio again, acknowledging the message then turned the radio off. He opened the door to his RV, keeping the lights off. Shit was about to get real. Again.
This time, he was prepared.
28
Missy slowed the ATV and veered from the path they had taken to get to the burial grounds. She pointed ahead to a stand of trees jutting into a clearing. “It’s just the other side of those trees.”
Hatcher nodded and followed her. He wanted to see where the bison had been felled. He didn’t know why, but his gut told him that he needed to check out the kill zone.
She slowed the ATV and shut off the engine, coasting the short way down the hill and to the edge of the treeline. “Just over there.”
She stepped off of the ATV and pulled the helmet from her head. She hung it on the handlebars and stretched her lower back as he drove past her and closer to the piles of bones.
Hatcher slid from the saddle of the four wheeler and walked amongst the remains. “All of this?” He waved his arm toward the scattered bones.
She nodded as she walked toward him. “Some of the bones have been carried off by scavengers.” She paused and scratched at her head. “They’ll drag off the leftovers from a Snapper kill, but not a Snapper itself? Weird.”
Hatcher shrugged. He raised his voice so that she could hear. “Must be a scent they don’t like.” He walked slowly into the mass of bones and paused to try to picture the attack. “I’m thinking they were grazing in this clearing and the Zulus…er, the Snappers tried to corner them.”
She stood across from him and shrugged. “I’m not privy to their tactics, sorry.”
Hatcher shook his head as he stared at the scene. “It’s not making sense.” He pointed to the stand of trees. “Those wouldn’t stop full grown buffalo from charging through the woods.”
She tried to imagine a spooked herd of bison and sighed. “Maybe a handful chased them down here and the rest were waiting in the trees?”
“Maybe.”
“What difference does it make now?” she asked.
Hatcher leaned against a tree and kicked at the bones near his feet. “I’m not sure.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and sighed. “Those bodies up there didn’t seem that old. I mean, yeah, they were ripe, but there wasn’t much decay.”
She nodded slowly. “So, you’re thinking that some of them were part of the crew that did this?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. Or there’s another crew that is policing the area and gathering the dead.”
“But you said there was a cure out now, right?”
He nodded slowly. “If they were exposed to it. I know my people got sore throats really bad and—”
“Was that a couple of weeks ago? Like a really bad strep throat?”
He nodded. “Did you get it?”
She nodded, a slow smile forming. “And I thought it was really weird because I remember from micro that lone people rarely get sick. Colds and strep and the like are spread from person to person. And since I was alone, it kind of freaked me out.”
“Hmm.” Hatcher bent to pick up a bone. “So the cure came through this area.”
She turned back for the ATV. “Hold on a second. My journal has the exact date.” She trotted back up the hill towards the four wheeler and Hatcher walked further down the hill, counting the bison remains. “It looks like there were—”
A shrill scream broke the quiet and both rangers turned, looking for the source. Hatcher felt his blood run cold as a wild man burst from the stand of trees across the clearing and screamed again, his focus on Missy.
The man took off at high speed, his hands held straight down as his body jerked across the rough terrain. Hatcher’s eyes slipped up the hill toward Missy and saw her frozen in fear as the man ran at her, screaming.
“Son of a bitch!” He darted for his ATV and grabbed the 30.30, pulling it from the leather scabbard and quickly chambering a round. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and sighted down its length.
He forced his body to calm down and tried to lead the charging wild man. He squeezed the trigger and watched as a plume of dirt shot up to the man’s right, indicating he’d led him too far. He quickly chambered another round and adjusted his aim.
He had to force himself not to panic as he led the charging man again and squeezed off another round. The plume of dirt was behind the charging form and Hatcher cursed as he chambered a third round.
He glanced toward Missy and saw her backing up, her hand bringing up her own weapon. She disappeared behind the tip of the treeline and Hatcher focused his attention on the man once more. With his peripheral vision he could see that he was quickly closing on Missy’s last known position and in just a moment the trees would block his line of sight.
Hatcher focused down the length of the rifle again and loosed the third shot, quickly chambering a fourth round and firing wildly at the advancing form before the trees blocked the carnage from his sight.
He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he heard three rapid fire shots and a blood curdling scream.
He dropped the rifle and ran for the edge of the treeline for all he was worth as time slowed to a crawl.
“They’re responding well.” Randy stated as he walked between the acrylic cells. “We might be able to remove them sooner if they continue.”
Broussard paced the lab, rubbing at his jaw as he tried to calculate in his head the effective aerosolized dose. “I don’t want to give them any more than we absolutely have to.”
Carol rubbed at her eyes and shook her head to stay awake, fighting back a yawn. “Sorry. Full tummy.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “We can increase the dosage if you think it’s—”
“No,” he cut her off. “By calculating their respiration rates and the volume of the cells, their dosages should be similar, if not exactly the same, as what Ms. Winegard’s was. The variable we must deal with is the absorption rate between an aerosol dosage versus a direct injection.” He rubbed at his neck and grimace
d. “I never thought I would wish that I had experimented with illicit drugs in my youth.”
Carol placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a calming smile. “If we have to up their dosage, so be it.” She bent in closer and lowered her voice, “I’m not holding you to the caveat I placed earlier. You don’t have to wait for the drugs to leave their system before upping the dosage.” She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “We know now that you were correct.”
He sighed and lowered his head. “Forgive me, cherie, but that is not what I most worry about.” He pushed away from the monitor and stretched his neck. “I worry that I may be giving them too much, since it is absorbed through the nasal passages, the mucosa and the lungs.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“Hey, where’d the pain in the ass go?” Tammy asked, pointing to the examination table.
All eyes turned and gave her a confused look. Carol stepped toward the door and looked at the lone guard standing by the steel blast door. “She couldn’t have left. Could she?”
Broussard exited the lab and gently approached the armed soldier. “Did the subject…er,…senator leave here?”
The soldier gave him a confused look. “A few minutes ago. She said that you okayed her return to quarters. My partner escorted her to her old room so she could change.”
Broussard rolled his eyes. “She was not permitted to leave yet.” He lowered his head and held a hand up. “It’s not your fault, nor your friend’s. I should have watched her more closely.” He looked up and sighed. “Could you have her returned at once please?”
The guard nodded and reached for his radio. As he spoke into the other end, Broussard returned to the lab. “Sacré bleu!” He stormed into the lab and had to force his blood pressure down. “These people and their notion of entitlement…”
The soldier appeared in the doorway of the lab. “Sir, they’re returning her now.” He seemed to flush a bit as he spoke. “She insisted on changing clothes.”
“Merci.” Broussard turned back to the researchers. “If I were less professional, I would say that we needed to increase our messiness in the lab to soil her precious clothing…but I am not.”
Carol chuckled as she patted his shoulder. “Too bad you’re sleeping with a total klutz.” She winked at him. “I wonder how iodine solution would work with her woven silk Versace?”
“Dr. Broussard!” Randy called, pointing to a cell. “He’s coming around.”
All eyes turned to the man in the plastic prison; he had his hands pressed to the wall, his eyes wide with wonder. “Can somebody help me, please?”
Broussard nodded to Dr. Carlson and he opened the door of the acrylic cell. “Easy now.” Randy said as the man stepped down from the raised gurney.
The man stepped away from the other cells and held his hands out as if somebody had just thrown a shit slushee at him. “Oh my god…is this blood?” He gagged as his own stench hit him then looked to the researchers. “Is this shit?”
The click of heels across the concrete floor caught Randy’s attention and he spun to see Senator Winegard marching toward the soiled man. Before anybody realized what she was doing, she raised her hand and pointed a pistol at the man, firing as she walked.
Randy ducked to the side, using the cells as cover. The filth covered man buckled where he stood as red blossoms appeared across his chest and midsection. The crazed woman continued firing until she stood directly over him, clicking the pistol on spent cartridges.
She seemed genuinely surprised as the soldier tackled her to the concrete floor.
Simon sat quietly at the dinette as a shadow appeared across the windows of his RV. Show time.
He slipped from the chair and held Hammer’s gun at his side. The large man seemed more than eager to loan the suppressed pistol to him. He claimed that it was as quiet as a duck fart, and Simon hoped that he wasn’t exaggerating too much as he cocked the weapon.
He could hear the door to the RV rattle slightly then quiet as the would-be intruder removed his lock picking tools. A moment later, he heard the light scratching at the metal door knob as it was being picked.
Simon side stepped and clung to the wall of the RV. As the door knob twisted and opened slowly, he brought the pistol up and held it at about mid abdomen. He wanted Trent to suffer before he died.
A dark figure stepped into the RV and Simon squeezed the trigger three times.
True to his word, Hammer’s pistol barely made a ‘pfft’ sound as the subsonic ammunition exited the barrel and shredded Jake’s liver.
If he’d been as tall as Trent, his small intestines would be Swiss cheese, but alas, the shorter man would bleed out more quickly as his liver spewed nearly black blood.
Jake gave him a surprised stare, his mouth opening and closing rapidly as he stumbled back out of the door and fell to the ground, his hands grasping at his ruined midsection.
Simon stepped out of the RV and squatted next to Jake. “Where’s Trent?”
Jake’s jaw quivered slightly and he tried to form words, but the sheer surprise of the attack left him speechless.
Simon sighed and bent lower. “This is your last chance, shitstain. Where’s Trent? Where’s Tommy?”
Jake swallowed and coughed, a red spray erupting from his mouth. “Tommy is…” His hand pulled away from his midsection and pointed to the edge of the camp. “In the trees. Waiting.”
“And Trent?”
Jake’s eyes glassed over and his head fell back. Simon sighed and glanced towards the trees. “Maybe Tommy will live long enough to tell me.”
He bent low and rolled under the RV, coming up on the other side. He rubbed at his wounded arm and winced as he walked around the circle of travel trailers.
The moon was low now, and Simon knew that there would be little light for him to find Tommy. However, that same low light made it harder for Tommy to spot him coming, too.
He bent low as he entered the trees and paused every few steps to listen. He knew that Trent would be nearly impossible to get the drop on, but Tommy was as stupid as Jake.
True to his nature, a cough in the darkness pointed Simon in the right direction and he pressed on. He all but crawled towards the noise and nearly ran into Tommy hunkered behind a large pine tree.
“Come on, Jake. Drag his ass out here so we can go.”
Simon stood behind Tommy and pressed the suppressor to the back of his head. “Jake won’t be joining us.” Tommy groaned and held his hands out in surrender as Simon dragged him to his feet. “You have one chance to tell me where Trent is.”
Tommy swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “He’s at the bottom of the hill. Near the roadblock.”
“Where at?”
Tommy’s voice cracked as he spoke. “As you’re going down, he’ll be on the right side, in the bushes. He’s waiting for us to bring you down.”
Simon inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Thank you.”
Tommy’s breath shuddered as he seemed to wither in the shadows. “You gonna let me live?”
Simon smiled. “Of course. You answered my question, didn’t you?”
Tommy visibly relaxed, lowering his hands slightly. “Thank god.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the trunk of the tree.
“I promise, I will leave you be for the rest of your life.” Simon stated solemnly. He raised the pistol and fired two rounds into the back of Tommy’s head. “Short though it may be.”
He turned and stared down the hill towards the roadblock. “I know this is a trap.”
“It would have been,” Trent replied.
Simon stiffened and tightened his grip on the pistol. “So, you lied to the idiots.”
“Of course,” Trent replied. “How about you give me that pea shooter of yours.”
Simon shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “In the immortal words of Charlton Heston…from my cold dead hands.”
“Deal.”
Lana
stared at Jake’s bloody form and had to press her thighs together as her naughty bits tingled. She could feel her nipples stiffen and knew it wasn’t from the chill of the night air.
She stepped down from the RV and smiled as she looked into his dead eyes, staring upward to an unfeeling skyline. Quiet like a ninja. You go, baby.
She slowly stood and peered into the darkness, wishing she could watch as Simon offed the others. She reached up absently and squeezed her breasts as she imagined what her lover was doing to them.
The muffled gunshot that echoed through the woods snapped her head around and her eyes widened as her mind screamed at her: He had a silencer!
She reached inside the RV and wrapped her nimble fingers around the stock of the shotgun. She pulled it free, jerked the gun, and racked a round into the chamber. “I’m coming baby—hold on!”
From the desk of Heath Stallcup
From the desk of Heath Stallcup
A personal note-
Thank you so much for investing your time in reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment and leave a review. I realize that it may be an inconvenience, but reviews mean the world to authors…
Also, I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at my blog: http://heathstallcup.com/ or via email at [email protected]
Feel free to check out my Facebook page for information on upcoming releases: https://www.facebook.com/heathstallcup find me on Twitter at @HeathStallcup, Goodreads or via my Author Page at Amazon.
About the Author
Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma in his tween years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, SC and Bangor, WA shortly after junior college. After his second tour he attended East Central University where he obtained BS degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local Sheriff's Office. He still lives in the small township of Tupelo, Oklahoma with his wife. He steals time to write between household duties, going to ballgames, being a grandfather and the pet of numerous animals that have taken over his home. Visit him at heathstallcup.com or Facebook.com for news of his upcoming releases.
Caldera 10: Brave New World Page 21