Date: 2017-12-26 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves scattered. Clinging to life in clusters, hiding from the infected and scavenging from the remnants of humanity, life has evolved to mere survival. The United States government has attempted to reestablish itself in the last safe place on earth…an offshore flotilla of naval vessels. The last of the CDC’s disease researchers work tirelessly to find a cure, but the virus keeps mutating. They need the original strain from Yellowstone. Only one man knows the park well enough to escort the military to
Publisher: DevilDog Press
Rights: Copyright 2017 Heath Stallcup. All rights reserved.

Caldera Book 3

Return To Yellowstone

Heath Stallcup

Copyright © 2017 by Heath Stallcup

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Rob M. Miller

Cover by Jeffrey Kosh

Created with Vellum

To both of my girls.

You both love zombie stories and this is a different twist on the genre for you.

It may not be what you’re used to, but if the ‘zombie apocalypse’ ever really does come, it most likely will be some kind of rage virus versus the slow, shambling, walking dead.

Rule #1: Cardio…

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Caldera The Series

About the Author

Also by Heath Stallcup

Also From DevilDog press

Chapter 1

The camouflaged figure slowly approached in the darkness, skirting the buildings and staying low as it moved. Scurrying along the edges of buildings and using low brush as cover when it moved, it hurriedly maneuvered around abandoned cars and smoldering piles of detritus, then slipped in behind some clinging vines. A gloved hand banged on the heavy steel door and stepped gingerly in front of the aperture as a peephole slid open and guarded eyes took in the figure.

“Password.” The voice was low and gruff, muffled through the thick steel.

“Let me in, dammit,” the figure responded. “I may have picked up a tail.”

“Then give me the friggin’ password.”

“Albatross. There. Are you happy now?” The figure kept glancing over its shoulder as the bolt to the steel door was slid and the rusty hinges screeched in protest with the opening. Pushing against the door to speed things up, the figure slipped inside and helped push the door shut. When the bolt was pushed back into the locked position, the figure reached up and pulled the camouflaged hood from its head. “Took your sweet-assed time,” the dark-haired man said.

“Maybe during your next go you’ll give me the password instead of attitude, Hatcher.” The much larger guard looked down on the man, a crossbow held in his meaty hands.

“Password. Seriously? Who’s boneheaded idea was that? For crying out loud, you know me.” Daniel Hatcher pulled the camo poncho off and tossed it aside, the bag draped over his shoulders shifted with the action.

“If I recall, it was your idea, smart guy.” The guard shot him a smirk and leaned against the steel door. “Maybe you should rethink your own rules if you don’t like them.”

Hatcher gave him a blank stare before shaking his head and walking deeper into the ruins of the old warehouse. People milled about inside the shadows, doing their best to keep their noise level to a minimum. Experience had taught that excess noise could attract the others and the last thing any of them wanted was another confrontation.

In the months since the virus was released on the unsuspecting people, more than three fourths of the earth’s population had been killed, consumed, or converted. At least, that was the best estimate before the infrastructure finally collapsed, and everything was thrown back into the Stone Age. Things people once took for granted were now a luxury. Clean water, readily available food sources, health care of any sort, fuel, electricity, nearly all of the services people had come to depend on were now so rare that mankind was in a state of war. Not only was he fighting the viral zombies known as Zulus or simply the others, but he also had to fight his fellow man just for the basics to stay alive.

Hatcher walked through the makeshift hallways and distributed some of the foodstuffs he had gathered during his trip that night. He always tried to give a little extra to those with small children, and one couple was in dire need of formula. That was the only reason he chanced the others this night. Due to the lack of food lately, the mother, who had been breastfeeding, had dried up. Her only source of nourishment for her baby girl was gone. They had tried some powdered milk, but it just wasn’t cutting it. Hatcher knew the area better than most, so he volunteered to go out and try to find something they could use. He lucked out when one of the houses ventured into had three plastic baby bottles, still in the packaging, and four unopened packages of powdered formula. He dug through the cabinets and found some glass jars of baby food as well. He had no idea if the baby could handle such fare, but if not now, very soon she would. He’d dumped it all into one of the burlap potato sacks tied around his neck, and filled the other with whatever canned goods he could find in the other homes. All said, it was a good haul.

As he stepped into the quiet office the small family now called home, he placed the sack gently on the floor. “I got lucky tonight.” He winked at the young mother who sat on the floor, rocking the baby. “Just remember to boil the water before you make formula, okay?”

The young man who sat beside the two, crawled to Hatcher’s side and nearly fell over when he saw the goods Daniel had brought. “Where in the world did you find this stuff?”

“A house a few blocks from here. There were toys in the yard, so I chanced it.” He began to hand the stuff over, and in the pale candlelight, Hatcher noticed tears running down the young man’s face.

As Daniel turned to leave, the young father pulled him into an awkward embrace and whispered in his ear, “Bless you.”

Hatcher patted the man’s shoulder. “Just keep taking care of them. We’ll get through this.”

He stepped out of the office and into the hallway once more. Although there was that tiny part of himself that truly wanted to believe they could survive this outbreak, the bigger part felt that homo sapiens were now on the endangered species list.

Candice Olson sat atop the warehouse near where the vines had reached the roof. She constantly scanned the area around the building looking for anything moving below. In the darkness, she used thermal view, and after the long months following the outbreak, had figured out the difference in the heat signatures of an infected and a non-infected. Although she knew that Hatch was back, she had never seen him approach, nor did she hear anything until the large steel door slammed shut. She smiled, knowing he was safe and back inside. It was hard enough being out and about with the others, but at night, it just seemed worse. They had a bad habit of showing up out of nowhere and in large numbers.

In recent history, the others had begun forming up in packs, much like wild dogs. She supposed that hunting in numbers increased the chances of a meal. She had once had the misfortune of seeing what they did to a person they made a meal out of. Usually, nothing was left but a few bones, and even those had scrapes across them from teeth. She involuntarily shuddered at the thought and pulled her jacket in tighter.

Hearing a crashing sound in the distance, Candy hunkered close to the wall and peered over the edge with the thermal binoculars. She scanned the area and heard a similar sound again. It was off to her right, in the trees where she couldn’t make out anything. Every now and then a flash of color would show up moving quickly through the trunks, but she couldn’t make out any discernible shapes. She heard another clanging, crashing sound and watched as two people burst from the tree line and bolted across the warehouse parking area. As soon as they were in the clearing of the lot, heat signatures from all sides began pouring out and rushing toward the pair.

Candy reached for her belt and pulled her radio. “We have incoming!” she whispered loudly. “They’re being chased by Zulus.”

“Are they hot?” came the static-filled reply.

“Negative.” Candy continued to watch through the thermal binoculars as the pair ran in the general direction of the warehouse. “They’re headed toward us.”

“Wait one.” The radio hissed and crackled with the reply.

“They don’t have one!” she nearly yelled as she followed the frantic pair.

With the howls of the pursuers and the screams in the distance, Candy never heard the steel door being opened, nor did she hear the calls to the running couple, but she watched as they suddenly changed course and began running toward the warehouse entrance. She sighed inwardly and reached for her rifle. Wally had fitted the barrel with a suppressor to keep noise to a minimum, and she levelled the weapon across the edge of the building, sighting in on the running figures below. There wasn’t a lot of moonlight, but she could see well enough to take out the lead runner. She took a bead on the next attacker and dropped it as well. She purposely skipped the next one. It was obviously a child before it had been turned and she still couldn’t bring herself to shoot a child, even though they were just as dangerous as the adult Zulus.

She continued firing until she emptied the magazine, then slipped back behind the edge of the roof and waited, hoping the others would either lose interest and leave, or hunt elsewhere. Moments later, she heard banging on the metal door below and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what would be asked of her if they didn’t stop soon, and she didn’t want to do it. She had spotted children in the crazed crowd.

It didn’t take long for the radio to bark back to life. “Drop the heat on them.” Candy lowered her head and could feel the moisture threatening to escape as she debated telling the radio voice to go to hell. Instead, she stood and picked up one of the Molotov cocktails scattered about the roof and lit the rag hanging out the top. As she walked to the edge of the building, she looked down at the growing number of Zulus packed around the door and let the flaming bottle slip from her fingers. She turned her face at the last moment to not have to see what happened next. She knew from prior experience.

The wave of heat that climbed the wall washed over her and she heard the screams from the creatures below. She didn’t need the thermal binoculars to see the flaming creatures as they ran into the night, setting some of the dry grass and smaller tinder afire as they ran from the source of their pain. As the screaming and pounding faded from her hearing, Candy chanced a glance over the edge. She nearly lost her supper when she saw the lone scorched figure laying prone on the ground by the door, parts of its body still aflame, crushed by the larger creatures in their haste to escape the fire. It was one of the children.

Denny Wallace stood by the steel door as the pair ran through the opening and helped the guard slam the door shut behind them, Zulus beating on the metal as soon as the bolt was thrown. “What the hell were you doing out there at night?”

The pair collapsed to the floor, sucking in air as they tried to catch their breath. The male counterpart tried to meet his eyes, but quickly turned away. Between ragged gasps, he answered, “Scrounging for food.”

The female clung to him for dear life, her eyes jumping from face to face as she took in her surroundings. Denny shook his head in disgust as he assessed the pair lying on the concrete floor. “We could have lost the entire compound because of you two.” He looked up and hooked a chin at somebody in the shadows. “Get these two to quarantine. Check every inch of them.”

The male jerked his head up in surprise. “Wh-what?”

“We have to make sure you weren’t bit or scratched while you were out there traipsing around in Zulu territory.” Denny turned to leave when the man reached out and grabbed his pants leg.

“Wait, we weren’t! I promise. There’s no need to check us for…”

Denny turned and glared at the man. “If you want sanctuary here, then you go by the rules. Both of you will be inspected top to bottom for bites and scratches. If we find any, you’re out on your skinny ass. If we don’t, then come morning, you’re free to leave, or we can discuss you becoming a part of our merry little band of misfits.” He bent down and stared at the man. “Do you have an issue with my rules?”

The man shook his head. “No,” he stammered. “I mean, no, sir.”

Denny stood again and gave him a gruff grunt. “Good.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Quarantine is this way. After you’re checked out, you can clean up and we can get you something to eat. After that, you’re welcome to crash for the night.”

“Thank you.” The woman’s voice was barely heard as she tried to get to her feet.

Denny paused as he was about to leave and turned his head slightly. “Don’t thank me yet.”

The pair were escorted to the quarantine area and placed behind a makeshift curtain. Both were told to strip down to their birthday suit for a thorough inspection. The male raised a brow and began to balk at the notion of getting naked in front of a stranger. “Hey, it’s not like one of those things could have bit the business end of my happy stick.”

The woman standing on the other side of the curtain putting on a latex glove paused and replied, “I’ve seen stranger things.”

The man begrudgingly pulled what was left of his underwear down and the woman stepped in. She found him standing with his back turned, both hands cupping his happy stick. “Don’t worry. I was a nurse before all this. I doubt seriously you have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d like to keep Mr. Happy covered until I have to.” His face was red as he spoke and the woman simply shrugged.

“Suit yourself. But ‘Mr. Happy’ will get inspected or you and he will have to find other accommodations.”

“Jason, just do what they tell us.” The female called from her side of the curtain. “I don’t want to go back out there.”

The man exhaled loudly and dropped his hands while the nurse went over him with a fine-toothed comb. When she was finished, she handed him a water basin with a wash cloth, a towel and a hotel-sized bar of soap. “There’s a kettle of hot water over there. Feel free.”

“I don’t know if it will do much good. I lost my pack with my extra clothes in it almost a week ago.”

“We have some extras. Surely something will fit. At least they’re clean.” She pointed him to the area where the drain in the floor could carry away the dirty water and turned her attention to the woman.

As she did her inspection, the nurse suddenly paused. She had found a nasty scratch across the woman’s shoulder, but it was nearly healed. “When did this happen?”

The small woman looked at it and shrugged. “A little over a week ago.”

The nurse nodded and continued to stare. “How did it happen?”

The girl shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not really sure. We were running from one of those things and tried to use the woods as cover. I’m still not sure if it scratched me or it was a tree limb.”

The nurse stiffened and looked at the wound more carefully. “You’re sure this happened a week ago?”

The girl nodded. “Could have been a little longer.”

The nurse nodded, made a note on her clipboard, and continued her inspection. When she finished, she handed her a basin and towels and another hotel-sized bar of soap. “Same drill. I’ll be back shortly with some clothes.” She pointed to a door on the far side. “That room is our quarantine area. The two of you can stay there tonight. I’ll bring your clothes to you there.”

“Thank you.” The girl lowered her eyes and headed toward the drain where Jason was just finishing and dumped the muddy water into the drain.

The nurse stepped from the room and leaned heavily against the wall. She pulled the mask from her mouth and ran a hand through her hair. Nervously, she glanced back through the glass window in the door at the couple and nearly jumped when she heard someone directly behind her. She turned and saw a young girl standing beside her carrying a tray laden with food and bottled water. “Oh, my god, Skeeter. You nearly scared me to death.”

“Sorry, Miss Vicky. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Vicky Sue glanced back through the window once more, then in a hushed tone told Skeeter, “As soon as you give them the food, gather up Hatcher, Wally, and Henry. Tell them I need to talk with them.”

Skeeter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She quickly entered the room and set the food on the small table outside the curtain, then hurried back out and down the hall. Vicky Sue watched her as she trotted down the hallway then made her own way to the small office she used as an infirmary. She couldn’t be positive, but the scratch on the woman’s back looked exactly like a human nail scratch. If it was from one of the infected and the girl didn’t turn…well, it could mean a number of different things. It could mean she was naturally immune. It could mean the infected’s hand wasn’t carrying the virus somehow, or…possibly she’d misidentified the scratch.

She plopped into her chair and used the sleeve of her lab coat to wipe the sweat from her brow. Whatever the situation, there was a chance that half-starved, scared, young lady in their quarantine room might well hold the answer to this plague.

Colonel Vickers stepped around the crowd of people who were trying to get to the new chief of staff and the president. His report took precedence over anything these people might have to say. He paused and stared at the line of people and shook his long face. Standing on his tiptoes, he caught the attention of the lone secret service agent and raised his brows. The man nodded and bent to whisper something in the president’s ear. The man nodded and the secret service agent waved Vickers on. Between the colonel and agent, the crowd was forced apart and Vickers waded through until he was within swinging distance of the leader of the free world, even if it was in name only.

After having abandoned Washington D.C. and the White House, the government had fallen back and tried to settle in at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Being underground in a nuclear bunker seemed like a good idea, considering it had redundant systems for nearly everything. At least until the doors were sealed from the inside and support personnel began turning. Those who survived the evacuation of Washington barely survived the evacuation from Cheyenne Mountain. Air support was called in that helped clear the evac route, but many were lost in the action. Eventually, it was decided to temporarily set up on the aircraft carrier, the USS Ronald Reagan. With support ships keeping a tight formation, and more ships joining the flotilla almost daily, the largest virus free nation in the world was actually a flotilla of American warships.

Vickers had been forced to move the majority of his personnel from site to site to try to keep ahead of the mobs of infected. Eventually, it was decided to move them all out to a medical frigate and have them set up shop where the infected couldn’t run them from their research and they could actually accomplish something. But the results of their research had steadily grown worse with each move, and the reason why had just recently been discovered. He really wasn’t looking forward to the briefing he was about to make.

He found himself being escorted to the president’s new office, previously the commanding officer’s office. With the government being set up upon a naval vessel, the ship’s new call sign had been designated Navy One. Not something that went over well with a lot of the sailors aboard the proud ship, but it was felt that if nothing else, appearances had to be maintained.

Vickers stood until the tall man invited him to take a seat. “Colonel, please tell me we have some good news for a change.” President Walters leaned forward, his face hopeful.

Vickers met his gaze but his face betrayed him. “I’m afraid not, sir.” He pulled a brief from his satchel and set it on the man’s desk. “I had my people double and triple check the data.”

President James Herbert Walters was an ex-military man before he made his name in business. He knew numbers, but he didn’t know science. He’d never minced his words when speaking with his staff before, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Will I be able to understand this?” He reached for the report and flipped open the worn manila folder.

“It’s a little dry, Jim, but it’s in layman’s terms.” Vickers stood and stepped over to the bar. “You mind?”

President Walter’s shook his head. “Pour me one as well. We may as well enjoy it while we still have some.” He perused the file and eventually came to the summary. “So if I’m reading this right, the virus has mutated?”

“Well, yes and no.” Vickers handed the man his drink and took his seat again. “The samples we use in the lab have somehow mutated, but the fresh stuff we’re getting out in the field…”

“What?”

Vickers took a long pull from his drink then cradled his glass. “Well, sir, to be honest, it’s hard to tell.”

Walter closed the file and placed it on the corner of his desk. “What’s the bottom line, Bill?”

Vickers cleared his throat and met the man’s gaze. “We need to find the source and see if we can get the original virus if we’re ever going to have a hope of finding an effective anti-viral.”

The president stared at the man for a long period. “You mean we have to fly somebody back to Yellowstone and scoop up some of the goo?”

Vickers cleared his throat and bounced his head back and forth. “It’s not really that simple, sir.”

“Then please, explain it to me.” Walters picked up his drink and took a long swallow.

“With the virus having been made airborne, and the activity that is still coming out of Yellowstone, we need to send somebody in on the ground. We can’t approach from the air.”

“Why the hell not? Send them in wearing those chicken suits, scoop up the goo, and bring them back.” Walters’ face was twisted in confusion.

“Sir, if the virus in the air has mutated, sending in a chopper will mix it all up. Contaminate the ground source as well. We won’t get a good sample.”

“For the love of…” Walters sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. “So we can use a chopper to get them close, right?”

“Within twenty clicks. Anything closer than that runs the risk of—”

“Yeah, I got ya.” The president stood and stretched his neck. “Do we have any spec op boys available to make this run?”

Vickers lowered his eyes and rattled the ice in his drink. “We need a trained scientist to collect the samples, sir.”

Walters sighed heavily and dropped his head. “Of course we do.” He stepped back to his chair and all but fell into it ungracefully. “Let me guess. LaRue wants to be the one?”

Vickers shook his head. “Actually sir, she doesn’t want to be within a hundred miles of the place.”

“Tell me you have somebody in mind.” Walters eyed him suspiciously.

Vickers nodded slightly. “I do. But neither of us like it.”

The president groaned under his breath and Vickers nodded. “Not that touchy-feely son of a bitch…”

“Yes, sir.” Vickers raised his eyes to meet his. “He is the best candidate. He used to be a spec op soldier, he’s got a Masters in Microbiology. He may be a son of a bitch, but he’s been a huge help in the lab.”

Walters closed his eyes and shook his head. “And he’s volunteered to go on this mission?”

“Not yet. But I’m sure he will once I announce that it needs to be made.”

Walters exhaled hard and nodded. “Fine. Make it happen. The sooner the better.”

“There is…one more thing,” Vickers added hesitantly.

“Oh, please. Tell me the ship is sinking.” Walters added sarcastically.

Vickers snorted a chuckle and shook his head. “Negative, sir.” He finished his drink and set it on the desk. “We need to find a man, if he’s still alive.”

“If he’s…who?”

“His name is Hatcher.” Vickers face remained stoic.

The president stared at him for a moment until a light of recognition crossed his features. “He was the guard or some such at the park, wasn’t he?”

“Park Ranger,” Vickers corrected.

“Why on earth do we need him?”

“The park is literally ground zero. It’s bound to be crawling with the Zeds. Hatcher knows every inch of it. If anybody can get our man in and out in one piece, it’s him.” Vickers hated to admit it, but Hatcher had been hovering in the back of his mind ever since this option first came to his attention.

“I still don’t see why. Hollis was a spec op soldier. Surely he can handle himself…”

“Sir, with all due respect, I had a whole squadron of men like that up on that mountain. Most of them are Zeds now.” Vickers paused to allow his statement to sink in. “Even if I sent in a SEAL team to escort Hollis, chances are, we’d just be adding to the Zed population by sundown.”

Walters studied Vickers for a moment. “And you really think that this Park Ranger can do what a SEAL team can’t?”

Vickers nodded. “He avoided them all before, including my men. He knows every game trail, short cut, side road…you name it. The man knows that park.”

Walters put his hands up in surrender. “Okay. If you say you need him, send a team out to find this guy.” He stood, indicating the meeting was over, then paused. “You do have an idea where he is, don’t you?”

Vickers shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t.” He turned and headed for the door. “But I will.”

Chapter 2

“Candy, how’re you holding up?” Hatcher patted her shoulder as she walked by.

“I’ve been better.” Her voice betrayed the pain she felt.

Hatcher held her arm, stopping her in mid-step. “What happened?”

She shook her head and looked away. “Nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“Right. I know that tone.” Hatcher pulled her aside and tried to get her to look at him. It was obvious now she had been crying. “Tell me what happened.” His voice was low and soft, not letting the others hear his concern.

She lowered her head and averted her eyes, her gaze unfocused. “There were kids in that group, Hatch.”

“Oh, no…”

“And I torched them just to get them off the damned door.” Her voice broke as she spoke and her resolve threatened to let go. He pulled her close and tried to wrap his arms around her, but she pushed him away. “No. I’ll start crying again, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”

“Hey, sometimes you gotta let yourself. If you try to hold it all in, it can eat you up from the inside.” He kept trying to look her in the eyes and she kept avoiding his gaze.

“I have to keep telling myself they weren’t kids anymore, Hatch. I just have to. Otherwise—” Her bottom jaw quivered and she turned from him. “Anyway, I have to go check in.”

He let go of her arms and let her slip away. “If you need to talk later, you know where to find me.”

She waved a hand over her shoulder as she continued down the hallway. Hatcher watched her go and couldn’t help but worry for her. He knew the stress of being constantly on guard was getting to all of them, but throw in the added stressors like what she had gone through tonight? Sometimes people needed to allow themselves a little breakdown just to get it out of their systems.

Hatcher continued watching Candy as Skeeter came rushing down the hallway. “Hatcher!”

“Hey, squirt.” He opened his arms and wrapped one over her shoulder. “What are you up to tonight? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Nurse Vicky needs to see you. She asked me to fetch you and the rest of the council. You’re the last one.” She sounded breathless as she talked, and Hatcher imagined she had run all over the warehouse looking for him.

“Okay, squirt. I’m guessing she’s in the infirmary?”

“Yup.” She clung to him as he walked down the hall. “It sounded real important. Can I come and listen, too? I’ll be real quiet.”

Hatcher shook his head. “No ma’am. It’s way past your bedtime.” He pulled her in closer and gave her a one-armed hug. “Scoot. Get your hiney off to bed.”

“Aww, Hatcher, please?” Her voice went up an octave as she whined. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

“You heard me, missy. Scoot.” He playfully swatted her bottom to get her moving.

“But maybe she wants to hear about the Free Zone? Did you hear anything when you were out tonight?” Skeeter’s eyes were big now as she inquired about every child’s hope these days.

Hatcher shook his head again. “I didn’t hear nothing tonight. I was too busy getting supplies. Now go to sleep before we both get in trouble.”

Skeeter dropped her head and began shuffling her feet as she very slowly worked her way to the room she shared with another teenage girl. She glanced over her shoulder to see if maybe the sad eyes and pouty lip would change his mind, but he had already disappeared around a corner.

Skeeter worked her way into her room and tried to quietly slip into her cot. The other girl in her room rolled over, and in the moonlight from the window she could see that her eyes were wide open. “Did he say anything about the Free Zone tonight?”

Skeeter shook her head. “Naw. Said he was too busy scrounging up supplies.”

The other girl sighed in resignation and rolled onto her back. “Do you think we’ll ever make it to a Free Zone?”

Skeeter settled into her own cot and stared at the ceiling. “I sure hope so. I’m sick of hearing them scream all the time.”

“Me, too.”

“I’d love to have a place where there’s no Zulus. Just healthy people and food and clean water.” Skeeter smiled to herself.

“I heard that some of the Free Zones have electricity and everything. Just like before.” Her voice sounded so hopeful, as if simply saying it and hoping for it hard enough would make it so.

“That would be nice.” Skeeter closed her eyes and tried to imagine the place they described. “You know what I miss? I mean, I never thought I would, but I really do.”

“Boys?” the other girl giggled.

Skeeter choked on a laugh and shook her head. “No. I miss school.”

“School? Why?” Her roommate sounded disgusted at the very idea.

“Just getting up and going to school every day. Hanging out with my friends. Everything.”

“I miss hot showers,” the other girl added sadly. “And television.”

Skeeter nodded. “Yeah. And ice cream. And pizza. And movies. And—”

“Okay, stop.” Her roommate rolled over. “Now you’re just depressing me.”

Skeeter opened her eyes and stared at the peeling ceiling. “Yeah, me, too.”

Hatcher started to knock on the infirmary door and noticed that Wally and Henry were already inside waiting for him. “Sorry I’m late. Did I miss much?” Hatcher smiled at the others and Vicky waved him in.

“Shut the door, Daniel. We need to have a meeting.” She pulled a chair around for so the group could sit facing each other.

“This sounds sort of serious.” Hatcher checked the hall, then pulled the door shut. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about the new people that came in tonight,” Vicky began.

“Oh, no.” Wally stood up defensively. “One of them’s infected, ain’t they?”

“No!” Vicky stood and calmed the large man down. “No, they’re not infected. At least, not that I can tell.”

Once Wally was seated, Henry leaned forward. “Then what’s the problem?”

Vicky cleared her throat and looked each man in the eye. “I can’t be certain just yet, but I think there’s a distinct possibility the female may be immune.”

As expected, her statement caught the group by surprise, and the murmuring of the group almost broke into shouts. “Okay, wait! Calm down, let’s hear her out,” Hatcher almost shouted. “Go on Vicky. Tell us what you found.”

“Well, as I was doing the inspection, I found a scratch.” She held her hands up to stop the men before they could interrupt. “It was an older scratch. It was nearly healed, and was really more of a scar. The young lady said they ran into the woods to get away from a Zulu and either it scratched her, or a branch got her.”

“Well, then a branch had to have gotten her. We all know that if you’re scratched or bitten, you’re as good as gone,” Henry stated matter of factly.

“Hank, I’ve worked in a clinic most of my adult life. I know what a deep scratch from another human looks like. That was no branch.” Vicky’s eyes convinced him that she was already convinced.

The group sat in silence for a moment as they considered the ramifications. Finally, Wally spoke up, “So what does this mean?”

Vicky shook her head. “For us, not much. I mean, I’m just a nurse. I’m not trained for that kind of stuff. We’d need a virologist or immunologist or…”

“Or the CDC,” Hatcher interrupted.

They all turned and stared. Henry shook his head. “Surely the CDC is gone by now. I mean, they were on the frontlines trying to fight this thing. If they were still up and running, surely by now they would have made some kind of leeway.”

Hatcher shrugged his shoulders. “Unless they lost power, too. Or had to seal themselves inside to protect themselves from the Zulus. Who knows what condition the CDC is in.”

“Man, the CDC is clear across the country in Atlanta.” Wally was on his feet now. “There’s no way we could get that girl that far.”

The group instantly felt defeated until Hatcher stood up, too. “Fort Collins.” He snapped his fingers.

“Fort what?” Vicky asked.

“Fort Collins!” Hatcher was nearly giddy with excitement. “Think of it as a military CDC. They do virus stuff there.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Henry asked.

Hatcher paused and stared at the trio. He exhaled hard and sat back down. “I ran into a military guy that was from there. He told me some stuff. I don’t remember all the particulars, but I remember he was from Fort Collins and he dealt in viruses.”

“Like, weaponized viruses?” Vicky asked. “Could that be where this came from?”

Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t really know for sure where or what this thing is.” He looked around at the group. “But Fort Collins isn’t that far, and it’s a damn sight closer than Georgia. If anybody can check out this girl and see if there’s a way to get a cure or, or…a vaccine or something from her blood, then my money is it’s at Fort Collins.”

Vicky held her hands up to stop them. “Before we go too much further, there’s a guy who used to be an EMT. He offered to assist me if I ever needed it. So, before we go planning any out of state trips, I think we ought to have him take a look at her, too.” The men gave her questioning looks. “It’s the closest thing to a second opinion we’re going to get around here. If Larry says it looks like a human scratch to him, too, then we can decide to move forward. Agreed?” The men all nodded and muttered ‘agreed.’ “Until then, we keep this quiet. We keep it to ourselves. We don’t want to cause any false hopes or any unnecessary panic in the people living here.”

“They didn’t flip out when they saw the scratch on your shoulder?” Jason’s eyes bore into the young woman sitting across from him in the bleak candlelight.

She shook her head slightly, her eyes downcast. “No.” Her voice was so soft it could barely be heard in the darkness. She pulled a small corner from the piece of bread she held and slipped it into her mouth.

“Well, what did they say? I couldn’t hear from where I was, and I was trying to listen.”

She shook her head again and shrugged. “She just asked how I got it.”

Jason leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “What did you tell them?” His voice was a whisper, but he may as well have yelled by the way she jumped. “Seriously, Bren. What did you tell them?”

She jerked her head up and stared at him. “The truth.”

He fell back onto his cot and stared at her. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He slowly got to his feet and paced the small area. “If they think you were scratched by one of the crazies, they’ll throw us both out.”

She shook her head again. “I told her it happened nearly a week ago. She seemed satisfied with that.” She reached for his hand and stopped his pacing. “If I were infected, I would have turned by now. It had to be a tree branch.”

Jason shook his head. “Bren, I saw it happen. I told you what scratched you.”

“And you still didn’t put me down, did you?” She came to her feet and laid her head against his chest. “What did you tell me then?”

He stroked her hair and pulled her tight into his arms. “That I’d always take care of you.”

“Whatever it was, they know that it’s an old scratch and that I’m not infected.” Her voice was muffled against the rough material of his shirt. “We’re safe. They’re not going to throw us out. They don’t suspect anything.”

He continued to rub her hair and nodded in the darkness. “I pray you’re right.”

“I am.” She held him tightly and snuggled in closer. “We’re going to be fine.”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Jason sighed. “I’m damned glad they were here to pull our fat out of the fire, but…”

She pulled away and stared at him in the dim light. “What?”

Jason shook his head in the darkness and looked away. “We don’t know anything about them. They could be bad people.”

She nodded and snuggled close again. “Bad people don’t allow you a bath and give you clothes. They don’t feed you and let you stay together.”

“In quarantine.” He didn’t mean for the bitterness to come out in his voice, but it did.

“Regardless, if they had bad intentions, don’t you think they would have separated us? Maybe tried something? Or put you in chains or…worse?”

“I don’t know. Call me paranoid, but I don’t trust many people these days.”

“I don’t blame you. Not a bit. But for now? Tonight? We have a safe place to sleep, food in our stomachs, and we don’t have to take turns keeping watch.” She pulled away and cupped his face in her hand. “Can’t we just try to relax and enjoy what we have for however long we have it?”

Jason sighed heavily and pulled her closer. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. For tonight, we can at least pretend the world hasn’t gone to shit and let ourselves relax a little.”

She leaned up and kissed him gently on the chin. “Thank you.”

“Meh, don’t thank me.” He pulled the two cots close together and sat down, pulling her to him. “We’re liable to wake up tomorrow and find ourselves slave labor for a bunch of pirates or something.”

She chuckled lightly as she settled in next to him. “It beats being eaten by the crazies, don’t you think?”

He shrugged and wrapped an around her. “Sometimes I wonder.”

Larry pulled Vicky aside after his inspection of the newcomers. “I told them I wanted to make sure the scratch wasn’t infected. I smeared some triple antibiotic on it and applied a bandage.”

Vicky waved him on with her hand. “And?”

“And…” Larry sighed heavily. “It certainly appears to be a deep scratch made by a human.”

“That was my thoughts as well.”

“So, what are you planning to do about it? She obviously hasn’t turned. Maybe it wasn’t an infected that scratched her. You do realize that in the heat of a chase, her boyfriend could have done it and neither of them even realize it.”

Vicky shook her head. “The council has a plan already. All we needed was for you to verify my findings.”

“No, that’s bull!” Larry stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “You can’t pull me in on something like this and then keep me in the dark.”

Vicky blew a breath out as she considered the circumstances. “You’re right.” She pulled him to the side and lowered her voice. “They think she might be immune. That perhaps her antibodies can be used to come up with an antiviral or an immunization.”

“We aren’t set up for something like that. Hell, none of us would have the first clue how to do something like that.”

“I know. That’s why they’re going to make arrangements to move her.” Vicky pulled him closer and stared into his eyes. “You have to promise you’ll keep this under your hat. Don’t even tell your wife. We don’t want any false hope being spread.”

“But…”

“No! Especially considering the odds of them being able to pull this off.” Vicky sighed and shook her head. “The CDC is most likely gone. Daniel knows of a place in Colorado. Apparently, the military had some kind of viral research place that was tied to the CDC or something. That’s where they’re wanting to take her.”

“Sweet Mary, Mother of…do you have any idea how far of a trek that is?” Larry practically fell into his chair.

“A hell of a lot closer than the CDC is, I promise you.” Vicky paused and considered the circumstances. “Look, just promise you won’t say anything to anybody.”

Larry nodded his head, his eyes staring off to nowhere.

“You promise?”

Larry snapped out of his reverie. “Yeah. I promise.” He suddenly stood and cleared his throat. “And I think I need to get ready.”

Vicky gave him a confused look. “What for?”

“If they’re going on a long trip, they’ll want somebody with medical training to tag along. I’m young, strong, and healthy and I have that training. I’m the logical choice.”

“Oh, the hell you say…” Vicky pushed him away. “Your wife would kill us both.”

“She doesn’t have a say in this.” Larry tried to push past Vicky and got a stiff arm in the chest to block his way.

“How about we just ask Hatcher before you go making any kind of plans?”

Larry paused and gave her a sidelong look. “Fine. We’ll ask Hatcher.”

The two set off in search of Hatcher and found him in his makeshift room, a corner of the main warehouse, his meager belongings hung on the wall. He had his pack sitting on his bunk and was folding his clothes, making ready for another outing.

“Hatch, old buddy,” Larry called as they approached his space.

“You’re not going,” Hatcher stated without turning around.

“What? Why not?”

“I’ll be able to make better time if it’s just the three of us.” He turned and faced the pair. “I take it her wound was definitely made by a human?”

Vicky Sue nodded. “I was certain, but…”

“Hatch, I really think you should take somebody who has medical training.” Larry would argue with a fence post if he thought he stood a chance of winning. With Hatcher, he didn’t.

“I’ve had first responder training, too. We don’t need you. Your wife does.” Hatcher turned back to his packing and continued shoving items into his pack. “Prepare the newcomers. I’ll be there shortly to talk with them.”

“Do you think it’s smart to just go in there and spill the whole plan?” Vicky asked. “I mean, shouldn’t we—”

“Shouldn’t we what? Waste more time allowing more healthy people to be killed and eaten by those things? Allow more people to be turned into those things?” Hatcher shook his head. “No, we leave tonight.”

“Sir, we went through the backup files of all government employees. We finally found a ‘Daniel’ Hatcher who worked for the Forestry Department and went on to become a Park Ranger. What exactly did you want from his file?” The aide waited expectantly outside of Vickers’ office with barely his face exposed.

Vickers looked up from the daily reports and nodded. “Just bring me the entire file. If it’s electronic, send it to my computer.”

“Yes, sir.” The aide disappeared and a few moments later a chime on Vickers’ computer indicated he had a new document waiting.

Vickers opened the document and went through all of the personal files on Daniel Hatcher. He finally found what he was looking for. A home town. An address. A starting point. He had to ask himself, if he weren’t a military man and the world went to hell in a handbasket, what would he do? Well, the first thing he’d do is try to make it to whatever hole in the wall he called ‘home’ and check on family members.

Vickers perused Hatcher’s file and discovered a sister. If she survived the initial outbreak, she would probably try to do the same, unless she was like most people and never travelled more than a hundred miles from home. Regardless, home appeared to be Rio Rancho, New Mexico. Just a little North of Albuquerque. Vickers smiled as he continued digging through the file, but nothing of interest jumped out at him.

Never married, Daniel Hatcher had little other reason to stay away from what might be home. Vickers felt that, if nothing else, it was a place to start. The truly bad part of the whole situation was, with the infrastructure in the condition it was in, they could send what was left of the entire military after the man and still miss him. There was no telling where in the town he might be holed up.

Vickers considered the numerous options and finally decided the best plan was the most obvious. He’d ‘knock’ and ask for Hatcher…in a manner of speaking. Flying a helicopter over the town with a loud speaker calling his name might not be the most subtle way to get his attention, but if Hatcher was still alive, curiosity would compel him to discover who was asking for him.

They’d just better be sure and use that sonic whatchamacallit that Andrews cooked up while they do it. The last thing they needed was a few thousand of the infected Zeds trying to climb into the chopper as they were searching for their guide.

Vickers mashed the button on his intercom. “Get me Hollis!”

Vicky stood outside the door and watched the young couple as they sat on their cots and chatted quietly between themselves. She heard Daniel approaching and knew it was him before he ever got close. “They’re just sitting and talking.”

“Time to ruin their day.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside with Vicky in tow. The couple both turned and looked at him at the same time when they walked in.

“Are we free to leave quarantine yet?” Jason asked.

Hatcher shook his head as he pulled up a chair. “We need to have a little chat.”

Jason rolled his eyes and slumped against the wall. “What now, man?” Bren seemed to shrink in upon herself as Hatcher settled in across from them.

“That scratch on the back of your shoulder. How’d you get it?”

“She done already told your nurse, dude. Do we really have to have the third degree? We’ve been—”

“I’m not talking to you.” Hatcher didn’t raise his voice, but the tone instantly knocked the wind from Jason’s sails. “I was talking to her.”

Bren shrunk even more and shook her head softly. “I’m not sure. I didn’t see it.” Her voice was barely audible. “It was probably a tree branch.”

Hatcher stared at the floor and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m going to ask one more time. If I don’t get a straight answer, you’re both getting tossed out on your asses.”

Vicky squeezed his shoulder silently and Jason’s eyes bugged. “What the hell, man? It’s not like she’s infected. She’d have already turned if she was…”

“And if you interrupt one more time, I’ll throw you out on principle.” Hatcher shot him a withering stare. He turned to Bren. “One last time, SweetPea. Truth or consequences?”

Bren’s hands began to shake as she fiddled with the edge of the shirt she wore. Her head shook side to side and she stared at the floor. “I told you. I didn’t see it. I was scared and running and…”

“Alright. That’s it. Grab what you brought and let’s go.” Hatcher stood so quickly that his chair clattered to the floor behind him. “I mean it. Let’s move!”

Jason suddenly stood and got between Hatcher and Bren. “It was one of the crazies, man. It scratched her when we was running from it. But she didn’t get sick, okay? She didn’t turn. She’s okay, see?” Jason waved his hand toward Bren who now had tears running down her face. He lowered his voice and pleaded with Hatcher, “Please, man. You can’t throw us to the wolves.”

Hatcher narrowed his gaze on the pair then turned to Vicky. “Get them something to drink. We may be a little bit.”

“Wait. So we can stay?” Jason asked reluctantly.

“Sit down.” Hatcher pulled his chair upright again and sat. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Chapter 3

“So, they’re okay with the plan?” Vicky’s eyes probed Daniel as he marched down the makeshift hallway toward the corner he called home.

Hatcher avoided her eyes and gave her a nonchalant shrug. “I didn’t really give them a choice.”

“You what?” Vicky grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Daniel. So help me, if you strong-armed those kids into—”

“Stop.” His eyes bore into her and the firm set of his jaw showed above all else that he meant business. “You know as well as I do what that girl in there could be carrying inside of her body.”

“But you can’t force them into this, Danny. Think of what mMom would say if she knew—”

“Mom is gone, Vick. She was gone long before any of this happened.” He pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “Do I like the idea of dragging two reluctant kids all the way to northern Colorado on nothing other than the idea of a cure? Hell no. But tell me what other choice I have?”

“You need to let them choose, Danny.” Vicky lowered her face and crossed her arms defensively. “It isn’t right to force them. They aren’t prisoners.”

“No, they aren’t. But they also know that if they don’t agree, then they’re back out there on their own.” He pointed just outside the metal wall of the warehouse.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. They bring nothing to the community except this, and you know as well as I do that there are no freeloaders here.”

He turned back to his chore when she pulled him to a stop again. “You mean like Skeeter? Or Phil? Or the number of pregnant women in our little community?”

“That’s different. Phil may be in a wheelchair, but he’s an engineer, and he helped plan the defenses for this place. The women who are pregnant…well…” he paused to think of some reasonable explanation to give his nosy sister. “They were pregnant when they got here. And they help. They…cook and clean for us sometimes.”

“You’re reaching Danny and you know it.”

“Maybe. But if I have to play the hardass to get these two to do the right thing, then so be it.”

“And what’s to stop them from bailing on you the first opportunity things look safe enough for them?”

Hatcher shook his head. “Nothing. Unless they want to keep breathing.” He turned and marched off to his corner and began packing his backpack.

Vicky watched him through narrow eyes. “Something has changed in you, Danny. Something I don’t recognize.”

Hatcher paused and stared into the darkness. He thought of his best friend Mitch and Shelly and the countless others who died on his watch. He shook his head in the darkness. “There’s been enough death, sis. If dragging these two to Colorado has a snowball’s chance at finding a cure, then I have to do it.”

“If Gene were still alive, he’d stomp a mudhole in our ass.” Her voice quivered as she spoke of her now deceased husband.

“If Gene were still alive, he’d be helping me. He’d want a cure as badly as I do.” Hatcher shoved the last of his few items into the pack and snapped it shut. When he turned to face her, he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are those for me or those kids?”

Vicky shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sniffed and wiped at her face in frustration. “You had better come back alive, you hear me? I’m not raising Skeeter by myself.”

Daniel grunted a smile at her and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. I’m too tough for those bastards to chew on, anyway.”

Colonel Vickers had just finished compiling a paper file of all the pertinent information on Hatcher when a knock sounded from his door. “Come.”

Captain A.J. Hollis stepped inside and stood at parade rest. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Vickers glanced up from the folders he had prepared and waved the captain off. “At ease.” Vickers took his seat and eyed the young pain in the ass junior officer. “You were a spec op officer, were you not?” Vickers already knew the answer.

“Sir, yes, sir. Army Green Beret out of—”

“Yes, particulars don’t concern me, captain.” Vickers tossed the folder across to Hollis. “We have a mission for you, if you’re up to it.”

Hollis gave the colonel a curious glance. “A mission, sir? I thought the laboratory protocols were our first priority?”

“This is part of it.” Vickers nodded to the file. “Didn’t LaRue say we needed the original virus? Unmutated?”

“Yes, sir, but I don’t—”

“Then we need this man to escort you and a team into the hot zone to collect that sample, captain.” Vickers gave him a knowing smile. “Again, if you think you are up to it.” He knew the young captain would snap at a chance to prove himself. Especially if he thought it would make him a ‘hero.’

“Sir, from what I understand, the hot zone is inside Yellowstone, correct?”

“You are correct.” Vickers leaned back in his chair and observed the young officer connect the dots.

“A small team and myself could be in and out in no time. Minimal casualties.”

“Negative, captain.” Vickers sat forward and stared hard at the man. “Yellowstone is ground zero and crawling with Zeds. I had top shelf spec op warriors on the ground there and they all were overrun by them. Your best chance of getting to the collection site and back out in one piece is that man right there.”

“He’s a civilian, sir.” Hollis was shaking his head as he thumbed through the redacted file.

“He was the lead Park Ranger for that area. He knows every game trail, mountain pass, mouse house, doghouse, outhouse, you name it, he knows it like the back of his hand.” Vickers stood and walked from behind his desk. “This one man not only was able to skirt every Zed on the mountain, he bypassed or snuck past every one of my men. He knows that park better than you know your own junk.”

Captain Hollis met the colonel’s eyes and nodded. “Very well, sir.”

“Your best chance for finding him would be to start with his hometown. He has a sister that still lives there.” Vickers caught himself. “Rather, she did still live there before the Zeds.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll get a team assembled and we’ll leave in the morning.”

“Good man.” Vickers clapped him on the shoulder. “Make sure you stay in radio contact at all times. Once you have Hatcher, stay outside the buffer zone to prevent contamination.”

“Affirmative, sir.” Hollis snapped the folder shut and stood at attention. “Anything else, sir?”

“Yes, there is.” Vickers turned a steely gaze on the man. “Do not fail.”

“Wally, you got my ride ready?” Hatcher tossed his pack at the ground beside the old military truck and looked up at the flat green monster inside the warehouse.

Denny Wallace slipped his head out from under the hood and nodded. “Just about. Just checking all of the fluids before you take her out.” He stepped down from the tall bumper and pulled the hood down with a reverberating clang, then hooked the side latches, locking the hood in place. “Remember, she’ll run on diesel, fuel oil, jet fuel, kerosene…just about anything so long as it’s clean.”

“And if it isn’t clean?” Jason asked as he fell in behind Hatcher.

Denny smiled and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Then you’ll clog the fuel filters and you won’t be going anywhere. Fast.”

Jason moaned, “Great.”

“Hey, kid, it beats walking the whole way.” Hatcher tossed his gear in the back and opened the door. “How many gallons of fuel do we have with us?”

Denny patted the metal jerry cans in the flatbed. “Ten five-gallon cans. I have no idea the mileage this thing gets, so try to go easy on it. I shoved a hand pump behind the seat, so if you have to siphon fuel you won’t have to suck on the hose or anything.”

“A prince among men.” Hatcher turned the key and waited for the yellow light to glow. Hitting the starter button, the big diesel engine roared to life. “Music to my ears.”

“And to those things out there.” Jason added as he held the door open for Bren. He climbed in after and slammed the door shut.

Henry Willis handed up two sawed off shotguns and a half-case of shells looted from the local sporting goods shop. “You’re going to attract a lot of attention.” He gave Hatcher a knowing look as he handed him spare magazines for his pistol and another box of ammunition. “Are you sure you don’t want an extra set of eyes for the trip?”

“Nope. We’ll move faster the fewer of us there are.” Hatcher pushed in the clutch and shoved the monster into gear. Nodding toward the large double doors, he announced, “Let’s do this.”

Henry motioned to Candy who pulled on one door while Wallace pulled on the other. Hatcher had the huge truck rolling toward the opening before daylight broke the seam. As he passed Candy, she yelled, “Good luck!”

Daniel’s face was tight with focus as he pushed the accelerator down and shifted through the gears. Jason sat nervously in the passenger seat, shotgun at the ready.

As the large truck rushed out into the dwindling light, Hatcher was surprised that the Zulus weren’t already on them. He pulled the lever bringing the lights on and instantly switched them to high beam. “I’m not seeing any company.”

Jason shook his head. “Me neither, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.”

Bren pointed ahead, through the windshield. “There.”

Both men’s eyes followed her slender hand and saw three Zulus standing to the side of another building observing their departure. As soon as Hatcher turned for the main road, the three figures took off at a dead run on an intercept course. Hatcher couldn’t hear them over the roar of the engine, but seeing their mouths opening and closing, he was certain they were screaming for reinforcements.

Hatcher could feel the adrenaline begin to rush through his body as the figures began to advance on the slow-moving truck. He shoved the accelerator down harder and found another gear, forcing more speed from the monster. He was no math genius, but he could tell that the angle of their approach would put them on a perfect intercept course.

Hatcher had two choices. He could either continue on his course toward the main road and the highway, or turn right and go three blocks down and attempt to make the highway from there. Turning would slow the truck, but it would also put off their angle of attack. He also knew he’d have to slow the truck for the turns and that was precious speed lost and time for the Zulus to catch up. As the intersection approached, he made a last-minute decision. “Hold on!”

He tossed the shotgun into the seat beside Bren and hit the brake at the same time he turned the wheel. The large rubber tires beneath them protested as the heavy truck made the turn much too fast, but Hatcher quickly downshifted and floored the accelerator once more. Running through the gears, he chanced a peek into the side mirrors and saw the pursuers break around the corner of the far buildings, much farther back than he would have hoped for. “This might work.”

“What might work?” Bren asked as she braced herself against the dashboard.

“Trying to ditch these assholes.” Hatcher smiled at the quickly fading reflections in the side mirrors and prepared to cut across part of a parking lot to prevent having to make such a sharp turn at the next corner when more broke out in front of them.

“What about them? Can’t you just run them over?” Jason pointed excitedly at the small group of Zulus that entered their path.

Hatcher cursed under his breath and pushed the accelerator down harder. “Hitting a human body isn’t like hitting a cat or a dog. They can knock holes into the radiator or tear up pieces of the front end.” Hatcher jerked the wheel to the side and grazed one of the newcomers, then jerked it back the other way and felt something large go under the front tire, bouncing the entire truck into the air. He chanced a glance to Jason. “That was just one of them.”

Daniel continued to try to thread the large truck between the main mass of on-comers while preparing for the turn ahead. He downshifted and gave the truck more fuel, praying that it would get better traction as he pulled the wheel for a hard left and onto another street. Downshifting again and flooring the truck, he noticed one of the Zulus had managed to grab onto the side mirror of the passenger side and was beating against the window, brown streaks of nastiness smearing the glass. “Roll your window down part way and shoot the son of a bitch!”

Jason gave Hatcher a frightened look and then raised the shotgun to the glass. His hand shook violently as he reached for the handle and began to slowly lower the window. A bloodstained hand swiped at the open glass and tried to force its way inside the opening. Jason had leaned so far back he was practically in Bren’s lap. Finally, he angled the barrel of the shotgun through the opening and pulled the trigger. He couldn’t see if he hit the creature, but the ensuing scream and the body that fell from the side of the truck made him think that at least part of the buckshot had found its way to the target.

Jason leaned back in the seat and tried to catch his breath while Bren continually ran her fingers in and out of her ears, trying to stop the ringing.

“We have more company!” Hatcher yelled. He glanced at Jason and nodded with his chin. “You might want to rack another round into that thing and get ready.”

Jason stared at the shotgun as if it were a foreign object, then just as suddenly remembered how to use it. He jacked the slide and chambered another shell. Looking up through the windshield, he saw five more creatures running toward the truck…the onramp to the highway just blocks behind them. “What do we do?”

Hatcher ground his teeth together. “Too many to avoid. I say, roll that window down, lean out and clear a path.”

Jason looked at him as if he had three heads. “With a shotgun?”

“You’d better hurry.” Hatcher shifted again and steered the truck toward the side where the group was a little less populated.

Jason quickly rolled down the window and leaned his head and torso out. Placing the shotgun against his shoulder, he lined up on the lead creature and squeezed the trigger. Although he couldn’t see the damage, the lead Zulu suddenly dropped, both hands clutching its leg. Jason racked another shell into the chamber and took aim on the next closest and squeezed. Nothing happened, and he suddenly pulled himself back in as the truck bounced two Zulus off of each front fender, sending them flying in either direction. One Zulu went under the truck and could be heard bouncing against the undercarriage. The last one jumped to the side at the last second, then turned and followed the metal monster with food inside.

Jason turned a worried look to Hatcher. “Ya think the one that went under did any damage?”

Hatcher shrugged. “No way to know until we stop, and I ain’t stopping until I have to.”

Bren patted Hatcher’s arm. “Good plan.”

Candy and Vicky walked back toward the infirmary, talking as they went. “He’s just changed so much over the last few months. I mean, I can’t say that I really knew Hatcher before the outbreak, but…” Candy stared down the hallway and shook her head, eyes fogging. “Somehow I know he wasn’t like this.”

“I’ve seen something like this when I worked at Walter Reed. Soldiers come back from combat and their own families don’t even recognize them.” Vicky placed a comforting hand on Candy’s shoulder. “The good news is, they usually come back. I mean, mentally, the soldiers usually find a way to make things work and…”

Candy nodded. “But that’s for soldiers who are out of the battle zone, Vicky. We’re still living in it.” She met Vicky’s eyes and her lip quivered. “There may not be an end to this war.”

Vicky pulled the other woman into a brief embrace and stroked her back. “There’s always an end. It just sometimes takes time.”

Candy stepped back and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know who’s the bigger basket case. Me or you.” She laughed nervously as she turned into the infirmary.

“Come on in, I’ll buy you a drink.” Vicky shut the door behind them and pulled a bottle of medicinal whiskey from her desk drawer. She looked at the bottle and grimaced. “This is pure rotgut.”

“Ah, only the good stuff for your friends.” Candy laughed as she took a seat next to the desk.

“In these days and times, beggars can’t be choosy.” Vicky pulled out two specimen cups and poured the cheap whiskey for the two, then screwed the cap back on and slipped it back into her drawer. They held the cups up and Vicky took a sip. “Holy wow. That will put hair on your chest.”

Candy wheezed and set her cup back down. “That will put hair on your throat!” The two women laughed and relaxed a moment, their thoughts going out to the party that had just left and was headed to Colorado.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Candy asked without realizing the words had even been uttered.

Vicky stared at the amber liquid in the plastic cup and inhaled deeply. “They better.”

A soft knock at the door of the infirmary pulled both women from their melancholy mood. Vicky stood and opened the door. A teenage girl stood there, face downcast. “Can I help you, sweetie?”

The girl avoided Vicky’s gaze and muttered something unintelligible. “What was that, sugar? You need to speak up. Is something wrong?”

She finally looked up and met Vicky’s eyes. Her face was red from crying and the fear was evident. “I got some bad news for ya, but I don’t wanna be in no trouble for telling it.”

Vicky opened the door wider and ushered the girl in. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.”

The girl’s eyes bounced around the infirmary and finally settled on Candy. “What about her?”

Vicky chuckled and shook her head. “No, honey, she won’t get you in trouble, either.” She sat back down and coaxed the girl to approach her desk. “Now why don’t you take a deep breath and tell me what the problem is.”

The girl faced Vicky and nearly whispered, “Skeeter done run off.”

“Skeeter what?” Vicky sat up quickly and stared at the young girl. “How do you know that?”

“She and I share a room most nights. She heard that Hatcher was gonna take them new folks somewhere and…” her voice trailed off.

“She what, sweetie? What did Skeeter do?”

“She packed a bag and snuck into the back of the truck. She done went with them.”

Skeeter held on underneath the old oily tarp as best she could. When the truck hit a big bounce in the road, she nearly squealed. She had to bite her tongue to keep quiet. She just knew that if Hatcher found her in the back of the truck, he’d turn it around and take her back. Even if he had to wait a long time before he could take off again, he’d do it. For some reason, he liked to pretend she couldn’t take care of herself.

Skeeter knew she wasn’t grown yet, and she knew she couldn’t possibly know everything there was to know about the Zulus or the world outside, but if there was any way for her to find out about the Free Zones firsthand, it was a risk worth taking.

She had snuck into the back of the truck right after they had finished stacking the cans of fuel in and strapping them down. There were supplies in the back, and Henry had covered them with this old, stinky, oily tarp. It was heavy and it made her sweat a lot, but it kept her covered and nobody knew she was there. She actually found it funny that nobody thought to check one last time before Hatcher left, just to make sure he had everything.

She had this funny tingling feeling inside. It made her almost need to pee. But once the truck started and it began to move, the feeling subsided. As soon as she had heard the first scream, though…despite the sweat covering her body, she broke into chill bumps. The hair on her neck stood on end and her body froze in place. She knew they were close. She felt the bumps against the truck and knew it had to be them bouncing off the outside of the truck as Hatcher drove it to safety. When the truck bounced so high in the air, she almost wished it was one of them going under a tire. She even heard one go under the truck and bounce off the bottom, all the way to the back. It made her smile to think that the Zulus were so stupid they’d let themselves get run over by a tank of a truck.

Now that they were on the highway and the steady rhythm of the tires on the pavement made their continuous hum, she almost felt sleepy under the big green tarp. She pulled herself to one of the crates and used it as a pillow. The steel bed of the truck was her cot and the tarp her blanket. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to rest. The constant adrenaline rushes had paid a toll.

As she closed her eyes and her breathing slowed, she thought of only one thing…how happy Hatcher would be when he found her in the back of the truck.

Chapter 4

Captain Hollis waited while they mounted the sonic canon to the bottom of the helicopter. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched the techs run the control cables up into the cabin of the chopper and swap them out for one of the gun arrays. “Is this going to take much longer?”

The lead tech paused and glanced over his shoulder. “We’re working as fast as we can, sir. Trust me. You want this to be in perfect operating—”

“I know what it is, and I understand the necessity for it. I just need you to hurry.” His tone was anything but professional.

“Thirty more minutes, captain.” The tech turned back to his work and began threading cables through the bulkhead.

Hollis stifled a curse and turned to leave. He found his support team gearing up and decided to make an announcement. “You all are aware of our target? You realize this is your standard snatch and grab?”

Most of the men barely gave him a glance as they continued working. Their disdain for the science guy was palpable. Hollis was not satisfied with the mutterings he got in reply and stepped closer to the operators as they continued to ignore him. “Are you men hard of hearing?” He kicked over a chair and glared at them. “I realize the world has gone to shit, but this is still a military vessel, we are all military men, and the last time I checked, I outrank each and every one of you.”

One of the operators slowly turned and eyed the man in his desert fatigues. “We heard you. Sir.” The displeasure in his voice caused Hollis’ jaw to tic.

Captain Hollis stepped in and closed the gap between himself and insubordinate man. “Do you have any idea whom you’re dealing with, soldier?”

“A science geek.” The man’s eyes narrowed at Hollis. “With captain’s bars.”

“Negative soldier. You’re speaking to a Green Beret.” He watched the man’s eyes slowly open wider with shock, then recognition as he saw the unit patch on his shoulder. “With captain’s bars.”

The soldier snapped to attention and shouted, “Apologies, sir.”

Hollis stared at him from boot to chin strap and shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter if I were spec op or not. You men know better than to disrespect a ranking officer.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Hollis ground his teeth as he considered his options, but decided he might need the men once they reached the park. “Get your shit together and get to the chopper. Double time!”

Hollis turned and strode from the room with purpose in his step. It had been a long time since he’d worn the uniform, and he felt the pride and purpose he’d once felt rising to the surface again.

As he stepped to the helicopter he observed the techs testing the controls for the sonic canon. “Is it ready?”

“Affirmative, sir. Just making minor tweaks.”

Hollis checked his watch and saw the pilots walking out to perform their pre-flight checks. Just in time. He wouldn’t want it to be too late when they hit New Mexico.

Hatcher continued driving along the highway, slowing only to navigate around those cars that were dead and sticking out into the roadway. Luckily, there weren’t any blocking the way entirely, but he knew that was only a matter of time. Bridges, on ramps, off ramps, anywhere the road narrowed and bottlenecked was a perfect place for them to get stuck. Even the large grill guard and heavy pipe bumpers could only do so much when it came to pushing dead machinery out of the way.

“That was some hairy stuff back there.” Jason propped a boot up on the dash and flashed Hatch a grin.

Hatcher resisted rolling his eyes, instead focusing on the road ahead. “That was nothing. The real hairy stuff is out there.” He indicated with his chin out the windshield of the truck. “Trust me, it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.”

Bren shot a glance at Jason who only shrugged. “Hey, man. You forget we’ve been out there in this, too. It’s not like we just woke up and the world had gone to shit yesterday, ya know.”

“You’ve been bouncing from place to place, scavenging for what you needed. This is a road trip across hostile territory, facing god only knows what—”

“We know what’s out there.” Jason interrupted.

Hatcher slowed the truck and shot him an impertinent stare. “Oh, you do? So, you’ve run into bands of renegade humans? You’ve come into swarms of the Zulus? I don’t mean the small bands of ten and twenty, I mean the swarms of hundreds…thousands of them. You know what to do when that happens?”

Jason swallowed hard and averted his eyes, finding something interesting on his shotgun that apparently needed his immediate attention. A mumbled sound came from his mouth that neither Hatcher nor Bren heard.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Hatch gripped the wheel tighter as he drove, his eyes narrowed.

“I said, no, I’ve never run into a swarm. Happy now?”

“No, actually, I’m not. I was hoping you had all kinds of experience surviving this apocalyptic nightmare. It would mean less work for me.”

“Please. Will you two just stop.” Bren placed a hand on each of their arms. “Building animosity between the two of you isn’t going to make this trip any easier to get through.”

“Hey, I didn’t start with all the Rambo stuff…”

“Jason!” She squeezed his arm to get his attention. “We’re going to need each other. To trust each other. This isn’t helping.”

Hatcher blew out a breath and lightened his grip on the wheel. “She’s right.” He shot a furtive glance toward to Jason. “I’m…sorry I busted your nuts back there. Things just…” he trailed off, his mind slipping back to how all of this started.

“Yeah. Me, too, I guess.” Jason continued to stare out the passenger window. “I’m just so used to being the one in charge when it’s just me and her. I’m not used to having to listen to anybody else.”

Hatcher nodded knowingly. “Well, kid, I can tell you this much. Once this trip is done, I’ll be out of your hair completely and you won’t have to listen to anybody boss you around except her.” He shot him a cheesy grin and noticed Bren smiling.

“That’s assuming we survive this trip.”

“Yup. Assuming we survive this trip.” Hatch slowed the truck and eased to the shoulder. “I haven’t seen any Zulus in a while and we have a lot of flat land around us. I’m going to check the truck for damage from our escape.”

Jason opened the door and climbed up the back of the cab. “I’ll be able to see farther from up here.”

Bren stepped down and went to the back. “I need to pee.”

Hatcher made the rounds on the truck, paying special attention to the front bumpers and the axles. The drive shafts were clear, and nothing seemed to be dripping from under the truck. As he pulled himself from underneath the rig, Bren called out, “Hatcher. You might want to come back here.”

Hatch glanced up at Jason, “I’m not sharing my toilet paper.”

“She can use your sleeve,” Jason deadpanned.

Hatcher rounded the back of the truck and froze in his tracks. Bren stood at the back of the truck, Skeeter by her side. She ran up and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly. “Surprise.”

“Sur-surprise?” Hatch stammered. “How the hell did you get here?”

“I snuck into the back of the truck before you left.” She beamed up at him. “I knew you’d be happy to see me.”

Hatcher clamped his jaw so tight he feared he would break a molar. “Damn it, Skeeter!” He pushed her away and stared. “You knew better than to follow along on this trip. There’s no way I can watch after you and them.”

“Why not? You watched after all of us back at the park. There were a lot more of us and you…”

“And I knew that place. I don’t know this area. I don’t know the terrain, who’s out here, what to expect. This whole trip is a crapshoot.” He planted his hands firmly on his hips and stared down at the girl. “How could you do this? You’ve jeopardized everything.”

Skeeter’s face fell and she backed away slowly. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No, you didn’t Leslie. You knew exactly what I expected of you.” Hatcher glanced back the way they came and then at his watch. “And we’ve come too far to turn back. Not to mention all the Zulus are stirred up. We couldn’t get back inside the compound now if we had to.”

Skeeter’s bottom lip began to quiver and she slid in next to Bren. “I just wanted to be with you when you got to the Free Zone.”

Hatch turned a shocked look at her and shook his head. “Skeeter, there is no Free Zone. That’s just a fairy tale they tell little kids as a bedtime story. For crying out loud you’re eleven years old…nearly twelve. You should know better than to…” He sighed heavily and stepped closer to her. Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I thought you knew that.”

She gave him a wounded look. Her hopes had been destroyed. Her dreams dashed on the broken asphalt with his words. How could he have said such a thing? “You’re lying.”

“No, kiddo, I’m not.” He pulled her to him and she resisted at first. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Skeet. There is no Free Zone.”

“This is heartwarming and all, but I still need to pee.” Bren raised a brow at the pair. “Can you take it to the cab?”

Hatcher pulled Skeeter reluctantly to the cab of the truck and helped her up. “It’s gonna be tight up there. You’re gonna have to keep your head down when we tell you, and do exactly what we tell you, when we tell you. Got it?”

“I got it.” Skeeter scooted across the vinyl bench seat and watched as Hatch stepped up into the cab and shut the door. A moment later, Bren was sliding back in, then Jason slipped down off the cab and into the truck with them. When the passenger door clanged shut, Hatch fired the engine back to life and pushed the truck into gear.

“Jason, keep your eyes open. We’re not just looking for the Zulus, we need to be watching for renegade people, too.” Hatcher steered the truck around a dead car and back onto the road.

“Renegades…are you serious?” Jason shot him a questioning look.

“Deadly. We don’t know this area. There’s a good possibility that groups of people have established a stronghold and are acting as warlords or gangs or heaven knows what else.”

“Great. This trip just gets better and better.” Jason slid forward in the seat and placed his hands on the dash, eyes scanning the horizon.

“Just keep your eyes peeled for anything that doesn’t look natural.” Hatcher shifted gears and pushed the old truck harder.

“Define natural.” Jason cocked his head to peer out the side of the truck.

“Stacks of dead cars, blockades, pits dug into the ground, anything that just seems out of the ordinary. I mean, you used to drive, didn’t you?” Jason nodded as he continued to watch. “Anything that didn’t look like it used to.”

“So, everything?”

“I think you’re smart enough to grasp what I’m getting at.” Hatcher pointed to a line of dead cars. “Like that. We’re used to seeing dead cars on the side of the road. But if we saw them coming together to form a funnel and cars turned to where they could be pushed to block the road at the narrowest point? That’s not good.”

“Okay.” Jason nodded. “I think I’m catching what you’re saying.” He spotted the decaying bodies of livestock in the pasture to their right, carrion birds flying overhead or sitting atop the bones and picking at what little was left. “I’m guessing that is natural.”

“It’s not a trap. We’re not concerned with things that aren’t traps.”

“Crimeny. This is going to be a long trip.” Jason leaned back and moaned. “What makes you so concerned about traps out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway?”

Hatcher shot the man a withering stare. “When you stumbled upon us, what were your initial thoughts?”

“Relief.” Bren replied. “You saved us from the runners.”

“After that.” Hatcher’s voice took on an edge and Jason and Bren both allowed themselves to remember the fear they felt when facing the men inside the warehouse.

“Fear.” Bren whispered.

“I don’t know how to put into words what I felt. Powerless, I guess.” Jason continued to stare out the windshield, but cast quick glances at Hatcher.

“And we’re the good guys. Imagine if we hadn’t been. All the evil things you might have imagined wouldn’t even begin to touch what people are capable of once you’ve removed law and order from the picture.”

Bren shuddered and Skeeter cast a worried look to her. “So, what would these people do?”

Hatcher shook his head. On one hand he wanted to protect Skeeter from the horrors taking place out here in the world, but on the other he felt he needed her to understand why he made the decisions he made. With a heavy sigh, Hatcher leaned against the steering wheel. “Skeet, they do all sorts of horrible things. They’ll raid other people’s camps to steal food, weapons, equipment…anything they think they can use. If they feel it will help them survive, they take it and they don’t care who they hurt. They steal the women for sex or to be slaves. Sometimes the children, too, if they think the kids are of any worth.”

Skeeter looked to him, her face blank. “What about the men?”

“They just kill them. Any who are strong enough to help fight they assume will try to take revenge one day. The ones who aren’t strong enough to fight aren’t worth keeping around.” Hatcher turned a troubled eye to the teenager. “It’s a brutal world now, kiddo. All the more reason I wanted you to stay back where it was safe.”

Bren wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And that doesn’t count the runners. You already know what they do to folks that they can catch.”

Skeeter turned away and tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hatcher.”

“What’s done is done. We just have to make the best of a bad situation.” Hatcher geared down and slowed the truck for cars blocking the highway. “Jason can you see around these?”

“Nope. But I don’t see any that can be pushed to block the road.” He rolled the window down and stuck his head out. “Hold on a second.” He sat up on the edge of the door and stared out over the dead cars. Slipping back into the cab he began rolling the window back up. “I only see four cars and the sides of the road are clear. If you wanted to go around them you should be able to.”

Hatcher slowed the truck even more and studied the flat landscape surrounding the blockage. It was a remote area, but a little too remote for this many cars to have blocked the highway completely. “My gut doesn’t feel right about this.”

Hatcher stopped the truck about fifty yards shy of the dead cars. He leaned against the steering wheel and stared at the four cars sitting crooked in the road. “Something looks off over here.”

Jason reached for the door handle just as Hatcher yelled, “Get down!” He shoved the truck into gear and popped the clutch, jumping the truck forward as a makeshift spear came out of nowhere and struck the front fender. Had he not leapt the truck forward, there was a good chance the front tire would now be flat. Hatch pushed the big military truck forward, his eyes scanning for the source of the spear. “I can’t see them!”

Jason popped his head up and glanced out across his side of the cab. “I can’t see anything on this side, either.”

Hatcher rolled the large truck to the first of the four cars and pushed the much smaller machine off the road and into the ditch. As the tires slid in the soft dirt and sand, he heard a muffled pop and saw dirt and debris fly up into the air through the side window. “They booby-trapped the right of way!” He mashed the accelerator and continued pushing cars out of the way.

“I got one!” Jason pulled his shotgun up from the floor and was reaching for the window crank when Hatcher yelled at him to save the ammo.

“Don’t waste your ammo unless we have to stop.” The truck jarred and jumped as each car impacted the heavy pipe bumper and was pushed out of their way. “If you roll down the window, they have a clear shot at our heads.”

Rocks and more makeshift spears bounced off the thick metal sides of the truck. The rear window shattered into a spider web of cracks but remained in place as the truck was pelted with stones. Hatcher pushed the last of the cars to the side of the road and felt the whump of a blast as the side of the road erupted with flying debris.

“Where the hell do they get explosives if they’re attacking the truck with rocks and sticks?” Jason yelled.

“Those are spears.” Hatcher pushed the truck harder to accelerate and checked the side mirrors in time to see a small group of people scramble to the road and watch them drive away. “They’re either out of ammo or they were trying to scare us into driving off the road.”

“This is nuts.” Jason turned around and tried to look out the back of the ruined rear window. “I can’t see shit behind us.”

“I’m tempted to have you climb in the back and keep watch. Where there’s one group there’s likely to be more.”

Skeeter turned to Hatcher and squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

“The hell you will.” Hatcher shifted gears and mashed the accelerator again. “You’re keeping your skinny ass in the truck.”

Jason huffed as he sat up straighter. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He opened the door and fought the wind as he stepped onto the running board. “Try not to hit any big bumps until I get back there.”

Hatcher slowed the truck slightly while Jason climbed to the back of the truck. He leaned across the edge of the bedside and tapped on the glass. “Hand me the shotgun.”

Bren rolled the window down and slipped the gun to him. “Be careful out there.”

“You know it, babe.” Jason rolled across the tarp and grabbed the headboard of the truck, pulling himself up so that he could look out in front of the road ahead of them.

Hatcher rolled his window down and yelled out to him, “Beat on the cab if you spot anything.”

Jason tapped the cab once then settled in for what he was sure would be one hell of a ride.

“Junior got his ass blowed up when they pushed the Mazda off the road.” The man was covered in dirt and the creases along the sides of his eyes looked as if someone had carved them with a knife. His long shaggy hair was filled with dirt and debris from having buried himself along the roadway. Brown spit splattered the road beside him as he spat the tobacco juice.

“How’d he know we were here?” The tall leather clad man asked rhetorically. “We spotted them miles away and had plenty of time to get set up. This should have worked. Again.”

“Maybe this’n is smarter than the others?”

The leather-clad leader watched as the large military truck drove on, black smoke belching from the exhaust. He squinted in the midafternoon sun and shook his head. “Lucky is more like it.” He turned quickly to the others gathered around him. “Mount up. I want what’s in that truck.”

The dirty man spat again and looked to the leader. “What’s in the truck, Simon? I only saw the driver.”

Simon turned on him slowly. “Then that’s what I want. Everything in that truck is mine now. So, Simon says, get your nasty ass on your bike and run him down.” He slapped the filthy man upside the head, pushing him away from him.

The group slid through the loose right of way and pulled the desert tarp from their motorcycles. One by one they mounted and fired up the two wheeled iron horses. As each man pulled up onto the roadway, dust billowed behind them. Simon Sewell had fought long and hard to become top dog of his motorcycle club before the world started trying to eat itself. He’d be damned if he’d let something as simple as the zombie apocalypse stop him from his ambitions. So, there was no way he’d let a fellow get away with crossing his territory without paying dues.

And the dues for crossing Simon’s territory was death…

Candy sat atop the roof of the warehouse once more, this time observing the area for Zulus out during the day. Fewer and fewer were coming out during the heat of the afternoon and were reserving their energies for hunting at night. She didn’t know if it was because more game was out at night or if the mad, screaming monsters were slowly turning nocturnal, but she was glad for the respite.

She scanned the area and listened intently for any yells, yips, or screams. Her scope magnified the area so she could see clearly anything within shooting distance. She often prayed she could stumble across just one sign that things were improving. Perhaps a convoy of people, or the military, or even a damned ice cream truck at this point. She smiled to herself as she considered what she would actually do if an ice cream truck pulled up to the warehouse. She didn’t even carry money any longer. What use was it?

She settled in more comfortably and rested the stock against her shoulder as the bipod held the business end up and at the ready. She continued to scan the area when a familiar noise tickled at her ear. She pulled her eye from the reticle of the scope and tilted her head slightly.

It can’t be. Can it?

She reached for her radio but didn’t key it. Her finger poised just above the button. She continued to listen as the sound played along the edges of her ability to hear. It would fade in, then fade out, then fade back in again. It was almost as if the source were travelling back and forth, slowly moving closer.

Candy stood up, knowing she was exposing herself to any Zulus in the area. She reached for her binoculars and scanned the sky. She thought she spotted something dark, but lost it as it moved behind the tall trees close to her. She lowered the field glasses and listened again. It was definitely getting closer.

She picked up her radio and keyed it. “Wally, we got something out here.”

After a moment, her radio came to life and Wally replied. “Zulus?”

“Negative. I think there’s a chopper running a grid pattern out here.”

“A what? Say again, Candy. It sounded like you said a chopper.” The radio gave a squeal of static then went silent.

She keyed hers again and nodded, her other hand bringing the field glasses back to her face. “You heard correctly. There’s a chopper out here, and it’s running a grid pattern.” She lowered her radio and listened again. She lifted her radio and reported, “They’re announcing something, but I can’t make it out yet.”

Candy clipped the radio to her belt and watched as the helicopter slowly worked its way closer. As it made another pass, she distinctly heard the announcement. “Mr. Daniel Hatcher, your assistance is needed by the government and the CDC. If you can hear this recording, please find a way to make contact with this mobile unit. We are monitoring citizens band channels 19 and 4, and are broadcasting at military frequencies at 250 and 350 Mhz.” After a short pause, the announcement started over again.

Candy stepped back from the edge of the building and pulled her radio from her belt again. “Wally, they’re looking for Hatcher.”

“Fat lot of good that will do them. He’s long gone.”

Candy watched as the helicopter banked and began to swing back in her direction. “They don’t know that though.”

“What are you going to do, Candy?” Wally asked nervously. “We don’t know who these people are.”

“They know Hatcher is here. Well, that he was here.” She watched as the chopper slowly approached, its message growing louder than the chop of the blades. “I’m going to see if I can get their attention.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Candy.” Wally waited for her to reply, then keyed the radio again. “Candy?” He turned and looked to Vicky who only shrugged, her eyes wide. “Candy!”

Chapter 5

“How do I know you aren’t just hiding him?” The tall military man stared at Candy, doing his best to intimidate her. She shifted her rifle on her hip and smirked.

“Why the hell would I have to hide Danny from the likes of you?” She cocked her head and gave him a sideways look. “You sure sound paranoid as hell for someone who’s just looking for the man.”

“Experience has told me when someone is being searched for, they’re usually going out of their way to not be found.” Hollis did his best to sneer at her. He was getting the distinct impression this woman would not be pressured. “I just need to grab the man long enough to escort me and my team back through Yellowstone.”

Candy snorted a laugh and shook her head at the man. “You’re so full of shit I can smell you from here.” She tapped her chest where her badge used to sit. “I was a cop long enough to know bullshit when I hear it, and my bullshit-o-meter just pegged out.”

Hollis sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Look lady, I’m not bullshitting you. We were sent on this mission by the president of the United States himself. We know that Daniel Hatcher hailed from this area and assumed he’d return here when things got…bad.”

“You mean when shit hit the fan, you figured he’d tuck tail and run home?”

“No, not at all. We just assumed he’d want to check on his family…why are we even having this discussion? Just hand him over, please. I need to speak with him.”

She cocked a brow. “And if he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

Hollis blew out a breath and shrugged. “Could you at least tell him we have scientists who are this close to finding a cure to this thing? The virus has mutated, and they need the original strain in order to find a working vaccine.” His features softened and he averted his eyes. “The only chance we have of getting in and out of that place is Daniel Hatcher.”

Candy read the man like a comic book. She knew he wasn’t lying. Once he dropped the false bravado and the intimidation techniques, she could tell he was being honest. Or, rather, there was at least a kernel of truth to his story.

The rifle that leaned on her hip had been pointed slightly in their direction. She slowly swung it to the side and nodded. “Okay. I buy your story.”

Hollis’ face brightened. “So, you’ll let us talk to him?”

Candy shrugged. “I would, but he’s not here. He left with some people who showed up here and—”

“Wait!” Hollis interrupted, his head swiveling to check the surrounding area. “He’s out there now? On foot?”

“No, they took a truck. A big military truck.”

“Son of a bitch!” Hollis made a motion with his hand and his team began loading up the helicopter again. “Which direction did they go?”

“North. Toward Colorado. They’re headed to some CDC place…” Candy trailed off as Hollis spun on his heel and jogged back toward the helicopter.

“Get us in the air! Now!” The chopper began spinning up the rotors as Hollis’ men loaded back inside.

Candy shielded her face from the dirt and debris that washed up toward her from the rotating blades. She debated on trying to get close enough to finish telling him why they had left, but she shook it off. If they found Hatcher, he could tell them. If this guy was really trying to find a cure, he’ll definitely be interested in the woman Hatcher was escorting.

Hatcher rolled the window down and hung his arm out. He continuously scanned the area ahead and to the sides as the truck pushed onward. Skeeter seemed to be clinging to Bren as the truck bounced along the highway. Hatcher tried not to notice the whispered talking between the two as he drove, but the tension was definitely building.

“Something you want to discuss?”

Skeeter turned to him and shook her head a little too quickly. “No, sir.”

Hatcher continued driving, his mind in a hundred other places when Skeeter finally turned to him and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the Free Zone was a lie?”

Hatcher barely cast a glance her way before answering, “I thought you were old enough to know better.” He shrugged in a defeated manner. “I guess I didn’t realize how powerful hope was.”

Skeeter was unreadable as Hatcher continued driving. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jason began banging on the cab of the truck. She heard him yell something, but couldn’t make out what it was.

Bren rolled down her window and Jason leaned toward the opening. “We got dust trails behind us. I think some of the folks from that ambush are following us.”

Hatcher tried to study the side mirror and read the roadway behind them. “I can’t make it out.” He dug in the door panel of the truck and withdrew a pair of binoculars. He held them out the window for Jason. “See if you can tell how many.”

Jason spun around and braced his back against the headache rack of the truck. He brought the binoculars up and stared behind them. He studied the dust trails for a moment, then handed the binoculars back to Hatcher. “I can make out two, possibly three in pursuit. Looks like they’re on motorcycles.”

Hatcher rubbed at his stubbled chin and continued driving, the gears of his mind spinning. “We could stop and engage them…,” he said more to himself than anything.

“No!” Skeeter shook her head vehemently. “Please don’t, Hatch. I don’t trust—”

“No worries, kiddo,” he interrupted. “I was just thinking out loud.” He stared out the tall side mirror again and could see the dust trails getting closer. “The other option is let them catch up, then use the truck to run them off the road.”

“Can’t we outrun them?”

Hatcher gave Skeeter a lopsided grin. “Not in this thing.”

Bren was turned around and staring through the slats of the headache rack. “Is Jason safe out there?”

Hatcher shrugged. “Safe enough. The only thing that can shoot this far is a rifle, and he can duck down inside the bed. I reckon it will slow a bullet about as much as this cab will.” He stole a glance to the back and saw Jason shoving gear toward the rear of the shallow bed, forming a protective wall between him and the pursuers.

Jason laid down and propped his shotgun up on the duffles, using the bags to steady it.

Hatcher smiled at the young man’s intuition. “Looks like he’s making ready to take them out before they can get too close.”

A hollow ping echoed inside the cab and it took Hatcher a moment to realize they were being shot at. Fortunately, the distance was still a bit too far for the round to be effective. “And so it begins.”

“Was that a bullet?” Skeeter ducked lower into the seat and clung to Bren’s leg.

“I think so.” Hatcher banged on the side of the truck to get Jason’s attention. When the younger man slid up behind the cab, Hatcher handed out his carbine. “This has a longer reach than that shotgun.”

Jason spun it around in his hands and studied the weapon. Hatcher yelled at him, “Do you know how to use it?”

Jason cracked a sly grin. “Point the end the bullets come out of toward them, right?” He shot Hatcher a wink, then slid to the rear of the bed. He pushed the shotgun aside and laid the carbine across the duffles.

Peering through the scope, he was able to bring the riders into focus. “Let’s give them a little something to sweat over.” He placed the crosshairs on the lead rider and squeezed the trigger. He forced his eyes to stay open to see if he could watch the rider swerve and fall, but the round fell short. He raised the crosshair and tried to compensate for the distance then squeezed the trigger again.

The round still fell short, but this time, he managed to strike the motorcycle, causing the lead rider to almost lose his balance. He watched as the front of the bike began to wobble and the rider slowed.

Jason raised the crosshairs even higher and squeezed off another round. This time the rider tumbled from the bike and become lost in the dust cloud raised by the others. Jason stood up on his knees and whooped. “I got one!”

Another round pinged off the cab of the truck and Jason dropped back below the protective stack of equipment. He brought the carbine back up and peered through the scope. He set the crosshairs back on the new lead rider and raised the crosshairs to just above his head. Squeezing the trigger, he watched as that rider fell from his motorcycle, the bike tumbling as it hit the ditch.

Jason felt his mouth go dry as he found the next rider in his crosshairs. The man looked evil and angry, and was obviously pushing the motorcycle at full throttle as he closed the gap between the two. Jason had difficulty keeping the crosshairs on him as the man swerved from one lane to the other. He saw the man pull a rifle from his back and lay it across his handlebars. Jason tried again to get the man in his crosshairs and saw the puff of smoke from the barrel just as a bullet whizzed by his head and echoed off the metal headache rack of the bed.

He ducked and rolled to the other side of the makeshift barricade and lay the carbine across the top, doing his best to catch the rider in the crosshairs before he swerved to the other lane. He could see the rider raise his rifle and shoot one handed as he gunned the motorcycle once more.

Jason ducked and felt the round impact the large duffle he was using as cover. “Son of a bitch!” he cursed as he popped back up and squeezed off two more rounds. He didn’t bother to aim and noticed that neither round was close.

Jason ducked back low and heard yet another round ricochet off the side of the bed. “This guy is too squirrely!” he yelled toward the cab. “I can’t get a bead on him.”

Hatcher let off the accelerator and Jason wanted to scream at him to go faster when an unfamiliar sound broke the air. Jason leaned up to see if the biker had miraculously closed the distance, but the sight he beheld left him speechless.

The lead biker had turned around and was going back, a large military helicopter hovering between where he was and the truck. The chopper was turned toward the biker and Jason saw tufts of dirt and pavement erupt behind the biker as he ran full throttle. Apparently, whoever was in the chopper wanted to emphasize the Don’t come back essence of his Go away message.

Jason came up to one knee and raised the carbine to his eye. He peered through the scope and could just make out the men in the cockpit of the chopper. It looked like military uniforms and he cautiously sighed with relief.

He felt the truck come to a full stop and the driver door opened. Hatcher climbed to the back of the truck and reached for his carbine.

“Who are they?”

Hatcher shook his head. “No idea. But right now, I’m gonna go with the enemy of my enemy line of thought.”

The helicopter closed the distance and slowly lowered to the ground just behind the truck, the wheels settling softly on the dry pavement. The blades slowed, but didn’t stop as the side door opened and men in desert camo stepped out.

Hatcher’s eyes narrowed as they brought weapons to bear on the truck, and he felt his own hand tightening on the grip of the carbine. A tall man stepped out from the chopper and began walking across the cracked pavement toward the truck. He stopped just shy of the truck and placed his hands on his hips.

“My name is Captain A. J. Hollis. I’m looking for Daniel Hatcher.”

Hatcher cocked his head to the side and stared at the man. He couldn’t make out much past the dark sunglasses and Kevlar helmet, but the man had an air of authority about him. He lowered his carbine and stepped toward the back of the truck.

“I’m Hatcher.” He jumped down from the truck and laid the carbine across his arms. “What can I do you for?”

Captain Hollis smiled and stepped forward, his hand extended. “Mister Hatcher, you’re a difficult man to track down.”

Hatcher studied the extended hand, and although warning bells were ringing through the back of his mind, he reached out and shook it. “You didn’t say why you were looking for me.”

“That’s a long story in itself, Mister Hatcher.” Captain Hollis turned and waved toward the chopper. “If you’ll just come with me, I can explain en route.”

Hatcher pulled back and shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere with you, captain.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the truck. “We have a mission of our own, thank you.”

Captain Hollis waivered for just a moment and Hatcher saw the two men holding the truck at gunpoint begin to step forward. Hollis raised a hand, stopping them, and Hatcher felt the need to bring his own weapon to bear.

“Let’s not do anything we’ll regret later, Mister Hatcher.” Hollis held his hands up, placating the man.

“I’ve got a passenger on this truck I have to get to the CDC in Colorado. She’s—”

“There is no CDC in Colorado, Mister Hatcher. It was overrun early into this…thing.” Hollis pointed back to the chopper. “What’s left of the CDC is now offshore on naval vessels.”

Hatcher felt the color drain from his face and he took a half-step back. “No more CDC?”

“Not in Colorado. Actually, there’s no more working labs on the mainland.”

Hatcher felt the wind knocked from his sails and he cast a furtive glance back toward the truck. “But…the girl. She’s immune.”

Hollis nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ve run into a small handful of people who are. Unfortunately, we haven’t found a way to make a vaccine from their immunity.”

Hatcher’s legs went weak and he bent down, settling on one knee as he let the realization sink in. “So…no more CDC, no vaccine from the immune…what’s left?”

Hollis smiled and Hatcher noted it was genuine. “We have a plan, sir, but we need your assistance.”

Hatcher raised his eyes and squinted as the sun cast the man into silhouette. “What plan?”

“If you’ll come with me, sir, I’ll explain.”

Hatcher looked back toward the truck. “I can’t leave them here…they’d never survive.”

Hollis nodded. “We’ll act as an escort if you want to take them back to the stronghold. But then we’ll need you to come with us.”

Hatcher stared at the bullet hole ridden truck and shook his head. “If you can just give them a lift back…we can leave the truck.”

Hollis stretched his hand out once more. “Of course, Mister Hatcher. If you’ll all come this way.”

Simon kicked through the debris and chunks of meat that was once his men. He looked down the road toward the truck still sitting alone on the highway and stifled his frustrated scream. He grabbed the lone survivor who encountered the truck and pulled him close. “Tell me again how some preppy golf pro and a couple of kids got the better of you.”

The dirty man trembled and shook his head. “T-they had a helicopter. One of them big military jobs with machine guns.”

“And where the hell did he hide that? His back pocket?” Simon pushed the man away and didn’t watch him as he tumbled down the embankment. “Get me that damned truck and whatever is still inside it!” He kicked at one of his minions as they scrambled for the motorcycle and fired it to life.

Simon waited a few moments then heard the radio crackle to life. “It’s empty inside. Nothing left but a few empty jugs.”

“Son of a bitch!” Simon kicked at the sand and tugged the ragged ends of his beard. He suddenly looked up and smiled through jagged, stained teeth. “Bring me the truck.”

The dirty biker had climbed back to join the others and felt compelled to ask, “What ya gonna do with the truck, boss?”

“Figure out where it came from.”

“I doubt it’s registered to them, Simon. That’s an old military truck.”

Simon turned and glared at the man. “Don’t need no registration, dumbass. We’re gonna figure out how far they came and then backtrack. Once we figure out what town they came from, we hunt down their hiding place.”

The dirty man smiled and nodded, his mind still not connecting the dots. “Okay…but then what?”

“Then what? Then we take what we want and leave the rest to the cannibal crazies, that’s what.” Simon began to laugh as the multiple possibilities ran through his mind. Food, women, firearms, ammunition…and if he was lucky, liquor. “We’re gonna clean ’em out and take what’s ours.”

Vickers knocked once then stepped inside the president’s office. “We’ve located Hatcher. Hollis just radioed in.”

President Walters looked up from the papers in front of him and nodded. “He didn’t resist in any way?”

“No, sir. Apparently, they were under attack by some rogue bikers. A military helicopter firing a few well-placed rounds scattered the attackers and won Hatcher’s good graces.”

President Walters placed his pen down and stared out the small window. “Hatcher’s home was under attack and he just decides to leave it all behind?”

“Negative, sir. Apparently, he was en route to Colorado. Claims he has a woman with him that is immune. He thought the CDC was still up and running there, and they could make a cure from her immunity.”

President Walters turned and gave him a curious look. “Is that a viable alternative?”

Vickers shrugged. “If she is truly immune, I suppose it’s possible. But as much as the virus has mutated, it could be that she is simply immune to the latest variation.”

Walters nodded. “And that’s what we’re facing now, yes? Why not bring her in and see?”

“We will, sir. When the time is right.” Vickers poured himself a drink and sat down opposite his commander in chief. “As it stands now, we still need that primordial sample.”

Walter’s eyes narrowed, and he studied the man across from him. “What are you not telling me, Vickers?”

Colonel William Vickers smiled and twirled the glass in his fingers. “We intend to bring her in, but we need to make it appear as though we are offering sanctuary to all of the people in their compound. If we simply snatch the immune one and leave the rest…there may be complications.”

President Walters groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, she is important.”

“Yes, sir. But we can’t allow the others to know that just yet.” He swallowed his drink and set the glass back on the tray. “Trust me on this one, sir. We have a viable plan.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where we’d be snatching people from their homes, against their will, in an effort to find an end to this.”

“This is war, sir. War is ugly.”

Walters leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t mean we have to surrender our humanity in order to win it.”

Vickers nodded and stood up. “Unfortunately, sir, times as they are, it does.”

Chapter 6

Candy stood upon the rooftop as the large military helicopter chopped its way across the sky. This time she was prepared as the craft settled in for a landing. She squeezed her eyes shut and shielded her face from the bits of debris that the blades churned up.

“Same bird?” Henry yelled above the noise.

“Looks like it.” Candy bent low and continued to shield her face. “Damned if they won’t have every Zulu for miles zeroed in on us.”

Henry had his back turned to the churning blades and slowly turned to face the machine once the wind died down. He nearly choked when Hatcher stepped out of the open door with Skeeter and the couple in tow. “He don’t look happy.”

Daniel practically dragged Skeeter toward Candy and handed her to the woman. “Do something with her.”

Candy gave him a curious look. “Like what?”

“I would say ground her, but it’s not like you can take her cell phone.” He glared at Skeeter who avoided his gaze.

Candy gave the young girl a disapproving stare. “I’m sure we can find extra chores she can do.”

Daniel marched past the trio and entered the building. Candy tried to catch up and had to yell, “Where are you going?”

“To get my gear.”

She paused and turned to Skeeter. “Any idea what he’s up to?”

She shrugged. “I think he’s leaving with the Army guys.”

Candy groaned and trotted after Hatcher. She stopped at the doorway and pointed a finger at Skeeter. “You, down below now. And I better see elbows swinging, young lady.” She pulled the door open and disappeared into the darkness.

Skeeter turned to Henry and shrugged. “What does she mean, elbows swinging?”

Henry patted her shoulder and gave her a gentle push toward the doorway. “That means you better get busy cleaning something and don’t slow down. Especially if she comes around.”

Skeeter sighed heavily and trudged toward the door, regretting her decision to stow away.

Candy caught up to Hatcher and pulled his arm to get his attention. “Hey, I was calling you.”

Daniel turned back to his things and stuffed more gear into a small duffel. “I’m in a rush.”

“No shit.” Candy planted her hands on her hips and continued to watch him ignore her. “Mind telling me who the hell they are?”

“Military.” Hatcher fought back a shudder as the word escaped his lips.

“Again, no shit. What are they doing on the roof and why were they looking for you earlier?”

Hatcher paused and took a deep breath. “They need someone who knows the park.” He turned and faced her. “They pulled our fat out of the fire…so to speak.”

“How so?”

He shook his head, too many thoughts running through his mind at once to make a coherent sentence.

“Breathe, Hatcher. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He dropped his duffel and took a deep breath. “There’s some scientist soldier onboard that craft. They need to get back to the park and get a sample of the…contagion…that caused all of this.”

“Just catch a Zulu and drain them.” She caught herself grinning.

“They can’t. Apparently, the virus has mutated somehow and now they need the original strain.” He picked up his duffel and began shoving more gear into it.

“Wait. So, why do they need you?”

“I know the park. Better than anybody.”

“And just how do they know this?” Her voice dripped with doubt and Hatcher knew exactly why.

“They’re with the government, Candy. According to them, they salvaged what was left of the government and have everybody off shore on some kind of flotilla. They’re working on a cure, but they need the original strain, and the only way to get that is if I lead them through the park to where it came from.”

“Do you know where it came from?” Candy’s voice dropped low and she glanced around to make sure nobody overheard.

“Sort of.” Hatcher tugged at the zipper and sealed his duffel. He stood up straight and eyed her. “They said it is a heat loving virus and it originated at the park. That tells me it came from one of the hot springs. Probably near where they dropped the bomb.”

“Good lord.”

“And since I know the place—”

“Hatcher, that place must be crawling with Zulus. You’d be walking into cannibal central.”

“I won’t be alone. There will be soldiers with me.” He slung the duffel and tried to step around her. She immediately put herself in his way again.

“There were soldiers there last time, and last I heard, they didn’t walk out.”

“That was then. Surely they’ve either moved on or…or have starved to death.” Daniel tried again to step around her and Candy placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Hold on just a cotton-pickin’ minute.” She pushed him back farther into his room. “Talk to me, Hatcher. People are going to want to know what the hell is going on.”

Hatcher sighed and dropped the duffel again. “Look, Candy, all I know is, they’re working on a cure and they need me to get through the park.”

“And how did they pull your fat from the fire?”

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Hatcher scratched at his chin. “You might want to keep people close on their scavenger hunts. There’s groups of people out there that…well, they’re not infected, but they’re worse than the Zulus.”

“Bandits?”

“That’s one thing you could call them.” Hatcher glanced passed her shoulder and saw Henry approaching. “Just keep our people close. Don’t take any chances.”

“What about Jason and Bren?”

Hatcher paused and shook his head. “Apparently Fort Collins is gone. There’s nothing there.” He waved Henry closer as the man approached. “They’ve got a makeshift CDC on one of the ships and we’re going to fly Jason and Bren to the flotilla before we head up to the park.”

“Woah. You’re going back to Yellowstone?” Henry wedged himself between the two in the small quarters and gave Daniel a questioning stare. “What the hell for?”

“They need me to escort them through the park. They need a sample of the original contagion.” Hatcher sighed. “Candy can fill you in. All I know is, time is of the essence here.” He picked up his duffel again and turned to Candy. “Remember, keep our people close. Extra diligence on the wall and keep your eyes peeled for these assholes. They don’t play well with others.”

“Meaning they like to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Exactly.” Hatcher clapped Henry on the shoulder. “Keep a close eye on everybody. Especially Skeeter. She’s…getting too big for her britches.”

“You know it, Hatch, but—”

Candy interrupted, “I’ll fill you in Hank. Daniel has places he has to be.” She stepped aside and let Hatcher pass.

“What the hell is going on here, Candy?”

She sighed and watched Daniel practically run through the hall. “They’re with the government and they’re here to help.”

Henry groaned. “Fuck me.”

Daniel tossed his duffel into the chopper and stepped up into the craft. He quickly sat and strapped in.

“Got everything?” Hollis asked.

“What I could think to grab.”

“Maps?” Hollis asked hopefully.

Daniel tapped the side of his head. “Got all of that up here.”

Hollis banged on the backside of the cabin and yelled into his mic, “Let’s go. I want to be back onboard before sundown.”

Hatcher listened to the engines rev and watched as the craft gently lifted from the roof of what had become their home. He closed his eyes until they reached cruising altitude and he could feel the air whipping through the open door. He settled into his seat and slowly opened his eyes.

Buildings slid by underneath the craft and he craned his neck to see if he could spot the marauders anywhere near the town. To his relief they weren’t to be seen. He leaned back and felt a gentle touch on his leg. He glanced to the side to see Bren staring at him with wide eyes.

He keyed his coms. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure we can trust these guys?”

Hollis leaned forward, catching her attention. “We can hear you.” He smiled, tapping his headphones.

Bren blanched and sat back, eyes studying the soldier across from her. Hatcher waved the man off and turned to her. “If we could have gotten you and Jason to Fort Collins, odds are, these are the same people who would have tried to help. The only real difference is, you’re going to a much safer place.”

Hollis nodded. “We have the best equipment, the best minds…hell, the only minds left now. But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you. You’ll be safe offshore. You won’t have to worry about anything attacking you in your sleep.”

Jason watched the pair as they spoke, listening to every word. He wished he could know what the large soldier was thinking, as something about his demeanor, his voice…something about him was setting off alarm bells.

He switched to the secondary channel and listened to the pilots chat, occasionally reporting their whereabouts to a third party. They used jargon he wasn’t familiar with, but he felt he had the gist of most of it. After a bit, he switched off his headphones and simply watched the ground go by underneath the craft.

He’d lost track of time. He was originally looking for a building he could identify, some recognizable structure to give him a perspective on where they were. But between each small gathering of buildings that constituted a town were endless miles of barren terrain. He could feel the heat increase on the wind and he knew it was one last surge before the air started chilling. It wouldn’t be long and the skies would darken. He leaned toward the door and stared outward. With no idea how far they actually had left to go, he decided to close his eyes and pray for sleep.

Simon drew a circle on the map and stared in the general direction of where the truck had come. “It’s out there somewhere. We’re gonna find it.”

The minion he called Squirrel piped in. “You pretty certain on that range?”

Simon nodded. “Their fuel cans are all still full. They have three quarters of a tank left. That pretty much narrows it down to here.”

Squirrel looked at the map, then glanced down the road. “They were headed north on 25. There’s no dried mud on the chassis, so they didn’t come through Cochiti. It’s nearly impassible.” He pulled the map from Simon’s hands and studied it further. “Any place south of there is open possibilities.”

“We’ll take 14 to Cerrillos and work our way west from there.” He inhaled deeply and blew it out. “Do you smell that, Squirrel? Times, they be a changin’.”

Squirrel gave him a confused look. He was certain that Simon was off his rocker most of the time, but he’d kept the crew alive this long. He handed him back the map and yelled to the men, “Prepare for war!”

He watched as they hurriedly gathered weapons and supplies. They packed the saddle bags on their bikes with as much food and weaponry as they would hold.

“Are we coming back? Should we have the women pack up the camp and follow us?”

Simon shrugged. “One camp is as good as any other.” He shot Squirrel a crooked smile. “I reckon if we like their digs better, we can just move in.” He glanced at the families trying to help pack their men for war. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt morale if the men had something warm to come back to camp for.” He gave a curt nod.

Squirrel began shouting orders to break camp and prepare the cages for movement. The cages were four-wheeled vehicles that the families would follow in.

Squirrel swallowed his anger as he looked on. He had a wife once. The ragers took her from him. The few women who survived and gathered into their flock had been doled out to Simon’s lieutenants. Squirrel had been offered one shortly after he came on with the crew, but he wasn’t ready to share his life with somebody else again. He definitely didn’t want a partner given to him like a treat for a dog. If the time came for him to find another partner, he’d choose her himself.

He marched to the converted short bus he had been using as a makeshift home. He began packing his meager belongings and used one of the fuel cans to top off the tank of the bus. Some of the families could use it to follow them.

He started for the door, then paused. He reached above the driver’s seat and pulled the single photograph that was clipped to the visor. It was his wife. The only picture he had left. He rubbed his thumb gently across the side of her cheek, afraid he might scrub her image from the paper. Without a word, he stuffed the photograph into his jacket and zipped the pocket shut.

As soon as his feet hit the dusty ground, he tossed the keys to a passing woman. “The bus is yours.” He walked toward his bike as she began herding kids and supplies into the oven-baked vehicle.

He locked his saddle bags and ensured they were tightly secured. He zipped his jacket and straddled to the worn out Indian. As he fired the engine to life, he remembered when he first bought the bike. Polaris had just purchased the rights to revive the name and start production again. He beat a path to the dealer’s door and plopped his money down a full two years before the first bikes hit the dealerships.

He had enjoyed many a road trip with his wife before the ragers hit. The only thing that brought him more joy than the bike was her…and now she was gone. Since then, the old Chief had been his primary source of transportation and had saved his life more than once.

He pulled the bike out from the middle of camp and parked next to the highway. He shut off the engine and waited for the others in camp to get ready.

He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and knew it had to be Simon. Nobody else would dare.

“Take about six of the men and head toward Santa Ana Pueblo. See what you can see and report back. I’m gonna send Scratch with a handful towards Stanley. We’ll all meet up outside of Albuquerque.”

Squirrel nodded, then pointed to a group of men who were working their way toward the highway. “You’re with me.” He started the engine and eased out onto the asphalt. He glanced back to ensure the group was following, then accelerated.

Although Squirrel had been many things in the real world, he wasn’t looking forward to what they were about to do next. Yes, the world had changed. But he couldn’t pound the idea into Simon’s head that survivors should work together, not battle over resources.

More than once he considered leaving in the middle of the night. Just point the bike west and not look back until he hit the ocean. But he knew that there were just as many groups of people like theirs out there as there were herds of ragers. Although the thought brought him comfort, he knew his odds for survival were slim to none.

He took one last glance at the camp being broken down in his side mirrors, then goosed the accelerator. They had a lot of territory to cover and very little time to do it in.

He felt sorry for whomever they ran into. Whether this asshole in the truck was part of their group or not, whomever they ran into would be picked clean and left to the ragers.

Dr. Vivian LaRue rubbed her eyes, then tried again to refocus the microscope. She really didn’t like what she was seeing. All the antivirals they’d used to date were actively fought off by the host’s own immune system. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the mechanism. If they had been using a bacteriophage to deliver a foreign strand of DNA or even RNA, she could see the immune system fighting back. But antiviral drugs?

She had long since given up the idea of using a capsid to deliver rewritten nucleotides to overwrite the viral DNA. The body fought those even more aggressively. She was at her wit’s end on how to attack without the original primordial virus.

Her hopes were to study the primordial virus, discover a way to override the nucleotides within it, and basically inject hosts within it in order to eradicate the mutated forms. Without any samples of the primordial virus, she was lost. Of the dozen or so specimens brought onto the research vessel, none carried the original primordial virus. Either they had been infected with a mutated form, or the virus they carried mutated within the body.

She sighed and rubbed her neck as she stared at the specimens through the two-way acrylic window. The first infected they dropped into the holding rooms tried desperately to attack their reflections. It wasn’t until they brought in the ultrasonic frequency generator that the captives calmed down.

She often watched them, and other than their blood-filled eyes and haggard appearance, they almost seemed…normal. At least until feeding time. The subjects refused to eat any foods that were prepared for them. They even refused the raw meats. But toss a living creature in the room and they went bananas. Rabbits, sheep, hogs…anything tossed in the room when the frequency generator was turned off was quickly ripped to shreds and consumed. They would eat well past their bodies’ ability to actually hold the food. Some would regurgitate and start again. Others literally ate until their stomachs burst and their bodies would die a slow and painful death.

For that reason, they kept the generators on while the living creatures were introduced to the holding cells. They timed the subjects and not one attacked while the generators were active. But the very moment the generators were turned off, it was gory carnage. She had gotten used to feeding time at the zoo as the military personnel would say, but she still couldn’t handle the crunching of the bones. Skin, hair, hooves, even intestinal contents were all consumed leaving nothing but bloody smears where the animals had once been.

It took her a while to convince the higher ups to install the sea water showers overhead. The smells were simply becoming too much to bear. The brass had an issue with pumping sea water into a floating craft, however, the engineer came to their rescue by designing a floor drain that could be pumped overboard.

The first time they hit the shower button, the subjects didn’t look up to see where the water was coming from. They meandered in their cells as if nothing were happening.

She often wished she could get neuroimaging of the subjects both with and without the generators running to do a comparison. She couldn’t get the request approved. The risks were too high for such small dividends. How could they know the dividends?

A tech entered her workspace and set down an envelope. “It’s from Captain Hollis.”

Vivian sighed and reached for the envelope. The man has a degree in biology or chemistry or…something. Now he thinks he’s a doctor. She ripped open the message and read it. She rubbed at her eyes then read it again to be sure she read it correctly. “Natural immunity?” Her head jerked up and she reached for the door.

“When is Captain Hollis due back?” she asked the retreating form.

The tech turned around and shrugged. “He’s on his way now. Should be landing within an hour.”

A slow smile spread across her features and she did a fist pump in the air. She’d heard rumors of certain civilians having a natural immunity to the virus. But now she’d finally get a chance to study one.

Chapter 7

Hatcher stepped off the chopper and stared at the flurry of activity. He stuck his arm back inside and helped both Jason and Bren from the craft. “Looks like we’re here.”

Jason pulled Bren close and she clung to him as the pair were lead to a gray steel door. “We’ll get you cleaned up, get some food in you, and find you a place to rest,” a man in coveralls and a helmet informed them as he held the door open. “Just follow the ladder below and they’ll get you set up.”

Captain Hollis pushed past the other men disembarking the craft. “Get this bird checked out, refueled, and ready to go at first light. We have a long way to go tomorrow and we’ll be pressed for time.”

He trotted to the open door and grabbed the handrails leading downward. He slid down the ladder and landed hard behind Hatcher. “Get some chow and sleep if you can. We leave at first light and we have a long trip. We’re currently steaming northward up the coast. We’ll be leaving from somewhere around the California-Oregon border. As it stands now, even with extra fuel tanks, we’re going to have to stop over in Boise to refuel.”

“Stop in…I thought there weren’t any safe places left?” Hatcher felt his bullshit-o-meter peg.

“There are a few bases that are holding their own. But for complete safety, offshore is best.” He gave him a crooked grin. “Even if the Zeds could swim out this far, they couldn’t climb up the sides of these ships.”

Hatcher gave him a cautious stare. “But you’re saying there are viable places to refuel along the way?”

Hollis nodded. “A few. They’re heavily armed, and they fought tooth and nail until we got them the ultrasonic generators.”

Hatcher and Jason both gave him questioning looks. “What ultrasonic…whatsit?”

Hollis sighed. “It’s some kind of ultrasonic sound. It calms the Zeds. You can walk right through them and they won’t look at you twice.”

Hatcher opened his mouth to inundate him with questions, but Hollis held a hand up, stopping him. “Look, I don’t know the particulars, I just know that it works. We have them on the research vessel and it keeps them docile. It’s like tranqing a wild animal.”

Hatcher’s eyes grew wide. “Wait just a goddam minute. I thought you said there weren’t any of them out here? Now you’re saying you actually have some on board the ships?”

Hollis groaned. “They’re in bulletproof cells. The generators keep them from wigging out, and yeah…you can’t really do research on them unless you have test subjects.” He placed a hand on Hatcher’s shoulder. “Trust me. Every precaution has been taken. They can’t get out and they’re contained. They’re only on the one ship, and, if need be, we can remove that ship from the fleet entirely.”

“You mean blow them up, don’t you?” Jason asked, his voice cracking.

Hollis shook his head. “That would be the wrong thing to do. Our researchers are all on that vessel. Look, it’s safe, I promise. You’ll see it all first hand when we drop you off there.”

“Drop us…what?” Jason’s voice went up an octave as panic hit.

“You want to stay with the girl, right? Well, the research vessel is where you’ll be staying.” He stiffened and squared his shoulders. “Trust me, will ya? I wouldn’t have brought you all the way here just to risk your lives.”

Jason glanced at Hatcher, who shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

“It will be fine, I promise. In the meantime, the chow hall is right down there. Follow the smells. From there they’ll get you a room and some clean clothes.” He patted Jason on the shoulder. “Relax. You’re safe now.”

He pushed past the trio and marched deeper into the craft. Hatcher looked to the others and noted their fear. “We have to trust him.” He glanced around and shook his head. “They’ve made it this far without incident. I have to believe they know what they’re doing.”

Jason pulled Bren closer and she seemed almost catatonic. “We trusted you, man. You said—”

“I said I would get you to the research center. Since this is the only one left, I think I’ve kept my word.” He dropped his voice and leaned closer to the pair. “Your other option is to head off into the wilderness with me and Captain Jackass there. We’re only going to Ground Zero to find the original bug that caused this shit storm.” He pulled back and gave them both a stern look. “Believe me, you’re safer here with them.”

Jason swallowed hard and gave him a faint nod. “If you say so.”

Hatcher took a deep breath and stood straighter. “I say so.” He turned and headed toward the chow hall. “I just pray I’m not lying.”

Squirrel released the throttle on the Indian and downshifted, listening to the rumble of the engine as it slowed his momentum. He braked softly and practically coasted to a stop.

Staring across the barren rolling hills, he took in the small town and ignored the other men stopping on either side of him. “What’s wrong, boss?”

Squirrel shook his head. “Nothing. Just getting the lay of the land.” He cut off the engine of the bike and pulled a map from his saddle bag. He unfolded it and stared at the small town on paper. “Two of you check the casino. Two more check out the hotels.” He pointed to the man on his left. “You’re with me.”

“Where we going?”

“We’re hitting the residential areas.” He glanced up and noted the trash and debris scattered across the streets and yards of the small town. “Be prepared to bug out at any moment. Ragers could be anywhere…or everywhere. If you run into more than you can handle, bail and head back here.” He turned and faced the men. “Remember, we’re always looking for resources. Food, fuel, booze, ammo…but our primary goal is to find out where that truck came from. Understood?”

“Copy that. We’ll hit the casino.” The man on his right fired up his motorcycle and Squirrel watched as the pair rode off.

“I guess we’ll take the hotels.” The next pair rode off and Squirrel shoved the map back into his bag.

“I meant it. If you see anything—”

“I got yer back, boss.” The man pulled a pair of .45 caliber revolvers and flashed him a wicked grin. “These things will stop a bus. I doubt the ragers would stand a chance.” He shoved them back into his jacket and fired up his engine.

Squirrel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let the fun begin.”

He rode the motorcycle through the residential areas. His head was on a swivel as they passed row after row of adobe or stucco-covered buildings. He tried not to cringe at the smells that would blow across their paths. The sickly-sweet stench of death was thick in certain areas. The heat and stillness of the wind made it that much worse.

He weaved the Indian around anything on the road that might damage it and tried to avoid the bones littered across his path. Apparently the ragers left pieces for the wildlife to fight over, and those pieces had been picked clean and left to bleach in the sun.

He thought he saw a curtain flutter, but noted the window was closed. He waved his arm to get the other man’s attention and pointed to the house. “Somebody inside.”

His partner flashed a brown-toothed smile and goosed his Harley up the road and into the driveway. As he dismounted, he pulled the pistols and marched to the front doors. “I got this.”

He threw a heavy-booted foot against the doorjamb and stepped back as the door flew inward and bounced off an interior wall. He spun to the side and hugged the outer wall of the building as a blast echoed through the small residential area.

Squirrel had just slid off the bike and was turned toward the house when the shotgun sent shot through the open doorway. He ducked behind the Indian and pulled his 30.30 carbine from the side-mounted sheath.

He glanced up after the second blast and watched as his partner rolled around the corner of the doorway and brought both pistols to bear on whoever was inside. Repeated shots echoed through the small valley and Squirrel had just made it to the door when his partner strolled out, a double-barreled shotgun cradled across the crook of his arm.

“It’s all clear now.” He grinned again as he flipped open the revolver and began replacing the spent cartridges.

“Did you check the back rooms?”

The man shook his head. “If there was anybody else in there, I think they would have come a running when I blew this asshole’s brains across the living room.”

Squirrel groaned and darted inside, the 30.30 leading the way. He went room to room and verified that the building was now empty. As he reentered the living room, he shouldered the weapon and kicked a pile of trash out of the way. He entered the tiny kitchen and tossed open the cabinets.

Nothing.

“What the hell was he doing in here with nothing to protect?”

His partner leaned against the wall and shrugged. “Maybe he hid it?”

Squirrel stood and stretched his neck. “Either way, this obviously ain’t where the truck came from.” He turned and motioned toward the door. “Let’s put some distance between us and here before the ragers come to find out what all the noise is about.”

As Squirrel replaced the carbine on the side of his bike he regretted catching that curtain flutter. Besides killing someone who might one day provide a valuable skill in rebuilding the world, they had gained nothing from the stop. No food. No ammo. No information regarding the truck…just a beat up old double-barreled shotgun and a dead body splattered across the living room of an empty house.

He sighed as he straddled the bike and turned the engine over. “This is going to take forever.”

“Want to split up?”

Squirrel glanced at the man. “You suffer from terminal stupidity if you want to take off on your own.”

His partner suddenly stiffened and glared at him. “You looking for a boot in yer ass?”

Squirrel nodded toward the end of the street and the crowd of ragers sniffing the air. Luckily, they hadn’t been spotted yet. “Go ahead then. Take off. But without somebody to watch your back, you’re liable to run into a crowd like that one.” He hooked his chin back in the other direction. “I’m going back that way. Feel free to head in the other direction.”

He hit the starter button on his bike and quickly turned out of the driveway and away from the quickly advancing crowd of screaming infected. His partner glanced toward the crowd and cursed under his breath. He nearly panicked when his Harley didn’t kick right off and nearly flooded the old engine before he finally got it to catch and roar to life. He left a strip of rubber on the cement driveway as he tried to put distance between himself and the running crazies that were quickly closing the gap.

He caught Squirrel about two blocks from the house and pulled alongside him. “That was a dick move, boss.”

Squirrel fought the smile that threatened to cross his features. “You were the one who wanted to go your own way.” He gave the man an exaggerated shrug. “That was your opportunity.”

The brown-toothed man scowled as Squirrel throttled up and pulled away from him. He narrowed his eyes at the larger bike and the man who sat upon it. “Be careful, boss,” he muttered. “This could end up being a real dangerous trip for you.”

Jason paced nervously as Bren went through the examination process. He chewed at his thumbnail and continually glanced at the small round window embedded in the door. It was crusted with just enough grime that he couldn’t really make out anything on the other side.

He practically jumped back when the door pushed open toward him. “Oh, excuse me.” A woman in green scrubs paused and stared. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“How is she doc?” He tiptoed and tried to peer past her shoulder. “She okay?”

The woman stripped the rubber gloves from her hands and tossed them into the waste bin beside the door. “She’s fine. Picture of health, other than being a bit malnourished.”

“There’s not exactly a buffet to sign up for out there, ya know.”

“Understood.” She dropped her mask into a cloth-lined basket and pulled the gown from over her shoulders. “Your friend told me how bad things has gotten out there. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

Jason crossed his arms and held them tightly, nervously swaying as he spoke. “It is what it is.” He glanced toward the door again, then back to the woman. “Is she coming out?”

“She’s getting dressed.” The woman reached out and took him by the arm, leading him from the door. “Tell me about how she got scratched. She said she was running from one of the infected?”

He nodded quickly and tried to peer back toward the door. “Yeah. They was chasing us and nearly caught her.”

“And you saw the creature actually scratch her?”

He turned and gave her a duh stare. “Who the hell else would do it?”

“I’m just trying to clarify the situation here. I’ve sent her blood work to the lab to check for the virus, but it will be a while before we hear back.”

“I can’t say for no virus, but I saw the guy scratch her. He was screaming his fool head off and his eyes were as red as blood.” He cocked his head mockingly at her. “Sounds infected to me.”

She nodded absently, ignoring his behavior. “We’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, we have a room being made up for the two of you.” She paused and studied him. “You two are together, yes?”

“Of course, we are!” He pushed past her and reached for the door just as it opened. Bren stepped out and kept her eyes low. “Baby, are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

She shook her head slightly. “I’m fine. They just took a little blood.”

He pulled her close and held her. “It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

She pulled back slightly and glared at him. “How could you stop them?” She motioned around them. “This is the military. The government. They can do whatever the hell they want, and we can’t stop them.”

He opened his mouth to reply but words escaped him. The female doctor placed a reassuring hand on Bren’s shoulder. “We’re not going to harm you. We just need to run a few tests to determine if you truly are immune, and if you are, we need to know why. We really hope it will help us create either a cure or a vaccine or…something to save humanity.”

Jason’s voice became snarky. “Oh, hear that, baby? You’re gonna save humanity. If you ask me, humanity was screwed long before this ever happened.”

The female doctor stiffened and rather than be baited, she gave the couple a tight-lipped smile and excused herself.

Jason paced the small area nervously. “Where are we supposed to go from here?”

Bren shook her head. “They said we’d get rooms, but I don’t know where they might—”

The door flew open and Dr. Vivian LaRue stepped into the room. “You must be Brenda.” Her hand reached out, but Bren slid behind Jason, her eyes wide.

“And you are?” Jason asked defiantly.

Vivian paused and took in the situation. “I am Doctor LaRue. You can call me Vivian. I’m the lead researcher here at the lab, and I just wanted to take a moment to welcome you both here and see that you get settled.” She sat gracefully in one of the chairs and waited expectantly for the couple to join her.

Jason took a seat and Bren hesitantly followed, her face buried in his back as he waited for the doctor to go on.

“During these tests we’ll be asking a lot of questions. Family history, where you grew up, places you may have travelled to, environmental things that might help explain how you are immune.” She crossed her legs and held her hands in her lap. “If there are any questions you don’t know, don’t worry about it. Just answer to the best of your ability.”

“So that’s it? You just take some blood samples and ask her a ton of questions?” Jason patted her hand reassuringly.

“Oh, no. This is just the preliminary work. These samples were to help us determine if she has the virus in her system. If she does, we need to know which variant she is carrying. She may be immune to this variant, but not immune to others.”

“Wait, you mean there’s more than one type of virus out there?” He suddenly stiffened and he felt Bren reciprocate.

Vivian held a hand up to stop him. “First off, yes. There are many mutated forms we are identifying, and we have a team going out now to find the original strain. We need to see if there is any way we can formulate a defense against the mutated versions using the original strain.” She leaned forward, her voice softening. “Your blood may well hold the key to beating this thing.”

Bren’s face poked out from behind Jason. “Will you have to take all of it?”

Vivian snorted a laugh and shook her head. “Heavens, no. We’ll need samples from time to time, but you won’t even notice, other than the bandage on your arm.” She chuckled again and stood from the chair. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your rooms and you can get settled in. I’ll have some of my people bring you clean clothes and linens.”

Jason slowly came to his feet and pulled Bren up from her chair. “It’s okay. We can go and rest for a bit.” He pulled her to him and gently led her from the room.

Candy put her tray away and walked purposefully toward the armory. She had watch in fifteen minutes and she wanted to relieve Wally early, so he could eat while there were still solid chunks in the stew.

She stepped into the hallway and nearly ran Skeeter over. “Child, what are you doing sneaking around out here? You should go in and eat before it’s all gone.”

Skeeter shook her head slowly. “I’m worried for Hatcher.”

Candy grunted. “If anybody can take care of themselves out there, it’s him. You don’t need to be worrying about—”

“What if the men on the motorcycles come back?” Tears rimmed her eyes and she sniffed back those that threatened to fall.

“What men on motorcycles?” Candy paused and bent low to hear the girl.

“They shot at us when we were going to Colorado. If the helicopter hadn’t shown when they did, they probably would have shot us all.”

Candy stiffened and pulled her radio. “Hank, you near the galley?”

“Headed that way now. What’s up?”

“Get your butt down here now.” Candy turned the radio down and faced Skeeter again. “Hatcher never said nothing about no bikers with guns out there.”

Skeeter shrugged. “The helicopter showed up and they turned tail and ran.”

“That’s the bandits he mentioned.” She ground her teeth together and wanted to punch something. “He didn’t say they took shots at y’all.”

Skeeter nodded then popped her head up when she heard Henry coming down the hall. “What’s up?”

“Hatcher wanted us to keep an eye on things because of some bandits they intercepted out there. I found out from her that they was a motorcycle gang and they was shooting at them. If the chopper hadn’t shown up, they most likely would have killed our people.”

“Shit.” Henry rubbed at his wide chin. “Should we double the guards on sentry?”

Candy sighed as her mind raced. “Not yet. We still probably have a bit before they show up.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s about sundown. They ain’t stupid enough to be out at night with the Zulus out.”

Henry snorted. “They was stupid enough to go after Hatcher.”

She shook her head. “They had no idea of who he was, and even if they did, it sounds like they probably have the numbers. No, if they was stupid they wouldn’t have survived this long.”

“So we start doubling the sentries in the morning?”

She nodded. “Pass the word. Double shifts for all sentries. No daytime scavenger runs. Not until we know what’s going on with this group.”

“You reckon they saw the chopper land here?”

She shrugged. “There’s no telling. I’m sure every Zulu in the county saw it. All they’ll have to do is look for the mob of them beating on the gates. They’ll know somebody is inside.”

“Got it.” Henry marched off to spread the word and Candy turned back to Skeeter.

“You did good by telling me, sweetie. But don’t you worry none about Hatcher. He’s with them military guys and they’ll protect him. They need him.”

Skeeter nodded as Candy walked off toward the armory. “Only until they got what they came for…”

Chapter 8

“Up and at ’em, Ranger.” Hatcher spun in his cot and stared up at Hollis. “We move out in thirty. There’s some clean BDUs, for you if you’d like something a bit more rugged for the road.” Hollis stood and eyed the man. “Chow hall’s open if you want to grab a bite before we take off. You might want to grab something for the road, too. We got a long trip.”

Hatcher swung his legs off the cot and reached for the clean clothes. They were desert tan BDUs, and even a fresh pair of boots. He lifted his from the deck and hadn’t realized the sad shape they wear in until he held the new pair. He nodded to himself as he dressed, then followed the smells to the chow hall. He made a quick plate, making sure to wrap a few of the cinnamon buns into a bag and grabbing a couple of bottles of water.

He wolfed down the meal of powdered eggs and grits, swiped a banana from the stack of fruit, and washed it all down with something he suspected was their version of orange juice. He fought the feeling of nausea that struck when he trotted out to the flight deck.

“Perfect timing, Ranger.” Hollis finished packing his gear then pulled the door open.

“Please don’t call me that. I’m not a park ranger anymore.”

Hollis stood and stared down at the shorter man. “What would you like to be called?”

“Just Hatcher is fine.” He stepped up and into the cabin.

Hollis smiled to himself. “Just Hatcher it is then.” He turned and made a motion with his hand and his men boarded the craft.

As each donned their headphones, Hollis keyed the coms. “I know it’s a long trip, but let’s keep our heads on a swivel. There could be uninfected nutjobs out there who want to take a pot shot at us as we fly over God’s country.”

The bird spun up and Hatcher leaned back into the seat as best he could. He propped his head against the bulkhead and glanced out the window as the HH-60W lifted from the deck. He could feel the pull as the craft lifted up, then shifted as it launched forward.

“You look a little green, Hatcher.”

He glanced to Hollis and gave him a shrug. “I don’t think those powdered eggs agreed with me.”

Hollis reached into his bag and pulled out a roll of antacids. “You’ll learn to love these things if you stay with us for any length of time.” He passed the roll to Hatcher, then asked, “You were there, weren’t you?”

Hatcher popped a couple of the mint-flavored tablets, then turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“When it all went down. You were at the park, weren’t you?”

Hatcher nodded, his mind going back to the night Shelly disappeared and when Mitch was bit. He felt his stomach sour again at the thought of putting his friend down.

“So, you’ve faced these things before. We don’t need to go over precautions with you.”

Hatcher shook his head. “I’ve seen enough of them up close and personal that I think I can handle myself just fine.”

“I’ll go over insertion details with you when we touch down for fuel.”

Hatcher nodded absently and turned to stare out the window again, hoping there would be something of interest out there that could pull his thoughts from friends lost.

Squirrel felt the sun warm his face and he opened his eyes. They had barricaded themselves in the top floors of the local Hyatt Regency. He had pulled the bed over by the sliding glass doors so that the early morning sun might wake him. He rolled over and stretched. As he sat up he noted the red dirt in the sheets from his clothes and wished they actually had water pressure. A shower would be heaven sent.

He slid off the mattress and pulled his jacket on. He stood in the bathroom and stared at his features in the darkened room. He could just make out the bed head he suffered from. He reached for the toilet and lifted the top from the tank. Using both hands, he scooped up the cool water and scrubbed his face with it. He then ran his hands through the shoulder-length mop and did his best to comb it back with his fingers. Another scoop of water and his hair was properly slicked back.

The hand towel wiped the excess from his face and he dropped it on the floor as he made his way out of the room and down the stairs to the main lobby.

He rifled through the kitchen and found a gallon-size tin can of stewed tomatoes and another gallon can of cling peaches. He wished for some form of instant coffee, but there was nothing. The little packets of coffee in his room had already been pilfered along with the sugar and the creamers.

He found a hand-operated can opener and popped the top on the peaches. He carried it back out to the lobby and used his dagger to stab the fruit from the can. He sat atop the check-in desk and ate while he waited for the rest of his men to rouse.

He felt they had been lucky to find the place. Whoever had broken in before was smart enough not to knock out the glass. No protection if you leave a gaping hole in the wall. Whoever it was had jimmied the locks and helped themselves. There were towels and linens scattered across the floor, and food stuff, long since stolen and spilled, had dried into unrecognizable clumps.

When he had eaten his fill, he set the can down on the counter and walked to the rear of the main floor. He glanced out at what was left of the pool. Behind the wrought iron fence, the pool was half-filled with thick, smelly brown water. He squinted in the early morning sun and thought he could just make out a swollen body floating in the muck.

Trash littered the concrete around the pool and things that had once been brightly colored sat floating in the brown water, the sun having faded most of the color from them. Squirrel knew better than to step out there. The only thing worse than the smell of death would be death stewing in the New Mexico sun for weeks or longer.

He heard somebody stomping down the stairs and turned to see his brown-toothed partner pull up short when he saw him standing at the rear doors. “Did you sleep?”

Squirrel nodded. “There’s some canned peaches at the check-in desk.” He glanced at his watch, then craned his neck to look for the sun. “We have a lot of ground to cover today. We need to get an early start.”

“What about the others?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and back up the stairs.

“They have their mission. Let them sleep.”

He listened to the man’s heavy steps as he walked to the counter. Then, to his dismay, he heard hearty slurps as he lifted the tin to his mouth and sucked the peaches from the can.

His hand absently caressed the Glock 40 tucked under his jacket. The 10mm handgun was capable of putting very large holes into human flesh. He contemplated being able to explain the brown-toothed guy’s death to Simon. Of course, if he killed him here, he’d most likely have to kill the others as well. Surely the sound of the gunshot would stir them.

He decided if he was to go down that road, he’d wait until he and the man known only as Slug were alone.

He hated the nicknames Simon had assigned each of them. He had a knack to choose words starting with ‘S’. Slug, Squirrel, Sasquatch, Shithead…he wasn’t the most creative when it came to names. But for the most part, they seemed somewhat appropriate. His partner was a slug. Slow, lazy, left a trail of slime everywhere he went. He actually chuckled to himself when he realized the name was the most accurate of them all.

Of course, Squirrel could have other meanings besides someone fast, crafty, and careful. Being ‘squirrely’ meant that one couldn’t be trusted. If that was his intention when naming him, he hit the nail directly on the head.

In a previous life, Squirrel had been an undercover narcotics officer. He volunteered for this job and shortly after earning his ‘colors,’ the world came to a screaming and bloody end. Now there was nobody to turn evidence over to. Nobody to make Simon answer for the crimes that Squirrel had witnessed. Nobody to care if the outlaw bikers continued to be outlaws.

In this new world, people like Simon quickly took advantage of the situation and established themselves as war chiefs. They fiercely defended their territories and terrorized anybody who crossed their path. More than once Squirrel found himself committing acts he never would have thought possible. He had to keep telling himself he wasn’t a cop anymore. He was just a person trying his best to make it in a world that was turned upside down.

It didn’t help him to sleep at night.

“You ready?”

He turned and saw the brown-toothed Slug staring at him, wiping heavy syrup from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He nodded and stepped away from the window. “Let’s finish this.”

“I think it’s safe to say that truck didn’t come from here. I ain’t seen no large groups of people or Army surplus. Whoever they were, they came from somewhere else.”

Squirrel nodded as he straddled the Indian. “You’re probably right, but we still need to look for supplies. We got a lot of people that need to eat.”

“That ain’t my problem, boss. Let ’em find their own grub.” He started the old Harley and revved the engine a few times.

“It is your problem because Simon says it is.” Squirrel kicked off the Indian and slipped his sunglasses on. “Unless you’re ready to challenge Simon, I suggest you do what he orders.”

Slug glared at the man as he pulled away from the hotel. “This trip is getting more dangerous for you boss-man. Best be careful.”

He revved the engine and let the clutch out slowly, pulling the Harley out behind the Indian.

“Whatever you do, do not let Bren see this.” Jason pointed shakily at the reinforced acrylic that separated the researchers from the infected. “I’m serious. She’ll lose her shit right here, and you’ll have to send people out to search for her as she swims back to shore.”

“Rest assured, Jason, she’ll never see this.” Dr. LaRue stepped around him and wrote a few notes on her clipboard. “But in this state, they really are harmless.”

“In this state? Exactly what state are we in? We’re on a friggin boat in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think California can lay claim to us.”

Vivian chuckled at what she thought was his attempt at humor. It took her a moment longer to realize he was serious. “In this state, meaning in their current state of mind. Their behavior. Their lack of aggression. Not where they are located.”

Jason shrugged. “Okay. And because these aren’t being aggressive they’re what? Your pets?”

“These creatures are research material. That is all.”

“And just what do you feed your test bunnies, Doc? If some squid on the boat doesn’t shine his shoes just right, you toss him in there for an early brunch?”

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at the man. “Right now, the most aggressive creature on this boat is you.” She stepped toward him and pointed a finger in his face. “This is a RESEARCH vessel. You knew that when you came aboard. In order to research the virus and its effects on humans, we have to have infected people here. Until the virus started mutating, we were this close to a cure. We could have turned it all around in a matter of weeks. But that went out the window. Now you and your girlfriend arrive and tell us that she is immune.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Jason, causing him to take a step back. “Which means we need her, not you.”

Jason swallowed hard and stared at the woman staring him down.

“Perhaps you might take a different tone when speaking to us.”

Jason nodded nervously and stepped away from her. “I was just saying…you know…that she’d totally wig out if she saw…”

“I understand what you were trying to say, Mr. Anderson.” Vivian jotted a few more notes, then gave a subtle nod to the tech assisting her. “We’ve analyzed Ms. Wilkes’ blood. There are definitely antibodies in it.”

She turned to face Jason again and pulled her glasses from her thin nose. “She also carries the virus.” She gave him a moment to process what she said. “She’s a carrier, Mr. Anderson.”

Jason’s jaw quivered as his eyes shot from person to person in the room. “Wait…what does that mean?”

“It means that if your girlfriend were to scratch you or bite you hard enough to break the skin, you could become infected, too.”

His eyes widened even more and he stepped back against the counter. “W-what about kissing…and stuff?”

Vivian shook her head. “Your body creates its own defense against oral viruses. That’s why you can’t get HIV from drinking after somebody. Same thing here.” She stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t be certain about sexual transmission though.”

Jason groaned and felt his legs give way beneath him. “We could test your blood as well.”

His head nodded, but his eyes were locked in a thousand-yard stare.

“I doubt you’ve been exposed. The transition rate for infection is…minutes.” She shrugged and offered him a weak smile. “But I suppose there is that slight chance you are immune as well.” She shot him a sarcastic smile that he totally missed.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” He held his arm out to her and she nodded to the tech who helped him to a chair, then prepared to draw blood.

“As soon as it’s processed, we’ll let you know the results.” Vivian opened to the door and led him back out through the research stations. “In the meantime, you might want to minimize your…physical contact with Ms. Wilkes.”

Jason nodded nervously as he stumbled out of the laboratory and toward the room he shared with Bren.

He shut the door behind him and practically collapsed onto his bed. Bren came to his side and he cringed when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes searched him as he forced himself to calm down.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and reached for her. “I just…I really don’t like this place, Bren.” He pulled her close and she felt him trembling. “It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

She snuggled in close and pulled his arm across her to hold her. “I don’t like it, either.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

Jason forced himself to remain calm. They’d been together numerous times since she was scratched. Dr. LaRue’s words echoed in his mind, “Just like HIV.” He sighed and wrapped his arm tighter around her. “Yes, we should have. This place may not seem like the nicest, but if you really think about it, we’re safer than we’ve ever been. There’s three square meals a day and clean beds to sleep in.” He gave her a soft smile. “Besides, you’re gonna save the human race.”

Vicky Sue stepped out onto the roof and stared at the landscape. She carried the hot coffee to Henry Willis who stood sentry on the roof with Dennis Wallace. “I bet you’re tuckered out.”

He gladly accepted the coffee and pulled his coat off. “Nah. Ain’t much a nothin’ right now.” He sipped the coffee and gave her a grateful smile. “I don’t guess you heard from Hatch?”

She shook her head and glanced toward Wally. “He still swearing off the bean?”

Henry chuckled. “If Candy keeps us pulling doubles, he’s liable to change his mind.”

Vicky walked closer to the edge and glanced down at the few bodies roasting in the sun. “They from last night?”

Henry nodded. “Snuck up on us and we caught them before they could start screeching. Wally dropped them with that silenced .22 of his.” He shook his head. “Man, that thing is whisper quiet.”

“Too bad he couldn’t make a few more for the bigger rifles.”

Henry shrugged. “They wouldn’t work as well. The bigger the caliber, the tougher it is to hush ’em up. But that little Ruger of his? That thing is tight!”

Vicky patted his shoulder. “Maybe we can scrounge up another one for you when we send people out to gather supplies.”

Henry shrugged again. “Pretty sure we’ve picked it all clean.” He sighed heavily and pointed out toward the northeast. “We gonna have to send trucks out and get outside our comfort zone.”

Vicky shuddered and pulled her coat tighter. “Gives me the chills just thinking about it.”

“I know, but there just ain’t much left out there that we can reach on foot.” He tugged gently at her shoulder and walked past Wally to the other side of the flat roof. “See that out there? That green sign?”

Vicky squinted and could barely make out what he was pointing at. “I think so.”

He handed her his binoculars and she focused them on the sign. “Oh my…”

“I’ve been watching it for a couple of weeks now. Nobody has gone near it. At least, not while we’re on watch.” He took the field glasses back and pulled her to the side. “And that worries me, too.”

“Why would it worry you? An untouched grocery store? They could have all kinds of canned food, diapers, formula…toilet paper!”

He nodded. “Yeah, they could. The glass front is all intact, no Zulus running around the place, no vehicles…but think about that.” He paused and gave her a chance to connect the dots. “That could also mean that we’re the only uninfected in town.”

The words struck like a blow and her hand automatically went to her mouth as she stifled a gasp. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Henry nodded slowly. “As much as it would help us out, the idea that nobody else in town has survived this?”

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I don’t even want to think about that.” She turned and stared at the fuzzy green sign across town. “Have you mentioned it to Candy? Our supplies are getting dangerously low.”

He nodded. “I did, but she said we have a possible bigger threat coming our way. The bikers that Hatch ran into. She thinks they could be working their way here.”

“All the more reason to hit that place now.” She had to fight to keep her voice low. “If they do show up, and if they find it first? They’d pick it clean and we’d be left…”

Henry nodded. “Stuck with our dicks in our hands.”

Vicky gave him a confused smile. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So maybe you can convince her.” He pulled her back toward the door. “If we put a skeleton crew on watch, send every abled body, we could strip that place and have everything we need loaded in no time. Use a couple of our best shooters to keep an eye on those working…we could do this.”

Vicky nodded, her mind seeing the activity in her head. She turned and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll convince her that this needs to happen.”

Henry broke into a toothy grin. “If anybody can do it, I know it’s you.”

He watched her walk away and not for the first time since Hatcher left, wished the man was still here. He would listen to reason.

Chapter 9

Hatcher stepped from the chopper and watched as the soldiers worked in a flurry of activity. A truck met the craft just as the wheels set down and soldiers took a defensive perimeter while techs worked at refueling the bird.

He tried to stay behind their defensive wall, but his eyes took in the carnage that was once a military base. Makeshift blockades and chain link fences were erected around a portion of the buildings. Bodies could be seen hanging from razor wire and buzzards circled the dead.

He approached Hollis, who was talking over a radio. The man had just returned the mic when he turned and eyed Hatcher. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“The damage that unarmed infected can wreak against those who are well-trained and well-armed.”

Hatcher nodded. “Force in numbers.”

“Exactly.” Hollis glanced at his watch and tapped it. “We’ve only got a few minutes. If you need to hit the latrine…”

Hatcher shook his head. “I’m good. But I’m curious.”

“About?”

He turned and pointed to the makeshift blockades. “Where’s the patrols?”

Hollis grinned and turned Hatcher to look at the two buildings on either side. “Instead of being on the ground and risking their troops, they stack them in those windows. They can snipe anything that gets close without fear of being bit.”

Hatcher had to squint in the sunlight, but he could just make out shadows and barrels in the windows. “So, there are no roving patrols?”

Hollis shook his head. “They can see out hundreds of yards from their positions. And anything on the ground might actually attract the infected.” He pointed to the other blocked areas. “They put shooters in the buildings. The highest positions cover up to 500 yards out. Each floor covers their own areas. Although the infected might seem pretty stupid, they quickly figure out where they can and can’t go without getting themselves dead.”

Hatcher turned and gave him a curious look. “They know to steer clear because of the fear of death?”

Hollis nodded. “It appears so.”

Hatcher turned back to the secure areas and shook his head. “They’ve gotten smarter.”

“How’s that? Even a rabid dog knows to avoid places that will get it shot.”

“They didn’t use to be so cautious. I watched them storm armed troops and…” his mind flashed back to the fight Mitch Richardson had with the crazy naked lady. She showed no fear, even after Mitch had sliced and diced her. “This just seems out of sorts for what I experienced.”

“Even old dogs can be taught new tricks.” Hollis turned his attention back to the techs who were pulling their equipment back. “We good?”

He got a thumb’s up from the chief and he keyed his coms. “Load ’em up boys. We’re on the move.”

Hatcher hesitated before taking his seat back on the chopper. His eyes told him that Hollis was right, but his mind was having trouble accepting it. He remembered that first night almost too vividly.

He had seen somewhat normal people do things he still had trouble accepting. The thought that those same people could now understand basic concepts like ‘safe place’ or ‘death’ escaped him.

He reluctantly took his seat and strapped in, but his mind was still in Yellowstone. Blood and gore splattered across every surface as the virus tore through the crowds. He watched people go from screaming in fear and pain to screaming before they attacked their best friend, their spouse, their own kids…

He shook his head and forced himself back to the here and now. Hollis was waving a hand to get his attention. He pointed to the headphones and Hatcher nodded, pulling them back on and adjusting the mouthpiece.

“I was supposed to brief you when we stopped for fuel.” He gave him an innocent smile. “Sorry I got sidetracked.”

Hatcher nodded. “It’s okay. We can go over it the next time we stop.”

Hollis shook his head. “The next stop is the park. We’re hitting the ground running so…” He pulled the map out and handed it to Hatcher. “We’ll go over it now. You need to be ready to go the moment we touch terra firma.”

Squirrel slowed the bike and cast a quick glance around the area before pulling into the mini-mart. He shut off the engine and strained his ears to listen for sounds of approaching infected or screams that might indicate they had been spotted. The roar of Slug’s Harley, however, essentially covered any sounds he might have detected.

Once the Harley was shut down, Squirrel stepped away from the two machines and cupped his hands to his ears. He felt it was safe to continue and took a tentative step toward the front of the store.

“We really gonna do this? Simon has scroungers that do this shit all the time.”

Squirrel stiffened. “Wouldn’t you like to get your hands on any beer that wasn’t pilfered before the scroungers scoop it up?” He turned and gave the man a wicked smile. “I would think you’d like the opportunity to pick your favorite brand and decide for yourself how much was enough.”

Slug’s eyes widened, and he quickly jumped from the bike. “Yeah. That sounds like a hell of an idea.” He pushed past Squirrel and marched toward the mini-mart. “I just hope there’s still some left.”

Squirrel sighed and fell into step behind him.

The front doors had been broken and money was scattered across the floor of the darkened store. Trash was scattered everywhere and most of the food stuff was missing. He could hear Slug slamming things in the back of the store and cursing under his breath.

Squirrel moved to the rear of the counter and tried a door. It was locked. A quick check with his shoulder and it gave way. He pulled his lighter and flicked it on. Cleaning supplies.

He turned and made his way to the other side of the store and noted the door to the dry goods storage was kicked open. A quick search indicated the place had been picked clean.

“Not even a stray bottle in the walk-in.” Slug slapped at the top of a shelf and stormed passed him.

“There are other places we can check.”

“And they’ll be picked clean, too.” Slug paused at his bike and stared off into the distance. He blinked twice and squinted against his sunglasses. Slowly, he pulled them off and Squirrel noted his head turning slightly to the side.

“What’s up?”

“Man, I could have sworn I saw flashes on that hill. Like somebody was using a mirror to signal us.”

Squirrel followed his pointing hand and saw nothing.

“A reflection off trash?”

Slug’s head shook slightly. “No way, man. This was like…”

A scream behind them sent both men into defensive mode. Pistols were pulled and both men squatted low, scanning the area behind them. Slug spotted the ragers running toward them, the lead attacker practically running on all fours.

“Fuck, man, they’re closing fast.” Slug ran to his Harley and flipped the kickstand up while simultaneously hitting the starter button. The old Harley coughed, farted, and belched, but refused to turn over.

Squirrel hopped onto the Indian and his engine roared to life with the first turn.

“Don’t you leave me, man!” Slug mashed the starter button harder, his jaw clenched so tight that his molars should have cracked.

“Get on! Now, dammit!” Squirrel revved his engine, but Slug continued to try starting his own ride. He continuously turned his head over his shoulder gauging how close the ragers were.

“Don’t be stupid, Slug! Get on the fuckin’ bike!” Squirrel realized the man was too stupid to realize they could come back for the bike and kicked his Indian into gear.

He couldn’t hear Slug’s screaming as he revved the engine and spun the bike around, leaving a black semi-circle on the pavement as he spun around the charged head first into the oncoming ragers. He goosed the throttle and tried to lift the heavy cruiser into a wheelie, but it was simply too heavy. Instead, he pulled his pistol and began firing into the small crowd, hoping they had the sense to scatter.

He kicked down on the rear brake and spun the ass end of the bike around, knocking the lead attacker down and nearly laying the huge motorcycle on its side. He goosed the throttle again and shot off to the left of the crowd. He hugged the tank when he saw a rager launch herself toward him and he felt something tear at his leather jacket as she sailed over him.

He barely caught a glimpse of Slug tearing away from the parking lot, leaving him to deal with the ragers on his own. He knew the man was a coward, but he didn’t think he’d bail on him in a situation like this.

He goosed the bike and turned toward the same street that Slug had left on. He opened her up and went through his gears as fast as the bike could rev. He found himself taking the curves too quickly, but he was determined to catch up to Slug.

The black and white Harley came into view and Squirrel let off the gas. He was still catching up to the coward, but he wanted to do it safely. He considered using his pistol and bringing the bastard to a fateful finish, but decided to humiliate him a bit first. As he came alongside Slug, he shot his foot out and kicked him off balance. The Harley waggled on the road while Slug tried to regain control, but quickly flipped to its side, sending its rider sprawling.

Squirrel shut down the Indian and stepped toward the slow-moving Slug as he tried to recover from what should have been a bad case of road rash. He pushed himself over and found Squirrel standing over him, his pistol pointed directly at his face.

“What the fuck, man?” Slug squinted against the sun as he stared up at the larger man.

“I knew you were a coward, but I never would have thought you’d haul ass on me in a situation like that.” He leaned closer and used his free hand to protect his eyes from the blowback he knew would come from such a close shot.

“Hold on, man! I thought you baled on me. You peeled out and just fuckin’ left me!”

Squirrel’s face grimaced as he knelt over the man. “Bullshit. You saw me turn and ride into the ragers. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of me. And then you hauled ass in the opposite direction.”

Slug’s head shook violently side to side. “No way, man. I never saw you go into the crowd! I swear to god!” He swallowed hard and held a hand up, trying in vain to somehow block the bullet that would smear his brain matter across the pavement. “I was just trying to save my own skin!”

Squirrel clenched his teeth and glared at the coward sprawled on the ground. “No shit.”

He came to his feet and holstered the weapon. “You ever pull a fuckin’ stunt like that on me again…I’ll finish this.”

Slug nodded rapidly and tried to crab walk away from him. He got to his feet slowly and stared at his bike. “Fuck me, man. You trashed my ride.”

“It was a piece of shit before you wrecked it.” Squirrel straddled his Indian and kicked it off. “You best try to get her started. That crowd of ragers are just over that hill.”

Slug lifted the wrecked Harley and began checking it. He closed his eyes and prayed as he tried to start it.

Squirrel didn’t wait to see if it would run again. He kicked the bike into gear and pulled away, leaving Slug to his own devices.

Jason chewed nervously at his thumbnail while Vivian LaRue scanned the lab report. “As we suspected, you’re not infected.” She closed the folder and stared at him. “Neither are you immune.”

“Meaning?”

She shrugged. “You’ve been lucky as heck that you haven’t contracted the virus from your girlfriend.” She stood and dropped the lab report on her desk.

“Wait, so you mean…she could give it to me?”

Vivian turned and stared at him as though he were daft. “Of course. I remember telling you that she’s a carrier. We’ll have to use the same precautions in dealing with her as we would with any of the infected that had you so worried.”

Jason came to his feet. “Now hold on just a goddam second. Surely you don’t mean to keep her locked up like those other people?” He was practically yelling as he glared at her.

“Of course not. She’s completely lucid. And from what we can tell, she’s not likely to become asymptomatic.”

Jason gave her a confused stare. “What do you mean?”

Vivian sighed and set down her work in order to give him her full attention. “Mr. Anderson, it’s really quite simple. As long as she continues to behave like a normal person, she shall be treated as a normal person. However, we are aware she carries the virus in her system, so it is possible, however improbable, she could become symptomatic. In that case, she will be treated as any other infected person.”

Jason’s eyes darted side to side as he took in her words. “So, if she starts to act like the crazies, then she’ll be caged like one?”

Vivian sighed again. “Yes, that is a very simplistic way of putting it, but you are correct.”

“That ain’t right, doc. You know she isn’t infected.”

“Ah, but she is. She just isn’t reacting the same way you or I would if we were to become infected.” She took a deep breath and prepared for a tirade.

Jason slowly nodded. “So, as long as she keeps acting normal, she’s good, right?”

“Precisely!” She shot him a beaming smile. “I’m so glad you understand.”

Jason nodded slowly as he processed everything. Finally, he turned and gave her a solemn look. “What do you think the odds are she’ll stay normal?”

Vivian wasn’t expecting that question. “Honestly, Mr. Anderson, I think her odds are quite good. I know I explained to you about the different versions of the virus. How it mutated?” He nodded. “If we limit her interactions with others, keep her contained within the ship and ensure she doesn’t come into contact with people who are out and about, then we can safely assume she won’t be exposed to other versions of the virus. Then it’s safe to assume that her chances of becoming symptomatic are also limited.”

“Keep her locked up?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. Just limit her exposure to others.” She pointed to the people coming and going outside her office. “Some of the people who work on this ship go to shore from time to time. With the different versions of the mutated virus out there, there is a slight possibility one of them could bring it back here. I’m not saying that her immune system wouldn’t also fight it off, or even allow her to be a carrier of the mutated virus, but there’s always the possibility that a different form would actually infect her and she could…turn.”

“How would they bring it back if they aren’t bitten?” He could feel his insides twisting at the possibility they could be trapped on a ship with infected people running about.

“The virus was originally made airborne. Those who were infected by the airborne version spread it by scratches or bites.” She shrugged. “There’s always the possibility that another mutated form might become viable under those same conditions.”

“So it could go airborne again?” He could feel his mouth go dry as he spoke.

She nodded slowly. “It’s a possibility.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s not probable, but it is possible.”

He felt his legs go out from under him. “So then, it wouldn’t just be her…but all of us.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Exactly.”

Candy shook her head, her body stiff. “I don’t like it. Not one bit.” Her eyes met the two men confronting her. “It’s too risky.”

Wally groaned and turned away, but Henry doubled down. “Candy, if we don’t do something, and quick, there won’t be anybody left standing to defend us from the nomads that Hatch ran into.”

“That’s assuming they even come this way,” Wally interjected. “We can’t know what their intentions are. Hell, they could be planted out there and just attacking anybody who traveled that certain road.”

“Yeah, like the old highwaymen,” Henry added.

Candy groaned. She knew they were right. Their supplies were running dangerously low and there were whole families in their little group that depended on the supplies gathered locally.

She stepped away and stared across the neighborhoods separating them from the grocery store. “Do you really think it’s intact?”

Henry nodded. “I’ve been watching it for over a week now. Nobody comes or goes. The Zulus aren’t anywhere near it, and the front is all intact.” He placed a hand on her shoulder to drive home their desperation. “If we don’t do something soon, Hatch is going to come home to find a bunch of corpses.”

She groaned and tossed her hands in the air. “Dammit, I hate to say it, but you’re probably right.” She paced in a tight circle and argued with herself. When she finally stopped, she spun and faced the two men. “How quickly can you do this?”

“Let us use the two big trucks and give us everybody who can carry a weapon.” Henry was fighting the smile that tried to form as he spoke. “We put our best shooters on lookout and anybody who’s capable of snatching and grabbing loads the trucks with anything viable. Canned goods, bagged goods, paper stuff…”

“Toilet paper, tampons, even candy!” Wally added. “You know we need everything.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. Make it happen. Henry, you’re in charge of this shit storm.” She tapped the man’s chest as she spoke. “If this goes to hell…”

“It won’t. We won’t let it.” He failed at keeping the smile from his face. “We’ll be in and out in a matter of minutes.”

“I hope I don’t regret this.” She handed him back the binoculars and headed to the roof access.

Chapter 10

Hatcher stared at the passing land through the window the entire way to the park. Somehow feeling he could automatically recognize the park lands when they approached, he was surprised when the craft began its descent.

Captain Hollis came over the coms and snapped him from his confusion. “Pilots claim there are numerous heat signatures in the LZ, but they appear too small to be humanoid.” He shot Hatcher a sly grin. “Considering the thickness of the canopy in spots, I’m sure you’d agree we could still have unwelcomed company at any moment.”

“Agreed.” Hatcher turned back to the window and saw dust and debris kicking up as the craft settled. When the doors opened, he hit the ground and brought the barrel of the M4 carbine to his eye. He dropped low and covered the rear of the craft while the others disembarked and took up defensive positions.

He never heard Hollis slap the side of the craft, but he noticed when the rotors increased speed and the gust of wind before it lifted off again.

Once the chopper was clear, Hatcher turned slowly and scanned the area. He recognized the terrain almost immediately and instantly had his bearings. Hollis approached as the defensive perimeter broke up and the men began gathering gear, one man covering each compass point as the others prepared for the march.

“The Visitor’s Center is just beyond that stand of trees.”

Hollis nodded. “Yeah, Colonel Vickers gave us a detailed-”

“Vickers?” Daniel stiffened and glared at the man. “He’s still alive?”

Hollis turned slowly and faced him. “You know the colonel?”

Daniel spat and paced in a circle. “If I’d known Vickers had anything to do with this I’d have told you all to go pound sand.” His teeth were clenched tight and his face was turning a nice shade of red.

Hollis stood and held his hands up, attempting to placate the ex-ranger. “Easy, buddy. Vickers just gave us what few details he had on this place.”

Hatcher spun on him. “But you work with him, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Sort of. I work more for the lab guys, but Vickers is in my chain of command.”

“Fucking great.” Hatcher pointed toward the center. “You do realize he’s the reason this shit storm went global, don’t you?”

Hollis’ face screwed up with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, so the great colonel didn’t tell you, did he?” Hatcher snorted with derision. “Why the hell should he. He only caused the greatest holocaust in the history of mankind.”

“Come again? You’re not making any sense.”

“Vickers is the one that dropped the damned bomb! The same bomb that sent the virus into the atmosphere.” He stared at the man, waiting for the light to come on. “Yes, this was ground zero for the virus, but there were only a few handfuls of people infected. Maybe a couple hundred at most.”

“I’m still not following you…”

Hatcher groaned and dropped to a squat, pressing against his temples to try to contain his anger. “Look, the virus erupted here and people were infected. But instead of dealing with it in another way, Vickers decided to drop a damned bomb on the source. It was a big enough bomb to blow the top of the damned mountain off and sent who knows how many tons of that virus into the upper atmosphere. If he’d played by the rules, this could have been contained and the infected rate would be a tiny percentage of the population. Now it’s…what…85…90 percent of the entire human population is either dead or infected, right?”

“We can’t really get a good estimate, but…that’s probably close.” Hollis exhaled hard as he tried to take in everything Hatcher told him.

“It was Vickers who decided to override the Pentagon and drop a damned mini-nuke out here.” He worked up a mouthful of dust-filled spit and spat it on the ground. “I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“Wait…you…I mean, he—”

“It’s a long fucking story, cap. You sure you want to hear it all?”

Hollis reached a hand out to help Hatcher to his feet. “Every word, if you don’t mind. We’ve got a pretty good hike ahead of us.”

Hatcher took his hand and got to his feet. “They bailed so fast, there should be a couple of five-tons and a handful of Humvees on the other side of the center. That is, if they’ll still start after sitting out here for months.”

Hollis keyed his coms. “Pack out to the Visitors Center. Set up a forward command post and recon the area for old military vehicles. This job might have just gotten easier.” He turned back to Hatcher. “Now, you were saying?”

Bren sat quietly while they ran her blood through a machine. She sipped at a flat soda and ignored the cookies they set out for her.

“Is this really necessary?” Jason asked.

Dr. LaRue nodded. “We’re just filtering her blood and then pumping it back into her.”

“You’re filtering out the virus?” Bren asked as she set the soda down.

“No, we’re filtering for specific types of cells so we can try to culture them with monoclonal antibody cells.” She turned and gave her a soft smile. Noting the look of confusion, she took a deep breath and tried to explain. “In order for a vaccine to work, we have to first strip the antigens from the virus and duplicate them, preferably in a weakened or dead form. Vaccines containing these antigens are then introduced into the body, stimulating the immune system response by instructing specific cells to produce antibodies. Then those antibodies are produced to fight the weakened or dead viruses in the vaccine. The immune system gets ready to destroy the real, much stronger viruses in the future. When new antigens enter the body, white blood cells gobble them up and process the information contained in the antigens so that an immune system response can be mobilized.”

Bren looked to Jason who shrugged. “They’re taking stuff out of your blood to try and make a cure.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She stared at the machine as it continued to cycle. “Are you going to take all of my blood?”

Dr. LaRue shook her head. “No, dear. We’re just running some of it through the filters and then pumping it back into you.” She patted her arm gently. “You won’t miss what we take out, I promise.”

The machine gave a tone and Dr. LaRue turned it off. She disconnected the IV tubes and taped a cotton ball to Bren’s arm. “There ya go. We’re all done.”

“For now.” Jason added.

“Right. For now.” She helped Bren up from the chair and handed her the soda and cookies. “You should have at least a few days before we’ll need you again.”

Bren nodded a thanks and Jason escorted her back to their room. When the door was safely shut, he sat her down and lowered his voice to a whisper. “How do you really feel?”

“I think the soda is flat. It’s making me nauseous.” She dropped the cookies into the trash. “Too much sugar.”

“I mean, do you feel like you?”

She turned surprised eyes to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He fell into the chair across from her and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Bren. I just…I don’t trust them.”

“But you said we were safer here than out there.” Her voice had an edge of concern and Jason quickly took her hand.

“We are. I mean, just look around. We’re in the middle of the ocean and we have a roof over our heads, people with guns to protect us, and three meals a day.” He patted her hand. “We’re safer than out there, but…I still worry that something’s up.”

“Because nobody does nothing for nobody unless there’s something in it for them.” She repeated his words to him and he nodded.

“Yeah.” He sat back in the chair and glanced to the door. “I mean, yeah, they want your blood to try to make a cure. But what happens if they can’t? Will they dump us overboard? Ship us back to the shore to deal with the crazies? Send us back to Hatcher’s compound?” He threw his hands into the air.

“Surely not.” Her face grew concerned as she spoke. “They are the government, right? They can’t just dump us overboard if they think we’re no good to them. Can they?”

“The nine most dangerous words in the English language are, ‘We’re from the government and we’re here to help.’”

“Like death and taxes?”

Jason snorted a quick laugh. “Yeah, sweetie, something like that.”

Squirrel pulled into the lot of a small grocery store and shut off his engine. He could hear Slug approaching and assumed he got the old Harley to kick off. He shot a glance in the direction of the approaching bike and knew that Slug wasn’t happy.

He waited until the man pulled in next to him. “Why don’t you leave it idling and keep watch out here. I’ll go in and check it out. If there’s anything in there worth scrounging, I’ll come back for ya.”

Slug said nothing, but shifted his bike into neutral. He sat atop the scraped-up motorcycle and stared straight ahead. He took that as an ‘Okay, buddy, sounds good.’

Squirrel pulled his gun and approached the broken glass doors of the store. He couldn’t hear anything inside, but the smell was horrible. He was certain something lay dead on the floor and made a mental note to watch each step. The last thing he needed was to slip on somebody’s spleen and do a face plant into a liquefied corpse.

He pulled his sunglasses off and hung them from his jacket. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he could make out aisles filled with rotting and destroyed foodstuffs.

He took a deep breath and stepped farther inside. The smell hit him like a wall and he nearly gagged. He forced himself to breathe through his mouth and swore he could taste the funk that hung in the air.

The buzz of flies was heavy and once his eyes adjusted further to the darkness, it appeared as though every inch of the rear of the store was covered in moving blackness. He assumed it was flies. He prayed it was just flies.

For a moment his mind brought Dodger to his thoughts and he wanted to chuckle at the German Shepherd. He would snap at anything flying in the air. They used to joke that to him, they were air raisins.

That stupid dog would have had a good time in here.

He soon found the source of the smell. The meat counter had still been partially stocked, and now with the power off and the ungodly heat, everything was a wriggling mass of maggots. He instinctively covered his mouth with his hand to prevent flies from inspecting his oral cavity and worked toward the other side of the store.

He scanned row after row of destroyed goods, none of it salvageable. He glanced at the cooler doors and saw that anything bottled had already been pilfered.

“Screw this,” he muttered to himself as he made his way back to the front doors.

As soon as he was back in fresh air he took a deep breath and nearly vomited. The smell had left a coating in his mouth and he could taste whatever the funk was. He bent over and spit a long string of saliva out while fighting the urge to dump the peaches he had eaten earlier.

“There’s nothing in there but nasty.” He practically staggered out to his bike and barely noticed Slug pointing ahead of them. This time Squirrel caught the flash of light and squinted against the brightness. He pulled his sunglasses back on and looked back at the source of the flashes.

Almost immediately screams could be heard behind them and he mounted his bike. “We need to figure out what those flashes are.” Slug glared at him, still not speaking. “If it’s survivors, they might have what we need.”

Slug kicked the bike into gear and pulled ahead. Squirrel started his Indian and pulled out behind him, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the screams behind them.

The pair rode up toward the ridge and parked on the closest paved road to where they saw the flashes. “I’ll take a look. You keep an eye out for the ragers.” Squirrel stepped toward the top of the ridge and saw where the dirt had been disturbed, but he couldn’t see any discernable tracks. Whoever it was had lain upon the ground and watched them. He could see where they had come and gone, but the ground was too hard to reveal tracks that could tell him which set was the approach and which set was the departure. He stared in both directions, hoping to see either a fleeing form or dust from their running.

Nothing.

He marched back down toward the bikes and shook his head. “I can see where they were, but can’t tell which way they went.”

“So, you ride an Indian, but you ain’t got none in ya?” Slug smiled through brown teeth.

Squirrel mounted his bike and decided he liked Slug better when he was quiet. He caught another flash in the distance and for a moment thought, Damn they were moving fast! After he watched the reflection a moment longer, he realized it was the other riders in their group. He slapped at Slug’s sleeve and pointed. “We need to gather the troops.”

Henry backed the two and half-ton truck to the front doors of the grocery store while others jumped out of pickups, vans, and any other vehicle that could haul goods and people. Wally appeared in his side mirror and waved him back. When he waved his hands, Henry set the parking brake and shut off the engine.

He hopped down from the cab and marched toward the front door with a crowbar. “Remember your roles, people!”

He shoved the bar between the doors and pried them open. Two others pulled the doors fully-open and held them while four men with rifles entered the building in a tactical formation.

Henry tossed the crow bar to Wally, then pulled his pistol. “Let’s clear this beast and beat feet.”

“I’m with ya.” Wally tossed the crowbar into the back of the truck and pulled down the loading ramp. He turned to Henry and nodded. “Ready.”

Like a well-oiled machine, once the building was cleared, the people shopping all grabbed buggies and began racing down the aisles grabbing anything that still looked usable. Some took the time to stack items in order to fit more, others used an arm clearing motion to sweep stuff into the buggies. Once full, they ran them to the front of the store and switched out for another buggy. People assigned to the front would either unload the buggies into vehicles or muscle them up the loading ramp of the bigger truck and park the buggies in the far end.

Wally and Henry had specific instructions from Vicky. Hit the pharmacy and clean them out. Nothing was to be left behind. Even an out of date medication was better than nothing in an emergency. She wanted every bandage, every bottle of alcohol, every medication, and anything that even remotely could be used in a medical emergency.

They filled three buggies with nothing but the medications behind the counter, and two more with the over the counter meds. They lost count of how many more buggies they filled with anything from the shelves that might be usable.

Their goal was to strip the store of everything but the fixtures, but it quickly became obvious that, even with the dozens of people gathering items, there was no way they could empty the large store in one trip.

Henry and Wally stood at the front of the store and wondered how the folks stacking the goods had lifted the overloaded buggies to stack on top of each other, but they did.

“I’m too old for this shit.” Wally huffed as he pulled the doors shut on the largest truck. He picked up the loading ramp and wondered where all of the extra weight had come from since he’d unloaded it.

“I don’t know if I should be happy or sad that we couldn’t get it all.” Henry leaned against the side of the truck and shook his head. “We could make three more trips and still not get it all.”

Wally smiled. “So we come back again. And again, and—”

“No way Candy will let us. Not while she thinks there are marauders out there.” He looked sadly at the store as the last of the shoppers exited and people shoved the goods into their vehicles. “If those fuckers are coming, there ain’t nothing to stop them from raiding this place and picking it clean.”

Wally patted the man’s shoulder. “Cheer up, man. We have enough crap to last a year, and you’re worried somebody else might come upon this?”

Henry nodded. “And the realization that this place was untouched.” He glanced out toward the rest of the town. “Can we safely assume there are no more survivors out there?”

Wally shrugged. “Not our problem, man.” He pointed to the people loading up in their vehicles. “These people are our problem. And the way I see it, we just did good.”

Henry sighed and leaned his head back against the side of the box truck. “Maybe we can convince Candy we can squeeze in one more run?”

“Even if we can’t, it’s fuckin’ Christmas, dude!” Wally shot him a toothy grin, then disappeared around the side of the truck. Henry groaned and opened the cab. He climbed up into the seat and started the big diesel engine.

“Yay.” He muttered to himself as he realized that they still had to unload all of this. “Christmas.”

Chapter 11

To his credit, Hollis said little while Hatcher recounted his tale of dealing with Vickers. He seemed honestly surprised to learn it was the colonel’s recklessness that caused the shit storm the world was now trying to survive.

Hatcher paused his story while Captain Hollis barked orders and the two oversaw the men preparing the trucks. Just after they got the first Humvee started, Hatcher finished his tail and waited for Hollis to say something.

“That’s quite a story you have there, Mr. Hatcher.”

“It’s not just a story. It’s the truth.”

“I have no doubt that you believe that.”

Hatcher suddenly stiffened and glared at the military man.

“You don’t believe me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I’m not saying I believe you or that I think you’re being less than honest.” Hollis slapped the dirt from his hands and turned to face the shorter man. “I just can’t wrap my mind around the idea this whole mess is because Colonel Vickers used force in…an unconventional manner.”

“Unconventional manner? He blew the top off the fucking mountain and got the virus airborne.” Hatcher ground his teeth while he studied the man. “If he’d done his job, instead of—”

“And what would you have had him do?” Hollis stared at him. “Precisely, what would you have had him do?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe cordon off the area, gather the survivors, try to contain the infected. Get them some help before things got out of hand.”

Hollis nodded thoughtfully. “I see. And how exactly does one cordon off…how many acres is this park?”

Hatcher swallowed hard and continued to glare at him. “Two and a quarter million.”

Hollis nodded. “I see. And Vickers had…what? Maybe two dozen men with him?” He glared back at Hatcher.

“He could have tried.”

“Mr. Hatcher, I’m not here to get into a pissing contest with you. Hindsight is blessedly 20/20. Could have, should have, would have…those are all nice to consider after the fact.” Hollis opened the door to the Humvee and stepped up into it. “But the fact remains there was a contagion and Colonel Vickers was ordered here to contain it. Did he make the wrong decision? Obviously. But did he do it out of ignorance or a desire to destroy the world?” He pulled the door shut and waved the man closer. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“He was warned.” Hatcher gripped the side of the window and leaned closer. “His own people told him the virus was…what was the word? It liked hot stuff. Dropping a bomb on it just made it more comfortable.”

“Perhaps.” Hollis motioned him to the other side of the transport. “But we can’t know what the man was thinking. And while I believe what you stated happened, it doesn’t mean that I believe Vickers did what he did to spite anybody’s warning. I have to believe he acted in what he thought was the best interest of everybody.”

Hatcher pulled the door shut and shook his head. “Then you’re as big a fool as he is.”

“Isn’t that obvious? I’m here, aren’t I?” Hollis gave him a crooked smile. “What say we grab this bug and get the hell out of here?”

“Just drop me off at my compound when we’re through.” Hatcher propped his arm on the open window rest. “If I saw Vickers again, I think I’d finish what we started in the center.”

“Understood.” Hollis pulled the Humvee around and allowed two of his troops to climb into the back seats. He watched through the side mirrors and when the second truck pulled in behind him, he accelerated. “Just point the way.”

“There’s probably a huge blockage of vehicles on the road to your right. Take the trail on the left.” Hatcher avoided the man’s eyes and stared out the window as Hollis turned and accelerated.

Hatcher’s eyes scanned the trees for movement. He didn’t realize how paranoid he’d become since the fall of civilization, but one simply could not be too careful these days. He nearly jumped when the roof began banging and a soldier dropped down from the gun turret and pointed over Hollis’ shoulder.

“We got movement.”

“Don’t fire until it’s identified. That fifty can be heard for miles, and we don’t need any more help attracting the local wildlife.” Hollis tried to watch the vehicle in front of him and scan the area at the same time.

As the lead vehicle rounded a curve, it suddenly stopped and Hollis practically stood on the brakes to keep from hitting the Humvee in front of him. “What the hell!” He set the parking brake and threw open his door, intent on chewing somebody’s ass.

As he approached the driver, he noted the passengers had disembarked and were setting up a defensive perimeter. The driver stepped out and leveled his carbine on the woods to his left.

“What’s wrong…” Hollis’ words trailed off as he stared at the large trees laying across the trail. He turned and pointed to Hatcher. “Is there another way?”

Hatcher stared at the downed trees and shook his head. He walked closer to the fallen trees and snapped a twig from the branch. “These have been here a while.” He held the branch up to Hollis and snapped it. “They’re drying out already.”

“And that means what to me?”

Hatcher tossed the twigs aside. “It means this isn’t recent. Whoever did this was either marking territory or blocking a trail that others used.”

Hollis raised a brow. “You mean these things have marked territory now? Are we gonna find that some alpha male has hiked on every tree between here and his cave?” He couldn’t help but smirk.

Hatcher shrugged. “I have no idea their behaviors, captain. All I know is what this looks like to me.”

Hollis groaned and motioned to two of the rear guards. “Winch those things out of the way. Cut ’em up if you have to.”

Hatcher leaned across the hood of the Humvee and stretched his neck. “Nobody said this would be easy.”

“No, Mr. Hatcher, they didn’t.” Hollis watched as the men wrapped chain and began to attempt to drag the logs from the road. “I just hope we don’t run into too many more of these, or we may not make the site by nightfall.”

Hatcher’s face rose and he studied Hollis’ features. “Nightfall?”

“I have no intention of staying here past dark. From what we’ve gathered, these things have no trouble seeing in the dark. We, on the other hand, do not have that luxury.”

“You didn’t bring night vision?”

Hollis turned and gave him a confused stare. “Of course. But it’s so restrictive…it’s more of a hindrance than anything.” He sighed and slung his rifle. “You know as well as I do how lethal these creatures are. Would you want to be here after sundown?”

Hatcher shook his head slowly. “Not again.”

“Then we better pray there aren’t any more road blocks. Otherwise, we might be in for an eventful night.”

“I’m not having any luck. Every place I check has already been looted.” Squirrel searched the other men’s faces and they all read the same. “I’m open to suggestions.”

One of the bikers from the secondary group shrugged. “We could go house to house. Maybe start at some of the nicer places.”

Slug spat on the ground and shook his head. “Why the fancy places?”

The biker shrugged again. “People with money would be better suited to protecting themselves from the crazies, man. You know. Safe rooms and shit.”

“And guns.” Squirrel added. “If they’ve survived this long, odds are they’re armed to the teeth.”

Slug smiled again and Squirrel fought a shiver. “I could use me some new guns.” He chuckled and elbowed the man next to him. “Maybe even a little senorita or two.”

The other man gave a halfhearted laugh. Apparently, Slug gave him the creeps as well. He took a half-step farther from the man and crossed his arms.

“If that’s the best bet for finding supplies, we may have to try it. Maybe we lure them out. Grab somebody from inside and use them to disarm the others?”

Squirrel sighed and shook his head slowly. “My gut tells me it’s too risky.” He looked up at the others. “Would you hand over your gun because one of us was caught?” He noted the blank expressions on their faces. “Yeah, neither would I.”

“I’d shoot through you to kill them.” Slug deadpanned. He looked up at Squirrel and added a quick smile. “Just saying.”

“I have no doubts.” Squirrel turned, effectively blocking Slug from both his view and the conversation. “I say we finish up with the little gas and go stations. Meet back at the hotel, and first thing tomorrow we head out.”

“Want me to radio Simon and let him know what we’ve found?” one of the men asked. Squirrel wasn’t sure his name.

“Nah. Our primary mission is the group that truck came from. Until we find them, let’s save the batteries.” He straddled his motorcycle then turned to face the others. “But if we find a cache of food or weapons…or ammo…if we need help transporting the loot, then we call him. Otherwise, we wait until we have something more solid.”

“Understood.” The tallest of the other men turned and addressed his group, “Load up. We have more work to do.”

Squirrel watched the group ride off, then started his Indian. He glanced at Slug who was still trying to kick start his. Once the engine belched to life, Squirrel put the bike into gear and pulled ahead slowly. They still had a lot of area to cover and the sun was already dropping in the sky.

He could almost feel the knife in his back and stole a glance through his side mirror. Slug was pointing his finger at him and made a shooting motion when he thought Squirrel wasn’t watching.

He knew that the time was quickly coming that he’d have to do something about the brown-toothed man. He hoped that Simon wouldn’t mind that Slug was lost in action during this operation.

Jason opened the door slowly and noted the activity in the room. Dr. LaRue was barking orders and there was a low murmur of hurried voices as people rushed about. He stepped inside and couldn’t track all of the people in white coats as the personnel hurriedly went about their business.

“Hey, you aren’t supposed to be in here.” A man with a surgical mask pointed at him.

“I, uh…needed to talk to—”

“Not now, Jason.” Dr. LaRue appeared in front of him and Jason was just able to see one of the infected strapped to a table. A man next to him was pointing what looked like a radar gun at the patient. Whatever the machine was, the man was docile, and actually appeared to have a soft smile across his face, his eyes closed as though getting a foot massage.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jason took a step back, his eyes glued to the creature in the center of the room.

“We’re testing Bren’s blood on somebody already infected.” She tried to push him back through the door, but he sidestepped her and slowly approached the patient.

“I thought you kept them sealed up! Why is he out of containment? We’re all at risk!” His voice took on a twinge of panic as worst-case scenarios played out in his mind.

“Stop it!” Vivian grabbed his arm and dragged him back toward the door. “You need to leave. Now!”

Jason threw a hand back and held the door closed. “No.” He stared at her adamantly. “I want to know…I need to know.”

“You are not authorized to—”

“If you’re using Bren’s blood, then I have every right to know.” He clenched his jaw and stared at her.

Dr. LaRue stepped aside. “Very well. But you don’t move from this spot. And if things start to go sideways—”

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll be out of here so quick it will make your head spin.” He crossed his arms and peered over her shoulder at the infected man that now appeared asleep.

One of the workers approached the pair. “Doctor? We’re ready.”

She gave Jason one last glare, then lifted her own surgical mask. “All right, people. Let’s do this.”

She walked to the examination table and wrapped a rubber band around the man’s arm. She tapped at the bend of his elbow a few times trying to make a vein jump, then placed the needle at a nearly horizontal angle. “Injecting the anesthesia at 1640 hours.” He watched her depress the plunger, then release the rubber band.

The others in the room hurriedly went about their work. One was monitoring the creature’s heart rate, another its breathing. The same man with the radar gun continued holding the device close to the creature’s head.

Dr. LaRue grabbed another, much larger syringe and injected it into a clear bottle. She pulled out a large dose, then nodded to the people on either side of the creature. “Turn him.”

They lifted the nearly nude figure and turned him to his side. She ran her fingers across the creature’s thigh to nearly his hip, then walked her fingers across. She marked the spot, then plunged the needle deep into the creature’s skin. Jason cringed at the action and noted that the creature barely reacted.

She slowly injected the milky fluid, then had to tug to remove the needle. “Give me the other.” She held her hand out flat and another person gently placed a smaller syringe into her grip.

She found the large gluteus muscle and injected the creature with the dose. She stepped back and turned to those monitoring vitals. “Any change?”

They shook their heads and she let her breath out. “Excellent.” She pulled the mask down and began stripping her surgical gloves. “Get him strapped down in a room where you can monitor him, and make sure there’s a generator running inside. I want blood samples every twelve hours, and those results need to be rushed through the lab, got it?”

The man holding the radar gun nodded. “Got it.”

She stepped away as the others began strapping the creature down with heavy leather bindings. She grabbed Jason by the shoulder, and this time he didn’t resist as she walked him out and into the hallway.

“What was so damned important it couldn’t have waited?”

Jason stepped back and his shock was easily noted. She had never spoken so sharply with him before and it caught him off guard.

“I…uh…” He turned away sheepishly. “I don’t remember now.” His voice was barely a whisper and Vivian LaRue had to count to five to get her temper under control.

“Jason, that could have been a very dangerous procedure.”

“I was far enough away that I’m sure I could have—”

“You were a distraction and distractions get people killed.” She stepped directly in front of him and locked eyes. “If you want to risk your life, I can’t stop you. But I will not have you, or anybody else for that matter, putting my people’s lives at risk. Do you understand?”

Jason nodded and looked away. “Sorry, doc. I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Now you know. If I tell you to leave, it’s not just for your own good.”

He nodded slightly, then turned his eyes back to the door. “What did you do to it?”

“Him. Not it.” She cleared her throat. “He’s a guinea pig of sorts.”

“I figured that much. But…what did you do?”

“He’s the fourth test. We think we might have a vaccine…but we coupled it with gene therapy. The first subject got just the vaccine. The second got a variant of the same vaccine. The third got just the gene therapy and this subject, he got it all. We gave him the gene therapy and the two variants.”

“And you’re gonna run with whichever one works?”

She shrugged off her lab coat and dropped it into the soiled bin. “We’re going to monitor them all and pray that any of them improve.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh, I remember.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and toward the hall. “Bren. She’s not feeling too well.”

Dr. LaRue’s head snapped up. “Not well, how?”

Jason shifted from foot to foot and avoided her gaze. “She was throwing up. And she says her stomach was cramping.”

Dr. LaRue nodded. She pulled another lab coat from the stack of clean linens and snatched a handful of gloves. “Let’s go take a look.”

Jason turned and began working his way back up the hall. “I guess that makes me a lousy boyfriend…considering that was why I came looking for you.”

“It makes you human, Jason.” She pulled the coat over her shoulders and fell into step behind him. “That’s more than I can say for our test subjects right about now.”

Henry pulled the door shut on the truck and slapped at Wally’s arm. “Come on.”

Wally gave him a confused stare. “Come where? Man, we got a shit-ton of stuff to put away.”

“It’s unloaded. Let the others stock it.” He pulled Wally aside and lowered his voice. “If we hurry, we can get one more load. I know we can.”

Wally’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “She’ll flip shit on us, man. Why you always got to be pushing like this?”

Henry pointed out the door. “There’s a whole warehouse store full of stores. If there really are marauders out there, that’s like giving them a written invitation to move in, settle in, put up defenses, and then stir up shit with us. You know that as well as I do.” He clamped his mouth shut as a trio of workers shuffled by carrying a shopping cart with a broken wheel. Once they were clear, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “The more of that stuff we can grab and bring back here, the less chance of them staying. Maybe they’ll load up on dry goods and bail.”

Wally was shaking his head slowly. “This isn’t a smart move man. If Candy—”

“She won’t even know until we’ve gotten back.” Henry pleaded with him. “You know I’m right. We can grab the grand majority of what’s left and be back before they’ve finished putting stuff away.”

Wally groaned and gave him a sideways look. “How do you always talk me into this stuff?”

Henry broke into a toothy grin. “Because you know I’m right.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t wanna be there when you ain’t!”

Henry started the engine and pulled forward while Wally manned the large gates. As the truck drove by and Wally pulled the gate shut, he muttered, “I hope to hell we don’t regret this.”

Chapter 12

Hatcher watched as the men worked to remove the logs blocking their way. The winches could barely move the large trunks and they used two Humvees to pull the logs back. One truck was chained to the other and Hatcher shielded his eyes when the large tires spun in the loose dirt.

He was actually surprised when the logs broke loose and began sliding. He watched as the men tugged, pushed, and rolled the trunks to the side of the trail, and when there was ample room to get the trucks through, they tossed the chains in the rear and prepared to leave. He tried to guess the distance to the hot springs area and wished they had grabbed the topomap from the wall of the Visitor’s Center.

“What’s wrong?” Hollis asked.

“I know it hasn’t been that long, but the terrain looks off to me.” Hatcher shook his head as he stared out the open window. “Some things that I think look familiar suddenly aren’t again when I spot something else.

Hollis grunted. “You wouldn’t think the terrain would change that much.”

“Exactly.” Hatcher continued to stare, his mind trying to connect the few landmarks that still stood out.

Hollis slowed the truck again and cursed under his breath when the lead vehicle came to another stop.

Captain Hollis slammed the door as he departed and muttered epithets as he walked around the lead vehicle. “What is it now…,” his voice trailed off as he stared at the next road block.

Hatcher appeared at his side and whistled low. “I’m guessing this is where part of that mountain came to rest.” He chuckled to himself. “No wonder nothing looked right.”

Hollis turned to him. “How much farther?”

Hatcher shrugged. “A couple miles up that mountain.”

Hollis groaned as he stared at his watch. “Fine.” He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Alpha and Bravo, grab your gear and let’s get moving. Charlie stays with the trucks and maintain radio contact.”

Hatcher followed him to the rear of the Humvee and each man grabbed their respective ruck. “We won’t be back before dark.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” Hollis shouldered the pack and tighten the cinches. “We’ll just have to do the best we can.”

“There are other trails that lead to the same area.”

Hollis shook his head. “Odds are, they’ll all be covered with debris of some type. I can’t risk backtracking this late in the day in the hopes that another route is clear.”

Hatcher reached for his arm. “Hey. We can bunk in the Visitor’s Center. There’s two access points and minimal windows. It’s defendable.”

Hollis stared at him. “I have no intention of staying overnight.”

Hatcher raised a brow and turned toward the mountain. “You may not have a choice. It might be better to hunker down tonight and start fresh in the morning.” Hollis inhaled to retort when Hatcher held a hand up to stop him. “I’m not saying we don’t recon the trails and look for damage while we still have light.”

“It would take too long and—”

“If I can get one of the ATV’s running, I can do it. I’ve outrun the infected with them before, I’m sure I can do it again.”

Hollis shook his head. “Maybe if we’d thought to bring a drone or some other form of aerial surveillance, but going it alone on an ATV? That’s suicide.”

Hatcher crossed his arms and studied the man. “I know these mountains. Maybe the terrain has been altered, but I still know the trails. Wildlife will take the shortest and easiest route to where they’re going. If I stick to the game trails, I should be able to recon the areas, find the worst of the damage, and be back before you know it.”

“Too risky.”

“But it’s not too risky to march us all up the mountain and pray we make it back in the dark?”

Hollis ground his teeth and pursed his lips. He wanted to come back with a smart-assed remark, but bit his tongue. “What trails do you suggest?”

“The map is back at the Visitor’s Center. I can point them out to you there.” He motioned back the way they came. “It’s a topomap, so you can get a feel for what we’re up against.”

“That was before the mountain top was blown off.”

“True, but the base terrain will still be the same. We’ll just have to maneuver around whatever obstacles were thrown in our way.”

Hollis pulled his sunglasses away and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stared up the mountain as far as he could see then back the way they had come. “You figure it was debris that felled those trees in the road?”

Hatcher shook his head. “I think something put them there.”

Hollis nodded, then pulled the straps from his ruck. “Change of plans. Everybody load up.” He tossed his pack into the back of the truck and gave Hatcher a sideways stare. “We’re going back to the Visitor Center and setting up a command post. It looks like we’ll be tackling this job at first light.” He slammed the cover on the rear of the slant back and twisted the latch.

“Everybody stay frosty. We might be in for a rough night.”

Squirrel dropped the kickstand on his bike and slid from the saddle. He ignored Slug as he drove past him and parked closer to the doors of the hotel.

Squirrel opened the hard bag on the side of his Indian and pulled the small satchel of food he was able to dig up and slung it over his shoulder. “At least we have something more than peaches and hard tack.”

Slug ignored him and made his way inside the old hotel. Squirrel watched the man walk away, and for a moment wondered if he’d make his move if Squirrel didn’t offer up some of the grub. It would be fitting to kill him over something that trivial, but people like Slug really didn’t need a reason to be shot. They needed killing.

Squirrel had just slipped under the shadow of the front Ramada when he heard the muffled report of gunshots coming from within the hotel. He dropped the satchel and sprinted to the front doors, using the edge as cover while he peered into the gloomy interior.

Slug tried to run out of the lobby and slipped on the loose sand covering the floor. He slid into the adjacent wall, and as he scrambled to come to his feet, one of the crazies launched himself from the hallway and bit down hard on the man’s calf.

Squirrel shuddered at the scream and leveled his pistol on the creature tearing chunks of flesh from Slug’s leg. He pulled the trigger and watched as blood and gore sprayed the wall behind the screaming biker. His eyes scanned the area and came back to Slug trying to get to his feet again, his ruined leg slipping in his own blood as he tried to regain his footing.

“Don’t you fucking shoot me, man! Don’t you fucking do it!” he screamed through clenched teeth. He placed his hand along the wall and fought to get his feet back under him. He was panting and had broken into a cold sweat. Squirrel knew it wouldn’t be long.

Slug turned and pressed his back to the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Sumbitch was waiting for me in the hallway.”

Squirrel watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his free hand running down the length of his thigh and squeezing just short of the bite on his calf. “Goddammit…this is not how I was supposed to go out.”

Squirrel stepped into the dim light of the lobby and stared at the man slowly slipping down the wall and back to the floor. “Exactly how were you supposed to go out?”

Slug laughed and spat between his legs. “I was supposed to be shot to death, man. At the ripe old age of a hundred…by a twenty-one-year-old jealous husband.”

He laughed at his own joke and ended up coughing. He breathed heavily as he tried to catch his wind again and slowly opened his eyes.

“You will be shot to death.” Squirrel pointed the barrel at his forehead and stared into his eyes as they slowly filled with blood. “But I ain’t no jealous husband.”

“What the fuck, man?”

Squirrel didn’t turn to see his compatriots as they entered the lobby. He kept his eyes on Slug and waited for him to turn completely.

“Don’t let this cocksucker shoot me, man!” Slug yelled. “I got attacked, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna….” He trailed off and shook his head slowly. “Don’t mean I’m…gonna…fuck me, my head hurts.” Squirrel watched him pinch his eyes shut, his jaw clenched.

“Somebody get me some aspirin, man. My head is killing me…”

Squirrel took a half-step forward and the men standing behind him took a step back. They knew what was about to happen and they didn’t want to be close if the larger man missed.

Slug opened his eyes and glared at the group. He opened his mouth and a harsh scream erupted from his throat that all of them were too familiar with.

Squirrel pulled the trigger just as the man jerked and tried to launch himself from a sitting position. He fell at their feet, his brain hanging loosely from the hole in the back of his head.

Squirrel holstered his weapon and turned to the other two. “Strip him of any usable weapons and if you need parts from his bike, you’d better hurry before the sun sets.”

He turned and walked toward the stairwell. His room still had water in the tank and he felt the need to clean up before he fell asleep.

Dr. LaRue pulled the thermometer from Bren’s forehead and read the digital display. “Looks like a low-grade fever.” She lifted the girl’s wrist and monitored her pulse. “Have you eaten anything that didn’t sit right with you or…?”

Bren shook her head. “No, ma’am. I just started feeling shaky, like when you haven’t eaten in a long time. I snacked on some crackers and some tea.”

“Well, it appears you may have an infection. It could be anything. An ear infection, strep throat…heck, it could even be chicken pox.” She stripped the sterile gloves from her hands and dug through her leather bag. “Here are some general antibiotics. It’s just a Z pack, so take two tonight and one a day until they’re all gone. If this doesn’t clear it up, then it’s probably viral.”

Jason’s head popped up and he stared at her wild-eyed. “Wait…did you say virus? Like—”

Vivian held her hand up. “When it comes to bugs that make us sick, they’re either bacterial or viral. Antibiotics will help with bacteria, but they don’t work on viruses.”

“But does that mean she might be starting to get sick from the virus? Or…maybe one of the mutated strains you talked about?”

She shook her head. “Her eyes are still clear. She doesn’t display any of the other symptoms that the infected have, so my best guess is absolutely not.” She patted the young man’s hand to reassure him. “It’s probably nothing.”

“But it could be something, right?” He sounded desperate.

“Jason, stop it.” Bren pulled the covers up closer to her neck and leaned back on her bunk. “It’s probably some silly bug.”

“More than likely it’s something common.” Vivian closed her bag and gave him a reassuring smile. “Remember, you two were on your own for a very long time. People actually catch the majority of their illnesses from being around other people. They get sick and infect the area with their germs. Once they are over the bug, they have a natural immunity to it, but the germs are still there. Now that you are back around other people, odds are, you’ll both suffer from a few different bugs we’ve had here on the ship.” She stood and reached for the door. “I recommend lots of fluids and rest. Call me if anything changes.”

Jason pushed the door shut behind her and turned to Bren. “I saw what they were doing.”

Bren nodded and closed her eyes. “Working on a cure?”

“They were testing your blood on the crazies.” He swallowed hard and waited for her response. She nodded absently and leaned her head farther into her pillow. “Didn’t you hear me? They were using the infected as guinea pigs.”

Bren slowly opened her eyes and stared at him. “So?”

“So?!” He sat down and stared at her expectantly. “What do you mean, so?”

“Jason, I don’t care if they hang them all off the edge of the ship and set them on fire, not if it helps to find a cure.”

Jason didn’t realize his mouth was open until he felt his jaw moving and no words came out. “I can’t believe you would say that.”

“I would, and I did.” She slid farther into the mattress and cracked an eye open to look at him. “They’re infected. If they find a cure and it helps them, then yay. If they test on them and it kills them, there are literally millions more back on shore that they can keep testing on…until they’re all gone. I really don’t care.”

He fell back into his chair and stared at her. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I did.” She rolled away from him and pulled the wool blanket up farther across her shoulders. “I’m tired, Jason. I just want to sleep now.”

“Bren, they’re using those people as guinea pigs!”

She sat up suddenly and glared at him. “They aren’t people, Jason. They’re monsters. Given the opportunity, they would run you down and eat you for breakfast. They don’t care. They don’t think. They don’t even feel…not the way you or I do. So, if they want to use them as guinea pigs, I say to go for it.” She jerked the blanket up and glared at him once more. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired.”

He watched her roll back over and snap the blanket around herself. He tried to argue with her, but he couldn’t.

“Fine. I’ll just go and…and…find some coffee or something.”

He waited a moment and she refused to respond. He jerked the door open and marched outside. He tried to slam the door behind him, but the hydraulic catch at the top prevented him from making a dramatic exit.

He stomped to the cafeteria and sat alone in the corner with his cup of coffee. He sat and stewed while it cooled, and he couldn’t understand why he was so mad.

Of course, they’d have to test any potential cures, and who better to test them on than somebody who was already infected. You couldn’t very well inoculate a healthy person and then expose them to the rage virus…that could be catastrophic if the vaccine didn’t work. Besides, who in their right mind would volunteer for such a thing?

He sipped the coffee and tried to get his feelings under control. Why was he so angry? Because they didn’t tell him every little thing they would do? Because he felt like he and Bren should have some kind of say over their actions? It was her blood.

He continued to sip at the coffee and try to think his way through the mix of emotions. They weren’t exactly people any longer.

Or were they?

Was that why he was so mad?

He turned and stared at the personnel who came through the cafeteria and tried to imagine which of them would be used to test potential cures. He tried to imagine each of them at their jobs…fixing engines or tying knots or…whatever the hell it was they did on these floating cities. How would they do their jobs if the cure failed?

He drank down the last of the coffee and stared at the exit. Maybe Dr. LaRue would be more forthcoming with information if he simply asked her what was going on? Would that make him feel any better?

He stood and placed his cup on the line where they all placed their dirty dishes and made his way out the door.

What could it hurt to ask her? The worst she could do is tell him it was none of his damned business, right?

Henry backed to the doors again and Wally jumped from the cab. He pulled the loading ramp down and stared at the glass doors. When Henry came up alongside him, he nodded toward the glass and aluminum store front. “Should we clear it again?”

Henry nodded. “At least a cursory inspection.”

Both men pulled their weapons and walked toward the doors. Wally pulled the doors open and Henry stepped into the gloom with his torch in one hand, pistol in the other.

They went down the ends of the aisles and ensured that nothing was lurking in the shadows to attack them. Once they were relatively satisfied they were alone, each man grabbed a remaining buggy and began filling it with whatever they could find.

Wally couldn’t help but feel they were wasting their time, but he knew his friend was right. The more they left, the more others could use. Others who might not have humanity’s best intentions in mind.

He wheeled the cart to the front of the store and pulled another buggy from the remaining carts. He went back to the canned meat aisle and was surprised at how much potential protein the others had left. He scooped armloads off the shelf and into the shopping cart.

“You can skip the Spam, if you don’t mind.” Henry shot him a goofy smile. “If I never eat that crap again, it will be too soon.”

Wally reached into the cart and lifted one of the tins. “But this one is BBQ flavored.” He smiled back. “Beggars can’t be choosy.” He dropped the tin back into the cart and continued down the aisle. He shuddered at the idea of some of the products he scraped into the cart. Whole canned chicken? That can’t be good for you.

He lifted the can and was surprised by the weight. “Must have been one big bird.”

“That crap is good for dog food and chicken and dumplings. That’s it. Nothing else.” Henry informed him. “My wife, god bless her soul, brought one of those home once and the smell almost ran us both out of the kitchen.” He chuckled as he scraped goods from the other side of the aisle into another cart.

“Good to know.” Wally dropped it into the cart. “I hate chicken and dumplings.” He pushed the cart farther down the aisle and paused. “I wish I had my dog, though.”

“You and me both.” Henry stopped and gave him a sad look. “I had a mutt named Freeway, cuz that’s where we found him. Just a pup when we first got him.” He made a tsk sound and shook his head. “Best dog I ever owned.”

Wally nodded. “We had a Dachshund. Meanest little bastard you’d ever meet, but he loved us.” He shot Henry a smile. “Probably because we fed his fat little ass.”

Henry returned the smile and continued shopping. “I miss ice cream. The real stuff, bud, not this soft serve crap.”

“Real steak.” Wally moaned. With a baked potato and sour cream.”

“Ooh, momma’s fried chicken. With mashed taters and gravy.”

Wally laughed. “The best fried chicken I had was from KFC.” He turned and gave his friend a cockeyed smile. “My wife burned the shit out of anything she tried to fry.” He shook his head. “Sad, really.”

Henry paused at the end of the aisle and leaned on the cart. “I used to dream of running into a farm in the middle of nowhere. No Zulus, no other people, but lots of critters. You know, chickens and hogs and cows and…,” he sighed. “Chickens would lay fresh eggs. The cows would give us fresh milk and cream.”

“Let me guess, the hogs would lay fresh bacon for you every morning?” He gave his buddy a shitty grin.

“Sure. Why not?” Henry chuckled as he pushed the cart to the front. “Maybe one day, man.”

Wally fell into step behind him. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up. If the Zulus haven’t sniffed out every farm critter in the world and made a snack of them, they would probably have starved to death before you could find them.”

“You’re such an optimist.” Henry pushed the cart toward the door and reached for another. Something outside the front door caught his attention and he reached for Wally. “We got company!”

He pushed through the doorway and pulled his pistol. He crept along the back of the truck and ducked low at the rear bumper as a car came careening around a corner and jumped the curb to the parking lot of the grocery store.

“They know we’re here.” Even though the operator of the vehicle couldn’t possibly hear them, he found himself whispering. “Cover that side.”

Wally duck walked to the other corner of the truck and stole a peek around the corner. He groaned as he came to his feet and lowered his weapon. “We’re screwed.”

Henry bristled. “How many?”

Wally dropped his head and shook it. “Just two.” He holstered his weapon and turned to his friend. “But one of them is Candy.”

Henry groaned as his feet went out from under him and he fell hard onto his butt. “Dammit.”

Chapter 13

Hatcher checked the tank on the four-wheeled ATV, then pulled the dipstick. Satisfied that it was safe to try to start the machine, he turned the key and hit the START button. The engine revved and he goosed the thumb throttle. Once the engine caught and fired, he kicked it into gear and pulled it out of the maintenance building and around to the front of the Visitor’s Center.

He stepped off, letting the engine idle and grabbed a few items from the ransacked office. A length of rope, flashlight, extra batteries, and two bottles of water. Hollis caught him as he was heading out the door. “You really think you’re going to need that stuff? Aren’t you just checking the trails to make sure they’re passable?”

“That’s the idea, but like the Boy Scouts motto, be prepared.” He dumped the items into the rear storage bin and locked the lid.

“If you think there’s a real chance you’ll be out past dark, I want some of my men to go with you. I’m really not comfortable with you doing this run alone.”

Hatcher stood and stretched his back. He glanced up toward the mountain, then back to Hollis. “I’m not expecting trouble, but your men would just slow me down. I know those trails like the back of my hand.”

“That was before the top of the mountain was blown off and scattered down the sides.” Hollis shook his head. “I’d just feel better if you had an escort.”

Hatcher groaned and reached for the rifle he had carried off the helicopter. “This is all I need.”

Hollis groaned and reached to his thigh holster. He pulled the Beretta 9mm and handed it to Hatcher. “Just in case.”

Hatcher slipped it into the back of his waistband and gave the man a curt nod. “The sooner I hit the trails, the sooner I’m back. As soon as I find a trail clear enough to drive through, I’ll be back.”

“And if they’re all blocked?” Hollis walked beside him as he exited the building and mounted the ATV.

“Then we’ll have to figure out something else.” Hatcher pulled his sunglasses on and revved the engine. “Either way, I’ll be back by dark. If something happens and I don’t make it back…don’t send your people out to find me. There’s no sense in losing more for a lost cause.”

Hollis stepped in front of the ATV, blocking him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“We’ve got little choice at this point, captain.” Hatcher glanced to the woods again. “It’s been long enough that the Zulus have either moved on or starved to death. I doubt I’ll run into anything out there that isn’t on four legs.”

Hollis raised a brow at the comment, but stepped aside. “Be safe, Ranger.”

Hatcher gave him a mock salute then kicked the ATV into gear. He tried not to throw dirt as he accelerated and disappeared into the thick woods.

Hollis watched him for a moment then glanced to the sky. “What I wouldn’t give for a drone right about now.”

Squirrel lifted the lid on the tank of the toilet and dipped the rag into the cool water. He squeezed out the excess and dragged the rag across his forehead, trying to wash away the grit, grime, and memories of Slug.

It didn’t work.

He pulled the sliding glass door open to his third-floor balcony and closed his eyes as the desert breezes blew fresh air into the stale room. He could still see Slug’s eyes wash over with blood and hear him scream just prior to the bullet making mush of his brains.

With a heavy sigh, he kicked off his boots and fell back onto the king-sized bed. He stared at the ceiling as the twilight grew dim. He could almost see designs form and dance across the ceiling as the wispy curtain liner bounced in the open doorway of the balcony. He stared at the dancing figures as the light slowly faded.

In the distance, he could hear the crazies warming up. Like coyotes in the distance, they barked and sang to other groups, letting them know they were there, standing vigil in the darkness. Warning others not to encroach on their territory, or perhaps calling to other crazies in some weird, ancient mating call.

Squirrel didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. He just wished they’d shut up.

He curled onto his side and closed his eyes, forcing the memorized photo of his wife to appear. He could see the outline of her jaw, the shape of her lips. He could almost see her hair blowing in the soft breeze before the photo was snapped. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost remember her voice.

Almost.

With a groan, he rolled from the bed and walked out to the balcony. He stared out into the darkness, wondering how far out the crazies were as he unzipped his leather biker pants and relieved himself through the wrought iron railing.

For the briefest of moments, he could almost imagine one of his crew, or even a few of the crazies below, dancing in the yellow rain. He almost cracked a smile at the thought.

Once finished, he leaned against the railing and stared toward the horizon. There had to be more than just this. There had to be. Of all of the creations in the universe, allowing humankind to die out because of an ancient bug? He shook his head in disbelief. What kind of God would allow the extinction of His greatest works because of a virus?

He pushed off the rail and fell back onto the bed. As he closed his eyes, he suddenly wondered, Who says we’re God’s greatest creation?

Maybe this damned bug that is killing us all off was His perfect creation. He recalled the panicked news reports when people first began getting infected. The hurried voices trying to explain each new discovery, hoping beyond hope that a cure could be found. He remembered the excited news casters explaining how the CDC and World Health Organization were working diligently to find a treatment, a cure, or a vaccine against the virus.

He also remembered his wife begging him to come home and stay. Or better yet, come home, pack their gear, and head for the mountains. Any place where people were scarce and they might could ride out the worst of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered telling her it couldn’t be as bad as the news stations reported. They always make things seem worse than they really are. That’s why the weather men invented a heat index to make it hotter outside. Or the chill index because cold just isn’t cold enough without the chill index. Or the numerous cases of flu outbreaks or rioters or any other bad thing that happened in the world, it had to be inflated to seem so much worse than it was.

He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt a tear run down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut again. He could see her bloody body laying across the dining room floor, her leg missing and most of her face chewed off. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t her, but her tattoo was visible. The torn heart just above her left breast with Roger in the middle. The perfect half to his matching tattoo with Cecile inked in it.

His hand absently rubbed the area and he stifled a sob. Why hadn’t he listened? Why couldn’t he have rushed to her side, even if to placate her?

He sat on the edge of the bed and clenched his jaw, his body wanting to scream, to hit something, to kick something, to punch something. He held his head in his hands and choked down the pain. He tuned out the ragers screaming outside and forced himself to breathe normally.

He hated when reality came back to kick him in the nuts, and tonight’s reality check was especially vivid. He blew his breath out again and walked back out to the balcony.

The cool night air brought the smell of rain and he stared above the horizon to see if he could spot the approaching storm. Nothing but stars were visible for as far as the eye could see.

He glanced down to the concrete patio below. For the briefest of moments, he could imagine allowing himself to simply slip over the edge. As long as he landed head first, odds were strong he’d be with Cecile. But he knew his luck. He’d end up broken or damaged, fully awake when the ragers began chewing on his parts.

He sat down on the balcony and stared through the wrought iron railings. It was going to be another one of those nights where the ghosts of the past wouldn’t let him sleep.

Dr. LaRue went from subject to subject, recording vitals and charting any changes she could find. She paused by a white male subject and gently raised his sleeping eyelid. She couldn’t be certain, but it almost appeared as though the redness of the eyes was beginning to dissipate. She marked her thoughts in the chart, then went to the next subject. A darker-skinned female breathed rapidly as her body tried to burn off the sedative they were filling her with, via the IV tubes.

Vivian checked her vitals and shook her head as she noted her condition. “The gene therapy isn’t taking.” She pulled her gloves off and tossed them into the waste bin.

“I would think it prudent to give it more time.” Her colleagues were always hoping for the best, but she was more of a pragmatist.

She sighed as she pulled the outer lab coat off.

“We used the same viral vectors as the virus itself. You’ve seen how rapidly it infects. I would expect similar results if it were going to work.”

He laid down his own clipboard and approached her. He instinctively checked before lowering his voice, “The subjects we used the gene therapy and secondary treatments on seem to show very promising results. Perhaps if we consider that the vaccines are weakening the virus’ ability to propagate through—”

She held a hand up, stopping him. “The subjects who just got the vaccine variants have the same promising results.” She shook her head. “I think we can scratch the reverse vector gene therapy from the list of possible curatives.”

He crossed his arms and gave her a tight-lipped stare. “I’m not ready to give up on the gene therapy just yet.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Charles, I realize you were the one who replaced the viral DNA in the therapeutic strain, but let’s face it, they aren’t taking. They aren’t overwriting the viral DNA in the host cells. Either something in the DNA that was removed somehow changed the capsid on the cell wall, or the DNA itself has a built-in biological firewall that prevents the replaced DNA from having its desired effect.”

He shook his head. “You know that gene therapy takes time.”

“And you’ve seen how quickly this virus replicates and infects the subjects. We’re talking seconds…not days.”

He huffed and turned his back on her. “I’m not counting it out just yet. You can choose to ignore that test subject if you like.”

“Charles, be reasonable.” She stopped herself short of calling him closed-minded. Instead, she counted to five and took a deep breath. “In order for the curative to be effective, it has to be a single dose that can work on its own. We can’t hospitalize 90% of the population and baby step our way through weeks of gene therapy.” She sighed dramatically. “It isn’t effective unless it’s a single shot, one and done, rapid realization.”

“Says who?” he demanded, spinning to face her again.

“Says the government.” She lowered her voice and pulled him aside. “They need something they can mass deploy. Yes, in some instances, once the grand majority of the population has been treated, we might be able to use your gene therapy in clinical theaters for…stubborn cases. But they need a nuke, not a precision instrument that is slow with results.”

“Your vaccines aren’t showing to be an instant cure.” He crossed his arms and gave her a smirk.

“I’m not claiming them to be. But it’s something that could be delivered via numerous vectors.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m counting out the gene therapy.”

“You can’t do that.” His eyes widened with surprise.

“I can, and I am.” She motioned with her head to one of the orderly techs. “Return her to the isolation ward and prepare her for reentry to the general population.”

Charles was nearly pleading as he followed her. “But what if it begins to take? What if she begins to show signs of remission? She’ll be in there with them and…”

“And if she shows any signs of improvement, we’ll remove her, and we’ll readdress the status of your gene therapy model. But until then…” she trailed off.

Charles hung his head and nodded. “I’ll…uh, look again and see if I can target a more effective strand of the viral DNA to replace.” He stood taller and squared his shoulders. “I still think it’s our best bet at a cure.”

She patted his arm. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

She watched him turn and begin stripping the protective layers from his body, then exit the ward. She almost felt sorry for him as he walked dejectedly into the next room to take his seat at his workstation.

She picked up her mask and a fresh set of gloves. “Back to the grindstone.”

“I can explain!” Henry held his hands up, hoping to stave off the verbal attack he knew was coming.

Candy’s eyes were wide as she stormed toward the truck. “What in the seven layers of Hell were you two thinking?” She stopped short of swinging at the pair. “I thought you were pulling the truck back out to the yards, and then I have to find out from one of the roof guards you came back for a second run?” Her eyes were filled with enough crazy for a dozen Zulus.

“It was my fault,” Henry groaned.

“Yeah, it was. Totally his fault,” Wally added, taking a half-step back. “I told him not to, but no, he wouldn’t hear of it, and when I—” He stopped short when he saw the anger in her face and the betrayal in Henry’s. “Well, I did tell you it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Henry Willis, we have enough from the first run to keep us running for at least a year, and possible two if we stay smart about it.” She shook her head. “What were you thinking?”

Henry inhaled deeply and glared at Wally. “I was thinking, that if there really were marauders out there, and if they happen upon this place…with what we left here, they could set up shop and never leave.”

Candy shrugged. “So?”

“So?” Henry appeared exasperated. “So? Really? You want them camped out right under our noses? I would think that the more of this we could get locked up behind our doors and unavailable to a raiding faction, the better for us.”

She shook her head and pointed to the setting sun. “Do you not see how late it is?”

“Yes, and we would have been on our way back had you not rolled up here like cops trying to catch the doughnut shop before it closed.”

“You’re not funny.” Candy bristled at his cop joke. Everyone knew she used to be a deputy sheriff before Hatcher moved her to New Mexico with a small handful of survivors from the initial attack. She turned and pointed to Wally. “And you!”

“Me?” Wally shook his head as he slowly backed away from her. “What did I do?”

“You should have known better. How could you let him talk you into such a hair-brained idea?”

Wally opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. He shook his head. “Candy, you know what Hank is like when he’s got an idea in his head.”

She ground her teeth and stomped her foot. “You two get this damned truck back to the warehouse before the sun sets, or so help me, you’ll be sleeping in it!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wally groaned. He shot Henry a withering look. “Load up.”

“Thanks for the support there, buddy.”

“We’re both in trouble because you can’t take no for an answer,” Wally mumbled as he turned and made his way to the cab.

Candy muttered to herself all the way back to the car and nearly pushed her driver back into position. “Get us out of here before the damned sun sets.”

As she began climbing into the vehicle, she could hear the first screams of the Zulus scattered across the town. She ground her teeth again, then slammed her door shut.

The little car pulled in front and made for the main road, the large truck lumbering slowly behind her. The car pulled onto the main road and began its zig-zag across town, the idea being that if the Zulus could sniff them out, they’d have to cover a lot more territory before finding them.

Candy continually watched the sun as it quickly faded from view and slipped behind the horizon. She feared being caught outside their gated community after dark. The Zulus were exponentially more active in the dark, and without night vision, they were nearly impossible to track.

She slapped at the dash board. “Hurry up.” She glanced out her side window and could almost swear that she saw Zulus darting from yard to yard trying to keep up with them.

“The truck is falling behind.”

“That’s their problem. Serves them right for…oh, shit!” She pointed ahead of them where three Zulus appeared in the middle of the street.

The driver slammed on the brakes and Candy nearly shrieked when the trio began running toward the car. “Back up! Back up! Do it now!” She pulled her pistol and leaned out of the passenger window.

The driver was trying to accelerate in reverse as the truck bore down on them. Candy began firing at the trio when the driver suddenly swerved, allowing the big truck to pass them on the left.

“Where the hell are they…,” Candy’s voice trailed off as she watched pieces of the Zulus explode from the front bumper and grill of the five-ton truck. “Follow them!”

The driver threw the transmission into DRIVE and floored the accelerator. The little car quickly caught up with the truck and occasionally bounced as pieces of the attacking Zulu appeared from under the truck.

“Jeezus, they’re everywhere!” the driver exclaimed as he swerved the compact car from one lane to the next trying to avoid body parts.

“Just stay on their bumper!” Candy pulled the radio from her belt. “Gate, this is Candy! Come in!”

“Go for gate guard.” The static filled reply was barely audible over the roar of the little engine and the scraping from beneath the car.

“Have a team ready at the gates! Hank and Wally are in the five-ton and we’re right behind them. Prepare to repel boarders!”

“Copy that.”

She turned and eyed her driver. “You’d better be ready to shoot through that gate, then lock it up before we eat Hank’s bumper. There’s barely room to fit both vehicles in that staging area, and to come in hot and have to stop short of the doors?” She shook her head.

“I’m ready.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and feathered the clutch on the little car.

Hank could catch glimpses of Candy’s headlights behind them when they’d swerve to miss a Zulu that had shot under the truck. He downshifted the transmission and floored the accelerator.

Wally leaned back in from the window and tossed his shotgun to the side. “I’m out.”

“We’re less than a block to the warehouse.” Henry fought the large steering wheel as he tried to slide the big truck around a corner. “I just hope they got somebody on the gates.”

Wally glanced in the rear mirror, then pointed to the gates swinging open ahead of them. “Candy must’ve called ’em.” He pushed back in his chair instinctively and braced a hand on the dash. “The inner doors are closed, Hank! You better BRAKE!”

Hank locked up the brakes and slid into the transition area, the truck sliding sideways slightly before the front bumper smashed into the reinforced metal doors of the warehouse foyer. He glanced to Wally who was picking himself up from the floorboard.

“Any landing you can walk away from, I say.” Hank shot him a toothy grin, then slammed into the steering wheel as the compact car Candy was in careened into the rear of the truck.

“Son of a…” Hank and Wally jumped down from the cab and watched as a team opened fire on a quickly approaching band of Zulus.

Candy’s car had struck the rear bumper of the truck and nearly bounced off. The driver was groaning as he crawled out of the car and Candy was cursing as she rubbed her chest where the seat belt had cinched her tight.

Wally pointed to the front end of the car where licks of flame began popping up between the ruined front end and the crumpled hood. “Fire!”

Hank grabbed the driver’s side pillar and began pushing it back through the chain link gate and toward the road. “Come on, dammit! Help me!”

Wally slid in between the block wall and the side of the car. He pushed on the passenger side pillar until the car had rolled back into the street and now acted as a flaming barricade between the humans and the Zulus.

Hank slipped in the gap of the closing chain link gate just as the roof watch started dropping Molotov cocktails on the approaching Zulus. “Serves ’em right,” Wally spat.

Hank turned and gave him a cheesy grin. “Told ya we’d make it back okay.”

Wally rolled his eyes, then turned toward the truck. “You get to unload this one.”

Chapter 14

Hatcher could see the rest of the trail leading to the top of the mountain in the quickly fading light and knew that this would be the path they took in the morning. He threw gravel as he spun the ATV around and headed back down the steep trail. The woods appeared even darker and shadows stretched across the narrow gap as he pushed the ATV even further.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he could almost feel the eyes of the infected following his path. He pushed the accelerator even harder and bent low behind the handlebars.

From the corners of his vision, he could make out figures darting from tree to tree. If they were screaming at each other, he couldn’t hear them over the engine as he roared across the rough terrain and toward the makeshift camp. He prayed that none decided to dart in front of him or he’d be sent flying. Since the good lord hadn’t see fit to gift him with wings, he was certain that any flights he attempted would end badly.

He took the curve on the trail a bit too quickly and felt the rear end of the ATV try to slide out from under him in the loose sand and pea gravel. He feathered the throttle and maintained his course, preventing a collision with a boulder that had once been at the top of the mountain.

He stiffened as his lights swung around and flashed on two of the Zulus darting out from cover and attempting to flank him. He goosed the accelerator again and shot between their haphazard gauntlet. He could have sworn that he felt fingers trying to gain purchase with the material of his jacket, but he quickly tossed the thought aside. Another steep curve was directly in his path and this one led to a steep drop in the trail.

He pushed the throttle wide open and tried to put as much space between him and any pursuers, then locked up the rear brake as he approached the curve. The little ATV tried to spin out from under him, but Hatcher locked the handle bars in a hard left and shot over the edge of the outcrop as if shot from a canon.

He felt that tingly feeling in his guts as he realized just how much air he had caught and prayed that the ATV wouldn’t flip before his tires touched ground again. He found time slowing down and he leaned as far back as he could, trying to keep the nose of the machine up.

He didn’t register the back tires sliding through the loose gravel, but he certainly felt it when the front tires hit and the suspension bottomed out. It took everything he had to maintain control of the machine as it slid down the hill at a dangerous speed.

The headlights bounced across the terrain as the ATV found every divot, hole, rock, or branch in its path. Hatcher gripped the handlebars as tight as he could and almost let off the throttle when he recognized the two enormous pines that framed the exit of the path near the Visitors Center.

He was less than a half-mile from camp, but it was a steep and dangerous half-mile, engulfed by a thick stand of old growth forest. Hatcher could still see the occasional Zulu dart between trees…or was it his imagination playing with him in the darkness? Reflections from the headlights? Whatever it was, it had his sphincter tightened and he was too close to safety to risk double checking.

He mashed the HORN button and nearly groaned at the weak little scratchy noise it made. He had hoped to alert the sentries of his rapid approach and perhaps prepare the shooters for visitors. He doubted they could hear the pitiful sound that reminded Daniel of a sick goat.

He let off the accelerator for a deep impression in the trail and nearly went airborne again when he came up the other side of the bowl-shaped depression. He fought the handlebars and switched between feathering the throttle and applying the rear brakes in the loose gravel until the twin pines shot by on either side.

Like a race car driver who has crossed the finish line, Hatcher released the throttle and relaxed his grip on the handlebars until the machine burst from the low undergrowth and slid down the sandy embankment to the parking lot in front of the Center.

He goosed the throttle once more, then slid to a stop near a Humvee. The sentries and other available personnel emerged from the shadows and Hatcher killed the engine. He pointed to where he’d come from. “We’re about to have company.”

He slid off the ATV and pulled the M4 from around his back. He hunkered low next to the ATV and rested the barrel across the back of the small bed. The heat from the engine caused him to break into a sweat and the ticking from the cooling machine overpowered his hearing. He groaned as he kept the barrel of the rifle trained on his exit point and moved to the rear of the slant-back Humvee.

Hollis settled in next to him and Hatcher heard the click-whir of nightvision goggles being activated.
“They’re on your tail?”

Hatcher didn’t know why he was out of breath. The machine did all the work getting him up and down the mountain, but he had to forcibly slow his breathing. “Yeah.” He stared through the scope and waited, expecting a small army to burst from the darkness at any moment. “At least, I think they were there.”

Hollis cautioned a quick glance to the shorter man. “You think?”

“I know at least two tried to pull me from the machine. But I kept seeing things in my peripheral vision…I can’t be sure if they were real or imagined.”

Hollis nodded and retrained his attention down range. “And if they weren’t imagination, how strong are they?”

Hatcher shook his head slightly. “Maybe a couple dozen.” He swallowed hard and realized his mouth was dry. “Could be less. Could be a lot more.”

Hollis exhaled hard and slowly turned his head, hoping to see something other than dark colors in the IR range. “Stay frosty, fellas. We could be in for a real shit storm.”

Hatcher opened his mouth to tell him that the trail was clear enough to travel when a series of screams shattered the quiet of the night. Like a symphony of fingernails across a chalkboard, Hatcher felt his skin crawl as the screams echoed…or were they return screams?

He turned slowly to Hollis. “That don’t sound so good.”

One of the sentries ran back and slid in next to Hollis. “Sir, we have movement behind that low growth.” His hand pointed to the trail that Hatcher had made with the ATV.

Sounds of cracking limbs and snapping twigs seemed amplified in the still night air. Hollis felt his blood run cold as a line of Zeds slowly appeared, their bodies appearing nearly white in his goggles from their feverish condition. “We got company, ladies!”

Squirrel awoke with a start and his hand gripped the wrought iron railing of the balcony. He glanced around at his surroundings and it took a moment for his memory to kick in.

The cool night air had chilled him, and he pulled himself to his feet. His body felt achey and crusted with the day’s ride. He walked stiffly into his room and peeled his clothing off. The leather jacket and pants were draped over the end of the bed and he began peeling the sweat-stained underlayers off as he made his way to the bathroom.

He grabbed the rag again and soaked it in the tank water then squeezed it out. He ran the cool rag over the back of his neck and face before scrubbing at the rest of his body. He saved the worst parts for last and double-rinsed the rag when he was done. Even in the soft glow of the moonlight, he could see stains on the white hotel hand towel that he didn’t think he wanted to know the source.

“If you’re gonna wait weeks to bathe, don’t question where the dirt came from.” He tossed the rag into the waste basket, then hung his clothes on the hangers to air out.

He walked back out to the balcony and stood in the still night air. Bathed in moonlight, nude and chilled as the water quickly evaporated from his body, he stared at the distance.

“I should leave and head west.” He had replayed this argument a dozen times in his head. He knew that getting away from Simon wasn’t the problem. It was staying away from others like him. And the ragers.

Squirrel scanned the horizon and did a double take. In the darkness, things were difficult to make out, but he stared to the south and could almost swear he saw…a shadow on the horizon. He squinted in the moonlight then ran back to his room.

He dug through his duffle and found a pair of binoculars. He stepped back out to the balcony and tried to focus on the terrain, patiently adjusting the glasses until he verified what he’d seen.

Smoke.

He stared at the dark column that rose up and formed a small dark cloud on an almost pitch-black sky. If it weren’t for the nearly full moon, he’d have never seen it. He slowly lowered the glasses and continued to stare in the same direction.

“Looks like we’re heading south in the morning.”

Dr. LaRue peeled her gloves off and practically fell into her chair. She reached for her coffee and her face puckered at the cold liquid. “I’ve got to stop losing myself in this project.”

She pushed herself slowly from the chair and dumped the cup in the sink. She didn’t bother to rinse the cup before filling it again with fresher, hot coffee. She sat down gingerly and let a low sigh escape.

She closed her eyes for a moment and was startled awake by a commotion in the lab. She reached for the coffee again as she stood up and was surprised that this cup was cold as well.

How long was I out?

She pushed into the lab to find a flurry of activity. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“One of the orderlies!” Dr. Francis yelled as she tried to hold a man down.

“What happened to him?” Vivian pushed into the lab and saw three coworkers holding down a young man, his eyes blood-red and his mouth beginning to foam.

“How did this happen?” Vivian pushed a gurney near them and the four wrestled the man down and strapped him to the wheeled bed.

Dr. Frances practically fell against the counter and blew out a heavy breath. “I have no idea. One minute he was doing his duties, the next minute, he complained of a bad headache, then…this.” She pointed to the man thrashing on the gurney. “I have no idea how he might have gotten exposed.”

Vivian felt her skin grow cold as the fear of the virus becoming transmittable through the air seized her. “Level three protocols! Now!” She ran to the nearest locker and ripped the door open. Each of her coworkers scrambled to find the rubber suits with air filtration systems.

She could feel her hands trembling as she fumbled with the suit and for a moment feared that she was going into a full-blown panic.

“Wait a moment.”

She turned and saw Charles standing over the orderly. He pulled the man’s scrubs to the side and a bloody scratch was visible near his navel. “This shouldn’t be here.” He gave Vivian a stern look. “Something tells me that he was less than forthcoming with some sort of incident.”

Vivian sighed, but left the rubber pants cinched at her waist. She walked slowly toward the orderly and peered at the spot that Charles had seen. “We can’t be certain that’s the source of—”

“Occam’s razor, doctor.” Charles motioned toward the empty air. “Which would make the more probable assumption? That the blood-borne virus suddenly mutated and this fellow was the first to feel its wrath, or that he screwed the pooch and allowed himself to be scratched somehow?”

Vivian sighed and nodded slowly. “I still want to know how this could have happened.”

One of the orderlies raised his hand. “There are security cameras all over. Surely…”

Vivian nodded. “Find the Master at Arms, check the footage. I need to know if this scratch came from an infected.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The orderly slipped out and Vivian turned to the others. “I still think that we should maintain level three protocols until we know for certain.”

Charles groaned. “You know how bad those suits are, Viv. I sweat like a pig in those damned things.”

“We all do, Charles.” She walked back to the locker and picked up the tunic. “But I’d rather be safe and wrong than right and dead.”

He dropped the man’s scrubs and nodded. “Agreed. Level three people. Come on, move!”

She pulled the helmet over her head and affixed the air hose. She could feel the temperature already rising inside the suit and prayed that the orderly returned quickly with a definitive answer.

Candy limped into the warehouse and fell into a chair. It hurt to bend over, but her leg was throbbing from the car accident. She didn’t think she’d caused any real damage, but Vicky was already poking and prodding at her.

“I’m fine, Vick. Really.” She tried to push their resident nurse away. “I’m more worried that some of the people trying to hold back the Zulus will need your help a lot more than I do.”

“They might, but right now, you’re my only patient.” She gave her a quick smile. “Now be nice and cooperative and when we’re done, Nurse Vicky will give you a lollipop.”

“You’re not funny.”

Vicky found the sore spot and Candy winced. “I’m betting there’s a real nice contusion under those pants. But it looks like it’s only soft tissue damage. I doubt seriously there’s any broken bones or you wouldn’t have walked in here.”

“I wouldn’t call it a walk. More like a hobble.” She gave Vicky a quirky grin. “Now seriously, get to the infirmary and prepare for wounded. Those sumbitches are throwing rocks now.” She stood up slowly and leaned against the wall. “The way their behavior is evolving, I give them a month and they’ll invent their own guns.”

Vicky found herself being gently pushed toward the infirmary and fought the urge to argue. “I’ll be back to check on you when this is over.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Candy turned slowly back toward the door. “We need reinforcements on the roof. Tell them to bring more flammables. We have to keep the Zulus away from the fences. There’s too many for that fence to hold.”

“I can get sharpshooters up there.” Dennis wasn’t much to look at, but he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Candy knew that by sharpshooters, he meant himself. The man could drill a hole through the center of a nickel at 100 yards with open sights.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. I’m hoping the fires will change their focus.”

“Consider it done.” He turned and disappeared into the darkened hallway. Candy sighed heavily and hobbled toward the door leading back out to the staging area. She pulled the door open and found the better part of her fighting force slowly making their way into the warehouse.

“What’s happening?” She tried not to sound too concerned, as her people seemed more tired than excited.

Wally looked up and gave her an exhausted glance. “They’re retreating. No idea why, but the rooftop teams said that even the Zulus headed toward us suddenly turned and disappeared the way they came.” He gave her a confused look. “It was almost as though somebody directed them.”

She stared at the man, waiting for him to add to the story, but he either wouldn’t or couldn’t. “I have to see this myself.” She turned and headed for the ladder leading to the rooftop.

“You’re wasting your time.” She looked up to see one of the rooftop members climbing down. “It’s like he said. They just turned tail and took off.” He hooked a thumb back toward the ceiling. “There’s three sentries up there now making sure they stay gone.”

Candy paused and stared at the man. “Any indication as to what caused them to…retreat?”

He hopped from the bottom rung to the concrete floor and lowered his shoulder pack to the ground. “No idea, boss. They just all suddenly stiffened, looked back the way they came, then took off. Like a silent dog whistle or something.” He rifled through the pack and pulled out three Molotov cocktails. “We were ready to light them up and they just bailed. Damndest thing I ever saw.”

Candy stepped out of the way of the team as they walked by her. She heard grumblings like, That was too easy, or I can’t believe they bailed like that or similar remarks as the men emptied their weapons and began putting away their gear.

She limped out to the staging area and to the gates. Two men were wrapping extra chain around the ten-foot-tall cyclone gates as she approached. “Any bodies to clear?”

Both men turned and shook their heads. “I think a few were wounded, but if there were any dead, they took them with them. Streets are clear, except for the Civic and a few random fuel fires.”

The taller of the men slapped his hands together and nodded with his chin. “The fuel fires from the Molotovs are burning themselves out. No other fuel nearby, so we just left them.”

She nodded slowly and peered at the little Honda Civic burning across the street. She sighed heavily, then turned to join them back inside. “First thing in the morning, clear the roads. I want to send runners out to see if any of them are watching us.”

“I’ll see to it,” the shorter man said. “I have first watch, anyway.”

Candy stepped through the now-dented heavy steel doors and cast a quick glance back at the burning car. She had to have a word with Henry Willis and make sure this kind of crap didn’t happen again.

Chapter 15

Hatcher rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn. He glanced toward the east and saw the horizon slowly fading to orange. “Why didn’t they attack?”

Hollis had previously slipped the night vision goggles off and they now hung useless from his neck. “I have no idea.” He pointed along the embankment where they had staged only hours earlier. “There were at least a dozen all along that tree line, but they never advanced.”

Hatcher turned around and slumped to the ground. “I’m too tired for crazy games. If they were going to attack, they should just do it and get it over with.” He yawned hard and laid the rifle across his lap. “I think I’d welcome the long sleep of death right about now.”

“With your luck, they’d just infect you and you’d never sleep again.” Hollis shifted his weight and continued to stare at the tree line.

Hatcher turned and gave him a confused stare. “They don’t sleep?”

Hollis shook his head slowly. “Not that I’ve witnessed.” He sighed heavily and glanced toward the rising sun. “The only time I’ve seen them even wind down was when we had the sonic generator on them. They acted like bored humans, but they never actually laid down and slept. I watched a couple of them close their eyes and sway slowly under the generator, but it didn’t look like sleep. Just…a break from pain.”

Hatcher scratched at his chin and considered his words. “I wonder how they function without sleep? I mean…everything alive needs to sleep, right?”

Hollis shrugged. “Maybe they catch cat naps that I didn’t witness. I honestly don’t know, and right now, I couldn’t possibly care any less.”

He slowly came to his feet and made a low whistle. His men rose from their positions and closed on him. “I know that nobody slept, but there will be plenty of time for that on the trip home. I want everybody packed and ready to go in twenty. Grab a bite, drop a deuce, whatever you gotta do, but we’re on the trail to grab the goo and then we’re outta here.”

There was a round of yes, sir and roger that and other affirmations as the men broke up and began packing the Humvees.

“So much for making camp at the Visitors Center.” Hatcher stretched and barely caught the MRE that Hollis threw at him.

“There’s instant coffee in there. I suggest you get as much caffeine in your system as you can. It could get ugly out there.”

Hatcher used his teeth to rip open the plastic bag and rifled through the contents. He pulled a small plastic bag out with the condiments and ripped it open. He pulled open the packet of instant coffee and poured it directly into his mouth, then washed it down with water from his canteen. “That was gross.”

He pulled another packet labeled pilot bread and ripped it open. Little more than hard tack, he chewed on it as the others went about their business. He slipped the rest of the MRE into his satchel and climbed aboard the truck. Once he was inside, he leaned back and tried not to close his eyes. He could feel the caffeine do its job as the truck pulled to the front of the line.

“Which way?” Hollis asked.

“Right through that small stand of bush. Between those two large pines.”

The driver pulled ahead and plunged through the brush. Hatcher pointed to the trail that was little more than a worn path climbing up the mountain and the driver made for it. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched as the wide Humvee following them emerged from the dark growth like a large metal dinosaur. He felt a certain amount of satisfaction they had reinforcements for this journey.

The large, lumbering truck bit and clawed its way up the mountain, sending small rocks and debris flying as the large wheels tried to find purchase in the loose rock and sand. All eyes were on the tree line, praying that those who held them at bay last night had disappeared deeper into the woods and wouldn’t make an appearance.

Hatcher thought about their behavior and shook his head. “Have you ever heard of a Zulu not attacking before?”

Hollis shrugged. “My interaction with them is rather limited.”

“What about before? You know, when this whole thing first started.” Hatcher turned to look at him.

Hollis shook his head. “I was on a mission at the time. I really didn’t see much action against the Zeds.”

Hatcher gave him a confused look. “Zed?”

“Military jargon for ‘Z’. You know…zombie.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’s why we call them Zulus.”

Hollis nodded, not really paying attention. “I assumed as much.”

The driver looked to Hatcher. “Aren’t real zombies supposed to be dead, though? Why call the infected a zombie?”

Hatcher shrugged. “I didn’t start it. Somebody else did.” He stretched his neck and continued to watch the trees. “What else would you call them? I’ve seen some zombie movies where the infected were called zombies.”

“I’d just call them infected. I mean, they aren’t dead, so—”

“Mind your duties, soldier,” Hollis barked. “You can discuss proper labels once the mission is complete.”

The young soldier nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Hatcher gave Hollis a dirty look. “No need to bark at the boy. We were just making conversation.”

Hollis pointed forward through the windshield just as the driver slowed the truck. “Tell me that wasn’t there last night.”

Hatcher spun around and felt his stomach tighten. Two more large trees laid across the path, blocking them from ascending any farther.

“No. They weren’t.”

The truck eased to a stop and Hollis stepped out, weapon ready. “Eyes on the tree line, boys. Let’s get those logs moved and do what needs doing so we can go home.”

Hatcher leveled his rifle on the trees and began making a slow broad sweep of the area. His sleep-deprived mind kept forming moving shapes in the shadows. He tried to force himself to be more alert and almost wished he had more of that powdered coffee.

“Contact!” one of the men shouted behind Hatcher.

“Don’t shoot!” the lone figure shouted.

Hatcher froze in place, his eyes wide as a dirty and haggard appearing figure stepped from the trees, a long stick in one hand.

He stood slowly and took a step toward the filthy man. “Do I know you?”

The figure nodded slowly. “It’s been a little while, but yeah.”

Hatcher stepped forward and one of the soldiers tried to reach for him. “Sir! I wouldn’t do that.”

Hatcher shook him off. “He’s obviously not infected.” He took another step toward the figure. “But how?”

“That’s a long story, Ranger.” The figure stepped closer and Hatcher could make out his features.

“I do remember you. You were that kid…the one that Skeeter was with.”

Buck Jennings stiffened at the name. “Tell me she’s okay.”

“Yeah, kid.” Hatcher broke into a wide grin. “She’s just fine.”

“Who’s your friend, Hatcher?” Hollis asked, his rifle still trained on Buck.

“This is Buck.” Hatcher turned and held his hands up, urging the others to lower their weapons. “He’s no threat.”

Buck stepped alongside Hatcher and lowered his voice. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

Squirrel stepped into the lobby and found his remaining crew standing just outside the door. They turned and faced him as he stepped into the early morning air. “We still scrounging through convenience stores today, boss?”

Squirrel shook his head. “Last night I spotted smoke. To the south.” He pointed in the general direction. “It could be nothing. But it could be something. Today we ride south and see what we can find.”

The men nodded and mounted their motorcycles. None offered to bury Slug, and few even thought of the man other than the smell that was starting to permeate the lobby.

“It couldn’t have been too far.” Squirrel added as he fired the Indian to life. “Unless it was a huge fire, or somebody decided to burn tires to keep warm, it couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen miles.”

The five motorcycles pulled out of town and he pointed to the road sign directing them toward Bernalillo, Corrales, and Rio Rancho. He pulled to a stop and pointed to the first two. “You two check out Bernalillo. You two check Corrales. I’ll go ahead to Rio Rancho. No raiding, no searching for supplies. Just look for signs of that fire and then radio me. Whoever finds it first, we’ll all meet up with them and check it out together. Got it?”

They all nodded or gave a thumbs up. Squirrel kicked the Indian into gear and accelerated back onto the road. He took the lead and opened the Indian up. It didn’t matter if he pulled away from the others. He had farther to go and was doing his part alone. He almost hoped that the others would discover the source of the smoke and it would be something stupid. A lightning strike or some lone survivor who burned a house full of ragers…something that didn’t warrant bringing in Simon. Something that precluded laying siege to a group of survivors with the cajones to take a military truck on the highway to visit grandma.

He tried to empty his mind and enjoy the ride, but all that he could think of was their group pillaging and destroying what somebody else had built.

Maybe it was time he pointed the Indian west…just keep traveling until there was nothing but open ocean before him. He knew he could pull it off.

He could make it.

But then what? Fight to scratch out a survival on one of the most densely populated coastlines? Well, previously most populated. Today, perhaps not so much. At least, not with people. Ragers, for sure, but definitely not people. The West Coast was the first to get hit hard and the news seemed to take great joy in showing all of the people in California being attacked by their friends and neighbors. It seemed to take a few days before the news agencies realized, this wasn’t some huge joke. By the time they took the reports seriously, it was too late. The virus had spread and was quickly becoming a global phenomenon.

Squirrel’s mind wandered until the sign for Rio Rancho caught his attention. He took a hard right and headed toward uncertainty. The odds were slim that the smoke had come from this far away, and even slimmer he’d discover the source, but it got him away from the others and gave him a chance to feel the road beneath him, away from the pressures of being trapped in a group of thugs and criminals.

Away from being a trusted and high-ranking member of the thugs and criminals.

He sighed heavily as he saw the outskirts of town appear before him. “City of Vision, huh?”

He slowed the bike and tried to take in the remains of Rio Rancho. At first glance, it was just another sleepy desert town. Adobe buildings everywhere. Trash and debris scattered across yards and blowing across the road in front of him.

“This town is a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” he muttered as he continued driving.

He thought he caught the faint scent of smoke and slowed the bike. He glanced from side to side, hoping to see something that pointed out the source. It didn’t smell like a campfire. It was different…almost chemical. For a moment, his mind returned to when he was a rookie with the Sheriff’s Department. He had been called out to work a traffic accident with the municipal police. One of the cars had caught fire and…the small whiffs of smoke that he caught reminded him of that.

“Somebody burn a tire?” He goosed the bike and continued down the main highway that dissected the town. He scanned for any signs of smoke or fire. Nothing stood out, although there appeared to be a haze hanging over the city.

He pulled to the side of the road and shut the engine off. He stepped off the bike and looked around. He licked his finger and held it in the air. There wasn’t a breeze to be found. If the fire had occurred here, it would stand to reason that the haze was the result.

But where?

The mountains that bordered the town didn’t appear that far away, but he knew that looks were deceiving. He would no sooner be able to locate the source of the fire from a mountain vantage point as he would if he simply drove street by street.

He groaned to himself and mounted his bike again. “Street by street it is then.” He fired the Indian up again and pulled out slowly, sniffing the air as he rode.

Vivian held back the urge to vomit. The orderly waited patiently behind her while she reviewed the video stream herself.

“There’s more, ma’am, but…I think you can see for yourself what happened.”

She swallowed hard and closed the lid on the laptop. “Tell the lab members to stand down from Level Three Protocols.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The orderly reached for the laptop and she held her arm out to stop him.

“No, I’m going to hold on to this for a while longer.”

“Ma’am?”

“I think we need to reiterate to those working in the lab the dangers of…of our subjects.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The orderly stepped away and Vivian watched him enter the lab. A moment later the personnel under her command began stripping the bright yellow rubber suits off.

She sat back in her chair and tried not to remember what her eyes had seen. The orderly had removed the gene therapy subject and placed her in the holding ward. While there, he took it upon himself to inject the subject with a high dose of anesthesia and then decided to have carnal relations with the test subject.

During the act, the test subject awoke, her high metabolism having burned through the anesthesia. She then began thrashing, and in his haste to climb off her, she was able to drag a nail across his midsection.

“Of all the ways to get infected!” She threw a coffee cup across the room and took little satisfaction in it shattering.

She stood and peeled the rest of the chicken suit from her form, then marched into the lab. She tried to take a moment to calm down and failed miserably.

After a stern lecture, it was decided that no one person would be allowed to be alone with any of the test subjects. Regardless of intent, if anybody accidentally became exposed, there needed to be somebody on hand to report it to the others.

She couldn’t understand how anybody could be so depraved and in the very next minute walk back into their work station as though nothing had happened. She knew the infected operated almost entirely from the ID, or possibly the reptilian portion of the brain, but an uninfected human? The depths that humanity could stoop still amazed her.

Charles had to add his two cents. “Seriously, Vivian. We’re all adults here. We’ve worked unsupervised for so—”

“This is nonnegotiable. If for no other reason, to protect the rest of us.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I have no doubts that the researchers in this group are more than professional. And I don’t believe that all of our orderlies or interns are capable of such…depravity. However, and more importantly, in the event of an accidental exposure, we have to have a secondary person available who can inform the rest of us and possibly isolate the infected before it can spread.”

“I can’t believe this should apply to all of us, though.” Charles countered.

“It does, and it will.” She squared her shoulders and looked each of them in the eye as she spoke. “You saw how quickly this spread in the world. Now imagine if it broke out here. On a ship this small? There would be no survivors.”

Charles swallowed his retort and nodded. “Point taken.”

The door burst open and Jason stepped in, eyes wide. “Doc! You need to check on Bren. Something ain’t right.”

Henry pushed at the burned out Civic, then surrendered. “Why do we have to do this?”

Wally gave him a duh stare. “Why do you think? She holds us responsible for everything that happened last night.”

Henry sighed and leaned against the still-smoldering remains. “This thing ain’t gonna roll. We’re gonna have to tow it.”

Wally kicked at the wheels, steel wire wrapped around each from the remains of the tires. “We’re gonna need something big if we’re pushing this thing. I think it even melted some of the asphalt under it.”

“Whodathunk that such a little car could leave such a huge mess.” He sighed, then pushed off the blackened hulk. “I’ll get the truck.”

“You better make sure Candy gives her okay.”

Henry turned and gave him a dirty look. “She said to clear the road. We need the truck to haul this junker off. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Last time you drove the truck you dented the doors to the warehouse.” Wally was beginning to enjoy busting Henry’s nuts.

“Trying to escape from the Zulus!” He paused and gave Wally a smirk. “I guess I should have just kicked you out of the cab about a block away, so they’d have a snack and leave the rest of us alone.”

“Ha-ha-ha. You’re not funny.”

“Shut up and get the gate, will ya?” Henry pushed the other side of the gate open, then climbed aboard the large truck. He started the engine and pulled it carefully past the dead Honda. He backed it up slowly while Wally directed him back.

Once in position, the two men connected a chain to the remains of the Honda and pulled the slack out of the chain.

“You gonna steer the Honda?” Henry asked.

“You wrecked it. You steer it and I’ll drive the truck.”

“I didn’t wreck it! Candy did.”

Wally shot him a crooked grin. “You gonna try to make her steer it then?”

“Shut up and get in the cab. With any luck the steering wheel is locked, and we can just drag the damned thing down the road and dump it in an empty lot or something.”

Wally shook his head as he climbed up into the cab. “I’ll watch this side.”

“Yeah and I’ll watch this one.” He put the truck into gear and let the clutch out slowly. It began rolling forward with such ease that he feared the chain had come loose. He was about to stop and check when the little Honda eased into view of his side mirror.

“Keep an eye open for a good place to dump her.” Henry continued to ease the truck down the road, praying that the bare wheels didn’t destroy the pavement as the wheels tried to bite into the asphalt.

“Up there.” Wally pointed to an abandoned gas station. “There’s enough clearance we should be able to pull under the cover and drop it right by the pumps.”

Henry nodded. He knew for a fact they had already siphoned almost all of the fuel from the underground tanks. The Civic wouldn’t hinder them from pumping what little remained since the tank accesses were on the other side of the building.

He pulled the truck across the concrete parking area and watched the little Honda hop up and over the curb, tugging slightly as it skewed closer to the pumps. He continued pulling the burned-out car until it sat almost directly in front of the pumps, then slowly backed the truck up.

“Let’s grab the chain and get back before any of the Zulus decide to see what the fuss is about.” Henry slid from the cab and began unhooking the chain.

Wally reached for his arm and stopped him. “Do you hear that?”

Henry gave him a confused look. “Hear what?”

“It sounds like an engine.” He leaned from behind the truck and stared down the road. “Like a motorcycle. Maybe a Harley?”

Henry shook his head until the distinctive roar of a V-Twin engine could be heard echoing through the streets.

He turned and gave Wally a wide-eyed stare. “You think it’s the marauders?”

Wally shrugged. “I only hear one.”

Henry hurriedly wrapped the chain into a loop and tossed it into the back of the truck. “We need to get the hell out of here.” He ran for the cab and climbed up into the seat.

Wally reached for his hand just as he grabbed the keys. “There!”

The pair stared down the street and saw a lone rider slowly approaching, his head slowly turning, scanning the area.

“Fuck me.” Henry bent low in the cab and reached to pull Wally down beside him. “Maybe if he doesn’t see us, he’ll think the truck is abandoned.”

Wally was practically in the floor of the truck as the motorcycle slowed, the driver revving the engine as he pulled into the gas station.

“Tell me he didn’t see us.” Henry whispered.

Wally’s eyes were wide, but he shook his head. His hand slowly reached up and pushed the lock button on the doors just as the engine on the motorcycle died.

The two men sat in the cab of the truck and realized just how warm it got in the early mornings of New Mexico when locked in a sealed truck with the windows rolled up.

Henry waited a few moments, then slowly peered over the steering wheel. He saw the lone biker as he sifted through things in the gas station. He went through the repair shop and lifted a couple of gas cans, shook them, then tossed them aside.

“I think he’s looking for fuel,” Henry whispered.

Wally’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he’d try to siphon ours, do you?”

Henry gave him a duh stare. “This is diesel. It won’t work in his Harley.”

Wally groaned and tried to melt his large form farther into the floorboards of truck. “I hope he knows this is a diesel.”

Henry peered over the steering wheel again and watched as the man walked past the truck. A moment later he heard the sounds of somebody trying the lever on the fuel pump. He smiled to himself. Even if there was gas, you’d need electricity to run the pump. This biker must be stupid.

He heard the side tank of the truck’s fuel tank being messed with and he could imagine the biker unscrewing the cap and sniffing the fuel. ‘Nope, not it.’ Then moving on.

Henry jumped as a knock on the window above him snapped him from his thoughts and Wally gave a sharp shriek.

“Dude. You got any gas?”

Henry leaned up slowly and gave him a frightened smile. He shook his head rapidly. “Nope. Sorry. Only diesel.”

The wild-looking biker was unshaven and his hair looked like he’d been through a wind tunnel. The man pulled his sunglasses down and nodded to Wally. “Why don’t you two step out.”

“No thanks. We’re good,” Henry replied and gave him a quick wave. He saw the huge barrel of the 10mm pistol flash in the window and nearly wet himself. “Oh! Sorry…I didn’t hear you say please.”

The biker smiled and leaned closer to the window. “Please…step down from there.”

Henry swallowed hard and nodded, his hand reaching for the door latch.

Chapter 16

“You two can catch up in the truck.” Hollis lowered his face to peer over his sunglasses. “You do intend to go along, don’t you?”

Buck shrugged. “Nothing better to do.” He followed Hatcher, who climbed into the rear of the Humvee. Buck climbed in the other side and the group was moving again, slowly inching their way up the mountain.

“How did you survive out here, kis?” Hatcher was turned and facing him as they travelled.

Buck shook his head slowly. “The current carried me quite a ways down the mountain, but I found myself on the bank when the volcano blew the top off the mountain. The sky was dark for days and lucky for me, most of the big chunks were closer to the blast.”

“It was a bomb, not the volcano,” Hatcher corrected.

Buck gave him a wide-eyed stare. “That must have been one hell of a bomb.” The military men in the truck added nothing so he continued. “Anyway, I learned quickly how to blend in. I covered myself with mud and leaves, used the trees for cover. I made my way back to the RV but…it was pretty much useless.” He shuddered involuntarily at the reminder of finding his sister dead in the back. “I couldn’t find my dad. Somebody shot my sister. I knew I was alone and the exits were blocked by some pretty big rocks.”

“Why in the hell did you stay here?” Hatcher asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the teenager surviving these long weeks alone.

“I kept thinking that somebody would have to come back. I mean, eventually.” He shrugged and gave Hatcher a forlorn smile. “I really thought somebody would have to collect the dead. That they’d come here to figure out what the hell happened.”

“So you’ve been waiting this whole time?”

“Surviving.” Buck’s voice was barely a whisper. “I learned to trap small animals. I’ve watched the zombies break into small groups. They really have a pack mentality. Not unlike the wolves.”

Hollis turned around in the front seat to eye him. “So, there’s a pack leader?”

Buck nodded. “Oh, yeah. And every once in a while, two packs will butt heads and the alphas will go at it. Whoever wins gets the other guy’s pack.”

“And the other alpha?” Hollis asked.

“They usually eat whatever is left of him.” Buck deadpanned.

“They’re cannibals?” Hatcher asked.

Buck nodded. “They are now. Not at first. But then they hunted this area almost completely out of wildlife.”

Hatcher watched him and noted how thin the boy was. His arms look like leather wrapped over sinew and muscle. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the remains of the MRE and handed it to Buck.

“Thanks.” Buck ripped into the plastic packages and inhaled the food, barely chewing before swallowing.

“Slow down, buddy. This isn’t a race.” Hatcher gave him a crooked smile.

“Sorry.” Buck wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m so used to just swallowing it and praying it stays down. You have to be on guard all of the time out there.”

“Where have you been staying, kid?” Hollis asked.

“Here and there. Wherever seemed safe at the time.” His eyes became distant as he recalled the first nights alone. “I tried staying in the RV. The smell was horrendous, even after I buried Keri.” He swallowed hard and seemed to snap back to the present. “I found a couple of different rock outcrops that I could fit under. I used what little leaves I could scrounge to insulate me from the ground and used them to cover with so I wouldn’t be seen.” He shrugged. “A lot of times I cinched myself as high into a tree as I could and slept there. Usually during the day, though. Nights are when they’re most active.”

Hatcher opened his mouth to ask another question when Buck leaned forward and raised his voice. “So why are you guys here?” His gaze bounced from Hollis to Hatcher then back again.

Hatcher answered, “They’re working on a cure. The virus that spread out has mutated and they need the original strain.”

Buck gave him a confused stare. “Cure?” He thought of his mom, Keri…could they have maybe been saved?

Hollis kept his face forward, but raised his voice to be heard over the big diesel engine. “Yeah, kid. This virus went global. Took out the majority of the people on the planet. We’re hoping to save what’s left.”

“What’s left? So, you’re not trying to cure those who are already infected?”

Hollis shrugged. “If we find a cure for them, yay. If not, we’re definitely trying to save who’s left.”

Buck fell back in his seat and stared out the window. “So, the majority of the world is infected, but screw them, we’re just going to save who’s left?”

“Pretty much.” Hollis pointed to a narrow gap between two boulders up ahead. “We can fit. It’s not as steep as going around.”

Buck looked to Hatcher who seemed as surprised as Buck was. “I thought we were getting this crap to make a cure for everybody.”

Buck sighed and shook his head. “I doubt the infected could be saved now, anyway.”

His comment caught Hatcher’s attention. “Why do you say that?”

“I think they’re brain damaged.” He shrugged. “Judging by their actions, there’s nothing left of who they were, anyway. It’s all basic stuff. Eat, shit, sex, and destroy.”

“Sounds like they’re still human to me.” Hollis responded sarcastically. “Add in a little greed and you’d never know they were sick.”

Buck gave him a dirty look, but Hollis never turned around to notice.

Hatcher reached over and took Buck’s arm. “Do you have any family that we could check with? Grandparents? Aunt or uncle?”

Buck nodded. “I have an uncle, but I haven’t spoken to him in a long time. He was my dad’s brother. He was some big shot. More money than brains, if you know what I mean.”

“I know the type.”

“I have no idea if he would have made it through all of this.” Buck turned to Hatcher and lowered his voice. “What’s it like out there? In the rest of the world, I mean. Is it like it used to be?”

Hatcher shook his head. “Mostly we’re just trying to survive. Scrounge for food and supplies, trying not to be seen by the Zulus, doing what—”

“Zulus?”

Hatcher nodded. “One of the guys in my group is ex-military. I guess Zulu is military for ‘z’…z, zombie, zulu…”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“Anyway, we’re doing what you do, just in the urban jungle.” Hatcher sighed. “You’d think we’d have gotten this thing under control by now, but…it really is an uphill battle.”

“How many got out of the park to spread the virus?”

Hatcher gave him a confused look. “No, kid. When the military blew the top off the mountain, it went into the atmosphere. It was carried all over the country. People caught it by…I guess…I dunno.” He looked to Hollis. “Was this stuff airborne?”

Hollis shook his head. “It’s not caught that way. Our best guess is that it settled on people and was ingested or it infected the water supply.”

“And then they bit others,” Buck added.

Hollis nodded. “It wasn’t pretty out there.”

“It wasn’t pretty here, either.” Buck leaned back and continued to stare out the window. He dared not hope there was anything worth going to outside of the park.

“Step on down, nice and easy.” Squirrel held the pistol on Henry and feared that the black guy on the other side of the cab was about to bolt and run. He actually relaxed a bit when the man climbed over to the driver’s seat and stepped down.

“I told ya, buddy, we ain’t got no gas,” the taller man from the driver’s side repeated.

“Just diesel. But you’re welcome to all of it. We don’t want no trouble,” the other man said, his jaw quivering.

Squirrel stepped back and eyed the pair. “It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out you two dragged the toasted import up here.”

Henry shook his head nervously. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Squirrel gave him a stupid look. “The damn thing is still smoking, you can see where the rims dug into the road…I’d bet money if I followed the trail back to where it starts, I’d be really close to your place, wouldn’t I?”

The shorter black man leaned toward Henry and whispered, “He’s good, Hank.” The taller man shot him a dirty look.

Squirrel sighed and holstered his pistol. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for you.” He took a step back and leaned against the gas pump.

“Who’re you here for?” Henry asked, relaxing somewhat since the gun wasn’t pointed at him any longer.

“I ran into a dude with a big military truck. Had a chick with him?” He leaned forward and studied the pair. “Ring any bells?”

Henry shook his head, but Wally snapped his fingers. “Hatch!” Henry shot him a dirty look again and Wally had no idea why. “What?”

“Ease up on him, Henry.” Squirrel said as he pulled a toothpick from behind his ear and slipped it into his mouth. “Ain’t no harm coming to an honest man.”

“Fine. What’s your business with Hatcher?” Henry crossed his arms, suddenly defensive.

Squirrel took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Well, now…see, that’s a totally different story.” He lifted his sunglasses and perched them atop his hair. “I need to know where that man came from.”

Wally perked up and shot him a big smile. “Hell, he lives with us.” Henry turned and glared at him, but Wally kept going. “Well, he did. He’s with the military now. They went back to Yellowstone to try and get a sample of the shit that started this mess.”

“You don’t say.” Squirrel gave him a sly smile.

Henry spun and in a low voice growled at Wally, “If you don’t shut your damned mouth and quit telling him everything, I’m gonna shut it for you.”

Wally took a half-step back and shook his head at him. “Man, you ain’t gotta be all hateful. The man’s looking for Hatcher. Least we could do is—”

“I said zip it!” Henry spun and glared at Squirrel. “What do you want with Hatcher?”

Squirrel gauged the man and knew that even though he was large, he had no idea how to fight. Still, he wasn’t here to hurt anybody.

Not yet.

“I just need to talk to him.” He pushed off the gas pump and stepped closer to the pair. “You see, my boss, hateful and greedy as he is, really wanted to speak to your boy Hatcher. Something about not paying a toll on the road he traveled. Then this helicopter zoomed in and made matters worse.”

“That wasn’t ours. That’s the military I was telling you about.” Henry spun and gave Wally another hateful look, but Wally stepped past him and closer to Squirrel. “They needed Hatcher to help ’em find their away around the park.”

Squirrel nodded as though it made perfect sense. “So, your boy Hatcher is with them as we speak.”

Wally nodded. “I would imagine so. They was supposed to bring him back when they was done with him, but he ain’t back yet.” He shrugged. “So unless he dead, they still using him.”

Henry grabbed Wally by the shoulder and pulled him back behind him. “You still haven’t told me what your intentions are with him. You say he owes your boss?” He turned to Wally and mouthed, ‘marauders.’ Wally went pale once he realized who he had been speaking with.

For the briefest of moments, a thought occurred to Squirrel. One that he wouldn’t have thought of if it hadn’t been for Wally and his trusting behavior. Rather than turning west and never looking back, what if he opted for a community not unlike one he had been advocating for? Where people work together towards a common goal…survival.

He opened his mouth to speak and found the words not coming. He stepped back and eyed the two fellows before him.

“Let me ask you guys something. How many people are in your group?”

Wally shook his head and Henry crossed his arms again. “Who says there are any?”

Squirrel sighed.

“Look, fellas, I wasn’t born yesterday. There is no way you two survived on your own.”

Henry wasn’t sure, but he thought they had just been insulted.

“I just want to know how many people there are with you. That’s all.”

“Just me and him.” Henry replied. Wally nodded behind him.

Squirrel pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Okay fellas. You leave me no choice.”

“Wait. What are you gonna do?” Wally asked.

Squirrel shrugged. “I’m gonna have to tie you two up.” He pointed to the back of the truck. “I’ll probably toss you in the back there and shut the doors. It might get a little hot this afternoon, but…” He shrugged again. “Then I’ll have to follow that nice little trail you left in the pavement until I find where this thing came from and I’ll knock on all of the doors and speak to whoever I find. Something tells me that I’ll find out what I need to know.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped and Wally sighed heavily. “What do we do, Hank?”

Henry nearly stumbled back. “Then you and the rest of the marauders will come in here and kill everybody.”

Squirrel’s head popped up. “What did you just say?”

Henry nodded. “Hatcher told us he ran into a group of marauders on the highway. Told us that y’all tried to kill him.”

Squirrel nodded knowingly. “Yes, they did. But believe it or not, I wasn’t a part of that.”

“But you’re a part of them, aren’t you? You’re some kind of scout, out here tracking us down so your marauder buddies can ride up here and—”

Squirrel held a hand up to stop him. “Okay, yes. I am with them, but I’m not with them. Understand?”

Henry nodded, then shook his head. “No.”

Squirrel felt his shoulders slump and he blew out his breath. “Look, fellas…I used to be a cop. Back when we actually had cops. I…I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” He started pacing, his hands moving wildly as he spoke. “I was supposed to bear witness to their crimes, but then the world went to shit. Now there’s no more cops, no courts, no nothing. I either had to cut and run or stick with them. Since there’s security in numbers, I stuck with them.”

“You went native.” Henry stated.

“No!” Squirrel nearly shouted. “You don’t get it. We don’t have some nice defendable apartment building or gated military base. We’re out there in box trucks and tents and…there are families.”

Henry’s brows rose, and he gave him a questioning glance. Squirrel shook his head. “Not mine. They…didn’t make it.” He took a deep breath, then turned and faced the pair. “Yes. They will most likely make their way here. But now you have a choice to make. You can either trust me or you can take your chances against them all by yourselves.” It was Squirrel’s turn to cross his arms and study them.

Henry glanced to Wally who gave a slight shrug. “He didn’t shoot us.” It was all Wally could think to say.

Henry swallowed hard and glanced down the road they had just come from then back to Squirrel. The man was right. All he had to do was follow the trail that the Civic left and he’d find where they were staying. He eyed the biker in front of him and something in his gut told him he was telling the truth.

“You got a badge?”

Squirrel snorted. “Sorry, man. If I carried something like that with these people and they found out?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Henry chewed at the inside of his lip. “But you were a cop?”

“In another life, yeah.”

Henry glanced at Wally again, but the man offered nothing new. He finally extended a hand to Squirrel. “What the hell. You’re right. If you followed the trail back, you’d find where we’re from.”

Squirrel took his hand and shook it. “First things first. After I meet with you people, we have to do something about that road.” He made a face that Henry couldn’t read. “If I can find you this easily, so can they.”

Dr. LaRue tossed her stethoscope back into her bag and zipped it up. “It’s probably something she ate.” She snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the waste basket. “Her fever is still low grade and it looks like her throat is a little raw, but it doesn’t smell like strep. I’m still inclined to think it’s a viral infection if the antibiotics aren’t helping. She hasn’t been taking them for long, but I would have expected an improvement of some kind.”

“But she hasn’t gotten any better,” Jason pleaded. “I’ve made sure she’s taking the medicine and—”

“And that’s why I’m leaning toward a viral infection.” Vivian kept her voice low and calm. “I honestly don’t think this is anything to worry about. It just needs to run its course.”

“Every time you say viral I can’t help but think the worst.” Jason’s voice waivered as he spoke.

“I understand your worry, but consider that the common cold is a virus. The flu is a virus. Heck, the grand majority of human diseases are viral.” She patted his arm. “Just make sure she gets plenty of rest and lots of fluids. She’ll be fine in no time.”

She turned to leave and Jason followed her out. “So, um…how are the, uh, the patients doing?”

“Patients?”

“The test subjects. Are any of them being cured?”

Vivian gave him a soft smile. “Some are showing signs of improvement, but we’re a long way from a cure.”

“But, you took her blood and—”

“And Rome wasn’t built in a day.” She patted his arm again and was really starting to lose patience with the man. “Trust me, as soon as we know for sure about a cure, you’ll be one of the first that we get it to.”

Jason smiled, then suddenly sobered. “That wasn’t…uh, what I was…”

“It’s okay Mr. Anderson. Believe me, I understand. Ms. Wilkes is a strong woman and we’re glad that the two of you are here. I can only imagine the fear of living with someone who may be a carrier of this dreaded disease.” She gave him a soft smile. “So, trust me when I say that we understand your concerns. As soon as we have something definitive, you’ll be the next to know.”

Jason nodded slightly as she turned to leave. He slipped back into the room and tried to tend to Bren while Dr. LaRue went back to work saving the world.

Candy paced by the gates and sighed dramatically when she saw the truck lumbering back toward the warehouse. “I swear, I’m going to kill them the moment they…,” she trailed off, her eyes catching glints of reflection from something behind the truck. She cocked her head to the side and listened carefully as a motorcycle engine revved.

She turned and motioned to the roof guard. “Eyes!”

The man nodded then pulled his spyglasses. He studied the approaching truck, then turned back to her. “One rider. Hank and Wally are in the truck.”

“I need extra guards at the gate!” she shouted into the radio, then turned and snapped the lock on the chain that secured the chain link gates.

She stepped back and pulled her pistol, ready for whatever approached the entrance with the truck. She leaned against the block wall of the staging area and watched as the truck pulled up to the gates and Henry shut off the engine.

She watched the motorcycle pull alongside the truck and a large man un-straddled the machine. He unzipped his leather jacket and walked slowly to the gate with Henry.

“Who’s your friend, Hank?” Candy asked, her pistol pointed at the stranger.

Hank held his hand out and the biker gently placed his pistol into it. “I would say he’s a friend, but…”

“Hands where I can see them!” Candy stepped from the small concealment she had and approached the pair on the other side of the fence.

“Roger Mulroney, at your service.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “I surrendered my weapon, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me.” She kept her weapon trained on the stranger, but chanced a glance to Henry. “What’s his story, Hank?”

Henry swallowed hard. “I think you’d better hear it from him, Candy.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t tell it and you understand.”

“Didn’t Hatcher say the marauders were bikers?”

Henry nodded. “He used to be a cop.”

“I don’t give two shits if he used to be the governor!” She stepped forward and motioned to one of the gate guards. He unlocked the gate and she waved the two men through. “If you’d kindly place your hands behind your back.”

Squirrel could tell it wasn’t a request. He slid the leather jacket off his shoulders and dropped it to the ground. He gave her another award-winning smile and crossed his hands behind his back. “The jacket is a bit too binding when cuffed.”

She watched as the gate guard slapped the cuffs on him, then she approached. “So, you’re used to wearing handcuffs, are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m used to putting them on people who look like me, though.”

“We’ll see.” She grabbed him roughly and began dragging him through the staging area.

Wally stepped out of the truck and called to her. “What do you want us to do?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that, Wally!” she called back over her shoulder.

Chapter 17

Buck glanced out of his window, then caught Hatcher’s attention. “Are we going up there?”

Hatcher nodded. “That’s the source of the virus, as far as we can tell.”

Buck paled and began nervously shaking his head. “No, we can’t. We need to turn back! Now. We can’t go up there or—”

“Cool your jets, kid!” Hollis yelled. “You better calm down or you’ll find yourself walking back to the world.”

“Fine! Let me out!” Buck began fumbling with the door latch when Hatcher grabbed his arm.

“What’s going on?” He tried to shake Buck to get his attention, but the kid seemed to be in a panic.

“You can’t go up there.” Buck got the door open and the driver locked up the brakes. He jumped out and stepped away from the Humvee, his whole body shaking as he glanced nervously into the trees.

“Why not, Buck?” Hatcher appeared from behind the truck and slowly approached him. “What’s up there?”

“They are!” Buck whispered loudly. “That place is…it’s like it’s sacred to the infected.” He stepped back and froze, his eyes scanning the woods.

“What do you mean?” Hollis suddenly appeared from the front of the truck. “Sacred how?”

Buck shook his head. “I can’t explain it. I just know what I’ve seen.” He suddenly bent low and had to slow his breathing.

“Tell me what you mean, son.” Hatcher placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “What did you see?”

“The clans…they fight over that mountain top. Well, what’s left of it.” He swallowed hard and nodded toward the crest. “I’ve seen them fight harder over possession of that mountain top than they do over food or land or…” his voice trailed off, his eyes scanning the horizon ahead.

“What makes you think it’s sacred to them?” Hatcher asked.

“Just the way they act when they’re there. They don’t scream to each other. They actually set up watches. The clans stay in the area, but they refuse to go to the very top. It’s like it’s a holy place or something.”

Hatcher shot a glance to Hollis. “Their Jerusalem?”

“Who knows.” He nodded to his driver. “Spread the word. We can expect heavy resistance near the peak.”

“More than heavy resistance…the largest clan has possession of it now. You’re talking a group close to sixty strong.” Buck shuddered as he spoke.

“How many are women or children?” Hollis asked.

Buck gave him a surprised look. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll fight alongside the men. And most of the females are as vicious as the men.”

Hatcher paused for a moment, remembering when Buck’s mother took on Mitch at the Center. He was right…the females were every bit as vicious as the men. He turned to Hollis, “Is there any way we can get more support out here?”

Hollis shook his head. “It’s just us.” He gave Hatcher an evil grin. “But until they come up with something that can trump a .50 cal, I think we have the upper hand.” He turned and made a circle with his hand. “Load up!”

Buck continued to shake his head and backed away from the truck. “I’m not. I can’t go with you.”

Hatcher stared into the woods and held his hand out to him. “I can’t leave you here, Buck. This isn’t safe.”

He turned wide-eyes to the man. “And you think we’ll be any safer up there?”

Hatcher gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You can stay in the truck. In fact, we only need one person to get out and get a sample of the goo that started this.”

Buck gave him a surprised stare. “That isn’t where it all started.” Hollis and Hatcher both gave him their attention.

“What do you mean?” Hatcher asked.

“My sister Keri. She was the first to get infected.” Buck turned slowly and pointed to the east. “We were camped at a hot spring.”

Hollis came back around the front of the truck. “So, you’re saying there’s another hot spring? One that the virus originally came from?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, and it’s just over that ridge. We were camped there when there was an earthquake or something. This black goo came up out of the water and my sister swallowed some of it. A few minutes later, she turned into a zombie.”

Hollis nodded to Hatcher who took the boy by the arm. “We need you to show us which hot spring. Do you think you could remember?”

Buck gave him a duh look. “Of course.”

Hollis slid into the front seat and keyed his radio. “Change of plans. Stay on our six and watch the perimeter.” He turned and gave Buck a sly grin. “Point the way.”

Squirrel wasn’t surprised at how cautious the woman was being with him. He’d have probably done the same. Well, unless he was with Simon or some of his more trusted men. If that were the case, he’d have to be more ruthless. Brutal. Almost savage. He tried not to think of such things. Instead, he tried to focus on the here and now and the potential to not only save these people from Simon’s wrath, but possibly even redeem his own soul.

“I asked you where you came from.” Candy slammed her hand on the table. Squirrel groaned and gave her sullen eyes.

“I told you it doesn’t matter where I come from because it was just a camp. They’ve already pulled up stakes and they’re looking for you.”

“Why would they look for me?” Candy took her chair and gave him a deadpan stare.

“I told you. They’re looking for where the military truck came from.” He sighed heavily and looked toward the door of the small room they were in. “Is there somebody in charge here?”

“Yeah, there is.” She poked herself in the chest. “Me. So if you want to stop jerking my chain, start talking.”

Squirrel recognized the body language. She wasn’t adept at interrogation. She either learned this piss-poor method from watching somebody inept or from watching television. He nodded his head and leaned back in the chair. “Fine. Ask away, officer.”

“Deputy.” She tried to growl her answer and he did his best not to laugh at her. She was in charge of this fiasco, so he had better do his best to give her the respect she felt she deserved.

“Apologies, deputy.” He forced his face to be stoic and he sat up straighter in his chair. “Ask me anything.”

“Where are your marauder buddies?”

He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. As I stated, they pulled up stakes and were going to work an expanding circle. After running into your friend Hatcher, the leader of our group wanted…well, everything that Hatcher and his people might have.”

She tried to remain calm, but he could read her face. She didn’t like the answer.

“And this is the same group of people who tried to kill Hatcher and the couple he was with?”

Squirrel nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She swallowed hard and jotted something on her pad he couldn’t make out. He assumed it was just scribbling to buy time.

“And you are admittedly part of that group?”

He shrugged slightly. “Well, yes and no.”

“It can’t be both, pal. You can’t be a little pregnant, so what is it?”

“It’s complicated.”

She did her best to give him a menacing smile. “Enlighten me.”

He had to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling. “It’s a long story, but the short version is, I was under cover and infiltrated the gang. When the virus was unleashed and civilization went to shit, I was trapped. As I told your guy Henry out there, there is safety in numbers, so I stayed with them.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied him. “You’re sticking to the story that you’re a cop?”

He nodded.

“And when did you go through the Academy?”

“I went through originally back in ’09. I was fresh out of college and thought I could make a difference.”

“Who was the—”

Squirrel raised his voice to cut her off. “It doesn’t matter, deputy.” He paused and glared at her. “What does matter is that I found your two knuckleheads out there in a matter of minutes. Me. By myself.” He gave her a moment for the statement to soak in. “Now imagine that whole group searching this area. Nearly fifty men strong. How long do you think it will take them to track you down?”

She visibly paled, but did her best to retain her composure. She sat back and studied the man. “Your point?”

“My point?” He gave her a surprised look. “These guys are ruthless. They’re blindly allegiant to Simon and whatever he says, they will do. If he tells them to strap a bomb to their chest and charge the gates, they will do exactly that.” He sat back and shook his head. “I have no idea how many you are here, but unless you have a regiment of Marines hiding in the back, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you are offering your help?”

He slumped in his chair and shook his head at her in disbelief. “I came here, surrendered my weapon, allowed you to handcuff me and drag me in here for this sorry excuse for interrogation, and you think I have an ulterior motive?” He nodded vigorously. “Sure. Why not. What might that be? Allow myself to be captured…for what?” He leaned forward and nearly screamed at her, “Don’t you get it? I’m here to try to save you people!”

“From your people.” Her voice was soft but accusing.

“Fine. Yes. From my people. Even though they aren’t really my people, from your point of view, they absolutely are my people.” He leaned back in the chair and lowered his voice, his eyes suddenly softer. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. But I’m trying to tell you, they are coming, and they will find you. Unless we take steps to hide this place, make it blend in…something. They will find you. They will destroy you, and they will take anything and everything of value.” His face suddenly turned sad, and his voice was barely a whisper as he concluded, “Anything they don’t think is of value, they will kill or destroy.”

Candy nodded slightly and her voice cracked when she spoke. “And I’m supposed to believe that even though you are part of this group, you are the good guy and you want to help?”

He hung his head and sighed. “Yeah.”

She stood and he didn’t look up. He heard the door open and she muttered something to whoever was outside. When she came back in, she placed the notepad back on the table and he felt hands behind him unlock the cuffs. He pulled his hands to his front and rubbed at his wrists without looking up.

She slid the notepad in front of him with a pen. “I want the names of the people you were with.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know most of them. They were underlings. Worker bees. Simon is the one you have to be careful of. He’s the lunatic running the asylum.”

“Then tell me everything you know about him.”

He opened his mouth to speak when she pushed the notepad in front of him again. “People tend to write slower than they think. It gives them time to include things that they might not think to the first time.”

He glanced at her, then nodded. “Got it.”

He pulled the notepad closer and picked up the pen. “Do you just want to know about the man himself or the crimes that I personally witnessed?”

“Start at the beginning. From when you were approached to go undercover.” She stood and reached for the knob. “I’ll bring you some coffee if you like.”

He smiled to himself. “Got any doughnuts to go with it?”

She nodded. “I think we can find something.”

He watched her walk away and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she were testing him or seriously wanted the information she asked for. Regardless, he would give her exactly what she wanted.

Vivian went from test subject to test subject, charting their vitals and noting any changes in their condition. She paid particular attention to the second subject. His temperature had come down considerably and was close to normal. The red in his sclera was turning to brown, and she couldn’t be sure if it was his natural eye color or if the blood that had been pumped there was decomposing. What would cause the hemoglobin to break down?

She stood back and tried to note any other physical changes that were noteworthy. She stretched her back and laid the chart down long enough to try to stretch her neck. She had spent so long studying the subjects she wasn’t sure if it was day or night.

“Coffee?”

She turned and saw Charles holding two cups of the steaming liquid. She gave a quick sigh of relief and peeled her gloves off. Pulling her mask down, she inhaled the dark nectar and smiled. “Thank you. This is exactly what I need.”

He handed her an apple. “I’d hide it if I were you. I think it’s the last of the fresh fruit onboard.”

“An apple a day?” She slipped it into her pocket and sipped the coffee.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was thinking when I snagged it off the mess deck, but if you really think it apropos.” He leaned against the workbench and sipped at his own coffee. “I’ve gone back through the different sequences.”

“And?” She hoped he had found something promising. She didn’t want to tell him before, but she secretly hoped that his gene therapy would work.

He shook his head slightly. “Until we get the original virus to study, I don’t think I’ll be able to make any leeway.”

She nodded toward the second test subject. “His vitals are improving.”

“Which one is he?”

“He received both of the vaccines. The secondary antigen has the stronger adjuvant.” She took another sip of the coffee then set her cup down. “His temperature is only slightly elevated, and his eyes are beginning to clear.”

Charles gave her a surprised look. “His vitals?”

“Blood pressure is still a bit elevated, but that could be normal for him.” She shrugged. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s responding.”

“Dare we pray that he recovers…”

“If praying works for you, Charles, feel free.” She gave him a look he couldn’t read. “I gave up on a divine creator the moment this monstrosity raised its ugly head and wiped out nearly all of humanity.”

Charles nodded. “I may not have much faith left, but I think I’ll exercise it.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’ll try to be believe enough for the both of us.”

She picked her cup up to take another sip when a weak and trembling voice asked, “Is that coffee I smell?”

Both researchers turned and stared at the source of the voice and Vivian’s cup fell from her hands, crashing on the deck below.

Candy paced outside of the room she held the biker in and chewed nervously at her thumbnail.

“Thoughts?” Vicky asked.

She shook her head. “Part of me thinks he’s telling the truth.” She glanced back toward the door, then added, “The cop in me doesn’t trust a word he’s saying.”

Vicky groaned and tried to stop her from pacing. “What does your gut tell you?”

Candy sighed. “My gut is just as confused as my head.” She hooked a thumb back toward the door. “Prince Charming in there shows up, surrenders his weapon, and tells us he’s with the marauders, but he wants to help. What am I supposed to think?”

“Is there a reason to doubt him?” Vicky was simply trying to play Devil’s advocate.

“Part of me worries he’s some sort of advance force that comes in and reads our strengths and weaknesses then uses it against us so that his people suffer the least losses.”

“What does the other part tell you?”

Candy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m hoping his report will cast a bit of light on that.” She gave Vicky a sly grin. “If he really is a cop, I’m hoping he’ll use terms or acronyms that cops use in his write up.”

“But even if he does, there aren’t any police left.” Vicky added. “Who’s to say he wasn’t a cop at one point, but then joined with this group just to stay alive?”

Candy nodded. “Exactly. Even cops can have bad apples.” She sighed and wiped a hand across her face. “I can go in circles with this kind of logic all day.”

“Okay, let’s assume he was a cop once.” Vicky began. “And let’s assume that what he’s saying is true. All of it. He stuck with the group because it increased his survival odds. Why would he suddenly jump ship and try to help us?”

Candy shook her head. “I dunno.”

“Because I want to do what’s right.” Both women jumped at his voice and Candy spun on him. He held his hands up in surrender and shot her another brilliant smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I heard voices.” He handed her the notepad. “Apologies. I didn’t use much cop-speak in the write up.”

“You need to go back inside and sit down until—”

“We can’t waste any more time. There are four more men out there in neighboring towns searching for the source of the smoke…from the car? We spotted it last night and played a hunch.”

“You need to go back inside and SIT DOWN. I will be with you in just a—”

“Candy, is it?” He stepped back into the room, but held the door. “We don’t really have much time, so let me just say this,” he paused and took a deep breath. “Yes, I rode with those assholes. I witnessed things I wish I could scrub from my memory, but I can’t. I’ve pondered leaving them in the middle of the night and just riding until I hit an ocean and…and become somebody else. But I never did. And I think the reason I never did was because I had to atone for the things I allowed to happen.” He stared into her eyes and prayed she could understand what he was saying. “You and your people give me that opportunity. Who knows? Maybe the reason I never left was because I was supposed to help you.”

Candy shook her head. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“I understand that. But I need you to understand something…just because I rode with them, and yes, it was mutually beneficial, that doesn’t make me like them.”

“Ever hear of guilt by association?” Vicky tossed in.

Squirrel nodded. “Fine. You do what you need to do, but trust me on this. You need to get a crew out there and hide that car and the trail it left back to your doorstep. Otherwise those four men will find it and they will report back to Simon. Then you’ll have the whole damned gang breathing down your neck.” He pulled the door shut and walked back to his seat.

Vicky looked to Candy. “It couldn’t hurt to send a crew out. Maybe…somehow they could disguise the damage the car did?”

Candy shook her head. “How?”

“Haul in dirt.” Squirrel said loudly from behind the door.

Candy turned and gave a dirty go-to-hell glare at the door then turned back to Vicky. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “See if the guys can find a county dump truck and jump start it. See if they can haul some sand or something down the road and…bury it or something.”

“On it.” Vicky turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Candy spun and reached for the door. Her hand hovered just above the knob and she contemplated the man sitting on the other side.

He did turn over his weapon.

He didn’t hurt Hank or Wally.

She glanced at the notepad in her hand and skimmed through what he had written.

She squared her shoulders and opened the door. “Tell me more about Simon.”

Chapter 18

Hatcher stared at the hot spring with Buck while Hollis directed his men in setting up the perimeter. Captain Hollis slithered into the white body suit and double checked his filtrations system before donning the head piece.

“Is all of that necessary?” Hatcher asked.

Hollis nodded, but you couldn’t tell outside of the helmet. “Trust me. I’d triple this up to make sure I don’t get exposed to that crap.”

“It certainly smells like crap.” Buck muttered. He glanced at the remains of the hot spring then looked to Hatcher. “I remember that smell the night Keri got sick. But the spring water didn’t look like that.”

“What did it look like?”

“It was black. Like tar.” Buck held his hand over his mouth and stepped farther back as Hollis approached the edge of the spring. He extended a metal pole with a beaker on the end and held it out over the spring.

“It was dark.” Hatcher said, his voice nearly a whisper as he watched the Army captain try to retrieve a sample. “Maybe it looked black because it was night.”

Buck studied the blood-red thick goop that surrounded the spring. “Keri was covered in the stuff when we pulled her from it.” He turned to Hatcher and shook his head. “That looks different.”

“We’ll just hope it’s what they need.” Hatcher wrapped a reassuring arm around Buck’s shoulders and gently pulled him farther from the spring.

Hollis inserted the beaker into the spring then pushed it deeper under the surface. “There’s a chance the red color is a result of being exposed to the air or sunlight.” He seemed to struggle with raising the beaker back up and when it broke the surface there was an audible sllurrrp noise.

He pulled the beaker back and placed it on the ground. He disconnected it from the extension and held it up to the light. The liquid within the beaker was a much darker color. “Is this the stuff, kid?”

Buck leaned slightly toward the beaker and nodded. “Yeah. That looks more like it.”

“Contact, captain!” one of the men yelled.

Hollis nearly jumped, then turned his attention back to the sample. He opened a metal case and pulled pyrex containers from within.

“Maintain the perimeter, boys. If anything gets within a hundred meters, put ’em down!”

He opened each of the containers and poured the blackish goo into each one. He secured the lids and placed each one carefully inside the metal case. He tossed the extension and the beaker into the spring, then stepped back and pulled his head covering off.

He peeled the thick rubber gloves off then reached for a satchel. He pulled out some large, wet rags and began wiping the outside of the metal case with them, tossing each one aside until he was assured the exterior had been sanitized.

With that task complete, he began peeling the rubber suit off. Reports from the rifles cracked from the other side of the Humvee and Buck jumped at the sounds.

Hatcher pulled the boy back to the rear door and pushed him inside. “We’re about to go. Don’t worry. These guys are the best.” He gave Buck a wink, then shut the door.

Hollis peeled the last of the suit off and kicked it aside. “Load up! Back to the LZ. Sergeant, radio the chopper and tell them we’re inbound. Alert them that we are plus one!”

“Roger that, sir.”

Hollis yelled at his men to load up and one of the soldiers manned the machine gun turret at the top of the second Humvee. He tracked the Zeds as they darted between the trees surrounding their position.

“Don’t shoot unless they charge or make a threatening move.” Hollis ordered through the radio. “Conserve our ammo in case we hit a shit storm between here and the LZ.”

The vehicles shot away from the hot spring and turned back toward the Visitor Center. Hollis tried to make his notes on the move, but the road was too rough. He sighed heavily and jotted down the time and GPS coordinates. The rest would have to wait.

Hatcher leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “The parking area in front of the center is more than big enough for your chopper to land. It would cut a little more transit time.”

Hollis shook his head. “Where we landed is our primary. We have a fallback position, but that’s only if the primary is overrun.” He checked his watch and smiled. “We’ll have plenty of time.”

“For?”

“To get to the refueling station before dark.”

The Humvee slid to a stop and the driver pointed to the trail ahead of them. “Uh, sir?”

Hollis looked up and saw the Zeds almost in formation, working their way up the mountain. They carried spears, and the one leading the group carried what looked like a military rifle in his hands.

Hatcher leaned forward and took in the force ahead of them. “Fuck me…”

Hollis nodded slowly. “You can say that again.”

The two bikers slowed their rides and pulled to the shade of an abandoned gas station. “Man, I ain’t seeing shit here.”

The second biker pulled his t-shirt up and wiped the grit and sweat from his face. “Me, neither.” He motioned to the other with his chin. “Radio Squirrel and see what he wants us to do.”

The man pulled the radio from his jacket and keyed it. “Baby Bird to Momma Bird, come back.” He paused and stretched his neck, wishing he had a cold beer.

After a moment of silence, he keyed the radio again. “Baby Bird to Momma Bird, come back.” He released the key and added, “Ya filthy animal.” The two chuckled at his off-air joke.

After waiting a bit more, he keyed the radio again. “Baby Bird to Dirty Bird, you listening?”

The radio came to life again. “Go for Dirty Bird.”

The biker cracked a grin. “You hear from Momma Bird?”

“That’s a big negatory, Baby Bird. Maybe he’s still riding and can’t hear ya.”

The biker nodded and looked to his partner. “What do we do?”

The man shrugged and leaned back on his bike. “Fuck it. We can sit here in the shade and take a siesta, or we can go on and look for the ugly fucker.”

The first biker groaned as he considered the options. He lifted the radio to his mouth again. “Dirty Bird, you seeing anything?”

“Another negatory, Baby Bird. Whatchu wanna do?”

“I’m thinking we take a break. Maybe find something to chew on, and if we don’t hear from Momma Bird, we keep heading south ’til we find him.”

“Sounds like a plan. We found an old grocery store with a few canned stuffs still in it. Not enough to warrant calling base to haul off, but enough to make a decent lunch. Want to check back in about an hour?”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any. We’ll see if we can’t scrounge up something to swallow here. Talk to you in an hour.” The biker clicked the radio off, then turned to his partner. “Find food or take a nap?”

“Both?”

The other biker nodded. “Well, alrighty then. Let’s see if we can’t dig up some grub then maybe we can find a nice shady spot to catch a few winks.”

“What if Squirrel doesn’t answer?” The second biker asked. “Do you really want to go look for him?”

The first biker gave him a deadpanned stare. “Hell, no I don’t want to look for him. But do you want to be the one to tell Simon we lost Slug and Squirrel on a simple recon?”

The second biker shook his head. “Hell, no.”

“Then I guess we find Squirrel. Or, what’s left of him.”

Vivian stared open-mouthed at the man on the gurney. “Did you just…”

“Was that coffee?” He gave her a weak smile. “I’d kill for some.” He winced after he spoke.

Vivian stepped over the mess of her spill and approached the gurney.

“Doctor.” Charles handed her a set of gloves and she quickly pulled them on.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she struggled with the surgical gloves.

“My head is killing me.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Feel like I have a hangover from hell.” He cracked an eye open and looked around. “Am I in a hospital?”

“An isolation ward.” Charles stated as he stepped closer and pulled a light from his coat pocket. He flipped it on and flashed it into the man’s eyes.

The patient instantly squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. “That hurts.”

“Apologies, but I really need to take a look at your eyes.” Charles reached for the man’s head and turned him back toward the light. “Bear with me a moment.”

The man winced, but allowed Charles to peer into his eyes. The light flashed across his vision and Charles turned and nodded at Vivian. “Good reaction.”

She excitedly scribbled onto her chart, then reached for the digital thermometer. She pressed it to his forehead then read the display. “Normal.” She tried not to smile then scribbled on the chart.

“What happened? Was there an accident?”

Charles gave the man a solemn look. “You don’t remember anything?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No, but my head is killing me. Can I get an aspirin or something?”

“Of course.” Charles reached for his wrist and looked at his watch. He turned to Vivian. “68.”

She scribbled on the chart again, then reached for a syringe. “I need blood samples.”

“I hate needles.” The man cringed and looked to Charles. “Does she really got to do that?”

“I’m afraid so, my good man. Buck up. It will be over before you know it.” He patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly.

He closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth as Vivian wrapped a large rubber band to his upper arm. He barely felt the needle and let his breath out hard when she released the rubber tourniquet. “Is it over?”

“Nearly.” She attached a second specimen tube and allowed it to fill. She pulled it back and pressed a cotton ball to his arm, then taped over it. “All done.”

She handed the vials to Charles who attached the labels, then he quickly handed them off to an orderly. “Tell me, what is your last memory?” She held the pen ready.

The man squinted at her and she could tell he was trying to think back. He slowly shook his head. “I think my wife and I were leaving to find a restaurant or…no…” his voice trailed off. “We were leaving town.”

“Leaving town?” Charles asked.

He nodded slightly and winced. “My neck is so stiff.” He tried to reach up and glanced at the bindings holding his hands down. “Why am I strapped down?” A look of panic started to well up in him and Vivian placed a hand over his.

“It’s for your own protection.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he continued to tug at the leather straps.

“Let me go!” His voice rose in volume and Vivian reached for another syringe.

“Let’s sedate him.”

Charles gave her a confused stare. “Why?”

“I said let me go!” He tugged at the straps again and began thrashing his legs. “I want to go home! Untie me dammit!”

“We need to get him calm and verify his viral load before we do anything else. Now hold him down so I can…”

The man’s hand slipped from the leather binding and he began swinging wildly. Charles reached for his arm to reattach the strap and the man inadvertently scratched him across the cheek. Charles struggled with him, then using his body weight, held the man’s arm while Vivian reattached the leather strap.

She sunk the needle into his arm and pressed the plunger. Within moments, the man calmed and his eyelids became droopy. He continued to demand he be let go until he succumbed to the drug.

Vivian blew out a long breath then turned to Charles. She paused and stared at the bleeding scratch on his cheek.

“What?” Charles had no idea what she was staring at.

Her arm rose slowly and she pointed at him. “Contain him.”

“Dennis, please tell me you two can do this without screwing it up.”

Wally gave Candy a hurt look. “Really? Wow.”

She grabbed him by the arm. “This is no time to worry about hurt feelings. I have every other able-bodied man either preparing our weaponry or reinforcing the perimeter.” She gave him a serious look. “I need to know you two can do this.”

“Come on, Candy.” Henry said as he marched past her. “How hard can it be? Find a dump truck, dump some sand on the road, and hightail it back here. Easy peasy—”

“Do not say that.” She fell into step behind him. “This is not time to make light of something this important.”

Henry paused and sighed heavily. “Fine. We got this.” He lifted the fuel can and set it in the back of the pickup. “Look, when we’re done, it will look like any other street.” He shot a glance to Wally, then added, “That is, covered in dirt and sand…to cover up the trail that…” He shook his head. “We got this.”

“Just hurry.” She turned and started back inside. “But don’t be in such a hurry that you screw it up.”

“We got this!” He motioned to Wally and the two loaded in the cab.

Henry started the truck and pulled out into the street. “Tell me you know where a dump truck might be.”

Wally groaned. “Brother, I have no idea.”

“Christ on a cracker. We live in the middle of a fucking desert and we can’t find sand.” He goosed the accelerator. “We are so screwed.”

To Be Continued in Race to Oblivion

Caldera The Series

For years, the biggest threat that Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with the extinction of Neanderthal man, the virus erupts into a crowded Yellowstone. The park is packed with sight seers and party goers during a benefit concert who are all now fodder for the ancient rage virus.

Follow along as Park Rangers and local Sheriff’s find themselves overwhelmed with a park full of infected human cannibals.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, an ancient virus is released within Yellowstone National Park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction?

Follow along with a select group of individuals as they fight for survival. Can they avoid the infected? Can they evade the military called in to help? Can they trust each other?

Will humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves scattered. Clinging to life in clusters, hiding from the infected and scavenging from the remnants of humanity, life has evolved to mere survival.

The United States government has attempted to reestablish itself in the last safe place on earth…an offshore flotilla of naval vessels. The last of the CDC’s disease researchers work tirelessly to find a cure, but the virus keeps mutating. They need the original strain from Yellowstone.

Only one man knows the park well enough to escort the military to the source of the virus. Daniel Hatcher is called upon once more to face the threat of Yellowstone. Follow along as they try to survive ground zero.

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves battling not only the infected, but each other. Predators prey on the weak and strength comes only in numbers.

Government researchers are working tirelessly to find a cure, but time is running out. Over 90% of the world’s population is dead or infected and the number climbs daily.

Follow a select group of survivors as they fight to carve out an existence while defending themselves from rage fueled cannibals and roving bands of marauders.

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 and three of his seven children. He steals time to write between household duties, going to ballgames, being a grandfather to five and being 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.

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 heathstallcup@gmail.com

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.

Also by Heath Stallcup

My stories so far: The Monster Squad Series

The first saga:

Humanity has spent its time enjoying a peace that can only be had through blissful ignorance. For centuries, stories of things that go “bump” in the night have been passed down and shared. When creatures of the night proved to be real, the best of America’s military came together to form an elite band of rapid response teams. Their mission: to keep the civilian populace safe from those threats and hide all evidence of their existence.

This time, they face the largest threat ever to rise against mankind as it prepares its own twisted Apocalypse. The only thing standing in its way is the Monster Squad. Man and monster will fight side by side in an epic battle to the death to try to defeat an evil so great, it could only have been created by the hand of God Himself.

The second saga:

An ancient evil is awakened by a naïve pawn. Planned centuries in advance by fallen angels, the reign of Lilith is put into motion. With a legion of demons at her command, she plans to enact her revenge upon the world’s largest religious group before thrusting herself center stage and taking her seat upon the throne as Queen of the World.

With threats coming at them from every angle, the Monster Squad turns to an ex-member to form a new team—a team made up of the most unlikely warriors to hunt down and face the Demon Queen.

However, when it comes time to remove the Queen in this grand game of chess, will they be able to sacrifice their own game pieces to do it?

Caldera Trilogy

For years, the biggest threat Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, the virus is released within the park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction? Can humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Whispers Trilogy

How does a sheriff’s department from a small North Texas community stop a brutal murderer who is already dead and buried?

When grave robbers disturb the tomb of Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert searching for Old West relics, a vengeful spirit is unleashed, hell bent for blood. Over a hundred years in the making, a vengeful spirit hunts for its killers. If those responsible couldn't be made to pay, then their progeny would.

Even when aided by a Texas Ranger and UCLA Paranormal Investigators, can modern-day law enforcement stop a spirit destined to fulfill an oath made in death? An oath fueled by passion from a love cut down before its time?

Forneus Corson

Nothing comes easy and nothing is ever truly free. When Steve Wilson stumbles upon the best-kept secret of history’s most successful writers, he can’t help but take advantage of it. Little did he know it would come back to haunt him in ways he’d never have dreamt… even in his worst nightmares.

With his life turned upside down, his name discredited, his friends persecuted, the authorities chasing him for something he didn’t do, Steve finds himself on the run with nothing but his wits and his best friend by his side. When a man finds himself hitting rock bottom, he thinks there’s little else he can do but go up… unless he’s facing an evil willing to dig the hole deeper. An evil in the business of pitting men against odds so great, they risk losing their very souls in the attempt to escape…

Mind Trip

These are just some of the dark and twisted ideas that have run through the mind of Heath Stallcup over the years. Join him in a journey to the darker side of short story fiction.
Mobsters intent on ruling the world reveals that sometimes you just can’t go home.
The release of a zombie virus and the ramifications of trying to hide it.
Sometimes reality isn’t what you think it is. Those noises in the attic may not be rats…
Dwelling on the past can be introspective but refusing to let go will skew your reality.
You know you are about to die. You want nothing more than to protect your loved ones. In a fever induced delirium you lead the threat away from those you care most about.Hunter Trilogy

Born of Viking stock, careered into the Swedish Navy, Sven Ericsson finds himself in the fabled New World. Away from the restraints of society, the young Northman is dragged into long nights of debauchery; nights that lead him into the waiting arms of a dark beauty who will change his very nature forever.
Fighting his new unnatural status, Sven steers clear of humanity, skulking along the fringe of society, and filling his inhuman need with the blood of the outcasts or the easily forgotten. A shadow among the shadows...until extraordinary events, centuries later, force him to emerge from the dark. A mishap of his own making pits Sven Ericsson into a moral quandary that will remind him what it means to be a warrior.
He is a killer. A fighter.

And a Hunter of his own kind.

Check this YA Zombie thriller from JJ Beal.

Lions & Tigers & Zombies, Oh My!

The cold war has heated up again. This time the battle will be fought in every street of America.

Trapped in a major city, hours from their small town country home, a team of young girls find themselves cut off from everyone they know and left to fend for themselves as the world spins out of control.

With nothing but their wits, their softball equipment and their friendship to hold them together, they face incredible odds as they fight their way across the state. Physical, emotional and psychological challenges meet them at every turn as they struggle to find the family they can’t be sure survived. How much more can they endure before reaching the breaking point?

Also From DevilDog press

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Nemesis by Suzanne Madron

Prey: Blood of The Ancients By Tim Majka

All That Remain By Travis Tufo

From The Ash By Dave Heron

Mossy Creek A Maggie Mercer Mystery By Jill Behe