Caldera Book 6: New World Order

Chapter 1

Hatcher spun on his heel and stared out the door. What the hell is all that racket?

Sweet Jeezus! We’re under attack! The voice came from the hatchway in the ceiling where the rooftop sentries entered and exited the main body of the warehouse.

Hatcher ran for the staging area as others made a dash for the armory. He caught Roger’s attention. I need a rifle!

On it! Roger bolted for the armory as Hatcher slipped along the edge of the building. He cleared the steel wall and peered through the chain link fencing. He spotted a brown truck cutting doughnuts in the rear parking area as a wave of infected swarmed through the far fence.

ZULUS! Hatcher screamed. Seal the building! He grabbed the nearest man and spun him around, pointing at the overhead doors. Seal the entries! Get all shooters topside!

He bolted and ran for the armory. Roger left the packed room carrying two AR rifles and a small duffle of magazines. Got ‘em! He thrust the closest rifle to Hatcher. Should we stage along the doors?

Negative. Hatcher pointed to the roof access. We keep the doors shut and sealed to protect the civilians. Everybody who’s capable of shooting needs to be on that roof!

Candy emerged carrying a bag of Molotov cocktails. I got the fire! Hatcher jumped into the air and caught the descending hook and rope. He gave a hard pull and hooked it to her bag.

Get up there and prepare to repel boarders. NOBODY gets inside that ain’t us! He grabbed the other end of the pulley system and tugged the bag into the air while Candy ascended the ladder.

Roger took to the ladder and was right behind her. How’s this for a fun Saturday night?

Without slowing Candy shot back, This is no time for jokes.

Roger readjusted the rifle hanging off his shoulder and increased his climbing speed. Who’s joking?

As soon as Candy came off the ladder topside, she fell to her knees and reached for the rope. Roger grabbed the bag and hefted it to her. Easy! she yelled. You don’t want this on you, I promise.

What’s in it? Booze?

She shook her head as she unhooked the rope and dropped it back through the hatch. It’s a mix of gasoline, rubbing alcohol and kerosene. She tugged the bag up and onto the rooftop. With a bit of bleach mixed in for effect.

Jeezus. Roger emerged through the hole and scooped up the bag. The pair ran to the edge of the building and peered over the parapet. The truck was still spinning circles in the driveway, knocking infected out of its path as the ass end swung around. They could hear some idiot screaming from the truck.

What is he yelling? Candy asked.

Roger’s face fell and he gave her a disgusted look. It’s Simon. He’s just whooping it up.

Candy groaned and reached for the first bottle as Roger rammed a magazine home and charged the weapon. Going hot!

Roger took aim on the truck and began to fire at the cab. The infected, who seemed more concerned with the meal on wheels, suddenly lost interest at the sound of gunfire. Groups broke away from the smoking vehicle and began trotting toward the warehouse.

Oh shit… Roger groaned.

What’s wrong? Candy asked as she flicked at a lighter, trying to ignite the first cocktail.

I think I distracted them away from Simon and towards us. He glanced over his shoulder at the other men on the rooftop. Don’t just stand there! Light ‘em up!

Candy smiled as the flame licked to life on the cotton rag dangling from the top of the bottle. Fire in the hole!

The first cocktail landed in front of a small group that had taken the lead. The liquid napalm and resulting fireball engulfed the small group. Their screams changed from basic communication to alarm and pain. She actually winced at the sounds.

I hate doing this. She lit the second bottle and held it up, allowing the rag to fully flame.

I’m sure they’d have no qualms about taking you apart for supper, my love. Roger popped off more rounds, dropping a few that were charging around the barbecue.

Their screams…chills my bones.

Doesn’t chill them. Roger continued to fire, picking off the leaders of the pack. In fact, I think their screams get the others worked up. Spent, he quickly changed magazines. Check it. They’re worked into a frenzy.

Zulus stormed the chain link that protected the outdoor portion of the staging area. Bodies stacked up along the base of the barrier as the infected tried to gain purchase. Fingers and toes jammed into the metal fabric, their gaunt bodies struggling to climb the fence as more of their brethren fell under the hail of bullets.

Roger barely caught the truck spinning around once more, the front pointing toward the rear fence again. It only slowed when the grill made contact with the straggling infected.

He watched the front end lift high in the air as the driver climbed over bodies. He put the crosshairs on the truck again and emptied a magazine into the rear of the cab.

He watched the truck jerk to the side and slowly roll into the fence next to the gaping hole that the Zulus had entered. I think I got him! Roger squinted to peer through the rising black smoke, his weapon at the ready.

I-I can’t see anything for the smoke. He waved his hand in front of his face and brought the scope back up to his eye. I can’t see if…dammit! He opened fire on two retreating bodies in black leather biker gear.

Did you get Simon? Candy asked as she launched another cocktail.

Roger shook his head. I can’t be sure. They wrecked the truck, but I watched two people run out the back.

Hatcher appeared, his face covered in smears of black and his rifle barrel smoking. It ain’t over. The infected are fighting through! He lowered his barrel over the edge of the parapet and began firing at those that were hanging on the fence.

Bodies stacked up on the ground just beyond the staging area fence and Zulus were using them to climb up to the top of the chain link. Don’t let them get over the fence!

Roger opened fire on those closest to the fence as Candy tried to drop the cocktails into the body mountain. She lobbed one over the fence that refused to shatter, the bottle rolling harmlessly down the fleshy ramp of infected. Damn it.

Roger smiled as he put the crosshairs on the tumbling bottle and squeezed the trigger. The first shot went wide, but the second shot shattered the glass, sending the flames up and out as the fuel mixture inside expanded.

Hatcher, there’s another vehicle! One of the men on the roof and Roger turned to peer past the edge of the warehouse. He could just make out headlights slow and come to a stop before the car accelerated and tore away. He watched the taillights as the car made a beeline for the end of the road.

I gotta see which way they go! Roger took off at high speed and launched himself from the roof of the warehouse offices and onto the roof of the main warehouse. He scrambled on hands and knees up the steep metal until he reached the peak.

Candy watched as his silhouette pulled up a pair of binoculars, watching after the car. Roger lowered the binoculars and shook his head. Son of a… He turned and looked to Hatcher. He’s out there.

Simon? Hatcher asked as he reloaded his rifle.

Roger shook his head then clambered back down the peak, took a running jump, and rolled onto the roof of the offices again. He came to his feet and approached Hatcher. No. The infected guy with the pipe. He was out there.

How do you know?

Roger grimaced. I watched him try to spear their get away car with the pipe.

Hatcher shook his head as he took aim again. He scanned the grounds but only saw dead or dying. Where’d they go?

The man standing next to him raised the barrel of his rifle. They were all just there a second ago, then…disappeared.

Hatcher blew his breath out hard and nodded to the men on the roof. Get a team down there. Put down any that are still breathing, but make sure you have a lookout. I don’t want any surprises.

The men scrambled for the roof exit as Hatcher slumped down and refocused on the parking lots. He continued to scan the grounds as the men set up in the staging area.

What do you think about that, Hatch?

About what?

Roger huffed. The guy with the pipe. He settled in close and lowered his voice. That was a pretty big group that just hit us. You think this guy could be their leader?

Hatcher shrugged, his eyes never leaving the ground below. Possibly. Not that it matters. He finally pulled back and nodded over the edge. Look at them. They’re nearly dead already.

Roger pulled his rifle up and peered over the edge. Most are dead. I see a few still moving.

No. I mean, LOOK at them. They’re about starved to death. He shook his head as he continued to scan the area. This may have been one last surge to get food before the end.

Roger mulled the idea. Yeah…I don’t think so.

Carol slowly opened her eyes and blinked against the bright white light. She pulled her hand up to shield her eyes then suddenly froze. She sat up and instinctively covered her chest. What the hell? She spun on the metal table and used her other hand to cover her nakedness.

Easy there, doc! Carol snapped her head toward the voice and saw a man handing her clothes, his head turned away from her. You’re good. You weren’t bitten or scratched.

She reached out and plucked the coveralls from his grip then turned her back to him as she slid into them. What the hell happened?

Dr. LaRue happened. She was rabid. She escaped her room and has bitten or killed at least twenty people onboard. The man cautiously turned his face to her as she zipped up the coveralls. How you weren’t injured, I don’t know. You were lucky.

So you just took it upon yourself to strip me down and—

By my order. Dr. Andre Broussard stepped into the room; his clothes were soaked with blood. We saved as many as we possibly could.

Carol swallowed hard as the realization sunk in. How many?

You. Broussard rocked on his heels. The rest… he blew his breath out hard. They turned within moments.

Carol’s mouth fell open. Moments?

He nodded solemnly. Whatever Vivian is carrying, it’s even more virulent than the original strain. At least back then they had…some time.

Carol’s hand instinctively went to her mouth. I didn’t know.

How could you? Broussard stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You were unconscious.

How long?

Broussard shook his head. Not long. Perhaps an hour.

An hour is a long time when the world is going to hell.

Broussard nodded. My dear, the world has already gone to hell. We are simply the unfortunate ones who lived to watch it happen. He looked up and nodded at the orderly. The man gave Carol a slight nod. Apologies, Miss.

Carol opened her mouth to apologize to him but he was out the door before she could find words. She looked back at Broussard, who was collapsing into a chair. You said, ‘is.’

Broussard looked up at her, his face painted with curiosity. Excuse me?

When you spoke of Viv…er, Dr. LaRue, you said ‘is.’ Does that mean that she’s still alive?

"Last I heard, oui. She is cunning. It’s almost like she knows when and where to hide and when to strike. He exhaled loudly and shook his head. She is systematically hunting the people aboard this ship as though they are simply prey."

Carol stumbled back and caught herself on the table. Can’t the military—

Broussard held a hand up to stop her. They have isolated our ship from the rest of the fleet. The closest vessel is over two nautical miles away. He shook his head again. Unless we can get thing under control here, I fear they will scuttle us.

No! They can’t! We are THIS close to finding a cure!

Broussard laughed and leaned back in his seat. We are creating a bandage, nothing more. He sighed heavily and slumped in the chair. At best we might save a fraction of the infected. That is, if the fever hasn’t burned out their brain.

But we can’t give up…

What’s left to fight for? He stretched his aching muscles and yawned, fatigue and the flush of adrenaline from his system causing his mind and body to shut down. Centuries from now, if the human race survives, they may well discover this virus again. Perhaps they can create a way to battle it.

Carol slumped and felt the tears well up in her eyes. So, it’s over?

He shook his head. That is not for me to say. He glanced through the door of the isolation ward and into the lab. All we can do is present our findings to your president; it will be up to him to decide. He closed his eyes and allowed his exhaustion to pull him closer to sleep.

So, it is over.

Broussard gave a slight shrug as his body went limp.

Sinner collapsed into the backseat of the little red import with Simon scrambling over the top of him. Let me in!

Sinner groaned as the car jolted forward, his shoulder oozing blood from the bullet wound. Christ, this hurts!

Simon pushed against the large man until he was finally able to sit upright, his head resting on the window. As soon as we get back, we’ll get you took care of.

Sinner leaned forward and felt the blood run down his back inside his jacket. He prayed that the round was a through and through. He didn’t relish the idea of any of these jackasses cutting around inside him looking for bits of metal or bone splinters.

Lean back. Put pressure on the wound, Stinky shouted over the roar of the little engine. Simon, hold this to his shoulder.

Simon slapped the rag out of the man’s hand. I ain’t holding shit. He picked up the rag and tossed it carelessly toward Sinner. If he wants to quit bleeding, he can hold it himself.

Sinner glared at the man as the little car darted through the city streets. You had a plan, remember? Where nobody had to die. Remember? Sinner’s voice increased in volume until the car fell silent. Nobody would get hurt but them. He tried to lean forward, to snarl at the man, but the pain was too intense. Remember?

Simon rolled his eyes. If you’d kept down like I told you, you wouldna got shot.

"They shot me through the rear window. You can only get so far down in a single cab pickup!" Sinner fell back on the seat, coughing.

Dude. Here. Stinky handed him a bottle of schnapps to kill the pain.

Give me that! Simon jerked it from his hands and twisted the cap open. He took a long pull on the liquor then shook his head. This shit is too sweet. You can’t use it on your wound. He tilted the bottle back and took another long pull from it. Besides, do you really want to smell like fucking peaches? He laughed at himself then screwed the lid back on the bottle.

I’m sorry, Sinner. I ain’t got nothing else.

Just hurry will ya? I got pills stashed in my bag.

Stinky shook his head. Unless they’re antibiotics, they ain’t gonna help your shoulder not get infected.

THEY’RE FOR THE PAIN, FUCKER! Sinner screamed then wished he hadn’t. He slowly rolled his head to the side and passed out.

Stinky slapped at Shooter, Hustle it up. I think he’s bleeding out.

Pfft! Simon sat up. It’s just a flesh wound. He’ll be fine when he stops being a pussy.

Stinky glared at his boss then reached behind his seat to try to press the rag to Sinner’s shoulder. Holy crap, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.

Simon rolled his eyes then dug into his pockets, wishing he had his emergency cigarette. He fished out an empty package and crushed it. You assholes have any smokes?

Stinky stared at him open mouthed. Seriously? Sinner’s shot and you want a cigarette?

Simon nodded. Duh. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.

Stinky shook his head, trying to press the blood soaked rag tighter against Sinner’s shoulder. I don’t smoke.

Simon reached over Stinky and slapped at Shooter. Give me a cigarette.

Shooter rubbed the side of his head. I quit.

The hell you did. When did you quit?

Shooter glared into the rear view mirror. "When the world bit the dust and they stopped making them!"

Simon huffed and sat back in his seat. Press the skinny pedal down then, asshole. I got some smokes tucked away at the house.

Shooter downshifted and tried to increase his speed on the straightaway. He glanced back at Sinner and prayed the man survived. They were going to need him if they ever hoped to get rid of Simon.

Chapter 2

Hatcher stood at the gate, his rifle at the ready. Any idea how many?

Hank shook his head. There are dozens who could have crawled off, Hatch. But I’m guessing there’s at least fifty dead just here by the staging gates.

Roger sighed as he lifted the feet of another dead Zulu and swung him into the back of the truck. I used to work crowds before I went undercover. If I had to estimate the size of the force that showed up, I’d put it at around two hundred, two-fifty.

So, there’s potentially another two hundred Zulus out there, waiting for us.

Roger shrugged. I’m sure there are more. That was just the force that struck last night. He kicked at the body at his feet. Now that they’re up close and personal, I see what you mean about them starving to death. He pointed to the next one on the pile. This guy is so emaciated, we probably did him a mercy by putting him down.

Hatcher hunkered low and studied the body in front of him. I’m betting money they’ll be back.

Wally came trudging into the staging area with three other men. They cut the fabric on the fence. He dropped the roll of wire he had been carrying and stretched his lower back. We patched it up as best as we could, but…if they hit us with any strength again, it won’t stop them.

Hatcher nodded as he came to his feet. Let’s not worry about hauling the dead too far off. I want people to focus on packing and us getting the hell out of here.

Roger stiffened and eyed the other men before speaking. You sure that’s such a swell idea, Hatch? He stood up and stretched his back. Don’t misunderstand, I love the retirement place, but…that wall? It’s only ten foot tall at best.

Hatcher nodded. With sentries, it’ll be safe enough.

Roger slowly shook his head. I dunno man. If they come at us with two hundred bodies? He glanced at Wally. How high did they stack the dead before they started climbing over?

Wally shrugged. Three, maybe four feet.

Hatch, this fence is a twelve footer.

Hatcher