Out Of The Fire Read online

  Caldera Book 2

  Out Of The Fire

  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

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Caldera The Series

  About the Author

  Also by Heath Stallcup

  Also From DevilDog Press

  Acknowledgments

  To my wife for putting up with my crazy self. I don’t know how you do it. Somebody had better submit your name for sainthood.

  My sister Sheila for being such an awesome proofreader and catching my mistakes and double checking everything.

  Terri Clark, who gave the ‘Go-No Go’ on this book.

  Mark Tufo and Joe McKinney…you two got me started reading the zombie genre. I realize this isn’t exactly the same thing, but I hope I do you proud.

  Sandra Mantooth…I wish you had talked me into choosing this career path YEARS ago.

  Chapter 1

  Buck yelled, “I can see something moving in the trees!”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Load up!” Bob leaned across the side to Skeeter. Skeeter turned and came sprinting toward him, rounding the front of the RV and up to the door. “Inside, Buck, now!” He stood outside the door, holding it open for his son who was slowly backing toward the RV.

  “There’s movement out there.” Buck pointed as he turned and headed to the door just as figures broke through the tree line and began sprinting toward them.

  “Inside, now!” Bob began pushing him inside, stumbling and tripping behind him.

  He pulled open the wound in his shoulder, causing a white hot flash of pain to shoot down his arm. He felt his arm go numb from the elbow down and his hand became a useless appendage.

  Cursing to himself, Bob rolled inside the RV and pulled the door shut with his other arm, locking it behind him. He pulled himself to a standing position and began moving forward, just as the first thumps began hitting the side of the RV, rocking it slightly. He could hear muffled screams from outside the RV and knew that if he didn’t hurry, more would be called to their location. He didn’t think that a large group could topple the monstrosity, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out.

  Slipping in behind the wheel, he released the parking brake and threw the large motorcoach into gear. “Keep an eye out for Mom.” He turned to Buck who had taken his seat again in the front and gave him a knowing look. He then glanced into the rearview mirror and caught Skeeter’s eye. “And speak up if you happen to see your sister.”

  Bob had to bend down slightly to see out of the clean spots he had created in the windshield, but at least he could see. Only one of the crazy people had come around to the front of the coach and was near his side. He pressed down on the accelerator and watched as the oversized, flannel-dressed man was pushed out of the way when the coach rolled forward.

  Glancing at the side mirrors, he knew there was a pretty large group following them, but he didn’t care at this point. He had to be careful of the cars parked along the side of the road.

  “Just floor it, Dad!” Buck yelled.

  “I can’t,” Bob replied through gritted teeth, fighting the pain in his shoulder. “If I ram any of those parked cars, we’re toast.”

  Buck shook with adrenaline as he continued to lean forward and stare into the side mirrors. The figures chasing them weren’t falling back fast enough. “They’re gaining on us.”

  Skeeter had moved up and was staring out the front windshield, her eyes scanning the view that the headlights lit up. On occasion, she would see a fast-moving figure in the distance flit across their path, but she couldn’t make out any of the details. “This is nuts.” She moved back to a side window and tried to see, but couldn’t make out anything through them, either.

  Skeeter froze when she heard a thumping noise that sounded like it came from the roof. She turned her head upward and stared at the ceiling. “Buck? There’s no way they could get up on top, is there?”

  Buck looked at her as though she were crazy. “Of course not. This thing is like fifteen feet tall.” But then he heard the hard-thumping noises coming from the ceiling as well, and his eyes widened. His head snapped toward his dad who was white knuckling the steering wheel. “Could they?”

  Bob shrugged. “Unless they figured out how to climb the rear ladder.”

  “There’s a ladder on the back?” Buck repeated, astonished. “Why didn’t you ever…I mean…” he trailed off. He picked up his crossbow and went back by Skeeter. “I didn’t know there was a ladder on the back.”

  “Isn’t this your RV?”

  “My uncle’s.” Buck released the safety on the bow, listening intently as the thumping increased in spots. “I can’t tell where it is.”

  Skeeter pointed up to a spot on the ceiling. “There. I think.”

  Buck shrugged and pointed the crossbow straight up and pulled the trigger. The bolt disappeared into the ceiling and a scream could be heard from above the RV, followed by a loud thump.

  “Did you get him?” Skeeter asked.

  Buck shrugged again. “No clue. But the banging stopped.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “Maybe I shot his hand? He ain’t a knocking.”

  Both kids stood underneath the hole that Buck had shot into the ceiling, watching and listening for more banging, but it didn’t come. After a few more moments, Buck patted her shoulder and moved back forward.

  “We’ll have to be extra careful when we leave the coach, Dad.” He took his seat and stowed the crossbow. “There may still be one on top.”

  Bob nodded, failing to actually respond. Buck noticed that he seemed paler than before and leaned closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Bob answered, his head swaying slightly to the rocking of the RV. Buck leaned forward and studied him.

  “You look really rough. Do you need more Tylenol or some water or something?”

  “I’m fine, Buck. I just need to get you kids to safety.” Bob continued to drive as his eyelids began to droop.

  “No, you’re not.” Buck came in closer and took another look at him. He pulled up his bag and pulled out his flashlight. Flipping it on, he looked at his dad in the light and nearly gasped. His skin had turned an ashy gray color and his shoulder was dripping blood. “Jesus, Dad,” Buck groaned as he dug in his pack again. His first aid kit was about extinguished of supplies, so he trotted back to the bathroom.

  Buck pushed open the door and ignored the blood splattered everywhere. He pulled open the cabinet below and pulled out the box of sanitary napkins. Ripping one from the package, he sprinted back up front and reached over the captain’s chair that his dad drove from.

  “This may hurt…” he said as he pressed the absorbent material to the
reopened wound.

  Bob hissed in pain, but continued driving. Buck leaned back and yelled at Skeeter. “Get some water and grab something for pain.”

  “Where would it be?”

  “Look in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet,” Buck yelled as he continued to press against the wound.

  Bob’s head began to rock back and forth and Buck patted his cheek. “Dad, stop the coach.”

  “No… have to get you kids to safety,” he muttered as his eyes fluttered shut.

  “Dad!” Buck yelled in his ear and Bob jolted back up, almost swerving into the line of parked cars. “Pull over, I’ll drive.”

  Bob chuckled weakly. “You can’t drive,” his voice croaked. “You’re too young.”

  “Stop the coach!”

  Bob fought the urge to push on and brought his foot up to the brake. As soon as the coach was stopped, Buck reached up and pulled the air brake. He looked at Skeeter who had just returned with a bottle of water and something rattling in a smaller bottle. “Help me with him. Let’s get him to the bed.”

  Together, the two kids dragged Bob to the foldout bed and laid him out across it. “Watch him for me, okay? Just hold this on his wound and give him as much water as he can swallow,” Buck said, his eyes filled with worry.

  He turned and went up to the pilot’s seat. Releasing the air brake, Buck pushed down on the accelerator and began driving the giant RV. His nerves were quickly put to the test as the cars dotting the sides of the road began to quickly narrow and close in on him. He hit the high beam on the headlights and looked ahead. His stomach quickly fell through the floor as his eyes fell on something he hadn’t expected.

  Parked in the middle of the road sat a car, its hood up. With cars lining each side of the road, and this car parked in the middle, there was no place for him to go. He’d either have to back up over a half mile, in the dark, through winding uphill rocky roads with zombies on his tail…or go through the roadblock. Stopping here and hiking out the rest of the way wasn’t an option. Even if his dad were in better condition, these things moved way too fast.

  He glanced back at Skeeter tending to his dad. “Tell me something?” Buck asked.

  “What’s that?” Skeeter replied.

  “Is it better to gain speed and ram through a roadblock, or move up to it slowly and push it out of the way?”

  “Depends on the roadblock, I guess.” Skeeter wiped at Bob’s brow with a damp rag. “What is it?”

  “A car,” Buck sighed as he began to slow down.

  “A what!” Skeeter screeched as she jumped up and ran to the front. “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where would you push it to?”

  “I don’t know. Into the others? Off to the side?”

  Skeeter wrapped her arms around Buck’s neck. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

  “Say again your position,” the tinny voice repeated over the speaker.

  Hatcher rolled his eyes and keyed the microphone once more.

  “I’m sitting inside Watchtower Sierra one-oh-two,” he repeated in a slow and deliberate voice. “Two others have left on all-terrain vehicles in order to lead the attackers away. Proceed with due caution, but please send assistance!” Hatcher released the key on the microphone and leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Why was dealing with military people so much trouble?

  “Wait one,” the tinny voice responded.

  Hatcher turned up the volume on the radio and stepped away for a moment, stretching his legs. His back ached and his head throbbed from a lack of sleep along with too many adrenaline rushes. He peered over the edge and saw three dark figures clawing at the base of the tower, trying to climb the long, rough-cut timber that made the supports. Shaking his head, he stepped back and into the darkness of the tower. The grand majority had followed the ATVs as Mitch thought they would. He only hoped they didn’t run into any trouble along the way.

  Hatcher heard static as the radio keyed back to life and he quickly slid back into the chair. He wrapped his hand around the microphone as a different voice filled the speakers, rattling them until he turned the volume back down. “This is Colonel Vickers of the Air National Guard, state your name and the nature of your emergency.”

  Hatcher’s shoulders drooped as the wind blew out of his sails. “With all due respect, colonel, I’ve already explained the nature of my emergency at least a dozen times. If I have to do it again, can you do me a favor and gather up whoever the hell else will need to hear it and get them all together, so I’ll only have to explain this one more time?” Hatcher spat with more venom than he really intended. He listened to the silence of the radio for a moment and feared that he may have barked at the wrong person, or worse, totally pissed off the one person who could actually make things happen.

  He waited in silence for a moment before the voice returned, “I’ll give you this much, son, you got spunk.” The voice sounded a bit softer than the first time. “My lieutenant has informed me of your…reported state of emergency.” The colonel did not sound convinced of Hatcher’s sincerity at the moment. “I’d like to hear it from you myself.”

  Hatcher sighed and keyed the mic. “And are you the one who actually makes decisions?” He released the key then rekeyed it quickly, “Sir?” He added the title as most military would to keep from pissing the man off any more than he already had.

  Hatcher noted a tone of amusement in the colonel’s voice when he returned to the radio. “I most certainly would be.”

  “Very well then,” Hatcher sighed. “I can only hope you’ll believe what I have to tell you, because my life and the lives of my friends depend on it.” Hatcher went on to detail the night’s events as he knew them. He explained how the concert goers were attacked and how once they were scratched or bitten, they too became crazed and attacked others. He explained how the whites of their eyes filled with blood, then the blood settled in the iris, turning them a deep red. He detailed the jerky, almost bird-like movements of their heads, and how they seemed to be overflowing with energy as they could run full out without stopping and didn’t seem to tire like normal people.

  To his credit, the colonel listened intently and didn’t interrupt. Of course, Hatcher knew that he would have to key his mic on the radio and he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but he assumed that the colonel was still listening or taking notes, as he didn’t inundate him with questions on the few occasions that he released the key on the mic.

  When Hatcher finished, he waited for a response. And waited. And waited. Finally, he keyed his radio again and spoke, “Colonel? Are you still there?”

  Hatcher waited a bit longer and was about to give up when the radio came to life again. “I’m still here, son,” the tinny voice responded. “I was taking notes, then I had to make a call.”

  “So what should I do?” Hatcher asked. “Will you be able to send help?”

  He waited again for a response, but none came. He continued to wait, assuming the colonel was still on the phone. Hatcher drummed his fingers on the table and spun in his chair a bit as he waited. With his nerves nearly shot from not being able to raise anybody from the Forrest Service, the Park Service, or the sheriff’s department, these guys were his only hope.

  He reached up to the key the mic just as the radio shot a burst of static and the colonel’s voice returned. “Sit tight, son. I’m trying to coordinate with a handful of different groups, but I’m doing my best to get some boots on the ground to assist.”

  Hatcher shot a questioning look at the radio. “Other groups, sir?”

  “This is sounding like an infectious disease, and my superiors are in full agreement. They’re hot-flighting the CDC to your location. That means we’ll most likely have a full garrison on the ground before daybreak,” the colonel said quickly. “I’m trying to coordinate with the Pentagon as well with which troops to send.”

  Hatcher nodded and smiled, then his gears started turning. He considered the colonel’s last statement. Which troops to send?
What difference should it make? We need to contain these people to prevent the spread of…but how does the military best contain anything? Hatcher’s mind spun faster as he considered the ramifications. He snatched up the mic and keyed it. “Colonel, are you meaning what I think you’re meaning?”

  Again, there was silence on the line and Hatcher didn’t know if his nerves could take waiting much longer. “Colonel?” Again, he waited as static filled the air. “Colonel, if you plan to send boots into my park just to mow people down when there’s a chance they could be treated and released…” Hatcher warned.

  Again, no response. He set the mic down and paced. His heart rate had increased, and his breath rate had increased as well. He continued to think of the vast numbers of people who were present at the concert. Surely not all of them were ‘infected.’ Surely some of them simply scattered into the woods to escape the attacks. He knew for a fact that Mitch and Candy were…Mitch!

  Hatcher scooped up the mic and keyed it, “Colonel, be aware that not all of the people in this park have been compromised. You cannot simply come in, guns blazing!” Hatcher fell into the chair and stared at the radio, mentally begging the man to respond.

  A short burst of static came across the speakers and the colonel’s voice echoed out from the speakers, “We are under direct orders to contain this outbreak, no matter the costs, Mr. Hatcher,” the colonel informed him, his voice sounding eerily mechanical. “If you have people in the park, I strongly suggest you gather them up and have them ready for a medical inspection before we arrive.”

  Mitch slid to a stop at the crest of a hill and peered behind them. “I’m not seeing anybody back there, do you?”