Caldera Book 3Return 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
