Caldera 9From The Ashes
Heath Stallcup
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
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Also by Heath Stallcup
Also From DevilDog Press
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Caldera IX From the Ashes
©2019 Heath Stallcup
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Printed in the U.S.A.
ISBN—
Created with Vellum
To my twin 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…
1
Hatcher watched the truck’s tail light flash just before the vehicle jolted to a dead stop. In the faint glow of the headlights he saw the passenger door open and it could only be Big Mike that stepped out. He lowered the binoculars and glanced at the men still clinging to the adobe walls. “Anybody got a high power scope? I can’t make out shit with these.”
A man he barely recognized stood and handed him a hunting rifle. Hatcher really didn’t care that it was a bolt action; he only wanted the optics. He lifted the heavy rifle to his shoulder and squinted, focusing his attention on his right eye.
Through the dust and haze brought on by the truck’s headlights, he could see a pale figure dart towards the front of the truck. Hatcher had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling and felt his chest tighten when a large body collapsed near the front bumper of the truck. “Oh no…”
He was just about to lower the rifle when the driver popped up on the opposite side, firing wildly towards the front of the truck. Hatcher pressed the rifle tighter to his shoulder and continued to watch events unfold. He saw another pale-skinned body launch from the passenger side of the vehicle, towards the shooter. That very same body collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
“They need help out there.” He lowered the rifle and scanned the men available. “You two, with me!” He handed the heavy rifle back to the other man and slung his carbine across his chest. “Move it!”
He hit the iron gates at a dead run and burst through the bent and nearly broken chain link gates. He could hear the other men huffing behind him, their heavy boots thumping the ground as they ran full force towards the stand of trees.
Hatcher held a hand up as he slowed, his boots slapping the ground. He brought the carbine up and shouldered it, his eyes scanning the area. He bucked the barrel skyward when Wally slapped the front fender of the truck, staggering along the side of the vehicle, using the dead metal beast as support. “Friendly!” he yelled as the trio approached. “I’m empty.” He held the pistol up and nearly lost his footing, his body sliding down the side of the truck.
Hatcher gripped the man by the upper arm and helped him back to his feet. He noted the dark stain covering the left side of his face and a nasty gash above his left eye. “What happened?”
“Got my bell rung when the truck hit the trees.” Wally turned away, his stomach threatening to heave on him.
“Where’s Mike?”
Wally reached out and gripped Hatcher’s arm, his head slowly shaking. “They got him.”
“What about Simon?” Hatcher feared the worst as Wally dry heaved.
His body retched a few times as he tried to catch his breath. He slowly turned and leaned against the truck, his eyes unable to focus. “I saw him.” He gulped air again and leaned his head back. “I shot at him. No idea if I hit him.”
Hatcher cursed under his breath. He motioned to the other two men. “Get him to the infirmary. I think he’s concussed.”
Hatcher let go of Wally’s arm and turned toward the front of the truck. Three dead Zulus lay spread out on the ground. He kicked the first body over and knew immediately it wasn’t Simon. The second body was missing most of his face, but was too tall. The third body was a stocky-built female.
“Son of a bitch!” Hatcher spun a slow circle, cursing whatever gods would allow that waste of flesh to still live. He listened intently, his hearing mostly deafened by the previous firefight. He stared at the blood splattered across the ground and barely caught sight of a speckled trail leading away from the trees.
Hatcher reached for his belt and pulled the small LED flashlight. He clicked it on and walked around the edge of the carnage. He could just make out the small smears of blood leading away.
He looked back at the compound and winced at the amount of flames that had spread. He turned back to the trail and the inky darkness that engulfed it.
Weighing his options, Hatcher knew that the safest play was to turn around and help save their home. He could hunt Simon down tomorrow. That bloody trail wasn’t going anywhere.
Carol whimpered as the beating continued on the glass door. She winced when Kelly screeched at the beast and waited for the gruesome end that she knew was about to claim her.
It took her a moment to realize that Kelly had grabbed and was shaking her shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”
Carol jerked away, her face pale and her eyes wide as she looked
