“The action event approval from the skipper. He’ll be briefing the strike team shortly. Hopefully, by the end of the day, you’ll have what you need.” Carol smiled and handed him back the sheet. “That’s your copy, ma’am.”
“I don’t need it. All I need is what’s on that list.” She nodded to the yeoman and shut the door. She stared at her tiny bed and knew there was no way she could go back to sleep. “Yes! Might as well prepare.”
She quickly dressed and made her way to the lab. Broussard was already inside, moving equipment to free up space.
“I take it you heard?” She stood in the doorway, a smile painted across her face.
“Oui.” Broussard lifted the larger microscope and moved it to the far wall. “I am making space for our new project.”
Carol sat down gently and watched as his excitement grew. “We still have to figure out an effective way to disperse the new variant.”
Broussard nodded as he wiped his hands. “I may have an idea.”
“A good one?” Carol spun lazily on her stool while she spoke. “Tell me it’s actually workable.”
Broussard nodded. “I believe so.” He pulled a stool out across from her and sat at the stainless steel table. “Remember, the original virus was sent into the air at Yellowstone.”
“When the bombs fell.”
“Or the caldera erupted, depending on which story you choose to believe.”
“Okay. So what about it?” She leaned on the table and studied him as he spoke.
“So, we make this variant an actual airborne illness. Not one that needs to be ingested or settle on a cut or sore, however the original virus invaded the body, this one we simply breathe in.”
Carol’s eyes widened. “But…that would infect everyone. That doesn’t sound like such a winner idea to me.”
Broussard nodded. “Oui, it would. However, remember that we are neutering the virus. We are making it asymptomatic.”
She shook her head. “There has to be another way.”
Broussard snorted. “Unless you want the military to waste all of their resources flying around shooting darts at infected individuals to inoculate them with the new variant DNA, airborne is the only viable solution.”
She swallowed hard and pushed away from the table. “I thought we were trying to treat the infected, not infect everybody.”
He stood up slowly, his eyes searching her. “Explain to me another feasible method and I will certainly consider it.”
“The water. Food sources. Flying around in their fucking helicopters and inoculating them like you said. All of them sound better to me than infecting everybody.”
Broussard sighed and sat back down. “Water would eventually infect everyone as well. These food sources you speak of? They are other people.” He shook his head at her. “We do not have the resources to inoculate the entire population of infected; it would take years.”
She had to force herself to slow her breathing. “I’m sorry but this just seems extreme to me.” She pressed a hand to her chest and tried to force herself to calm down.
Broussard gave her a solemn look. “Any other method of inoculation would ultimately infect us as well. One day we will reconnect with friends or family who were once infected. One inadvertent scratch, a cough, a sneeze, any of those mechanisms would undoubtedly transfer the new variant; it will remain contagious.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes probing hers. “If the new variant is neutered first, what difference could it make if it were airborne? Chere, we are exposed to viruses every waking moment, non?”
She forced herself to breathe, quelling her panic and allowing her mind to accept his words and to look at the situation scientifically. Slowly she began to nod. “You’re right. Eventually, everyone would be exposed to the new variant,” she looked up at him with worried eyes, “so I guess we better make damn sure that it stays neutered.”
Sinner shook Simon’s boot, waking him. “Shooter is taking off. He’s got a pretty good idea where to start his search.”
Simon sat up and reached for the bottle that wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath and slung his legs off of the mattress. “Where’s he headed first?”
Sinner shook his shaggy head. “Some place across town. He spotted a hybrid car at one of the houses here. He wants to use it. Says if he keeps the speed down, there won’t be any noise, that way he can get closer.”
Simon nodded as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Find me a bottle, will ya?”
Sinner rolled his eyes and looked down at the smaller man. “You really need to lay off the hooch, you know that?”
“Fuck you and good morning. Now get me a bottle.” His words lisped as he spoke through clenched teeth.
Sinner sighed and turned for the door. “Yeah, and the shoulder doesn’t throb nearly as much, thanks for asking.” He paused at the doorway. “If you want your booze, you’ll have to come downstairs to get it.”
He stomped down the carpeted steps and disappeared through the door leading to the garage. Simon groaned as he rolled off of the mattress and pulled his boots on. “Can’t find good help anywhere these days.”
He tromped down the stairs and spotted the pint bottle sitting on the dining table. He reached for it and noticed Sinner sitting in the recliner, his eyes closed. “It smells like assholes and ball sack down here.”
“Try showering once in a while.”
Simon raised a brow at the man as he cracked the seal on the bottle. “A bit mouthy this morning ain’tcha?”
“I’m mouthy every morning. I’m not a morning person.” Sinner kept his eyes closed as Simon tilted the bottle back and took a long pull.
“Ah. Breakfast of champions.” He belched loudly then shambled into the kitchen to pick through the boxes of food. “You really need to do some shopping. There ain’t shit left to eat.”
“I thought that was why we’re stalking the new neighbors.” Sinner pulled the lever and brought up the footrest. “Try to get drunk a bit quieter, please. I need my rest,” he cracked an eye open and looked at Simon, “I’m trying to heal over here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Simon dug through the boxes and pulled out a can that was missing the label. “I wonder if this is fruit cocktail or sour kraut?”
“Could be pickled possum peckers for all you know.” Sinner chuckled at his own joke. “Either way, might be the only thing left that’s edible.”
“Maybe if you whiny bitches pulled your weight around here instead of mooching off of my good nature…” Simon paused and glanced back at Sinner. “Speaking of my good nature, where’s them pain pills?”
Sinner shrugged with his good shoulder. “I don’t know where you keep your stash.”
“Not mine, asshole. Yours.” Simon stared at the larger man reclined in the chair.
Sinner cracked his eye open again and stared at the man. “I got them hid.”
“You need to share.” Simon gave him an evil smile.
“You can have whatever I don’t use.” Sinner nodded as he closed his eyes again. “The moment I’m done hurtin’, you can have them all.”
“I could do with a little Vicodin this morning.” He kicked at Sinner’s boot. “Pony up, fucker.”
“I don’t have any Vicodin.” Sinner waved him away. “The best I can do you is Lortabs.”
“That’ll work.” Simon stepped closer and held his hand out. “Tax time.”
“The hell,” Sinner snorted.
Simon kicked at his boot again. “I’m serious. Pony up.”
Sinner opened his eyes and glared at the man. “What if I need them?”
“I didn’t say give them all to me. Just a few. Now pay the tax.”
Sinner inhaled deeply and for a moment considered telling Simon to piss up a rope. Instead, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out two of the white pain pills. “You gonna fuck off if I give you these, right? Leave me be so I can sleep?”
“Sure.” Simon nodded to him sharply. “Unless I decide I need mo
re.”
Sinner held the pills out and Simon washed them down with the bourbon. “There ya go. Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”
Sinner watched the man stretch out on the couch across from him and for a brief moment, he considered slipping more of the pain pills into his bottle. A little overdose could do Simon a world of good.
Chapter 21
Roger waved the truck back to the rear gates and held a fist up to stop it. “Let’s get this unloaded. We still have a lot of work to do.”
He grabbed the lightweight aluminum poles and dragged them off of the flatbed of the truck. Another man gripped the rear end of the poles and helped to carry them inside. “Where do you want these, doc?”
Will shuddered at the name but pointed to the center of the courtyard. “Stack them there so we can sort them.” He stepped aside and allowed the men to carry the framework for what would soon be their arched-roof greenhouse.
“We spotted something that might come in handy while we were out there,” Roger said as he walked back for another stack of the curved pipe. “There was a gas powered lift that would go a long way towards getting the lookout station on top of the supports.”
Will’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes. Is it far?”
Roger shook his head. “Maybe a mile away. We drove by the equipment rental place so that Hank could look at a backhoe.” He grinned at the memory. “He was like a kid in a candy store. He kept talking about how it would dig out the moat so much easier.”
Will sighed animatedly. “I truly hoped he would give up on that idea. I’m afraid it’ll simply become a breeding ground for mosquitoes and other pests that we wouldn’t want so close to the compound.”
“You need to convince him. I’m not big on the idea either.” Roger hefted the end of the curved pipe and lifted it from the truck. “It was fun when I thought they were just ribbing Hatcher.”
Will wiped a hand across his face and turned to look for Hank or Wally. “Well, he still thinks it’s fun. This needs to be nipped in the bud before he starts digging a mudpit.”
Roger dropped the pipe on top of the previous load and pulled his gloves off. “If you’re looking for the dynamic duo, they’re actually on their way back.” He shot Will a grin. “They’re bringing the lift.”
“Truly?”
Roger shrugged. “It really seemed like a good idea. I didn’t think you’d mind the help.”
Will nodded toward the fort. “We may need an exterminator to rid us of the wee beasties that have infected it.” He watched the kids chase each other around the wooden structure. “Perhaps once we’re done we can use the lift to extract playground equipment for them.”
Roger agreed. “They need something to burn off all of that energy. Too bad about child labor laws, huh?”
Will raised a brow at him. “Technically, I don’t think there are any laws that we don’t implement ourselves.”
Roger gave him a surprised look. “We’re still human, doc. We need to live by some set of rules.”
“True and I agree wholeheartedly. I’m simply stating that with the current state of affairs, we are our own lawmakers.”
Roger sighed. “Do you think we’ll ever get back to something close to normal?”
Will shrugged. “I would certainly hope so. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”
Roger turned back to the truck as the men offloaded the rest of the equipment. “I think that’s it for this load. If you think we’ll need more of that clear plastic sheeting, let me know. There were two or three more rolls where that came from.”
Will eyed the roll lying on the ground and nodded. “Probably one more, assuming we restrict our waste to a minimum. I’d rather have extra for repairs down the road.”
Roger chuckled. “It’s not like that stuff goes bad, doc. I don’t see it disintegrating any time soon.”
“You’d be surprised the effect that this desert sun has on plastic. It might not biodegrade completely, but it loses its elasticity quickly and becomes opaque. We need it as clear as possible.”
Roger groaned. “I was teasing. I don’t guess they hand out sarcasm detectors in college, do they?”
Will narrowed his gaze at him. “Was that what that was?” He raised a brow. “I believe your delivery failed, Mr. Mulroney.”
“Ouch, Doc. I pride myself on my sarcasm delivery.” Roger motioned to the men and made a circular motion with his hand. “Doc says we need more. Load up.”
“And concrete; we’ll need to set those poles in something solid.”
“Got it.” Roger pulled the gate shut then turned back towards Will. “Anything else?”
“Yeah–anything to assist with gardening. Tools, fertilizer, mulch, planting pots…seeds.”
“Got it. One garden and a bunch of concrete. Sounds like a tasty salad to me.” He shot Will a wink before mounting up in the truck. “I wonder if we can find some bacon seeds. I’d kill for a BLT right about now.”
“I’m not positive I know what I’m looking at.” Carol held the film at arm’s length. “Are these all of the sequences you intend to alter?”
Broussard nodded and pointed at the film with his pen. “I’m positive that these snippets here will ‘neuter’ the virus. These over here will increase the aggressiveness, the rate of replication. And this one,” he tapped at the final section, “this one will allow the delivery to be airborne.”
Carol stared at the sequence he had circled in green. “And you’re positive that this is the only way?”
He nodded solemnly. “We’ve discussed this at length.”
“I know we have, I just…” she trailed off. “It’s very frightening.”
Broussard sat down carefully and studied her. “We could perhaps…test it first?”
She turned and gave him a wide eyed stare. “How?”
Broussard shrugged. “Ask for volunteers?”
Carol snorted and shook her head. “Would you volunteer for such a thing?”
Broussard slowly nodded and shrugged. “Oui. I would.”
“Too bad we need your noodle too much to allow it.” He looked up at her and she didn’t like what she saw. “No. Not just no, but hell no.”
“It may be the only way.”
“I won’t allow it. If something goes wrong, who will fix it? I don’t have the knowledge to finish the project.”
Broussard gave her a knowing look. “Nobody else would risk—”
“If you’re going to insist on a human test subject, then let’s ask the captain if there are any prisoners. Surely there’s somebody sitting in a cell because they screwed up too bad to allow them to be running loose.”
Broussard blew his breath out hard and shook his head. “I would suggest locating a group of the infected to test it on, but we must witness the results of human infection.” He looked at her knowingly. “We do need to test it on somebody who wasn’t infected first to know the—”
The lab door flew open and Kevin stormed in. “What are you children up to today? Did you know that they had fish omelets for breakfast this morning? Fish. Omelets.” He shuddered. “Where do they come up with these stupid ideas?”
“Fish is a sustainable source of protein,” Broussard informed him.
“So are eggs and at least an egg omelet is just scrambled eggs.” Kevin poured the last of the coffee into his cup and plopped onto his stool. “After I spit out that nasty mess I ended up eating oatmeal again. Oatmeal. This is like the third day in a row I’ve had to eat oats for breakfast. What? Do I look like a horse to you?” Kevin sipped his coffee and made a face. “Yuck. They call this spew coffee? No wonder the military guys all look so pissed off.”
Carol looked at Broussard and gave him a knowing look. She glanced at Kevin sitting at the table, still complaining. “Maybe we don’t need a volunteer,” she whispered.
Broussard’s eyes widened and he shook his head. He reached out and pulled her aside. “That is completely unethical.”
“The man is a nuisance. All he
does is consume resources and complain.” She lowered her voice even further, “Besides, if you are confident enough in your assumptions that you’re willing to test it on yourself…” She let the statement hang between them.
Broussard slowly shook his head again. “It is immoral.”
Carol shrugged. “But it’s an option.”
Kevin continued to whine while he perused the files. “And to top it all off, they tell me that the closest they can come to an incubator is to utilize one of the ovens on the mess deck. Can you believe that? An oven. Do they think we’re baking a cake up in here or what?”
Broussard sighed heavily. “Bien…possibly.”
“Right there.” Shooter pointed through the limbs of the bush he was hiding behind. He handed the binoculars to Simon. “People are all over that interior yard and I spotted a truck leaving earlier.”
“You have got to be shitting me.” Simon lowered the binoculars. “The whole world goes to hell in a handcart, but a handful of geriatrics reinforce their perimeter and not only survive but thrive?”
Shooter shrugged. “I can’t get close enough to tell if they’re all old or not, but I spotted kids playing in the backyard earlier.”
“Kids?” Simon scratched his chin. “At an old folks home?”
“I know, right? Most of the old folks I know hate kids.” He smirked. “I know mine did.”
Simon sat back and pulled the whiskey bottle from his vest pocket. He unscrewed the cap and took a long pull while his mind tried to wrap around the idea of old people surviving the end of the world.
“So we got a handful of old folks and some kids surviving the apocalypse in an assisted living center.” He sucked at his teeth then took another pull from the bottle. “This ain’t making sense.”
“Maybe it was grandkids visiting or something.” Shooter shrugged. “Either way, they should be easy pickings.”
Simon snorted. “Did you see that wall? Did you not see the chain link AROUND that wall?”
Shooter grinned at him, “On my way to get you. I may have figured out a way around all that, anyway.”
Caldera Book 6: New World Order Page 17