“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
