“Smart move, kid.” Hollis caught the Visitors Center in his peripheral vision, then turned and faced the front again. “To the left. On the other side of that rise.”
The driver turned for the hill and the four watched the chopper suddenly rise from the ground and veer away from them. “What the…” Hollis reached for his radio, then froze.
A pack of Zeds were running toward them at top speed. “Move to secondary LZ!” he yelled into the radio.
“Get up.” The biker kicked his cohort on the bottom of the boot. “You’ve slept enough.”
The man grunted, farted, and rolled over. “Five more minutes, Mom.”
“How come you can’t sleep in a hotel with a real bed, but you can sprawl your happy ass out on a slab of concrete and sleep like the dead?”
The biker opened one eye and grinned. “Mattresses are too soft, man.” He sat up slowly and stretched. “Besides, concrete holds heat.”
“Yeah, no shit.” The first biker turned back the rest of the water bottle, then tossed it aside. “I feel like jerky, and here you are embracing the suck.”
“What can I say? I like to be warm.”
The first biker slipped his radio back into his jacket and straddled his bike. “I still can’t raise Squirrel on the squawk box.”
The second biker dusted the dirt and small rocks from his pants, then climbed aboard his own iron horse. “So, are we heading south to find him or going home?”
The first biker gave him a dirty look. “You really want to tell Simon we lost both of his lieutenants?”
The other biker shook his head and spit. “Not me, man. That’s your job.”
“Guess again.” The first biker hit the electric start on his ride and revved the engine. “Looks like we’re headed south.”
“What if he went into Albuquerque?”
The first biker scratched at his chin and pondered the thought. “Then I guess we can yell at him for leaving his radio off. What else can we do?”
“Man, we’d never find him. Rio Rancho is big enough, but if he went—”
“We’ll worry about it when we find him.”
The second biker gave him a worried look. “You mean if we find him.”
“No, I mean when we find him. We ain’t going back to Simon empty handed. We either find him alive and kicking or we find him dead.” He kicked the bike into gear and pulled onto the highway. The second biker begrudgingly followed closely behind.
Charles stared at Dr. LaRue as if she had threatened to shoot him. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been scratched, Charles. You know the protocols.”
“But…he is responding to the treatment. Surely he isn’t—”
“Take him now!” she barked.
Two orderlies grabbed the rotund man by the arms and led him to the isolation ward. Charles struggled only a bit at first, but soon realized he was in no position to fend off two large orderlies.
Vivian collapsed into her chair and followed him with her eyes. “I want him watched like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Ma’am? If he’s infected, it should manifest within a matter of moments.” One of the younger researchers stated. Vivian opened her mouth to reply, then realized, she couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Was it Carol?
“This is a different situation. The subject is responding to the treatment, but we have no idea if he’s a carrier, if the viral load is gone, weakened, or…” She threw her hands into the air. “We just aren’t dealing with the same situation.”
“Understood.” The young woman stepped back to her workstation and Vivian tried to remember who she was. She had nearly two dozen people on her staff and other than Charles, she really didn’t care to know who the others were.
She sat up slowly and stepped over her broken coffee mug. She found another cup and filled it with the caffeinated brew.
She watched through the doors as Charles struggled with the restraints and then finally relax. He laid back on the table and stared at the ceiling, his jaw flexing. She took a quick sip of the coffee, then pushed her way into the isolation ward.
“I’d offer you another pillow but—”
“Screw you, Vivian!” He bellowed. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, because once I get out of here, I intend to report you to the chain of command!”
She nodded gently. “You certainly have that right.” She took another sip of the coffee and didn’t really taste it. “But you know as well as I do that the protocols are in place to protect everybody. Not just those who may be infected.”
“He’s practically cured!”
“Practically is the key word there, Charles.” She set the coffee down and pulled her pen light. He glared at her as she approached him.
“Don’t you even think about it.”
“Don’t struggle, Charles.” She replied softly. “You are in no position to resist.” She lifted his eyelid and studied the whites of his eyes. “So far, nothing.”
“Ya think?” He responded sarcastically. “What did you expect?”
She clicked the pen light off and stared down at him. “I fully expected to see blood pooling in the sclera. Perhaps from blood vessels that burst or perhaps from—”
“Well, it isn’t going to happen because I’m not infected.” He set his jaw and stared at the ceiling again.
“Can you know that with absolute certainty?”
He jerked his head back to her and shot her a look that was pure hatred. “Yes.”
She nodded softly and crossed her arms. “Headaches?”
He gave her a confused look, then his features slightly softened. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s because I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.” He fought to keep his voice level as he spoke. “Too much caffeine and lack of sleep causes headaches, you know this.”
She nodded, then tilted her head to study him again. “Any pain in your extremities?”
He turned worried eyes to her again and nodded. “A little. I assumed it was just fatigue, or that maybe the orderlies got a little
