Savage blew his breath out hard and stared down at his boots, shaking his head. “You ain’t helping your case any, Squirrel. You know when Simon finds out you’re alive, you won’t be. Not for long.”
Roger nodded. “Unless we get rid of Simon and combine the gang with these folks.”
Savage shook his head. “Nobody is going to take a bunch of gypsies like us. We’d never be accepted.”
Roger stepped forward, his eyes pleading again. “I was.”
He let the words hang in the air. He knew that Savage was thinking and that was his end goal from the beginning.
“Look, man…I’m not saying we have to kill Simon. We just need to send him on his way. The guys in the gang, they’d listen to you. If you told them we were joining this group, that we were going to make a go at building something GOOD here, they’d listen, and they’d do what you said.”
Savage sighed and seemed to stare through him. “What makes you think I’d want the job? What makes you think I’d be any better a leader than Simon?”
Roger nearly laughed. “I’ve watched you, man. I know we never talked much, but I’ve watched you. You know that Simon is fucking nuts. He can’t be trusted. He’d turn on any of us in a heartbeat.” Roger stepped closer, narrowing his ability to escape if Savage decided to make a grab. “Can you say you trust Simon not to screw with you by hurting Stella?”
Savage stiffened, and his jaw began to tick again. Roger feared he might have stepped over that invisible line and took another half-step back. “I’m just saying, man…you know how he is. I’ve seen the looks you give him when he’s on a rant.”
Savage finally broke from his frozen pose and spun a slow circle. “The dude is nuttier than a fruit cake.”
“Right?” Roger breathed a sigh of relief. “And I’m straight up with you here, Savage—”
“Michael.” He turned and eyed Roger cautiously. “I’ve hated that handle since Simon gave it to me.”
Roger squared his shoulders and stepped forward. He extended his hand. “Roger. Roger Mulroney.”
Savage stared at him a moment and Roger began to feel a degree of fear creep into him. He slowly extended his hand and took Roger’s. “Michael Sutton.” They shook and Roger tried not to show how impressed he was by the shovel-sized mitt that had his hand engulfed.
“I wasn’t kidding. I know the gang would follow you. And if you offered them something… bigger? Bigger than themselves?” He turned and motioned to the rest of the city behind them. “We could reestablish ourselves. Make a life. Give the families some stability.”
Michael stared out at all of the empty houses and envisioned a community. A place they could call home, where neighbor helped neighbor. He saw community gardens, kids playing on something other than desert sands or pavement, humanity making a foothold and thriving, instead of simply surviving.
He turned back to Roger. “He’s too smart for a coup. He’d shoot me in the back of the head before I could overthrow him.”
Roger sighed and gave the big man weary eyes. “You’re my only hope, Mike. There’s no way he’d trust me if I went back.” He motioned to himself. “Especially now. Clean-shaven and Eddie Bauer clothes…not exactly biker material now am I?”
Michael tapped his foot, his finger tapping at his chin while he thought. “I came out looking for some kind of insight. I knew something was off, but I didn’t know exactly how.” He shook his head. “Maybe if I led them away…have one or two shoot back here on their own?”
Roger held a hand up to stop him. “No, man, that wouldn’t work. He’d catch on and it would only take one of the weaker ones to turn on you…the whole thing would be shot to hell before it got started.”
Michael nodded. “You’re right.” He looked at the smaller man and growled. “I’ll have to kill him.”
The Command Duty Officer stood outside of the quarantine room and stared through the porthole glass. “Are you certain?”
“We tested his blood. There is a viral load, but it’s slight.” The young woman sighed and handed him the chart. “There wasn’t any physical changes of note after he was attacked, so we cleared him.”
The CDO looked over the chart then handed it back to her. “Is this a death sentence, doctor?”
She shook her head. “He was infected by a test subject that was nearly in full remission.” She tucked the chart under her arm and peered through the window. “He doesn’t have blood pooling in his eyes and he isn’t running a temperature. Yet.” She cleared her throat and pulled the officer from the door. “I’d like your permission to start him on the treatments that Dr. LaRue pioneered. I think the circumstances warrant their use, and by catching it early, I honestly believe he can make a full receovery.”
He raised a brow. “That isn’t already protocol?”
She shook her head. “They’re still experimental treatments, sir. But it’s really the only thing we have available.”
The man sighed and glanced back through the porthole glass. “It’s the only option?”
She nodded. “At the moment, sir. But that’s not to say that Dr. LaRue won’t return and be able to develop something better.” She slowly blew her breath out. “We just can’t predict how long that might take. He may not have time to…” she trailed off.
“Time for what?” He turned and faced her. “Are you saying the version he has is fatal?”
She shook her head. “We can’t know how much brain damage is caused from the infection. If it goes into full-blown infection, he could lose everything that makes him him.”
The CDO closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.
