Broussard pulled a crate up beside hers and sat next to her. “Try to see the bright side ma chère, there are far fewer people in here now,” he gave her a soft smile, “for when you make your PDQ mess.”
She tried not to laugh but her body was fighting the effects of an angry adrenaline rush. “These people epitomize government bureaucracy at its worst.”
Broussard nodded. “Oui. It is much the same in France.” He snorted a short laugh. “Well, it used to be.”
“Is it bad there, too?”
He nodded gently. “Oh, Oui. Very bad.”
She sighed and patted his leg. “I’ve heard estimates that the population has been reduced by as much as ninety percent.” She turned hopeful eyes to him. “Do you know?”
He shrugged. “That sounds accurate.” He slumped on his crate and sighed heavily. “It could be more, perhaps less.”
“Is anybody else fighting to find a cure?”
He shrugged again. “Many are still arguing over the origins of the germ. They cannot understand how a virus that supposedly made the Neanderthal extinct could suddenly manifest on the other side of the world.”
She nodded. “I can see their confusion.” She sat back and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Vivian once told us about a man she worked with; I think his name was Andersson.” She tapped at her chin as she tried to recollect the story. “Anyway, she said that they stumbled on the DNA in their research and eventually concluded that it was, in fact, a prehistoric virus.”
Broussard nodded. “I have heard of this. They were going to publish.”
“Yeah. Anyhow, she knew this military researcher. Somehow, they already knew about the virus. They were actually trying to find a way to weaponize it or some such.” She turned and faced him. “Vivian suspected that the virus was ancient. Like, possibly pre-Paleolithic, even. If she’s right, there’s every possibility that it once was a common bug worldwide.”
Broussard smiled as the pieces fell together. “But because it was thermophilic, it would only be active in very hot environments.”
Carol nodded. “Like the thermal vents at the bottom of the ocean or…”
“Or the thermal vents in Yellowstone.” He shook his head. “We just figured out in moments what many back home are still arguing about.”
“I don’t understand why they would argue over its origination instead of pulling together to fight the wee beastie.”
Broussard sighed heavily. “Much like Dr. LaRue’s desire to have the primordial samples, they, too, wished to know first its source in order to try and combat it.”
Carol shook her head. “We needed the primordial DNA sample because the virus has mutated so many times.”
“That’s where we find the common genetic sequence…and…” He turned and gave her an excited look.
“What?”
“Why didn’t I think of this before? You find the common genes! Exploit the COMMON genes!” He jumped from the crate and turned to the guard at the door. “Excusez-moi, but I must speak to whoever is in charge, maintenant!”
Simon shoved the last shell into the shotgun and pumped it. He sneered at the door and nodded to Shooter. “Now.”
Shooter pushed the door open and Simon flipped on his flashlight. He barely caught a blur shoot across the opening between the living room and kitchen. “Yeah, they’re in there.”
Stinky swallowed hard and glanced over his shoulder. “Simon, it’s almost dark. They sure seem more active in the dark. Maybe we should come back tomorrow and—”
“No! We kill ‘em now.” Simon stepped through the entry and scanned the area. “They’re not leaving here alive.” He motioned to Shooter. “Around back. Nobody gets out that door, got it?”
Shooter nodded then bolted for the corner of the house. Stinky watched him disappear and wasn’t sure what was more dangerous…the Ragers or Simon.
“Come on.” Simon stepped deeper into the house and motioned for Stinky to go the other direction, around the staircase.
Stinky shouldered his shotgun and had to force himself to breathe as he slowly made his way around in the shadows. He caught a slight movement and pulled the trigger, blowing a neat hole into a wooden door.
“Didja get him?” Simon yelled from the other side of the lower level.
“I-I ain’t sure.” Stinky stepped forward and pushed the door open with the barrel. He waved the barrel back and forth, lighting the room with the attached flashlight. “I don’t see nobody.”
“Don’t waste your ammo then!” Simon barked.
Stinky’s hands shook as he went room to room. He ended up in the kitchen where Simon met him moments later. “I didn’t see nobody.” Stinky whispered.
“What are you whispering for? You done shot your gun. I’m pretty sure they know we’re here.”
Stinky nodded. “Then why ain’t they attacked?” He glanced nervously behind him. “They never cared if we had a gun before. They just kept coming.”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe they finally got some smarts to ‘em.”
A sound upstairs had both men staring at the ceiling. “Guess where they went.” Simon chuckled as he made his way to the stairs.
“Wait…Simon?” Stinky fell into step behind him. “How’d they get up there? We cleared the front of the stairs and nobody got past us. You seen somebody down here and—”
“Quit yer bitchin’.” Simon barked as he started up the steps. “Just keep your eyes open and so help me, if you shoot me, I’ll skin you alive.” Stinky nodded and made sure his barrel was pointed away from him.
Simon scanned both directions once he stepped onto the landing. “You go left again.” He turned right and began checking rooms.
Stinky swallowed hard and went to the first bedroom. He pushed the door open and scanned the darkening room. The closet door was standing open and he could tell that it was empty.
He turned and slowly made his way to the next room. He pushed the door open and froze.
A small, pale child sat beside a messed up bed, her eyes wide and her hands outstretched as if
