“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.”
“Don’t keep that shit to yourself. Spill it.”
Shooter grinned wider. “I don’t suppose you know how to operate heavy machinery, do you?”
Trevor made sure that Patricia was sleeping before he slipped out of the office and made his way across the interior of the grocery store. He stood just inside the glass wall and stared out across the parking lot.
“I can’t keep doing this to her. She needs something more stable.” He sniffed back tears that were threatening, wiped at his eyes, and continued to stare across the expanse of pavement.
“I need to think of something, find someplace that she can consider home. Something that…” He turned slowly and peered back toward the office. He then spun back and stared at the empty parking lot. “Something that we can haul off all this food in. A set up where she can sleep during the day.” A smile began to cross his face. “A place that would be familiar no matter where we were.”
Trevor tried not to laugh as the perfect solution popped into his head. He nodded to himself as he turned back toward the office. “We need to go shopping for an RV.”
He slipped quietly back into the office and pulled the top drawer open on the desk, rifled through it, but found nothing. He quietly pulled out the side drawer and breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled out the telephone book.
He turned the light up on the lantern he had burning on the desk and flipped through the yellow pages. “This sounds like a fun place. ‘Aloha Baby’.” He ran his finger along the ad and noted the address. “It won’t be an easy walk, but I bet we could find this place.”
He leaned back in his seat and began to build his perfect solution. Maybe a small one. The kind that has the front end from a pickup or a van. Definitely needs a bathroom…“Generator would be nice,”
