He turned and smiled at her. “Maybe they got ‘em with tent walls that slide out to make the insides feel bigger?” He nodded to her sleeping form. “And a comfortable bed so you won’t have to sleep on any more dirty couches.”
Trevor rocked in the office chair and tried to imagine loading the RV up with as much food as they could carry out of the grocery store, stocking up on essentials like water and maybe some luxuries, like real toilet paper.
He suddenly sat up. “How will we keep the others out?” He tried to imagine the many ways that a person could stop a moving vehicle. If they were crazy, like the infected, they would launch themselves at the front or against the windows.
He nodded to himself as he reached for a pen. “Bars on the windows. Maybe a grille guard on the front…or one of those cow catchers like they have on trains.” He nodded as he sketched out his ideas.
He turned and gave Patricia’s sleeping form a smile. “I’ll give you a home, Peanut. Even if it kills me, I’ll keep you safe.”
Chapter 22
Hatcher stretched and yawned, the previous night’s sleeplessness catching up with him. He sipped at his fourth…or was it the fifth, cup of coffee. He stood in the arched recess of the main building while Hank drove a lift in through the rear gate.
“What the heck is that for?” he asked nobody in particular.
Candy startled him when she responded. “They found that when they picked up the greenhouse this morning. Roger thought it would make completing the watch tower easier.”
Hatcher nodded, seeing the logic. “We could have people standing watch up there this afternoon.” He smiled to himself as he began to feel somewhat safer. “Maybe I’ve been worrying for nothing.”
“Ya think?” Candy shot at him as she stepped into the courtyard. “Imagine that.” The smirk she gave him made him really want to flip her the bird, however, the gentleman in him won the battle and his middle finger remained politely curled around his coffee cup.
He watched as Candy helped wrap a thick nylon strap under the “fort.” Hank pulled a lever and the boom extended. Another lever brought the wooden structure up off of the ground, and a few moments later, the entire wooden play fort swung in the wind above the heavy wooden struts designed to support it.
Will directed Hank as he drove the unit into place while men shimmied up the wooden supports with ratchets. They quickly attached steel braces under the fort then bolted steel plates to the thick wooden legs.
When they finally allowed slack in the strap and the nylon sling was removed, Hatcher was surprised as the men broke into loud applause. Their joyous outburst was catchy as others stepped outside to witness their accomplishment, laughing and giving high-fives.
Hatcher hated to admit it, but even he felt a sense of accomplishment. He watched the crowd thicken as people stepped into the midday sun to witness their newest structural addition to the compound they now called home. The children seemed upset at first, then quickly began to climb the wooden ladder leading to the high rise fort.
Hatcher stepped out from the arched veranda to tell them to come down but Will was already climbing the ladder, pointing out the surrounding area to them. Hatcher stepped back into the shadows and watched as the engineer showed them the world in a way they hadn’t ever seen it. He decided it best to keep back and let the scene play out.
“Pretty nice, huh?” Vicky said as she slipped in behind him.
“They did good.” Hatcher poured out the cold remains of his coffee then crossed his arms, leaning against the cool adobe wall.
“You think you might sleep some tonight?” She raised a brow at him.
Hatcher nodded slowly. “Some.” He gave her a smirk, “Who ratted me out?”
Vicky tried not to smile at him. “A gray-headed old codger brought me a flower this morning.”
“Imagine that.”
Vicky nodded. “He was nice enough. He invited me to breakfast.”
“I hope you let him down easy.” Hatcher almost felt sorry for Coop.
“Let him down?” She gave him a wicked smile. “We’re having supper together tonight, too.” She shot him a wink as she turned and went back inside.
Hatcher stared at her open mouthed then shook his head. “Good for you, Coop; you sly old dog.”
Carol stood to the side as men in uniform carried in piece after piece of equipment. She waited nervously until one man brought in a reinforced metal container. “This one is labeled ‘reagents.’ Where do you want it?”
She pointed to the far corner. “Just out of the way over there.”
“What is CRISPR?” another sailor asked.
Broussard bounded forward. “Here! I’ll take that one.”
Carol appeared by his side. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”
Broussard chuckled. “C’est mostly enzymes and reagents.” He set the case on the table and opened it, a smile forming as he looked through the sealed tubes. “This is perfect. We can use streptococcus pyogenes just like Dr. Charpentier did.” He turned and gave her a brilliant smile.
“I have no idea where they found this stuff and I don’t care.” Carol beamed. She stood up suddenly. “Please, set the centrifuges along this wall. The thermocycler over there.” She nearly jumped up and down. “It’s like Christmas. This is really happening isn’t it?”
Broussard nodded. “By this evening we can be elbows deep in genetic splicing.”
Carol reached out and helped a man carrying the autoclave. “This is too large to handle on your own.” She grunted as they lifted it to the counter, “Thank you.” She patted the man’s arm as he walked out. “All we need now is the primordial virus.”
“Actually, we need a bit more than that.” Broussard sighed heavily as he leaned against the counter. “We have to rewrite the genetics of the primordial, infect S. pygenes, and then find a way to deliver it to the masses.”
Carol gave him a confused look. “I
