“Hide it. If he’s been staying here a while he may have memorized the vehicles that are parked out in view.”
“Garage it is.” Roger trotted across the street and tested the first garage door. When he found it locked he went to the next house. Eventually he found one unlocked and empty enough to hide the truck.
Hatcher dug through the meager things scattered about the house and noted all of the empty liquor bottles. “This asshole has a real problem.”
Roger appeared behind him. “I found a garage that’s unlocked but it’s up by the entrance to the cul-de-sac. If we hole up there we won’t have direct line of sight.”
Hatcher kicked at another empty and eyed the front of the house. “We can wait here. From the looks of things, he’s definitely a creature of habit.”
“And a drunk.” Roger pushed a whiskey bottle across the floor with his foot.
“Yeah, that’s safe to assume.” Hatcher slapped at his shoulder. “Let’s find a cool, dark place to wait on him.”
“Copy that.”
“Dr. Broussard?”
He turned to see the yeoman standing in the doorway of the lab. “Yes, come in.”
“Captain said that he was able to reach Colonel Vickers.” He set a file down on the table. “These are the specs for the frequency generator you requested.”
Broussard’s face fell. “They don’t have any available?”
The yeoman shrugged. “The colonel sent these. If there are any units available for use, he didn’t say.”
Broussard glanced at the file and shook his head. “I know nothing of electronics.”
The yeoman smiled. “Thankfully, the Navy has trained electronics technicians. I bet they can assist.”
Broussard looked up, his face hopeful. “Would you please ask them? I wouldn’t request their assistance if it weren’t imperative.”
The door opened and Carol walked in, rubbing her head. “I’ve got a killer headache.” She paused and stared at the yeoman. “Hello.”
“Dr. Chaplain.” The yeoman nodded then turned back to Broussard. “I’ll contact the best we have and see if we can’t get them up here to help.” He nodded to the pair then slipped out of the lab.
“What was that about?” Carol asked.
“The frequency generators? I asked if any were available.”
“I doubt that’s why my head hurts, Andre, but thank you.” She gave him a goofy smile.
“No, cheri, to attract the infected.” He gave her a knowing look. “Rather than pray that our treatment finds them, we attract them to one spot…” he trailed off, waiting for her to connect the dots.
She turned wide eyes to him. “Oh my god. Why didn’t I think of that?” She sat down hard and shook her head. “That’s brilliant.”
He gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I thought of it while speaking with Dr. McAlester.” He lowered his voice and gave her a knowing look. “He was very concerned for your health, by the way.”
She nodded briefly then turned and gave him a curious look. “Eww. No.” She grimaced as she came to her feet. “I need caffeine and aspirin.”
Broussard reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle of headache formula. “This will do it.” He held the bottle in his hand rather than dropping it in hers. “If your headache is simply a headache.”
“Please.” She snatched the bottle and shook out a couple of tablets. “If this crap didn’t hurt Kevin, it won’t hurt me.”
“We hope.” Broussard sat back and sighed. “And I hope that I’m not putting the cart before the horse.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m trying to develop ways to ensure the broadest coverage with the least amount of our solution and we’re still not certain if it will even work.”
She reached out and patted his arm. “It will work.” She gave him a sad smile. “The science is sound.”
“As you say.” He sat up when the door opened and two petty officers stepped inside.
“Are you Dr. Broussard?” the first man asked.
“I am.” He stood and extended a hand. “Is it safe to assume that you are the electronics experts I was told of?”
The man flustered. “I don’t know if I’d say ‘expert’ but yes, sir. We’re the lead ETs on the boat.”
“Very well.” Broussard smiled and slid the file toward the pair. “Will you please take a look at this?”
The two men opened the file and rifled through the contents. “This doesn’t look very complicated.” The first man handed the specs sheet to the other and he quickly ran through it. “It’s actually pretty simple.”
The second man nodded. “The problem will be getting the potentiometers.”
Broussard gave him a questioning look. “The what?”
They set down the papers and glanced between themselves. “There are electronic components here that we just don’t have spares of onboard.” He closed the file and gave the researcher a confused look. “What is this for?”
Broussard sighed and settled back in his seat. “The generator produces a sound, outside our hearing range, which acts like a sedative to the infected.”
The two men glanced at each other. The second man asked, “What is the frequency range?”
Broussard frowned and shook his head and looked to Carol. “Do you know?”
Carol continued to rub at her temples. “I can tell you what they were set at for Charles. But his settings were entirely different than for the original Zeds.”
“So what frequency would you set it at?”
She shrugged. “The original generators pulsed between two different settings, but they were close to each other. Charles didn’t respond until…” she paused and looked to Broussard. “It’s safe to assume that the primary infection is the original one, yes?”
Broussard shrugged. “I suppose. But to be honest, we can’t be certain if any of the mutations have reinfected the subjects.”
“Why couldn’t we simply record the sound and replay it through a loud speaker system? We wouldn’t need a generator at all, just a recording device,” the technician asked.
The two researchers looked at each other and a slow smile formed. “That sounds feasible.”
The techs smiled. “That we can do. We have CD burners all over the place. Get me a set of frequencies to work with and we’ll get you a master
