Hatcher’s eyes widened and he held a hand up. “I have to let folks know what we found and set their minds at ease.” He glanced at Candy and saw the red around her eyes. “I’ll, uh…catch up with you later.”
He marched down the hall, doing his best to put as much distance between the couple and himself as he could.
Broussard said nothing on the return flight. He exchanged knowing glances with Carol on occasion and fought the urge to engage in conversation with the soldiers. When the helicopter landed he quickly made his way below decks and back to the laboratory.
Carol was on his heels the entire way and once the door was sealed she began to peel the tactical gear off. “Can you believe that? He all but admitted that the military doesn’t even want to bother trying to cure them.”
Broussard fell into his chair, the added weight of the gear bottoming out the pneumatic spring. “Oui. I can believe it.” He pulled the helmet off and let it drop to the deck. He gave her a sad look and shook his head. “They are content, perhaps pleased, to rebuild society with a fraction of the population.”
Carol threw her helmet across the room and let it bounce off the metal cabinets. “That’s bullshit!” She ripped at the Velcro fasteners and lifted the heavy vest off her shoulders. “There’s no way to bring ‘society’ back. The numbers are too depleted.” She tugged at the boots and slipped from her chair and fell to the floor, which only angered her more.
“The best they could hope for would be to scavenge for resources that are available.” He wiped a thick hand across his face and propped his elbows on the table. He held his face in his hands and sighed heavily. “Perhaps they could attempt farming. Perhaps they could bring back some manufacturing, but something tells me that we will all be living in the dark ages.”
Carol tossed the last of the gear to the corner of the lab and came to her feet. “More like the 1800s.” She cocked her head toward the door. “They still have their guns. It would be the Wild West all over again.” She blew her breath upward, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just with a much smaller population, and…” Her eyes grew wide. She turned to Broussard and shook her head.
“What else troubles you?”
She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Those with the power make the rules. We know this from history.” She cleared her throat nervously and stared at him. “How many women have you seen aboard this ship?”
Broussard shook his head. “Not many. Why? What is it you fear?”
Carol swallowed hard and gave the door a furtive glance. “Every society depends on one thing to survive…children. With men outnumbering the women…what? Ten to one? Twenty to one?”
Broussard groaned as the realization struck. “Survival of the fittest.” He leaned back in his chair and began to tug at the fasteners. “We have to find a way off of this ship.”
Carol blew her breath out nervously and tried to wet her dry lips. “I doubt we will convince the captain to let us go ashore again.”
Broussard placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We are two of the brightest minds aboard this vessel. If anybody can dream up a viable excuse to go back out there, it is we two.”
Carol nodded nervously. “Maybe for the next application? We could tell them we need to get a head count…to try to get an idea of the surviving Zeds? We’d need a way to assess our ability to bounce back from this, right?”
He held a hand up, calming her. He peeled the last of the gear off and dropped it to the floor. “Oui, but we have problems to work around.”
She gave him a confused look. “Like what?”
“Like how we plan to get past the assigned guards that will surely be placed with us once we go back out there.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “We need to be cautious, but thorough.”
Her face paled as she stared at him. “I don’t know if I could…”
“Relax.” Broussard stood and reached for his labcoat. “We have time to make our plans.”
Her voice quivered as she spoke. “I hope you’re right.”
Simon slowed the big truck and stared through the windshield. “Fuck me…I’m too sober to remember where we left those stupid bulldozers.” He leaned back and sighed, his bourbon bottle empty in the floor.
He eased the big diesel out onto the roads again and looked either direction at each intersection, hoping that something would stand out to him. He drove street to street, his eyes constantly scanning for any familiar landmark.
“This is such bullshit!” He slammed his fist down on the top of the steering wheel, his frustration blinding him. He mashed the accelerator and shot up the block, his eyes still searching each building he passed. He slowed for the next intersection then slammed on the brakes.
“Well hello, beautiful.” Simon smiled as he turned the steering wheel and drove up the block. He pulled the big truck up over the curb and parked on the sidewalk outside the liquor store he had raided. “Maybe a little hair of the dog, eh?”
He hopped down from the lifted truck and pushed his way into the store, his pistol waving about in front of him. “Anybody want to get dead?” He stood silently just inside the door and listened for movement.
“That’s okay. I’ll just make myself to home.” He walked down the aisle with the whiskeys and bourbons and grabbed at random bottles. He set them on the counter then reached for a small cardboard box to stack them in.
In the light of the doorway he held up one of the bottles and grinned to himself.
