Roger walked her inside and she looked around, tears forming in her eyes. “I remember…”
Hatcher led her to a couch and glanced at the photos on the wall. “Your family?” He lifted a family photo and handed it to her. Although she was missing most of her hair and probably half of her body weight, he could see a resemblance to the mother in the picture.
“Yes.” She sobbed as she clutched the picture frame to her chest. She began to rock back and forth as her sobs turned to wails.
Roger gave him a concerned look. He pulled Hatcher aside and whispered, “I’m going to check the rest of the house.”
Hatcher watched him disappear around the corner then heard him jog up the stairs. The woman continued to wail, pressing the frame so tightly that Hatcher feared the glass might break. “Easy now.” He reached for the photo and pried it from her grip. “You’re home now. It’s all going to be okay.”
She shook her head and continued to rock on the couch. “No…it can’t be okay.”
Roger appeared at the foot of the stairs and gave Hatcher a look he couldn’t quite read. He slowly closed the distance and whispered in his ear, “Somebody made a meal of the rest of the family.” He pointed toward the ceiling.
“Sweet Jesus,” Hatcher groaned. “We can’t leave her like this.”
“What do we do?” Roger asked. “Take her back with us?”
Both men turned to find the woman standing, her eyes wild with anger. “OUT! Get the hell out of my house!” She began snatching knickknacks from the room and launching at the men. “Get out of my fucking house!” Her voice broke as she screamed and both men ducked as they darted for the door.
She chased them out to the overgrown and brown front lawn, screaming as they trotted back toward the truck. “What the hell?” Roger asked as she slammed the door.
Hatcher threw his hands up and groaned. “I’m guessing the cure works.” He gave Roger a cautious look. “They’re starting to crawl out of their holes.”
“And remembering,” Roger added as he reached for the door handle. He gripped the key and paused. “I wonder if they’re remembering what they did?”
Hatcher sighed as he sat back in the seat. “Let’s hope not. Nobody deserves that level of hell.”
“If I can’t observe the subjects in real time, can we get video? Maybe set up remote cameras?” Dr. Broussard asked, his voice betraying the urgency he felt.
“I think you burned all of those bridges when you went AWOL,” the yeoman stated as he scribbled on his clipboard. “But I’ll talk to the skipper and see if there’s anything he’s willing to order done.”
“You really are just a tool, aren’t you?” Kevin asked as he kicked up from his chair. “A tiny little yes man to whatever the fatheads want.”
“Excuse me?” The yeoman stared at him as Kevin slowly crossed the lab. “I don’t think you understand how things—”
“I think it’s you who doesn’t understand,” Kevin interrupted. “This man came up with the cure for all of humanity and all you little fuckers can do is think of ways to make yourselves seem…larger.” Kevin looked down on the smaller man and shook his head. “It’s really pitiful.”
“I’m just the messenger.”
“Obviously.” Kevin pushed past him and opened the door of the lab. He pointed to the armed guard assigned to shadow Broussard. “Why don’t you beat it? It’s not like he’s gonna jump ship and SWIM to shore.”
The guard stared at him impassively as Broussard pulled him back and gently shut the door. “Dr. McAlester, what has gotten into you? This behavior is—”
“Completely appropriate considering the circumstances,” Kevin finished. He pointed to the yeoman. “He’s just the messenger. Apparently, the king can’t be bothered to speak to us lowly peons. Even though one of these lowly peons SAVED THE FUCKING WORLD!”
“That’s enough!” Broussard chastised. He turned back to the yeoman. “My apologies for my colleague. He’s under a lot of stress ever since the body was discovered in his room.”
The yeoman stared at Kevin cautiously. “Understandable. Considering the circumstances.”
“If you would please relay my request to the captain, I would greatly appreciate it.”
The yeoman eyed Kevin again before he wrote something else on his clipboard. “I’ll let you know as soon as something is decided.”
Broussard gave him a curt nod as he left the lab then turned his attention back to Kevin. “What was that all about?”
“The man. Still keeping us down.” Kevin flopped back into his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. “I’m just tired of it.”
“You are not acting as yourself, Dr. McAlester.”
Kevin huffed and pushed up out of his chair. “Fine.” He pushed past the older researcher. “Maybe my blood sugar is off. I’ll go see if there’s any more recycled dog food on the mess decks.”
He threw open the lab doors and disappeared down the hallway.
As soon as Kevin was out of sight, he worked his way across the ship toward his old stateroom. He saw the yellow tape crisscrossed over the door and paused. He listened intently and saw no movement, so he slipped toward the door and tested the knob.
The door pushed open and Kevin grimaced at the mess left behind. Dark smudges covered everything and most of his meager belongings was strewn across the deck. His eyes instantly settled on his bed; the rumpled covers looked just as he had left them.
He swallowed hard and took another glance down the hallways before ducking and stepping inside. He quickly stripped the bed and stuffed everything into his duffle bag. He also grabbed his toothbrush, deodorant and shaving kit. He scooped up a couple of pairs of socks, underwear and a change of clothes from the
