“They match.” It was more a statement than a question.
Broussard gave her a nod. “Nearly identical. The variances could be due to any number of things. A different mutation, environmental factors or even contamination.”
Carol gave Kelly a sad smile. “I guess it wasn’t just you.” She looked away. “Sorry about that.”
Kelly hung her head and nodded. “Once again, I’m nothing special.”
Broussard stood upright and turned to her. “Quite the contrary, my dear.” He turned to Miller. “Depending on her personality type prior to exposure to the cure…”
Miller nodded as he came to his feet. “Genetic lobotomy.” He turned to Kelly, a bit more excited. “What were you like…how would you describe yourself prior to the initial infection?”
“I was a bitch,” Kelly stated flatly. “Just ask Doctor Ponytail over there. Hell, I’m still a bitch, right, doc?”
Miller looked to Carol for answers but didn’t find any. “Were you prone to violent outbursts?”
Kelly shrugged. “Nothing worse than keying a guy’s car.” She averted her eyes. “Or maybe putting sugar in the gas tank.”
One of the soldiers groaned. “I had an ex do that once.”
“Cut the chatter,” the team leader barked. “Man your station.”
The soldier turned and grimaced. “Dude, it was a classic.”
The team leader glared at him and the soldier suddenly stiffened, his attention back to the front doors.
Miller sighed and gave Broussard a defeated look. “I have no idea. Perhaps.”
“What are you two talking about?” Carol asked.
Broussard laid out the theory that the mutated cure acted much like a frontal lobotomy, changing the personality of those who were exposed.
“Since the Dr. McAlester we knew was a sheepish and timid man, it changed him into a bloodthirsty killer. Theoretically, it should have an opposite effect on somebody who was already violent.”
Carol turned to Kelly and studied her as her mind considered the possibilities. “What about somebody who isn’t either? Somebody who is kind of stuck in the middle of being timid and violent?”
Kelly sneered at her. “You mean a bitch, right? I already admitted to that.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow at her. “Why do you think I ran off those other two women? I’m not sharing the food in here with those two.”
Carol’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”
“I ran them off.” Kelly smirked at her. “The window was closed so I spoke softly to them so you couldn’t hear. I told them that you wanted to chop their heads off and examine their brains. That you were crazy and thought you could ‘release their demons’ if you could poke around in their heads.” Kelly smiled and it didn’t reach her eyes. “It helped sell the story when you stood up there and waved at them with that stupid scared look on your face.”
Carol pushed away from the counter and turned to Broussard. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are. We can take my research with us.” She turned to Kelly. “I have blood and tissue samples. We won’t need her.”
“That’s good,” the team leader stated, “cuz she wasn’t going back with us.” Broussard stepped forward, ready to protest when the soldier turned and faced him. “If she’s ready, then I suggest you get packed. No sense in pushing that time window, doc.”
The expression he wore told him that it wasn’t a request.
She tugged at the last of the thin fishing line and tied it off. Simon winced and glared at her. “That really fucking hurts.”
“It’s the best I can do on short notice.” Lana bent low and bit the fishing line in half. “There.” She stepped back and stared at her makeshift stitches. “Let’s get it cleaned up and wrapped.”
Simon wished again that the owners of the house had been drinkers. He could really use a shot of something strong to deaden the throb in his arm. He tried to ignore her as she dressed the wound again and wrapped the same ACE bandage on it.
“There. All done.”
He struggled with the oversized t-shirt he had found but got it over his head. “Give me a hand?” She stood back and clapped her hands three times. “Funny,” Simon said. “Now get this thing over my head, will ya?”
She slipped his wounded arm through the t-shirt. “There ya go, big guy.” He took a moment to catch his breath then turned for the door. “Let’s move. Maybe we can find a—” He froze in the doorway. “Woah. Hold up.” Simon grabbed Lana with his good arm and pulled her back into the house. “Look.”
She followed his pointing arm across the parking lot and to the front of the grocery. She watched two armed men walking out of the store. “Are those your cagers?”
Simon squinted in the morning sun and shrugged. “I can’t be certain from this distance, but I’d bet money it is.” He gave her a sad smile. “Who else could it be?”
She searched his face. “You don’t look like you want to rush over there and kill them.”
Simon leaned against the living room wall and really thought about it. Slowly he shook his head. “I guess I don’t.” He looked down at her and gave her a crooked smile. “All I really remember is…hating. Hating them for everything. Taking my people. Humiliating me.”
“Not now?” she asked, her voice soft and low.
He looked down at her and shook his head. “No.”
Her painted-on brows scrunched as she tried to figure him out. “What changed?”
Simon tried to think about it. “I don’t know.” He slumped against the wall and couldn’t give her a rational answer. “When I think about what I really want? All I can picture is you and me. Either out on the open road or…”
“Or what?” Her eyes narrowed.
He turned and looked inside the house. The family pictures still hanging on the walls, the bright colored curtains, the easy chair and the big screen television; it painted an image of a classic American home. “This.”
Lana’s face couldn’t hide her surprise. “Seriously?”
Simon gave her a slight nod. “Would
