Buck opened the mailbox and pulled out the dried and brittle envelopes. “Mathew Rainey?”
The old man slowly nodded. “Yeah, that sounds right.”
“But is that you?” Hatcher asked.
The old man slowly walked to the front of the house and reached for the doorknob. He paused and turned back to the two men. “I can’t do it.”
“Who is Mathew Rainey?” Buck asked.
Hatcher stepped past him and opened the door. “It’s unlocked.” He poked his head into the dark house and called out. “Anybody here?”
He didn’t hear any screams or hoots, so he pushed the door open completely, washing the entryway with light. Buck appeared beside him, shotgun at the ready. “I’ll clear right.”
Hatcher reached for the pistol on his hip and slipped to the left. They went room by room, clearing each as they went. When they met back at the front door, the old man was standing in the living room. He was staring at a picture on the wall.
“Who’s that?” Buck asked.
“I think that was my son.” He reached for the photo with trembling hands and removed it from the wall. He brushed a finger across the young man’s face then clutched it to his chest. “My granddaughter lived here, too.”
He practically fell to the couch and sobbed. Hatcher rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you remembering now?”
The old man nodded then set the photo aside. “Mattie and Darla lived here.” He looked up at Hatcher with red eyes. “Their daughter was Holly.”
“Do you remember your name?” Buck asked softly.
The old man nodded. “Nick.” He came to his feet and wiped at his eyes. “Nicolas Rainey.” He turned slowly and took a deep breath. “My wife’s name was Doris.”
“Do you remember where you lived, Nick?” Hatcher asked.
The old man nodded. “Four blocks that way.” He pointed out the front door. “Mattie was thrilled that he’d found a house so close to home.”
Hatcher held a hand out to him. “Let’s get you home. At least get you some clothes.”
The old man allowed them to lead him to the front door then he turned and took a long look at his son’s home. “Do you think they made it?”
Hatcher sighed heavily and gave him a shrug. “I honestly don’t know, Nick.”
Buck pulled the door closed as they walked back out to the truck.
Carol cried into her shoulder for the better part of the trip. Dr. Broussard patted her arm in solace. She turned and looked up at him. “What good is a cure if we can’t help them after they transition?”
“There are plenty of untapped resources out there still.” He pointed out to the cityscape zipping past the windows. “There are a lot of places people can get food, clothing, water…first things first, chéri.”
She did her best to compose herself and swiped at her cheeks. She sat up and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That’s so unprofessional of me.”
“You are human. You can’t help but feel their pain.”
She looked up at him again. “How many do you think are like that man? Like Kevin was?”
Broussard sighed and sat back in his seat. “I wouldn’t hazard a guess.” He glanced to Miller. “How many would you estimate?”
Miller shrugged. “Maybe one in a hundred? One in a thousand? If the ratio is anything like what we detected in the vats themselves, then it could be even more rare.”
“Believe me, chéri, I had no idea that the treatment was capable of mutating. Especially so quickly.”
“You said that it acts like a frontal lobotomy?”
Broussard shrugged. “The symptoms, not the actual infection.”
“So it would alter their personalities?”
Miller sat forward, “Or their perception of reality. We really aren’t certain.”
“But you’re positive that Kevin had this mutated form?”
Broussard closed his eyes and nodded. “We recorded his behavior. You can go through the journals when you are ready.”
She sat back and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d rather not see what I did to him.”
“We,” Broussard corrected. “You weren’t alone in that action.”
She set her jaw and shook her head. “It was all me, Andre. You know it and I know it.” She turned to Miller and squared her shoulders. “I was the one who exposed Dr. McAlester to the cure.”
Miller nodded gently. “I’m not judging.” He set back and gave her a soft smile. “Rather than beat yourself up over this, you should be proud. You two saved the vast majority of humanity.”
“What’s left of it, you mean,” Broussard whispered. He nodded toward the window. “The few who are left don’t look like they will survive long without assistance.”
“I’ll speak to General Vickers and the president about that very thing once we return.” Miller crossed his arms over his chest and gave the pair a broad smile. “Overall, I’m quite pleased with how this trip turned out.”
Broussard raised a brow at him. “We didn’t get the field data we were hoping for.”
Miller nodded toward Carol. “Of course we did. And we got blood and tissue samples.”
Broussard glanced at Carol then back at Miller. “Do you think it’s enough to create a field test?”
Miller shook his head. “I think what we witnessed is enough of a field test.”
Broussard shook his head. “Remember the test subject, Kelly? If we hadn’t seen the DNA profile, we’d not suspect that she was exposed to the variant.”
“True, but she wasn’t exactly frothing at the mouth and trying to eat us either, now was she?” Miller smiled at him. “I think the need for a field test has just proven itself unnecessary.”
Simon grunted as he fought with the warm bottle of water. “I can’t.” He handed it to Lana and wished he could turn water into wine.
“Your arm hurting?”
“Like a bitch.” He accepted the bottle from her and sucked down nearly half of it before stopping to cough. “I’d kill for a good pain pill right about now.”
Lana dug in her pants pocket and pulled out a pair of the hydrocodones. “I may have palmed a few before we left.”
Simon chuckled
