“There are still people,” Miller pleaded. “Once they’ve been exposed to the cure, they’ll—”
“They’ll what?” Broussard interrupted. “Be like that Kelly woman we met out there? Be like the man who was gunned down? Or be too simpleminded to find food, like the group that we gave the MREs to?”
Miller trembled as he leaned across the workbench. “No, they’ll eventually remember. Their survival instincts will kick in and they’ll find what they need.”
Carol sighed as she sat across from Broussard. “From what Kelly told me, she remembered what she did as a Zed.” She searched their faces for understanding. “If she hadn’t been so cold inside, she might not have been able to deal with the consequences of surviving the virus.”
“We’ll get them help,” Miller said. “We’ll find them and—”
“We can’t even be certain where they are.” Broussard interrupted. “And you saw how frightened they all were. Do you really think that they’ll trust armed men to actually help?” Broussard sighed and lowered his head to the table. “The team leader wanted to leave them be. He didn’t care that they were starving.”
“But now we know that the cure is working. Once I brief the president, he’ll set up an emergency plan to deal with these things.”
Carol gave him a dumbfounded look. “Who will actually implement this plan?” She scoffed as she came to her feet. “The people on this boat? The other boats? There’s what…maybe a couple thousand people out here? There could be potentially be millions of survivors out there.” She sighed as she took her seat again, her energy drained. “Andre is right. Even if we had the resources—”
“Which we don’t,” Broussard interrupted.
“Right. But even if we did, we don’t have the manpower.”
“People want to survive,” Miller stated flatly. “That’s why they did what they had to out there.”
Carol shook her head. “They did what they had to out there because they were infected with a rage virus. This isn’t a case of the Donner party. People didn’t attack and kill each other because they were starving.”
Broussard noted how she’d left out “eat” from her argument. He cleared his throat and stood slowly. “As I’ve said before, one problem at a time.” He motioned toward the chiller. “We have samples from your lady friend and from Kevin…er, Dr. McAlester. We need to isolate the mutated DNA and find the chink in its armor. If there’s a possible way to combat the mutation, then we must try.”
Miller gave him a questioning look. “Do you really think that’s necessary? The percentage of the population that will be affected by the mutation is small compared to the total number cured.” He gave him a tight lipped smile. “Nature will prevail.”
Broussard nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“That’s the place.” Simon pointed to the wrought iron gates bent and barely attached.
“Looks like somebody tore the hell out of your entrance.”
Simon cocked his head, his memories still fuzzy. “I’m not sure, but it might have been me.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I think I was in a hurry.”
“No doubt.” She turned into the gated community and accelerated up the hill. “Which house?”
“Go to the last street and turn right. It will be all the way at the end and on the left.”
She could see that the road ahead continued a bit farther; houses lined on either side, but then turned at the last road. “This one?”
“Yeah. That yellow house down there.”
“They’re all yellow,” she deadpanned. “Or tan.” She shook her head. “All of this Southwest dirt color. So drab.”
Simon noted that the garage was still open and it appeared that things were just how he had left them when he’d made his escape. “I don’t think anybody’s been here since I left.”
She wrinkled her nose at the trash in the yard and the garage. “I guess the maid quit.”
Simon gave her a sheepish grin. “It was just me and a few other guys. Nobody was really into the whole ‘cleaning’ thing.”
He shut the door of the truck they had taken and walked through the garage. He bent low and picked up a bottle from one of the boxes of liquor. “This was the good stuff.” He handed her the bottle and walked to the door leading into the house.
“I get to dump it all, right?” she asked as she fell into step behind him.
He winced slightly then nodded. “If that’s what you want to do.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked into the gloomy house. “But if we take it with us and run into other people, it could be good stuff to barter with.”
She set the bottle on the counter and followed him. “Right, because the other liquor stores in the country will all be sold out.”
He paused and considered her argument. “Okay, you have a point.” He turned and walked into the kitchen. “We had left some food in…ah.” He reached into a box and pulled out a can of chili. “Again, the good stuff.”
She glanced at the label. “Hormel?” She shook her head as she rifled through the contents. “That stuff is gross.”
“Don’t you remember the commercials? Home made or Hormel?”
“Proof that there’s no truth in advertising.” She lifted out a canned ham. “At least there’s some edible protein.”
He chuckled as she set it on the counter. “I thought you’d be sick of that stuff by now.”
“It beats a can of Montezuma’s revenge.” She walked past him and stepped into the dining room. “Christ, what happened here?”
“I got shot.” He leaned against the counter. “That’s where they sewed me up.”
She gave him a look he couldn’t read. “What are you? A bullet magnet?”
He shrugged then winced. “Is it too early for another pill?”
“If you eat something. I don’t want you barfing on me.” She held her hands out and gave him a satisfied smile. “I’m squeaky clean.”
He rolled his eyes and turned back to the kitchen. He scooped up a package of flavored crackers
