“Especially if they feel responsible for a loved one,” Hatcher added.
“Exactly.” Candy turned sad eyes to Roger and gave him a tight lipped smile. “But this is beyond either of us, Hatch.” She turned to face him. “We need a professional. A counselor or something.”
“I already went through all our people’s files; none are even close to qualified for something like this.” Hatcher lowered his face. “I have no idea what government resources might be available, but I doubt there would be enough to deal with all of the infected.”
A sentry pushed open the door to the infirmary. “Hatcher! We got another problem.”
He spun in his chair and came to his feet. “What’s going on?”
“A couple of guys lost it and started attacking people.” The sentry’s face was pale as he spoke. “They won’t be reasoned with.”
Hatcher was on his feet and headed to the door. He quickly spun and nodded to Roger, “Just think on it. See if you can come up with anything.”
The pair watched him disappear into the hallway. Roger looked up at Candy. “I think I liked them better when we were at war.”
Candy patted his hand. “It was a lot simpler.”
“A dog and pony show,” Broussard grunted. He glanced at his guard. “Can you believe that?”
The guard nodded slightly. “Cake eaters. They think that they have to hand out medals and certificates every time somebody below them successfully wipes their ass.” He shrugged. “It makes them feel accomplished to recognize others.”
Broussard considered his statement and smiled. “Quite profound.”
The guard shrugged again. “I told you. I’ve seen a lot of things.”
Broussard turned back and watched as the pier drew closer. He watched as men prepared lines to throw overboard. He leaned to the side to get a better view of the dockside. “There’s nobody to receive those big ropes.”
The guard shook his head. “The ports have been empty for a while now.” He seemed to sigh a bit as his face fell. “We’ve lost contact with a lot of bases.”
Broussard turned his attention to the man. “Really? How many?”
The guard seemed to grow uncomfortable for a moment before he glanced to either side and lowered his voice. “Most all of them. No radio contact. Last reports were less than hopeful.”
Broussard lowered his face and closed his eyes. “We were too late.”
“No,” the guard stated flatly. “We should have responded differently.”
Broussard looked up at him and his face was stone. “How so?”
The guard looked down at him and his eyes were angry. He kept his voice even, but the frustration was still evident. “We should have killed any Zeds that came within a hundred yards.”
Broussard’s brows lifted. “They didn’t?”
The guard shook his head slightly. “From what I’ve been told, they were ordered to use less than lethal force.” His jaw ticked as he spoke. “Just in case you found your cure.”
Broussard felt his chest tighten. “So, because they were counting on a cure, they ordered their men not to kill if attacked?”
The guard nodded slightly. “You didn’t hear that from me.”
Broussard felt his knees weaken and he braced himself on the side of the hatch. “I can’t believe…” He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “They sacrificed themselves to try to keep the Zeds alive.”
The guard nodded. “Civilians.”
Broussard squeezed his eyes shut then suddenly stood upright, his shoulders squared. “So, even more people died because we weren’t quick enough.”
The guard placed a hand on his shoulder, catching Broussard off guard. “No. You did what you could in the speed you could.” He nodded toward the dock with his chin. “Anything that happened out there, is on the higher ups.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“You should.” The guard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “If they had allowed the soldiers to kill the Zeds when they attacked, the others would have figured out quickly that attacking the bases was a stupid idea. The military would still be alive but more of the Zeds would be too.”
Broussard turned his attention back to the docks and watched as men hurried across a metal platform and rush to tie the lines. “Looks like we’re docking.”
“You should get below. Things will get really busy, really fast up here.” He opened the door and ushered Broussard inside. “We’ll just be in the way up here.”
“We’ll still be allowed off the ship though, right?”
The guard nodded. “When the time is right.”
Simon grunted as he pulled the t-shirt over his wounded arm. “You’re moving a bit easier today,” Lana said.
He gave her a weak smile. “Only because we have a date.” He shot her a wink.
“I don’t think that house hunting can really be considered a ‘date.’”
He turned and gave her a surprised look. “Considering that the movies aren’t playing and there aren’t any restaurants to take you to, I think house hunting counts.”
She gave him a comical stare. “I guess that makes me a really expensive date.”
Simon snorted and pulled his pants up, doing his best to buckle his belt one handed. “The world is yours, my dear.” He turned and gave her a lopsided grin. “Want jewelry? Furs? A new Porsche? It’s yours.”
“Ooh, big spender.” She stepped closer and grabbed him by the belt buckle. She stared directly into his eyes as she tugged the belt tighter and buckled it for him. “Have you made up my mind yet?”
He gave her a confused look. “About?”
“Are we staying here or are we going to hit the road?”
“That is entirely up to you.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “You choose, I follow.”
She raised a brow at him and nodded. “Let’s shop around and see what this town has to offer. If we don’t like it, I hear the coast is nice this time of year.”
He gave her a slight bow. “Which coast?”
“Either. Both.”
23
Hatcher stared in total disbelief as the two men growled and snapped at each other, their faces a mask of pure outrage. Each had a pair of sentries sitting on them, holding them at bay, their
