“A prison?” Her voice indicated she wasn’t joking.
Simon shook his head. “Too cold.” He sat up slightly and grimaced as his arm throbbed. “We need a home.”
“A NICE home,” she added.
“The nicest.” He gave her a knowing look. “We need to find where people like lawyers and judges lived. You know. They’d have some kind of security measures in place.”
Lana nodded her head. “And they’d be nice.” She slowed the car and gave him a confused look. “How do we find a judge’s house?”
Simon shrugged. “I would say look in a phone book, but I don’t think those have been printed in years.” He rubbed at his chin. “Check the courthouse?”
She laughed as she pulled the car back onto the road. “Why not?” She goosed the accelerator. “We’re going to court!”
24
“Increased heart rate, respiration…their adrenal system must be on overload.”
Hatcher squinted at Vicky. “So, they’re infected?”
“I would say no, because they don’t exhibit the outward symptoms of a Zulu.”
“I know they haven’t lost their hair or gone pasty, but they sure act like Zulus. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
Vicky shook her head. “But there’s no blood pooling in their eyes.” She leaned back and sighed heavily. “I mean, I suppose it could have mutated, but…” she trailed off.
Hatcher rubbed at his eyes. “And the cure is in the air.” He waved with his hands. “Obviously. We have Zulus stepping out of the woodwork and they act cured.”
Vicky’s eyes widened. “Danny, I just had a horrible thought.”
“When it comes to this damned virus, I think all thoughts are horrible.” He groaned inwardly. “Hit me.”
“This will sound out of left field.”
“We’ve been dealing with raving bands of cannibals for the last seven or eight months. Hit me with your best shot.”
Vicky leaned closer, her voice low. “What if it’s the cure?”
Hatcher blinked at her. “Come again?”
“What if…somehow, the cure is affecting some people differently? Rather than inoculating them from the rage virus, it’s…I dunno…infecting them.”
“With what?”
“Who knows?” She threw her hands up. “A different form of the virus? I have no idea what they used to create the cure. If they used dead versions of the original virus like they do with some other vaccines, then maybe the virus wasn’t as dead as they thought?”
“Good lord,” Hatcher gasped. “So instead of curing the Zulus, they end up infecting everybody else?”
Vicky shrugged. “Danny, I have no idea. Even if the CDC were here and explaining what they did, I probably still wouldn’t understand it completely. I’m just a trauma nurse.”
Hatcher groaned as he sat back, his head leaning on the back of the chair. “So…for all we can tell, those two guys are infected. Regardless of their outward appearances, they’re most likely infected.”
Vicky nodded. “With something. They don’t have blood pooling in the whites of their eyes, but all other indications point to them being Zulus.”
“Great.” Hatcher sat forward, fighting the urge to curse the gods. “Just fucking great.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”
Hatcher shook his head. “I think I knew it before we ever talked.” He turned to face her. “Even if it’s not the original virus, then it’s something similar enough that they act the same, except the cure isn’t working on them.”
She nodded. “Didn’t you go with them to find samples of the original virus?”
Hatcher nodded. “And we got it. As far as I know, anyway.”
“Then my guess is that they used that original virus as the basis for the vaccine. They killed it off and found an airborne delivery method to inoculate the population.”
“Except they’re also infecting some of the few survivors.” He looked up at her. “Best guess…how long do we have?”
“Excuse me?”
“The rest of us? Those of us who were never infected. How long before we go dark, like they did?”
She shrugged at him. “By all rights, there were plenty of others who were exposed to the strep before those two guys were. Nobody else is showing signs of aggression.”
Hatcher raised his brows. “So, you’re saying that it may only be a small portion of the survivors who are…susceptible?”
“I can’t say for sure on anything. They could have had a genetic predisposition to the cure, or they might have harbored the original virus and it was only triggered when exposed to the cure or they could have—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” He stood slowly and tried to think. “I could really use another cup of coffee right about now.”
“Or a whiskey sour.”
Hatcher snorted a quick laugh. “Yeah. Either would work.” He paced Vicky’s small office, his gears spinning. “So what should I tell the others? You know how rumors are around here.”
She slowly shook her head. “That’s entirely up to you. Anything I might tell you is pure supposition at this point.”
“Great. Thanks, sis.”
She smiled up at him. “I aim to please.”
Hatcher stared out of the glass of her office door and slowly shook his head. “I need more answers.”
“Right now, we all do.” Vicky slowly stood and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I don’t see either of those men coming back. And if they do, could we trust them to stay non-aggressive?”
Hatcher shook his head. “Not after what I witnessed.”
“You need to deal with them. Whatever method you think is best.”
He turned and gave her a hopeful look. “Could you put them to sleep?”
“To sleep? Do you mean like Mr. Sandman or like Old Yeller?”
“Like a…vet.”
“No.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “Even if I could cook up the cocktail, I wouldn’t use it.”
“It would be easier to tell people that they died in their sleep.”
She raised a brow at him. “A bullet to the head will do the same thing.”
Hatcher scoffed. “You lied to me.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t aim to please. You aim to pass the buck.”
“Goodbye, Danny.” Vicky opened the door and shooed him out of her office. “Good
