“So make our own little town within the city?”
Hatcher nodded. “Kind of. I’m thinking maybe we could set up a central area for Vicky to do her thing. Maybe we find a place with enough ground that we could either all start our own gardens or maybe set up a community greenhouse like we have here.”
Roger nodded. “And a place for the kids to get together and play. Or maybe even go to school.”
Hatcher nodded. “That’s the idea, anyway.”
Roger slowly smiled. “That sounds cool.” He glanced out of the office window and shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Hatch. This place was a godsend. And it still is. I just…”
“I know. It’s not really a home.”
Roger chuckled. “It could be.” He shook his head as he imagined his perfect place. “It’s just not what I envisioned when I thought of having a family.” He swallowed hard and looked away. “Again.”
“I understand. Believe me.” Hatcher sighed. “If I hadn’t been afraid of being rejected…”
“What?” Roger asked.
Hatcher shrugged. “I was just remembering someone. There was a special lady for me once. We were coworkers and I never got the nerve to ask her and…”
“And now it’s too late?”
Hatcher nodded. “She was one of the first to fall to this damned virus.”
“I’m sorry, Hatcher.”
He sat up straight and cleared his throat. “Don’t be.” He sipped his coffee and set the mug down. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” He looked at Rog and gave a false smile. “But if she were still with us, I wouldn’t want to try to raise a family here either.” He glanced out at what they’d built and smiled. “Trust me. I totally understand.”
“We’ve just gotten communication from NORAD.” The duty officer seemed overly excited. “We thought that it had fallen just after the president was evacuated from the site, but apparently they were able to regain control.”
“Why didn’t they contact you before?” Broussard asked, his curiosity more than piqued.
The yeoman stepped forward, holding out his clipboard. “They just recently were able to restore enough power to broadcast a message over any distance.” He glanced at the duty officer. “If it hadn’t been for our message about the cure, they might not have even attempted.”
“So what does this have to do with us?” Carol asked cautiously.
The duty officer handed her a redacted message. “They still have some CDC personnel there and they’d like to look at your work.” He smiled at her. “They want to meet you.”
“Please forgive my ignorance,” Broussard started. “But why? What’s done is done. There is no undoing it.”
The duty officer averted his eyes. “Your, uh… colleague? Dr. McAlester?”
“What of him?” Carol asked.
“They want to see what you have.” He gave her a hopeful look. “They want to see if there might be a way to curtail those effects in the population, should it occur.”
“How would they know about Dr. McAlester?” Broussard asked, his defenses rising.
The yeoman stepped between them and cleared his throat. “That would be because of me. When we first made contact with them, they asked for all of the data to go over it. I may have…uh…mentioned Dr. McAlester and what happened to him.”
Broussard took a deep breath and let it out slowly as his mind tried to wrap around the situation. “And if they happened to find a ‘work around’ to the problem…that would mean that Dr. McAlester might have been saved, correct?”
The duty officer grew increasingly uncomfortable. “That is a possibility.”
Broussard nodded slowly. “So, my requests to spare him for just such an occasion…”
The duty officer nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t my decision, doctor.”
“Of course not.” He spun and stepped away, fighting the urge to curse the men.
“When would we leave?” Carol asked.
The yeoman handed her an envelope. “How fast can you pack your things?”
Simon sat quietly in the car as Lana drove towards the pharmacy. He finally sat up and looked at her. “Why would you say ‘cut off my arm?’”
She glanced at him as she maneuvered around parked cars. “What?”
“Why would you suggest cutting off my arm?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m no doctor. But it looks bad. Like, maybe even gangrene. If it is, you’d have to lose the arm. Otherwise it could kill you.”
Simon glanced down at his wounded arm and stiffened. “Cut it off?” He swallowed hard. “Can that be done?”
She gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, today. Now. Without doctors and surgeons and shit. Can it be done?”
She shook her head slightly. “Battlefield surgery; but I have no idea. Let’s not dwell on that, okay? We’ll get you as many antibiotics as we can carry and you just take as many as you can without shitting your guts out. If they don’t kill off the infection, nothing will.”
“Without shitting my guts out?”
She nodded. “Really strong antibiotics can do that. They mess with your intestines or something and can give you the screaming mimis.”
“Then we need to get toilet paper too.” He muttered.
“Antibiotics can also make birth control stop working.”
He stared at her open-mouthed. “I don’t think that’s my main concern at the moment.” He sighed as he sat back, his mind worrying. “I think I’d take getting pregnant over losing my arm.”
She snorted at the joke and shook her head. “You wouldn’t enjoy it.” She glanced at him then down at his lap. “Can you imagine pushing a water melon through a soda straw?” She snorted again and Simon scowled at her.
“It’s bigger than a soda straw, thank you.”
She burst into laughter and slapped the steering wheel. “Oh my god…that’s what you zero in on when I mention pushing a watermelon out?”
“It’s not funny,” he pouted.
“Sure it is, sweetie.” She grinned at him then slowed the car, pulling into the parking lot. “I just get a kick out of how your mind works sometimes, that’s all.”
“It’s MUCH bigger than a soda straw.” He continued to glare at her.
She came around to his side of the car and closed the door for him. “I’m sorry,
