Hatcher slowly sat back down and gave her a confused look. “And you think that if everybody had their own place…”
She shrugged. “Maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to help out. If it doesn’t directly affect them…why care?”
He shook his head. “I think you’re wrong.”
She sighed as she came to her feet. “I hope that I am. But on the off chance that I’m not, you need to be prepared to deal with the problems that crop up.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she had already turned and was walking out. Hatcher sat back and sighed.
“She may be right,” Roger stated softly. “Don’t misunderstand, I get the whole ‘commune’ thing.”
“Your point?” Hatcher asked, unable to keep the aggravation from his voice.
Roger smirked. “You realize that commune and communism are related words, right?”
“Don’t start politicizing—”
Roger held a hand up to stop him. “I’m not dragging politics into this, I promise. What I’m saying is that, in its purist sense, communism is sorta what we got going on here.” He raised a brow at him. “From each according to his abilities, to each according to their needs.”
Hatcher ground his teeth. “Again, your point?”
Roger sighed and sat down where Vic had been. “Look, Hatch, the very same reason that it doesn’t work as a political ideology is the same reason it won’t work long term on people, even on a small scale.” He sat forward and gave him an understanding smile. “Consider this…everybody has their own place. One guy is good at plumbing; another isn’t. If the guy who needs plumbing work done can’t convince the other guy to help…then what?”
“They sorta have to. That’s the point of working as a team.” Hatcher shook his head. “This isn’t communism.”
“But it is.” Roger hooked his thumb towards the lobby. “All those guys out there, they’re working to secure their future, right? Theirs and their families. But once they are on their own…then things start to change.”
Hatcher groaned. “Please, continue.”
“All I’m saying is, be prepared to deal with the ‘haves and have nots’ issues. Person A is butthurt because person B has more. Or gets more.”
“Everybody gets the same according to their…” Hatcher stopped himself and sat back, the light bulb clicking on. “I’m starting to see what you mean.”
Roger nodded. “I’m not saying that this will crop up immediately, but it will eventually. It’s human nature, man.”
“Despite the fact that we’re supposed to be in this as a team…somebody will eventually want more.”
“Human nature.”
Hatcher drained his coffee cup and glanced around the office. “I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee to deal with this.”
Roger gave him a goofy grin and came to his feet. “You don’t have to deal with it right now. And when the time comes, I’m sure you’ll have an answer.” He stepped toward the office door and paused. “I’m just saying that, in her own way, Vic has a point. If you want to move us all to nicer digs, go for it. I’m with ya a hundred percent. Just be prepared for what will inevitably come.”
Hatcher sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Understood.”
“You don’t have to say it. ‘Don’t tell Vic she was right.’” He grinned wider. “I think she already knows.”
Dr. Punch sat back and stared, astounded, at the printouts. “And you’re certain that this new variant is from a mutated form of your cure?”
Carol shrugged. Broussard nodded. “I am.” He pulled the results from Kevin’s samples. “Dr. McAlester was the first exposed. Even in the first batches, there was a small variant of mutated strains of strep. That was all it took.” He exhaled loudly as he leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut. “What I cannot be certain of is whether the mutated form made up the majority of what he was exposed to, or if the mutated form was somehow able to overwrite the genetic changes that we engineered into the cure.”
Dr. Punch nervously tapped at her front tooth with the end of a pen. “And until we know for sure…”
“We can’t engineer a cure for the cure,” Carol concluded.
“We also need to know if the new rage virus is transmittable,” Broussard added. He glanced over his shoulder to the people trapped in the acrylic cells. “I can’t even begin to consider what vectors we could utilize to test the hypothesis.”
“Test subjects?” Dr. Punch asked nervously.
Broussard nodded.
Carol noted the look of fear in Tammy’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard and pushed away from the workbench. “I’ve heard rumors,” she shook her head nervously, “that Dr. Higgins may have allowed personnel from the base to be utilized as test subjects.”
“Human testing?” Broussard asked, astonished.
Tammy nodded slowly. “A lot of military men came up missing. And,” she hesitated, “rumors were that failed test subjects were terminated.”
Broussard glanced to Carol and she shook her head. “We can’t allow—”
“Of course we cannot allow that,” Broussard interrupted, coming to his feet. “What kind of place were they running here?”
Tammy squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Once the primary researchers were…infected, and Dr. Higgins placed himself as lead at the lab, in essence, he had the general’s ear. Anything he wanted, the general gave him, hoping we’d find a cure.”
Broussard’s eyes narrowed at her. “But you and the others had no ‘need to know,’ according to the weasel.”
She fought the urge to smile. “Correct. We were given specific tasks but not told anything in detail about the nature of the experiments.” She shook her head. “Every rule of research, he intentionally broke.”
Broussard growled low in his throat. “I think I need to speak to this general. If he is okay with human test subjects, perhaps we can start with Higgins.”
Carol gave him a stunned look. “Andre…”
He waved her
