Roger’s face fell. He studied the man to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. “Say again?”
Hatcher nodded slowly. “Look, man, I gotta do something.” He put his hand on Roger’s shoulder and led him back into the house. “I need somebody in charge here while I’m gone.”
“You’re leaving? For reals?”
Hatcher nodded. “I can’t shake this feeling that…a good friend is in trouble—”
“Where? I’ll go with you and—”
“—Back at the park.” Hatcher shook his head. “And this is something I need to do myself.”
Roger sat down quietly and stared away. “I’m not getting good vibes from this plan, bro.” He shook his head then looked up at him. “Dude, we’re just now starting to piece this place together, and we need our fearless leader here to oversee it all.”
Hatcher leaned against the wall and eyed Roger carefully. “If it was Candy, what would you do?”
Roger’s eyes widened. “You know what I’d do.”
He nodded. “And that’s why I gotta do this.” He pushed off the wall and fell into the chair opposite. “I have to know. One way or the other.”
Roger felt his mouth go dry and he fought the urge to yell. “Hatch…how many millions of acres is that park?”
“I know.” He held his head in his hands and sighed. “But I have to try.”
“The cure’s been out for a little bit now. What’s to keep your friend from making her way home?”
He shrugged. “No idea.” He lifted his head and Roger noted the red forming around his eyes. “I can only go back to where I last saw her and pray that she’s still there.”
“Why would she stay?” Roger threw his good hand in the air. “Even if she survived, why stay at the park?”
“Look, she knows the stations, she knows where the emergency rations are stored. She has clothes there and water and…” He sighed and fell back in his chair. “I know it’s crazy.”
“You know Vic is gonna flip shit, right?” Roger gave him a stern stare. “She’s going to expect me to stop you.”
He shook his head, a slow smile forming. “As if you could.”
“No shit.” He pointed to his shoulder. “If it weren’t for this bum wing and the laws of physics, I’d be unstoppable. But the fact remains there are real living people here who need you to run this place.”
“Actually, no.” He came to his feet slowly and gave Roger a deadpan stare. “Between you and Will, I know that the people here will be taken care of. If Candy steps in and helps, you’ll all be better off anyway.”
Roger jumped to his feet. “Bullshit.” He stepped in front of him. “I can’t let you do this.”
Hatcher raised a brow at him. “You really gonna try to stop me?”
“Hell no.” He stepped aside. “But I can say, ‘I can’t know that you’re gonna do this.’ You have to write a letter to Vic, and not let her know that I know.” He blew his breath out hard. “I might get to live if you do it that way.”
“You telling me you can keep this under your hat?”
He scoffed and turned away. “How soon are you wanting to leave?”
“As soon as I can pack a bag and supply a truck.”
Roger rubbed at his jaw. “You’re gonna have to travel light. And find something that gets good mileage. You can’t be stopping three times a day to siphon gas.”
“I’m not taking a motorcycle.”
“I was thinking more like a small, four wheel drive. Maybe a Subaru or something.”
“Then help me find one of those baby Jeeps.”
“You’re really gonna do this.” Roger stared at him. “You’re gonna drive all the way back up there just to see if you can find her.”
Hatcher placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “I have to try.”
“Here.” Carol slapped the printout on the table and Andre picked it up. “If I’m reading that right, there’s no viral load in the saliva.”
“What about the other samples?”
She shook her head. “They’re all returning negative.” She shrugged. “So far, anyway. There are a couple more that aren’t ready yet, but as of now…” She trailed off.
Broussard sighed and set the printout down. “We may have dodged a bullet.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “If they could have passed on this secondary rage virus…”
“I know.” She patted his shoulder then slid her hand down his back, rubbing. “It’s a huge weight off our shoulders.”
“Still.” He sat up and looked to her. “We can’t tell what percentage of the population is at risk.”
Randy Carlson appeared by his side and dropped a stack of folders on the table. “From what I can gather, none of them have any commonalities in their health history.”
“You’re positive?”
He fell into the chair next to him and nodded. “Other than childhood vaccinations, there’s nothing common between all of them.” He raised a brow at him. “And before you go chasing the vaccinations down a rabbit hole, consider that 99% of the American populace has had the same inoculations.”
Andre sat back and sighed. “Then it must be our treatment.” He looked up at Carol and shook his head. “There must have been an issue with the sterilization procedures—”
“Or maybe the damned thing mutated on its own,” she interrupted. “Regardless of the ‘how’ we have to deal with the now.”
“The more we scratch off the list of possibilities, the more it points to a mutation event.”
“And that was our initial assumption,” she replied.
He nodded slowly. “But that leaves us with the widest range of variables, as well.” He leaned back and stared at the subjects trapped in their cells. “How do we combat another mutation? And how do we deal with the possibility of yet another mutation?”
“First we isolate the virus. If we have to draw blood to do it, then we draw blood.” She groaned as she tried to imagine dealing up close with the infected. “Maybe we sedate one and strap them to an examination table?”
“Fine.” Broussard stood
