“I’m sorry we can’t be of more assistance.” The man stepped forward, his hand extended. “I’m Doctor William Benedict, by the way. I am, or I was, a virologist with the University of Colorado.”
Broussard stripped his rubber gloves and took the man’s hand. “Andre Broussard. Geneticist.” He pointed to Carol. “My associate, Dr. Carol Chaplain.”
“Pleasure.” Carol nodded to him. “We could have used your help on the ship.”
“Ship?” William asked.
“Long story,” Broussard replied. “We developed the original cure onboard a ship in the Pacific.” He sighed and motioned toward the infected. “There were unfortunate side effects of the cure.”
“We think it mutated in vitro,” Carol stated as she draped a labcoat over the woman’s shoulders. “These subjects weren’t infected with the original virus. We announced that a cure was being dispersed and the people locked up in this mountain went out for a breath of fresh air.” She pointed to the woman on the table. “They were exposed to a mutated form of the cure.”
“And it caused this?” Benedict asked. He leaned closer and examined her physical condition. “How long has she been infected?”
Broussard shook his head. “I can’t be certain, as we weren’t here, but I would assume a few weeks.”
“Can they transmit their form of the…madness?”
“That’s the problem,” Carol stated as she came to her feet. “We can’t find any source on her skin, but we can’t really test her saliva or blood.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“It transmutates with every test we attempt,” Broussard replied, “and fights off every reagent we administer.”
“Remarkable,” Benedict whispered. “In vivo?”
“In vitro,” Carol replied. “We still have samples, if you’d like to take a look.”
Broussard stiffened slightly and gave her a puzzled look. “Are we inviting people off the streets to assist now?”
Carol scoffed. “At this point, I’ll take advice from anybody. The fact that he’s a virologist doesn’t hurt.”
“Who is this man and why is he in my lab?” Higgins screeched.
Andre turned and nodded to the soldier outside. “Remove him.”
“I will NOT be—” He struggled against the soldier’s grip. “Hey! This is my lab!”
“Not anymore,” Broussard stated firmly as he shut the door. “Please, Doctor; continue.”
Benedict watched as the little man was dragged away. “Do I want to ask?”
Carol shook her head. “The story is far too long and the short answer is, ‘no.’”
He nodded as he leaned down and pressed his eye to the ocular on the microscope. “Remarkable.”
Simon’s eyes popped open and his hand slapped to the side of him, reaching for his gun.
“Looking for this?” Trent asked, holding the pistol up in the moonlight. “Not tonight.”
Simon fought the urge to scream as he was forcibly dragged from his bed. Lana cursed as she snapped awake and saw the struggle.
“Don’t even think it, zombie bitch,” Trent stated firmly. He cocked Simon’s pistol and pressed it to the smaller man’s temple. “You’ll stay nice and quiet and we’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“What are you gonna do to him?” she asked, her hands balling into fists.
“Nothing,” Trent replied. “Not here, anyway.”
“Why not?” Lana sat up and pushed herself to the edge of the mattress. Her hand dragging along the side of the bed and noting her shotgun was missing.
“We don’t want to stir up the locals.” He smiled in the darkness and increased his grip on Simon’s throat. “We’re gonna let ‘em sleep like babies.” He tsk’d and shrugged. “Of course, when they wake up and realize that we’re large and in charge, things will change.”
“They won’t stand for this,” she shot back.
“Don’t worry your little bald head about it,” Trent scoffed as he began to drag Simon back through the RV. “I’m not into zombie poon, but Jake and Tommy will stick their dicks in anything.” He laughed out loud as he continued to drag Simon backward.
Simon gripped Trent’s arm with both hands, his wounded arm throbbing as he tightened his grasp, praying to hold on as he was dragged backwards. As soon as the pair turned and Trent started to take the steps backwards, Simon dug in his heels and kicked, throwing the pair back and out.
They landed with a loud ‘huff’ and Simon drove the elbow of his good arm as hard as he could into Trent’s ribs. The man cursed and actually squeezed a round from Simon’s pistol with the pain, dropping it as it discharged.
As quickly as he could, Simon spun in the large man’s grip and pummeled him about the face and neck, throwing as much of his weight as he could into the throat punches.
He heard Trent gurgle and both hands flew to his throat as Simon redirected the volley to the large man’s nose. When he heard the cartilage crunch and Trent’s eyes squeezed shut, Simon rolled to the side and scooped up his pistol, swinging it in a quick arc, searching for Tommy and Jake.
“Where are they, shitbag?” Simon barked, kicking his heel into Trent’s ribs. “You’re not brave enough to sneak in here on your own.”
Trent rolled to his knees and cupped his ruined nose as he continued to try to forcibly suck air into his lungs. “Down…” his voice sounded hoarse. He sucked air again. “Down the…” more air, “…mountain.”
Simon came to his feet and walked behind the large man. He pressed the pistol to the back of his head and peered into the darkness as lights began to pop on inside the various campers. “Step out into the light or I swear to Christ, I’ll blow his fucking brains out.”
Simon pulled the hammer back and pushed Trent’s head forward, forcing him to all fours as he continued to try to breathe through his rapidly swelling trachea. “I’m not playing, assholes. Step into the light. Now.”
Simon strained to listen and heard the distinct sound of somebody moving through the brush. He snapped his head around and caught Jake and Tommy slipping
