“Gotcha.” Hatcher pulled out a chair and sat down. “You lock the door here?”
She nodded, unashamed. “There were more of them running around than I cared to deal with. I sealed the place off, blacked out the windows and kept my head down.”
Hatcher crossed his legs and studied her. “This is ground zero, you realize that, right?” He watched her nod as she began to dig through her cabinets. “I have a feeling you might be immune.”
Missy glanced at him, her brows raised. “I never had direct physical contact with them. I wasn’t bit or scratched so I—”
“It became airborne,” he stated flatly. “Spread all over the world.”
She slowly set the can down and turned to him. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “It’s estimated that eighty-five percent of the population was either dead or infected.” He raised a brow at her. “That was the last word I’d heard, anyway.”
She felt her legs grow weak and slowly sat in the chair at the dinette. “That’s billions of people.”
He nodded and sat forward. “I met a woman who was immune. She’d been scratched.” Their eyes locked and he could tell she wanted to ask. “I got her to the CDC. No idea what happened after that, but…” He trailed off, a slow smile forming. “It wasn’t too long ago that they started releasing a cure.” He gave a slight shrug. “I’m guessing that she helped them find it.”
“Wow.” Missy’s voice was soft and low. “So, it’s over now?”
Hatcher sighed as he leaned his head back. “I wouldn’t say that, though it’s improving. Unfortunately, now something else has popped up that’s just as bad.”
Missy groaned. “Great. And what is it this time? Godzilla come out of the ocean and start radiating everything?”
Hatcher snorted as he shook his head. “No, there’s another kind of…” He looked at her. “Snapper.”
“Oh. Joy. A new and improved version. Just what we needed.” She scoffed. “Let me guess, these can’t be killed or they’re bulletproof or…” She trailed off. She tried to make light of it, but her mind was incapable of considering something worse than what had already happened.
“No, they’re about the same as the others.” He crossed his arms and blew his breath out slowly. “But they appeared out of nowhere. We had a couple of guys in our compound get it. My sister thinks it might be a side effect of the cure.”
Her brows rose and she stared at him. “A side effect?” She spoke slowly. “And here I thought all of the ridiculous pharmaceutical commercials were bad with their endless list of side effects. I’d take that anal leakage any time over becoming a Snapper.”
Hatcher laughed as he came up from the recliner and pulled out the chair opposite her. “You have an offbeat sense of humor. I can see why Mitch hired you.”
She smiled as she recalled their late night talks. “He was really something. Just when I thought I’d heard everything, he’d come up with something off the cuff and have us both laughing.”
Hatcher nodded solemnly. “I miss him, too.”
She took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to him. “So, tell me about your friend. Shelly?”
He nodded and leaned forward. “We were together investigating…something. I don’t recall.” He sat back and had that faraway look in his eyes. “She got scratched. The next thing I knew, she just ran off.”
Missy stared at him a moment. “Probably to save you from herself.” She seemed to snap out of her reverie and smiled. “If I were to guess.”
Hatcher shrugged. “If she knew what was happening to her, then yeah. It’s more than likely.”
“I’m sorry.” Missy stood from the chair and reached for the canned goods. “I haven’t seen anybody running around in a ranger uniform.”
“That’s okay.” He sat back and crossed his legs again as she began to open the cans. “I promised myself I’d either find her or try to find her remains. She deserves a decent burial.”
Missy froze and slowly turned to him. “I…may know where you could look.” She swallowed hard. “I mean, if you really think she could be dead.”
Hatcher sat up, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
She set the can down and turned to him. “I came across a gully…a rainwater wash. There were a lot of dead Snappers there.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I only remember because I thought it was odd that they’d lay their dead out in one area. Like a graveyard.”
Hatcher’s eyes widened. “Yeah, that is…odd.” He looked up at her. “Where is it?”
Miss Winegard walked tentatively through the steel blast doors and tugged at the hospital scrubs she wore. “They wouldn’t let me get to my own clothes.” She glanced back at the female guards and the anger in her eyes was obvious. She turned to Broussard, “Why can’t I wear my own clothes?”
He extended his arm and walked her back into the lab. “It’s just a precaution, I assure you.”
“A precaution?”
He sighed as he pulled the acrylic door shut. “In the event that our treatment isn’t permanent. You wouldn’t want to ruin your nice wardrobe, would you?”
She grunted as she walked past him. “I look like a janitor. I’d much rather have my Prada.”
“All in due time,” Carol replied as she ushered her deeper into the lab. “If you’d sit on the exam table…”
Ms. Winegard cringed and shook her head. “I was filthy when I was on there.”
“And it’s been cleaned and sanitized, taken care of the moment you left.” She gave the woman a confident nod and ushered up onto the table.
“Why can’t I go back to my own room?”
“We have tests to run,” Tammy stated gently. “We’d like to get some blood.”
Deborah pulled her arm tight to her chest. “I saw the bruises up and down my arms from the last times you drew blood.” She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman.
Tammy sighed and cupped her hands together. “The bruises are only because you were struggling violently.” She
