The War Bird took off from the parking lot, destroying a few more zombies in the fire’s emitting from the jet-engines. Atticus turned the auto-pilot on and left the pilot seat. He walked over to where Samuel was covering Rebecca with a blanket. She was in a prolonged state of shock. Rambling on and on about her husband and the undead. Samuel rubbed her back and consoled her. Her ramblings were but crazed whispers.
Samuel looked back at Atticus and asked, “What now?"
"I'll radio back to NORAD and get our new orders.”
"I'll radio back to NORAD and get our new orders.”
Atticus walked by them and sat down at the communication
station, putting the headphones on and moving the mic attached to it closer to
his mouth. “NORAD this is Arrow 1, we
have recovered precious cargo and are awaiting orders…Over…”
“Proceed to the following coordinates Arrow 1”
“Are we going back to Cheyenne
Mountain?”
“No…” Atticus entered the
coordinates into the navigational system, “…East…”
“New York?” Samuel eagerly
predicted.
“Sorry, Doc...Hartford, Connecticut.”
Atticus was now sitting back down
in the cockpit changing course. Samuel was up and walking anxiously
back and forth in front of a confused Rebecca.
“Why are we going to
Connecticut?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel admitted,
too preoccupied with virtually flying over New York and his loved ones.
“They’re sending us into
quarantine…” Atticus tried to sort it out, “This is bad…”
“What?”
“Worse than where we just were?”
“This is really bad…” Atticus
looked back at Rebecca, “It’s her…she’s…the key to the cure…”
Rebecca pulled the blanket tight
over her shoulders and avoided Atticus’ glare. Samuel saw the blush run ramped
on her face. Atticus went on, “If the cure starts with her then it
makes sense that they would want us in the eye of the storm.”
Samuel was no fool, and catching
onto Atticus’ line of thought, “Hartford is the infection front-line…”
Atticus finally locked eyes with
Rebecca, “And you thought the worst was behind you.” Something was not right
with him, Rebecca felt uneasy when he looked at her.
“I never thought the worst
was over, not even when the love of my life rose from the dead only to attack me…”
“Your husband…was he the one with
you in the house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened, why
he turned into one of those…things…? How he got sick?”
“It was supposed to make him
better...”
Atticus and Samuel both stopped
what they were doing. She had their full attention now. Although she did not look
at them, Rebecca felt it necessary to tell them what happened. For she knew where they was going Rebecca would have to repeat the story over and over again. In the hands of the
government her relationship with Ansem will be dissected and stripped of all humanity, but right now, this conversation was her chance to tell it from
the heart.
“Ansem’s death would have been
hard enough if it wasn’t for the supplement. He created an unlicensed
antibiotic that attacked the common cold on all fronts. I checked every test
personally, it all worked, not one mistake…”
“Well you should have
double-checked it.” Atticus scoffed.
“If it was perfect, why didn’t he
bring it to the FDA?” Samuel calmly questioned.
“Ansem was as paranoid as a
conspiracy theorist, he thought they would destroy his work to save the jobs
and livelihoods of all those put out on the street after the Cleanex and Nyquil industries go under…”
“That’s insanity” Samuel remarked.
Rebecca cried. The realization of
just how foolish and blind she was rushed over her. But she forced herself to
continue her story, “….I….I um… I helped him take the full regiment of pills
even though he got worse every day. The day he died no more than five minutes
went by before he came back to life…like that…”
"So that's it then...One guy's blind ambition is another man's apocalypse."
“Do you have to take the full
regiment to turn?” Samuel tried to distract Rebecca from Atticus.
“I don’t think so.”
“Just one pill might be all
it takes…”
“Is there anything else?”
“By the time I knew what it did…”
“Don’t. It’s not your fault,”
comforted Samuel.
“You just got in bed with the
harbinger of humanity’s death,” Atticus wasn't holding back.
Rebecca threw her blanket off and
charged at Atticus, slapping him repeatedly in the chest and then in the face,
“Ansem Weather’s was a great man!”
Samuel pulled her off of Atticus.
“You said you checked his work, do you have those formulas?”
“Yes, the General told me to
bring everything.”
“What general?”
“...General... Saarsgard...”
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