Page 67 of Night of the Living Manny
He sat all the way up, looking around carefully.
No Liam. A half dozen plus bodies, but no dark-haired, stressed-out scientist.
They’d taken him.
Since none of the bodies were moving, Brenden rummaged in the glove box, finding a bandana there. He thought he’d remembered seeing it. He tied it over his nose and mouth, knowing he had to make sure the Hummer hadn’t taken any bullets.
Then he had to get gas and get home, and…. Something was on the ground. A vial.
“Oh God. Okay.” He had to go back and dig in the car again, coming up with a plastic bag. He had no gloves, so he picked the thing up like a dog turd, pulling it into the bag inside out so he didn’t touch it. “I get it, Liam. I swear, I’ll keep the kids safe.”
Even if Susanna might kill him for letting her dad get captured.
God. God. How was he going to…. He firmed his lips. This was his job, his calling. He was the nanny.
Those kids were his mission, and by damn, he wouldn’t let them down. He wrapped the sample up in more bags, then tucked it into the back seat. Time to get that gas, since the zombies all seemed to be dead.
Then he had to face the kids.
Chapter Eight
LIAMached. Every bit of him, but they didn’t have his babies or Brenden. He could ache. They hadn’t beaten him badly or anything, but they hadn’t been gentle. Now he was sitting in a windowless room, waiting to be interrogated. Again. Honestly, he was just waiting for them to put him in a lab and tell him to fix it.
He thought he could, even, but he wanted to be treated like one of the good guys, not a traitor. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
The door opened, and a uniformed man with a shit-ton of ribbons and brass on his jacket stomped in, looking grim. “Whitehouse?”
“Indeed. You are?” He let himself be icy cold. They’d worked to stop this for years.
“General Dane Collins. Look, your lab guy screwed us all royally, and then it became a clusterfuck.”
“My lab guy? I wasn’t the goddamn boss. I was the team leader, but I wasn’t the suits. Who paid him off?” He didn’t really care who they blamed, but he wanted to know what was what.
“I just meant your assistant. Fuck if I can remember his name.” The general waved a hand. “I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit what the big brass want to use this for. I’m a man of the people and my soldiers. What we need is a fucking cure. Can you do that?”
God, did he trust? Did he not? Fuck. “Yes. I’m close. I can do it. I need to run another test.”
“I can get you samples. That we got in spades. Jesus, these fuckers, trying to weaponize this shit.” He got a sharp look. “I hear you were all resistance, man.”
He wasn’t going to answer that. He wasn’t stupid. Hopeful, not stupid.
“Well, whatever, if you can give me something I can use, I’ll have your back.”
“I want this disease flattened. I want it eradicated. I want to know why it got out.”
“So do I, buster. But I also know we’ll be lucky to keep it contained until we can do that. Give me something. Something to reproduce.”
“Give me a computer and access.” Give me a chance to let my people know I’m safe.
“I can do that. We have a lab set up for you. There’s a small bedroom area and a bathroom. You should wash up.”
“Works for me. I’ll look around and let you know what I need. I want this over. Now.”
“I hear you, son.” The general seemed real, but who knew? He could be good cop. Hell, he could have an off switch somewhere. He could be not military at all. Liam just wanted to get to his family.
Liam took a deep breath, but he followed the corporal who came to get him to the new lab. It was cobbled together, but it had a sterile field that was separate from the living arrangement and all the equipment he would need.
The first thing he did was to wash up; then he booted up the computer. He had a totally benign email he could send to an address that would scatter that message to a dozen places, one of which would find his family.
