“Well,” said the thing on the other side of the table, clearly nonplussed at the lack of reaction. “I was expecting everyone to be a bit more impressed, I suppose.”
Higgins took calming breaths, his mind buzzing with anger like a hive of bees that’d been poked, doused in water and then, to add insult to injury, taunted.
“My dear sir, whatever is the matter? You appear… winded,” said the thing, speaking clearly, eloquently and directly to Higgins. Higgins bared his teeth in what he hoped passed for a smile.
“Old,” he said, his voice calm.
“Nonsense!” said the thing. “You appear quite fit.” It bounced up and down on its toes, trying to be chipper and friendly. Higgins did not appreciate the effort at affability.
“Oh, dear, forgive me, I have failed to introduce myself,” the thing said. “I am the Baron. And you must be General McNabb.” His hand twitched; he was accustomed to offering it in welcome but appeared reluctant to do so now. Higgins couldn’t blame him. While he was still upright and in better condition than the zombies Higgins had seen in the last couple days and certainly more magniloquent, but his hand was greying and beginning to scab. McNabb didn’t offer his hand for the shake.
“Yes, I am,” the general acknowledged. “And I must ask… what on earth is going on here?” His voice was cold and commanding. “This is my base and I did not authorize… this.” He made one, all-encompassing gesture that left nothing in the room out of “this.”
“My apologies, General,” said a voice behind them that sounded about as apologetic as a hungry snake. “I’m Doctor Irons, and I’m afraid that I didn’t have to ask your permission.”
They turned to see a man standing in the doorway. He was tall, with a long thin face and unnerving blue eyes. His tight smile held all the warmth of a walk-in freezer in the Arctic.
“And what exactly does that mean?” McNabb asked, unimpressed.
“It means my clearance is higher than yours,” Irons replied. He didn’t sound smug or condescending. He was merely stating fact.
Higgins unclenched his fists. So this was Irons. He wanted nothing more than to twist the man’s unfeeling head until he let Shavian go but he maintained his calm. He couldn’t just smash her out of here and run.
“Well, we’ll see about that. In the meantime, please explain to me what is going on here, and what that is doing on my secure base.” He pointed at the Baron.
The zombie cocked his head at McNabb. “My dear sir, there is no need to be rude.”
McNabb glared at him. “With all due respect, I disagree. I’ve done nothing but battle an infestation of whatever you are for the last three days and-“
“General,” Dr. Irons interrupted. “The Baron is not like the zombies you’ve encountered. And this-“ he gestured at Shavian’s prone body “-is a test. This young woman might hold the key to the cure.”
Higgins’ jerked his head around to stare hard at the doctor. The cure? He thought Shavian might be the cure to this… this affliction? If she was… Higgins couldn’t stop himself from considering the ramifications of that. Could he turn his back on the whole rest of the world to save Shavian? Could he ever possibly betray every other living soul, every child and mother and father and grandfather out there that was still alive, that had managed to survive this far? Could he end their lives to save hers?
He glanced down at Shavian. She looked so small and vulnerable. Another little girl flashed through his mind, a girl who was gone now. Higgins blinked back untimely tears at the thought of his own daughter.
Questions and answers flipped through his mind like a ghastly Viewmaster. Could he risk the whole world to save Shavian?
What he said was, “Yup.”