Mission Cure

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - M:FAC/3 - Clare

CLARE

The first thought that went through Clare's mind was - good. Of all people, Dr. Cohen deserved to get the sickness. The next thought wasn't remorse for her previous thought, either. It was simply that he wouldn't be a lot different as a mindless, selfish Zombie.

After all, this was the man who kicked her cat at the Christmas party when he thought nobody was looking.

"We have to get back to the Hull!" Spencer was saying again and again. "We have to get back to the Hull now. Let's go!"

Clare could only stare down at the man at her feet. She couldn't just leave him there. What if the oncoming horde came stampeding down the hallway? What if they crushed him? What if they left her very best friend in the entire world for dead? It would be her fault.

Adrian was pushing her forward, but she resisted.

"We have to take him with," she told him.

"Take him with?" Adrian asked, pausing in his attempt to get her to move.

Spencer turned back around. "Take who with?"

Clare glanced down at the man.

"No, no, no," Spencer told her. "Take him back to my apartment? Not a chance."

"What if they kill him?" she asked.

Spencer screwed up his youthful face in disbelief. "So, what if they do?"

"We don't have time!" Adrian gave her another shove, but she resisted.

Instead, she leaned down and grabbed the man's shirt. If anything, she would drag him back to the Hull herself. But Adrian must have felt pity for her as he watched her struggle - as the army of cannibalism drew closer. He sighed loudly and leaned down to help.

Just then, Cohen's voice called down the hall, asking them to wait, begging them. In the startling voice of someone not yet infected.

"Is he..?" Checking more closely, Clare saw that he wasn't lumbering along mindlessly like the crowd behind him. He was dragging one leg and hopping with the other as he stayed barely ahead of his pursuers. His wide eyes were panicked.

Adrian lugged the man off the floor and tossed him over his shoulder with a grunt. Clare could see that the weight was nearly too much for Adrian, but he grit his teeth in determination and took a step toward the Hull.

Cohen continued to shout for assistance, but all they could do was urge him to run faster. Especially Spencer, surprisingly. The General was suddenly very concerned about saving someone. He even waited behind the group until Cohen got close enough, then he took the doctor by the arm and helped him along.

With Adrian in the lead, they walk-jogged back to the Hull - just fast enough to stay ahead of the pack until they entered the General's personal quarters and the door slid closed, separating them from outstretched arms.

Richard was out of the bedroom in a flash. "What happened? Did you figure anything out?"

Adrian lay the man on one of the sofas before falling into a chair himself. He pulled out his phone.

"What is this!?" Richard squeaked out. "You brought one of them back here? Why?"

"Not just one of them," Clare said. She was staring down at the familiar face of her friend. Two decades had passed, yet he looked the same. He had the same round cheeks and blue eyes, the same curly brown hair that wrapped around his ears and fell across his forehead in a boyish way. Even being sick and imprisoned these last years hadn't aged him. She might as well have been staring at him over the lunch table senior year for all he'd changed. "How is he even here?" she finally asked, turning to look at Doctor Cohen.