Two Alive, стр. 59

Outside in the parking lot, Manson stood waiting, watching the slow moving freaks stumble about in small numbers. He could probably count them all on one hand, give or take one or two. Lincoln came crawling out first, then Torrez followed, and before either of them could stand up, the scientist was bombarding them with questions.

“Where is it? Where is the body? How compromised is it?” Manson was scanning the lot and pushed his glasses up on the ridge of his nose.

“What?” Lincoln scratched his head in confusion.

“Where is the body?”

Torrez pointed and Manson went sprinting in that direction; the two soldiers followed, watching the infected cautiously. When the scientist got to Bates’ body he recognized the head scarf and dropped to one knee to examine the body closely. He saw the scratch or scrape on the arm and the bullet wound to the head and the scientist sucked his teeth. It would’ve been incredible to have a live host to study. Manson put down his leather duffle bag and opened it, pulling out his sample kit and a pair of gloves.

“This is amazing. To have a specimen so early in the stages of infection.” Manson whispered to himself.

“Shouldn’t we take the body inside the building? Maybe give him a proper burial or something?” Torrez said, shaking his head and feeling sorry for Bates.

“No. I don’t need the whole body.” Manson glossed over the question, not really paying attention. He stabbed the injured arm of Bates with a syringe and pulled out as much blood as the vial could hold. He took a small knife and cut around the scar to remove the skin tissue and placed it in a ziplock bag. Then he took a cotton swab and stuck it in Bates’ mouth, gathering saliva before placing the swab in its own vial. “This is enough. Thank you, gentlemen. Your help wasn’t exactly necessary but nonetheless, I appreciate you’re ever protecting presence.”

After putting all his equipment away and preparing to take his gloves off. Manson stood and turned back towards the store. The two soldiers watched him start to leave but delayed as they tried to lift the body from the ground. Manson glanced over his shoulder, annoyed with the two men’s stalling. Then he saw Dr. Chakrabarti approaching with his medical bag in tow.

“It’s fine. I’ve already gathered my samples. The body can stay out here. No need to overexert.” Manson was carefree with his words and pushed his glasses back on his face.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get my own samples.” Chakrabarti shook his head at the emotionless scientist who scoffed at him as he passed. “Did you get one from Anderson’s body too?”

Manson perked up and spun around. “Anderson? He was infected too?”

“If you had been in the monitor room with the rest of us, you would’ve known this.” When Chakrabarti reached the two soldiers he took over carrying Bates’ body to give Torrez the option to protect them with his weapon.

“Where? Where is Anderson?” Manson asked and Torrez pointed.

The scientist looked and saw the distorted remains of Anderson’s body nearby. He moved so abruptly that Chakrabarti wasn’t even able to suggest that Anderson may have been too far gone to examine. The scientist wasn’t listening anyway. Manson made his way over to Anderson and stood over the corpse. Lincoln called out to him and Manson quickly reached down to grab a handful of guts and remains before a lumbering freak got nearly close enough to grab him.

“What the hell are you doin’ Manson?” Torrez lifted his weapon, but the freak was so slow that killing it wasn’t worth the ammo or the noise.

“That’s Doctor Manson.” The scientist corrected the soldier and pulled off his rubber glove, folding it over the remains to bag the pieces; being careful to hold it with his other gloved hand. “Beautiful.” Manson said as he admired the baggy and looked back at Anderson’s corpse. A faint whiff hit the scientist’s nose and he turned away; sure that Anderson had soiled himself when he died. Manson took off when the freak lurched at him again.

Back inside the store, Carver was making his way to the food court with the two brothers; their wrists tied with zip ties. Antonio wasn’t very happy about this, but Carver still shoved them along, down an empty aisle; all the items either moved or used up. The boys were dragged through the store and led to the food court where people were sitting at the tables waiting and eager for an explanation. Lesly was coordinating with servers and passing out plates of BBQ baked beans. It was early for dinner, but she figured it’d be the best way to get everyone to relax. It worked too. Many people were chowing down and distracted by Lesly’s bright plum smile while she went around trying to make sure everyone was taken care of. She was ever the dutiful store servant.

When the major reached the center of the food court—where Lesly was standing over a punch bowl of baked beans from four large cans that had been cooking earlier—Carver shoved the boys down to kneel in front of the table where the food was being served.

“How’s everyone doing Lesly?” The major asked, and, although Lesly prepared to answer him, his question was more meant for the audience, who were ready to respond.

“What the hell is going on Major Carver?” one man stood from a table.

“We heard gun shots and horns outside?” A second man spoke up.

“Are the monsters still outside?” A woman’s voice joined in.

“Who are these kids?” The next voice shouted.

Carver raised a hand, quelling the rising questions. “Everyone please, please. There’s two important points that you should be informed on that will mostly answer many of your questions.” The major circled around to see