The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) by Russell Blake Page A

was told–”
    Snake took a step closer to Whitely. “Magnus is dead. I’m in charge. You have something to say, you say it to me.”
    Whitely swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing. “He was told that with this virus and our capabilities, there was no guarantee of success. That it was a long shot. Nothing about that has changed. The researchers are doing the best they can, but it may be impossible to develop a vaccine with a higher efficacy rate than what we’ve got now.”
    “He believed that the Shangri-La team would create one that worked, and that would screw us. Why was his belief wrong?”
    Whitely’s tone hardened. “We have no way of knowing whether that’s true or not. Until theirs surfaces – no, make that if it ever does – it’s conjecture, not fact. They’d have to know something we don’t to make a better vaccine.”
    “They have the girl. The Apaches told us that much.”
    “Which may or may not matter. We’re still not sure why she was of such importance. Jacob – the scientist who Magnus executed – never explained her relevance satisfactorily. She’s a question mark.”
    Snake spat on the concrete floor. “This is a failure. I don’t need to watch the rest die to know that. Nobody in their right mind would use this vaccine, with a one in four chance of dying.”
    Whitely shook his head. “Not necessarily. If the odds are a hundred percent of dying without it…”
    Snake turned away. The meeting was over. “It’s not good enough. We both know that. Don’t piss me off trying to blow smoke, or you’ll never make it back to Lubbock.”
    Whitely waited until Snake and his guards had left before he resumed breathing. When the Crew leader had vacated the building, he moved to the technicians in the room adjacent to the experiment chamber and broke the news.
    “Snake isn’t happy. Let’s watch them for another twenty-four hours to see if more get sick. Then shut it down and burn the bodies.”
    “What about the survivors?” a young tech asked.
    “There won’t be any. Nobody can leave that room alive. Poison their water tomorrow and then dispose of them. We can’t afford any leaks on the result of the experiments.”
    The tech blanched but nodded, as did his companions. They understood what they’d signed up for – most against their will, but that was immaterial. They knew the job would involve distasteful outcomes. It went with the territory of live experimentation.
    The test subjects had all been taken from the civilian population of Houston at random. They’d been singled out as troublemakers by Crew informants, and it had been as good a way as any to silence opposition. Whether in a public execution or a secret lab, they were all dead anyway – it was simply a question of timing.
    This way, their passing would at least serve a useful purpose.
    Whitely eyed the techs and then grunted. “I’m heading back to Lubbock to break the news. Marshall, you’re in charge of cleaning this mess up. And I remind everyone – one word about this to anyone and the penalty will be swift and final. So keep your thoughts to yourselves.”
    Whitely didn’t wait for a response and spun on his heel toward the door. The technicians weren’t important, and he suspected there was a better than fifty percent chance that he would never see them again. Snake had seemed dangerously unstable beneath his veneer of relative calm, even more so than the last times he’d encountered the man, and Whitely had seen the telltale signs of chronic meth use in his eyes and the sallow color of his skin, as well as the barely controlled tics and unconscious fidgeting and scratching. He could easily decide that the team needed to be taught a lesson, and Whitely wanted to be well away from Houston if Snake lashed out.
    Whitely had survived Magnus, who was a hothead and unpredictably violent; but compared to Snake, the former leader had been the essence of patience and reason. Snake was obviously on a