Dr Saunders fell forward in his chair, catching his head in his hands, with his elbows pressed against his knees. He hyperventilated aggressively for what felt like a few seconds but was probably closer to a minute or two. He had never felt such bubbling unease in the pit of his stomach; it made him want to hurl up the entire contents of his body, including his torn heart. Which way did he go? Was handing over the cure saving the human race or condemning it to chaos and misery?
It had suddenly dawned on him over the past few days that a cure may not even be necessary. What if the immunes survived this plagued world, what if they could fight back and regain control? That would leave a small population of brave people who had to fight for their right to exist. Maybe that was the perfect sta
