Sheldon Benson

Sheldon threw a chair across his office, watching the leg break from its collision with the floor. Then he overturned everything on his desk, from papers to his computer monitor.

"I needed Monica!" he screamed, closing in on the NCOIC standing at attention near the door.

To the man's credit, he maintained his stoic mask without so much as flinching. The mark of a good soldier.

"We searched every building in that town," Sergeant Ried stated calmly. "Doctor Wainwright and the girl weren't there. That truck they stole was also gone. According to the encampment survivors and Mister Castellano, they left long before we arrived."

"And you fucking believed them?! What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"We searched every building," Ried reiterated. "Whittaker was shot to hell and back, and his boyfriend stayed behind. The only resisters were thugs at the gate, and the rest of the survivors had no clue what was happening. The group came in, a nurse patched him up, and then the women left before we even arrived at the gate."

Benson pursed his lips and vigorously shook his head. The entire debacle reeked of bullshit. "Monica would never leave Taylor. She's the closest friend he has, and she's not the type to just abandon someone."

He'd watched Monica for a long time; she was too decent. Yes, she'd let Jayson leave, but that decision had likely been motivated by fear as well as a desire to stay for Doctor Adams and Taylor.

And the girl. Sheldon kept forgetting that teenager existed. Until recently, that kid hadn't even been relevant to his plans. But...

Benson stroked his chin. Monica had given a baby up for adoption once. Keenly aware that situation hadn't been her fault, he considered the possibility she felt responsibility as well as guilt. But it didn't explain her just leaving Taylor behind.

Damn it, she had all that research. Old man Whittaker had wiped everything clean on their end, but he wouldn't have done it without passing her a copy. And Viraj was fucking useless and uncooperative.

After running his tongue over his teeth, Sheldon returned to his line of questioning. "Did you find anything on Castellano or Whittaker?"

"No, sir."

Of course not. That had to be why Monica had fled. She had the only research pertaining to Project Achilles, and she'd never let it fall into his hands again. Which meant Whittaker must have told her about the project. That was why they'd all fled. And John Whittaker was now dead.

Sheldon hummed. "Very well. I'll have to worry about her later. What about Castellano? I was told he didn't resist; is he cooperating?"

"He's been in the quarantine ward per protocol," Ried replied with a shrug. "The team is awaiting your orders, sir."

An idea slowly took shape in Sheldon's mind. "What about Whittaker?"

"In the medical ward, separate from other patients."

Sheldon considered this. He'd been made aware Taylor had been shot, by freaking Wheeler of all people. No matter; the airman was a fuckup, and no one would miss him. Diego, on the other hand, could either be problematic or an asset.

"Thank you, Sergeant. You're dismissed."

Acknowledging Sheldon with a slight nod, Ried turned an about-face and exited the office.

Hmm, Taylor or Diego first? The former was likely heavily sedated, and he was easy enough to coerce. Castellano, though? He would be more difficult, considering he'd been Whittaker Sr's assistant. But where did his loyalty lie?

Decision made, Benson left his demolished office behind and made his way to the quarantine ward on the lower floors. He didn't acknowledge those he passed, focused solely on his objective. Not that many people were about; everyone had been scared out of their minds by the embellished facts of zombies on the loose.

Maybe he could rectify this situation after all. With John and Reyes neutralized, the remaining Council members would defer to Sheldon. The soldiers would follow his orders as the most senior ranking officer.

When he reached the bottom, he took note of the recently filled block. New people he didn't know about paced or sat in their cells, despondent over their predicament despite the obvious necessity.

Idiots, all of them.

Safety didn't exist; safety was a concept invented by mankind as a means to provide false comfort in an uncertain world. One could be one over by a snowplow or fall in the shower. An earthquake could level entire cities. A super volcano could wipe out humanity. No one was ever truly safe.

And these fools were no better here.

Reaching Diego's plexiglass cell, Benson tapped on the glass and smirked as Diego looked up from his seat on the made-up twin bed.

Diego rolled his eyes while remaining seated, keeping his hands in his lap.

Expected but not an issue.

Pressing the intercom button beside the door, Sheldon spoke into it with a cheerful tone. "Glad to see you alive, Castellano. Let's have a chat."

Aside from a small scoff, Diego made no acknowledgement of Sheldon's invitation.

"Come on, Castellano. You've gotta be pretty worried about your boyfriend if you were willing to risk life and limb for him."

This time, Diego flipped him the bird.

What would get this guy to talk? Sheldon hadn't been through Diego's case file in awhile, and his career had been exemplary. Wait, no, there had been that drug bust where he'd shot that kid. Diego had been cleared of wrongdoing since the boy fired shots first, but Castellano had gone on leave right after that. It was the only time he'd ever taken time off.

Benson leaned on the glass and continued to speak in a conversational tone. "You know, these cells give a person lots of time to think. About life, bad choices, people you killed to be where you are now. That boy's death wasn't your fault."

Rage flashed behind Diego's eyes as his fists clenched and nostrils flared. Finally, he met Benson's gaze with a hateful glare. "Unlike you, who caused billions of deaths around the world."

There was that. Sheldon shrugged. "Irrelevant. People die every day, Diego. Moms, children, the innocent pedestrian hit by a drunk driver. Scumbags. The world's overpopulated, and people fight over religion and politics. They kill for their next fix while trash lives off the welfare system. I did the world a favor."

Diego's lip curled in disgust. "Excuse you? My mother did not deserve to die! Jeanine didn't deserve to writhe in pain on the ground as the virus ran through her veins and we cut off her arm with no anesthetic. Taylor, who has done nothing to you, did not deserve to be shot."

"His injury was not part of the plan," Sheldon admitted. Fucking Wheeler just had to get trigger happy to prove himself. "Taylor is one of the few decent people in this world. If humanity is to survive with a clean slate, then we need good folks like him in it."

Sheldon didn't tell Diego he'd mourn the way he'd grieved for his own son. Taylor was like Mark in so many ways, and his own father had been too stupid to appreciate his only child until it was too late. That man didn't deserve him.

Hiding his anger became laborious when Diego laughed. "Are you actually pretending to care about someone? Taylor's death would mean nothing to you. He's not alive because you have a paternal motive; you keep him here because he suits your selfish purposes. You are not capable of emotion."

Why did this man have to be law enforcement? They were just as skilled at pushing all the right buttons. He'd have been perfect for the experiment if not for Taylor, but hopefully, he could convince Diego to work with him.

Sheldon lowered his voice. "John funded this project, not me."

"What's your point?" Diego demanded. "I already know this, and he was a fool to attempt something so reckless. That doesn't absolve you for releasing it into the population."

"Perhaps not," Sheldon conceded, "but we are so close to finding that cure. That research Monica has could save millions. And then we could start over. I'd much prefer to keep you alive, but I'll be just as happy to use you as a test subject in Jayson's place."

Diego opened his mouth, but Sheldon quickly silenced him. "But that won't work on you. Unlike the others, I can't control you through fear. And we both know I don't intend to harm Taylor, so let's just cut to the chase. There is an entire town filled with survivors up north. That little encampment you had your last stand in? I can just as easily give the order to bring every single person into our facility and shoot that virus into their veins. And that would all be on you, Castellano. Do you really want that on your hands when you had a chance to save their lives?"

"You son of a bitch."

"Watch it," Sheldon warned, clenching a fist at his side. "I do not insult your mother, so don't insult mine. Think about it; I'll come for your answer in the morning, and hopefully, I will have good news for your boyfriend instead of passing along the tragic death of yet another friend."

The intercom flashed red as he turned it off and walked away.

...

NCOIC = Noncommissioned Officer in Charge