We The Sickest: Contest Version 13 We Have A Problem...

At about 1800 hours, General Gosling heard the door to his office open. As expected, the only boy known to have immunity walked in.

"Hm-hmm! Sir? W-what is it you wish to speak to me about, sir?" Timothy stuttered, managing to sound sort of polite. He was standing in front of the State General, after all. Plus, with the circ.u.mstances being what they are and all, he was quite scared.

"Ah, yes. Timothy Brown of Milford High, Cla.s.s 6. We have a problem." Gosling stated frankly. "And it seems, dear boy, that you hold the answer to it." The General gave the boy a serious stare to emphasize his point further and to a.s.sure the boy he wasn't kidding around. At all.

"Me? What's so special about me? I mean, sure I'm smart, but I don't even have a clue what your problem is, yet you a.s.sume I have the answer? What kind of sick joke is this?" Timothy fumed.

He was tired and hungry, coming straight here from school dismissal. He wasn't given any food or rest since he arrived. He was just shoved into this guy's office. And he's just about had it with the madness before him.

"I demand to go home! What kind of General kidnaps a teenager, takes him to a military base some 100 kilometers away, refuses him the basic needs? Tell me, 'General', what's so important that you have to treat me this way?" Timothy was furious. "Go on! TELL me!"

General Gosling was shocked. This kid had some nerve yelling at him. With his authority, he could make this boy's life h.e.l.l if he wanted to. Yet, Gosling couldn't help feel a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt.

It had been years since an underling had spoken back in such a manner. To be honest, General Gosling was a bit impressed. He was actually starting to like the boy. After a bit of silence, the General took a deep breath and started to explain.

"You see, boy, we need you. You are the only one with an immunity to a new, unique strain of virus. It has infected over fifteen thousand. We had taken a few drops of about the 4 thousand people left in the whole state. And you were the only one with-"

"Bulls.h.i.+t!" Timothy screamed. "If there were that many people infected, how come I've never even heard of it until now! I know you're the State General and all, but come on! That's more than HALF the state's population. So it just can't be true."

"That's it!" General Gosling got up out of his chair and slammed his fist on the desk. This young man's att.i.tude had turned his thoughts so sour, he just snapped.

"Now you listen here boy! If you don't help us, then we have no chance at surviving. The whole world could be in danger. This thing came at us out of nowhere. We don't know how it started or why. All the men who got've gone to investigate have gotten sick. And, so far, you're the only hope at a cure we got! Gosh dangit!"

At some point in the General's rant, Timothy had fallen back onto the floor from the chair, quivering. "This guy..." he thought, "he's really not kidding! What do I do?"

Grunting, Gosling plopped back into his seat. His face was redder than the ripest tomato Timothy had ever seen. And just like that, the General messaged his men over the intercom to send him home. It was gonna be a long night's drive...

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******** End of Chapter Thirteen *********

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