Fiscal Business

All but two hands were raised.
“Well, that’s much more than the necessary two-thirds majority. We can finally remove Floyd from his position.” The two abstentions from the vote looked worried; they were outnumber on one side of a tense schism.
“Explain yourselves. Why do you continue to back this madman?”
The two looked at each other. The smaller man spoke, eyes closed and afraid. “As a CEO, Floyd has led us along a very lucrative path we’ve all been on for five years. He made us millions of millions and he himself is the sole pioneer of this industry.”
The dissenters sat while the majority just watched and waited for their leader to speak. Jonathon slowly circled the long conference table behind his new opponents. “So you two think that going public with all of this,” he spread his hands indicating to everything around them, “and I mean all of this, will benefit this firm?”
The dissenters both nodded in affirmation.
Jonathon smiled and leaned in over the smaller man’s shoulder as he spoke. “Mark, you don’t think for a minute that this won’t falter, fail and die in the next few months if the truth ever surfaces?”
“We’ve guessed before and he’s always been right.” It was true. The first time they all met they were strangers with a void filled with something less than the loved one they had lost. Other than the void, all these men shared similar deep pockets which chance had made much deeper by Floyd’s research and vision. He had studied and experimented until he identified and isolated the contagion, the metaphorical cancer.
“So far, he’s been lucky. That’s all.” Jonathon’s bravado was to keep his followers campaigning behind him. This conversation could ruin everything.
“No Jonathon, you have forgotten how and why you came here.”
“I haven’t forgotten that I still have another three mouths to feed, Mark. Follow us and nothing will need to change.”
“Please, three mouths? Three mouths! You could feed a hundred mouths caviar with all the millions you have. Save your desperate rhetoric for the fools.” Mark looked around at the other members at the word fools. It was clear that this was the battle before the war. They were his adversaries in something that could, most certainly would threaten the whole world. This team had changed from empty men seeking revenge to something darker, more self serving. They had hungry eyes and looked more like what they sought to destroy than any would have admitted. “Besides, whether you want to admit it or not, all of this will be public knowledge someday. It’s really a miracle it lasted this long. Floyd’s play on privacy has always been focused on finding a cure or at least preventative measures.”
The group was unimpressed.
Finally, the other man came to Mark’s aid. “If Floyd’s formula could have saved your child’s life, Jonathon, or any of you, would you be voting like this now?”
The ball flew over the net and Jonathon parried and swung.
“That time has passed, Steve. You answer me this: Do you realize that these chemicals in the plague victims could revolutionize medicine and cosmetics industries? We could make millions, control the other outbreaks, eventually cure cancer, prolong life with a new scientific visionary at the helm!”
“Jonathon, man was meant to live, age, die, and rot in the earth! To work against that is insanity and Floyd knows that,” Steve hissed.
“Too bad for Floyd. It looks like you will be putting your seat up for grabs at the next meeting.”
Mark smiled and place both hands on the table. He pushed back and stood. “Why wait? I hereby resign my seat. Letters will be posted this weekend. I can find my own way out.” Mark and Steve both began to leave.
“Good,” said Jonathon. “Because if you don’t mind, gentlemen, I’d like to begin planning for the future.”
Once his two loyal trustees left the room, Floyd turned off the live security feed he was watching and flipped on his laptop camera.

“Howdy, gentlemen!” Floyd’s appearance on the hologram module built into the conference table startled them. “Looks like you’ve been fixin’ to play Jefferson Davis on the board.” The board members, startled and some ashamed, could not meet the hologram’s gaze. “Jonathon, you realize that I never started this company to make millions for me or you, Mr. Dawkins.”
Everyone at the table looked uneasily around the table now that all their cards were on the table. Floyd continued, “The containment and disposal company has been an unexpected windfall since I’d discovered that the burned bodies oozed contagion. By chance I had already owned half this mountain, so one and one makes two, doesn’t it, Jonathon? Just eliminating the immediate threat with a bullet to the brain, an axe to the neck doesn’t fix the problem. Once that residue hits the water table and who knows how many people will be affected?”
“Floyd, we’re taking the company to a new level.”
Floyd’s disembodied, holographic head laughed on the table while he typed something into a keyboard. The remaining board members jumped as the emergency blast doors sealed the room outside of the inner oak doors. Steel shutters began to cover the upper tiered windows blotting out the sun.
“No, gentlemen. You are only half right. Still as CEO and, as you put it to Mr. Carter and Mr. Thurston, scientific visionary of this company, I have foreseen that you will be contributing to the company’s future, but maybe not in the capacity that you originally hoped. No, we will not be using our current specimens to fuel a new business, nor will we condone anything that will allow this scourge to continue even to benefit society.”
Disbelief began to melt into panic. “Jonathon?” Floyd said. “I’d like to thank you for sending Steve and Mark home. I feared that they might become a business causality.” The wood paneling behind Floyd’s oil portrait opened wide revealing six zombies held behind bars. The board began to panic, running to both exits and pushing on doors pinned shut from the outside. “Don’t worry, your insurance will cover this.” The hologram leaned in close to every empty seat at the table. “The payoff will feed all three of those mouths you’re responsible for. See Ya!”
“Floyd!”
The grey hands clawed toward the members of the board until the electric buzzer released them from their prison. They stumbled into the room for feeding time, a feast of flesh clawing at sealed doors and windows.
“I just want you to know that I will be dissolving the board shortly after the vaccine is completed. Don’t worry, you won’t be missing much. The final profit will be free to the world. Take care, gentlemen.”
Two minutes later, nothing was left but a few shallow screams and the sound of chewing.

In the control booth, Floyd flipped a switch and spoke into the microphone. “Team 2, locate Jonathon and hit him with a dose of the early stage cure formula.”
“Yessir.”
The speakers emitted chewing and the sound of something ripping, he then heard the pneumatic dart gun go off. Second later he heard Jonathon screaming. “Jesus Christ! Help me, I’m bleeding. I’m arrrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh.” The screams subsided after a few minutes. “I should be dead.”
“Yes.”
“But I’m alive.”
“Medically, no, but it appears you got your wish.”
Jonathon focused his one remaining eye on the hologram.
“What?”
“Jonathon, you’re not dead, but you ain’t alive neither. This is where your science, your vision leads. You see, you have been given a gift: you can see that your dream is really a nightmare.” Jonathon began to wail.
“But you can cure me, Floyd. Please.”
“Jonathon, that would be… inhumane. You are missing an arm, half of your innards and an eye. Notice you feel no pain, just hunger. The cure would surely kill you.” Floyd’s disembodied head looked around his desk. “Tell you what, Jonathon. We’ll study you. Team 1, contain and transport Mr. Dawkins to his own cell. Contain the rest of the board members for study, and then cleanse everything else.” The blast doors opened revealing a team of men in armored hazmat suits.