Chris dumped that last the of the Doritos crumbs into his mouth and crumpled the bag.
"Well." He chewed nervously and swallowed. "It's TGV."
Ian and I shared an apprehensive glance. He smoothed his beard against his chin, a new impatient habit.
Chris lit another pre-rolled joint.
"I haven't seen anything like it," he confessed. "But it's definitely TGV." He pushed aside the microscope in barely concealed frustration. "Let's just hope it's a strain we haven't seen before, and that TGVx can eradicate these little fukkadillos just as well."
Ian snatched the joint from Chris's fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "Wait," he said. "A busload of nuns got TGV? Nuns? All of them? At once? How does that even work?"
Chris shook his head and exhaled the lungful of smoke he'd been holding in.
"I don't know," he coughed. "I guess it turns out nuns are as hot for it as anyone else? Don't freaking ask me."
I sensed Chris wasn't telling us everything.
"But they're all expired," I said. "And none of them look anything like a stage three. I mean, their faces are serene. Didn't you notice that? They're practically glowing. Chris, they're all smiling. Not one of them looks a day more advanced than a freshly-awakened stage one. And they're all expired."
Chris stepped out of the camper trailer onto the edge of the highway.
"I need some fresh air."
Ian and I both followed after him. There still wasn't a single vehicle on the road for as far as I could see in either direction, except for the bus. Each of its windows framed a nun's motionless silhouette. It was creeping me out. I wanted to get back on the road and leave the bus behind.
"Chris." I put my hand on his shoulder. "Seriously. Answer me. Why would a bunch of travelling stage-one nuns gorge themselves on food and suddenly expire all at once?"
Chris reached for his head, but he'd lost his fur cowboy hat in New York. With nothing else to throw to the ground in frustration, he ripped a pen from his lab coat's breast pocket and slammed it down onto the asphalt. It shattered. Splinters of plastic flew everywhere.
"I don't know Ash!" His eyes were pleading with me not to ask any more questions. He glanced at the bus. "I don't know," he repeated. "But it's not a good sign, is it?"
Ian put a hand on Chris's shoulder, trying to calm him. He looked him in the eyes.
"Not a good sign of what?"
Chris pulled away from Ian and stepped back into the camper trailer.
"Let's just get back to Muldoon as quick as we can," he said. "One of you guys drive. I have a splitting headache. Seriously. Grand-Canyon's-ass-crack big. I need a rest." He slammed the camper trailer's door, drew the curtains, then called out from inside, "Drive fast."
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Please VOTE 🌟 before continuing. xxBailey