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  • Emergency Quarantine!


    DeClan Asher Quinn

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    New York Hospital

    January 25, 2019

    10pm

     

     

     

    The ER had been hopping, it was a typical Friday night. Three crash victims, four gunshot victims, two stabbings and one victim of his own homemade bomb later and the doctor was sitting in a chair of the operating room staring at the wall.

     

    Elbows rested on his knees, left hand holding up his head, fingers pinching over closed eyes as he tried to remember the last time he slept. He wanted a drink… he didn’t drink at work. It was a dilemma.

     

    Sighing softly he pushed off his knees, lifting like dead weight out of the chair as he tugged the stained labcoat off his shoulders and dumped it into the biohazard bin. Shift was over and as usual the next guy was late to take over the ER. If there was any god at all he would be left alone for a thirty minute power nap in case no one showed….again.

     

    Gray eyes peeked out of the swinging door, like a mouse checking for cats before he slipped out to find a room to die in. The empty recovery room was dark and his breathing had just slowed when the pager at his hip went off, zapping him causing a violent jerk out of the bed.

     

    [declan]CRAP![/declan]

     

    It did that every time, his body's unique aversion to electronics always causing it to fritz when it went off. It was better than the cell phone he had originally carried. That had burst into flames in his damn pocket. Pinching the bridge of his nose he headed towards the main nurses station to see what was coming in.

     

    [declan]..hey Gretchen….what do we have coming in.[/declan]

     

    The deep frown on her brow made him hesitantly step back and offer a meek smile. She could read when he was exhausted, strung out, hungry….she was a damn mind reader if he hadn't known better.

     

    [npc]….bite victim..possible infection and artery damage.[/npc]

     

    Nodding he took the clipboard from her and scanned over the notes that had been called in from the ambulance.

     

    [declan]Lycanthrope?[/declan] [npc]..believe so.[/npc]

     

    Odd…. wasn’t a full moon. Nodding faintly he moved to the coats on the wall, a new white "cloak" slid up his arms to prepare for "battle". Emergency techs came running in with Kyle Turin on a gurney, his shoulder wrapped in about three pounds of gauze and still turning red.

     

    [declan]Operating room three…[/declan]

     

    He followed the men as they kept taking vitals, the bag of fluids held up to seep into the victim's veins. As the bed wheels were locked, the ambulance tech handed him their clipboard with a faint scowl as eyes trailed over the good doctor's ears.

     

    Typical.

     

    Eyes skimmed the docket. Guy had been several hours outside of the city, out in the woods, when he had gotten bitten. Based on him driving himself back home and then not feeling well, the window for giving the antiviral was getting small. At least the guy seemed reasonably calm, morphine must have kicked in.

     

    [declan].. hi Kyle. I am Dr Asher. Can you tell me what exactly happened?[/declan]

     

    As the guy began to babble excitedly about a monster in the woods the dexterous fingers were popping a needle into the good arm and drawing blood without being noticed. A brow was lifting as the way the man described it, it sounded more like a zombie than a werecreature. They hadn't had a z-viral outbreak near New York in over six years.

     

    [declan]I am going to give you an antiviral to counteract anything you might have contracted and then we will take a look at the shoulder ok?[/declan]

     

    Kyle just nodded, eyes showing signs of reddening in the irises that the doctor didn’t like. Not sure what he was dealing with yet, he gave two shots, the morteximius and lycaneximius antivirals just for good measure. Smiling he patted the young man's arm for reassurance before sitting on the rolling stool and moving to the microscope, needle expressing several drops of Kyle's infected blood to see which of the two it actually was while the antivirals took effect.

     

    Focus on the manual dial was done twice as his normally calm heartrate began to elevate. Pulling from the eyepiece he rubbed tired orbs hoping to clear something disquieting from his vision before he leaned in again to check the blood once more.

     

    Anyone else would have simply said it was the morteximius virus and moved on. But Asher wasn’t anyone. He had spent nearly every free moment of his life studying all the viruses seeking better cures.

     

    This….was mutated….engineered….. this…….was an outbreak.

     

    Coat fluttered as he bolted out the operating room doors, nearly knocking over the nurse that was coming to help prep the shoulder for surgery.

     

    Sprinting down the hallway, the scowl was etched on his brow, words whispered under his breath again and again….

     

    [declan]…please don’t fritz…please don’t fritz….please don’t fritz…[/declan]

     

    Skidding to a halt in front of the plastic square, he took a breath and flicked open the case before the fingers balled in a fist.

     

    [declan]…please don’t fritz[/declan]

     

    Last was whispered like a prayer as he hit the large red button holding his breath until the corridor lights dimmed, red strobes dropping from the ceiling as the alarm began to throb softly throughout the hospital. Breath sighed out as he sprinted back to patient X while every door and window of the New York hospital began to block out the city lights, thick steel quarantine doors beginning to drop down to seal up the building like Fort Knox. Three years after the Nevus, the retrofit of the hospital had been done for just such an incident. The fear of a viral outbreak had been so present in those days. There had not been a case in years, so they had stopped even testing the system. It was a miracle the quarantine defenses still worked.

     

    Nurse hadnt gone into the room, her wide eyes now panicked as she looked at the doctor, scrambling back as he sprinted towards her.

     

    [declan]No one comes back here… you hear me… no one![/declan]

     

    She nodded, dropping the tray of gauze and scalpels as she turned to run back to the nurse's station. Entering the operation room he snatched a white mask, pulling the elastic over his head to tuck over elongated ears.

     

    This was bad…. this was very bad….

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    He sat looking at the phone in his hand, unable to breathe.  The burner phone only intended for two minutes max.  It had been a garbled mess of his sister’s voice.  He knew where she worked, what she did for a living… somewhere he never thought she would settle into but it seemed to fit her.  But this, the words he had made out, the tone of her voice strong –always brave- but tinged with something that resonated in his bones.  The thought of every warning never crossed his mind.  Somewhere in his thought process he’d started moving through the apartment.  At one moment sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor of papers, barefoot and sipping orange juice as he scanned his notes…  the next in full scamper mode.  Living on the run had not been scoured from his system yet.  Running toward something though, that was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

     

    Gabe was somewhere in the building doing what Gabe always needed to do.  Hoodie, jeans, something that resembled military jump boots, a small bag stuffed with random things and finally the keys to the Bugatti.  A gun…. a gun.. a gun…  He didn’t need papers, books…pencils. Everything he needed was in his head along the ability to drive the car like a bat out of hell to make it to the airport before Eris took off.  If not, he was screwed.  Gabe was also going to kill him.  This was the second time he’d taken off for New York without warning.

     

    Pulling his real cell as he tore backwards from the subgarage, he lost the signal virtually immediately as he false shifted into first and the phone slid into his lap, almost stalling out the car.

     

    Fucking LA.  No reliable cell.  No reliable radio.  It was a shithole. It had always been a shithole, which was why he liked to live so far north of it.  Gunning the engine into gear, thumb pressed the button again as he clutched it between his shoulder and his chin to shift the engine into second.

     

    It beeped.

     

    Okay.

     

    [bodhan]…heading to the airport.  Jo called.  Something’s happening, she needs me. I’m catching Eris before she jumps. I’ll send her back for you.[/bodhan]

     

    Phone beeped  and he pushed it off his shoulder with his chin to bounce on the leather seat next to him, shifting and pressing the pedal again to the floor.  There was no apology. He was doing what he had to do…. heading into danger, her garbled words unsure if she had even reached him.  Quarantined.  Lockdown.  Shut  off.  They were words he never wanted to hear, words he knew he would most likely hear.  All his notes, all his ideas, all his calculations.  He knew this would happen, just not with his sister locked inside of something he didn’t even know allowed those to remain alive.  He knew what they did to places like that.  They were killed.

     

    He could fix this.  He could fix this.

     

    Would they know he was alive then?  Yes.

     

    Would it matter if half the world was dead?  No.

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    It was a mountain of voices at first, the chatter, the fluctuation of a million emotions that pattered at her skin and unconsciousness like butterflies as she tried to catch some shut-eye before clocking out and heading home and off for the next few days.  The nurse in the bunk above her was snoring, pillow grabbed and pressed to her ears to try and keep out the noise.  It was the same nurse’s feet hitting the floor that made a green eye pop open, an odd pulse of light in the room something she’d never seen before, scrambled consciousness pulling everything into sharp focus.  The nurse may have been figuring out what to do, but the ginger twin knew exactly what it was.  She’d lived it, lived within it, the adrenaline response too tightly engrained in her bones it was as if the Nevus had never happened.

     

    She had to get to her closet.

     

    Elevators off.  Sequestered.  Everyone sequestered.  Stairwells locked. 

     

    Fingers flipped through keys as everyone was stumbling through protocols, pushing into a stairwell and pulling it closed behind her.  Down two floors, three floors to her subground level.  Janitor’s center of operations next to the morgue?  Seemed legit.  It also was the electrical pipeline.  Keying into the central system reset next to her office, eyes scanned over the board, the large wall panel containing a small light for every fire alarm and emergency pull in the entire building.  All were clear except the ER. It had been triggered in the ER.  A quarantine in the ER.  Eyes followed all the pipes and whirring lines that were the central brain of the entire place.  Janitor yes, part of it was also knowing how everything worked.  Switches flipped, airflow left circulating on the upper levels, stopped stagnant on the lower. It would buy some time at least… if indeed this was as serious as she thought it was.  Air would get down there, they wouldn’t suffocate, but air wasn’t flowing in or out.  It would get insanely hot and stuffy, but eventually siphon upstairs.

     

    ….the entire hospital was eventually screwed.

     

    Memories of villages set on fire quickened her pulse.  Fear when people realized what was happening.  Panic on the inside… no matter how well they were trained.  Panic on the outside, because memories of the Nevus’ outbreaks were still too fresh.  They could be burned alive inside, or leveled from the outside.

     

    Janitor’s closet was shouldered, digging through her bag for the zipper pocket that held the burner phone she’d been given.  Dialing.  Message short.  Repeated the words until the phone ran out of life.  She was in a terrible position to make a call, cement and steel.  But…  there was no other way.  His voice, she heard.  He knew.

     

    He was coming, he had to be.

     

    She pushed through the double doors of the morgue, grabbing everything she could.  Masks, covers, plastic, duct tape from her closet.  Biohazard equipment.  If it was in the ER, they would need as much as they could get.  Keying on the double elevator from the morgue, she rose it to the ER and turned it off, locking the doors as she stepped off into a room filled with so much panic it was hard to breathe.  The nurse’s station was buzzing.  There were some great ones, but green ones as well.  She contemplated duct taping the green ones and tossing them into a damn closet.  They were going to be useless.

     

    *npc*  You can’t go…!

     

    She strode to the station, dumping everything she could onto the counter for them to use in addition to their own.

     

    [maree]Get these on every patient in the ER.  The less exposed, the better chance we have of all staying alive.[/maree]

     

    Eyes had already seen the scattered tray near one of the operating rooms.  Pulling on her own mask, she pushed two rolls of duct tape up her arm and elbowed a plastic sheet they used for renovation dust, making her way to the operating room.  Peering in, her skin prickled.  Damn.  Damn damn damn!!! Why did it have to be him?!

     

    Exhaling quietly, she unfolded the plastic and pulled it out.

     

    She knew what she had to do…

     

    She knew what she had to do…

     

    …the sound of unsheathed duct tape striking the air was sharp as she began to seal the man inside.  The last, and first person she wanted to see inside.  Grabbing a chair, she taped it up and over the curtain a wane, but still another layer of protection.  It would buy seconds, and she knew seconds were sometimes all one had.  She stepped underneath the plastic that now separated her from the rest of the hospital, snapping the tape again.  She was sealing the actual door.  There was no one else to hear her but the man dying inside and the other trying to save the world.

     

    [maree]Help is coming… let me know what you need, I’ll get it for you.  I shut the ventilation off to this floor.  Our air will circulate upstairs eventually, but I did what I could to buy us time.[/maree]

     

    Her breath fogged the window as she reached up and sealed the top of the door, her breath now muffled to the inside.

     

    [maree]Dr. Marin.  Dr. Bodhan Marin.  He’s alive.  He’s coming.  He’s my brother.[/maree]

     

    Her face appeared in the window.

     

    [maree]I don’t have to be in there to help you.[/maree]

     

    She knew he would realize what she meant.

     

    [maree]..but I don’t know how long it will take for him to get here, and how he’ll get in.  I’ll have to figure that out….[/maree]

     

    She touched the window briefly and ducked under the plastic again, sealing it to the floor and the doctor inside.

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    [atticus]Precisely what time did they initiate the lockdown?[/atticus] Doctor Gale inquired as he aggressively maneuvered his vehicle into the left hand lane. He had received the call when he was about half way to his Ballantine Apartment in Omenwich, his home away from home when he worked in Manhattan.

    A member of Pharos, Gale like most agents worked in some capacity for the organization’s many corporate holdings. He was a lead researcher for the Facility for the Treatment and Study of the Altered, or F.T.S.A. and through that organization was a part of the Center for Disease Control. As one of the foremost authorities on the ‘big three’, as he liked to refer to the super-viruses, Atticus was generally called when there was threat concerning them.

    The black SUV screeched around a median. He had to make an illegal U-Turn head back toward the quarantined hospital. If there were any cops around they’d have to chase him to the hospital because Atticus wasn’t about to stop for anything.

    [atticus]Who’s on the scene? What’s his background?[/atticus]

    Details were important. Every second counted.

    The contact at the hospital had already informed him of the infected individual. Kyle Turin, Human Male, 27 years of age, a surveyor. The rest of the information was known only by the attending doctor and processing a report wasn’t going to be too high on the guy’s priorities at the moment.

    [atticus]Come’on, come’on. Out of the way.[/atticus] Atticus griped as he wove in and out of traffic. Finally he turned off the main drag and took the less traveled side streets. This was the one he’d been waiting for, he was sure of it. Apparently this Doctor Asher was well versed in his knowledge of the viruses. He wouldn’t place the hospital under lockdown unless he was absolutely sure of the danger.

    Atticus slowed when the flashing red’s and blue’s became visible. The police were already on the scene and had barricaded all the exits of the hospital parking lots and roadways.

    [npc]Sorry sir you’re gonna have to…[/npc]

    Atticus flashed his identification before the police officer.

    [atticus]CDC.[/atticus] he announced.

    Pharos wasn’t in the habit of unnecessarily revealing themselves. The world was aware of their presence but in many places their existence still bordered on ‘urban legend’ and that’s just the way they wanted to keep it. As far as all those who were concerned this night, Atticus Gale was ‘Disease Control’.

    [npc]Thought you guys always traveled together.[/npc] The officer mentioned as he waved him through. Atticus didn’t pay too much attention to the comment, his mind focused on more important things.

    The main entrance to the hospital was guarded by men dressed in gunmetal grey uniforms. Vanguard troopers. As local law enforcement they were bound to the same protocols as the NYPD and the boys in grey often worked in conjunction with the boys in blue.

    Atticus flashed his identification and was about to ask the legionaries about the situation when a man appearing to his right called out his name.

    [npc]Doctor Gale? It is you.[/npc] The man, Asian descent, in his late fifties offered a hand and grinned widely. [npc]Doctor Lin[/npc] he introduced. [npc]I’ve read your book. You seem even younger in person.[/npc]

    [atticus]Yeah, I get that a lot. You got here fast.[/atticus] Atticus observed, changing the subject.

    [npc]Wasn’t the first. Might say the same about you.[/npc] The man mentioned. [npc]I just happened to be in the area.[/npc]

    Atticus nodded. [atticus]Yeah, me too, was on my way home. What are we up against here?[/atticus]

    The doctor apprised Gale of the situation and assured him that the entire hospital was locked tight and everyone that had contacted the infected individual was in isolation. It had been plain to see right off the bat. This hospital in particular had been fit with hermetically sealing steel doors for such an emergency. Every portal was guarded by a steel barrier.

    [atticus]I’d like speak with the first responders that brought him in.[/atticus]

    [npc]Of course. We’ve isolated them in one of the emergency waiting rooms along with everyone else who had contact with Mr. Turin. Right this way.[/npc]
     

    The troopers stepped aside as Doctor Lin entered a code known only to the CDC into the main doors. The entrance was designed with double doors allowing people to come and go while airborne contagions were filtered out. After the two doctors passed through, the doors automatically sealed behind them, then after the air was exchanged, the glass doors to the interior pulled apart.

     

    Naturally the hospital was abuzz. Hospital staff had their usual duties coupled with quarantine procedures. It was organized mayhem.

    [atticus]Have they been displaying any symptoms?[/atticus] Atticus inquired as he side-stepped out of the path of an approaching gurney.

    [npc]Not the last time we checked.[/npc]

    [atticus]When was that?[/atticus]

    [npc]There was a —[/npc]

    The piercing scream of a woman drowned out the doctor’s words. Down the hall a panicked nurse flailing her arms wildly was running toward them. The cause of her terror was steadily gaining. It was a zombie!

    The creature had emerged from the door leading to the emergency waiting room where those that might have been possibly contaminated were being held. It was Atticus’ worst fear come true. The zombie in the EMT uniform hadn’t been turned by a bite or contact with infected blood. Even he had, no known strain of morteximius incubated that quickly. There would have been signs. It was airborne! But even more fascinated was the speed at which the zombie was moving. This was not the nerve damaged shambling of a typical z-infected corpse, it moved fluidly, but erratic, as if it were a man hyper-responsive from a narcotic.

    Atticus readied himself. Fast as it was, it was still just a mindless creature acting on instinct. He placed himself ahead of Doctor Lin but before he could act the zombie struck the nurse’s back, throwing her off balance. She tumbled forward, directly into Atticus, forcing him to fall backwards to absorb the force of the impact and prevent injury to the woman.

    Doctor Lin didn’t even have time react. As Atticus slid across the highly polished floor with the woman on top of him the zombie pounced on the older man, driving him to the wall and tearing into his throat like a wild animal. It viciously chewed through the soft flesh of his neck as the doctor gurgled his final breath.

    Two more emerged from the room. From their clothes, an orderly and perhaps a technician of some sort, Atticus couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter much anyway. They focused their pale dead eyes upon he and the nurse and bounded down the hall like a couple of deranged sprinters.

    He had to think fast. A nurse’s station was to his left. Jumping to his feet with the nurse’s weight pressing against him Atticus tossed her over the counter top and in one smooth motion picked up a gurney and slammed it into the faster of the two zombies.

    The sickly sound of snapping ribs echoed through the hallway as the creature was taken off it’s feet, thrown directly into the path of the second. Both fell hard but quickly scrambled to their feet, unhindered by pain and consequence, but in that split second their quarry had vanished. Pausing, they tasted the air, olfactory driven instincts drawing them to the body of Doctor Lin only a few feet away.

    Laying on the floor behind the counter top of the nurse’s station Atticus put a finger to his lips to ensure that the nurse kept quiet. He then gestured to the open door behind him and slowly, silently, crawled into the office. Once the nurse was in, he carefully closed the door and locked it. A peek through the venetian blinds of the room’s window into the hallway revealed what Atticus suspected, that the zombies were currently more concerned with their meal than to trace the source of minute sounds.

    [atticus]How many were in there?[/atticus] Atticus asked the nurse as he inspected the P.A. system in the corner of the small office.

    [npc]W-What?[/npc]

    She was in shock but he needed answers.

    [atticus]Eight people had contact with the infected patient brought in. Were there eight?[/atticus]

    She struggled to focus. [npc]Eight? Yeah, I think so. I didn’t see anyone else if that’s what you mean?[/npc]

    His eyes fell to the name tag on her shirt. [atticus]Amber.[/atticus] He informally addressed her in a soft, easy tone, [atticus]You’re going to need an anti-viral.[/atticus]

    [npc]I wasn’t bit.[/npc] She clarified.

    [atticus]I know.[/atticus]

    [npc]My God![/npc] She exclaimed, the nurse immediately filling in the blanks.

    [atticus]Does this work?[/atticus] Atticus asked, pointing at the microphone.

    Amber tentatively crossed the room and pressed a button filling the speakers throughout the building with that preceding static hum of a hospital wide announcement.

    [atticus]Attention.[/atticus] Atticus’ deep voice boomed over the PA system inside and outside of the hospital. [atticus]This is Doctor Gale of the CDC. There are eight, possibly more, z-infected individuals located in the western wing of the main level of the building. They appear to be infected with a new strain. If anyone begins to exhibit signs of fever, inflammation of the eyes or numbness it is imperative that they are isolated and restrained. Under no circumstances should anyone attempt to breech the security measures and exit the hospital. In accordance with the Eastern Alliance’s Emergency Management Policy, law enforcement are required to shoot and kill any individuals fleeing a quarantined area until such time as control of the outbreak can be maintained.[/atticus]

    A paralyzed silence bled through the hospital as Atticus turned off the microphone. The zombies needed to be destroyed but more imperative was having a look at Doctor Asher’s patient zero. If Mr. Kyle Turin hadn’t turned yet then he was the key to it all.

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    Cabinet was thrown open, nimble fingers pulling out restraints as he glanced over at Kyle. Fortunately the injury, shots of antivirals and morphine had him half dozing at the moment. Two restraints were clamped to the underside of both sides of the gurney, not trusting a single restraint per arm on a potentially transforming zombie, especially with a bastardized form of the virus. The steps were repeated on his ankles, several times reassuring a bleary eyed Kyle that he was fine.

     

    Scowl was deep as he went back to the microscope to look at the virus again. It was acting like a measles or….. anthrax. Both had airborne infection potential.

     

    Fuck!

     

    Getting up he started to toss open the cabinets of the OR, uncertain what he was looking for. He needed……..needed………

     

    Hands ran up into his hair as he paced. He needed his samples. He needed his volumes of research work that documented in excessive detail every test, every failure, every glimmer of hope. He needed his damn lab but that was a half hour away. He couldn’t help like this… he wouldn’t be able to help…again!

     

    Chest was heaving in short gasps as fingers clenched at his skull.

     

    It was Sam all over again.

     

    Foot hit the rolling stool with enough force to send it flying across the cold tile floor, ricocheting off the wall to fall on its side. Eyes far too large were frantically searching for….something.

     

    Head snapped at the sound of duct tape ripping from itself outside the doors of the OR, abrasive to overly sensitive ears, ripping a hole in the billowing attack that had begun to furiously gather. Chest slowed its heave as peach bobbed up into the window, plastic stretching over top. Thick lashes blinking over the white mask as the spinning slowed.

     

    [maree] Help is coming… let me know what you need, I’ll get it for you. I shut the ventilation off to this floor. Our air will circulate upstairs eventually, but I did what I could to buy us time. Dr Marin. Dr Bodhan Marin.[/maree]

     

    Brow faintly furled over eyes that still tinged with a hint of the wild PTSD episode as her face came up under the plastic to look into the window. Marin......something itching in his skull at the name.

     

    [maree]I don’t have to be in there to help you.[/maree]

     

    Blink was slow as a deeper breath pulled into his lungs, blinking again as he turned slowly, looking around the room. Fingers scratched in his curls, expression becoming calmly thoughtful as he looked at the microscope.

     

    [declan]….biohazard lab..[/declan]

     

    He turned to look at her.

     

    [declan]Need you to go to the biohazard lab. There is a…um… a….safe.[/declan]

     

    Fingers were snapping a bit to help him get the words out.

     

    [declan]…hidden under the desk at the back right, box sitting over it. Combination is…..[/declan]

     

    There was a pause….a distance in the eyes for the briefest moment before he cleared his throat.

     

    [declan]… 4..18..19…79……………………… I need you to get the notebooks out of it and then go to the x-ray lab so you can scan pages and throw them up here on the screen.[/declan]

     

    He knew he couldn’t have her open the seal she had already made. But he needed those damn notes.

     

    [declan]….call this OR when you get there and I will tell you where to start. And um…..[/declan]

     

    Frown was deep as he glanced around again, clearly an itch on the brain. If it actually was airborne…..

     

    [declan]….and I need it cold in here… damn cold. Need to prevent spread.[/declan]

     

    He watched the hand touch the glass, breath soft as she vanished. Ok….. ok….. he had to work. Glance to the moan on the gurney drew a frown and a greater sense of urgency as he walked to the stool, set it back on its wheels and drug it to the microscope to take another look.

     

    He had to work.

     

    Reaching for an empty clipchart to start taking notes he paused as the PA came on. Frown curled down over the silver eyes.

     

    [Declan]...and keep the damn CDC out of here![/Declan]

     

    He wasn't sure if she heard him but it made him feel better none the less. Cowboy yahoos the CDC, more likely to cause the outbreak than contain it. Grunting softly he started to jot down notes as he took vitals on his moaning patient.

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    Z-Infection.  More in the west wing.

     

    She could feel it, even as she hurried away to do his bidding. Her hand on the window had not been a fluke.  One of the only things right now she was thanking the Order for was to allow someone like Ardal to be their poker face to the world. He had shown her much, enough…  hopefully to attempt to make a dent in this. Whether or not she was strong enough to be conscious at the end of the crisis was yet to be seen.  It was already happening as the hurried strides turned into a run, her hand on Asher’s OR window implying a calming suggestion if his fracturing brain allowed him to take it.  She could still feel his near meltdown, even from here… feel the entirety of the building erupt into the chaos of crushing panic.  Why wasn’t she strong enough to help them?  Why had the Order done so much harm instead of teaching her to do good?

     

    She shrugged off the tickle of anger, knowing exactly what was happening.  Asher had been explosive, the trickles of calm she had tried to exchange for his frustration shaken off her skin like crackled mud.  Other things were swirling out behind her, a cold fit for a Disney princess that billowed as she moved. Not enough to freeze, or frost, but enough to start dropping the temperature around her skin to fend off whatever was causing this hell at least for herself.  She could help, in ways that nobody probably could.  If she got sick, well… could she even get sick?

     

    The rest of the hospital, needed a bit more mortal intervention.  Keys, constant twinkles were pulled from the retractable zip clip on her belt to lock every door she came to. In and out, back to the basement control center.  This time, the boiler.  A building this large, in New York, it wasn’t a spring chicken by any means.  New to the core it may have been from renovation, but the guts were still pre-50’s and the steam that lit pipes from the inside before the larger furnaces kicked in and the ventilation blew it through the building were still early twentieth century.  The goliath thing was located through the tunnel network, close to where the morgue “pit” ramp was that allowed gurneys to privately escort the deceased to street level and their awaiting hearses.  Right before the steel door that had slammed shut to close off the hospital from the outside, there was another steel door, one that had always been there.  Keying through it, the tunnel was narrow and short, going under the street, to the building across it- a large, brick structure that looked as innocuous on the outside as it could get. Mottled and frosted double pained glass windows sandwiched embedded chicken wire in interesting patterns.  A beautiful feat of Art Deco industrialism, looking out of place next to the updated hospital, it still served its purpose.  Various times during winter, it would billow steam from its short stacks, hovering over the park nearby in an eerily beautiful seen but unfortunately attracting the pigeons she hated so much that wouldn’t allow her to eat her lunch in the park without being accosted.  Right now she hoped its older appearance would cause most to not realize it belonged to the hospital. 

     

    Trotting toward the end of the tunnel, a stream of relieved air blew from between her lips.  There was no door. No steel door had slammed down, because someone had removed the damn thing from the looks of it along time ago.  She could get her brother in this way, if she could find out how the hell to let him know. Hell, she could get to the surface this way, the utility steps leading up and out another heavy door to the parking lot next to the building across the street from the hospital. The temptation to peek at what the zoo was doing outside was unbearable; she had to stay on point. 

     

    This giant thing, half underground, metal and iron and steel, glared back at her.  She had to shut it down.  The heat would shut off in the building, default at fifty degrees.  Plus, if it was venting outside, could it be possibly spreading this thing?

     

    Shut it down.

     

    Okay. How.

     

    She rubbed grime off of dusty pipes, words emerging.  Nothing. Shit.

     

    Okay.

     

    Big red power button.  She hit it with her palm.  The orange default light lit up.  Dials started to drop minutely.  It would cool down, or blow up, maybe not. 

     

    She skittered back through the tunnel on her way to the biohazard lab.  The thrumming words from over the loudspeakers finally coming together in her head.  Dr. Gale.  Was it the same man that had given her the card?  The card she kept under a magnet on her fridge at home? 

     

    Help. Hopefully.

     

    Back to the task at hand, the maze of halls only she knew were navigated with certainty.  Now that it was spreading through the hospital, should she turn the vent system back on?

     

    She would turn the AC on, but circulate it?  Shouldering another door beneath the goliath, she couldn’t take any more time deciding before she made it to the biohazard lab.

     

    Boiler off, the temp would drop, but it would take days.  AC on, she wouldn’t have to turn the air circulation on, it would drift.  The ER though, would become freezing.  She knew temperature, controlled it, had to listen to people bitch about it every day… and was a walking thermometer herself. Heat would rise, cold would settle.  If it was already airborne the top floors of the hospital were about to become a nightmare.  Weighing the risk of spreading it through the circulation, versus the circulation being cold, she chose to turn the air back on and crank it down to fifty.

     

    Biohazard lab.

     

    She was running, every step of the way, only now realizing she was getting winded.  She shouldn’t be getting winded… if she had been just using her human strength.  The magus was also exerting energy to keep herself cold and had no idea where her wall was anymore.

     

    Damn it.

     

    Cute pink tennis shoes skittered to a halt at the turn, yanked from her thoughts and the fact she’d been saying the combination over and over in her head. She wasn’t good with numbers. That was her brother’s forte.  Understatement of the year.

     

    The guy in the lab coat was just standing there, clipboard at his side.  Right in front of the biohazard lab, staring at the floor.

     

    A peach curl was moving in front of her eyes.  Odd what your brain focuses on in emergencies.  Odd indeed.

     

    [maree]…um… hello..?[/maree]

     

    Blank eyes looked at her.  There was no time.  Full brogue oxfords squealed against the tile on a dime, clipboard flipping into the air, sprinting at her with some kind of flailing labcoat cape.  He closed the distance faster than was humanly possible, giving her only a second to…

     

    Jesus.

     

    Smack of her skull on the wall as the infected doctor's force crashed into something sent her vision into sparks, the shower of ash coating her skin as her back slammed the floor, outstretched arm shaking as the shimmering film of something just beyond her hand meant to shield the thing’s blow dissipated and she blew out the held breath.  The clipboard was stilling teetering on the floor, it had happened so fast.  Fingertips were stared at a moment, the sound of more footsteps sending her instinct into full motion and rolling upright to sprint toward the biohazard lab.  She was hurt, not sure what, but she didn’t have time to figure it out.  She also didn’t have keys for this, she didn’t have the training for this!

     

    Hand slapped on the keypad, not knowing what she was asking it to do, pulling her hand back in a shower of sparks but the doors opened.  Pushing through the next, she locked herself in from the inside and began to barricade the door.

     

    This was not happening.

     

    There were more, maybe three.  Four?  Head was woozy, lashes fluttering a moment as she clutched her chest.  Heart was skipping beats.  A few desks bolstering the lock from her side, she looked for the safe, knee hitting the floor.  Did she have a concussion?  Shit.  Shit!

     

    No, fingers clutched her chest, focusing on her breathing… scanning the room for the safe.  There it was. Pushing up and reaching for the phone…  she picked it up and dialed the four digit code to Asher's OR- the floor number plus the room number, punching the combination into the safe and opening it to start pulling things out, wary eyes on the door that was being beat to death from the other side... and trying not to pass out.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    Atticus pulled the syringe out of Amber’s arm, discarded it, then applied a cotton swab to the puncture. The nurse offered to administer one to him but he waved it off. The flu like symptoms that it would bring on would only hinder him at this point and Atticus needed his wits and other faculties.

    Fortunate to find a printed map of the hospital in the sparsely stocked desk, he studied the layout, sketching himself a quick map to the Biohazard Lab on a piece of paper. He had never learned the exact location of the quarantined patient before Doctor Lin was killed but he had to be there. Of course using the phone would have allowed him to verify that assumption, if there was one. ’Goddam budget cuts’. There wasn’t much in the office, it’s contents stripped and dispersed to other areas of the hospital.

    [npc]You can’t leave me here.[/npc] The nurse pleaded.

    She was scared. It was a natural response and she knew it too. Still, it was a far more difficult situation to deal with when you were the one being directly effected.

    [atticus]Keep the door locked and stay quiet and you’ll stay safe.[/atticus] He consoled, not mentioning the other factor in the equation, the one they couldn’t do anything about; the one she was just as aware of as he.

    Being in such close proximity to the zombies meant they were most likely exposed to the virus. It was only a matter of time now. Approximately a little over an hour based on Kyle Turin’s arrival and the exposure of all those who either had direct contact or were in close proximity to him. There were other factors to consider to be sure, age, race, over-all health, to name a few but Atticus was certain that for most the first symptoms would appear after an hour. Unfortunately, in a hospital there were always patients with compromised immune systems. This new strain would tear through them like wild fire and it would seem that standard z-antivirals had little to no effect. The eight people whom they were aware had contact with patient zero had all been given anti-virals as a precaution.

    Standard protocol was to stop all forced air in the building. He’d have to locate the furnace room as well but no sooner did his gaze return to the map did Atticus sense a sudden decrease in the pressure of the building. Being like the ‘wind’ meant he was in tune with it; could read barometric changes with absolutely certainty. Quickly standing, he placed his hand over the vent above him to confirm what his extra-sensory awareness had already detected. Someone had already shut down the furnace.

    It was time move. Atticus snuck a quick peek through the venetian blinds to check on Curly, Larry and Mo. They were gone.

    [atticus]SHIT![/atticus] Atticus hissed under his breath. The zombies should have continued to munch on Doctor Lin for at least another half hour.

    Sneaking out the door and carefully, quietly, closing it behind him the big man smoothly scampered behind the cover of the counter and peeked around the side. He could hear the faint click of Amber locking the door behind him as he slowly stepped into the hallway, eyes slowly sweeping the area for ’slumbering’ zombies. It was a tactic, for lack of better term, that zombies instinctively employed when there were no active food sources about. Conserving energy by going dormant and waiting for their next meal to stroll on by. Effective in high traffic areas but it seemed the ’Stooges’ were cut from different cloth.

    Atticus inspected Lin’s body and noted that they had only consumed the most choice cuts of meat. They had left the appendages, the supporting muscles and the head intact which would allow the body to turn and further spread the virus through the direct contact. It was the latter half of the theory that he focused on. The Z-Virus was beautiful and highly complex, it conducted all the behaviour of the walking corpses. It was inefficient for the host bodies to waste fuel and leave them to rise unless they were designed to move fast, suggesting that the virus’ life might be shortened. Not only that, but Atticus suspected that the third generation carriers were probably no longer airborne.

    Reaching behind the counter Atticus grabbed some slides and ‘q-tips’, tossing some extras in his pocket. He needed a sample of Lin’s blood for comparison. Then, obtaining a pair scissors, thrust the blades deep in to the infected man’s eye socket, damaging the brain and hopefully preventing the change. Zombies didn’t need a lot of brain to work, so sometimes it didn’t work, but he was trying to avoid making loud noises.

    The hospital was eerily silent. Everyone had sought refuge behind locked doors and were instinctively keeping noise levels at a bare minimum to avoid attracting the zombies. A loud bang down a connecting corridor caught Atticus’ attention. It had to be one the ‘eight’. Bloody foot prints smeared the floor around Lin’s body and took off in three separate directions at fast paces. The zombies were instinctively splitting up to maximize the spread of the virus.

    They went off in every direction, there’d be no avoiding them, so Atticus followed the most direct route to the Biohazard Lab, his gate quick and stealthy. The bloody tracks quickly faded, completely obscured by the time he reached a crossroad in the Emergency Centre of the hospital. He checked his map. The laboratory was on the north side of the hospital and there were several routes he could take to get there. Screams echoed from his left, strange guttural chatter the decidedly encouraged Atticus to press on through the double doors before him.

    It came out of no where! Just as Atticus’ hand rose up to press against on the swinging doors a zombie hammered against it from the other side. It had to have been moving at full speed. Two hundred plus pounds of a robust male physique slamming against the heavy door drove the back of Atticus’ own hand into his forehead. There was a bright flash of white and he felt the floor strike him from behind.

    Instinct took over. Atticus’ powerful leg lashed out in defence, catching the zombie in the chest and hurling the maniacal thing over him and down the corridor. It quickly scrambled onto to it’s fours and charged but the big man had already flipped onto his feet. He couldn’t believe how fast the zombie was, an adrenaline charged corpse with no physical inhibitions. It lunged at Atticus’ abdomen, mouth agape, passing right through, it’s face crushing into the concrete pillar behind.

    He had held his ground, bating the thing and at the last moment dematerialized, becoming the wind. His form seemed to melt into nothing. A ghostly representation momentarily remained, vanishing then reappearing, instantly reforming behind the zombie after running straight into the column, his shoe driving hard into the back of the creature’s head. Inhuman strength compressed the skull against the pillar and shattered it. The zombie twitched and collapsed lifelessly to the floor as Atticus gracefully sprung back, ready for more.

    There were no others.

    Atticus let out a long exhale and inspected his forehead with probing fingers. He was lucky to have head like a rock. The zombie hadn’t faired so well. Another blood slide later and Atticus was on the move again. He was getting close to the lab and growing anxious to take a look at Mr. Kyle Turin but it would seem that if in fact things could go wrong, they often did. Straight down the corridor head of him was the door to the Biohazard Lab and in front of it, absolutely battering the crap out of the metal door were four more of the original ‘Crazy Eight’, or at least he hoped those were the only infected.

    ’Were they somehow attracted to Turin’s body?’ Atticus couldn’t make any sense of it but he wasn’t going to try and figure it out. He needed to get into that lab.

    The main door sealed, Atticus knew this because the red warning light above was flashing but for him there were other ways in. There always were but in this instant they were indeed limited. From experience he knew the lab was sectioned. There were four biosafety levels based on the agents or organisms on which research was being conducted. Turin would be in the ‘biosafety level 4’ area separated from the main part of the lab through which personnel entered. The entry area was ‘biosafety level 1’ where research was conducted on open benches without the need for special containment equipment. Airflow was managed by a decontaminating filtration system with it’s own isolated intakes on the roof of the building. It was the only way in for the elemental, but it was not without risks. He could only maintain the form of the wind for a ‘human breath’ — a representation of his biological semblance existing within the elemental realm. He had to make through in that time or the results could be disastrous.

    Atticus was on his way to the roof of the building. Reappearing in the darkened hallow of an a elevator shaft he hovered in the air, winds stirring about him, tossing his hair, ruffling his clothes. He shot up like a silent missile, melting into the air and once again re-materializing on the roof where he quickly located the air maintenance system for the biohazard lab.

    Now was the true test of his power. Like a free diver about to descend into the dark depths of the sea he slowly breathed in and out, focusing his mind on the task, preparing himself for the dive. He would have to bypass several fan systems and filtration units, violent, disorienting whirlpools to an entity of the elemental realm. Made all the more deadly due to the fact that he had but one breath to make it through the gauntlet.

    One more breath and Atticus plunged into the unit, his non-corporeal form squeezing through the small turbulent shaft. The elemental realm was incomprehensible to the physical, not only did Doctor Gale’s physical form change but his mind as well. There was no sense of up or down, of fixed form, even time seemed to slow. The first fan might have been a vortex of immense proportions, it’s power to scale was every bit as strong as a tornado but he managed to pass beyond. Next, the filter, a quagmire of suffocating blackness, compressing his form, crushing him. He was trapped! Panic ensued, he needed to escape… to breath!

    Not too far away from Maree a ceiling vent began to vibrate. The coated aluminium flexed and billowed as the elemental struggled against the system’s pressurized control. A loud pop preceded the rush of an icy gust of wind instantly cooling the temperature of the room. The ghostly image of a winged man flashed in the air, replaced by the physical form of a man falling to the floor with a thud.

    He’d made it.

    Lying there for a moment, relishing in the sensations around him, Atticus promised himself never to do that again. Then propping himself up the first thing he noticed was the red headed woman rifling through a cupboard in the wall. Not a cupboard, a safe. She was looking for something… or stealing something, Atticus couldn’t be sure. She looked strangely familiar. No, the coincidence was uncanny. ’The woman from the museum?’ Was it her? Atticus couldn’t be sure, right now his attention was completely focused on the bio-4 lab. Staring through the glass walls of the darkened room there was nothing there. Empty!

    [atticus]Where is Doctor Asher?[/atticus] Atticus blurted out as he rose to his feet, still staring incredulously at all the empty labs around him.

    This was bad. Where else could he be quarantining the infected individual?

    [atticus]Is Turin contained?[/atticus] he asked again, scenarios spinning through his mind as he reached into his pocket to ensure that the blood slides were still safe. [atticus]He’s going to need these samples if he hopes to neutralize the new strain.[/atticus]

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    Long fingers tugged at his collar as the room became stifling. The air was off. Her doing? She was one hell of a "janitor". Tips grazed the mask, wanting badly to take it off and try to grab a fresh dreg of air but the itch was tempered by the knowledge that there was a good chance this thing was already airborne.

     

    What was really puzzling was his damn patient. No symptoms yet, barely a fever which was likely more to do with the bite wound than the infection. It was almost like…like.

     

    Frown descended as he went back to the slide. He was right, particulates were already hovering off the glass, but that was not what he was looking for. Sample was slid off the base of the microscope as he moved to take a fresh blood sample from Turin. Needle found the vein quicker than any nurse could as skills the world rarely saw anymore in medicine were put to work. Back of a gloved hand slid over the moisture on his brow as he plucked a new slide from the box and expressed the fresh sample onto the surface and pushed it under the scope.

     

    [declan]….fuck…[/declan]

     

    Soft swear came as he pushed the rolling chair from the counter and stared at the man on the gurney. The second sample should have been showing either advanced signs of transformation or the anti-viral working hard to clear up the infection. It was showing the trained eyes neither. Pushing up off the stool he began to pace, the strides calm and rhythmic as the scientific mind began to mark off options. Again and again the same one came to the forefront. The kid wasn’t infected, he was a damn carrier, a ticking time bomb that had been sent into the city. Pieces were falling together as he paced waiting for the damn phone to ring. The strain was clearly engineered, the kid's injury and panic were real so likely he had no idea which meant someone had infected him, then sent him off as a living weapon.

     

    This was a new hell that even he and all his research and experiments to improve on the antivirals had not seen coming. Breath exhaled sharply, noticing for the first time the chill against his lips. She had managed to drop the temperature.

     

    He needed his notes.

     

    Flinch ran up his spine as the phone broke into the silence of the OR. Long strides covered the distance but fingers hesitated to touch the speaker when the small screen betrayed the biolab. She was supposed to be at x-ray. Switch was flicked up.

     

    [declan]….Ma….Jo?[/declan]

     

    He caught himself, strange that at a time like this he even remembered.

     

    [declan]….did you get the binders? I can't get the pages from there, you need to go to xray to send them over.[/declan]

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    • 2 weeks later...

    As papers were shuffled trying to find what she was looking for, muscles jerked every time one of those things slammed on the glass and caused the desks to vibrate.  The door was sealed, closed, locked, however the hell she did it she didn’t exactly know- to get through they were going to have to break through the door.  The desks would slow them a moment, maybe.  Could she do a repeat of the shower of ash she’d done before; the strange power that produced a waterfall of light that could burn almost anything coming for her to dust?  She was about to find out…  eyes flicking immediately to a vent that was starting to shake, fingers stretching slightly to find that odd sensation that seemed to appear on a whim when she was in full panic mode, instead shielding her eyes at the flash of light and resounding thud.

     

    Face puckered at the chill, clutching the papers to her chest as she watched the man? seem preoccupied for a moment before turning his attention on her. She knew him, at least she thought she knew him… from the museum?  Attention flicked back up to the grate, then to him. Is that why he’d talked to her? He knew more than what she’d known about herself at that time in her recent history.  Well that was…

     

    …a bit disconcerting.

     

    "Where is Doctor Asher?  Is Turin contained?"

     

    She jumped up herself and picked up the phone, shuffling the notes in some semblance of order as she searched for something to put them in. Getting to the x-ray lab, or back downstairs to the OR would be a complete failure if she got tackled and every bit of paper scattered to the four winds.

     

    [maree]They’re both in the OR… never got this far before the shit hit the fan.[/maree]   ….no time for introductions.

     

      "He’s going to need these samples if he hopes to neutralize the new strain."  

     

    [maree]He needs these notes too, I was supposed to get them to the x-ray to send them down but…[/maree] she nodded toward the door, which shuddered again, a spiderweb crack beginning to glitter across the glass.

     

    Sooner rather than later…

     

    Numbers punched in, the voice on the other end was one she did want to hear, explaining to him it would be a few minutes longer because the world was falling apart was going to be a bit harder to choke out.

     

    "….did you get the binders? I can't get the pages from there, you need to go to xray to send them over."

     

    [maree]Good news is I got them… and I ran into a gentleman here, Dr… Dr. Gale that also has some samples for you.  If he’s CDC I’m sorry, didn’t have much choice…[/maree]  Men dropping out of ceiling vents didn’t leave her many options.  She knew the name would come eventually and hoped it would mean something to Asher, eyes still keenly on the doors as they continued to be battered.  [maree]Bad news is… [/maree]

     

    The sound of glass cracking caused the phone and binders to clunk onto the desk.  It had become instinctual, like hands up to shield oneself before a dog lunged to attack. Instead it was fraught with light akin to the crack in the sky, pushing outward from her fingertips against the failing glass on the other side of the room.  It had worked before… on one.  There were four.  It pushed back against the desks as they pushed through, charring, melting, their physical strength pushing the desks against her, feet sliding backward, the defensive line as she leaned into the opposing force.

     

    She was losing ground.  They were too strong.  She was too small.

     

    Heat, more heat.  Hold the line.

     

    The spindles of light flushed down her arms, through her veins to her fingertips, teeth gritting to push it past the charred and warped desks and directly into the bodies that were coming through the broken glass.  Zombie flesh began to singe, nothing… no show of pain or cease to try and attack them both.

     

    The first, singed and charred into bone crumpled, the next climbing over top to the same fate.  The third… her head was heavy, her own skin starting to singe…  she could feel it happening again. WHY?!  Why was she this weak?!

     

    [maree]Gonna lose this round…. Gale, take those notes and go![/maree]

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    ’Still in the O.R.?’

    Atticus’ gaze fell to the notebooks. No doubt Asher’s research on the topic at hand. He didn’t want to risk moving Turin which meant that the man was convinced that his particular strain of the virus had not yet spread. He had to see this patient.

    Asher’s plan was obviously for the ‘nurse’ to make it to x-ray, scan the pages he needed and send them over to him. Not a bad plan, but with one flaw, soon to become a serous problem in the form of four of the original crazy eight zombies infected by Turin’s strain.

    Skulls void of pain continued to hammer the entry way until the repeated concussive force weakened and shattered tempered glass. The creatures tore into the room, teeth chattering with an unbridled bloodlust of the likes never seen by Atticus through all his years studying the phenomena.

    They charged in and were met by a radiant force emitted by the woman. He could immediately feel the heat but there was something else. It seemed combined with some kind of kinetic force. Whatever, it was hot enough to singe their flesh and completely toast one, then another. Unfortunately as the super-charged zombies continued to relentlessly bull their way through her barrier her strength began to wane.

    ’Lose?’ Atticus had his fair share of losses but when it came to zombies, there was simply wasn’t gonna happen.

    Atticus picked up the binders and tucked them under a thick arm but he wasn’t going anyway. Not without her.

    [atticus]Get ready to run your ass off.[/atticus] He warned, and that said raised his free hand high above his head.

    Marie could feel a pop in her ears as the pressure of the room drastically changed then as his hand fell like a great fan, there was a vehement gust of wind. A blast so strong that it’s explosive power hurled the last two zombies to opposite sides of the room. Flames swirled about, the after effects of the woman’s power momentarily igniting the air as one of the zombies smacked flat against the glass wall of one of the biohazard labs. The other spun through the air snapping it’s lower leg on a countertop as it bounced off and continued into the glass wall of the lab on the other side of the room.

    Atticus moved with inhuman speed. Long powerful strides quickly crossed the distance to the shattered doorway, hurtling the makeshift barrier in a single bound before pausing for the nurse. He wouldn’t leave her behind to the parasites, that and he needed her to take him to Asher. They were going to personally deliver the doctor’s notes and she knew the hospital layout far better than him.

    The zombies were moving as soon as they hit the floor. Numb to pain they scrambled to their feet like lifeless marionettes and pursued their quarry. Only the one with the broken leg was somewhat slowed. The sound was sickening as the zombie continued to use it’s damaged leg, the broken bone protruding just below the knee.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    [maree] Good news is I got them… and I ran into a gentleman here, Dr… Dr. Gale that also has some samples for you. If he’s CDC I’m sorry, didn’t have much choice…[/maree]

     

    He was relieved when she finally spoke but instantly the relief turned to a dark scowl as he listened to her voice over the speaker. Gale…..Gale, Gale, Gale…. Why was that name familiar? Her mention of CDC didn’t make the connection to the name for him so that didn’t feel like the issue. Head shook to no one in particular.

     

    [declan]…don’t worry about it. I do really need those notes. Looks like he is an infected asymptomatic carrier which means I really need to figure out how long he can infect others or if its permenant…..if you…[/declan]

     

    [maree] Bad news is…[/maree]

     

    Crack violently reverberated through the speaker. Something was attacking? Fuck! They had infected in the hospital already. He was right, it was airborne.

     

    [declan]Maree…..MAREE!…[/declan]

     

    The line was ominously dead. Hand hit the button again trying to get her back only to be met with static. Shit! Silvery orbs narrowed at the patient who had fallen once more into a deep sleep. Fingers pushed up aggressively into the lengthy curls as the scowl of concentration creased his brow, elongated ears tipping faintly downward in annoyance.

     

    Huff escaped his lips softly as he moved to the refrigeration unit. First thing was first. He was exposed. Fingers ran over the anti-virals and pulled the Z batch out. He had been exposed so often to the big three and had to inoculate so often that he wondered when the moment would come that he was immune to the anti-viral and couldn’t fight off the changes. One advantage, he no longer had the heavy side effects of the anti-viral.

     

    Vein was found on the first try, burn of the serum tightened the jawline as he stared at sleeping beauty.

     

    If Maree was infected, she needed an anti-viral. If the whole hospital was exposed he needed to stay here and work on a solution. The fact that the brilliant medical mind even lingered on her before the population said she had left an impression on the aloof doctor.

     

    Ok. If he didn’t have his notes….. eyes searched the OR carefully. Equipment began to be unplugged and moved around until there was a MacGyvered set up that looked more like a lab at the stainless steel counter along the wall. Fresh samples were taken and he settled in to start taking notes on every attempt to get a reaction from the infection as he used the multitude of vials in the refrigeration unit to see the reactions.

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    "⚖ Get ready to run your ass off."

     

    Run, run?

     

    She released the shield as the pop pushed at her ears, leaning heavily on the desk.  The mage was going to be lucky to stay on her feet, somewhere finding the strength to straighten and move toward their escape route as his own brand of crazy sent the inhuman things crashing into glass and harder things.  It took her breath away for a moment, the residual blast of her own power mixing with his in a potentially catastrophic combination of forces… swirling the peachy curls that had sprung from her haphazard braid frayed long ago.  It was a spectacular blend of compatible powers, pushing herself up as the coast cleared momentarily, but her gate was slower than it should have been as Gale cleared the door and paused for her. She wasn’t fast enough… speed was not one of her unnatural gifts. In that department, just a human, and a nearly spent one at that.

     

    She had no time to think, the uninjured one was too fast.

     

    Guttural. It was the only word she could use to describe it. The pain erupting from within her chest, as if her heart was on fire and it was seeking a way to escape through her blood to her fingertips.  She knew the feeling, had felt it before in some sort of nightmare she could never bring to the forefront of her memories in the morning.  It was there now.  A memory.  A physical reaction to an imminent threat.  Violent. Beyond her current understanding but embedded in her psyche from an earlier time.  For a brief moment the mental block dropped.  Her body, remembered.  Up her spine, through her chest and out her palm the instant the more mobile of the two grabbed at her.  Her hand smacked on its forehead as it moved to tackle her, the reaction immediate.  A burst. No light show, no flames, a quiver of air upon contact.

     

    It dropped.

     

    Crumpled.  Every muscle dead.

     

    Unmoving, unresponsive.

     

    Dead?

     

    Lashes closed a moment, the world swirling as she caught her balance and looked at the other, moving toward the door instead. She wouldn't do that again, her skin hurt.  She was burned. It would have to wait. 

     

    [maree]This way…[/maree]

     

    Her voice felt distant, breath labored as she made her way to a jog and keyed through a service door to a maintenance corridor that cut across the building, elbowing a panic bar to descend downward.  Lights were flickering again. Not on account of the current crisis, just a lack of qualified maintenance.  Pink Nikes hit the bottom of the landing and punched the code into the ER.  She pointed to her plastic quarantined handiwork, palms on her thighs to catch her breath.

     

    [Maree]He’s in there,[/maree] voice was between hard breaths as she gestured, [Maree]We’re secure down here.  Go![/maree] 

     

    She just needed a moment to catch her breath, and figure out what the hell had just happened.

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    The adrenaline burst Atticus had banked on didn’t seem to make the redhead’s legs move any faster. She was spent.

    ’Shit!’ Tendons grew taught, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, then something happened that froze the man in his tracks. What it precisely was he couldn’t say but thing dropped like a stone from what looked like a slap to it’s forehead. An open palm packing a force he’d witnessed before or rather a technique that might have been similar. It was quite the display, one which seemed to take the woman by surprise as well.

    ’Was it dead?’ Difficult to be sure but often was the case when a zombie suddenly became still. Anyway, it wasn’t getting up, but it’s hobbled buddy continued the chase, relentlessly pursuing them at a slow pace.

    She lead, Atticus followed, protectively clutching the precious notes under his arm. They went by way of a maintenance passage saving time and avoiding any other zombies that might have been spawned.

    When he saw the makeshift plastic barrier over the door to the emergency room Atticus unconsciously let out an audible sigh.

    [atticus]Sorry.[/atticus] He apologized, knowing the situation could have easily been worse. [atticus]It’s a good seal.[/atticus] he complimented and if anyone was a specialist on airtight barriers it was Atticus.

    Now came the tricky part. They needed to break the seal to get the binders in. He couldn’t dematerialize with them and sneak through a minute hole, he’d have to generate a vacuum barrier when they lifted the tape. Atticus told her as much.

    [atticus]I’m going to prevent the air from escaping.[/atticus] he explained, which was no small task.

    Atticus raised his hands before him, eyes focused on the task. [atticus]Break seal and slide the binders through, be careful not let your hands pass under the plastic.[/atticus]

    Concentrating, the ‘Elemental’ prevented any air in the room from escaping, the plastic barrier shrivelling taught. It was working but when it came time for Atticus slip under they were both alarmed by a series of loud bangs. Distinctly the sound of fists pounding against a locked door, several of them.

    [atticus]Shit![/atticus] Atticus exclaimed, [atticus]They’re coming.[/atticus]

    Atticus smoothly slipped under the plastic, continuing to maintain the air barrier as he rapped on the door behind him. As he alerted Doctor Asher to his presence his eyes remained on the woman.

    The nurse suddenly had two choices, as far as he could see. Take her chances outside the ER or take her chances with direct exposure to the mutated z-virus. The decision had to be hers. Perhaps she was infected already, perhaps not. He had no idea how the virus behaved but once exposed to patient zero infection was pretty much assured. Of course remaining in the corridor could just the same lead to a sure and painful death. That is, if the creatures were able to circumvent the doors. It all depended how motivated they were, after all, something or someone had to be setting them off.

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    • 4 weeks later...

    He frowned as another sample failed to behave the way he wanted, heel of his hand pounding his forehead thoughtfully as he again let the scientific mind wander over pages of scribbles that were not here but still ghosted in his head.

     

    The real problem was this was clearly an engineered abomination of the virus and therefore was not behaving like the naturally occurring morteximius virus he had been studying the last nine years. He had no idea its range, no idea if the final transformation was different than mortex zombies, no idea if the bite infected as much as the airborne contagion. All his tests had revealed thus far was the airborne contagion only lasted about ten minutes in the air and that it died quicker in the cold. A test made more obvious as his warm breath gently curled white from his lips as the temperature change Maree had initiated was taking full hold on the ER.

     

    Frown lingered over the gray eyes as he glanced to his patient who thanks to the sedative was sleeping soundly through the whole damn ordeal. Based on the frantic messages that scrolled across the intercom screen it was clear the rest of the hospital was not as "relaxed".

     

    Huffing in annoyance he reset the centrifuge and moved to take fresh samples from sleeping beauty when sensitive elven ears picked up her voice outside the sealed doors.

     

    Maree?

     

    But the frown returned as a male voice commented on her seal. Who? That Gale man? But even as the doctor moved to the door he could tell there was something going on out there, the knock on the door drawing a scowl, they were coming in?!

     

    [declan]You cant break that seal! I have patient zero here! Whatever is going on out there can get a thousand times worse if we open him up to the public again![/declan]

     

    The damn CDC always running in and ignoring what was really best for the damn public. Bunch of fucking cowboys.

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    It was a good seal!  She knew this, knew the protocol, drilled into her head over and over every time she moved to a new location with her brother.  His sigh didn’t ruffle her feathers, unless there was something she didn’t know… worry quelled quickly when he reiterated she had done a good job.

    " I’m going to prevent the air from escaping."

     

    She nodded… she wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but from what she’d seen she knew he was capable.

     

    "You cant break that seal! I have patient zero here! Whatever is going on out there can get a thousand times worse if we open him up to the public again!"

    The doctor's features were distorted slightly, words muffled through the plastic… but she reassured.  Reassured with more than a normal human being could reassure, as much as she could muster anyway…. all the while decisions were being made on her own fate.

     

    [maree]You have to trust me,[/maree] pale jade was sympathetic, voice gentle.  [maree]I wasn’t always a janitor.  Everything is going to work out…[/maree]

     

    " Break seal and slide the binders through, be careful not let your hands pass under the plastic."

    She knelt and did as she was told, the small shove beyond a bit more than a natural push…move things, she could.  Attention snapped over her shoulder at the ruckus.

    " Shit! Theyre coming."

    [maree]Someone has to stay out and wait for my brother.  He’s coming to help.[/maree]  she took several steps back from the seal to let him secure himself inside.  [maree]Dr. Bodhan Marin.  Don’t worry, I got this.  I’ll keep them back until he gets here.[/maree]

     

    Even though she jumped from another round of vicious banging, smile was wistful and calm, leaving the men to realize one of the greatest minds in history had indeed survived the end of the world and was on their side.

     

    Now it was her turn to see what of herself had survived as well, unscrewing a mop handle from a recently forgotten bucket and starting a preemptive “watch” as she paced quietly and watched the locked doors shiver.  Pink Nikes weren’t in the forecast when the normally gentle janitor had perfected her physical art, but neither was a mop handle… the balanced thing in slow almost pendulic circles as she paced and spun it lazily through the fingers of one hand.

     

    Nothing was getting beyond that seal.  To, or from... how long she had to remember and mentally walk her muscles through her training was not on her side.  They were going to get in, just how long until then only the doors themselves knew.

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    He wanted to go back but it was too late. He’d literally crossed the line. Committed himself to the work, choosing the virus over everything else. The noble doctor. Narrow-minded and egocentric, forsaking all else in the name of science… for the good of the many.

    It was that slight gravely tone to her voice, those pale green eyes that confirmed the memories of her — the redhead from the museum. She wasn’t always a janitor, but what? A question he hoped to get the chance to ask if they survived. A question he should have asked all those years ago of whom turned out to be the sister of none other than the illustrious Dr. Marin. That the same brilliance coursed through her blood as well! The odds of it all were incredible! He had long followed the astute doctor’s career all the way back to when he was not but a promising student. A time long before the young Atticus Gale was born and the ‘unaltered man’ bore a different name; lived another life.

    Atticus shuddered. If Marin’s interest had been drawn to this incident just what were they actually dealing with? He had so many questions but they would have to wait. He hoped they could wait, and right now she couldn’t wait any longer. Unable to lend aid to Ms. Marin, or so he assumed to entitle her, he could at least eliminate the need for her to protect the operating room by getting out of sight as quick as possible.

    Melting into the air once more the elemental sifted through the cracks of the door and rematerialized on the other side. Solid once more, he wasted little time opening the portal and snatching up the binders before quickly locking it again. He hoped to avoid attracting the zombies and felt that he might have been successful. Either way, she was on her own now.

    Turning around, Atticus was accosted by the intensely shimmering stare of a vexed Elf. [atticus]Doctor Atticus Gale, CDC.[/atticus] he introduced himself, holding out the binders before him as a peace offering. The man’s irritation with him was understandable as he did break one of the cardinal protocols of viral management.

    [atticus]I took every precaution to prevent any contaminants from escaping the room.[/atticus] The explanation was apologetic, appealing to the doctor’s ‘otherworldly’ side. The part that could understand the extent of abilities such as his own.

    He was like himself after all, an ‘Altered’. Atticus could tell. While Quinn’s appearance had been transformed all other outer aspects of the man exhibited the characteristics of a born Human. It was a commendable effort for him to have remained a doctor after all this time, the air elemental knew well the distractions of ‘The Call’, as he liked to term it. The pull of their transformed nature, haunting their dreams, changing their very memories… erasing who they were. Many ‘Meta-Elves’ traveled south in search of a truth that only their own kind could offer and so only true conviction could tether such a being to this life. A belief so rigid that he would risk his life to prevent a viral outbreak that could potentially wipe out New York.

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    • 3 weeks later...

    He scowled through the warped window as she tried to reassure him that everything was going to work out. He wasn’t so sure he agreed. If this thing was airborne it likely already……

     

    [declan]…but Maree…..[/declan]

     

    Scowl deepened as the binders made the breech with enough energy that he was forced to hop out of the way. Hand slapped the glass as her visage vanished. Where was she going?

     

    He didn’t have time to contemplate the question as his sanctuary of research was violated. Elongated ears tipped faintly backwards in clear displeasure.

     

    [atticus] Doctor Atticus Gale, CDC[/atticus]

     

    [declan]…of course you are.[/declan]

     

    Words half growled at the larger man as he snatched the binders off the floor and marched over to his makeshift lab, top binder slid away as the second one was snapped open, pages flipped aggressively looking for his later notes.

     

    [declan]Always barging in and making a mess of things…[/declan]

     

    Words were growled more to himself than the man, brain still itching on the name. Somehow Gale till echoed a hint of familiarity.

     

    [atticus] I took every precaution to prevent any contaminants from escaping the room.[/atticus]

     

    Grunt was less than impressed with the insistence. As he read through several pages of chicken scratch, frown remained etched on his brow, an eye moving once more over the microscope lens.

     

    [declan]…if I am right…. its already escaped.[/declan]

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    • 2 weeks later...

    Her nod to Dr. Gale was a final one. She could take care of herself, there was no other option. It was an odd feeling that fell around her like vicious rain striking her skin.  Is this what her brother felt like when he was the only thing standing between something catastrophic and millions of unsuspecting innocents? It was breathtaking, her departure halted, snapping her attention back to the sealed room as Dr.Asher slapped the glass.

     

    Blink was quiet, the reaction so odd where everything before had been lukewarm and incredibly aloof. He was frustrated, and she had no way to help other than keep everyone out and get her brother in.  She had barely spent a moment contemplating strategy with the mop handle lazily spinning through her fingers when a vicious slam on the door startled her to the floor, pink Nikes in a sharp squeal.  Breath was too quick, was the whole world behind that door?

     

    She pushed herself up, picking up the handle in a firm hand, she was no hero.  The last person that should be out here was her… where had the bravado gone?  Jesus she was feeding off the panic in the hospital.

     

    Not now, not NOW!

     

    The door shuddered again, then went silent.  Swallow soft.  It occurred to her to try and bolster the entrances.  There simply wasn’t anything to bolster them with that they couldn’t tip over.  The waiting was terrible.  Fingertips touched the door, attempting to at least get a sense of what was beyond the door.  Panic.  Fear. Anger.  The anger was the worst.  Frenzied.  Faceless, spinning in an agonized confusion.

     

    Slam on the door made her stumble backward. This time, there was no time.  The door was open.  They were fast.  Two.

     

    She had to be faster.

     

    The flood of emotion they brought with her made her chest hurt.  It was a stifling wave, anger… it was drowning her consciousness, the itch up the back of her spine adding to the fray.  It wanted out. It all wanted out…

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    • 2 weeks later...

    The woman ever so carefully peeked out of the partially open door, surveying the empty corridor. Behind her, burrowed into the corner of the small office a man in a physician’s coat anxiously called out to her in a whispering voice. [npc]Cath! Cathy! Close the door.[/npc] he pleaded.

    Rolling her eyes she honestly didn’t know what was worse, her need for a smoke or Dr. Ramasekura’s persistent whining. Just a short distance away lied her salvation. Across the hall and down a short corridor was her office and cigarettes.

    [npc]Cathy! You are breaking protocol. Quarantine rules specifically state to…[/npc]

    [npc]Yes! Yes, I know.[/npc] She snapped, cutting off her ‘cell mate’s’ continuing regurgitation of proper procedure. The man was driving her insane. Under all other circumstances he was a good doctor and pleasant enough colleague. All she needed was a damn smoke!

    The craving had taken hold and she cursed herself for being so weak. They’d told her quitting wouldn’t be easy. She didn’t listen and like fool had believed she’d be different. The man was just scared and all she cared about was a goddam smoke. ‘Damn’. With a long cleansing exhale, Catherine, as she preferred to be called, mustered up a supportive smile for the frightened man. [npc]You’re right, you’re right. I —[/npc]

    Words were lost in a gurgling scream as the door burst open, striking her in the mouth, unconscious body spewing blood and teeth across the floor as she slid into the desk behind her.

    Doctor Ramasekura face frozen in a silent scream barely got his arms up in a desperate attempt to protect himself as the agile zombie leapt upon him. He didn’t know what else to do, helplessly screaming in pain and horror as it sunk it’s teeth into his arm. Closing his eyes tight, he prayed he’d black out but then as the long seconds dragged on he felt nothing. As trembling arms fell he slowly opened his eyes to find that the creature was gone. It had left! He was alive!

    Rising from the floor on unsteady legs, the small man made his way around the desk to find Cathy laying unconscious on the floor. Blood flowed from her busted mouth and a bite on her forearm. The zombie hadn’t even taken a morsel from either of them. A mystery in on itself, one that the doctor could care less in solving. In that moment all he cared about was surviving and to ensure that he needed an anti-viral. Thankfully, they were plentiful and he promptly found a pack in the top drawer of the desk.

    “It won’t do you any good.” Someone advised.

    Startled, the doctor looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. The softly spoken words bearing an Arabic accent, the speaker possessing the caramel brown complexion and features from that part of the world.

    [npc]Of course it will.[/npc] The doctor argued as he pressed the injector into his arm, [npc]Are you from the CDC?[/npc]

    The stranger was wearing a doctor’s coat but the clothing beneath it appeared to be military, black with many pockets, sheaths and holsters. Perhaps he was an officer sent in to destroy the zombies? ‘But why the coat then?’ Dr. Ramasekura considered.

    Without any further introduction or explanation the stranger knelt down beside his unconscious colleague and began examining her.

    [npc]Excuse me.[/npc] Ramasekura protested, cautiously circling round the desk.

    The stranger had plunged some kind of syringe into Cathy’s arm, but the extraction chamber was small and metallic. It looked more like a heavy dart. A diode on the strange syringe flashing an amber colour while on the man’s common looking smart phone a progress bar quickly increased in size.

    The doctor had never seen the technology before but ventured to assume that the syringe was compiling data from a blood sample and uploading it to a server via the device. When the diode flashed green and the device read, ‘Upload Complete’ then ‘Analyzing’ before a list of data appeared, Ramasekura was confident that his theory was correct.

    [npc]Just who are you?[/npc] Ramasekura pressed.

    The man just continued to study the figures on his device, then pulled out a sleek looking gun, pointed it at Cathy’s arm and squeezed the trigger. Following a soft sounding discharge a small dot of blood appeared on her skin as if she was shot with an extremely small projectile. Then with a swipe on his device a map of the hospital appeared and a blue coloured dot joined others, beside it a timer. A timer that was counting down.

    [npc]Look, whoever you are. You can’t do that.[/npc] The doctor ordered, taking a tentative step closer. He was not a brave man, but the stranger’s invasive treatment was unethical.

    Mottled amber eyes flashed up, almost bemused by the little man’s indignant stance. He licked his lips, an oversized protruding canine gleaming in the dark of his features.

    [npc]My God![/npc] The doctor exclaimed at the ‘inhuman’ sign. A trait that wasn’t often associated with benevolence.

    With unnatural quickness the stranger rose. A light flick of his fingers against the doctor’s chest throwing Ramasekura back into the chair behind him. He flopped into the seat, powerless to resist the stranger’s strength as he proceeded to then plunge the high tech syringe into his arm.

    [npc]I don’t why you’re doing this but please, at least give her the anti-viral.[/npc] The doctor implored, grimacing from the pain.

    “I told you, it does not matter.” The man replied coldly, like an unfeeling scientist talking to a lab-rat.

    [npc] Of course it does![/npc] He argued, [npc] Without she’ll…[/npc]

    The doctors words trailed off. Staring into those cool, heartless eyes Ramasekura realized the reason for the stranger’s apathy.

    [npc]It doesn’t matter, does it?[/npc]

    The stranger verified the doctor’s diagnosis with a dispassionate nod. “No one survive’s a bite from the airborne generation.”

    It was painfully obvious to the doctor then that this stranger was well apprised in the behaviour of this outbreak. He was monitoring it!

    [npc]Ho—?[/npc] Ramasekura momentarily lost his words while fighting back tears, [npc]How long do I have?[/npc]

    The stranger loaded a cartridge into the sleek black gun and shot the doctor in the chest. Ramesekura jumped from the brief bite of pain and a small dot of blood soaked into his white shirt. The tracking device inserted into his skin, the stranger awaited for his position to register on his device. Once it did, a countdown timer also appeared next to the blip.

    “Less than six minutes.” The stranger informed him, “Give or take a few. Everyone’s different. You know how it is, doctor.” He flipped the smart phone around allowing the doctor to see the screen, drawing the man’s attention to the red coloured dots. “Those turned by the airborne virus, however, do consistently expire within twenty-five to twenty-seven hours.”

    [npc]Fast moving invaders, but there should be more. The airborne virus dies quickly.[/npc] The doctor’s voice was strained, he was beginning to perspire.

    “Yes.” The stranger acknowledged, impressed by the doctor’s educated hypothesis. “The strain can only survive outside of a host for a few minutes, but can exist within a carrier for approximately twelve hours. Perhaps longer. We’re working on it.”

    The phone began to ring. Caller ID, ‘Unknown’.

    “Bil hana wish shifa.” The stranger bid the doctor in parting. The Egyptian Arabic words translating to, ‘Have a nice meal’.

    “Are the charges in place?” Asked the voice on the phone.

    “Yes.” Replied the stranger, exiting the room and strolling down the hallway.

    “Is Turin’s body secure?”

    The stranger paused and glanced round the corner of an adjacent corridor. Midway down, the doors that lead to the Operating Rooms had been slathered with blood which was attracting all the recently turned individuals on the floor. The regular run-of-the-mill zombies which were produced by the normalized virus. The virus carried by the ‘faster first generation breed’ created by the airborne strain.

    Two of the mindless creatures were instinctively bashing against the doors, their olfactory senses sent into a frenzy at the prospect of a feast. Others were coming. Seven more corpses in white coats and scrubs shambled toward the doors and added their weight to the previous two. The doors buckled and bent under the strain of the relentless dead.

    “Trapped in the O.R.” The stranger informed.

    “Then proceed with phase three.”

    The stranger ended the call and procured another device from his pocket. Activating it a series of coordinates appeared on the screen, each one coinciding with a charge he’d placed in the hospital. He tapped one of the locations and beside it flashed a bright red, ‘ARMED’.


    ——

     

    [atticus]I have yet to begin to make a mess of things.[/atticus] Atticus sarcastically proclaimed as he examined the unconscious patient.

    He couldn’t tell if Asher’s statement, “… its already escaped.” was metaphorical or literal, from his stand point it could go either way. The airborne virus circulating through the hospital or a mutated strain running around in those zombies originally turned by the man lying before him.

    Turin was pale and weak but in no way showing signs of the typical ‘turn’. He was the victim of a new strain, fascinating and at the same time frightening. It meant that he was a carrier of a virus with at least two separate stages in it’s life cycle. The host body of the original virus was merely an incubator for an airborne form of a mutated ‘morteximius’ producing faster, stronger, zombies. Extremely bad for Asher and now himself as both of them were exposed.

    [atticus]How are you feeling?[/atticus] Atticus inquired. Time had already started counting down for DeClan but it was difficult to know precisely just how much he had left.

    Awaiting to learn of his colleague’s condition via his own self-diagnosis Atticus thoughts turned to the ‘redhead’ and the brother she mentioned. [atticus]Did you know that woman’s brother was ’the’ Dr. Marin?[/atticus] Atticus mentioned to Asher. [atticus]Apparently he’s on his way here right now.[/atticus]

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    He could pace, but it would do no good. The normal incessantly busy brain was at a standstill. A rock in the world of panic that had sent him careening toward the airport. He HAD thought long and hard how Gabe would have felt with him galavanting off like a white knight. He had no choice. Gabe was immune, the rest of the world was not. Whereas Gabe would survive, the brilliant ginger and his precious sister would die. He knew they would. If her cryptic call held any truth, he knew this virus. He knew it well.

     

    He'd made it.

     

    Accidentally, of course. A centerpiece to the middle of the puzzle and he'd spent the last nine years making up for it. Experiments in a lone cabin. He had the key, and had abandoned the work for sake of study in that incessant crack in the sky. And love. A relationship he would kill to protect. He didn't regret it, he just regretted his mind had wandered onto other projects knowing that thing by his own hand was out there.

     

    He'd been used by his employers, and had let himself be used. And then had done practically nothing.

     

    Feeling the plane dip, still the patience was eternal. Nothing he could do right now would speed things up, or make them smoother. Eris was a fantastic pilot, had pushed the limits of her plane without the restrictions of an FAA. She would refuel and go back for Gabe. He would need him.

     

    Wheels on the ground, cell flipped open immediately, grabbing his things and taking the steps two at a time. A dark windowed chopper was waiting, woman at the helm, another man just inside and out of the light.

     

    [eris]Flip it out, now! [/eris] the tiny vampire barked in no uncertain terms. Mouse was on it immediately, refueling and turning the plane.

     

    He hopped into the helo, door slamming behind.

     

    *npc* Eris said if they take a shot at us, you clear them all. You stay with him Toby, kill anything that gets close. We're landing on the roof pad.

     

    Ahanu flipped a few switches and they were off the ground.

     

    Minutes, he'd see his sister in minutes. The frantic calls routing and rerouting. His sister worked in the ER. Calls were not being answered. He knew how numbers worked. Brain taking in the messages after messages of unanswered stations and narrowing the digits second by second until methodically each ER bay started to ring.

     

    A particular redhead hearing the rings, occupied... the last one finally ringing through to a phone in a plastic sealed room....

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    • 3 weeks later...

    [atticus]I have yet to begin to make a mess of things.[/atticus]

     

    The silver orbs narrowed at the large man, eartips tilting backwards in clear hostility before the gaze snapped back down to the psychopathic scribbles in his binder.

     

    Thousands. Hundreds of thousands of tests. Just as many experiments. And nothing had acted the way this virus was acting. But the doctor's mind didn’t work in simple patterns and he saw the anomalies for what they were; engineered derivatives of the naturally occurring morteximius-virus. He didn’t have time to ponder why anyone would even attempt something so heinous. He had to focus on how to stop it in its tracks.

     

    [atticus]How are you feeling?[/atticus]

     

    [declan]…at the moment….annoyed.[/declan]

     

    The grumbled response was half under his breath as he pulled up to the microscope to look under the slide he had sitting there. This wasn’t his first run in with the CDC. He had been performing a heart valve replacement. His patient was only seven and had been born with a flap defect that couldn’t be fixed so he was putting in a mechanical one. He had her chest cracked open, bypass machine whirring away as he cut the defective valve out. With blood up to his wrists the damn agent waltzed in; no disinfection, no mask on, just waltzed into his closed off ER because there was a rumor he was working on a lycaneximius-virus infected and was potentially exposing the city to an outbreak.

     

    The battery of questions that the man had begun to assault the doctor with was met with a fist cracking so hard across the idiot's jaw, the doctor had knocked out one of the agent's teeth. He was fairly certain he was on some CDC hitlist.

     

    Back of his hand wiped the bead that was dripping down his brow despite the frigid temperature that Maree had managed to get the ER down to. Truth was, he was feeling the effects of the anti-viral which normally he never reacted to anymore, the measure used so many times in the last five years. Logic therefore said it wasn’t the anti-viral making him flush…. it was the virus itself.

     

    [atticus] Did you know that woman’s brother was ’the’ Dr. Marin? Apparently he’s on his way here right now.[/atticus]

     

    Frown curled the brow as the ears dipped, notes being scribbled next to his old notes.

     

    [declan]…you always chatter this much?[/declan]

     

    It was acting like anthrax so maybe…..

     

    [declan]…hey… make yourself useful. Check the cabinet for Raxibacumab and Dexamethasone.[/declan]

     

    Marin. That was where he knew the name from. In the end it didn’t matter who he was if the virus became widespread before he got there. Lips parted to say something else but the phone caused the elongated ears to twitch. Stool rolled abruptly out from under him as he got up and made the phone in just three long strides. He didn’t bother with the intercom this time, phone snatched off the cradle and hitting his ear.

     

    [declan]…Maree?[/declan]

     

    Voice had barked a bit strongly. Consciously he had not been concerned. Unconsciously he was in a bit of a panic at what might have become of the woman.

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    4.png "…Maree?"

     

    Eyes blinked immediately at the sound of the phone picking up and his sister’s name, grabbing the side of the chopper door as it lurched slightly.  Ahanu was avoiding something.

     

    [bodhan]Is she with you?[/bodhan]  sprang from his lips before he had the chance to think, backtracking immediately.  They had an unspoken promise to each other.  Save the world, then save his sister.  That had seemed to go out the window in the last decade, sucking it back in now that his heart was in his throat was more excruciating than ever.

     

    *npc*  We’re not landing on the roof.  It’s locked down.  Can’t get in from up here.  Mouse can you get me some help here before these fuckers shoot at my ass.

     

    Eyes snapped up at her, the chopper turning in a circle as it hovered.  Something was wrong, he could feel it... the ginger did not have special powers, but the bond between twins was something that even the Nevus could not interfere with.  His fingers smacked the glass, looking below them.  The place was surrounded, steel doors   Were they going to get shot at?

     

    Maree worked in the ER.  Other than that, he knew nothing that was going on inside other than what she’d said in her broken message.  Was he talking to someone that would know what to do?  He was talking to someone that knew Maree. There was a chance.  He could just be talking to the secretary of the children’s ward though too...

     

    [bodhan]My name is Dr. Bodhan Marin.  Listen carefully.  The virus is an expedited version of the original.  Engineered.  Pieces of a puzzle latched together.  It slows in cold, goes into epidemic mode in heat, and is destroyed at high heat and fatal level fevers.  Anything that agitates the adrenal glands mixed with anything you have that treats inhalation anthrax works best when both are mixed and aerosolized.  It will not cure anyone infected, but it will kill it in the air.  I haven’t found a way to make soft tissues immune yet.  Infected will still have a contagious bite. They are fast, lethal, and this will agitate them more.  Pump it into the air system in the highest doses you can.[/bodhan]

     

    He finally stopped to take a breath.  His eyes were searching the building.  Entry point.  Entry point.  Old boiler room.  Would Maree think of that?  He pointed, Ahanu nodded.

     

    *npc*  Sorry Toby, you’re gonna get some sun.

     

    The vampire scowled as the woman lowered the chopper as close as she could to the ground in the greenspace out from the hospital.  If they didn’t know the old service building was an access point to the entire mess, they would very shortly.

     

    *npc*  They’re gonna chase you like wounded deer.

     

    *npc*  Possibly, but we're going in not out... it's our own deathwish.

     

    He continued into the phone, unsure if anything was even being heard.

     

    [bodhan]Infected but not yet symptomatic will still degenerate.  Those not infected, may die from the cocktail if they have other drugs in their system that will react.  Where are you?  The entire building is closed off, we’re going to try the boiler station across the street. Can we get through there?  I will stay on this line as long as I can, if Maree is with you tell her I’m coming.[/bodhan]

     

    Backpack was on his shoulders, hood up on his hoodie as he pulled his sidearm and pushed the door open.  Toby was in full pissed off mode, hood up as well and moving toward the side door as soon as he was out of the protective range of Eris’ special tempered glass.  A shout was quick from the direction of the barricade outside the building.  Gig up, the two scampering at full speed through a line of trees, Toby smashing into the door and slamming it behind them and jamming the door.  Stairs and more stairs…  and a tunnel, the phone crackling and losing signal.

     

    Stomach in knots, muscles sore... he never had a chance to test the vaccine he'd shot up with on the plane.  He was his own guinea pig... and here's to hoping it worked.

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    There was more. More beyond the ER than just horrible agitated static, pain and palpable fear. There was malice.  It was sickeningly sweet in her throat, beyond the door, beyond the banging that threatened to break through with a freight train of death that would probably most likely lead to her own.  She could hear it on the air, see it in the aura, smell it… it was seeping toward her like it was staring back at her.

     

    This was no accident.

     

    The anger brought a furl.  So many dead, so many dead for what?  Malice.  That's what she felt.  What would malice have to feed into this?  It was purposeful, it was evil… they were all an experiment.  She would not be an experiment again!

     

    She breathed it; the inhalation a quivering molten air of her own making, every nerve in her entire body lighting to an electric surge that ripped up her spine, slithering across muscles under skin as the door buckled and she met them head on.  The mop handle became a vicious bowstaff, an intricate dance of mortal and magus skill an exquisite performance of artistry.. the first skull crushed, the second dropping in a fit of the odd pulse from earlier, the force visually rippling the air, lights flickering, phones chattering before falling silent.  It was an echo in her skull… one that echoed again to the next before it dropped, the light above her popping in a shower of sparks from whatever had escaped her fingers, skin slithering in heat as she shoved the staff forward and they slid backward.  There were memories exploding in her skull.  Horrible memories of her world in pain, nerves metaphysically razor stripped to the bone, shut out to protect her sanity.. Experimented on.  Powers triggered and raw.  Memories of waking, burned, hair singed off… the memories flooded back, shoving at the gaggle that threatened to push into the ER.  They slid backward again, teeth in a bit down grit and a growl of exertion at the telekinetic ability needed to hold back a hoard.

     

    She would not be an experiment!

     

    Muscles shuddered and she pushed again, heat following, clatter of shambling elbows and skulls falling backward and sliding down the hall.

     

    Bo.  Her breath echoed in her head.  She could feel him wash over her like a cool shower.  She’d been waiting, searching desperately for some sign of him in the building.

     

    As if on cue, gunfire, shattering skulls… and two hooded figures moving toward her down the hall.  One with military precision, the other out ahead with no fear.

     

    Herself? 

     

    The cooling of her skin proceeded a crack as her head hit the floor.  The world? 

     

    Spinning, and fading to darkness.

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    Atticus stooped down and methodically searched the refrigerated cabinet, thoughts touching upon self preservation. Naturally he pondered the effect this new form of ‘morteximius’ might have on his own physiology. Raxibacumab was an antibody for the prevention and treatment of inhaled anthrax, so Quinn no doubt had found the nature of the virus similar to the infection caused by the bacterium and sought to treat it as such. That meant that the first stage of the virus would most likely follow the same pattern as anthrax and in his case probably have prolonged symptoms. He wasn’t looking forward to that. An antibody in combination with a steroid just might be able to combat the new strain, that’s what Dexamethasone was, only he didn’t see any. Fortunately there were a few vials of Prednisolone, another class of steroid hormones, which was, in his opinion, a far more versatile treatment.

    Atticus placed the vertical vial holder before Quinn. [atticus]Here y—[/atticus] Words were cut short when the phone rang, the caller he believed to be from the redheaded nurse. ’Marie? That was her name?’ The impassive expression of the Elfin doctor betrayed very little.

    Leaning back against the counter large muscular arms folded against an equally powerful chest, eyes fell to the floor in thought. Pensive meanderings were then invaded by a dull, rhythmic thud. It persisted until the repetitive sound was recognized for what it was — the beat of helicopter blades. Head rising at the revelation, widened eyes flashed to the sealed the window. Atticus could only speculate what lied beyond the steel covering. ‘Was it the police? The Vanguard? What was happening out there?’

    Elsewhere on the same floor the black clad stranger with the Arabic accent pressed his thumb against one of the ‘ARMED’ locations on his hand-held device and a vehement blast shook the hospital. Fire erupted from an outer door in the west wing, the metal quarantine shield crashing into the hood of a parked car several meters away.

    [atticus]That was a detonated charge![/atticus] Atticus stated with certainty, his sensitivity to air pressure giving him a sixth sense about such things as the blast wave rippled through the building; acknowledging the slight shift in the equalized pressure of the sealed building. It was as if a stopper of a bottle had suddenly been pulled, causing a sudden change in the hospital’s air flow. [atticus]Holy shit! I think that was an outer door![/atticus]

    ‘But why? Standing their, completely powerless in his quarantined prison he couldn’t even begin to speculate what was going on. Then another explosion rocked the hospital, this one closer. Another iron shutter, this one covering a second floor window, crashed against the pavement of parking lot below.

    [atticus]The shields have been breeched. The virus![/atticus] Atticus speculatively concluded. [atticus]We have to do something![/atticus]

    Without thinking Atticus started toward the barrier. If he moved quick enough maybe he could stop the zombies, or seal the doors. He needed to do something, anything other than waiting for the first signs of the viral infection to appear.

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    As the big guy started to rummage for the anthrax treatments he calmed, settling in to flip the pages. He had a few trials where he had used the Raxibacumab, he was looking for those tests just before the vials were set before him and the phone rang.

     

    Her name had barely left his lips.

     

    [bodhan]Is she with you?[/bodhan]

     

    Ears snapped backward as a scowl blistered across his brow. Who the hell……..? But it was only a split second later that the lilt in the tone was recognized as a pair to the more feminine version. Others might not hear it, but the sensitive ears could detect the faint lilt of heritage in them both. Those same sensitive ears detected the noise behind the call. Helicopter? Didn’t sound like a car. The scowl only deepened as he was given a "lecture" by the great Dr Bodhan Marin.

     

    [bodhan]……Engineered. Pieces of a puzzle latched together. It slows…..[/bodhan]

     

    [declan]…no shit…[/declan]

     

    "Sherlock" was almost at the end of his mumbled complaint. The "great" words were nothing he hadn't already thought about. Aerosolized?....ok….that he hadn't thought of. But those infected…..

     

    Long fingers rubbed his furled brow. Time was running out for him and the others that were likely infected. Thick lashes blinked over gray orbs as he was asked where they were, the question taking a moment to sink in.

     

    [declan]….basement E….[/declan]

     

    The R was cut off as the phone the famous doctor was on lost signal the moment he entered the hospital. Security measure. They jammed phones so they wouldn’t interfere with equipment. Little trick that was also cutting them off from the outside world in a moment of crisis.

     

    [declan]…shit.[/declan]

     

    Receiver was slammed back into the cradle as his breathing came in irregular huffs. He needed to calm down. He was a doctor. He knew he suffered from PTSD. He also knew he was likely feeling some effects of the infection as well as the mega dose anti-viral he had given himself.

     

    Silver eyes looked at the Nord as if to calm himself with a focal point. Breath was forced to inhale slow and deep. Ears flinched backward at the gunfire. Focus. He had to stay focused.

     

    Feet were suddenly moving again, hands on the vials and beginning to rummage in the cabinets.

     

    [atticus] Holy shit! I think that was an outer door! The shields have been breeched. The virus! We have to do something![/atticus]

     

    Head snapped as the man made his way to the doorway.

     

    [declan]….get the fuck back here and make yourself useful![/declan]

     

    Cabinets were being thrown open in search of all the oxygen canisters, a large one tossed at the Nord.

     

    [declan]…start rigging those so we can mix them with an airborne version of the antiviral. We need to make it into an aerosol. [/declan]

     

    He was working with the drugs before moving to the other refridgerators, collecting as much as he could of the anthrax treatments and Z anti-virals. He needed to blend them so they could be equal parts when released.

     

    [declan]… going to need to figure out how to get it into the entire air system. Flood the hospital before it escapes more than it already has.[/declan]

     

    Moisture was dripping far too heavily down his temples.

     

    He was running out of time.

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