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He had been standing in the middle of the bullpen for hours now, tracking movement on a projector screen. They had decided to forgo using the monitors because the map required a larger surface area. His gaze followed each cluster as it moved, multiplied, seemed almost to be breathing and pulsating within the city limits. What had been one bite -- attributed to rabies -- suddenly became six, then twenty, and now they were looking at vectors in all corners of the city. Viral pathology was nothing new to the group; they had worked with Starro, Abner, and even Ivy on occasion. But this was not the same thing.
"We’re going to need all the field notes from this; anyone on the ground that can tell us what’s going on," Rick murmured, never taking his eyes off the screen. He was busy trying to think of disaster plans for his whole family: Evan at the hospital, Clara at the college, Ezra with Ellie at her house in Louisiana. There were too many variables, and he was being pulled in too many directions. Instead, he focused on the easiest task and tried not to remind himself that his family was still scattered throughout the East Coast.
"Sir, they won’t tell us anything except that it’s viral and it spreads rapidly."
The analyst was young, cocky, and probably thinking they were safe where they stood. In any other world, they would be, but Rick was not above pulling rank when needed. "They want me to go in there blind and contain it. I’m not moving from this spot until someone tells me what I’m looking at. The last time I went somewhere blind, I died, and that won’t be a repeat performance."
The analyst started to shake slightly at the mention of his death. It had been whispered in the halls, but Rick had been such a permanent fixture at ARGUS that most of the older people respected him like old furniture, and the new kids didn’t question him because the old dogs didn’t. "Colonel, all due respect--"
"No, you pull what you find. I don’t care if you need to go above them to do so. WE ARE THE DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, so you need to use that credibility for something before I show you how angry I can get!" His palm slammed down on the table, but he was still staring at the screen. The vectors hadn’t moved in a few minutes; not in growth, but they were spreading in different directions. No patterns to be seen, just random meandering. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he texted Ellie first. They weren’t together, but she had custody of his son, and he wasn’t going to sit and let her be as blind as he was.
El,
I need you to take Ezra and get to safety as fast as you can. Don’t ask questions, just move. I’ll meet you as soon as I can. Tell the baby I love him.
Her text came back almost immediately. I will. Are you in the middle of it?
He grinned quickly and shot back with: Always. Before checking for messages from Clara. Quinn was already halfway down the hall, staring at Rick from his position. "I texted Clara. She’s going to warn Evan at the hospital -- you know he won’t go willingly. Did you get hold of Ellie?"
"She’s got, Ezra. I have her heading to the house
until we can sort all of this out. It’s our best chance right now." Folding his arms, he studied the screen, his hand moving in different directions while he traced the patterns. "I don’t want to say zombies, Quinn, but I think that’s what we’re looking at. The viral architecture fits, the mapping models are extreme, but they’re present. And the similarities to rabies..."
"We haven’t dealt with them since--"
"Midway City, I know. But this isn’t spreading the same way Enchantress did. This is random. Hers was deliberate." Dropping his hands to his sides, he watched the analyst scurry back in, drop a folder, and take a step back. "Welcome back, Cooper. Glad to see you figured out what your position here is." Sliding the forward to himself, he opened it up and stared at the pages. "Annnnd we were right on the money, it seems."
Quinn, reading over his shoulder, looked between the folder and the map. "Initial reports from here," He pointed on the map to a town in West Virginia, then raised a brow. "Well, doesn’t that just make too much sense?"
"Do not make those jokes when you know damn well I was raised in Alabama, Guthrie," Rick closed the folder. "About an eight-to-six-hour trip from here, if we leave now. I can tell you right now that anything down south will probably be taken care of long before we get there; Grand Pappy and Baby Rooster both know how to shoot."
"Rooster," Quinn chuckled. "Is that a family name?"
"Load up, wheels up in about twenty. Gather the strike team, no metas yet. Senior hasn’t flipped on Angel Protocol yet. Keep tabs on Ellie and Clara as much as you can."
Rick had earphones on, staring at the map while it blipped on the tablet in his lap. He was very good at reading maps and doing the math on probability. What he wasn’t good at was navigating through the Appalachian mountains. Give him sand, sea, and air, but not mountains. Too many foothills to get lost in; too many variables he didn’t want to account for. "Right about here is where we want to touch down. It looks to be a pretty busy area, still fairly contained at the moment. But if this was ground zero, we need to evacuate who we can and save who we can’t."
Quinn nodded, yelling, though he didn’t need to. They always accounted for rotor wash and the headphones, though that was the purpose of the mic that Quinn, for some reason, never used. "Pinged Clara around the time we took off. She got Evan out of the hospital, but she won’t tell me how she did it, and she says, "Mom isn’t allowed to drive anymore. There are at least four dead pedestrians (?)" ...yes, the question mark is in quotations."
"That’s my girl. Tell her to listen to Jax and Ellie. She’ll be okay with them." Then he lowered his head and looked out the open door of the helicopter, studying the town they were going to be landing in. They had found a roof nearby that didn’t seem too old and could probably hold the weight of a bird and six men. Then, he watched the smoke rising from above the skyline; several buildings on fire. Probably, though not likely, from trying to eliminate whatever had attacked them.
"You really think that the virus is the same one you and I are infected with?" Quinn asked absently.
Rick didn’t know. He moved to the open door, harness still attached, and sat on the edge of the copter. Hooking his foot around the skid, he aimed with his rifle at the rooflines. "I can’t see movement up here, too much smoke. Looks like there’s some living in a building east of here. Maybe living, maybe dead, hard to really tell from this far."
"Colonel, we’re touching down in five. Roof access is still clear." It was one of the operators flying. He nodded when the copilot checked over his shoulder to confirm.
He still didn’t fully know what they were getting into or how bad it was going to be, but the way it looked made him nauseous with the memory of what Marie put him through. The helicopter touched down, then settled onto the roof of a supermarket, operators unloading in waves. They moved with brutal efficiency.
"Hear me now: nobody is allowed access to that helicopter if they are bleeding or bitten. Myself included. You are not expendable, but we will not be taking chances in an enclosed space. You will only escort those you can to safety; you are not to bring back strays. If they are visibly bitten, they get put down. If they appear to be feral cats, they get put down. I do not care if it is a child in the womb; we are not taking chances. Two teams, you know the drill. Low, slow, question everything."
A unified yes, sir erupted from the operators before they moved down through an access door on the roof. Rick stayed with Quinn for five seconds before clapping his shoulder. "Godspeed, Quinn. I hope you can come back to harass me later."
"Shut the fuck up, you know I’ll be back. I’m like an STD,"
"Do not ever make that comparison again," Rick grumbled as he took his rifle and aimed it at sightline. "Keep your radio on at all times. Ten-minute check-ins. Do not deviate from the mission. We are not neutralizing. We’re containing by any means necessary."