Another improvement was the development of the Sage Test, a blood test that had an 85 % accuracy at diagnosing Sage Flu. Several in the medical community thought this was overkill, their opinions gaining strength as months went by without any new Sage cases springing up, but after the outbreak, the public demanded its enforced use. That was the only reason the test was run on Corey.
Marcie Hayward was the doctor on duty. While Corey was in obvious distress, the doctor assumed it was just a particularly severe case of the flu. That in itself was disturbing, of course. The last thing they needed was a flu bug spreading through the school, but if there was one case now, there were bound to be others later. He told Nancy Batista, the senior RN on duty, that they should be sure they had enough supplies for a sudden influx of patients. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but knew the hospital couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.
He then moved on to a broken arm suffered during an intramural game of flag football.
It was over an hour before Corey’s preliminary lab results came in. Dr. Hayward was in the middle of a nasty case of road rash on the thigh of a girl who’d fallen from her bike when Nurse Batista rushed over.
“Sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but I need to see you for a moment.”
Dr. Hayward smiled at his patient, and unintentionally lied. “I’ll be right back.”
Once they were outside the exam room, Nurse Batista showed the doctor the lab results. He read them twice, and looked at her in surprise.
“Are we sure?”
“I’ve drawn a new sample, so they can run it again.”
That was also protocol if a positive result for Sage Flu was ever returned.
“Okay,” he said. “But until we learn different, we need to assume this is correct. I want everyone who’s been in contact with him isolated, including everyone on this floor. I’ll inform the administration and the state health department.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
There was fear in her eyes as she ran off, the same fear that was probably in his. Both he and the nurse knew that the Sage Flu in its most virulent form meant one thing.
Death.
Matt Hamilton was in the Bunker cafeteria watching the video Tamara and Bobby had just emailed him. It wasn’t the full WC report, just what they’d already completed over the previous months.
Tamara’s voiceover-for the first time unfiltered so that it would be recognizable-had been done in an even, sure tone. There were no hysterics, just facts of the story. Even then, he couldn’t help but frown. It played more like an over-the-top Hollywood thriller than something that could actually happen. But it was what it was. Besides, if they ever did need to play this video, it would mean the pandemic had started, and chances were people would be more keen on listening and believing.
Jordan was watching alongside him. With Pax gone, the younger man had assumed the role of Matt’s top assistant. It was a job that would have normally fallen to Michael, but he was still watching over Janice, whose illness had turned into pneumonia after spending too much time on the freezing roof of the Bluff.
As Matt jotted down a few notes, he heard someone running through the hall toward the cafeteria.
“Matt!” Rachel’s voice.
Forewarned by her tone, both he and Jordan jumped up and rushed into the hallway.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked.
“Come! Come! I think it might have started.”
With a feeling of dread, the three of them raced to the communications room. Nearly a dozen people were already there, including Billy. The TVs on the table were still tuned to the different networks, but only the volume on the PCN broadcast was turned up.
The image was a night shot of a multistory building. The graphic at the bottom identified it as Hawkins Medical Center, Hawkins University, St. Louis, Missouri. The voice speaking belonged to Catherine Minor, one of the PCN anchors.
“…this time. We don’t have the name of the patient yet, but we’ve been told he’s a student at Hawkins University. The dormitory where he lived, and the emergency services area of the hospital have all been quarantined. Right now we need to go to a break. We’ll have more when we return.”
The image stayed on the screen for a second longer, then cut out and was replaced by a commercial for deodorant.
“What happened?” Matt asked.
“Apparently a student was brought into the hospital with flu symptoms,” Billy told him. “When they ran the Sage Test, it came back positive.”
“Just one case?”
“So far. According to the news idiots, they’ve isolated everyone he’s come in contact with.”
“Any reports from other locations?” If the Project had initiated Implementation Day, there should have been hundreds sick already, not just a single student in St. Louis.
“Nothing yet.”
Matt nodded tensely.
An hour passed, then two. Through it all, the only words spoken were by those using the phone to see if there were outbreaks elsewhere.
As the end of the third hour approached, it was becoming clear that this was an isolated event. How? Sage Flu was not a naturally occurring disease. The student had been exposed to it somewhere. They needed to know where that was. It could provide crucial information.
He glanced over at Billy. “I want you in St. Louis as soon as possible. Jordan, you go with him. Find out how this happened.”
“How did they get in?” the DOP asked.
“Through the roof, sir,” Ross said.
He stared at his aide for a moment. “The roof?”
“Yes, sir.”
The DOP knew it wasn’t worth getting upset over. Even this minor outbreak couldn’t stop anything. It was annoying, though. It meant some people would be more cautious in the weeks to come, potentially skewing the survival rates in the wrong direction. Initially, anyway. At some point they would become exposed to the virus. This just meant that deaths might continue for months longer after the main event than he’d hoped. Statistically, the number would be infinitesimal, but it could still mean dealing with millions of sick people when they should already be moving on to the new reality.
“The factory needs to be destroyed,” he said, forcing himself not to be distracted.
“Yes, sir.”
“Immediately.”
“Consider it done.”
24
I.D. MINUS 54 HOURS
Sanjay knocked on the door of the managers’ office.
“Come in,” a voice from inside said.
Reluctantly, he opened the door and walked in. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should be there at all. The last thing he wanted to do was anything that might upset his bosses. The money he’d already saved from the work they’d given him was more than he’d ever had at one time, and there was no sign this was going to end.
Though there were four desks in the room, the gray-haired senior manager was the only one there. The rumor was that he was German. Sanjay had never asked him, of course.
“Yes?” the man said.
“I am sorry to disturb you.”
“What do you want?”
Sanjay hesitated for just a second, as he once more recalled the words he’d rehearsed. “I’m wondering if you might know where my cousin has gone.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yes. His name is Ayush. He’s a coordinating officer. He was here yesterday, but last night he did not return to the dorm.”
“Ayush? How do you spell that?”
As Sanjay told him, the man typed his cousin’s name into the computer. When he was through, he read the screen, and seemed to soften a bit. “Ah, yes. He’s your cousin, is he?”
“Yes.”
The man smiled. “Nothing to worry about. Ayush and one of the work squads have been assigned to a task outside the city. They should be back in a few days.”