One day before the first recorded human case, 8:00 am. Westview, Clarkson City. Gen-Main HW.
The chatter of the citizens from the streets, the honks and the sounds of cars passing by filled the lively sound of the city. Not long in the distance, in his car, Dr. Kael's eyes were ringed in crimson, his lids drooping from a lack of sleep over the course of many days. His automobile buzzed along the two-lane road that connected Clarkson City with its patchwork of adjacent villages.
The sky was just turning from gunmetal gray to a thin pink, deceptively calm despite the chaos underneath it. His phone was hooked to its dashboard mount, broadcasting the local morning news. The anchor's voice was overly bright, attempting to be calm and professional but still conveying a tense tightness.
"The Clarkson Regional Health Authority, in collaboration with local agriculture and environmental agencies, has issued an official recommendation. Citizens are highly recommended to use face masks and shields while in public places. Additionally, please refrain from eating chicken and other locally derived animal items until further inspections are conducted…"
Kael ran his palm over his jaw, feeling the sharpness of stubble, sweat still crusting on his neck as the anchor give a soft cough clearing his throat before continuing his coverage and announcement.
Finally. However, it was too late in many respects. The broadcast went on. "Roads leading to the Westview Creek Sanctuary are temporarily blocked to non-essential traffic pending environmental investigations. Officials remind the public that this is a precautionary step, and there is presently no national cause for concern..."
Kael hissed beneath his breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
"There is no need to be concerned at the national level. Hell, is there even a worldwide blip yet?"
Clarkson's sweeping fields blurred beyond his window, with sunbeams catching lively city streets, and skyscrapers basking in the beautiful day ahead, or so it does.When Kael eventually returned to the lab, the mood was a tense version of business as usual. The passageways hummed with overhead lights, screens blazed with charts and tablets, and lab technicians walked quickly between benches — yet their chats were interspersed with sharp stares and quiet tones.
Bits of talk floated by as he walked by.
"Have you heard the advisory? My child's school is still open; can you believe it? "
"I am telling you; this is merely a localized panic. "It's like having bird flu again."
"But my uncle works at the hospital… he says the ER's overflowing and the isolation ward is jammed packed!"
Kael placed his suitcase firmly on his desk, his shoulders drooped for a breath. His monitor still displayed the last open files he'd left: cultures and comparative protein tests that looked almost meaningless. He cleaned his face with his palm before pulling out his phone. A brief scroll revealed no missed calls from Nividia, exacerbating his dissatisfaction.
He breathed shakily before dialing her phone. It rang twice before connecting.
There was rustling on the other end, and then Dr. Nividia Raos' voice appeared, tense and preoccupied, as if she were balancing the phone between shoulder and ear while scrolling through samples.
There was a rustle on the line, then Nividia let out a weary sigh — the kind that sounded like she'd been up for days "It's worse than we expected. The river's practically turned into a conveyor belt for carcasses. The river is starting to get rancid that even fishes started to float."
Kael gulped and felt his throat dry.
"What exactly does that mean?" "
"Me and the team that was sent by our mayor has been following local news. Farmers downstream continue to find dead rats along the riverbank. What about yesterday? We counted nearly fifty corpses, including rabbits, squirrels, and raccoons. All of them exhibit the same necrotic lesions. Some were partially consumed by something else. "It is snowballing." She hesitated, her voice tightening.
"And we collected fish samples. They rise to the surface, gasp, and then die in large numbers. The bacterial load is so thick in certain areas that the water looks crimson. "Kael, it's like watching an ecosystem suffocate in slow motion."
Kael slapped a palm over his eyes, attempting to control his breathing. The lab surrounding him felt too bright and immaculate, like a sterile bubble teetering atop something immense and rotten as he walked and faced to the window opening it to get some fresh air.
"What are your team's plans? " He managed.
"Trying to organize a localized chemical treatment using targeted biocides. But there's only so much we can do without destroying the entire microbial ecosystem. If we blast the germs too hard, the algae collapses, the oxygen tanks fail, and fish die. "It's a damn catch-22." Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the faint beep of lab apparatus on both ends.
"Kael," Nividia eventually remarked, her voice flat, "it's no longer only about preserving human instances. If we don't stop it, an entire watershed will crash. "When predators come to feed on the carcasses..."
Kael did not respond straight away. His thoughts raced with pictures of birds picking at dead fish and foxes dragging away diseased squirrels, all of which looped back into the cycle.
"Have you informed the Mayor yet? What about all of this?"
"Yeah," Nividia murmured, her voice fraught with fury. "That's why the main road from Westview Creek Sanctuary has been closed off. The mayor is pressing for extra patrols, but everything is still contained locally, so keep it quiet. Typical."
There was a slight rustle, as if she was moving papers or pushing hair away from her face. She added, almost as an afterthought:
"And, uh… one of the team members had a close call last night. Was driving back from a late sample run. A deer — or what was left of one — ran straight into the road. Slammed itself right into her front bumper. Forced her car off into a ditch."
Kael's stomach twisted.
"Was she hurt?"
"No, though the car's hood and headlights a mess. But… she swears the damn thing didn't even try to avoid her. Just barreled in, like it wanted to hit something. By the time she checks the deer out, it was gone. Limping, trailing blood, but upright."
Kael let that sink in, a shiver running up his spine. Animals were intended to avoid danger, not plunge headfirst into it. Nividia exhaled shakily at the other end.
"So, sure. It's not only pathogens anymore, Kael. It's altering behavior. Patterns. Perhaps even instincts. And we're only witnessing the beginning of the rippling effect."
Kael closed his eyes, battling the growing sickness. "Alright. Just keep safe, Nividia. Tell your crew to work in pairs if they have to be out there.
Hours passed, Kael sat alone at a corner table in the lab's cafeteria, his untouched tray of reheated stew cooling before him. Around him, clusters of researchers and techs spoke in subdued voices, some forcing small laughs, others staring at their phones with tight jaws.
Above the cash register, a TV mounted on the wall droned with the national afternoon broadcast. The screen flashed between footage of crowded hospital corridors and anxious-looking anchors.
A cook scrolled across the bottom:
"REGIONAL HOSPITALS OVERWHELMED: MYSTERIOUS OUTBREAK FLOODS ERs."
Kael stared in stunned silence as a video showed nurses bringing patients on gurneys through crowded halls played. The IV stands were twisted, and the heart monitors beeped madly. A nurse in scrubs with a fogged face cover talked to the camera, her eyes bloodshot from weariness.
"We are trying our best, but we are out of beds and staff. We've even summoned back nurses on leave, but it's not enough. The symptoms seem unusual. Most patients complain of headaches and nausea, but we see these pinpoint maroon spots/ or weblike patterns on the sclera. Then the fevers increase. They collapse. Some bleed. We can't keep up."
The stream returned to the anchor, who tried to maintain a controlled demeanor but kept glancing at his notes.
"Health officials urge citizens to remain calm and stay tuned for more updates as investigations continue into the source of this mysterious outbreak…"
Kael's palm held the plastic fork till it bent. A steady, icy conviction sank in his chest—the illnesses were no longer dispersed. They were blooming everywhere. The TV faded to commercials, with bright colors and jingles promoting vitamins, fried chicken, and family automobiles. A horrible normality that made his stomach turn.
The cafeteria appeared to explode as the TV moved to a cheery commercial break. Conversations that had been subdued and careful all day became shrill and urgent, like a wave of whispers crashing across the tables. At the opposite table, two lab assistants leaned in close, their voices tight.
"Did you see the youngster they rolled in? God has eyes. It looked like a shotgun pellet explosion within them—"
"My sister is a medtech at St. Henry General Hospital… a few miles away from Taikwon, She texted me, saying they've shut off an entire floor. "She believes it's bioterrorism or something."
Even the cooks had abandoned their posts at the kitchen window, their aprons still covered with flour and grease. A middle-aged lady nervously twisted the dish cloth in her hands talking to another cook beside her.
"This is exactly what my cousin told me when he was at the airport this morning… routing to Japan. The news played in the aircraft and the one beside him has similar signs in his eyes. It only aired when the flight just half an hour landing to its destination… he literally yelped in panic!"
Someone at the salad bar shushed them abruptly. Stop it. You're going to make things worse. They said, "Remain calm."
"Easy for you to say—your relative doesn't live on a farm, or even a tourist!" the cook said in annoyed tone.
Kael sat there, his heart racing in a horrible pace. All around him, the voices blended into a low, terrified chorus, supposition and rumor tying together and tugging tighter and tighter. He pulled his chair back suddenly, the legs scrapping violently across the tiles. He went out without saying anything, leaving his tray untouched, the knot of worry trailing him down the hall like static on his lab coat. "This cant be good, its going international soon without proper precautions... I have to inform the mayor."
Kael ducked into a quiet side hall, putting distance between himself and the cafeteria's rising clamor. He pulled out his phone and dialed the mayor's direct line — a number he'd been given reluctantly after their last tense meeting, not even asking lower authorities and bypassing it like the last time.
The screen flashed up.
"MAYOR WOODS DIRECT"
He placed it to his ear, pulse pounding. The line rang. And rang. And rang. Come on, Mr. Woods... get up. You wanted to keep this under wraps. You wanted something local. Well, it's about to become global..."
Still nothing. Just an unending mechanical ring, followed by a nice, computerized message that sounded ridiculously calm. "You've reached the office of Mayor Woods". Please leave a message after the tone." Followed by a sharp beep.
Kael let out a short, impatient breath before dropping his hand to his side. He looked through the lab's front doors and out across the parking lot. Without another thinking, he turned on his heel and dashed to his office. He grabbed his luggage, scrawled a barely visible letter on a scrap of paper for protocol purposes, and pushed out the main doors.
The doctor's automobile rumbled uncomfortably as he entered the uptown neighborhood. The sun stood bright in the afternoon leaving the streets glimmering from the cars roofs and windows. Then he saw it: a line of brake lights extending down the avenue, a river of furious red. Cars sat stationary in all lanes, horns blasting intermittently as irritated drivers reached out their windows to see what was causing the backup.
Kael pulled harder on the brakes, with tired eyes as he looked out from his car window. Is there a traffic jam? What time is it now? He shifted in his seat, attempting to peek beyond the SUVs hemmed in on each side. A bus ahead belched black smoke, making the air heavy and unpleasant