novelraw Chapter 384: Director On Deck
Chapter 384: Director On Deck
The lane Eilas and the others were walking through opened onto a larger space.
If he had to guess, it had once been a loading yard.
Flat poured concrete, now covered in modular flooring. Tall, tubular lights cast a blue-white glow over everything. Folding medical stations had been set up in two rows, each occupied by at least one person in partial armor with a med rig at their side.
A large transparent tank sat against one wall, filled with a pale green solution. A suit hung above it, dripping.
’They still decon by immersion’, Elias thought. ’That seems...wasteful.’
Necessary, the creature corrected. You hate chaos, but you hate anyone else’s version of order even more.
People moved through the space with the brisk exhaustion of those who had been awake too long—soldiers, med techs, logistics runners carrying crates marked with biohazard symbols.
No one was panicking. No one was shouting. It was wartime efficiency, stretched thin but still holding.
And every single person had the same logo on their arm:
CDC – CONTINUITY DIVISION.
"This is bigger than I thought," Elias said, unable to help himself. "For a closed region."
Of course it is. You think small because you lost your systems. They didn’t lose theirs. They adapted their disease to fit the system and then expanded it.
The soldier guiding them stopped beside an empty medical station. "Stand here," he said. "Do not move until cleared."
Sera planted herself where told, hands still loose at her sides, eyes moving everywhere. Zubair stayed just off her shoulder. Lachlan rocked on his heels.
Another medic walked up.
She was human. Tired, but human. Her hair was braided and pinned flat so it fit under a helmet if needed, sleeves rolled to the elbow, gloves already on. Her armor plates were smaller than the soldiers’, built to move in. Her ID badge read:
KEARNS, A. — BIO-SPEC
She glanced at the group, and her eyes—light, sharp, and all too awake—caught on Elias first. Not in recognition. In assessment.
"Which line?" she asked the soldier.
"Non-cleared, non-CDC, multiple irregular markers. Field scans tagged bio-positive."
Her mouth flattened. "Of course they did."
She stepped forward with her med rig. "All right. Welcome to Region T. You’re going to give me blood, you’re going to let me look in your eyes, and you’re going to answer questions. You will not touch the equipment." Her gaze cut to Lachlan. "That includes you."
Lachlan put a hand to his chest. "I’m a delight."
"You’re a contamination risk," she said, entirely without malice. Then, to Elias: "You first."
Elias offered his arm. "Doctor Elias Navarre."
Her brows rose the slightest bit. "Doctor?"
"Medical, virology-adjacent, pre-collapse."
"A pre-collapse doctor who made it here." She sounded genuinely interested. "That’s rare."
"Training and circumstance," Elias replied with a casual shrug. "Nothing more."
Kearns didn’t argue. She snapped a sterile needle into place.
"Fist," she directed, waiting for him to comply.
He did and she slid the needle in. Her hands were practiced—no fumbling, no wasted motion. Blood filled the tube, dark and thick.
The analyzer clipped to her hip wasn’t the same model as the one outside. This one was sleeker, with a better processing core. She slotted the tube in and waited.
The screen lit.
She didn’t keep her face blank quite fast enough.
There it is, the creature purred, entirely too pleased. Recognition. Surprise. The look people get when they realize the map is wrong and they don’t know what way is North.
Elias tilted his head. "Something the matter?"
Kearns didn’t answer immediately. She tapped a sequence into the analyzer, brought up a secondary screen, and ran the same sample again.
The result didn’t change.
She glanced up at him. "You said pre-collapse. Where were you stationed?"
"Country N," he said. "I was doing missions with my team."
"Were you working in a lab at the same time? If so, what lab?"
"Off-book."
That got him a flat look. "Everyone says that."
"Because most of the good work is off-book."
She huffed, almost a laugh. "You might actually be right."
She keyed her shoulder mic. "Lab, this is Kearns at A3 intake. I’ve got a non-CDC altered with atypical hemoglobin sequences that aren’t matching current tables. Sending data now."
Elias’s stomach tightened. "You’re transmitting my blood data?"
"Yes," she replied, but not unkindly. "You walked into a CDC containment zone. We don’t do privacy here."
He ground his teeth. "What’s atypical?"
"You should know," she said. "You’re a doctor."
Before he could retort, she moved to Sera.
Sera held out her arm without being asked, eyes bright, watching the machine like it might do a trick. Kearns slid the needle in, capped, slotted, waited.
This time she didn’t hide her reaction at all.
Her eyes widened.
She didn’t look at Sera again—she looked at the soldier, then at Elias, then back to the analyzer. Her lips moved silently as she read the numbers.
"That can’t be right," she muttered under her breath.
It is, Elias’s creature replied smugly. She is better than you. Better than all of you. That is why you follow her like hungry dogs.
Elias swallowed the urge to argue with a voice only he could hear.
Kearns keyed her mic again, faster this time. "A3 to Command Med. I’ve got two—repeat, two—non-CDC altered with non-degraded viral interaction and no inflammatory markers. I need a senior review."
A crackle came back through her earpiece. Elias couldn’t make out the words, but Kearns nodded, eyes still on the screen.
"Understood," she answered. "They’re contained."
She turned back to them. "You just got more interesting."
Lachlan rolled his eyes. "We’re interesting everywhere we go."
"Oh, I believe it." Kearns wiped the puncture sites with practiced efficiency. "Stand by. Don’t touch anything. Don’t wander. They’ll want to see you."
"’They’?" Elias asked.
Kearns opened her mouth to answer.
She didn’t get the chance.
At the far end of the yard, a metal door slammed open hard enough to rattle the panels. The sound cut through the generator hum and the quiet clinic noises. Every soldier in sight straightened, rifles dipping to a lower ready.
Boots struck the floor in a sharp, even cadence.
A voice called out, clipped and carrying:
"Director on deck."