Chapter 2.

~Christian~

The lab smelled of disinfectant and overheated equipment. I hated both. The first reminded me how little control we had over infection. The second meant someone was pushing a machine harder than it was meant to run.

The ambulance carrying the patient had been moved away from the emergency entrance and secured. Security had found no one inside, but the driver insisted something had struck the vehicle before it reached the hospital.

No one could explain what.

I had ordered the area cleared while the hospital investigated. Whatever had happened, I wasn't going to let another person walk into it blindly.

“General,” Decker said, stopping me before I reached the marked line. “You can wait outside.”

“I can wait here.” I replied.

“You can wait outside.” He insisted.

Behind him, Elsa Harper was back at the bench. Her face was pale, but her hands moved with care as she checked the sample label against the paperwork. The nurse who had carried it in watched her closely.

I had seen her vomit in the corridor. I had also seen her stand up, refuse to be dismissed, and come back to the sample. The contradiction didn’t make me trust her. It made me unsure what I was looking at.

“Tell me what you need from me,” I said.

“Nothing,” Decker replied.

“Then I’ll need the transfer records and a copy of the test report as soon as it exists.” I demanded.

“You’ll get the report through the hospital’s chain of command.” He replied.

“That’s not fast enough.”

Elsa looked up. “A rushed answer isn’t necessarily a useful one.”

I turned toward her. “And a delayed answer could cost lives.”

“Then stop making it harder to do the work.” She shot back at me in an irritated tone.

The lab fell quiet. Decker started to speak, but I raised a hand. “You think I’m interfering?”

“I think you walked in and told people to lock down a sample before the person running the test had even opened the paperwork.” She kept her voice level. “You want control. I need a clean process.”

“I want to know whether the men at that checkpoint were exposed to something contagious.” I explained my reasoning calmly, despite my pulse flaring.

“So do I. That’s why I’m here.” She replied and returned to the paperwork but then reported that one sheet was missing from the transfer packet.

The nurse checked the carrier, then the clipboard. Decker asked where it had gone. No one knew.

My suspicion snapped into place. “The missing page is the chain-of-custody record?”

The nurse frowned. “I handed it over with the sample.”

“Who touched the carrier after that?” I questioned her immediately.

“Enough,” Decker said. “You can’t interrogate my staff.”

“I’m not accusing anyone. I’m trying to establish where the record went.”

Elsa set down her pen. “You’re doing a good job making everyone afraid to answer you.”

“And you’re doing a good job acting as if the sample is yours.”

Her eyes flashed. “It’s evidence and a patient specimen. It belongs in a documented process, not in your hands.”

I knew how that sounded. I also knew that a missing record, a silent checkpoint and a patient collapsing after exposure were not separate problems just because the hospital preferred separate folders.

“General,” Elliot called from the doorway. He held up a phone. “Headquarters.”

I stepped aside to answer. The call was short and useless. The eastern checkpoint still wasn’t responding. The senior officer who should have been coordinating the response was missing. Then the headquarters liaison informed me that my appointment to command the unit had been made effective immediately.

“Where is the General I’m replacing?” I asked.

There was a pause before a response came later. “You have your orders.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I hadn't even finished speaking when he ended the call. I scoffed.

When I turned back, Elsa had found the missing page. It was stuck beneath the carrier’s rim, damp at one corner but legible. She didn’t wave it at me or make a point of it. She checked the patient identifier against the label, then passed the page to Decker.

The sample had been handled correctly. My assumption had been wrong.

I should have said so. Instead, I said, “You need to tell me immediately if anything changes.”

Her expression closed. “I’ll report the result through the proper channel.”

“I’m the proper channel now.”

“Then you should understand why the records matter.”

Decker intervened before I could answer. “We have enough. General, outside.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped into the corridor. Through the glass, I watched Elsa return to the bench. She flinched when a nurse carried another tray past the door, then steadied herself and continued. I could not decide whether that made her brave or dangerous to rely on.

Elliot waited beside me. “You’re going to have to work with her.”

“I’m aware.” And that fact made me uncomfortable.

“She was right about the sample record.” He spoke again.

My jaw clenched. “I know.”

Elliot shrugged, “Could try saying that to her.”

“I’ll try it when the checkpoint answers.”

The radio on my shoulder crackled and a clipped message came through, then dissolved into static.

“Eastern unit, report status.” I commanded but no response came. I tried again and it was still nothing.

Behind the glass, Elsa turned toward the sound. Our eyes met and neither of us looked away first.

A nurse hurried into the lab with a new update from the emergency ward. The patient had begun asking for someone called Sara. Then he said the same phrase again and again: “They followed us from the road.”

As soon as the nurse reported the patient's statement, Elsa stopped writing.

“What does that mean?” I asked through the open door.

“It means I need to know what he saw before he got here,” she said. “Not what you think he saw.”

I took one step toward her. “And I need to know whether whatever followed him can spread.”

For the first time, the fear on her face was not about blood.

“Then stop treating me like the threat,” she said. “And help me find out.”