Chapter 4.

~Christian~

The second container stayed sealed between us.

I wanted to take it straight to headquarters. Elsa wanted it entered into the hospital’s chain of custody before anyone touched it. Neither of us trusted the other to make the call alone.

“Your name is on the label,” I said. “Do you know why?”

“No.” She stared at the smeared writing. “I’ve never been to the checkpoint.”

“Could someone have used your name?” I asked.

“Could someone have used yours?” She returned the question.

I had no answer. I had been promoted without explanation, the General I was supposed to replace had vanished, and a sample from a silent checkpoint carried the name of a researcher who had never seen it. Whatever was happening, it had reached into places that were supposed to be separate.

Decker came over with a fresh evidence form. “Nobody opens that container until it’s documented and the infection-control team clears the handling plan.”

“Agreed,” Elsa said.

I nodded. It was the first time we had agreed on anything without a fight.

The officer who delivered it signed the form. The label was photographed. Decker logged the time and the people present. We followed the hospital’s handling procedure and kept the container sealed. I stood outside the marked line while Elsa checked the record against the first sample.

“The serial numbers don’t match,” she said. “This is not a duplicate of the first container.”

“Can you tell what’s inside?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Not without processing it, and I’m not opening it here until Decker clears the next step.” she replied firmly.

I looked at her. “You’re sure you can do this?”

Her mouth tightened. “I’m sure I can tell you what I can do. I’m not going to promise what the test can’t prove.”

I deserved that. “I’m sorry I treated you like the problem.”

She blinked, surprised. “You thought I’d lost the sample record.”

“I thought someone had. I let suspicion decide who to blame before I knew the facts.” I answered.

“That’s a start.”

It wasn’t forgiveness. I hadn’t earned that. But the edge in her voice eased by a fraction.

A knock sounded at the corridor doors. Elliot stepped in, carrying a radio and a folded dispatch sheet. “The eastern checkpoint just came back online for a few seconds.”

“Did they identify themselves?” I asked.

“No. A voice said the unit was under attack, then the signal died again.”

The room seemed to shrink around us. I looked at the sealed container. “Any report of the second sample?”

“Nothing. Two transports were dispatched from the checkpoint. The ambulance carrying the patient reached the hospital. The second transport never arrived.”

Elsa looked up sharply. “Then the patient may not be the only person exposed.”

“Or the second transport never left,” I said.

“Either way, we need to know whether the second container is connected.” She turned to Decker. “Can we prepare the extraction without opening it until the correct staff are here?”

Decker nodded. “We can prepare the area. No one handles it alone.”

I looked at the officers with me. “No one takes the container out of this hospital without a signed transfer.”

The order sounded like mine, it also sounded like hers.

A nurse hurried down the corridor. “The patient is asking for Sara again. He says the person from the second transport is alive.”

Sara had just come through the ward doors. She stopped. “Did he say where?”

“He said the checkpoint. He said they left someone there.” The nurse answered.

Elliot’s radio hissed. A burst of static, then a faint voice. “...don’t send the convoy...”

I grabbed the handset. “Eastern unit, identify yourself.”

The response came broken and weak. “General... they’re at the gate...”

A bang cracked through the speaker. Then a shout, too distorted to understand then the signal vanished.

I turned toward the exit. “Elliot, get the vehicles ready.”

Elsa stepped in front of me. “You can’t go in blind.”

“I’m not leaving them there.” I said, my protective instincts kicking in.

“And I’m not letting you drag an unverified sample into a convoy and call it a plan.”

“Then come with me and tell me what the evidence says.” I demanded.

Her face changed. “You want me at the checkpoint?”

“I want someone there who can tell a real finding from a rumor. I’ll make sure you have protection and a safe place to work.”

“You can’t promise safety.”

“No,” I said. “I can promise I won’t lie to you about the risk.”

For a second, I thought she would refuse. Then she looked through the glass at the emergency ward, at Sara, at the sealed container bearing her name.

“I’m coming,” she said. “But I make the call on the samples.”

“And I make the call on the route.”

“Then we both get to be angry when the other one is wrong.” her voice softened a little.

I almost chuckled. “That seems likely.”

The radio crackled again. This time the voice did not come from the checkpoint, it came from a channel reserved for headquarters.

“General Loren, stand down. Do not proceed east.”

Elliot looked at me. “Who sent that?”

The message repeated, then ended in a sharp burst of static. No call sign. No confirmation. No explanation.

Behind us, the patient began shouting from the isolation room. Sara ran to him. Elsa turned toward the sound, but her eyes stayed on the sealed container.

The missing transport was still unaccounted for, and the checkpoint had not confirmed whether anyone there was alive. Waiting for another order would not change that.

Someone had sent my new command an order not to reach the missing unit. Someone had sent a sample marked with Elsa’s name from a place she had never been. And someone at the checkpoint had just begged us not to send help.

I picked up my jacket. “We leave in ten minutes.”

Elsa held my gaze. “We leave when Decker finishes the transfer record.”

I looked at the form. She was right. Again.

“Five minutes,” I said. “Then we go east, with the record and the warning. Headquarters can relieve me when we’re back.”

The radio snapped alive before anyone could answer. “General Loren, confirm you will comply.”

I looked at Elsa, then at the sealed container bearing her name. “Negative,” I said. “We’re going east.”