Chapter 5.

~Elsa~

The hospital doors shut behind us, and the order to stand down followed us into the parking lot.

It came through Christian’s radio again, clipped and calm. “General Loren, confirm your location. Do not proceed east.”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the vehicles, then at me. “Before we leave, tell me what you need.”

The question stopped me more effectively than another command would have. “A list of everyone going. A clean transfer record for the sealed container, even if it stays here. And a clear answer about what I’m responsible for once we reach the checkpoint.”

“You’re responsible for observations and any samples Decker authorizes you to handle. You can refuse any task that isn’t safe or within your expertise.” Christian glanced at the radio. “I’m responsible for the route and the team. If the risk changes, I tell you before I make the call.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“It should have been my first answer.”

His voice was quieter than I expected. It didn’t erase the way he had treated me, but it made room for something other than another argument. I nodded once. “Then let’s keep it that way.”

Sara came out of the hospital carrying a small medical bag. Her face was drawn. “I’m going. I brought the first patient in. If the second transport crew is alive, they’ll know me.”

“You’re a nurse,” Christian said. “You’ll be more useful here.”

“And if they’re injured?” Sara’s eyes didn’t leave his. “You don’t have another nurse on that team.”

He started to object, then glanced at the bag. “You stay with Elliot. You don’t enter a contaminated vehicle until the medical lead clears it.”

Sara looked at me. “I can work with that.”

So could I. We were leaving with a driver, Elliot, two soldiers, Sara, and me. Decker had signed the transfer paperwork for the sealed container and kept it in the hospital’s secured holding area. The first result traveled with us as a written report, complete with its limitations. No one was allowed to turn a preliminary marker into a diagnosis just because the road might get dangerous.

I checked my kit twice. Gloves. Labels. Sealable secondary bags. A flashlight. No needles unless a clinician decided they were necessary, and no opening unknown containers without an approved plan. My hands trembled when I saw the emergency lights reflecting off a red-stained cloth in the supplies bin. I set it down and asked Sara to move it out of my sight.

She did, without comment. The small kindness steadied me more than reassurance would have.

Christian waited beside the front passenger door. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not.” I climbed into the back seat beside Sara. “I’m trying to find out why someone put my name on a sample.”

Elliot settled into the remaining back seat while Christian took the front passenger seat beside the designated driver. Once everyone was secured, the driver started the engine.

The gate guards hesitated when they saw the convoy. One checked Christian’s radio, then asked for written authorization. Christian showed him the stand-down order on the display. It was still there, but the sender field was blank.

“Who issued this?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” He looked at the guard. “Log that we’re leaving under my command. Don’t put my team’s names on a report you can’t verify.”

The guard’s hand tightened on the gate lever. “Sir, if headquarters asks—”

“They can ask me.” Christian didn’t raise his voice. “You’re not the one who has to answer for this decision.”

It wasn’t a grand gesture. It was a choice to take responsibility instead of passing the risk down the line. I found myself watching him a moment longer than I meant to but he noticed.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.” I looked away before he could read more into it.

The gate opened and the hospital fell behind us, its windows bright against a sky gone the color of ash. I held the report against my knee and tried to keep my mind on the questions we could answer. Who was on the missing transport? Why did the patient know me? What did the second container have to do with my family?

A burst of static came over the radio. Elliot leaned forward from the back seat. “That’s the checkpoint channel.”

A voice broke through, faint and ragged. “...don’t come through the main road...” Then a sharp scrape echoed through. “They’re waiting by the—” The transmission ended.

Christian leaned toward the driver. “Take the service road. Keep the convoy close, but don't crowd the vehicle ahead.”

I looked out at the empty road. “We don’t know what’s waiting.”

“No,” he said. “But we know the main road isn’t safe.”

The radio crackled once more. This time, beneath the static, came three slow knocks then a voice whispered my surname. “Harper.”

Christian’s eyes met mine in the dim cab. The convoy kept moving east.