CDC FIELD OFFICE

Birmingham, AL

3 September, 2019

855 pm

 Hi daddy!!" The little girl's excitement made her greeting linger in the air like a bell, as she bounced down in front of the computer. Dressed in her favorite princess nightgown, she was beaming with joy at seeing her again.

"Hiya Jazzy." Richard had a lot more he wanted to say, things he had been thinking for the weeks since being thrust into his position. But for the man that vowed to never be silent, the words wouldn't come. Seeing his daughter, her hair shiny from just being bathed, caught those words in his throat.

Week after grueling week, Richard had endured smells that he would never forget. Horrible perfumes of chlorine mingled with those of death, and sickness. Seeing his Jazzy though, clean and ready for bed, washed it away. He could almost smell the hints of lilac and raspberry, her favorite shampoo. Wafting peppermint of her toothpaste, and the mildly scented detergent his wife used on all Jazzy's laundry.

"What wrong daddy," Jasmine asked, her eyes dimming with a look of hurt. "Why you Mr. Sad Face?"

Swallowing hard on the knotted words in his throat, Richard willed himself to smile big. He may have missed both her and her mother terribly, but at that moment, they were there. He didn't want to waste this opportunity to be happy. Because in all honesty, he didn't know when he might have the chance again.

"Whatcha talking about, silly girl? Daddy's Mr. Happy Face, see!" He pushed his already big smile upwards, wrinkling his well weathered cheeks. "Do you know how much I've missed you and your mommy?"

Jasmine twisted her mouth in six year old contemplation, her eyes darting upward. "Lots?"

"Of course lots," he said, smiling at her serious look. Just like her mother, he thought. "How was your birthday party, sweetheart?"

 He regretted the question the instant he asked it, as Jasmine's eyes began to moisten. "It was bad Daddy. I was crying cause you were working. Your boss is stupid, and your job is stupid. You promised. And they didn't let you come to my birthday. I hate them."

Of all the horrors that Pangea had wrought on his mind, they paled in comparison to the tears running down his daughter's face. He searched for the right thing to say, but it was too late, Jasmine had run off, crying.

 It took a moment, but eventually Veronica sat down in front of the monitor, a glass of wine in her hand. She looked tired. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Her blue eyes that had always sparkled we're now hollow and sunken.

"Ronnie, have you not been sleeping again?" His wife was prone to insomnia when something was on her mind. But the way she looked now made him think she'd been up a long time, and he knew his absence was to blame.

 "Six weeks, Richard," She said flatly. "Six weeks ago I had to tell our heartbroken daughter you couldn't come to her birthday. Again. It would have been ok. I explained things for you, and she understood. She said she could wait a week for her daddy. But you never came back. You messaged. Texted us like an afterthought to your day."

"I'm sorry, Ronnie." And in his heart he truly was. "This disease, it's killing everyone it infects, and we are scrambling to figure..."

"I don't care Richard," she interrupted, tilting back her glass of wine. "I have stood by you for twenty years. When you said wait on my career, I did. On starting a family, on everything, I waited."

Richard felt the pain in her words, and knew they were right. "I know, honey."

"No, Richard, you don't. I've played the doting wife our whole marriage. So many nights I felt like I was just someone you kept around so you could feel loved." Lifting her glass of wine, Veronica let the red warmth give her strength. "I have always been whatever you needed me to be, because I knew the lifestyle we had depended on your job. But this? For six weeks we barely hear from you.  Seeing that little girl crying for her daddy, Richard, it's too much."

He sat silent, wishing he could reach through the phone and hug them both.

Veronica's face tensed as the floodgates opened, sending tears running down her face. "Come home, Richard, please." Her voice was shaking now, and the tough as nails exterior she always presented had given way to raw emotion. "This thing you're fighting, it scares me."

He could feel her fear, her loneliness, her pain. Richard longed to be with his girls, more than anything in the world. And if the disease couldn't be stopped soon, the CDC would have to find someone else. His family would come first.

For now, however, he still had a chance to end the outbreak. Desiree Parker had always been the key. And with her finally located, alive, there was a glimmer of hope. She had gotten sick; interviews with her mother and others on scene at the time of Vera Mason's hospital admission confirmed that. But she survived.

All the other circumstances, the murder, the conspiracy theory she had talked about on the tape, meant nothing when held against that fact.

She survived the deadliest flu strain in a century. That meant her body had produced a way to fight it. It also meant they could have a vaccine ready to test in as little as 48 hours.

"Listen, Ronnie," he said, steering his thoughts back to the conversation. "You don't have to worry. Pangea is stuck in Birmingham right now. And that's where we are going to stop it. I'm meeting with the only known survivor tomorrow, and you know what that means."

Veronica let out a long sigh. "No, I don't. You don't. But I know you." Lifting her glass, she tilted back the rest of the her wine. "We need you here, but you'll forget that until this is over."

"Stop." Richard waved his hand in front of the screen. "Okay? Just stop. When I finish the interview tomorrow, I'll come home. I can only stay a day, but I..."

Veronica stared at the screen, faintly nodding her head. "We love you Richard Crenshaw." she said flatly, as she leant forward and ended the call.

*****

Palm Beach County Detention Center

West Palm Beach FL

4 September, 2019

915 am

"Come forward." The burly officer motioned to Dr. Grayson, having him step to the X-ray machine.

Stepping forward slowly, he grabbed a tray from the small stack and began loading it with the contents of his pockets. Keys, change, wallet, lighter, and even a hearty helping of pocket lint made its way in the tray, as he placed it and his briefcase on the belt.

Watching as the contents of the briefcase we're displayed on the monitor, Warren stepped forward again.

*BEEP*

"Step over here, sir." The officer met Dr. Grayson on the other side of the metal detector, holding a small wand. He began scanning Warren from the head down, having him lift clothing each time it indicated metal. Once satisfied he was carrying no contraband,  the large officer directed him to collect his items while he repeated the process on Dr. Crenshaw.

"Where you headed, Doctors?"

With a swipe of his index finger, Warren opened his phone and found the email from Leona Nesbitt, a lawyer representing Desiree Parker.

"We're supposed to be meeting with an inmate and their attorney at 9. Dr. Warren Grayson and Dr. Richard Crenshaw, with the CDC."

Thumbing through papers on a clipboard, the officer spoke into the radio handset attached to his uniform. Within seconds the door separating the small entrance from the cavernous main building buzzed open.

Emerging from beyond, a petite woman with greying hair entered the security lobby . "Morning Jackson. How's Shay and the kids?" Picking up the clipboard from the desk, she scrolled down and scribbled her name. "Glad school's back in?"

 Jackson held out his large hand to take back the signed visitor's log. The walls in the room were sparsely decorated with a lone hook and framed pictures of Donald Trump and various leaders in their chain of command. As the large guard leaned forward in his leather chair, Richard couldn't help but notice the bald spot forming on the top of the his head.

Chuckling to himself, he watched as officer Jackson rehung the clipboard on it's hook. "Ah, you haven't heard?" Jackson cut his eyes towards Richard and Warren, then looked back to Leona. "These two, and their people, went on TV and got the whole southeast thinking that world's coming to an end. Now the Governor said we need to wait a couple weeks to start the school year."

Richard could tell by the look on Warren's face that the thick headed security guard had got under his skin. "Tell you what," Warren said coldly, "I'll call Tallahassee and speak with Governor Davis, get your kids started back by the end of the week." Don't say it Warren. But Richard knew Dr Grayson was just as tired, and snappy, as he was. And that something needle sharp would follow. "That way when Pangea starts burning through students, Dr. Crenshaw and myself will still be in town."

"Gentlemen!" The sudden snapping of the lawyer's patience, and Warren's dumbstruck look that immediately followed, made Richard finally lose it. From deep within a raucous laughter rose to the surface and cut the tension from the air of the room. It felt good to laugh, with everything that has happened over the last 7 weeks. It made him feel, if only for a moment, like the world might not end today.

 After the customary apologies and handshakes, Richard and Warren followed Leona Nesbitt into the jail. Along the heavily waxed floors ran a series of colors laid down with what appeared to be cheap painter's tape; red, yellow, and green. The lawyer had explained to Richard that they were there for processing prisoners as they came in, with each color leading to a specific area.

"We're heading to Administrative Segregation, Ad-Seg." She looked back at him and handed him her file. "Having come in contact with this germ of y'all's, they thought it might be a good idea to isolate her."

Richard just nodded, transfixed on the back of her dress. He wondered, really hard, if she had slept in her car, and her clothes, last night. Wrinkles ran perpendicular to the natural pleats of the skirt, making it look as though it had been rolled up in some forgotten corner and left.

"So I listened to the recording, Miss Nesbitt," Richard said as he followed behind the lawyer. "And I've got to say, if your client was infected, and the DNA confirms it, she is the most important person on Earth right now. Her antibodies could help us develop a vaccine. But this crime they say she committed, it will taint everything."

"They say, Dr. Crenshaw. We made that tape to peak your interest, but it's only a tiny piece of a massive puzzle." Lenore flashed her badge at the pot bellied officer standing outside what Richard surmised was Ad-Seg. "Morning Tracy. Here to see inmate Parker. 27A, unless they moved her."

 "Dispatch, 224, over." The guard spoke into her radio as she looked at Richard, then Warren, mouthing the word 'ID'. Opening his wallet, he pulled out his CDC credentials and handed it over, staring blankly as Warren did the same.

*Go ahead 224.*

"Sir, three to Ad-Seg. Counsel plus two to interview Desiree Parker. You want them in I-2, over?"

*Negative 224, Captain wants them in 4. Other than that, you can send them on down.*

"Roger, dispatch. 224, out." Turning to the group, she handed each of them back their IDs. "Follow the red line to the interview rooms, they're right past Ad-Seg. We'll follow you on camera, so you get confused, just wave." She looked at the group, her face saying she'd made this spiel a thousand times. "You're client is in I-4. Officer Ramsey will let you in once you get there." With that she pressed a button on the desk, allowing the group to open the door.

******

Dr. Crenshaw sat quietly, absorbing the details of the story Desiree Parker  was telling them. This had all started as an experiment, a way for some pharmaceutical company to test a new drug away from the prying eyes of the FDA. The novel influenza strain that had been discovered months prior gave them a unique chance. Miles above the earth, the virus would have never seen a human, and there would be no natural defenses against it. The perfect plan.

If there's one thing Dr. Crenshaw had learned over his years studying these outbreaks, it's that we are fools to think we can stop them for good.

"And you know what breaks my heart?" Desi shook her head faintly, in what Richard recognized as defeat. "Sammy was so happy about that jump. It was going to be the one thing that defined him. But now, with all that's happened, no one will ever know."

"No," Richard said commandingly, "I won't let his accomplishment, or his sacrifice, be forgotten. And I'll make sure, if it's the last thing I do, those responsible for all this will pay."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid that hope died with the man that I'm being accused of killing."  Desi nodded her head towards her lawyer. "Leona will give you the pills Sammy didn't take. Please stop this thing, Dr. Crenshaw."

******

Warren cupped his hand to block the wind, as the thumb of the other spun the knurled steel of his lighter. The tiny flame danced as it sprang to life, then steadied when he touched it to the tip of his Winston. The smoke felt good as he inhaled its tarred wispiness, and he held it in his lungs for a little while longer.

It wouldn't take much longer now; Pangea would go the way of Avian and Swine flu, H1N1 and all the rest of the super strains that popped up from time to time. Just another footnote in the history of man's battle for control. Leona had delivered on her word, retrieving the pills from a safe in her office, and all that was left to do was turn them over to the lab.

It almost seemed too good to be true. 389 people had lost their lives to this deadly virus, but all that stood between that and stopping it were these two white capsules. It would take the lab a week or 2, and more people would unfortunately die. But they would synthesize the pills, run a few trials, and in a month, it would all be over.

Tilting his head, he exhaled the smoke skyward, and closed his eyes against the afternoon sun.

"Warren," Richard's voice said from behind him, startling him from his thoughts. "You just helped solve the deadliest case of influenza in a century. Maybe this would be a good time to work on giving those up."

"Dr. Crenshaw, haven't you learned, I never do what's good for me." Warren smirked mockingly at his partner. But somewhere inside, he'd found a new respect for the man who spent the last two years being a thorn in his side. "Did you hand the pills over to the lab?"

"I did. They classified it priority, gave us a week time frame for synthesis."

 "Good. Go home. I know Veronica and Jasmine are dying to see you. I'll finish the paperwork, and see you Monday." Warren stretched his hand toward Richard, offering a handshake.

Offering a smile that said thank you, Richard shook his boss's hand. "Maybe Ronnie was right about you, Dr. Grayson. Maybe you're not the devil after all."