Chapter: Incident Echoes
Kyle hadn't slept.
He'd tried. Four hours ago, after pulling off the blood-streaked gloves and slamming the decontamination chamber shut behind him, he'd collapsed into the cot in the auxiliary command post.
But the screams kept replaying.And worse — the way the infected had spoken his name.
Or more precisely, how they'd spoken Edward's.
Now he stood inside the temporary field HQ set up beneath the city's emergency operations bunker, lit by surgical whites and buzzing fluorescents. Outside, the thud of helicopters passed like thunder. Inside, the Minister of Health was visibly sweating through his tailored jacket.
"This is spiraling," the Minister barked, gesturing to the digital map behind Kyle. It displayed three districts now flagged in deep red. "You told me this strain was bloodborne. Now it's airborne?"
"I told you the data was evolving," Kyle replied, trying — and failing — to keep the edge out of his voice. "The pathogen isn't acting like a virus anymore. It's mimicking one — at first — but once inside the host, it… rewrites things. We're not just looking at infection. We're looking at reorganization."
Next to them, Director Abramson of the local CDC branch folded her arms, face pale but steady. "The latest field autopsies show neuromuscular changes in the infected. The cerebellum and spinal ganglia light up like they're processing non-standard motor patterns. It's coordinated. Purposeful. Like they're being guided."
Kyle stepped forward. "That's why I requested this meeting. Because we're missing something critical."
He tapped his tablet. A still image appeared.
Grainy. Surveillance footage. A frame from the alleyway ambush the night before.
Three infected. One hazmat-suited responder.
But the moment Kyle froze the feed was the moment all three creatures turned, in eerie unison, toward the off-camera source of the voice calling out: Edward.
"They reacted to his name," Kyle said. "All of them. Like a command. Not just recognition — a pull."
The Minister frowned. "You're suggesting what? That he's infected?"
"I don't know." Kyle swallowed. "But we've seen five separate encounters where infected stopped moving when Edward was near. Some looked directly at him. One even spoke his name. That isn't residual memory. That's connection."
Director Abramson nodded slowly. "It's not unreasonable to assume a nonstandard vector. Possibly a hybrid immune-adaptive response. Something biological… and something else."
The Minister was shaking his head. "This isn't a science fiction movie."
"No," Kyle said, flat. "It's a mass-casualty biological event with behavior we can't explain. If we keep treating it like a textbook outbreak, we're going to get outmaneuvered by something that doesn't think like a virus."
A long silence passed.
Then, finally, the Minister looked to Abramson. "Do we have a location on him?"
She nodded. "We've been passively pinging his phone. He's still in Sector Three, uninfected. Quiet building, no evac. We can deploy a retrieval team with armored escort."
Kyle exhaled slowly. "Good. He needs to be brought here."
The Minister arched a brow. "And what if he resists?"
"He won't," Kyle said — though he wasn't entirely sure.
"He's seen it firsthand. He's been inside it. And he's survived."
Later That Night
Edward's apartment buzzed with a low knock. Not loud. But deliberate.
He froze at the kitchen sink, where he'd been rinsing out his hands, watching water bead on skin that didn't seem to soak anymore. It rolled.
The knock came again. Then a voice, calm, professional.
"Edward? This is Lieutenant Hall with the National Guard. We have a request for transport. Dr. Kyle asked to speak with you directly. Medical urgency."
Behind Edward's ribs, the Shadow Man stirred — not alarmed, but aware.
"Go," the voice said. "The pieces are aligning."
"What pieces?"
"You'll see them. When you stand among the others."
Edward swallowed. He turned off the faucet.
Outside, through the peephole, he saw two guards in gray armor. Their weapons weren't raised. Yet.