Chapter 3: Quarantine Dawn
POV: Adam
Concrete walls rose around Boston like prison bars made of steel and desperation. Three weeks since Outbreak Day, three weeks of Adam pretending his powers were controllable, manageable, something he could hide behind lies and careful breathing.
They weren't.
Detection pulsed constantly now, a thrumming headache that painted the refugee processing center in overlapping heartbeats. Fifty people packed into a space meant for twenty. Three infected hidden among them, their signatures reading wrong—still human enough to fool scanners, too far gone to save without surgery.
His skull felt like someone was driving nails through it every few seconds.
"Next!"
The FEDRA processing station looked like a military medical tent crossed with a prison intake. Soldiers in full hazmat gear waved refugees forward with assault rifles instead of clipboards. Everything smelled like bleach and fear-sweat.
Adam shuffled forward with the others, using the crowd to mask his enhanced hearing. Radio chatter leaked through their equipment: containment protocols in effect, shoot first authorization renewed, blood samples flagged for anomalous readings.
The last part made his stomach clench. His blood had been drawn during intake two days ago, along with everyone else's. But his would read differently. Enhanced metabolism from Stone Breathing. Cellular regeneration from the Ope Ope no Mi. Detection's neural activity creating patterns that shouldn't exist.
"Name?" The soldier behind the desk didn't look up from his tablet.
"Adam Collins." The false name came smoothly. He'd practiced it until it felt real.
"Medical history?"
Here we go. "EMT for Austin Fire Department. Caught in the outbreak. Head trauma during evacuation." The lie had layers—explained his medical knowledge while covering for the gaps. "Memory issues since then. Fragments, but not much concrete."
The soldier's finger hovered over his tablet. "Blood work shows some irregularities. Enhanced metabolic rate, unusual neural activity patterns."
Adam's Detection flared automatically, reading the soldier's elevated interest. Predatory. Curious. Dangerous.
"Yeah, they mentioned that. Doc in Austin said head injuries can mess with brain chemistry for months. Concussion stuff." He touched his temple where a faint scar still marked the Runner's claw from three weeks ago. "Still get migraines when I overdo it."
Truth and lies woven together. The best deceptions always contained real elements.
The soldier made a note, then handed over a plastic wristband marked with sector assignments. "Sector 7, Building C, Room 318. Report for work detail at 0600. Next!"
Adam moved through the processing line, Detection mapping every heartbeat around him. The three infected signatures pulsed like infected wounds in his awareness—Building D, second floor. An elderly man whose breathing rattled wrong. A middle-aged woman whose pulse ran too fast. A teenage boy whose body temperature spiked and dropped irregularly.
Early stage. Maybe eighteen hours since infection. Still possible to save them.
Report them. Let FEDRA handle it. Save the many, condemn the three.
But his medical training rebelled. The Hippocratic Oath felt carved into his bones despite never taking it in this life. First, do no harm. These people weren't monsters yet. They were patients.
"The greater good versus individual lives. Classic triage scenario. Except I have abilities that change the equation."
Detection showed him the FEDRA quarantine protocol through overheard radio chatter. Suspected infections were executed immediately. No treatment, no second chances. A bullet to the head and incineration within the hour.
He found his assigned room and lay on the thin mattress, staring at water-stained concrete while his enhanced senses painted the building around him. The three infected signatures remained steady, unaware of their condition. Would be hours before symptoms manifested visibly.
Which gave him time for something incredibly stupid.
I'm going to try to save them.
Midnight in the QZ felt like holding your breath underwater. Curfew locked down everything except patrol routes and the occasional scream from the outer walls where infected still pressed against the barriers.
Adam slipped through shadows, Detection guiding him past guard positions and camera angles. The Ope Ope no Mi made him spatial aware in ways that complemented enhanced senses—he could feel the exact dimensions of spaces, the relationship between objects, where movement would be detected and where it wouldn't.
Building D's quarantine wing occupied the second floor, accessible through maintenance corridors that Detection showed him were unpatrolled. The infected refugees had been moved here during processing—standard protocol for anyone showing elevated readings during blood work.
The elderly man first. Room 241.
Adam's hand found the door handle, and Detection painted everything beyond it in perfect detail. George Nakamura, seventy-three years old, retired teacher. Infection spreading through his bloodstream like dark threads, concentrating around bite wound on his left shoulder. Early Runner stage—cordyceps infiltrating his nervous system but not yet replacing brain tissue.
Eighteen hours and thirty-seven minutes since infection. Still saveable. Barely.
The blue sphere erupted around him as he entered the room, ROOM ability activating automatically in response to surgical need. Thirty feet of space where reality bent to his will, where he could perform impossible medicine.
The old man stirred. "Who—"
"Doctor. I'm here to help." Adam's voice carried the authority learned from residency, calm competence that made patients trust him even in chaos. "This is going to hurt, but I can save you. Do you consent to emergency surgery?"
Confused nod. Fear, but willingness to trust.
Detection showed him the infection's exact progression—cordyceps threading through blood vessels, sending feelers toward brain tissue, converting healthy cells into fungal growths. But still early enough that surgical removal was possible.
Amputate. The Ope Ope ability flowed through his hands like controlled lightning. He could separate infected tissue from healthy with surgical precision that physics shouldn't allow. The cordyceps-infested shoulder separated cleanly from the man's body, leaving a glowing blue outline where amputation occurred.
No bleeding. No pain. The devil fruit's power didn't recognize conventional limitations.
Counter Shock. Electrical current flowed through Adam's hands into the amputation site, sterilizing remaining infection while promoting healing. The man's body jerked with controlled voltage, but Detection showed the cordyceps being burned out of his system.
Thirty minutes of meticulous surgery. Reattaching the sterilized limb. Using the ROOM's spatial manipulation to ensure perfect alignment. Watching Detection confirm the infection's complete removal.
George Nakamura breathed clear air for the first time since being bitten.
"What did you do to me?" he whispered, staring at his shoulder where healthy skin had replaced infected tissue.
"Experimental treatment. You're cured, but don't tell anyone. FEDRA would want to study the process." Another lie layered with truth. "Rest now. You'll be fine."
Two more patients waited. Two more impossible surgeries.
The middle-aged woman—Maria Santos, forty-six, mother of three—required delicate neural work. Cordyceps had reached her brainstem, requiring precision that would challenge a neurosurgeon with years of training. But the Ope Ope no Mi guided his hands with impossible accuracy, separating infected neurons from healthy tissue one cell at a time.
The teenage boy—Kevin Miller, sixteen, unrelated to Joel despite the name—had been infected through contaminated food. Cordyceps throughout his digestive system, converting his stomach lining into fungal growth. Adam had to reconstruct his entire gastrointestinal tract using spatial manipulation and electrical sterilization.
By dawn, three people lived who should have been dead. Three families would wake up with their loved ones still human.
And Adam collapsed in the alley behind Building D, every drop of stamina drained from his enhanced body. Detection flickered weakly, showing him the empty quarantine rooms that FEDRA would discover in a few hours. Paperwork errors, they'd assume. Bureaucratic confusion in the chaos of QZ establishment.
He'd learned something vital: he could cure cordyceps infection. But the cost was everything.
"Three people. Three surgeries. I can barely stand. What happens when word spreads? When dozens come looking for miracles?"
His hands shook as blue energy flickered around his fingers. The power was real, but it had limits. His limits.
A sound made him look up—Detection showing him FEDRA scientists in a distant building, flagging his blood sample for further investigation. Somewhere in a sterile lab, questions were beginning about the man with impossible biology.
He had maybe days before they came looking for answers he couldn't give.
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