Page 26 of Outbreak Protocol

Morrison's expression is dismissive. "Doctors, with all due respect, we cannot base our continental defense strategy on finding one magic bird in a city of five million. Every minute we spend chasing that long shot is a minute the enemy advances."

"It's a valid scientific lead," Erik counters. "It could lead to a viable treatment."

"A treatment is not containment," Morrison states flatly. "You are trying to cure soldiers one by one while the army overruns your position. I am trying to keep the continent from falling. These are fundamentally different objectives." He turns to the wall display showing the quarantine zones.

"The intel from Bremen and Hannover is confirmed. We have spot fires outside the perimeter. This is no longer about Hamburg. Hamburg is now the reactor core. If we cannot control the reaction, our only remaining option is to entomb it."

"Entomb it?" Felix asks, his voice barely a whisper. "There are millions of people—"

"There arebillionsof people outside that zone," Morrison cuts him off, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm.

"I have reports on my desk—from London, from Rome, and even from Moscow—asking what my 'final containment protocols' are.

They are not asking about your parrot. Every leader in the world is doing the brutal arithmetic of command right now.

Your job is to find a medical solution. My job is to have a military one ready for if and when you fail.

And from where I'm standing, the probability of failure is increasing with every new case report. "

Sarah interjects, trying to get the conversation back on track, shaking her head.

"Getting back to the science, we've established that the parrots carry a natural immunity factor in their T-cell response, but without more samples, we can't develop an effective treatment in time to make a difference. "

"We've mobilized search teams," Santos says, clicking to a new display showing a grid map of Hamburg.

"Every available non-medical personnel is being deployed to locate any African Grey Parrots in the metropolitan area.

We've issued alerts through all media channels still functioning—television, radio, internet, print.

Citizens are instructed to report any sightings immediately without attempting capture. "

"The teams are focusing on parks and wooded areas," a German officer adds. "The Stadtpark, Volkspark, and peripheral forest regions are being searched."

"And if we find this bird?" Morrison asks. "What then?"

"If we can isolate the immunity factor," Sarah explains, "we might be able to develop a treatment that could at least reduce the severity of symptoms, possibly lower the mortality rate."

"Might. Could. Possibly." Morrison's tone is skeptical.

"Meanwhile, we have a city in collapse. Essential services are failing.

Hospital staff are dying faster than they can be replaced.

Civil order has deteriorated to the point where we've had to implement martial law with the consent of both the German government and European Parliament. "

"The people need hope," Felix argues. "They need to know we're pursuing every possible solution."

"What they need is containment," Morrison counters. "The rest of Europe needs protection from what's happening here. If this gets out, Europe is done."

The tension in the room is palpable, the divide between medical and military priorities widening into a chasm.

"Colonel Santos," Morrison continues, "brief them on the perimeter status."

Santos taps the display, zooming out to show the greater Hamburg area.

"We've established three concentric containment zones.

The innermost ring encompasses the most heavily infected neighbourhoods, with no civilian movement permitted.

The middle ring allows limited movement for essential workers and medical personnel.

The outer ring serves as a buffer zone with full military control of all entry and exit points. "

The map before us looks like a military occupation plan, which, I suppose, it is. Hamburg has effectively been surrendered to NATO command in a desperate bid to contain the outbreak.

"And if containment fails?" I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Morrison and Santos exchange a glance that makes my stomach clench.

"We have contingency plans for all scenarios," Morrison says carefully.

"That's not an answer," Felix challenges.

Before Morrison can respond, an aide hurries in and whispers something to him. Morrison's expression darkens.

"We'll continue this briefing later," he says abruptly. "Colonel Santos, escort our medical colleagues back to the childcare area. Dr. Brennan, remain here."

As we're led out, Felix touches Sarah's shoulder. "We'll talk later?"

She nods, her eyes communicating something urgent that her words cannot.

In the corridor, Santos walks ahead of us, speaking rapidly into her headset. Felix and I fall slightly behind.

"Something's happened," Felix murmurs. "Did you see their faces?"

I nod. "Whatever it is, they don't want us to know yet."

We pass an open door where two officers are speaking in low voices. Santos continues forward, but Felix and I slow our pace, straining to hear.

"—containment breach in sector seven," one officer is saying. "Three checkpoints compromised."

"Civilian or military casualties?" asks the other.

"Both. The mob overwhelmed the first checkpoint, got hold of weapons, then hit the others."

"Shit. If they make it to the outer perimeter—"

"They won't. Command has authorized maximum force protocols."

Felix's hand finds mine, squeezing tight. We hurry to catch up with Santos, who seems unaware of what we've overheard.

Around another corner, we pass a larger situation room where multiple screens display news feeds and military communications.

On one screen, General Morrison is speaking with several high-ranking officers, their faces grave.

Though the room is soundproofed, the door has been left ajar, and fragments of conversation reach us.

"—beyond conventional containment capabilities—"

"—final options must be considered—"

"—surgical elimination of the infection vector—"

"—collateral civilian casualties unavoidable— "

Santos notices us lingering and accelerates her pace. "This way, doctors."

But we've heard enough to understand what wasn't being said in the briefing room. The military is preparing for the failure of containment. They're discussing options for neutralizing the threat that go beyond quarantine and treatment.

As we approach the childcare area, Santos receives another message through her headset. "Wait here," she instructs us, then steps away to respond.

Felix pulls me into an alcove. "Erik, did you hear what I heard? They're talking about 'surgical elimination' and 'collateral casualties.' What does that mean in military terms?"

My blood runs cold as the pieces click into place. "In a biological outbreak scenario with failed containment? It could mean targeted destruction of infected areas. Possibly aerial bombardment."

"They wouldn't—" Felix's face pales. "There are millions of civilians still in Hamburg."

"From their perspective, those civilians are already dead—either from the virus or as potential carriers who could spread it beyond containment."

"We have to find that parrot," Felix says desperately. "It's our only chance to develop a treatment before they decide to implement whatever 'final option' they're considering."

Santos returns before I can respond. "General Morrison has authorized me to share some additional information," she says, her expression grave.

"The situation has deteriorated more rapidly than anticipated.

Civil order has completely collapsed in several districts.

We've lost contact with multiple medical facilities. "

"What aren't you telling us?" I demand.

She hesitates, then speaks with military directness. "NATO command is discussing worst-case scenario protocols. In the event of catastrophic containment failure, they're evaluating all options to prevent continental spread. "

"Including sacrificing Hamburg?" Felix asks, his voice barely audible.

Santos doesn't answer directly. "Essential personnel—including you two, Dr. Brennan, and key research staff—would be evacuated first. Plans are being prepared."

The implication is clear: they're preparing to write off the city and everyone in it.

"And Emma?" Felix demands. "She's on the evacuation list too?"

"As your legal dependent, yes," Santos confirms. "The child would be evacuated with you."

Felix's shoulders sag with momentary relief, but the horror of the larger picture remains. I think of the families we passed earlier, desperately trying to flee the city, unaware that military strategists are already calculating their lives as acceptable losses.

"How much time do we have?" I ask.

"That depends on containment efficacy and viral spread patterns," Santos replies. "But the decision matrix is being updated hourly. If you'll excuse me, I need to return to command. Please collect Emma and wait for further instructions."

As she walks away, Felix turns to me, his eyes blazing with a determination I've never seen before. "We need to find that bird. Now. Before they decide five million lives are an acceptable sacrifice."

I nod, my mind already calculating probabilities and mapping search strategies. "We'll need Sarah's help. And we'll need to convince Morrison to give us resources."

"And if we can't?"

I take his hand, intertwining our fingers. "Then we do it ourselves. For Emma. For Anna. For everyone in this city who deserves better than being written off as collateral damage."

In the childcare area, Emma sits alone, carefully colouring a picture. When she sees us, her face lights up, and she runs to Felix, wrapping her arms around his waist .

"You came back," she says, and the simple joy in her voice strengthens my resolve.

"Always," Felix promises, lifting her into his arms. "We will always come back for you."

Over Emma's shoulder, his eyes meet mine, communicating everything we can't say aloud. We've become more than colleagues, more than lovers. We've become a family forged in crisis, and somehow, against impossible odds, we will find a way to survive.

As we leave the command centre, I glance back at the military personnel bustling with grim efficiency, preparing for scenarios that include the sacrifice of an entire city.

They see numbers, vectors, acceptable losses.

They don't see Emma's careful drawings or Felix's gentle hands or the million individual lives hanging in the balance.

I've spent my career thinking in statistics and probabilities. But now, with Emma's small hand in mine and Felix's determined presence beside me, I understand what he's been trying to teach me all along. Behind every number is a person. Behind every data point is a life.

And those lives are worth fighting for, even against impossible odds.