Page 48 of Outbreak Protocol
"Dr. Lindqvist, Dr. Müller," she says with a curt nod. "I apologize for intruding on your day of mourning, but General Morrison has called an emergency briefing. Your presence is requested immediately."
Felix's arm goes protectively around Emma's shoulders. "We've just come from a funeral. Surely this can wait a few hours."
Santos's expression softens slightly as she looks at Emma. "I'm very sorry for your loss, young lady." Then to Felix: "I wouldn't be here if it could wait. The situation has escalated significantly."
"I can't leave Emma alone," Felix insists.
"Bring her," Santos says. "We've set up a secure area for children of essential personnel."
Felix and I exchange a glance. The fact that they've established childcare facilities at military headquarters suggests they're planning for a long-term operation.
"Let me pack her a bag," Felix says.
Twenty minutes later, we're in a military vehicle heading toward the harbour, where NATO has commandeered the cruise terminal as their command centre. Through the tinted windows, I watch the city pass by—a ghost town dotted with military checkpoints. Occasionally we see civilians hurrying with suitcases or backpacks, desperate attempts at evacuation before the quarantine becomes absolute.
"Are those people trying to leave?" Emma asks, pointing at a family loading bags into a station wagon.
"Yes," Santos answers before either Felix or I can respond. "But they won't get far. All routes out of the metropolitan area are now controlled. No one enters or leaves without military clearance and full decontamination protocols."
"So we're trapped?" Emma's voice rises slightly.
Felix shoots Santos a reproachful look. "Not trapped, Emma. Protected. The soldiers are here to keep the virus from spreading to other cities."
Emma doesn't look convinced, and I don't blame her. The concrete barriers, razor wire, and armed personnel at each intersection don't project safety—they project containment.
At the terminal, Santos escorts us through layers of security. Military personnel in various uniforms hustle through the converted spaces, many wearing insignia I don't recognize—NATO special forces, biological threat response teams, communications units from a dozen different countries.
"The childcare area is here," Santos says, leading us to what was once a passenger lounge. It's been repurposed with toys, books, and small cots. Only three other children are present, supervised by two caregivers in military uniforms. "Emma will be safe here while we brief you."
Felix kneels to eye level with Emma. "We won't be long. These nice people will look after you, and then we'll go home and have pizza for dinner, okay?"
Emma hugs him tightly. "Promise you'll come back?"
The question hits like a physical blow. Of course she would ask that—everyone else in her life has disappeared.
"We will always come back to you," I say firmly, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. "Always."
She nods solemnly and allows the caregiver to lead her toward a table where the other children are drawing.
Santos leads us deeper into the complex, to a conference room where General Morrison stands before a digital map display. Dr. Sarah Brennan sits at the table, her face drawn with exhaustion, along with several military officers I don't recognize.
"Gentlemen, thank you for joining us," Morrison says without preamble. "Dr. Brennan has completed her analysis of the latest viral samples. The news isn't good."
Sarah looks up at us, her normally vibrant presence diminished by fatigue. "The R-naught has increased to 10.2. We're seeing shorter incubation periods and even higher viral loads in recently infected patients. The virus is adapting faster than anything I've ever encountered."
"Translation for my non-scientific colleagues," Morrison interjects. "This thing is spreading faster and killing more efficiently with each generation at an unprecedented rate. Nothing has killed like it before in recorded human history."
"Current infection count?" I ask, already dreading the answer.
An officer taps his tablet, and figures appear on the wall display. "Confirmed cases in the Hamburg metropolitan area now exceed two million. Estimated actual infections are likely double that number, given limited testing capacity."
The numbers stagger me. Nearly one in two Hamburg residents infected in a matter of weeks. With a 71% mortality rate, we're looking at the death of a city.
"The African Grey connection?" Felix asks. "Any progress there?"
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."