No signal. No signal. No signal. No signal.
Then—a single bar flickered into existence, fragile as hope.
"Stop!"
The brakes screamed. I was already dialing before the dust settled around us.
"Jordan?" Kelsey's voice was fuzzy with sleep, confused. "Do you have any idea what time—"
"Kelsey." My voice came out raw, stripped bare. "I need you to listen. I'm dealing with a smallpox outbreak at the Orc village."
Dead silence. Then: "Jordan, that's impossible. Smallpox was eradicated decades—"
"I know what the textbooks say." My fingers tightened around the phone. "But I also know what I'm seeing. Kelsey, please—have there been any reports? Anything unusual in Franklin or the surrounding counties?"
Rustling on the other end. The click of keys. "Hold on, I'm pulling up the Notifiable Diseases Surveillance system."
Every second felt like an hour. Ruka's hand found mine, his thumb tracing circles against my palm—an anchor in the chaos.
"There's nothing, Jordan." Kelsey's voice had shifted, professional now, focused. "Some seasonal flu, a few cases of hand-foot-and-mouth at a daycare. But no fever clusters, no unusual rash presentations. Whatever you're dealing with, it's completely isolated."
The words should have been reassuring. Instead, they felt like a death sentence. Isolated meant contained—but it also meant we were utterly, terrifyingly alone.
"I need antivirals." I forced steel into my voice. "Tecovirimat, brincidofovir—everything you can get your hands on. I've got at least forty confirmed cases with lesions, and more developing every hour."
"Christ." A sharp exhale. "Okay. Okay, let me think. Those drugs are in the Strategic National Stockpile. I'll have to make some calls, cut through red tape. Where are you? I'll need exact coordinates for the delivery—"
"I’ll text you the directions." My heart hammered against my ribs. "Just please, Kelsey. These people are dying."
"I'll move heaven and earth to get you what you need." Her voice softened. "But Jordan, you need to understand—the moment I start making these calls, this goes official. CDC protocols kick in. Quarantine procedures. The whole nine yards."
"I know." I closed my eyes against the weight of it. "Just get me the drugs."
"Twenty-four hours. I promise. Stay safe."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at the phone like it might offer answers it didn't have.
My hands trembled as I scrolled through my contacts again. The CDC was coming—that was inevitable now. But I needed someone who could stand between them and the village, someone who understood that these weren't just case numbers on a spreadsheet.
Sarah answered on the second ring, alert despite the early hour. "Jordan? What's wrong?"
"I need you." The words spilled out in a rush. "There’s a smallpox outbreak at the Orc village. CDC's going to descend like the wrath of God within hours, and I need someone who can make sure this doesn't turn into a complete catastrophe."
A pause, weighted with understanding. "Smallpox. Jordan, that's—"
"Impossible, I know. Everyone keeps telling me that." I pressed my free hand against my forehead. "But I've got at least forty confirmed cases and counting. Sarah, didn't you go to Harvard with someone at the CDC? One of their attorneys?"
"Yeah, Smith Thompson, first year, same section." Her voice had taken on that razor-sharp edge I'd always admired. "You're worried about more than just the medical response."
"You know how they treated the Orcs at Franklin Memorial." The memory burned. "These people have rights. When the CDC shows up with their protocols and their quarantine orders, I need to know someone's fighting for them. Can you do that?"
"Send me everything—patient numbers, timeline, symptoms. I'll make damn sure this is handled right."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself too," Sarah said, and beneath the professional tone, I heard genuine worry.
When the call ended, Ruka's voice cut through the silence. "What happens now?"