Numbly, Peter stood wearing his hazmat suit in the middle of the debris, blind to the chaos surrounding him. Strewn around lay the remainder of Flight 619, a plane that had inexplicably crashed twenty minutes after its takeoff from Detroit Metro almost four hours ago. All 347 aboard were dead. It was unknown at this point how many residents of the neighborhood the plane had crashed in had also perished.
When the initial Flight 619 passenger had been found, the first call had been to immediately cease all rescue efforts and start quarantining the area in case of contagion. The second call had been straight to the FBI and Homeland Security. The third had been from Broyles. They'd been on a military jet to Detroit thirty minutes later.
Peter had suspected when they'd got the call. He'd known the second he'd seen the first body. Now he was simply looking for confirmation.
Confirmation that was painted on the tailpiece before him.
"Bishop?"
The only indication Peter made that he'd heard Broyles' concern was to nod towards the American flag painted on the tailpiece.
"I don't understand."
"There are only 48 stars."
"Could it be a mistake?"
Peter's response was silence. Eventually, he took off his helmet and quietly stated, "You should inform Metro the temporary ban on all westbound takeoff trajectories is now permanent."
Broyles nodded.
"It's also safe to restart the rescue efforts in the neighborhoods. The tear in the fabric is too high up to affect anyone on the ground, at least over here. The black box will let us know at what altitude the plane lost power. That must be where the crossover occurred. Forward momentum is probably why the bodies in the planes didn't stay merged, like they did with that building in Manhattan. Get Massive Dynamic to monitor the hole in case it grows larger." He left unmentioned that in the other universe, it probably already was larger, and in order to reach a rip at that height, they'd have to encase most of the city of Detroit in amber.
Hundreds of thousands more would die in that quarantine. There'd be no rescue efforts over there.
Finally noticing Walter and Olivia behind Broyles, he saw his father had already taken off his helmet as well. The look of horror and regret on his face made it clear Walter also knew the implications in the other universe of a tear so far up. Peter quickly glanced away, unable to hold his father's gaze any longer. His own guilt and pain was just too much. Walter may be the one ultimately responsible for all these deaths and the universes collapsing, but he's not the ultimate reason.
The reason is his son.