Hi guys! Here is the next chapter in the story. I know that the chapters are a bit short at this point, but they will lengthen later on. I hope that you like it! Thanks for reading.
On board a chartered jet, Dr. Jacob Hood, special science advisor to the FBI, sat with a case file open on his lap. His chin had long since dropped to his chest and he made no move when a loose leaf of paper floated lazily to the floor, his breathing deep and even. However, he did awaken a short time later when a sudden pressure on his right shoulder reminded him of his traveling companion - guard dog Rachel Young. His head snapped up and he looked enquiringly in her direction, eyebrows bucking in amusement at what he saw. Ever competent, always professional, agent Rachel Young had fallen asleep on his shoulder, face slack and stray hair from her normally tight bun dangling in front of her mouth and fluttering gently as she breathed. He struggled with himself for a moment but managed to reign in his amusement and, being careful not to move her, turned back to the case notes.
Soon, he was once again deep in thought, his brow furrowed in concentration. 19 people he thought, fine one moment and not breathing the next. What, he wondered, could have such an effect? If this had been one or two isolated cases, then likely, a garden-variety explanation would already have been found, anything ranging from anaphylactic shock to pneumonia, hell, even severe asthma would have been a possible candidate and as a matter of fact, he reflected, a long acting bronchodilator called salmeterol had been linked to a higher incidence of asthma related deaths. The simple truth was, there were so many potential causes that he could sit here all afternoon and still not be able to list them all. What raised this out of the mundane was the fact that there were 19 victims, and all of them, according to the file, had dropped within 30 minutes of each other sometime this morning. The victims had been spread out all throughout Bethesda and, while some victims lived or worked near one another, there was no general rule that would suggest one particular source of exposure. Well, that certainly didn't rule out an environmental cause or the possibility of some sort of contagion. The victims may have shared preferences in a food or beverage. Or they could have met at some central hub of the public transit system where the actual exposure might have taken place.
Suffice it to say, Hood didn't feel like he had very much to go on at this stage in the game. Resolutely, he returned to perusing the notes, searching for some connection between the victims. Shortly after, however, his concentration splintered when Rachel let out a soft snort and a few smacking noises. Hood clapped a hand over his mouth, successfully muffling his initial laugh, but was unable to stop his shoulders from shaking in suppressed mirth and therefore, Rachel awakened suddenly, quickly yanking her head off of his shoulder and shifting back so that she sat more squarely in her own seat. Hood cleared his throat amusedly and turned to look at Rachel. "So Rachel," he said conversationally, "did you know you drool when you sleep?" "I do not!" she huffed, and went about fixing her hair. Out of the corner of one eye, Hood saw her surreptitiously checking his shoulder and chuckled softly to himself, eyes sparkling with humor.
He quickly sobered when the small jet touched down at their destination. Hood gathered up the case notes and neatly returned them to their folder, nodding to himself and once again deep in thought. If the victims were to have any hope, Hood would need to find an answer – and soon – the illness could progress without warning. Additionally, the longer that someone stayed on a ventilator, the greater the chance was that an opportunistic infection could take root and the greater the chance that said individual would never come off of the ventilator again. He straightened in his seat, unconsciously squaring his shoulders, well, here we go, he thought.