Hallways Part Eight

A crowd of reporters had gathered around the apartment building. Pressing in around her car, microphones and cameras thrusting into her face as she got out of the car, her NIH pass predominately displayed.

"…medical emergency…"

"Can you confirm…"

"Rumours of fatalities…."

"Violations of the building code…"

The cacophony of questions washing over her like a dam bursting, surrounding her, a pack of hungry dogs, demanding her attention. He opened his mouth to ask another question. "Ms Rossi…"

Eva smiled, focusing her attention on the reporter who had known her name. "There is no medical emergency."

"Why have NIH personnel closed this building off?"

She made a calming gesture with her hands. "It's merely a precaution." She raised her hands and her voice over the sudden shouted questions. "I'm sorry, I cant give out any more details until the situation is resolved. Thank you gentlemen." She turned and walked away, imagining them scrambling for phones and print copies.

She smiled bitterly to herself.

If only they were all that easy to mislead.

Natalie adjusted the focus on the microscope, focusing in on the samples. She added a few drops of the antibody onto the slide, making a careful meticulous note on her clip board.

She turned her chair, studying the temperature tests. Nodding to herself in satisfaction.

They had been right. It did respond to temperature.

Now all they needed was a way to stop the damn thing spreading. She turned back to the microscope, massaging the back of her neck.

She'd never seen anything like this before, and it was proving to be a stubborn bastard. She shook her head in frustration, making a mark against the latest antibody cocktail she had tried.

Another dead end.

She needed to find a vaccine quickly.

Before somebody else died.

He needed answers. Quickly. Before somebody else died.

"How are you feeling, Mr Ashton."

"Like shit." Michael Ashton coughed harshly into his hand. "How's my daughter doing?" He'd insisted that they treat him in his living room, so he could hear Patricia if she called.

"We're doing everything we can for her."

The sound of coughing echoed, seeming to spiral around the entire building, dying slowly away.

Connor flinched. He'd grown to hate that sound, but he was dreading the silence even more.

He needed answers.

Connor walked to the door of the apartment, glancing at the air conditioning unit, still and silent. He'd ordered them all switched off, after Natalie had confirmed that it was airborne. No sense in inviting trouble in.

He stepped out into the hallway….and the air conditioning sparked to life. Humming audibly in the silence.

"Powell?"

"Yeah?" Frank's voice was strained.

"I thought I got to switch the air conditioning off."

"I did."

Michael Ashton coughed behind him, trying to attract his attention. "There's two systems in the building." He coughed again, a sick cough this time. "Building owner put a second system in to keep the hallway at a constant temperature."

"Two air conditioning systems?"

"Yeah?"

"Powell, find that secondary system."

"On it."

Miles took a second, a moment to himself to rest. Sitting on the stairs, linking the hallways of the second and third floors. At least he had been able to avoid the Ashtons. Dr Connor had taken over that case as soon as Michael had displayed secondary symptoms.

Not that he was short of patients.

He shifted on the steps.

Trying to ignore the cough he felt rumbling, growing in his chest.