Rodney had only been vaguely aware of what had been happening when Carson picked him up, slung him over his shoulder, and left the dank room. He heard the voices and footsteps of the search parties looking for them as Carson darted through doorways and corridors trying to avoid them, but for what seemed like a long time he was unable to move or even say anything. The dull ache in his mind still persisted in aggravating him, but Rodney could do nothing about it at the moment and simply allowed himself to be carried wherever Carson was taking him.

Slowly coming around from his trance-like state, he tried to look about as Carson carried him through more hallways and finally came to a stop in front of a door that Rodney seemed to recognize. It led to one of the labs that contained a naquada generator. Carson pressed the panel to open the door and quickly stepped through, then pressed the panel to close it behind them. The lab was long empty by now. Rodney figured that the time must have been well into the evening hours at that point, and any of his lab assistants that might have been by earlier would certainly be gathered in the commissary eating dinner or possibly preparing for bed by now.

Carson tried to set him on his feet and held him upright in a firm grip, prodding him to manipulate the generator.

Rodney mumbled incoherently, still trying to get his bearings. Annoyed, Carson shook him. It didn't have the effect he wanted; Rodney became dizzy, doubled over, and emptied his stomach onto the floor, not that much was left in it.

Carson was shoving him harder, willing him to work faster.

He no longer remembered why he should have hesitated to comply and pushed the feeling aside as he managed to pry his fingers underneath the latch that held the activator in place. Rodney switched the rotating disc that controlled the generator's power levels to the off position and then removed it, thereby sabotaging any attempt someone else might make to easily reactivate it. This was the generator that powered the control room and the labs in the northwest sections of the city. Disabling it effectively ruined the ability for anyone in the control room to track them with the life sensors at all.

Carson tugged on his arm, urging him to leave.

Anger and frustration welled up within Rodney as he followed Carson out the door and back into the corridor. He felt helpless to resist the rage that was building inside him from that dark and terrifying part of his mind that tortured him, but he felt thrilled at the same time. Feeling no inhibition and a lack of guilt at his actions was exhilarating, perhaps even pleasant, and the part of his mind that knew that what he'd just done was wrong remained submissively quiet and suppressed.

The rage grew and festered until it swept over him like a tsunami. Without an outlet for it, Rodney thought that it might eventually drive him mad. A glance over in Carson's direction seemed to show that he was suffering a similar affliction, and faint whispers in the back of their minds silently urged them both onward towards the center of the city, towards people that they silently denied to themselves would become their next victims. As they trudged forward, the whispers grew louder and felt oddly familiar to them, even comforting in a small way, despite not knowing where they came from.

They pressed on without incident until they both found themselves outside of the lab where Carson had first begun chasing Rodney. Thought it had only been just over a day, Rodney thought that it felt like it had been a long time since he last stood in that doorway. A voice tinged with a Czech accent managed to filter through the closed door of the lab. He seemed to be speaking to someone over the radio. Listening carefully, neither of them could discern any other voices or movement in the room. Zelenka was alone.

Rodney smiled slightly as he realized that Radek must have been working late again, and he obviously had no idea what was in store for him. Without a word, Carson silently stepped aside and stood by to keep watch outside, managing to catch a glimpse of the scientist inside as Rodney opened the door, stepped through, and shut it behind him.

Dr. Weir was late leaving her office again, listening to the status reports coming in from coordinating the search parties over her radio. She justified overworking herself with the thought that if she left to get some sleep, it could mean that Carson and Rodney would suffer that much longer. Elizabeth was not prepared to take that risk, so she determinedly poured herself another cup of lukewarm coffee from the carafe that Major Lorne had left on her desk for her a couple of hours ago.

Just as she was about to take a sip of her coffee, the lights dimmed for a moment and then suddenly blinked out of existence completely. She set down the mug and strode out of her office into the control room.

"What's going on?" she demanded from Lorne, who sat typing at a console.

"The naquada generator powering this section appears to have been sabotaged," he reported flatly.

"Reroute Teyla and Ronon to assess the damage." Elizabeth touched her radio. "Dr. Zelenka, this is Weir. Please respond."

"Zelenka here," he answered a moment later. "What can I do for you, Dr. Weir?"

"Radek, someone seems to have sabotaged the naquada generator powering this section," she explained. "I want you to join one of the search teams and fix it as quickly as possible."

There was a moment of hesitation before he responded. "Well, depending on who it was that sabotaged the generator, it could take a while to--"

His response was cut off.

"Dr. Zelenka, please say again," Weir asked, growing concerned as the moments passed. "Radek, what's going on? Respond please."

Lorne looked up from his console; confusion and worry were etched on his face, mirroring Elizabeth's own. She moved closer to the console and rested her palm on the edge. "Have Teyla and Ronon's team find Zelenka immediately. Contact me when they find out what's going on. I have to see someone in the infirmary."

She took a deep breath as she approached the isolation room that contained Colonel Sheppard. The two guards at the door nodded respectfully as she stopped and pressed the panel to open the door. They accompanied her through the doorway, but kept a respectable distance as she stepped closer to the cot where John laid.

He was pale and drenched with sweat, but was still awake. She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, and he seemed to accept the offering with little objection to her lack of a practiced bedside manner. It was a struggle for John to sit up in his weakened condition, and Elizabeth couldn't help but place a comforting hand on his shoulder to stop the unnecessary gesture.

"You don't have to get up," she assured him uneasily. "I can only imagine how awful you must feel, if the way you look right now is any indication."

John sighed tiredly and brought his hands up from under the covers to show them to her. "See? Nothing's on my hands yet. The doctors keep telling me that it's all starting to clear up, but I think they're trying too hard to make me feel better. It makes me nervous."

Elizabeth smiled understandingly and decided to cut right to the chase. "So, what is it you wanted to speak with me about so urgently?"

"I heard about what happened to the generator," he said grimly. "I'd be willing to bet that it was Rodney who did the sabotaging, and after what I've been told about the virus, I'm surprised that more people haven't started disappearing already."

"What do you mean?" she said hesitantly, surprised. "I tried to get hold of Dr. Zelenka on the radio just a few minutes ago, and he was cut off as he was speaking. Teyla and Ronon are out trying to find him."

A worried look washed over John's face. "We need to find them right now before they do any more damage. I need to be out there with Teyla and Ronon! I'm the only one in this city who's immune to this thing!"

"All you need to do right now is rest, John." She gave him a stern look that shut him up. "Teyla and Ronon can handle things until you're feeling better. Now, what made you suspect that people were going to start disappearing so quickly?"

"I was told that the amount of time that it takes before an infected person starts experiencing symptoms is directly related to how much they've been exposed to the virus." John managed to push himself up into a sitting position this time, and Dr. Weir didn't move to stop him. "I was hardly exposed to a drop, and look how long it took me to develop any symptoms. I'm sure that by now, Rodney's had a lot more exposure from Carson. By the doctors' estimates, he's probably been experiencing paranoid delusions for some time now. Who knows how many more people they've potentially infected by now?"

Dr. Weir was quite disconcerted at this revelation. "What more can you recommend that I do?"

He had a very clear and concise solution in mind for keeping any more people from being infected. "Barricade everyone not on a search team inside specially designated areas of the city, like the infirmary or the commissary or the control room, staying in large groups that can't be picked off individually. Make sure you do a head count of everyone present and make a note of anybody that's gone missing."

"I can do that," she agreed, nodding in turn.

A tense moment of silence passed between them as John tried to think if there was anything else that could be done, but he was fairly certain he'd covered most bases. "I think that's about it."

Dr. Weir placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't worry, John. I'll take care of it."

He watched her leave, suddenly not so sure that he really wanted to be out there when Carson and Rodney went out looking for more people to infect. But who else would do it, if not him?