They thought it was snow at first.

“Freaking global warming,” Team Leader Lee muttered to himself as their car crunched along the gravel road. He rolled down his window and stuck a hand out, trying to catch one of the white flakes drifting lazily through the air. Jongdae adjusted the icepack on his forehead as he sat up straighter in his seat, peering out at the unnatural phenomenon.

“It’s practically summer,” he said as he rolled his own window down. The balmy early morning breeze ruffled his hair, heavy with the salty tang of the sea. A large snowflake blew into his lap, and with a gentle cupping motion, he scooped it from the air and it nestled gently against his palm. It didn’t melt.

“This isn’t snow,” he said absently, nearly going cross-eyed as he studied the tiny fluffy mote. He touched it to the tip of his tongue, then immediately sputtered as the taste of smoke and char smeared around his mouth. “Ash.” Jongdae found an ancient handkerchief in the glove box and scrubbed his tongue with it. Belatedly, he hoped it hadn’t been used.

The car ground to a halt.

“My God,” Team Leader Lee breathed, craning his neck to see something high above. “Tell me this isn’t the place.”

Jongdae followed his gaze and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. The road narrowed to a walking path that wound up a steep hillside. From the hilltop, the light seaside breeze carried bits of debris still red and smoldering past them.

You have reached your destination, the car’s GPS announced.

“Oh no.” Jongdae threw open his door and charged up the hill toward the column of smoke at its peak. His heart thundered in his ears as he sprinted up the steep trail, Team Leader Lee puffing along behind him. His own footsteps had a strange echo, but the sight at the top of the hill wiped the thought from his mind.

A mound of blackened timbers and debris crowned the hilltop, a charred ruin. This was the source of the plume of smoke, the last vestiges of an inferno dying out, blowing away on the stiff ocean breeze toward the street below. Lee summited the hill a few moments later, and leaned heavily on Jongdae’s shoulder trying to catch his breath. Heat radiated from the pile, and there were still embers glowing red scattered about. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since the blaze, maybe less. He should’ve gotten there earlier, a little voice in the back of Jongdae’s mind whispered accusingly. If only he’d managed to stop that attacker at the airport…if only he’d been faster enlisting Team Leader Lee’s help. If this had been the work of the Virus… and Kyungsoo… Jongdae shook his head abruptly, stopping the thought in its tracks. He’d go insane chasing ifs. Focus on the now.

He knelt, as close to smoldering remains as he could stand. He pressed one hand to the ground in silent apology to all of the souls who had perished in that building. I should have saved you.

“I didn’t really believe you when you said you had a lead on the Virus,” Lee’s voice was apologetic. “I figured I was just needed a convenient ride out of that mess at the airport.”

“And you came anyway?” Jongdae looked up at his former boss in surprise. Team Leader Lee wouldn’t even leave the precinct to get drinkable coffee when he was on duty. Yet here he was, hours away from Seoul, on the other side of country, on what he’d thought was a fool’s errand.

“Some murderer runs off with my rookie, my best investigator suddenly gets transferred with no explanation, and then Soo’s parents disappear?” Lee scrubbed his stubbly face with his hands. “I haven’t slept full night in weeks. I wasn’t about to let you slip through my fingers again.”

He held out a hand, but Jongdae hesitated. “The last time we spoke--”

Lee cut him off with a wave. “Don’t apologize. I was an insensitive prick. It was a rough time for all of us.”

Jongdae took his proffered hand and let him lift him to his feet. He turned toward the fire’s aftermath. “It still is.”

Lee startled him out of his grim thoughts with a slap on the back. “This isn’t over. This is where our job starts. Ready to be a cop again?”

****

Kyungsoo heard the drumbeat of boots rapidly approaching and hastily wedged himself into the narrow, shadowy gap between the houses. An instant later, a squad of soldiers trotted past, weapons drawn, their black uniforms bare of insignia, half-masks hiding everything but their eyes. Militia. Kyungsoo was certain of it. A group of civilians followed, disheveled, barefoot, and half-dressed, as if they’d been dragged from bed without warning. As the rearguard passed Kyungsoo’s hiding spot, a pair of militiamen peeled off and, without warning, barged into the house. As the sounds of search echoed from within, Kyungoo’s heart squeezed in his chest. Any moment now they would find the family dead in their beds and alert the others. But there was no shout of alarm. Instead the soldiers jogged back to their positions after only a few seconds inside, stepping over the sad, throatless corpse of the old blind man without breaking stride.

“All clear. No hostiles,” one reported. The squad marched on, another pair breaking off to search the next house.

Kyungsoo wiggled free of his hiding spot and followed them without a second thought, slipping into the alleys to hide whenever the group paused. Most of the homes were already empty, but the soldiers dragged a couple of kids from the last house on the block and them into the group. Belatedly, Kyungsoo realized the people being herded at gunpoint weren’t just civilians, they were all children.

As the squad moved on to the next street, Kyungsoo took a risk and ducked into the house that had just been cleared. The parents’ bed was rumpled and unmade, as if they’d been called away suddenly in the middle of the night. There were only child-sized shoes in the entryway, so the adults had left voluntarily. They hadn’t been dragged out like their children. Kyungsoo paused in front of the family portrait - there was a third child in the picture, much younger than the other two. The parents must have taken her with them on their midnight journey, but left the older children to sleep. Strange.

Kyungsoo wanted to dig around further, but the soldiers had been moving fast and with purpose, and he didn’t want those kids to disappear. He left the house and resumed his alley-enabled pursuit as the squad continued their door to door search. When they reached the narrow street that would take them to the main road, the soldiers herded the kids in the opposite direction, deeper into the village. If they kept going in that direction, they’d end up on the wide open beach. Once the squad reached it, there would be no way for Kyungsoo to follow or approach the group without being seen. If he wanted to find out what the militia was doing here, he needed to join that group of kids before they reached the sand. Kyungsoo counted quickly, there weren’t many more houses until the beach- he had to be inside one of them when the soldiers came looking. He took off running.

He used the adjacent street to cut ahead of the group, giving each window he passed a light, practiced push as he ran by. As the brisk tattoo of bootsteps drew closer, he found a skinny basement window that yielded under his push. Hurriedly kicking off his shoes he dropped to the ground and squirmed through the tiny window, thanking the gods that he had narrow shoulders. He fell blindly into the dark room, landing on top of a soft, pillowy lump. A yelp of surprise was drowned out by the thunder of soldiers kicking open the main gate, but Kyungsoo didn’t stop to apologize. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and whipped it over himself, elbowing the bed’s rightful occupant aside. The bedroom door slammed open before he even had a chance to look at his new roommate, and instead Kyungsoo found himself staring into the business end of an automatic rifle.

“You two,” the soldier flicked the rifle sideways. “Outside.”

Kyungsoo rose slowly, hoping his ruse wouldn’t be uncovered. Whether he was quick on the uptake or just too dumbfounded to speak, the kid whose house he’d just invaded stayed silent as the soldiers shoved them both outside. The rocky path dug into Kyungsoo’s feet as they joined the harried group, mindful of the rifles pointed at their backs.

Kyungsoo tugged his collar higher as they jogged, keeping his head down and shoulders hunched, wary of being recognized. Hopefully, it would look like he was just shielding his face from the wind, not trying to escape notice. Face covered as best he could, he moved closer to his new companion.

“Thanks for not ratting me out,” he murmured.

The kid glared at him out of the corner of his eye, but matched his volume. “Are you some kind of criminal?”

“I’m an undercover cop,” Kyungsoo said, keeping the unhelpful truth to himself. “They’re the criminals.” He threw a meaningful look at the militiamen surrounding them. “My name is Kyungsoo. I’m here to help.”

The kid glanced around, absorbing the details of their situation before turning his sharp gaze on Kyungsoo. He eyed him up and down, assessing, before giving Kyungsoo a grudging nod. “Taeyong,” he said simply. “You’d better not be lying.”

****

“Hey,” Team Leader Lee called from several feet away, studying one side of the ruined building. “Do you see any sign of firefighters over there?”

Jongdae looked down at the ground where he stood. There were dozens of bootprints in the sandy soil. He made his way around the ruined building, listening to the faint pops and crackles from deep inside the pile, a sign that the fire was still burning. The heat emanating from the rubble wasn’t overpowering, but it wasn’t comfortable either, like standing with his face to an oven running full blast. The ground around the building was scorched dry, the grass yellow, withered, and crunchy underfoot.

“No one even tried to put this out,” Jongdae spoke his observations aloud. “No sign of water or foam suppressant on the ground, and these timbers are completely dry.” He spotted a weird shape half buried near the edge of the rubble, but couldn’t get close enough to pick it up. He tilted his head, trying to work out what it was. “Maybe they couldn’t get up here in time?”

“I just called the local dispatch,” Team Leader Lee waved his phone for emphasis. “There was definitely an engine on site, but they lost contact before they could report on the status of the fire.”

“Maybe they tried to rescue the people trapped inside,” Jongdae rolled the misshapen lump of plastic away from the rubble with a stick. It was still warm. “A fire set by the Virus would’ve burned hotter and faster than anything they’d ever seen. They wouldn’t have been prepared.”

“Even if the whole unit lost their minds, ignored protocol, and jumped headfirst into hell, where’s their truck?” Team Leader Lee turned in a wide circle, pointing out the empty hilltop, free of tire tracks. “There’s no way a fire engine just disappears.” He studied the ground near the path they had used to climb the hill. “No tire tracks here either,” he reported. “No sign any vehicles ever made it up here.”

The rounded edges of the mystery object resolved themselves into a firefighter’s helmet, blackened by soot, caved in on one side. “They were here, but they weren’t alone.” Jongdae said. Lee stumped over to his side, and Jongdae pointed out his find.“This was a one story building made of wood. There’s nothing heavy enough to bash in a helmet that badly.”

Lee nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So the arsonist must have attacked at least one firefighter.” He frowned. “But that doesn’t fit the Virus’ M.O.”

“Murdering people? That’s exactly what he does,” Jongdae retorted.

“Sure, but he lets fire do his dirty work,” Lee explained. “There’s never been a single report of him engaging anyone in direct hand-to-hand. Think about the cases. He avoids physical conflict so diligently, even the profilers thought he would be ill or disabled.”

Lee made sense, and Jongdae hated it. Blaming the Virus would be so easy—but the puzzle pieces didn’t fit. Despite all the lives taken and damage dealt during his reign of fire, the Virus had been arrested by a tiny rookie cop. From Kyungsoo’s report, despite his significant size advantage, the Virus hadn’t even attempted to resist. In all the time afterward that he’d been in jail, the Virus had been a model prisoner. He’d been in a single fight, and it hadn’t ended well for him. A brawler he was not.

Lee was watching him expectantly, so Jongdae grudgingly responded, “You’re right.”

Once he started, he couldn’t stop noticing other inconsistencies of the scene. The roof of the building was scorched and in pieces, but still recognizable resting atop the pile of rubble. The walls had disintegrated into ash, first, collapsing the whole structure while smothering the worst of the flames. Jongdae swiped a finger across some of the ash that seemed cool enough to touch, and rubbed it between his fingers. It was silky smooth to the touch, and infused with the harsh throat-stinging scent of propane.

“Accelerant,” Jongdae said, showing Lee the ash on his hands. “Whoever burned this building used propane- probably from someone’s back yard. They just poured it around the base of the building and struck a match.”

“You still think Virus did this?”

Jongdae shook his head. The Virus is an outlier. “He doesn’t use propane.”

”We’ve never been able to identify what the Virus uses,” Lee reasoned, playing devil’s advocate. “Dozens of crime scenes and all we know is that it’s organic and untraceable, probably his own recipe. But now he’s on the run.” He shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t have time to mix his usual brew.”

“He’s been at the top of every wanted list in the Pacific Rim for years. Not once has he ever used anything but that homemade accelerant. The burn pattern, the burn temperature, all of it is his signature. No way he’d suddenly change now.” Because he won pyrokinesis in the brain-altering parasite lottery.

Lee’s face clouded as he thought through the implications. “Do we think its a complete coincidence that we follow your lead on the Virus, and find a burned down building at the village center?”

Jongdae wandered to the edge of the hill, where he had a bird’s eye view of the whole village. Houses clung to the rolling hills all the way down to the narrow beach, where a line of fishing boats had been pulled onto the sand. A pair of large military trucks were parked on the beach as well, looking out of place next to their sea-faring brethren. Even stranger— fishing villages woke early, but the streets below him were still and quiet.

“Coincidence?” he echoed. There was a flash of motion in his peripheral, and he threw himself backward on instinct, away from the edge. Something pink hurtled through the space where he’d been with a snarl. Jongdae scrambled to regain his balance as his brain processed what he’d seen. It was an ahjumma, her pink polo shirt smudged with dirt, leaves from the bush where she’d been lurking tangled into her perm. A hungering gleam lit her eyes as she sized Jongdae up, and charged again. Jongdae braced himself to catch her, but someone else bulled into her from the side. A man, scrawny but tall, rolled on top of the woman, trying to pin her down by the shoulders. His left leg was in a cast up to the thigh, hampering his efforts.

Team Leader Lee edged closer, his gun drawn on the struggling pair. “What’s happening here?” he barked. The other man spared a glance upward and panic flashed onto his face when he saw the gun.

“Don’t shoot her!” he begged, right before the woman planted an elbow in his jaw. He dropped to the side, stunned, and the woman launched herself at Jongdae again. Her husband snagged her ankle and yanked backward, sending her face first into the dust. All three men watched her for a breathless moment, waiting for another attack, but she stayed down. Her husband crawled her to her side and rolled her over, crying over the blood streaming from from a cut above above her eye. After a moment’s hesitation, Lee lowered his gun, his hands shaking a little. Jongdae didn’t blame him. Adrenaline was singing in his ears. He’d been jumped by people far scarier than a middle-aged housewife— it came with his job and personality— but he could not shake the feeling that he’d just been inches from death.

He whipped around at a crackle in the bushes behind them, as a pair of men in black uniforms crested the hill, their automatic weapons raised.

“Drop the gun.” The lead soldier walked straight to Team Leader Lee, stopping with the muzzle of his weapon mere inches from the detective’s face. Lee eased his gun onto the ground, and the soldier kicked it across the grass. “Identify yourselves.”

The second soldier trained his weapon on Jongdae, who very slowly raised his hands into the air. Neither of soldiers had any insignia on their uniforms. Any unit patches or name tags that would have identified them had been removed. That was a bad sign.

“We’re detectives, tracking a fugitive from Seoul,” Jongdae told them, opting an edited version of truth. If these were militiamen, as he suspected, flashing the credentials of a quarantine agent wouldn’t be a particularly wise decision. Given the smell of hot gunpowder wafting from the barrel pointed at his face, the militia was not adhering to standard quarantine procedure in this village. Also, Lee was a terrible liar.

Lee cleared his throat and stepped forward, drawing their attention as he carefully fished his police ID from his pocket. The lead soldier inspected the card with a suspicious squint.

“You’re a long way out of your jurisdiction, Detective,”

“I’m tracking a suspect. We got a lead that he was in the area.” Jongdae breathed a bit easier as the Team Leader stuck to their mostly-true story. If the soldiers tried to verify it, all the details would check out. “The rest of our squad went to the local HQ in Guangyang,” Team Leader Lee stretched the truth a little further as the soldiers relaxed. “We’re supposed to meet up with the locals for a full search.”

The lead soldier dipped his gun toward the couple on the ground. The fisherman had huddled around his wife as soon as the soldiers appeared, trying to shielding her from their view. “What’s her condition?”

“She fell,” the fisherman said quickly, his eyes darting anxiously to Jongdae and Team Leader Lee. When they didn’t contradict him, he stammered the rest. “H-helping me climb this hill.”

Unconvinced, the leader soldier turned to Lee. “Did the female attack you?”

Jongdae could see the rusty cogs of falsehood grinding to life inside his team leader’s head as he stared at his own gun on the ground, clearly trying to come up with a plausible reason to have it out that didn’t involve an attack of some kind.

The soldiers exchanged looks, and as if on cue, raised their weapons again. “This village is under quarantine by order of the government. You’re duty bound to inform us if this woman showed symptoms of illness.”

Jongdae dug his toes into the ground, finding his balance, planning his lunge toward the nearest soldier.

“She was calling for help.” Lee dragged out the lie one painful word at a time. “I pulled…my gun…because…”

Jongdae threw himself into the second soldier, ducking low and driving his shoulder into his side. The soldier fired on reflex, but Jongdae’s hit sent the shot awry, and the bullets whizzed harmlessly into the rubble behind them. A pained yelp echoed across the hilltop as Lee engaged the other soldier, but Jongdae didn’t have time to check to make sure his team leader was winning the fight. He braced for a counterattack, expecting the militiaman to follow up the shot with a blow from the of his rifle. But the man never regained his balance, his arms pinwheeling uncontrollably as his legs gave way beneath him. He toppled to the ground with a scream, one arm twisting awkwardly beneath him with audible pop. His head whipped to the side with a meaty crunch, and he was still.

Jongdae stared, dumbfounded. “Holy…”

“I know, right?” A Baekhyun-shaped translucent outline materialized from thin air, one foot planted atop the soldier’s head, twirling a delicate needle-like blade around one finger. “Tendons are so important.”

“Did you have to kick him in the face, too?” Jongdae crouched to check the fallen soldier’s pulse, but hesitated when Baekhyun’s leg blocked his way. He reached out gingerly, half-expecting his hand pass right through the boy’s faint outline. When his fingers made contact with unseen flesh and bone and cloth, the solidity felt bizarre, and he brushed Baekhyun aside quickly to cover his unease.

Baekhyun recovered from the push and flipped his hair back into place irritably. “You’re welcome.”

Satisfied that the soldier was still breathing, Jongdae stood, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You’re supposed to be at the hospital with Sarai!”

“The plan was to get rid of her,” Baekhyun said, at normal volume.

“She got shot!”

“Conveniently for us.”

A shout interrupted them, and Jongdae turned to find Team Leader Lee pinning down the other soldier while the fisherman wrestled the rifle from his hands. The battle was over in seconds, and Lee cuffed the soldiers hand and feet as the fisherman leaned on his new crutch in exhausted victory.

“Were there more of them?” Lee twisted around to check their surroundings, keeping one knee planted in the small of his captive’s back.”I thought I heard someone.”

Jongdae glanced to his side, but there was nothing to see but empty air and a scuffle pattern in the dust. “Nobody here but us.”

The pinned militiaman tried to speak, but his words were muffled from having his face pushed into the dirt.

“You want to repeat that, son?” Lee shifted his weight slightly so the soldier could raise his chin.

The militiaman spat dirt and glared up at them. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” he growled. “That woman needs to be contained.”

“The fisherman limped forward, fumbling to aim the unfamiliar weapon in his hands. “That’s what you people said about my son! You’re not taking her anywhere!”

Jongdae intercepted him and gently pushed the gun barrel toward the ground. “That won’t solve anything.”

“They came to our door.” The fisherman’s voice shook as he spoke. “They told us to bring anyone who was sick. They said they could help.” His face crumpled as he let Jongdae pull the gun from his hands, and he turned to the still-smoking ruins of the community center. “We let them take our boy. We trusted them.”

Jongdae exchanged somber looks with Team Leader Lee. They were right. The Virus wasn’t responsible for the fire.

“You people are monsters,” Jongdae said grimly. “You’re supposed to be curing this disease, not killing innocent people.”

The soldier sneered up at him, grass and dirt marring his features. “The only way to cure a rabid dog is to put it down.”

****

The transition from rocky path to cool silky sand was a relief to Kyungsoo’s bare feet. The soldiers guarding them loosened their circle as they marched across the beach, making their way towards a pair of military cargo trucks parked near the shoreline. More soldiers milled around the trucks, guarding a second group of kids sitting on the ground. Kyungsoo swallowed down the uneasy lump in his throat as they approached the trucks. There were a number of scenarios in which a group of masked gunmen herded barely-clothed children toward unmarked trucks. None of them were scenarios he wanted to live out.

When they reached the trucks, the soldiers ordered them to sit, keeping the two groups separate. Kyungsoo hugged his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. He hadn’t been recognized yet, the fugitive hiding amongst the huddled knot of frightened villagers, but it was just a matter of time. A bespectacled man in a white lab coat and surgical mask climbed out of the back of one of the cargo trucks, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves that a waiting soldier handed to him.

“Is this all of them?” The doctor walked around the new group of children, a frown creasing his forehead as he looked them over. “Where are the younger ones? The census data indicated there were at least a dozen preschool children in this town.”

“Didn’t find any in the cleanup.”

“In the cleanup?!” The doctor looked at the sky for a long moment, hands balled at his sides. He turned stiffly towards the soldier who had spoken. “Corporal, you’re the highest ranked here, yes?” His eyes tightened when the soldier responded with a careless, one-shouldered shrug. “I specifically asked you and your thugs to bring me the children under the age of five. These--” He his hands towards the two groups of children, “are adolescents.”

The corporal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resting one hand on the rifle hanging at his side. “So you don’t need them?”

Kyungsoo wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those words. A little frisson of anxiety rippled through the group and he found himself suddenly crushed on all sides as the children bunched together for security.

The doctor scanned the group with clear disinterest in his eyes, staying silent far too long for Kyungsoo’s liking. “Waste not, I suppose,” he said finally. “Gather samples. Perhaps we’ll get lucky.”

The corporal nodded to the soldiers surrounding Kyungsoo’s group, and they dragged one of the children free of the group. The poor girl was too petrified to fight back as the men carried her to the second truck, her feet dangling above the ground. Another soldier in a surgical mask swabbed and marked a number on her forehead. He dropped the cotton swab into a waiting test tube of clear liquid and handed it to someone inside the truck as the soldiers carried the girl back to the group. On one hand, Kyungsoo was relieved that ‘take samples’ didn’t have some sinister double-meaning. On the other hand, he could think of no scenarios where a group of masked gunmen taking saliva samples from barely-clothed children ended well.

“What are they doing?” Someone nudged him in the side with a bony elbow, and Kyungsoo twisted to find Taeyong sitting back to back with him. “Are they testing for that flu?”

Nobody tests for the flu with cheek swabs. Kyungsoo was about to point this out, but paused. The outbreak of the strange zombie-flu and the arrival of the militia might not be pure coincidence. At first he’d thought the soldiers were Chanyeol’s militia - here to hunt down the freaks- but if that were the case, Kyungsoo would’ve been recognized on first sight. He’d credited the dimness of the early morning for preserving his anonymity this long, but what if they weren’t even looking for him? If they were actually here in response to the outbreak, rounding up and testing all the kids made way more sense. For a brief instant, he was reassured to have found a sensible explanation for all of the recent events.

“Hey, was there a fire?” Taeyong poked him again. “Look!”

Even craning his neck, Kyungsoo couldn’t see what Taeyong saw. He applied a little force to the crush of bodies round him and managed to turn so he was facing the same direction as the other boy. Taeyong surreptitiously pointed back the way they had come, toward the heart of the village. A thick haze hung over the central hilltop, fed by a thinning plume of gray smoke. The fire had been a big one, yet there were no sirens, no red trucks, no sign of any authorities except the black-uniformed soldiers currently holding them captive. Ah, hell. Kyungsoo’s heart sank. Chanyeol.

“My dad was up there for the town meeting,” Taeyong said. Double hell.

“Mine too.” A boy sitting across from them scooted a little closer so they could trade whispers. “They took my little sister because she was sick. Do you think they’re okay?”

Kyungsoo looked around as worried faces began turning his way. There was an excellent chance that every one of these kids was now an orphan, and he was indirectly responsible.

“I’m sure your families are fine.”

****

Jongdae slammed the lid shut with a satisfying metallic thunk and dusted off his hands.

“Did you just put that pile of garbage in my trunk?” Team Leader Lee asked as he approached the car, the fisherman’s wife over one shoulder.

“It’s better than he deserves.” Her husband hobbled behind, leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch, puffing from the trip down the hill. He glared into the back seat, where the militiaman Baekhyun had incapacitated was stretched out, trussed up with seatbelts. “This one should be back there too.”

Jongdae opened the front door so Lee could settle the insensate woman into the seat. When the fisherman didn’t move, Jongdae stepped in front of him, pointedly blocking the helpless soldier from the fisherman’s dark looks. “He’s not a threat to you anymore. But you should restrain your wife, in case she wakes up.”

“She’d never hurt me,” the fisherman protested. “We were fine until we ran into you. She was just frightened.”

Lee finished strapping her in and pulled a set of spare handcuffs from the glove box. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but I’m not taking chances.”

“And call for backup,” Jongdae added. “Lots of it. I’m going to canvas the village. Kyungsoo is here, and I need to find him.”

“Alone? What if you run into more of these nutcases?”

“It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

Lee eyed him contemplatively. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Jongdae pressed his fists together anxiously, then grabbed his team leader’s arm to pull him away from the car, out of earshot. Lee’s brow furrowed as he leaned in. “Let me guess, this so-called quarantine is a government smokescreen.”

Jongdae shook his head. “The bug they’re fighting is real, its deadly, and--” Jongdae took a breath, “Kyungsoo’s a carrier. ”

Lee swore, immediately grasping the implications. “So they recruited you just to track him down? Bastards.”

“You saw what they did to a building full of innocent people. If they find Kyungsoo first, they’ll kill him without a second thought.”

Team Leader caught Jongdae’s arm as he turned away, and pressed his pistol into his hands. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

With a grim nod, Jongdae strapped on the holster and headed back up the path to the hilltop.

The hilltop was still and empty, save for a column of hazy air near the rubble. Jongdae crept closer to the disturbance, keeping his footfalls light. It could have been a shimmer of heat from the dying fire, but it was off to the side and strangely stationary. He waited until he was right next to it before speaking, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

“There’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for a while now.”

The air took on a gold sparkle, gradually coalescing into a vaguely humanish shape. The sparkle faded, slowly filling in with color like a real-life Polaroid until Baekhyun was fully visible. The boy was staring at something in the ruins, so intensely focused, he was barely breathing. Yet, there was nothing more remarkable to see than a pile of burned wood and debris.

Jongdae spotted a long, mostly intact pole near the edge of the pile, and hefted it experimentally with one hand. “Why would a highly trained agent in a covert quarantine operation be assigned to babysit an insubordinate, useless nuisance like you.”

“She needs the fashion advice,” Baekhyun muttered, then flinched as Jongdae jabbed his pole into the rubble.

“You go on every mission where there might be an outlier involved.” Jongdae poked the rubble again, and part of the pile shifted, dust beginning to rise as parts of it started to collapse. “I’ve been reading the reports. Even if it’s just a faint suspicion, you and Sarai join the team.”

Baekhyun’s shoulders tightened, but for once, he said nothing. Jongdae jammed his pole into the ground and rested his chin on top of it.

“My guess is that you’ve got some sort of sixth sense for others of your kind. Other outliers.”

Baekhyun turned to face him, hands on his hips. “So what if I do? You think I’m the witch’s personal bloodhound? She feeds me so I bark and point at the right tree?”

“You slipped your leash, but you’re still following a scent.” Jongdae swiveled to face the rubble and raised his voice to normal volume. “I know you’re in there. Come out.”

The silence of the morning was broken only by the crinkling of a candy wrapper.

“You realize this is a pile of ash,” Baekhyun twirled a lollipop at the ruined building. “Are you expecting the dead to rise?”

Jongdae ignored him. “Come out now, or I’ll bring the pile of ash down on your head.”

A chunk of roof near the edge of the rubble shifted, fragments crumbling to the ground. From the hole it revealed, the Virus, the Plague of Asia, stepped free. The layer of soot and ash couldn’t hide the bright red shock of hair, or the freakish orange flow behind his eyes.

“You.” Jongdae took an involuntary step backwards, his heart racing as his hand drifted toward his gun.

The arsonist’s eyes narrowed, following the motion, and the already-scorched grass around his feet began to blacken and smoke.

“Chill out, my dudes,” Baekhyun tiptoed into the gap between them, his arms spread wide. He pointed his lollipop at Jongdae. “Let’s all cool down and, uh-” he looked over his shoulder at the Virus, “let off some steam.”

“Remove yourself from my line of fire,” Jongdae gritted out, sweat dripping into his eyes from the brutal wave of heat pounding the hilltop.

Instead of complying, Baekhyun placed one hand over his heart and raised the lollipop high. “Lighters never flicker!”

The oppressive heat relented instantly, giving way to the blessedly cool sliver of a breeze. The Virus gaped at Baekhyun as the shorter boy turned to face him and sank reverently to one knee. “We burn wherever the light of truth must shine.”

For crying out loud. Jongdae pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“You’re in my fan club?” The inhuman glow in the Virus’ eyes cooled to a more natural brown as Baekhyun bowed with a flourish.

“Byun Baekhyun, Founding Spark, at your service.”

Of course he is. Jongdae scoffed at the revelation, and the temperature notched upwards again as the Virus turned his attention back to him, and his gun.

“Follow the Phoenix Directive!” Baekhyun muttered through his teeth. He drew a line across his throat with the lollipop and shook his head frantically.

Don’t threaten his life.

Jongdae’s fingers brushed against the of his gun, the mission reports he’d memorized playing out in his mind’s eye. Not a single officer, agent, or soldier outlived their decision to draw on the Virus. The only people who survived a direct confrontation hadn’t used a weapon at all. Jongdae reluctantly pulled the gun from the holster, letting it dangle non-threateningly from his fingertips.

“I’m putting this down,” he said, warily slowly lowering the gun to the ground. As he pried his hand away, releasing his only source of protection, the hilltop began to cool back to a normal temperature.

“What’s the Phoenix Directive?” the Virus asked suspiciously.

“The one rule the gunhuggers never follow,” Baekhyun said, climbing to his feet. He wobbled a little when upright. “Sugar rush.”

Jongdae held up a hand to forestall the inevitable accusation. “We’re not working with the militia. I’m just here for Kyungsoo.“ He straightened slowly from his crouch, holding his empty hands out to the side. “I’m Jongdae. Do you remember me?”

Sudden recognition lit the Virus’ features. “You’re Kyungsoo’s partner.” He tilted his head to the side, studying Jongdae’s face. “Yoondae’s hyung.”

Hearing his brother’s name so unexpectedly, and from him, hit like a boot to the ribs. Jongdae turned his back to catch his breath, kneading his fist into the sudden tightness in his chest.

“Sorry about your brother,” the arsonist said. “He was nice to me.”

Whether the words were sincere condolences or some sort of back-handed confession, Jongdae didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not right now.

“Just help me find Kyungsoo.” He would deal with his feelings, and their source, later.

****

Dawn advanced into full morning as more kids were tested and labeled, the crowd between Kyungsoo and cold-eyed doctor thinning bit by bit. The doctor had his finger outstretched to choose his next subject when another white-coated doctor leaned out of the truck.

“Dr. Han, the results are starting to develop.” She held out a tray of test tubes.

Dr. Han turned and picked out a tube from the far back in the tray, an early sample number marked on the side. He held it up to the sky, the liquid inside swirling bright blue. Even from where he sat, Kyungsoo could see row after row of blue in the tray. Only the most recent samples remained clear, but judging by the glitter of triumph in the doctor’s eyes, Kyungsoo guessed that they wouldn’t stay that way.

“All vivus-positive, excellent,” Han murmured to himself, pulling out a few of the other test tubes to examine the color. He gave the remainder of untested kids a considering look, and Kyungsoo ducked his head to avoid notice. After a moment, the doctor said, “We have enough subjects for now. We’ll continue gathering samples later.” He walked over to the leader of the squad. “Any word from my assistant?”

The corporal shrugged. “She probably got held up at the airport.”

Dr. Han frowned. “Pity. She was bringing my preferred diagnostic tool.” He sighed regretfully, and the hair on Kyungsoo’s neck stood up. “We shall have to continue the old-fashioned way. Begin the trials.”

The pair of soldiers hauled a young boy with the number 001 marked on his forehead and carried him by the armpits to the shoreline. The huddled knot of children watched as the soldiers waded in until the water was hip deep, then forced the boy’s head underwater.

The frantic splashing went on endlessly, but the silence it left behind when it stopped was even worse. The soldiers sloshed back to shore, towing the small sodden body behind them. As they laid the corpse at his feet, Dr. Han pulled his pen from his lapel pocket and drew a line through the first entry.

“Next?”

The beach erupted in screams as children fled in every direction, galvanized by fear. But the soldiers were prepared. Snipers with tranquilizer guns shot down the fastest runners, letting the ones behind trip and tangle amongst the fallen. The other guards chased down older kids with cattle prods, wielding them liberally. The militiamen herded the more timid kids back to the doomed group at gunpoint, occasionally firing a line of bullets into the sand to discourage any additional boldness. The fear of immediate harm overpowered the threat of future death, and their bid for freedom ended with a whimper. As the soldiers rounded up the last few resistors, Kyungsoo used the distraction to switch groups, getting closer to the parked trucks. The moment there were no eyes on him, he went for Han. Kyungsoo bulldozed through his accomplice, sending blue vials flying. He had the doctor’s throat in his hands before the other soldiers even registered what was happening. Kyungsoo slammed the white-coated Nazi against the side of the truck , his fingers digging into the man’s trachea, putting just enough pressure to make him wheeze.

A gun barrel tapped Kyungsoo’s temple, and he could hear the trigger being pulled, springs clicking, hammer dropping into place, so he tightened his grip he wasn’t going out alone

“Stop!” the doctor gurgled the order, flinging his hands out toward the triggerman. The gun barrel backed off, and Kyungsoo relaxed his stranglehold by a micron.

“Let the kids go,” Kyungsoo ordered. The rational part of him ranted something about bargaining power and his appalling lack of it, but adrenaline was singing so loudly his ears that it drowned out the more sane voices in his head. “Every last one of them walks away, or you practice breathing without an Adam’s apple.”

Han gestured hurriedly at the soldiers surrounding them, and they began backing away from the group of kids. Kyungsoo spun Han around so he could put his own back to the truck, using the doctor as a human shield. He spotted Taeyong near the front of the group of kids, wielding a thick branch of driftwood at the militiamen. As the militiamen backed away, Taeyong began hustling his charges down the beach, away from the trucks and towards the relative safety of the village. A few soldiers began drifting after them, and Kyungsoo locked his arm around Han’s neck in a choke hold.

“If I see any of your men following them, I’ll snap your neck.”

“Do as he says,” the doctor croaked. “Let the subjects go.”

The kids were halfway down to the beached ships when something sharp bit into Kyungsoo’s neck. Immediately a cool numbness washed down his left side. Han gasped in a breath of fresh air as Kyungsoo’s grip began to loosen. The numbness was spreading fast, his vision whitening around the edges. Han peeled Kyungsoo’s weakened arm from his neck and turned to face him. He placed a hand on his cheek in a tender caress made Kyungsoo’s skin crawl, his eyes alight with glee. “My dear Kratos, I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He tried to grab onto the truck, the doctor, anything, for support, but his body wouldn’t obey.

The doctor straightened his tie as Kyungsoo sagged to the ground. “This worked out nicely.”