“Doctor Park?” there are two men standing in front of her door, one of them is wearing a full-geared military uniform and holding an AK-74 while the other is dressed in black suits and tie.

“Can I help you?” she eyes them suspiciously. It’s not everyday she gets a visit from strangers pointing assault rifles towards her front yard. That being said, she can’t help but notice a parade of UN’s black humvees parked in front of her house.

“Leo Jung, WHO special task force,” the man in suits is tall, pale, and expressionless when he flashes her his badge. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you’ll come with us…”

“Did my uncle send you?”

“You’ve been summoned. Everything will be explained to you en route, you must come with us rightaway,” although he speaks politely, his tone is stiff and demanding.

“En route where?” she shifts her glance back and forth between him and the soldier beside him.

“The Ark, Doctor. We don’t have much time,” he insists, tilting his head towards a vehicle in the middle, “Professor Choi is already inside.”

“Seunghyun’s coming as well?”

His thin lips form a straight line, “Only the best and the brightest.”

…

Sandara Park flinches as another body throws itself against the windscreen only to slide down the hood and disappear off front of the armored humvee. They barely feel the bump as they drive over it. Good suspension; heavy construction. They can't even hear the screaming above a muffle of noise like voices through water. Nightmares don't need sound, though. Sight is enough to settle in Sandara's nerves as a worse spectacle than any outbreak she's ever seen. These are  civilians, scared and desperate and willing to die for hope. Much as she wants to look away, she can't bring herself to. She is luckier than them – not by design, simply by fate. She needs to remember that. Always.

"You should have come a week ago," Deputy Director Yang Hyunsuk chided, not to Sandara though she knows the man holds her responsible for his former-pupil-turns-colleague's actions by proxy. His steely stare and thin-lipped grimace is directed solely towards Seunghyun who seems to be the only person in the vehicle that remains completely unaffected by the stirring chaos outside the car. Deputy Yang himself has beads of sweat along his brow, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone and black tie pulled loose from its knot to hang limp over the of his waistcoat. The summer months are not kind to well-dressed men in Burberry and Spencer Hart. It is the most disheveled Sandara has ever seen the man. He embodies the whole world in his own state of despair.

Seunghyun couldn't have mirrored his former mentor any less. Even each of his dark strands seems to have fallen into perfect alignment as he sits straight and with the utmost refinement, a proper seam presses into his black jacket and trousers with even his buttons in a state of relaxed fit across his chest. He shrugs in disinterest, eyes watching through the tinted windows as palms slap against the reinforced glass with the occasional smear of snot from a child's face.

"I was busy," he says, deep black eyes reflecting only the instituted darkness from outside as the sun cast them in a shadow of men.

"Too busy to save your own life?" Deputy Yang has already had enough of his antics, anger bringing the red from his cheeks right down through his neck. “Dara,” he half barks, centering her with his stare now as blame passes quickly.

Sandara holds her hands up as much in surrender as in an attempt to pacify, "I got him packed and ready weeks ago. It's not my fault. Not his fault either, to be fair. It's not as though either of us could have foreseen an important info regarding patient zero…”

“Yeah, half a globe away and none of you bothered enough to let me know your whereabout?” Deputy Yang punches the leather seat, the only thing yet to make Seunghyun jolts slightly beside him. A glance is spared out the corner of his eyes towards his mentor's deteriorating calm.

Sandara takes a deep breath, jaw clenched for the moment on a terse and childish argument – they bring out the worst in each other and at times in her – before exhaling through her nose on thoughts far less petty.

“Deputy Yang– no, Uncle, you're about to lock your only niece and your favorite virologist underground in a big metal box for the rest of their lives. You know we need every little piece of information and samples we can possibly get. As a doctor, I don't think there was anything wrong in one last trip. We're still here; there's still plenty of time.”

“As a doctor you know very well you have both risked infection every second you have been among the public,” Deputy Yang’s temporary rise of anger has subsided almost completely, leaving behind little more than resigned disappointment. “As his partner, you decided it would be nice to have a bit more fun before joining us at the Ark. I should have had you both forcibly obtained from Brooklyn the moment your clearance was approved.”

Seunghyun gives his 'I'd like to have seen you try' smirk then focuses his eyes on Sandara, his smile shifting just slightly to something far more appreciative. Deputy Yang was right, it has been stupid in many ways, but it has also been brilliant. One last mystery running through the streets of Nairobi, searching for answers, being free in the open air. Sandara tries not to smile back, forcing a scowl which is far from convincing for either males present. Deputy Yang rolls his eyes then sits back in mild defeat as their vehicle runs over another slight bump on the perfectly paved road.

It gets better after the check points – for them anyway. Miles of buffer territory all patrolled by armed guards means the worst is left at the outer gates where people begged to be given a chance. The soldiers all have guns. Sandara flinches at the splatter of blood that masks the windows as the hollow sound of rounds fired echoes through the humvee. No one speaks a word. The world outside deserves far more than just a minute's silence and they hold their tongues for one reason or another while the wind smears the blood as they drive.

It is hard to think of them as merciful deaths. Euthanasia of the infected has been in practice for months, all mater destroyed and even the ashes are treated as potential bio-hazard. Sandara has seen the bodies of those who fear the hospitals and die on their own and the agony of their features which betray nothing. Seunghyun has deduced the infection in Minji. They never saw her again. People disappear all the time and it is simply understood that it is for the best. There is no cure. Eradicate the infected and the infection goes with them, people consolidate into the image of the virus itself and seen as dangerous, expendable and unwanted. The ones begging for admittance aren't the ones who are sick, though. They have a chance if the government would grant them one. The only thing US had in surplus anymore are the bullets resting in the solders' magazines. US's Ark was full – the best, the brightest, what they believed society would require to regrow once vaccines could be developed and immunities programmed into the human genome. It is death by hand or death by virus for those left outside the specialty bunker. Even the guards who stand posted to let them pass are among those to be left behind. The dead ones are the lucky ones is so often the response. It is still hard to accept even in theory and harder still watching brain mater disperses from blood spray when traveling down the road at 50 kilometers an hour.

"A nanny state indeed," Seunghyun muses, not entirely within the best