Kyle slouched over his desk, papers piled in front of him, his fingers draped on the keyboard. The last two days had been a blur of research, exhaustion, and one meeting after another with the team. He had just emerged from a meeting with the Director, and pressure was mounting.
The Director's tone had been icy and abrupt. "I expect results. No more stalling. We've wasted enough money on this already. Don't let us down now."
Kyle had guessed good enough what that meant—he and his crew were going to be pulled from the job if they didn't deliver some solid results, and in a hurry. But still no definite response. They were still attempting to fit bits of information into place, attempting to solve a puzzle with too little in it. The research was at breaking point, but dissent within the team was at odds. It was becoming impossible to reach any kind of consensus.
He stood up hastily, pushing away the frustration seeping into his bones. Time was not on their side. He needed to think—and he needed to think now.
He entered the research room where the rest of the team was. The comfortable, strained silence descended on the group as he entered. Dr. McAllister, the head of the prion team, was already engaged in a heated argument with Dr. Yuan, the parasitic expert, while Dr. Hastings, the soft-spoken, even-tempered virologist, stood silently by.
"Alright," Kyle began, his voice escalating to override the growing tension, "we don't have time for this. We have only one chance to make this work, and we have to do it as a team. The Director needs results, and we need to take them to him—today."
McAllister threw his hands up in exasperation. "What's the point, Kyle? We've been chasing our tails on this for days. The prion theory explains everything. It's the only plausible explanation. The neurodegeneration, the aggression—it's all consistent with prion diseases."
Dr. Yuan rolled her eyes, chuckling. "You're dreaming, McAllister. An prion disease wouldn't explain the behavioral change or sudden onset of symptoms. We've got something much more complex than just neurodegeneration going on here. This is parasitic, and you know it."
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache. "We've been over this a thousand times, both are good, but neither one is going to account for what's happening. We need to view it from every angle possible."
Dr. Hastings cut through the commotion at last. "I believe we have to put quarreling aside and look at the evidence we do have." There's a trend here that none of you are considering." She leaned over a stack of papers, tapping her finger on a chart. "I believe the virus we're battling is a compilation of several thoroughly documented illnesses. Rabies, measles, and foot-and-mouth disease, each playing different roles in the symptoms we're witnessing."
The room fell silent. They were all looking at Dr. Hastings, speechless at the suggestion she just made.
"Rather a big claim," answered Dr. Yuan, but with less conviction this time. "Do you have proof of that?"
Dr. Hastings glared back at her. "I do. Take the pattern of symptoms—neurological, violent episodes, fever, and rashes. It's similar to what we've seen with some viral and prion diseases. The question is—how are they interacting? And where does Sam fit into this?"
Kyle's head was spinning. Sam had been infected for more than two weeks and hadn't yet exhibited full infection. Actually, she'd seemed increasingly sane and sane every day. "We need to focus on Sam. She's our best source of learning about this."
The Discovery: Infection Time and Resistance
Dr. McAllister leaned forward, tapping a fragment of information on the table. "What we're discovering in the data is disturbing. The viral load, the location of infection—none of it's behaving the way we would have wished it to. The incubation period, for instance, isn't as we had predicted."
Kyle looked at the chart on his desk. "What do you mean?"
"The time of infection was previously thought to be associated with bite site and viral load," McAllister said. "But what we've discovered is that it's highly dependent on the physical health of the person. Immune response is so much more of a variable than we even realized."
Kyle processed that in a flash. "So, the timeline of the infection is. variable? It depends on who it is?"
"Right," McAllister replied. "In a healthy person, the virus takes hold in 7-14 days of contact. In Sam, we've had 16 days and complete infection hasn't taken hold—so her immunity is significant. But that makes a second question. We don't know why she's immune, or how long she will remain so."
Kyle's head was reeling. "What about spreading to others with the infection itself? Can it be other than by bites?"
Dr. Hastings stepped in, her voice even but firm. "It's not bites. Saliva, sweat, mucous membranes—all bodily fluids are potential carriers. Bites are just the most recent and most common modes of transmission. But casual contact—kissing, even fluid from intercourse—are just as deadly."
The team sat in shocked silence once more. The ramifications were enormous. Not only was this infection potentially more infectious than anyone had thought, but now there was the very real risk that everyone was inadvertently infected.
The Director's Pressure Mounts
Kyle could sense the suffocating weight of the moment bearing down on him. The deadline of the Director was looming, and the group still far from airtight in its conclusion. He could sense the frustration welling in his chest, the relentless urgency of time and expectation. The Director's words ringing in his head still: "We need results. Don't waste any more time."
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Kyle didn't even have to look at the screen to recognize who was calling. He answered the call.
"Kyle," the Director's voice on the phone was as cold and professional as ever. "Where is the report? I want answers now."
"I'm getting the information," Kyle said, trying to maintain an even tone. "We're still putting together last-minute pieces. There is new information that could change everything."
" Ignore your 'new information,'" the Director snapped. "I am attuned to timelines. I have already extended the deadline. That is all. You have an hour. Make it happen."
The phone was cut off in the middle of a sentence, and Kyle froze, his heart racing inside his chest. He could sense the Director's threat hanging over him. An hour. He glanced over at the research team, who were staring back at him, their faces unspoken. The room's tension was boiling over.
The Factions' Final Stand
Dr. McAllister stood up, pounding his fist on the table. "Enough of this! We're wasting time debating! We need to consider what really counts. The prion theory is the only one that holds any water."
Dr. Yuan shot back, her voice growing more and more frustrated. "And I've explained it a dozen times, it's not prions. You're not seeing the bigger picture.".
Kyle ended their bickering. "That's it. We don't have time to bicker. We need to put it all together and splice that one strand. Sam is a part of this. We need to figure out why she was so stubborn, and then we can report. We don't have time to fight anymore.".
He felt the weight of the room settle on him as he continued, his voice low but firm. "We're doing this the right way, or we're going to fail. Get it together. Now."