📎A/N. Hello my lovelies. I hope your weekend is going well...

A warning for those of you who publish your work here on Wattpad (or any public forum for that matter)... It has recently come to my attention that there are a number of sites that are stealing stories and posting it on their website, or making a story available for downloading. To my horror, this also includes my work. If you see any of my stories on a site other than Wattpad, I would really appreciate you letting me know. 

I am trying to get them removed, and may have to reconsider whether I continue to post on Wattpad while my stories are being blatantly reposted without my permission. 

If you are a writer, I recommend that you do a quick search to find out if this has occurred to your stories. 

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Take care,

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CDC Headquarters, Atlanta.

Dr. Petra Baghurst reread the report and frowned. None of it made sense. Two separate incidences, in two separate states, with the same necrotizing fasciitis symptoms, yet nothing in the tests found a bacterial presence in the wound or blood stream. Each patient, a victim of a supposed animal attack, died in the most agonizing and horrifying manner within a few short hours.

According to the hospital report, the progress of the infection had spread so fast the doctors made a judgement call on the most critical, and cut out, or amputated the affected areas. However, this made no difference, as whatever was eating the skin, tissue, and muscle continued its pillage and gouged out everything in its wake as it spread. In the end, the surgeons gave up, and pumped the victims with as much morphine and opiates as possible, to at least make their last hours bearable.

It was the unexpected infection of the paramedic that had caught Petra's attention the most. As an ambulance sped away from the farm in Iowa with the least critical of the victims, the paramedic had accidentally stabbed himself with a needle. At the time, he didn't believe it had broken through the skin, mealy the glove.

By the time they reached the hospital, his hand had broken out in an angry rash. By the end of his shift, he was back at the hospital. This time, as a patient. The paramedic's hand had erupted in green colored pustules which gave off a putrid odor. Over the next six hours, whatever bacteria had infected him, had begun to eat away at the flesh. The surgical staff assumed they had caught the disease early, and amputated his arm just above the elbow.

However, it was already too late. Even as they sutured the wound closed, a fresh set of pustules erupted up what was left of his arm and across his shoulder. Within 48 hours of infection, the paramedic was dead, his heart unable to cope with the strain on his body, gave up before the rest of his organs had a chance to.

Petra took a better look at the image supplied of the progression of the last victim. "Why did they discount gas gangrene?"

Gas gangrene was marked by a high fever, discolored pus and tissue, gas bubbles under the skin, and a foul odor. She was surprised nothing in the reports mentioned the possibility. Not waiting for an answer from Lyn, Petra continued reading and stopped short at the laboratory results.

What?

What had shocked the doctors, and now, Petra, was the lab results. The deaths had occurred faster than the PCR tests were turned around, so the medical staff, as per procedure, assumed the diagnosis.

"Are you sure this is correct?" Petra asked, "No bacterial pathogens whatsoever?"

Dr. Lyn Kwong, a key member of Petra's team, flipped through the printouts in her folder. "They ran the tests twice, just to make sure. There were no streptococcal isolates in any of the samples. Which was odd, because they all had biochemical evidence of septicemia."

Petra tapped her fingers on her desk and shook her head. "Yes, but raised total white blood cell counts and C-reactive protein levels could point to multiple diagnoses. What about the new emm89 subtype, did they test for that?"

Lyn bobbed her head. "Yes. But even if it was, the antibiotics would have worked; the new strain is not yet resistant."

Petra indicated for Lyn to hand her the file. She needed to see this for herself. After scanning through the additional reports and tests, she was more confused than ever. Her initial reaction assumed it was chemically induced. However, the tests indicated the absence of this as well. HazMat had cleared the scene, adamant it was clean of all known chemicals that could have created the extensive damage. They concluded that, based on the ramblings of one of the victims, it was an animal attack and kicked it to the CDC to worry about.

When she reached the paramedics report on the first victim to die, she let out a dry laugh. "Really, Bigfoot? Well, that's helpful. Not." Petra flipped through the rest of the report and cocked a brow in surprise. "It doesn't mention what animal attacked them."

"I know, I saw that as well, so I contacted the first responders. As they originally thought a chemical spill, they didn't think to look any further until hours later. There was nothing on the scene that gave them any clues, so they've expanded the search radius."

"It says here that their wounds were already far too degraded to ascertain what animal did the damage. For all we know, it could have been anything from a field mouse to a bear." She paused. "None of this makes sense. For this sort of transfer, the source must have been visibly infected. How did they let an animal, so obviously ill, near them? And the paramedic doesn't add up as well; he would have had to have an open wound to have the contagion transfer that quickly. A minuscule pin prick may have become infected, but according to the file, he was a healthy twenty-seven-year-old male. At that speed, it's unheard of."

Petra leaned back in her chair and sighed. This was all she needed. Only three days before she was due to leave for a well-deserved break, and they dumped her with a new puzzle to solve. Her team was already overworked with mopping up the aftermath of the recent fatal outbreak, after too many people ingested food laced with a derivative of the Ebola virus. She rubbed her forehead. After twenty years, you'd think the job got easier. However, each year brought a fresh set of diseases that not only tested their limits but also pushed the boundaries of their ability to counteract the devastating effects.

"Okay, we'd better get samples from all the victims and see what we are dealing with. If there were no bacterial pathogens found, it must be chemical."

"Which one did you want to start with?" Lyn asked.

"Let's start with the paramedic and the patient that infected him. The fact that it's transferable is a worry in itself."

"On it." Lyn stood and headed towards the door. She paused just before she reached it. "You can't cancel your holidays again. You've not had a break in three years."

Petra smiled. "It's not come to that yet. Besides, I don't think I'll hear the end of it if I don't go this time."

In usual Lyn efficiency, she was back within the hour.

"The paramedic's body will be shipped down overnight," she said as she walked into Petra's office and hovered near the door.

Petra raised an eyebrow. From Lyn's expression, there was bad news along with the good.

"What about patient zero?" Petra glanced at the file. "Carbine Jefferson."

"That's when I bumped into a little hitch."

And there is was. "What exactly do you mean by hitch?"

"The hospital released his body to next of kin."

Petra's shoulders stiffened. "What? No autopsy had been carried out. How could they have screwed up like that?"

Lyn gave a half shrug. "From what I can tell it was an administrative error. When the request came through for urgent release, based on religious circumstances, there was nothing on file to indicate they had to hold the body until one was carried out."

"I don't care how they screwed up." Petra crossed her arms over her chest. "We need to get that body before it's too late. Find out where it went, and get the details to me—yesterday."

"On it."

Petra was in a department head meeting, a few hours later, when her phone buzzed, alerting her of a new message. As usual, the head of Injury Prevention and Control was taking his role a little too seriously, and his half hour rant about the health and safety issues they needed to address, was a little to PC for her liking. So, what if they had chairs in the labs? Let that little weasel stand over a microscope for hours without sitting, and see how he liked it.

She longed for the old days where common sense prevailed, rather than the stupidity of paper pushers who saw issues where there were none. As she wasn't really listening to Gerry, Petra casually flicked through her phone to read the message. Seeing it was from Lyn, she double tapped to open it.

Phoned the Funeral Directors on record who picked up patient zero's body. They delivered him to an address in Nederland, Colorado. Full details below. They don't have the sisters contact details on file but mentioned that there was no way she was a blood relation. Jefferson was Caucasian, while his 'sister' was either Asian or Hispanic. They were a little unsure which. Will need to go back to the hospital to get contact details, as somehow, the funeral directors have nothing for either sister or the place in which the body was delivered.

As she was reading through the message, a small warning bell began to tingle. There was something familiar about the address; she just couldn't put her finger on it. Pretending to listen to her colleague drone on, she quickly opened her laptop, accessed her files, and searched for the address.

Petra groaned inwardly when the results returned. You have got to be kidding me.

The address in Nederland was the same as the one she had on file for Parker Johnson and Daniel Locke.

What the hell have they got to do with this mess?

They were two names that Petra knew well.

It was only through Parker Johnson's unexpected visit that Petra, and her team, were alerted to the fact that the Ebola like virus they were fighting, was deliberately placed into caffeine used by food manufacturers. As soon as they discovered the link, the affected products were removed from supermarket shelves, and a nationwide alert to the public issued. While this reduced the number of deaths that may have otherwise have occurred, Petra was one hundred percent positive they knew more about the targeted outbreak of the virus than they claimed. What's more, there was no doubt in her mind that they could explain the additional gene that, until the outbreak, Petra and her team would have disregarded as junk DNA. However, no matter how much she threatened them, they pleaded ignorance.

Her only hesitation about pushing the subject, and making her suspicions official, was the discovery that she too had the additional gene. Petra jiggled her foot impatiently. She needed to get out of this meeting and onto the first flight to Denver. This time, she wasn't taking no for an answer.

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📎A/N. Well it looks like they weren't as careful as they thought, and Dr Baghurst is back wanting answers. Someone better hide the werewolves before she gets off that plane. ;-)

If you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to vote... even you silent stalker readers... it's real easy, just click the little start.

With any luck the the next chapter will be uploaded late next Sunday PST.

Take care, and be safe,

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