Four months ago.

"Three hundred people heavily injured. Seventy seven people succumbed to death. Twenty three among those died in the riots itself. Others died from the injuries they sustained. What has humanity come to now? These were normal people. These were your friends, your neighbors, your spouses who turned feral. And none of them were infected. None of them had the virus. These were 'normal' people who did the things they did." The news announcer's voice hissed through the radio. "The carnage that they left behind, streets painted with blood, houses burnt. The sector 21 City Hall, vandalized, the deaths of five government officials at the hands of these rioters who managed to break in through the barricades. The question is: after so many deaths whose hands are the ones drenched with the most blood?" Another hiss of static, a sigh of sadness, exasperation. "Today we have the spokesperson for the Seat of Authority, Eli Hodges himself in the studio with us to express sadness on the behalf of the government. What is the Seat of Authority's opinion on the mayhem in sector 21?" the announcer asked.

Another hiss of a sad sigh. Then a voice spoke. "When I speak, I speak as a human being, and the Seat of Authority is held by nothing but more humans. The events and consequences that unraveled in sector 21 are not just unfortunate, they are devastating for humanity. People have lost their families, their homes in the destruction. As tragic as it is what happened, it is still wrong to blame it all on the public. I feel like a failure as a part of the government for having to have witnessed an event like this. A big share of the blame rests on the government's shoulders. In fact, the First Leader has sent the message that he takes full responsibility for what happened."

"Why? Why does he want to shoulder the blame all by himself?"

"Even I asked that to him myself. And the following is the answer he gave: 'Because this country is my home. The people we lost to the riots aren't just citizens, they are my family. My own people that I lost. My heart is so heavy with sadness that it might just fall out of my chest.'" Another hiss of static.

"Truly saddening," the announcer said.

"Indeed. But this isn't the time to mourn and grieve. It is times like these that remind us how important it is to stand together. And fight together. So to inspire everyone the First Leader has decided something. The following are his words again: 'For all the citizens, all my dear family members of this big family of mine, come join the government to heal the wounds these riots have inflicted on the society in Sector 21. All the poor injured are writhing in their sick beds, tormented by the pain, the citizens and rescue operatives alike. They need your help. Report to Sector 21 as quickly as you can to offer help. This country will be forever grateful to you, my dear doctors, rescuers, fighters. You will be compensated for your efforts. Reach out to offer help and be helped in return. It is not strangers who are asking for your help. It is your own family. And I'm asking this, not as the First Leader of the country, not as the head of the seat of authority. But as just another one of your family members. Please, your family needs your help.'"

Then an automated message spoke: "Note down the following radio-frequency to contact the Sector 21 Rescue and Relief for further details and inquiry..."

Clint noted down the frequency.

"What are you doing?" Marie asked. They were in the living room of their house in Sector 21. It wasn't really their house but a house they were squatting in.

"I'm gonna apply as a doctor to help the Rescue and Relief department," Clint said, as he quickly reached into his back pack and searched around for their portable CB radio.

"Honey, Zack is injured, I won't be able to look after him while also scavenging for supplies. Someone has to stay near him at all times," she said in a low voice, so as not to wake up their son who was asleep in the next room, burning with a fever.

Clint winced at the thought of having to leave his wife and son alone in this situation. But it was too dangerous to take them along with him to an area that had witnessed such intense violence. Who knew what other dangers lurked there in the aftermath? Maybe more rioters, planning on raising another riot. It was risky alright for him going alone. But it would've been downright catastrophic to him if he took his family along and another disaster broke out.

He pulled his wife closer, embracing her. "I'm doing this for us. And I won't be there for long. I'll work until I manage to acquire a government ration card or at least some essentials," he said. "It will be easier to get some if I work as a rescue and relief doctor. Plus the First Leader was saying that whoever helps will be compensated. Try to understand, I don't wanna see you or Zack starving like you are right now."

Marie shivered a little in Clint's arms. The dread of having to look after her sick child while trying to find supplies on her own made her skin erupt with gooseflesh. She sank further into her husband's embrace. "We don't need a government ration card. We need to stay together more than anything else." She shook her head.

Clint squeezed her shoulder. "Try to understand, Marie. A government ration card isn't just a way to access food. It means we can acquire medicines from government infirmaries," he said. "I don't wanna keep wandering around already raided pharmacies, browsing empty deserted shelves, hoping to find a bottle of antibiotics that other scavengers forgot."

Marie's eyes happened on the empty can of sardines that lay in front of them on the floor. She and Clint had shared the meager meal. 'Meal' was actually a glorification. They were just scraps on the verge of going stale.

They also had canned beef in their knapsack. But it was meant for Zack to help him heal his injury faster. It was off limits.

Marie clutched onto Clint's shirt. "Isn't there any other way?" she asked, her voice trembling with desperation. "There has to be!"

Clint stroked her hair, his pale brown eyes were brimming with a sad sense of reassurance and a hopeless optimism. "You know I would take the other way if there was one," he said. "It would take all hell to actually make me abandon you or Zack." His fist closed onto the scrap of paper on which he'd scribbled the radio frequency. "I'm only leaving because I want to come back. Stay strong for me, for Zack," he said in a soft, gentle tone. "Will you?"

Marie gazed up into his eyes. She touched his face, gracing his cheek with her thumb. "I will, Clint," she said. "I will."

###

Present Day.

Zack flinched as the operative screamed again in the garage. Marie put an arm around his shoulder. "It's okay, honey. dad's only trying to help the man."

Zack nodded and looked down at the floor. Marie couldn't help but notice just how much he resembled his father without actually looking like him. His shyness, his gentleness, his eagerness to please--all of it was like a much younger reflection of Clint. It was something that she found endearing and also something that made her nervous.

She remembered the way Clint had reacted when Zack had rushed out to help the operative. Why had he been so flustered? To protect his own son, on top of that? It was strange on its own.

"Mom, are you still angry at me for helping the man?" Zack asked.

Marie looked at him. "I wasn't angry, Zack. I was worried about you getting hurt."

"He was injured, mom. He couldn't have hurt me."

"You never know, Zack. You can't trust anything these days. We are living in a dangerous time. You can't tell what lengths one can go to lookout for oneself."

"That's why we have to lookout for each other, right? Nick always said, 'a plague's all that we needed to understand how much we mean to each other. Nothing matters as long as we're together'."

Marie smiled at her son and stroked his hair. "Nick always had something to say, didn't he?"

"He did," Zack said and then he looked down at the floor again, eyes glazed over with sadness. And again, Marie saw Clint in him. "He was there when you were sick. He was there when Dad was away." Marie felt like she heard a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"Dad went because he wanted to do better for us, honey. He had to go. And I fell sick after he was gone and that was because I was careless. It wasn't his fault."

"I know," Zack said. "I'm just glad that Nick was there. Because I'd been scared, Mom. I'd been scared for you. Nick helped me to be strong." Then he gripped the couch, his fingers dug into the upholstery, his lower lip quivered. His voice was trembling, trying to form words and failing.

Marie pulled him close. "It's okay, honey. Nick is in a better place now. And I'm well. And dad's with us. You don't have to be scared of anything, Zack."

The boy shivered for a moment before he calmed down. "Yeah, nothing matters as long as we're together. And I trust dad," he said. Marie held him close and they stayed like that for a while.

###

"It's done now," Clint said, blowing a sigh before leaning back on his stool. Hugh Jenner sat half-slumped in his chair, sweating and panting as if he'd run a marathon twice. Clint took the canteen and offered it to Hugh. "You've earned this," he said. "But go easy--only a sip for now."

Hugh looked at the canteen for a moment before taking it. He drank only a sip, just like Clint had said. And when he was done he looked like he wanted to drain the whole container but was holding back.

"You're brave, Hugh," Clint said. "I don't think I could've handled it." He looked at the stitches that he had worked on Hugh's side.

Hugh said nothing. He just nodded and raised the canteen as if about to make a toast.

Cathy stood and looked at the two men. She had been in the garage the whole time Clint had been working on Hugh's wound, fetching things for him, helping him to a sip of water when he asked for it. He had become a whole different man when he started patching up the wound. His timidity completely gone, his hands steady and still, his voice confident and reassuring when it had to be. It was hard to believe this was the same man who'd been flustered so badly when his wife yelled at him.

Clint stood up and grabbed Hugh's hazmat suit. "I'll just take this and put it in the bucket of disinfectant."

"Doc, you don't have to," Hugh said. "Plus it's already decontaminated, right?"

"Well, your bloodstains are still on the inside right here." Clint pointed at the red splotch.

"Doc, really you don't have to," Hugh said again.

"Don't worry." Clint smiled. "It's no big deal." He started towards the door that led back into the house. He stopped beside Cathy, the smile still on his face. "You were really helpful. Thanks for everything."

Cathy couldn't help but smile back. "Anytime," she said.

Clint walked back into the house and then Cathy turned back to Hugh and asked him if he needed anything else.

"Actually, yes," Hugh said. "Can you come a little closer?"

Cathy held back a frown but walked a couple of steps forward.

"Hey, I'm not gonna bite," Hugh said. "I just don't want anybody to hear what I wanna tell you."

This time Cathy didn't hold back the frown. "What is it?"

"Well, come close so I can tell you."

Still a bit reluctant, Cathy walked up to the man.

"Okay," Hugh said in a low voice. "Now tell me, was there any kinda announcement on the radio today?"

Cathy nodded.

"What was it about?" He asked.

She told him about the cyclone and the rains.

Jenner listened carefully before asking, "Did they have any expert to testify for this thing?"

Cathy nodded again. "Some geologist named Neville."

Hugh stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and muttering a curse. Then he looked at her again. "Now listen to me carefully. Are you listening?"

Cathy nodded.

"They are bullshitting you all. And Dr. Neville never gave any interview today. Whoever it was you heard was pretending to be Neville," Hugh said.

Cathy frowned. "What do you mean? And how are you so sure?"

"Because, I am Dr. Neville."