CNV-6

Brynn hears the yells as soon as they jump out from their cover behind the car. The girl makes the first noise, a "Hey!" that is probably loud enough to attract all of the undead in a five mile radius. She ignores the noise, ignores the curses she hears Benjamin utter, and complies with his request to run. Despite the aches growing in her muscles, she pushes herself hard to make it to the door in seconds; relief floods her veins as she pushes on the wooden frame and it easily opens up. She practically falls in, Benjamin less than a second behind her and making quick work to attempt to lock it behind them.

She hadn't seen if the humans had made any effort to follow them, but the little voice inside her head was screaming that she wasn't safe. Brynn found herself tense, almost unconsciously wrapping a hand around Benjamin's wrist; he doesn't acknowledge the contact, but instead puts a soft hand on the small of her back and pushes slightly to get her moving.

"C'mon, Brynn," he whispers, stepping towards the nearby stairs. It's dark inside but, in the seconds her eyes have had to adjust themselves, she can see shapes and the general layout. Small bits of light peak out from the corners and edges of the closed blinds. She steps towards the stairs, hesitant, and it earns a sig. "I don't trust them. I'd rather be safe and lay low until it's clear. Plus, the undead definitely saw us. They can't open locks but they can find their own ways around that."

"They could be fine -- maybe they just want somewhere safe?" She poses the question despite the uneasiness in her own bones. Something about blindly following Benjamin doesn't sit well with her, although he's done nothing to warrant it. Perhaps travelling through the city wasn't the smartest, but she hadn't seen the rest of the area and wasn't accustomed to the world as it was.

"Maybe they do, but I'm not risking our lives for a maybe." Again, he pushes on her back, his hand strong but gentle. This time, she finds herself taking the first few stairs, wary as they go. She doesn't let go of his wrist as they walk, but he doesn't complain about it. "We'll get to a higher floor, hopefully find a window we can monitor from, then I'll figure out what the best plan is."

He ends up leading her as they walk, always peaking his head around doorways with his free hand at the gun on his waist. There is an uncomfortable sort of stillness in the air -- Brynn knows that most people fled, but the building used to likely house hundreds of workers at a given time just as most in the area had. Hundreds of people -- something about the number has her swallowing hard: the hundred were likely gone or dead, or somewhere in between. Along with that hundred were thousands, perhaps climbing towards the million mark. As they moved on, that's what she continued to think about - Hundreds, thousands, millions. And whatever left was what she had to try to help.

They make it to the fifth floor when they hear a bang from somewhere beneath them.

Benjamin pulls his wrist from her hold and both hands find the pistol, now held as a first line of defense in front of them. He pushes Brynn flat to the wall behind him and covers most of his body with his as he scans and listens: a few silent moments pass before another bang! sounds, this time appearing even closer. Benjamin whips his head, eyes narrowing in on a hallway that appears to stretch for twenty feet; Along it are probably six doors at each side, leading to offices long ago abandoned.

"Here," he whispers, taking her hand and pulling her into one halfway down the hall. For the moment, his gun is lowered, but he picks it back up as soon as they are inside the office room and have the door shut behind them. It is a mess inside - a desk is flanked by a mixture of boxes and junk, perhaps belonging to someone who had their plans to pack and flee cut short. Regardless, he walks into the darkest corner adjacent from the door and motions for Brynn to sit. If someone were to walk in, they would have their view blocked by the boxes and a file cabinet, and hopefully wouldn't have the patience to search the nooks and crannies of every room. He does his own quick pace through but, when apparently finding nothing of concern, he takes a seat next to her. Huddled in the corner, she finds herself suddenly aware of their closeness.

"How long will we stay here?" Her voice barely teases a whisper, but she figures he is close enough to hear. Next to her, she can feel his shrug.

"Maybe until the night. If you're tired, you can sleep and I'll keep watch. Hopefully if we don't hear anything for a while, we can start moving again."

"How long do you think it'll take to get us to Sibley?"

Brynn thinks of Sibley and Will and finds herself frowning. She misses her boss, her coworkers -- God knows most of them are probably dead. Will had always been smart, though. He was smart enough to pay attention to patient zero, even when the rest of the country thought it was crazy. She hadn't believed it at first, either, but took heed of the warnings that officials were offering. All of her schooling - eight long, difficult years -had led her to believe that something of the sort was impossible. The science simply wasn't there, and she had always been a firm believer in facts.

Benjamin interrupts her thoughts. "If this keeps happening?" He pauses to gesture around him, a reference to their huddled position. "Maybe a week. Hey, I know you said you did infectious disease and stuff, but what was it you studied in particular?"

His question catches her off guard. For some reason, she thought he he wouldn't care about that. He knows the main apsect of her getting to Sibley, and she thought that would be the extent of his concern. Yet, as soft as his question was spoken, it was clear he was curious.

"I spent a few years researching resevoirs and vectora for disease. Like, in graduate school, I went to a few places in Africa to study the bats there. It's unreal how many diseases they foster, but they rarely ever die because of the diseases themselves," she explains, shaking her head. Her mind flashes back to biohazard suits and trekking through sections of jungles, checking their traps everyday. If she could get through that unharmed, certainly she can get to Sibley. Benjamin doesn't answer, so she continues. "Rabies, ebola, SARs, Marburg -- they're these absolute nightmare diseases that can completely destroy humans, but somehow the bats remain mostly symptom free. I mean, in a away it's a sort of symbiosis - the virus doesn't kill it's vector so it can spread, the bat doesn't die but it can kill - but most of it is based on the bat anatomy, and that's what I considered." As she trails off, she finds a pang in her gut, knowing that what she had worked so hard on would have no implications in the current pandemic. Her fingers begin playing absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt.

"That's really interesting," he says, and he sounds sincere. "What about after grad school?"

She shrugs and finds herself releasing a sign. "A little bit of everything? I couldn't really find a niche at some sort of desk job, so I dabbled between labs and facilities. I went back to Congo with the Ebola outbreak a few years ago, and then I sort of focused on the policies related to it. It's sad, y'know? We were terrified about that getting into the United States, so we let those people suffer and die and then we ended up screwed anyways. I wanted to take a second trip over but I was denied because of the risk," the bitterness is still evident in the tone of her voice.

"What do you think it is?" By 'it,' she knows he means CNV-6. She wishes she could answer but shakes her head.

"They say it's a virus, but none of it makes any sense. It's frustrating -- just keep thinking about how the science of it goes against everything I've ever learned."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get the chance to do your work," he surprises her with a comforting pat on her thigh. His hand is big and warm, even through the material of her pants. "You can sleep, if you want. I'm a little wound up so I can take the first watch."

Adrenaline waning, the idea sounds like a good one. There was no guarantee when the next opportunity to sleep in relative comfort and safety would come. Brynn huffed the backpack off her shoulder and put it on the ground, settling herself so it was a makeshift pillow.

“Thanks, Ben,” she yawned, head settling into the rough material. She let her eyes closed and let herself sink into the lull of sleep.