I Work in a Research Lab. The Government is Hiding What We Found.

Hello and welcome back to another episode by Sleepy Pasta. Before you doze off tonight, don't forget to leave a five star review and a comment where you are watching from. Let's begin. I closed the laptop with a groan and rubbed my eyes. 16 hours in this windowless lab had left me feeling like a cave dweller emerging into daylight.

My back cracked as I stretched A protest against being hunched over microscopes and atmospheric readouts since 5:00 in the morning. Finally calling it quits, Hudson? Bernard asked from the doorway, his lab coat already exchanged for a worn leather jacket. Yeah, just finishing up the atmospheric logs. You heading out?

Bernard nodded. Been gone for an hour already, Just forgot my phone. He held it up like evidence. Stephanie left around 8. Told me to remind you that humans need sleep occasionally.

I smiled despite my exhaustion. Noted. I'll be right behind you. After Bernard left, I turned back to the specimen chamber housing XP 117. The alien plant sample looked deceptively ordinary, something like a purple Fern with iridescent edges that caught the light.

But its cellular structure was unlike anything on Earth, and its ability to adapt to new atmospheric conditions was why we'd been studying it for months. I checked the atmospheric controls one last time, adjusting the oxygen level slightly. That's when I noticed it, condensation forming on the observation window, clouding the view into the main chamber.

I frowned, the temperature differential must have been greater than I thought. I walked over and unlatched the window, swinging it open to wipe away the fog with my sleeve. My phone buzzed in my pocket as I was cleaning the glass. I pulled it out to see a text from Lucy. Don't forget we have dinner with my parents next weekend.

Also, I picked up that Curry you like. It's in the fridge if you're hungry when you get home. I smiled and typed back. You're amazing. I'll be home in 30.

By the time I looked up from my phone, the condensation had cleared. I glanced at the time. Almost midnight. I needed to finish my notes and get out of here. I returned to the computer, typed up my observations about the specimen's reaction to the modified atmosphere, and saved the data to our secure server.

My eyes felt like they had sand in them. I shut down the equipment, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. As I hit the lights, a nagging thought stopped me. Did I close that observation window? I looked back at the darkened lab, the specimen chamber barely visible in the emergency lighting.

I'm sure I did, I thought I always do, but had I this time? I couldn't specifically remember closing it. I stood in the doorway, debating whether to go back and check. My phone buzzed again with another text from Lucy. Don't work too late, miss you.

I glanced at my watch. If I didn't leave now, I'd missed the last shuttle to the parking lot and have to walk the half mile in the cold. The window was probably closed anyway. The chambers had automatic safeguards. One small window wouldn't compromise anything significant.

Night. Bryce called Mildred, one of the lab assistants working the night shift, as she passed by with a stack of reports. Night. I replied, making my final decision. I closed the lab door behind me and headed for the exit.

The drive home took 20 minutes through empty streets. Our apartment was dark except for the small lamp we always left on in the living room. I set my keys down as quietly as possible and checked the fridge. Sure enough, there was a container of yellow Curry with my name written on it. I was too tired to eat, though food could wait until morning.

I crept into the bedroom where Lucy was already asleep, her Auburn hair spread across the pillow, one arm flung over what should have been my side of the bed. I watched her for a moment, grateful for her understanding of my ridiculous hours and frequent distraction. The bathroom light seemed painfully bright as I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower.

The hot water washed away the sterile smell of the lab that always clung to my skin and clothes. I scrubbed thoroughly, making sure to get any potential chemical residue off me. Lab safety protocols were second nature after all these years. Clean and even more exhausted, I slipped into bed beside Lucy. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling against me.

I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes as sleep pulled me under. That nagging thought returned one last time. Had I closed that observation window but exhaustion one out before I could properly worry about it? What I couldn't know, what none of us could have predicted, was that microscopic spores from XP117 were already drifting through that open window.

Too small to be seen by the naked eye, they floated into the ventilation system, carried by air currents throughout the facility. By morning they would reach places they were never meant to be, setting in motion events that would change everything. But for now, I slept blissfully unaware of what I had done. The sound of my phone jolted me awake.

I grabbed for it, blindly knocking over a glass of water on the night stand. The screen showed 5 missed calls from Jeff Matthews. Lucy stirred beside me. What time is it? She mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

7:30 I said, already sitting up and listening to the first voicemail. Jeff's voice came through tents and clipped Bryce, we have a situation at the facility. I need you here immediately. Call me back. Each subsequent message grew more urgent.

The final one, left just 10 minutes ago, made my stomach drop. This is a Level 3 emergency. The overnight team isn't responding, and we've lost contact with the lab wing. Get here now. I jumped out of bed, nearly tripping as I yanked open my dresser drawer.

What's going on? Lucy asked, propping yourself up on one elbow. Something's wrong at the lab. I pulled on jeans and grabbed the first shirt I touched. Jeff wouldn't call like this unless it was serious.

The memory of the observation window hit me like a punch to the gut. Had I closed it, I couldn't remember actually doing it, just thinking about it as I left. Be careful. Lucy called as I rushed out of the bedroom. I will, I'll call you when I know what's happening.

I said, already halfway down the hallway. I didn't bother with coffee, just grabbed my keys and ran to my car. The drive to the facility usually took 20 minutes. I made it in 12. The parking lot had three black SUVs with government plates and a security team in tactical gear.

Standing by the main entrance, my stomach twisted tighter. Jeff stood at the entrance checkpoint with Colton Jenkins, the head of security. Both looked grim. What's happening? I asked as I jogged up to them.

Jeff's face was drawn deep lines around his mouth. We lost contact with the overnight team around 4:00 AM. All 17 staff members, no response on radios, phones, nothing. And all the security cameras in the East Wing went dark around the same time, Colton added. We've been trying to establish contact for the past three hours.

Have you sent anyone in? I asked. Colton shook his head. Standard quarantine protocol. If it's a biological event, we contain first, then assess with proper equipment.

I was working with XP117 last night, I said. I opened the observation window to clear condensation, and I can't remember closing it before I left. Jeff's expression hardened. You what? I meant to close it.

I think I did. But you think Jeff cut me off? That specimen is under Level 2 containment protocols for a reason, Hudson. I know. I'm sorry.

The words felt painfully inadequate. Let me go in. If this is related to XP 117, I know more about it than anyone. Jeff and Colton exchange Looks. We have hazmat suits prepped, Colton said after a moment.

The protocol says we wait for the CDC team. They're an hour out. An hour could make a difference for whoever's in there. I argued if something happened to the specimen and it released spores or toxins. Jeff rubbed his face.

Suit up. But you stay in radio contact the entire time, and you pull out at the first sign of trouble. 20 minutes later, I stood at the sealed doors to the east wing in a hazmat suit with an oxygen tank. The suit made movement awkward. Colton checked my radio channel.

3 is direct to me. 4 is the command center. If you see any staff, try to get them to evacuate. But your primary mission is assessment only, understand? I nodded the helmet making the motion feel exaggerated.

Got it. We're breaking protocol, letting you in there. He said, his voice serious. Don't make me regret it. The airlock opened and closed behind me.

The entrance hallway had white walls, fluorescent lights, and safety posters. As I move deeper into the facility, I noticed a thin film of purple material on the floor, growing thicker toward the main laboratory corridor. Jenkins, are you seeing this? I asked, the radio crackling in my helmet. A video feed is coming through.

What am I looking at? Some kind of growth on the floors and walls, it looks like. I bent down, careful not to touch it. It looks like the protective coating XP117 produces when it's stressed. The coating thickened down the hallway by the time I reached the junction to Lab 7.

My lab. The walls were covered in sheets of purple, translucent material that pulsed faintly. Hudson report. Colton's voice came through tense. The growth is everywhere.

It's spreading along the walls, following the ventilation system. I swallowed hard. I think spores from XP 117 got into the air circulation. I rounded the corner toward Lab 7 and stopped short. The door was partially open, blocked by thick, ropey vines of purple vegetation.

On the floor outside lay a radio, it's red emergency light blinking steadily. I found Doctor Hernandez's radio outside Lab 7. I reported, recognizing the tape with his name wrapped around the antenna. No sign of him. Can you access the lab?

Jeff's voice came through now. I pushed against the door. The vegetation resisted, but gave way slightly. Yes, I think so. Bracing my shoulder against the door, I shoved hard.

The plant material tore with a wet ripping sound, and I stumbled into what had once been my laboratory. I couldn't recognize the lab anymore. Alien plants covered every surface. Counters, equipment, computers. The specimen chambers were shattered glass fragments stuck in mats of vegetation, and the observation window I'd opened gaped wide, it's frame bent outward as if something had forced its way out.

Oh God, I whispered. What is it? Colton demanded Hudson report. The lab is it's completely taken over. XP117 has grown exponentially.

The entire room is filled with it. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. The observation window is open. I didn't close it. This is my fault.

A movement caught my eye. Something shifted in the corner where Bernard's workstation had been. A figure rose slowly from behind an overturned desk, and I recognized Bernard's leather jacket, the same one he'd been wearing when he stopped by last night. Bernard. I called out.

Bernard Bryce, are you hurt? Bernard turned toward me and I stumbled backward. His skin had turned green, with vines protruding from his neck and cheeks. His eyes glowed amber without pupils. When he opened his mouth, spores puffed out instead of words.

Jenkins Matthews. Bernard Rivera is here, but he's changed. The plant has somehow infected him. It's growing out of his skin. Bernard took a lurching step toward me, arms outstretched.

Hudson, get out of there now, Jeff shouted through the radio. Movement from the adjacent lab caught my attention. Two more figures emerged. Dr. Reeves and Mildred Pierce.

Both showed the same horrific transformation. Green skin, plant structures erupting from their flesh, glowing amber eyes. Purple tendrils writhe through Mildred's black hair. All three of them move toward me with slow, uncoordinated steps. They're all infected.

I said, backing toward the door. The plant is growing inside them, taking over their bodies. Bernard's mouth opened again, and this time a sound emerged, a horrible rasping noise that might have been my name. I slammed the lab door shut behind me and sprinted down the corridor, my hazmat suit squeaking with every movement.

The rasping sounds of my transformed colleagues followed me, but I couldn't look back, not now. Command, this is Hudson. I gasped into my radio. I'm sealing off the East wing. The situation is worse than we thought.

Jeff's voice crackled back, tight with tension. What did you find in there, Bryce? It's Bernard and the others there. I struggled to find words as I reached the emergency containment panel. They've been changed.

The plant is inside them somehow. I yanked down the red lever marked emergency containment. Steel shutters slid from the ceiling with a deafening mechanical groan, sealing off the lab wing behind me. Through the narrowing gap, I caught a final glimpse of Bernard's glowing amber eyes before the barrier slammed shut. Hudson, get to security.

Colton ordered through the radio. We need to see what we're dealing with. I nodded, even though no one could see me on my way. I hurried to the security office 2 corridors away, the hazmat suit slowing my pace. Purple tendrils of growth had already appeared along the air vents in the empty hallways.

I was breathing too fast. The security office door was ajar. Inside, screens lined the walls, showing different sections of the facility. Most displayed only static, but a few still worked. I dropped into the chair at the main console and started typing.

I'm accessing the overnight footage, I said into the radio. Let's see when this started. I pulled up the archived footage, rewinding to 10:00 PM last night after I'd left the lab. Looked normal. I fast forwarded through hours of empty corridors and scientists working late until I reached 2:00 AM.

That's when I saw it on screen. Purple mist seeped from Lab 7's ventilation ducts at 2:17 AM. I switched cameras to track it moving through the facility's ventilation system. By 3:00 AM, the mist reached the break room, where three night shift technicians were having coffee. They didn't notice at first.

Then Rodriguez from engineering started coughing. The others rushed to help him, breathing in the same contaminated air. By 4:00 AM, the security feed showed chaos. Staff members stumbled through hallways, clutching their throats. Others tried to help, but got exposed themselves.

The final footage at 4:23 AM showed Mildred Pierce looking directly into a camera, her eyes glowing amber. Before the feed cut to static, 27 staff members had been working overnight, all of them exposed, all because I'd left a window open. Oh God, I whispered, my voice barely audible even to myself. This is my fault.

The full weight of what I'd done crashed down on me. One careless mistake, one tiny oversight, and now 27 people were what? Infected. Transformed. I couldn't even name what had happened to them.

Hudson report. Jeff's voice cut through my spiral of guilt. What are you seeing? I swallowed hard. The spores spread through the ventilation system starting at approximately 2:15 this morning from Lab 7.

From the observation window I left open, all 27 overnight staff were exposed. The silence that followed told me everything about how Jeff was taking this news. The footage shows the infection progressing rapidly. I continued forcing myself to be clinical. Within two hours, all staff showed signs of transformation.

Can you determine a pattern? Colton asked. Any way to predict how this thing spreads? I studied the footage again, looking for anything useful. That's when I noticed something.

Wait, I said. Look at the progression. The infection spread fastest in areas with higher oxygen levels. I pulled up the facilities, environmental controls, the labs and medical areas maintain oxygen at 23% for experiments. Those areas were overtaken within an hour, but the storage areas and hallways with standard atmosphere took longer.

So the Organism thrives on oxygen. Jeff said. That tracks with what we know about XP 117. It showed accelerated growth in oxygen rich environments. During controlled tests, an idea formed in my mind.

If it needs oxygen, then maybe. I stood up and moved to the emergency equipment locker in the corner of the security office. Inside I found what I was looking for, a nitrogen enhanced breathing apparatus designed for fire suppression work. I'm going back in, I said, already removing my hazmat helmet. Absolutely not, Jeff barked.

CDC will be here in 30 minutes. We wait for the professionals in 30 minutes. This could spread beyond containment, I argued, fitting the nitrogen apparatus over my face. I need to find out if any staff survived, and I think I know how to move through safely. The nitrogen breather would give me air with reduced oxygen content, not enough to harm me during short exposure, but hopefully enough to make me less attractive to the Organism.

Hudson, this is a direct order, Jeff began. I caused this. I cut him off. I need to try to fix it. I switched my radio to channel 3, direct to Colton only.

I'm going to the central lab, I told him quietly. If I can reach the parent specimen, maybe I can find a way to stop this. Colton's voice came back low and serious. You've got 20 minutes before I send in a team. Keep your tracker on.

I nodded and headed for the secondary entrance to the east wing. The nitrogen breather felt strange in my lungs. I checked the gauge on my wrist. 19% oxygen instead of the normal 21%. Not dangerous for short exposure, but noticeable.

At the entrance I paused with my hand on the door. Beyond this point was unknown territory. The facility I knew had been transformed into something alien and it was my fault. I took a deep breath of the nitrogen rich air and pushed through. Purple growth covered the corridors, pulsing like breath.

The floor felt spongy. I moved slowly, testing each step before shifting my weight. I needed to find survivors. The cafeteria was central to the facility. If anyone had barricaded themselves, that would be the spot.

I headed there, moving quietly. The cafeteria doors were blocked by vines. I cut through them with my pocket knife and the plants oozed a clear fluid that smelled like copper and something unfamiliar. When I'd created an opening large enough, I squeezed through into the cafeteria. The scene inside made me freeze.

Doctor Hernandez stood in the center of the room, his skin the same sickly green as Bernard's had been. Vine like structures protruded from his neck and arms, pulsing gently behind him. Two. I rushed to the environmental control panel, my boots slipping on the purple growth that covered the floor. The panel was only 20 feet away, but it felt like miles as the transformed staff members swarmed from all directions.

Their movements were unnaturally quick now, not the shambling gate I'd seen earlier. Bryce, look out. Lucy's voice cut through the chaos. I spun around to see her at the lab entrance, her face pale with fear. What was she doing here?

She was supposed to be safe outside. Lucy, get out of here. I shouted, my voice muffled by the nitrogen breather. Dr. Reeves lunged at me from the left, amber eyes glowing, mouth open in a silent scream.

I ducked under his grasp, feeling the air shift as his fingers brushed past my head. Bernard blocked the path to the control panel, his green skin pulsing with what looked like internal light. The oxygen controls. I yelled to Lucy. We need to cut the oxygen.

Lucy nodded and sprinted across the room. Doctor Reeves turned toward her, his movements jerky but fast. I tried to intercept him, but Mildred grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. The vines extending from her neck writhed toward my face mask. I twisted away from Mildred, breaking her grip.

Lucy, hurry. Lucy was halfway to the panel when Doctor Reeves cut her off. She didn't hesitate. She lowered her shoulder and tackled in full force. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and purple tendrils.

Go. She screamed, wrestling with Reeves as the plant structures on his body tried to wrap around her arms. I bolted for the control panel. Jumping over a mass of pulsing vegetation. Bernard stepped into my path, but I was ready.

I fainted left, then dodged right when he lunged, his movements predictable in their stiffness. The panel was right in front of me now. I slammed my hand on the emergency purge button and twisted the oxygen control dial all the way down. The computerized voice announced warning. Atmospheric adjustment in progress.

Nitrogen levels increasing. Hissing filled the room as nitrogen flooded in through the ventilation system. The overhead lights turned red, bathing everything in a bloody glow. I pulled the breather mask tighter against my face, making sure the seal was intact. The effect on the transformed staff was immediate.

Bernard staggered backward, the vine like structures on his neck contracting. Mildred fell to her knees, her amber eyes dimming. All around the lab, the purple growth on the walls began to pulse more slowly, but the parent specimen, the original XP 117 sample, seemed to be fighting back. It's purple fronds expanded, reaching toward the vents as if trying to block the nitrogen flow.

It's adapting. I shouted to Lucy who had pushed away from a now weakened Dr. Reeves. I looked around frantically and spotted a laboratory torch on a nearby bench. I grabbed it and flicked the ignition switch.

The torch sputtered in the nitrogen rich air but caught with a blue flame. Lucy scrambled to her feet. Bryce, what are you doing? Fire. I said, moving toward the specimen chamber.

It needs to burn. The transformed staff members were all on the ground now, writhing in distress as the oxygen levels dropped below what the Organism needed to maintain control. I reached the parent specimen and held the torch to its central mass. Despite the nitrogen rich atmosphere, the purple Fern caught fire immediately. The flames were an unnatural color, blue-green with flashes of Violet.

The burning plant made a high pitched sound, almost like a scream. The infected staff members arched their backs in unison, as if feeling the specimen's pain. The fire spread quickly across the alien plant, consuming the iridescent edges first. As the primary Organism burned, something remarkable happened. The plant structures inside the transformed staph began to shrivel.

Bernard's skin lost its green tint and the vines retreating into his flesh like melting ice. The lab's fire suppression system activated, spraying a fine mist from ceiling nozzles, but the specimen continued to burn. It was almost gone now, reduced to ash and a few twitching fronds. I dropped the torch and ran to Lucy, who was watching the transformed staff with wide eyes.

Doctor Reeves lay beside her, the amber glow fading from his eyes as he took shallow, ragged breaths. We need to get out of here. I said, pulling Lucy up. The fire system will contain the flames, but we don't know what else might happen. We stumbled toward the exit, Lucy leaning against me.

Behind us, the last of the specimen crumbled into ash, and the mist from the fire suppression system settled over everything like a shroud. I sat on the edge of a hospital bed, watching through a glass wall as medical staff moved between patients in the quarantine ward. The clock on the wall read 4:30 in the afternoon.

I'd been at Phoenix Memorial Hospital for almost 10 hours now, ever since they brought us in from the facility. Lucy lay in the bed next to mine, an IV in her arm and sensors monitoring her vitals. She'd been sleeping for the past hour, exhausted from the ordeal and the battery of tests they'd run on both of us.

Her Auburn hair was spread across the white pillow, reminding me of how she'd looked just two nights ago when I came home late, before everything went wrong. Doctor Hernandez occupied the bed across from us. His skin still had a faint greenish tint, but the doctor said it was fading. He'd been one of the first infected but had somehow survived.

The medical team thought his diabetes might have played a role. His lower blood oxygen levels possibly slowed the organisms takeover. A tap on the glass drew my attention. Doctor Molly Tran from the CDC stood outside, clipboard in hand. She gestured toward the intercom button.

I crossed the room and pressed it. Any news? Good news, actually, she said, her voice clinical but not unkind. We've confirmed complete neutralization of the spores in all surviving patients, the combination of nitrogen exposure and the destruction of the parent Organism. The combination of nitrogen exposure and the destruction of the parent Organism appears to have been effective, Doctor Tran continued.

We're monitoring for any signs of regeneration, but so far all tissue samples show the alien cells are completely inert. I nodded, relief washing through me and the facility contained. The fire destroyed the primary specimen, and we've sterilized the entire east wing with targeted UV radiation and chemical agents. She made a note on her clipboard.

Your quick thinking saved lives, Mr. Hudson. I looked away, unable to accept her praise. I caused it in the first place. Yes.

Doctor Tran didn't sugarcoat it, but you also fixed it. Sometimes that's the best we can do. She moved on to check other patients, leaving me with my thoughts. I returned to my bed and looked around the quarantine ward. 11 beds were occupied, 11 survivors out of 27 exposed people.

16 of my colleagues were gone because I couldn't remember if I'd closed a window. Bernard was in the ICU, two floors up. The doctors weren't sure if he'd make it, but they were hopeful. His exposure had been among the earliest and most prolonged, but the Organism had retreated from his system when the parent specimen burned.

Lucy stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open. Hey, she whispered. Hey, yourself. I moved to sit on the edge of her bed. How are you feeling?

Like I got hit by a truck. She tried to smile. A truck covered in alien plants. I took her hand, careful of the IV line. What were you doing there, Lucy?

You're supposed to stay outside with Jeff and the security team. Jeff got a call that you'd stop responding on the radio. She squeezed my fingers weekly. They were about to send in a team, but I volunteered. I knew the lab layout from when you gave me that tour last month.

That was incredibly stupid, I said. But there was no heat in my words. Says the guy who went in alone in the first place. She coughed and a nurse glanced our way. Besides, I was right.

You needed help. I couldn't argue with that. If Lucy hadn't tackled Dr. Reeves, I might never have reached the environmental controls. We might all be transformed now, or worse.

Thank you, I said, the words feeling small compared to what she'd done. She nodded, her eyes already growing heavy again. Just don't make me do it twice, OK? Deal. Lucy drifted back to sleep, and I stayed beside her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Across the room, Doctor Hernandez was sitting up in bed, talking quietly with one of the nurses. In the bed next to him, Mildred Pierce lay perfectly still, monitors beeping steadily beside her. The survivors would all need extensive physical therapy. Doctor Tran had explained that while the Organism was gone, it had left behind tissue damage and neurological changes that would take time to heal.

Some might never fully recover. I thought about the dinner with Lucy's parents that we were supposed to attend this weekend. That would have to wait. Everything would have to wait while we figured out what our lives look like now. Jeff Matthews appeared at the glass wall, looking haggard.

When he caught my eye, he gave a small nod, Not forgiveness, exactly, but acknowledgement. He held up a tablet, showing me something on the screen. I couldn't make out the details, but I recognized the CDC logo and what looked like a preliminary report. I would face an inquiry, of course. There would be questions about protocols, about why I'd left the observation window open, about my decision to go back into the contaminated area against orders.

I'd answer for all of it. But that was tomorrow's problem. Today I just watched over Lucy and the others, keeping a silent vigil as the afternoon faded into evening. Doctor Tran returned an hour later with a team of specialists. They moved from bed to bed, checking vitals and making notes.

When they reached Lucy, Doctor Tran motioned for me to step aside. We're seeing good progress, she told me as her colleagues examine Lucy. The cellular reversion is continuing, even without further intervention. What does that mean for long term effects? I asked, Too early to say with certainty, but the human body is remarkably resilient.

She looked at me directly. You should know that Colton Jenkins is recommending you for a commendation. Despite everything, your actions saved the entire facility from being overrun. I shook my head. I don't want a commendation.

What do you want, Mr. Hudson? The question caught me off guard. What did I want to turn back time to remember to close that damn window. I want to help them recover.

I said, finally looking around to the survivors. Whatever it takes, this happened because of me, so I need to be part of making it right. Doctor Tron studied me for a moment, then nodded. We could use someone with your expertise on the recovery team. I'll make some calls.

She moved on to the next patient, leaving me standing beside Lucy's bed. I watched the medical team work their movements, efficient and purposeful. They knew what they were doing. Maybe I could learn from them, find a way to be useful instead of destructive. I returned to my own bed and sat down heavily.

The weight of what had happened, what I had caused, settled over me like a physical thing. 16 people dead, 11 forever changed. All because I got distracted by a text message and couldn't remember if I'd closed a window. But we had contained the immediate threat. The Organism was destroyed, the spores neutralized, the facility was being cleaned and would eventually reopen.

And I was still here, still able to try to make amends. I looked at Lucy, peaceful in sleep despite everything she'd been through. I thought about her tackling Dr. Reeves without hesitation, buying me the seconds I needed. I thought about Bernard in the ICU, fighting to survive, about Doctor Hernandez already sitting up and talking despite the green tint to his skin.

I couldn't undo what I'd done, but I could be there for the survivors, help them rebuild their lives. I could make sure nothing like this ever happened again. It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for 16 lives, but it was something, a place to start. I settled back against the pillows and closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to think, to plan.

To figure out how to live with what I'd done and what I still needed to do. The machines beeped steadily around us, marking the rhythm of survival. Outside our quarantine room, the hospital continued its business of healing, and I made a silent vow to the people who hadn't made it, and to those who had.

I would help them recover whatever it took.