The building was a warehouse, and there didn’t seem to be anyone inside.

Desmond moved across the concrete floor, to the first pallet, and peeled back the plastic. Cardboard boxes, flattened for shipping. There were more pallets of them, dozens.

Avery called out in the darkness. “Packing tape over here, must be a thousand rolls.”

William and Desmond joined her. Beyond, they saw pallets stacked with plastic jugs of water.

William stared at the pallets. “I think this is how they did it. Water. Boxes. Packing tape. It’s a distribution system. I bet the cardboard contains the virus. It survives inside the closed cells. Any puncture lets it out. The tape, too. The infected water is likely highly concentrated; they mixed it with water bottles, maybe large jugs that go in offices or a city water supply. What’s left here must be extras they didn’t need. That assumes they manufactured the virus here. If we find it in the main lab complex, that will confirm it.”

Desmond marveled at the genius of the plan. Parcels and water. A very simple yet effective way to distribute a contagion.

“But no cure,” Desmond said.

William thought for a moment. “They may have shipped all of it off-site, to test it elsewhere.”

“Or manufactured it elsewhere,” Avery said.

William nodded. “That’s also a possibility. Let’s keep moving.”

In the next building, they found a manufacturing facility where the boxes and tape had been made and injected with viral particles. There was still no sign of anything that might treat the virus.

The main building, which was four stories, held the labs. Desmond knew it the instant they crossed the threshold. The floor was white linoleum, recently cleaned. The walls were gray, with stainless steel handrails. The vibe was that of a hospital in the sixties, one that had never been updated.

The three stood just inside the door, listening for any movement, hearing none.

William took a step deeper into the building, then another, cautious, as if the white square tiles might be mines that could explode at any moment.

He paused, turned his head.

Desmond heard it too: the whirring of a small electric motor.

William looked up to a black plastic bubble on the ceiling. Extending his rifle into the air, he used the barrel to bring the cover down, revealing a black security camera within. A red light glowed at its base. It panned to get Desmond and Avery into the scene.

William walked past them out the door, whispering for them to follow.

The three stood outside in the falling snow, the yellow moon’s faint light obscured, like a paper lantern behind a sheer white curtain.

“They’re still monitoring the facility,” William said. “Either someone on site or remotely.”

Avery glanced around. “They could have a team in hiding or a rapid response force inbound right now.”