“Just letting you know. If you want to come along,” Shane glanced at the RV, “maybe take some people with you. More numbers we got, more chance they’ll just stand down.”

Elliott considered this. “I’ve heard the roads are blocked—military checkpoints.”

Shane glanced back at the truck. “Yeah, we got a plan for that.” He stepped away from the door. “Hope you join us. Either way, good luck.”

Back in his study, Elliott watched several neighbors raise their garage doors, get in their cars and trucks, and join the growing convoy.

When the procession had departed, the neighbors Elliott had convened at his home days earlier once again descended on his house. He gathered them in his study, where they sat and argued.

Finally, Elliott said, “Okay, stop. Raise your hand if someone in your family is being held in the downtown quarantine zone.”

Four hands went up. “Raise a hand if you’ve got someone sick at home.”

Three more hands went up.

He leaned back in his chair. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

At the CDC headquarters, Millen stood at a seventh-floor window. Below, his colleagues and other BioShield staff were filing out, loading onto the city buses and school buses.

Phil walked up and stood beside him, but said nothing.

“Where will they take them?” Millen asked.

“Outside the cordon. Hopefully outside the battle lines.”

Millen watched figures in FEMA jackets loading food into a box van.

Ten minutes ago, Millen had heard a rumor that the president had died from X1-Mandera. Or had been assassinated.

“Is it true? The president’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s in charge?”

“One way or another, I’d say the Citium is in charge now.”

Thirty minutes later, Millen was wearing a positive pressure suit. The door to the BSL-4 lab hissed open, and he walked in to find Halima lying on the bed, watching the portable DVD player. Tian was playing with a handheld game console.

Halima smiled at Millen and put the DVD player aside. “I was worried. Everyone left.”

Millen set some food on the steel-topped table. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. No one came this afternoon. All the researchers stormed out. We couldn’t hear what they were saying.”

Millen forced his voice to remain calm. “It’s nothing. Just urgent meetings. I’ll bring the food from now on. Would you like that?”

She nodded as she took a bite of the sandwich.

“Good. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

And he would. He had made a promise to take care of the two Kenyans, and it was a promise he intended to keep. His parents had taught him to take his commitments very seriously. He wondered where his parents were now, if they were safe. There wasn’t much he could do for them. But he would do everything he could for the people of Atlanta and the two Kenyan villagers in his care.