“Copy,” Jake said as Ranger reached the van and flashed his light inside.

Colt was trapped in the driver’s seat by an airbag. He raised a hand. “I’m good.”

“No, he’s not,” said Roy, his light shining into the back windows. “The canisters are out of their cases and one looks damaged.”

“We need to get him out of there,” Ranger said. “The longer he’s inside, the greater chance he’s infected.”

The distant gunfire had died, and Jake was confirming, heading their direction, but Ham talked over him.

“Any way to secure the area to get Colt out of there?”

“Nope,” Ranger said. “Get everybody back. Roy and I will get him.”

Ham peeled out with Skeet, and Ranger heard him stop Jake and his crew at the edge of the driveway.

“Let’s get in there,” Ranger said. He climbed up on the side of the van. “I’ll get Colt. You secure the canisters.”

“Copy,” Roy said. “I’ll get the waterproof containers.” He radioed to Jake’s team to bring the containers while Ranger stood over the window.

“Cover your face, Colt,” he said.

Colt looked at him, face covered in camo paint, and held up an arm, tucked his head under it.

Ranger masked up, then broke the glass to the window with the butt of his weapon. Then he cleared the glass, lay prone, and reached in. With his dive knife, he popped the airbag.

Held out his hand to his brother. “C’mon.”

Colt clamped his hand around his brother’s and let Ranger lever him free.

Meanwhile, Roy put on his mask, opened the back end of the van, and rolled the damaged canister into a black waterproof case that Ham had delivered.

Then, just like that, it was over. Colt, a little dinged up but alive, and Roy securing the other canisters in another container. They dragged the booty away from the van.

Then Ranger picked up the RPG, reloaded it, and turned the van into a fireball to burn off any remaining residue. The fire would neutralize the virus before it could disseminate into the night.

In the glow of the fire Ranger glanced at Colt.

He was grinning, although standing away from them. He raised a fist to Ham, who raised one back from where he stood, six feet away.

No, he hadn’t changed one single bit.

Ranger walked closer. Stopped.

Colt’s eyes shone against the firelight. “That’s how you bag a bear.”

Ranger just looked at him, shook his head. “You should have waited. Now, you’re probably infected.”

“I’m fine.” Colt lowered his hand. “I took out the driver. They almost made off with the canisters.”

“We would have stopped them.” Ranger’s voice sounded calm, but he felt the fraying at the end of it.

“At what cost? What if they’d gotten away from us? Or maybe crashed at a shopping mall?”