Chapter 17 (Part 1)

"And now to the news... In Night City, the cause of the sudden epidemic that loomed over our city about a month ago has been identified. Preliminary assessments by experts studying the virus suggest that birds, having spent a long time in dangerous radioactive zones and undergoing severe mutations, are the carriers. The virus reaches the replication stage very quickly after infection, leaving no time for humans to seek professional help in time. Experts also noted that in addition to birds, domestic animals, including cattle, have become carriers. The city's mayor strongly advises everyone to take all necessary precautions and adhere to quarantine measures, I repeat...

"They've been playing the same thing all week." Mike sighed heavily, shifting his attention to Kiwi. The girl was analyzing data from the analyzer and frowned in displeasure, muttering to herself.

"They want to amplify the effect of a problem they created themselves. I wouldn't be surprised if the virus was originally meant to be much weaker, but something went wrong, and as usual, it all went to hell," I shrugged, finally finishing the blood test for antibody production. Unfortunately, the results were disheartening. Two people had already been infected, and something had to be done about it.

"Alex, what do you have there?" Roosevelt approached me, peeking over my left shoulder. "Damn!" cursed the medic.

"Any ideas on how to treat this mess?" I turned to face the doctor, hoping to hear an answer from a more knowledgeable specialist in these matters.

"Strong antiviral drugs, as well as a vitamin regimen for the entire camp. Plus, we'll have to stop any trips to the city for a while." The doctor bit the tip of his finger, momentarily zoning out. Apparently, he was checking the databases in his chip, trying to fish something out.

"I'm worried about Rachel." Kiwi, unnoticed by me, was suddenly beside me and touched my hand. I still don't understand how she manages to get so close to me, stealthily invading my personal space.

"Don't worry, in the worst-case scenario, we can use my blood." I smiled reassuringly at the blonde.

"Your blood might indeed be useful, but you better not resort to such a method without extreme necessity. You understand the potential risks involved." Mike lowered his hand to his chin, lightly stroking his week-old stubble.

"I understand perfectly, but the virus is synthetic. I'm almost certain the creators of the virus took all possible scenarios into account, and the standard approach to treating the disease will not be applicable." I frowned slightly, raising my voice at my mentor.

"Alex," the man paused briefly, saying my name as he searched for less harsh words, "in a worst-case scenario, I'll take you up on your offer, but until then, it's better if we try to solve the problem on our own."

Mike reached into the inner pocket of his medical coat and pulled out a notable box. Inside were cinnamon-scented sticks. I hadn't expected to throw him off balance so much. Roosevelt is probably just as worried as I am, but I was simply refusing to accept the current situation. Our resident doctor doesn't want to show weakness in front of his students, nor does he want to let down the hopes of the entire camp. Mike is currently feeling immense pressure from all sides, and instead of supporting a good specialist, I buried his professional dignity beneath the baseboard. Angered at myself, I had to take several deep breaths to calm my thoughts and return to some semblance of normalcy.

"Forgive me, Mike. Do what you think is necessary." It was awkward to admit my fault, but the situation demanded acknowledgment that I was practically powerless right now.

"Don't worry about it. At your age, I was young and fiery too," the man chuckled awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably. "Nevertheless, at this moment, the entire camp will have to undergo an enhanced course of antiviral drugs. The disease progresses too quickly, meaning the body might not have time to produce antibodies. We need to help it and simultaneously search for a cure. You'll have to be a donor for a bit, Alex."

"I'll survive." I waved my hand dismissively, glancing disapprovingly at Kiwi, who was chuckling to the side. The blonde's face hadn't changed much, but I had come to know this silent troublemaker all too well and read her emotions like an open book.

On one hand, I'm glad Mike knows about my peculiarities. It happened quite by accident. The doctor decided to thoroughly check my body to provide timely medical assistance if necessary, and during the examination, of course, he had serious questions. This was two months after arriving at the camp. Susan and John hinted to him that they were aware of my peculiarity, and the doctor's further questions were naturally resolved. Nomads have an unwritten code of conduct that most community members strive to follow:

1) Protect your clan, especially your kin;

2) Keep your word;

3) Share with your clanmates;

4) Respect the secrets and wishes of your clanmates;

5) Do not endanger the clan;

6) Always take fair payment for honest work.

These straightforward rules allowed the first nomads to gradually transform into the very clans and, subsequently, the peoples who are still alive today. Of course, there's always someone who disregards all these rules, but such individuals don't last long in clans. Afterwards, these renegades usually join the stilettos or spirits, forming something akin to an independent enclave of interests. Such gatherings rarely exceed fifteen people due to a well-known reason. A bunch of moral freaks can't agree with each other and usually, sooner or later, such a group disintegrates, creating a new one from the survivors of the internal strife.

However, even from such an unpleasant incident, there are positives. Gangs and other low-level criminal elements began to die off like flies, unable to afford treatment for themselves. Indeed, Night City has formed too many battle zones of late. If there were three at the beginning of the '60s, now only two out of seven districts can be considered conditionally safe. Perhaps, this is precisely why the virus was developed, as gangs had become too much of a nuisance to corporate business, and constant shootouts in the city could severely impact reputation. In this way, the suits conduct a sort of natural selection among the population, which even affected us. I'm curious about what the corporations will do to nip the epidemic in the bud. Will they really resort to exterminating all the birds in the state, as Bartmoss suggested?

"Alright, all the cards will be revealed soon anyway, better to do something useful in the meantime"...

***

Jeremy Martinez shifted his heavy gaze to the boxes of medicine on the table, which he had stocked up from the nearest pharmacy. Following the announcement of the epidemic, pharmaceuticals in the city had become exorbitantly expensive. Thanks to his wife's job at a local medical facility, it was no trouble for the couple to acquire such costly and, more importantly, otherwise inaccessible goods to the average person.

Just think, a standard pack of immune-supporting tablets now cost about five hundred eddies per pack, which, by standards of six months ago, would have been considered the most blatant and illegal robbery. But now, such prices were everywhere. For the first time, Jeremy was glad that Gloria had agreed to take on such a dangerous job as an emergency medical technician. The job was far from safe, and needless to say, far from easy.

Due to the quarantine, many public places were closed, and residential buildings like the megatowers were forcibly quarantined. For this reason, Martinez could no longer take the job he had found with so much difficulty. His former employers had made great efforts to ruin the life of the former head of security. The megacorporation, to which the man had devoted several years of his life, simply accused him of all mortal sins, without paying him a cent. This joyful news was relayed to him the next day when Jeremy was about to replace one of the security shift supervisors who had come on duty. Yuichiro was also subjected to repression by the employers. The Japanese man was raised in rather old-fashioned ways, distinguished by his strict demeanor towards many aspects of life. It was because of these that Yuichiro decided to end his life by committing ritual seppuku.

Lower and middle-level subordinates were able to keep their jobs, getting off with a small corporate fine. It consisted of a free shift on weekends, which was usually paid. In monetary terms, this amounted to approximately 5-6 thousand eddies, which for a corporate security guard was not such a big shock.

Yet, despite the events that had occurred, Martinez could not blame the Volkov family for what they had done. As the head of security, Jeremy saw and heard more than others, and he was not surprised by the fact that the husband and wife decided to commit a simple act of sabotage in an attempt to save their own skins. In Night City, one can hear similar stories from just about anyone. If something similar had happened to the family of the former head of security, he would have done exactly the same.

"David, why aren't you asleep?" The father's thoughts immediately switched to his sick child, who had been unwell lately.

"I can't fall asleep..." The boy slowly approached his father, dragging his feet.

"Let's check you out." Jeremy gently touched his son's forehead, noting his high fever. "Maybe you're thirsty?" The man carefully lifted the boy into his arms, looking into his flushed face.

"Uh-huh," the child agreed, weakly nodding his head.

"Juice or soda?"

"Juice, I don't like fizzy drinks." David grimaced in displeasure, momentarily imagining the taste of the soda he detested.

"Alright." As soon as Jeremy approached the refrigerator, the apartment's front door swung open. "You're back already?" The man looked at the tired woman slowly making her way to the couch.

"The bosses let us out early. The city's in chaos, and we're literally stitching it up. Deaths are happening every minute in the city." Gloria slowly took off her shoes and dragged herself to the couch.

"Hold this tight." Martinez senior carefully opened a can of juice, handing it to his son. "And this is for you." The man sat next to his wife, offering her another can with his free hand.

"Thanks." The woman gratefully accepted the juice and downed the half-liter container in just a few sips. "Ah, that's so refreshing..." The brunette stretched contentedly, unwittingly drawing Jeremy's gaze to her ample attributes. Gloria caught her husband's carnivorous look, which made her laugh melodically, wiping away the tears that had appeared in the corners of her eyes. "I see you've missed me..."

"Maybe..." Jeremy smiled provocatively, but the child squirming in his arms brought the flirting couple back to reality.

"Davy..." Gloria gently stroked her son's hair, feeling the intense heat emanating from his body.

"He'll get better, David's a strong boy." Martinez managed a strained smile, trying to lighten the gloomy atmosphere.

"It seems he's managed to fall asleep." Gloria carefully took her son into her arms, carrying the boy to his bed. Returning, the brunette once again collapsed tiredly on the couch, closing her heavy eyelids.

"Dear, take medical leave. We have enough funds to comfortably get through this month." Jeremy lovingly embraced his wife, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Do you really think things will change in a month?"

"It has to..." The man shrugged slightly. "Quarantine and mass deaths are primarily disadvantageous to the corporations themselves, so they won't delay solving the problem." His calm voice made Gloria agree with his decision.

"Alright, I'll notify my shift leader and submit an electronic report." The woman sighed sadly, settling more comfortably on her husband's shoulder.

"Excellent..."