Participants:
| Scene Title | We've Got Bodies |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Fortunately, they're still breathing. |
| Date | January 6, 2009 |
Dockside Warehouse, Queens
The call came in, and Elisabeth was pole-axed. How the BLOODY HELL is she going to get SCOUT moving on this without giving away the whole ball game. Worse yet, when she puts the call in to headquarters, the only person on duty is Baxter. And when she tells him what she's been given — that there's a possible biohazard out there and that she doesn't know whether to call in the captain and the squad, she's told that Harvard has several of the rest of the team out on another situation. So basically? It's Elisabeth, Baxter, and a bunch of regular cops who get tapped to back them up. It's not a good situation. And when the cop cars and the EMTs and such come tearing into the area, Elisabeth has already warned them on the radio that they need full hazmat gear before approaching the freight container. Yeah…. this is going to be fun to explain to Will, that's for sure.
Now, Helena did mention the body some blocks away. That's being dealt with by the regular cops. But what Elisabeth sees is an empty, unlocked warehouse, housing a truck with the freight car on its rig. Inside the freight car are nine people - three men, six women - in a medical coma, their IV's hanging from the ceiling of their enclosed confinement. The key is still in the ignition of the cab.
Baxter is flying. Not in that conspicuous, Peter Pan-in-the-sky, figure eights and slicing clouds apart kind of way, but a hover not far from the ground, preferring the familiarity and agility he has in the air to stomping around on the concrete, even if the silhouette he cuts is a little less awesome than usual, what with the hazmat suit's baggy contours encumbering his lean frame. He hadn't asked Liz many questions when she sought to rally the troops, either because he's dense and thoughtless or because he's extremely not; it's hard to tell just from looking at him, his face dimmed by the transparent window of his helmet, all bird-sharp curiosity and acuity.
Off to right of Elisabeth's shoulder — and same for the other cops on the network, earpieces crackle to life. "Harrison," it sounds a little belated, a snag to his cheery voice, as if Jordan had been about to bob on ahead without her. Remembered, last minute, this is her rodeo. "You want us to check it out first, before we line out to the CDC guys?"
The hazmat gear is DAMN uncomfortable. "Yeah, Baxter," she replies to him quietly. "Although these folks are probably not a danger, we should take a look at the scene itself." She looks toward the head of the medical team. "We'll make sure there's nothing questionable, and you can take the people." She doesn't presume at this point to tell them to quarantine the subjects. HomeSec and the CDC will make short work of that. And she reported that it was tipped off to be a highly vrulent contagion, whatever it is. "Go ahead and take a pass on over. I don't see how they're a threat except to people's health."
The people seem quite sedated. Since they're in transport with nothing much in the way of anything to stop biohazard, they're either not incubated yet, or incubated but have not been triggered. Still, it's not exactly easy to tell in their present state.
Although it may tempt the flying man to point out that Liz isn't really giving his health the proper recognition, Baxter's professional enough not to point that out across the open line. He says, "Roger." His chubbily-shod feet swing high, the axis of his body taking a horizontal parallel to the floor of the warehouse. An extra flashlight clicks on at his wrist, and he goes high. Begins to sweep the area, a wide, round-cornered rectangle to assure himself first that there are no electronic anythings in the corners and edges of the walls of the surrounding building, before he drops down toward the truck, swooping low, slow — for him, anyway, hovering above the prone bodies of the comatose people.
A miracle of proprioception, he manages not to touch anything at all. Glances about in search of any binders or paperwork that might otherwise have instructed an overseer, once, on how to maintain these people. "Looks like they're being kept alive and under. No symptoms I can make out. And I don't see anything else." He emerges feet-first under the ceiling of the truck, somersaults up to float upright above it.
Leaving Baxter to keep on checking, Elisabeth turns to the lead medical person — a Dr. Bishop, if she remembers right. "Well, Doctor," she tells him, "I believe it's all yours. Homeland Security has a team inbound with CDC backup, so they're just calling for straight quarantine, don't even treat," she tells him quietly. He looks pissed, but he simply nods. It goes against his oath to not treat someone, but this is New York. The CDC will have boots on the ground before he even gets back to the hospital. Looking into the sky, Liz says to Bax, "Let's escort 'em in, and I guess that's all we really need to do." Except wait for the crap to roll downhill…. cuz Will's SURE to have a conniption.
 January 6th: Serendipity |
 January 6th: Exit Wounds |