Chapter 6: Red Alert
Geneva, Switzerland – WHO Emergency Operations Center
Dr. Michael Levinson stood before a massive digital screen, displaying a world map speckled with red indicators. Each marked a suspected or confirmed case of the Crimson Strain. Less than 72 hours had passed since the first international case in Singapore, and already there were unverified reports from Dubai, Hong Kong, London, and San Francisco.
“Confirmed cases?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“Singapore, yes,” replied Dr. Elise Moreau, her French accent clipped with urgency. “We have two suspected cases in Dubai—both recent travelers from India. We’re awaiting lab confirmation.”
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the origin?”
An analyst chimed in, flipping through digital reports. “We traced Patient Zero in Singapore to a businessman, Rajat Mehra, who had traveled to Kolkata for an industrial conference. He visited several locations, including a factory and a five-star hotel. He flew business class back to Singapore. That means high exposure.”
Michael’s chest tightened. Flights. Hotels. Public spaces. The virus had incubated silently in Mehra for at least two weeks before he collapsed.
“How many people were on that flight?”
“Two hundred and fifteen passengers, plus crew.”
Silence.
Elise let out a slow breath. “If even 10% of them were infected…”
Michael finished her sentence. “We’re looking at an exponential outbreak.”
A voice from the back of the room cut through the tense quiet.
“We can’t keep this quiet anymore.”
All eyes turned to Dr. Samuel Greene, the CDC’s senior epidemiologist. He looked grim, rubbing his temples as he leaned forward. “By tomorrow, local authorities and journalists will pick up on the Singapore case. If we don’t control the narrative now, we’ll have panic before we even understand the full scope of this outbreak.”
Michael nodded. “We go public.”
A pause.
Then he turned to his assistant.
“Prepare a global advisory. We’re declaring a Category 4 Epidemic Alert.”
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2
Pune, India – National Institute of Virology
Dr. Ananya Bose scanned the genetic sequence of the virus on her screen, her stomach twisting.
The virus was evolving.
Replication rate: Accelerating.
Immune system evasion: Increasing.
Antiviral response: Minimal.
It wasn’t just mutating randomly—it was adapting. It had already developed proteins that masked it from immune detection, making early symptoms virtually undetectable.
She turned to Dr. Rishi Malhotra, who was running additional simulations. “We’re looking at something unprecedented.”
Rishi’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “It’s learning.”
Ananya leaned back, her mind racing. “What if it was designed to do this?”
Rishi’s expression darkened. “You’re suggesting biological engineering?”
“We can’t rule it out.” She exhaled. “I need access to military-grade biosecurity databases. If there’s even a whisper of a similar virus anywhere, I need to see it.”
Her phone buzzed.
It was Michael Levinson.
“We’re elevating the crisis level,” he said without preamble. “This virus isn’t just spreading. It’s spreading intelligently.”
Ananya’s grip on the phone tightened. “Michael, we have a problem. The virus isn’t behaving like a natural pathogen. It’s evasive, calculated.”
A pause.
Then, Michael’s voice, lower, colder.
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I think someone made this.”
A longer silence.
Then Michael said, “Get to Delhi. Now.”
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3
Singapore – Changi General Hospital
The intensive care ward was locked down.
Dr. Liang Wei, Singapore’s top infectious disease expert, pulled on his PPE suit, stepping into the negative pressure isolation chamber where Rajat Mehra lay motionless.
His organs were failing.
The virus wasn’t just attacking the lungs—it was shutting down the liver, kidneys, and circulatory system. Doctors had seen something similar before—with Ebola and Marburg, but not like this. Not this fast.
Liang checked the biometrics monitor. Heart rate: Irregular. Blood oxygen: Critically low.
Then, suddenly—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The machine screamed as Mehra went into cardiac arrest.
Liang lunged for the defibrillator. “CLEAR!”
The jolt sent Mehra’s body jerking.
Nothing.
“Again!”
Another shock.
Still nothing.
Liang’s hands clenched. He was gone.
A nurse’s voice broke the stunned silence. “Doctor… look.”
Liang followed her gaze to the patient’s fingers.
Dark crimson lesions were spreading across the skin, branching like fractured veins.
The Crimson Strain had claimed its first confirmed international fatality.
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4
Dubai International Airport
A passenger at Gate C14 coughed into his sleeve. His head throbbed.
He was a business traveler, returning from a conference in India.
He felt off—a little feverish. Probably just fatigue from travel.
But as he stood to board his flight to New York, his vision swam.
His legs buckled.
And then, before anyone could react, he collapsed.
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5
Delhi, India – Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR) Headquarters
The conference room at ICMR Headquarters in Delhi was packed with top scientists, military advisors, and intelligence officers.
Dr. Ananya Bose stood at the front, next to a projection of the virus’s genetic sequence.
She took a breath.
“This virus isn’t natural.”
Silence.
Then, Brigadier Rajat Chauhan, the Indian Army’s biodefense specialist, leaned forward. “Are you saying we’re dealing with bioterrorism?”
Ananya met his gaze.
“I’m saying someone created this virus. And they released it.”
Chauhan’s face hardened. “Then the real question is… who?”
And why?