Angelina massaged her aching eyes with trembling hands as she considered the lab reports again. She couldn't sleep, anyway. Over a third of the colony was infected, and still the virus, codenamed Isaac, defied their quarantine efforts. Vector unknown; almost 100% mortality.
Just one had survived - a child. So, the only vaccine Angelina could make had to come from him. But to have any chance of saving the remaining thousands, she would need all of his blood.
Angelina's tears fell freely on to the small, sleeping form that stirred before her.
"Hush, my son," she whispered. "Everything will be alright."
