There are some things you just can't overthink. The smallpox virus only infects humans—while animals like cows and monkeys can catch similar viruses, they're not the same strain.
When the WHO declared smallpox eradicated, it wasn't done lightly. Sure, there were political and bureaucratic entanglements, but the methodology behind the declaration was sound and scientific.
In the fifty-plus years since, the WHO has continued its global surveillance of major infectious diseases. No new smallpox cases have ever been detected.
This isn't something up for debate. Unlike diseases like malaria, smallpox leaves no room for ambiguity. The symptoms are unmistakable, and the aftermath is often written all over the survivor's face—those deep, cratered pockmarks don't just fade away.
Which brings the question: how does a virus gone from human society for half a century suddenly pop up in Hawaii? The answer that loomed largest was the one nobody wanted to say aloud—someone did it on purpose.
While the rest of the team was understandably on edge, Jack and Max, both trained professionals, remained calm.
One of the key reasons humanity was able to eradicate smallpox was that the virus's double-stranded DNA structure is incredibly stable. It doesn't mutate easily, which is why vaccines work so well against it.
Even if someone had "modified" the virus and released it in Hawaii as a bioweapon, injecting it into a single host to start an outbreak would be an absurdly inefficient method.
If someone really wanted to weaponize it, Jack—who had dealt with hemorrhagic fevers, anthrax, and even tetrodotoxin—could think of dozens of delivery methods right off the top of his head: taint the water supply, contaminate food, release aerosolized virus into HVAC systems. All of them more effective and harder to detect than a solitary injection.
But preliminary tests by the CDC showed no signs that the virus had been genetically altered. The pathogen found in Brian Palmer's system was an "authentic," unmodified smallpox strain.
That was actually good news. While the virus had long been wiped out in the wild, the vaccine had never stopped being produced—thanks to certain unspoken "military concerns," the U.S. continued to vaccinate soldiers against smallpox.
Which meant even in a worst-case scenario, authorities wouldn't need to resort to drastic measures like bombing the island and blaming it on a "massive wildfire."
Even if the virus did begin to spread, the CDC could rapidly distribute stockpiled vaccines and immunize everyone on the island, keeping it under control.
Soon after, the CDC passed along a reassuring update: data collected from hospitals around the island showed no signs of unusual fever clusters. They promised to maintain ongoing monitoring.
"So that means we still have time—no immediate threat to our families," Jack said, offering a much-needed dose of reassurance.
But no matter how calm he sounded, the urgency of identifying the source remained critical. Danny quickly divided up tasks.
Max, as the team's forensic pathologist, had already sent blood and tissue samples from the body to a military-run BSL-4 lab. He would head there next to conduct more detailed analysis—his first goal was to determine whether Palmer's puncture wound was from a virus injection or possibly drug-related.
Cheng Hao went to HPD to coordinate manpower with the CDC for an island-wide search, looking for any potential secondary infections.
In Jack's previous world, Hawaii was the only U.S. state without a formal state police force. In this version of reality, "Five-O" was technically listed as a special task force under the governor, but in practice, they still operated like a fledgling state police force—similar to the Texas Rangers—and relied heavily on local law enforcement.
Kono stayed back at HQ to serve as command and comms, consolidating information coming in from all fronts.
That left Danny and Jack. The two hopped into the Camaro and headed for the Hawaii Medical Center.
Located on Oahu, this was the largest hospital in the state, consisting of a seven-story main building and two smaller satellite structures.
Brian Palmer's wife and their two children—ages three and five—were being kept in isolation in a private 40-square-meter room at the medical center.
The young boy and girl clearly didn't understand what was going on and sat quietly at a table playing with toys. Palmer's wife, who looked to be in her early thirties, broke into tears the moment she saw them.
The isolation room was outfitted like a visitation area in a prison, complete with intercoms. Danny lowered his voice so as not to startle the kids and explained their reason for coming.
Palmer's wife tried hard to compose herself as she recounted what had happened that evening.
"The doctors say we're not infected, but they still want us to stay under observation for at least a week—just to be safe.
I was scared, of course. So were the kids. But I had no idea Brian was that sick. He must've come to ask for help, and I... I left him outside."
Danny crossed his arms, his tone firm and reassuring. "Mrs. Palmer, listen to me. You made the absolutely right choice. Do you understand?
By not opening that door, you protected yourself and your children from being exposed."
After some more gentle reassurance, she finally stopped crying. Danny jumped into the next part.
"Ma'am, we need your help reconstructing Brian's whereabouts over the past few weeks."
"Um..." She looked hesitant. "I'm not sure how helpful I can be."
She glanced back at her two kids before continuing. "We've been separated. Brian moved out about three months ago. Ever since coming back from Iraq, he'd been suffering from PTSD. Things got... really bad between us. Eventually, he offered to move out—for the kids' sake."
It was a story Jack and Danny had heard far too many times. They exchanged a glance before Danny continued, "Alright, and after he moved out, where was he staying?"
"At the Wavecrest Motel." Her voice faltered a little. It was clear she still had feelings for her husband.
"He'd been doing better lately. Trying to quit drinking. Visiting the kids regularly. Even talking about getting a job. I thought... I really thought we might go back to how things used to be."
Danny sensed she had more to say but wasn't sure how to say it, so he gently prompted her, "But something changed after that?"
A puzzled look crossed her face. "Yes. About two weeks ago, he suddenly vanished. He stopped showing up to our couples therapy sessions. Turned off his phone. I thought... I thought he'd gone back to that dark place."
Danny frowned. "What do you mean by 'that dark place'?"
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