After the red flag went up, the first order was that no one could leave the camp.
The second order, however, was slow to arrive.
Those who closed the road did not explain where food would come from, who would replenish the medicine, or when the risk would be reassessed.
The seven patients were gathered in the Empty Wagon Shed downwind.
All of them had fevers and were vomiting. Two had numb hands and feet, and the most seriously ill could no longer speak in complete sentences.
The Medical Ninjas had yet to confirm the cause.
If this was an acute illness that could spread through contact or the air, allowing the convoy to keep moving could endanger every settlement along its route.
There were grounds for restricting passage first.
But a Western Border Guard entered the camp carrying red paint, intending to put the same mark on every wagon and everyone's sleeve.
Ling blocked his way in front of the first wagon.
"There are only seven patients."
"You've traveled together. All of you may have been exposed."
"Once you've painted it on, when can we wash it off?"
The guard did not answer.
That red paint was not a medical record.
It would lead every subsequent checkpoint to treat more than two hundred people as a moving source of infection without examining them.
Gen told the guard to put down the paint bucket.
The Medical Team had to determine the scope of exposure based on timing and behavior. Statelessness could not stand in for that assessment.
The camp was then divided into four zones.
Only designated medical personnel could enter the Patient Zone.
Those who had eaten and lived with the patients entered the Observation Zone.
People who had no direct contact remained in the General Camp Zone.
Supplies