REMNANTS | JIKOOK ✔

Chapter 12. Cure

“Fuck!” 

Jungkook slammed his fist down on the console beside the comm-system as static crackled back at him again, signalling a lack of connection.

Hoseok swore loudly. “What’s the point in a comm-system that shoots nothing but static?”

Sighing, Jungkook sat back in his seat, pushing it away from the desk that held the unit and put his hands behind his head, pulling at his hair in frustration. He could clearly picture the decrepit comm station Jimin had fixed a few days before. How long had the generator stayed operational before it died again?

“We’ve got no way to even know if they’ve picked up the message on their end,” he said. “We might be alone out here.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I think we’d better start looking at other options.”

Jungkook looked up. Hoseok was leaning against the desk closest to his, his arms folded against his chest, face cold.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked.

Hoseok eyed him. “You know what I mean. That danachi.”

Jungkook made a sound of protest but before he could speak Hoseok continued, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Look!” he snapped. “It’s obvious we’re not going to get any support from headquarters. Maybe it’s time to make use of the resources we have on the base to combat this!”

Jungkook shook his head. “I don’t think—I don’t think Jimin can—”

Hoseok’s mouth curled up on one side.

Yoongi walked up next to the two of them who, with no one knowing, was listening in on the conversation, “Jimin?” he repeated.

Jungkook felt his face heating up and he shifted away immediately, looking back at the contact screen that still showed grey static. “Uh—”

The sound of the doors swinging open offered him a reprieve and Jungkook turned again, swinging around in his chair to see Namjoon entering.

“We’ve got a problem,” the medic said bluntly.

“Another one?” Jungkook groaned. “Please tell me it’s that we’ve run out of fuel or food, or something? I think I can handle that today.”

Namjoon didn’t blink an eye. “It’s spread,” he said, flatly. “Another two are in quarantine in the hospital.”

“Two?” Hoseok spat.

“Shit,” Jungkook breathed.

Namjoon stepped forward, leaning over the central table in the room and putting both hands down onto it. His face was pale and his skin was slicked, greasy with sweat. He appeared to be panting slightly.

“I’m fairly confident we can contain it,” he said. 

Suddenly Namjoon gasped, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and he winced, hunching over the table a little. His finger tips squeaked against the glass surface, sliding a short, sharp trail of sweat as he let out a grunt of pain.

Alarmed, Jungkook sat up a little. “Namjoon?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

The medic seemed to shudder a little, his shoulders shaking, arms tense, then he relaxed, exhaling. Lifting his head he shook it a little. “I’m fine.” With visible effort, he straightened.

“Look,” he said. “If we get them evacuated in the next twelve hours, and keep everyone under steralization orders, it should be controlled enough.”