He remains completely out of place. From inside, a mother's cheerful voice rises: "Children! Breakfast is ready!" Jack slows down and involuntarily listens. The woman continues: "Come on, I've made your favorites!" After a short pause, she cheerfully adds: "There are pancakes!" Immediately afterwards, the sounds of children running around and a small, innocent giggle are heard from inside. Jack remains frozen in place. A strange expression appears on his face. On one side, that silent, terrified family from moments before; on the other, this house acting as if nothing is happening outside the door... Jack starts walking again, but this time his steps are much heavier than before.
As Jack walks away from the house where the cheerful sounds of breakfast were coming from, the sounds behind him suddenly cease. Completely. Absolute silence falls in that direction. Then... a very faint, indistinct noise is heard. Jack doesn't stop, he doesn't look back. He just continues walking; his steps take him away from this strange unease. When he arrives in front of the police station, an unusual sight greets him. The usual chaotic crowd, so dense you couldn't drop a pin, has given way to an eerie order. Police cars are lined up neatly, people are scattered here and there, but no one is talking. Jack walks in. Phones are ringing, crackling announcements blare from the radios; everything seems "normal" on paper. But Jack senses the reality. The police are on duty, but their eyes constantly dart to places, windows, doors. One officer's hand trembles slightly as he takes his coffee; another obsessively checks outside the window. No one is panicking, but everyone is making a superhuman effort not to panic. Jack walks slowly through this collective fear. He knocks on the door of the chief's office. Bob's deep voice is heard from inside: "Come in." When Jack enters, he finds Bob at his desk; it is piled high with files and complex maps. Jack sits opposite him and gets straight to the point: "You called me. What's going on?" Bob is silent for a while, as if choosing his words. Then he takes a file from his drawer and places it on the table. He pulls out a photograph and pushes it towards Jack. The man in the photo is bald, with a light beard and a deadly intensity in his gaze. Bob begins to explain: “The man’s name isn’t important. What he did is important. Murder, smuggling, armed assault…the list is long.” Jack lifts his eyes from the photograph and looks at Bob: “So?”
Bob takes a deep breath, the weight in his voice filling the room: “He escaped three days ago.” A short, tense silence falls in the room. Jack asks curiously: “Where?” Bob locks his eyes with Jack’s: “…In the quarantine zone.”
Jack’s face suddenly falls, his expression hardens: “You’re kidding.” Bob doesn’t break his seriousness: “I wish.” He gets up and walks to the map on the wall. New York and its surroundings are marked like a bloody stain. “It’s forbidden to go in there. You know,” Bob says. Jack doesn’t move, he just continues to listen. Bob lowered his voice slightly and got to the point: “But… we’re looking for someone who can get in with special permission.” Jack shook his head slightly, understanding the implication: “No.” Bob didn’t react; he’d expected this refusal. Bob returned to the table: “Thousands of dollars. Clean money. Not official.” The silence tightened in the room. Bob saved the final blow: “Also… your family. I can get them to a safe area.” This promise hung in the air. A heavy internal conflict began on Jack’s face; on one hand, the world he knew, on the other, Aleksa’s safety. Jack stood up, as if wanting to escape: “…I need to think about it.” Bob nodded: “You don’t have much time.” Jack headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, Bob’s voice stopped him: “Jack.” Jack stopped but didn’t turn around. Bob quietly added: “Nobody knows what’s going on in there. And if this man… is surviving among those things… there’s nothing more dangerous than him.” Jack left the room without saying anything.