"You feel like-" Dave paused, and looked around, then began again in a quieter tone. "-shit, this morning?"
Pen stared at him for several seconds, because her answer was most definitely yes. And judging by the pain in his own eyes, she guessed that the reason he was asking was because he was suffering from the mystery illness as well. And the only common variables (where they had ever interacted) were today's math class - which, unless this virus was psychic, which was unlikely - and yesterday's field trip to the rock lab.
Could you catch a disease off a rock? Pen suspected that you couldn't. So what was the cause?
"Listen, we should get everyone else that was in our group yesterday after school," he asked Pen "I think that room had something in it."
He suddenly stuck his hand up and asked to go the bathroom, exiting the room sharpish, looking as though he had taken a turn for the worst; in short, looking absolutely dreadful. As sick as a dog, in fact. Pen frowned, watching him go out and caught the joker dude, Saxon, staring at her and Dave's empty seat confusedly. But he looked away quickly when Stanton swiftly admonished him for being late, etc. Pen wondered if Saxon was feeling under the weather, too.
The bell rang a couple minutes, or so, later. Dave still wasn't back - so Pen was guessing it was more than a quick toilet break. Though feeling dreadful herself, Pen began to worry. What had happened to him? And would her own fate be similar, if they had the same illness? Making a quick decision, she gathered up Dave's things and shoved them into his bag, before following the other students out the classroom. She had English next *yawn* which she wasn't particularly eager to get to, so she idled outside Dave's locker with his stuff, guessing he would return afterwards. Perhaps she could get some answers out of him; he sounded pretty certain that it had something to do with their fieldtrip group yesterday. But maybe not - she supposed that was the obvious answer.
Dr Goode was annoyed at the lack of results his investigations were yielding. He had worn down the carpet in his office from his constant pacing and now in a car with Wesley and a couple others, he was beginning to sweat. He was cruising around the neighbourhood of those kids' school, deciding to take a more active role in Pilot's mission, considering it was the only lead they had.
Pilot was communicating with them, assuring them that the virus was there. Finally, Dr Goode thought, in relief. He was beginning to wonder whether or not the virus had just spontaneously evaporated. It seemed though that one of the kids had contracted it. It wasn't ideal but the situation could have been much, much worst.
He grabbed the microphone from one of the scientists and barked direct instructions into them.
"Find out which one of them's got it. It could be a teacher, or a kid, or anyone. Use any means necessary - disguise, intimidation, whatever, I don't care - but get the job done without giving us away. Clear?"
He waited for an answer, before passing the microphone back.