As he realized what Balto had access to on the lower floors, he suddenly knew.

Balto and Jenna were running as quickly as they possibly could, heading for the front of the building.

The advance forms flung themselves forward with a yell, finally crashing through the door. They looked around…and saw the flames reach the bottle of nitroglycerin.

A tremor like an earthquake rocked the building as the whole basement was blown out, immolating all of the advance forms at the door. The floor blew straight up, a wave of flame rising up underneath it, scattering the boards. Balto picked up Jenna with his virus arms and jumped at the front wall of the building, turning his body so his back was moving toward it. They smashed through the wall, and the building blew apart with the force of a bomb and a terrific noise, every board torn from its neighbor as the entire thing was blasted into splinters by the concussion, which sent Balto and Jenna flying through the ice of a frozen pool of water. The fire quickly followed the blast, engulfing the timbers and any advance forms that remained, billowing up like a red geyser, until it finally disappeared into smoke and falling shreds of wood. The noise subsided, the only evidence left of anything having been there the charred foundations of the building. Balto and Jenna swam up to the surface of the water after the fire had passed, shivering badly, pulling each other close for warmth after they climbed out. Balto used the Ebola viruses to give himself a fever, warming himself up more quickly and passing some of that heat to Jenna. When they were warmer, they stood up and looked at the remains of the building. “Nice job, Balto,” said Jenna. “Thanks,” he replied. “I think Sorrow’s going to have a tougher time of this game now.” “Is he dead?” “I would hope so, but…I don’t know…” Then, through the flames, a tall advance form walked toward them, glaring with rage. At least, it appeared to be glaring; it was very difficult to tell with all of the skin on its face burned off, exposing muscle and cartilage, letting yellow eye lubricant drip down it face slowly. It snarled with no lips. “Sorrow…isn’t…dead,” it growled. Balto and Jenna took off running for Nome, knowing their fight was over, leaving Sorrow to survey the ruins.

Sorrow looked around, wondering how it could come to this. His face and much of his body stung nastily from dozens of lacerations, burns, and stab wounds; he knew he could regenerate the skin, but until he did, it would continue to hurt. He had many aches, which he knew would take time to repair. Yet what bothered him even more about the whole business was that Balto, in one stroke, had slain every advance form he had left. Now, he had no one left to carry out his commands.

Except one…