XAVIER: I hate that.

FRANCISCO: You and me both, bro.

XAVIER: Can’t you do something about it?

FRANCISCO: I’m trying. But it’s not like hospital boards frequently listen to interns. They say it’s not currently a priority.

FRANCISCO: I can’t imagine what it’ll be like here when the staff gets infected. When we have to start turning people away. I swore an oath when I started med school.

XAVIER: Are you at work now?

FRANCISCO: I’m on break, but yes. It’s resident hours for the interns too, so we can have as many beds available as possible.

XAVIER: Well, we’ll have beds available here soon enough.

[silence]

FRANCISCO: Xavi? What do you mean?

XAVIER: The guards left when everything locked down. So some of the others are planning on leaving too.

FRANCISCO: Left you? As in, they left you unattended? That’s wildly irresponsible.

XAVIER: Looks like we’re not currently a priority either.

FRANCISCO: [muffled] …be right there. Give me a minute.

FRANCISCO: Fuck, one of the attendings needs me. I’ve got to go, but I’ll look into it during my next break, I promise. Be safe out there, please? I need to know that you’re safe. I love you.

This phone call has been disconnected.

Phone call between Elias and his uncle

MR. THOMPSON: What do you want?

ELIAS: We…um, we heard about that plague thing here. It’s—I wanted to know how you are—how are you all doing? You and Aunt Vera and Hazel.

MR. THOMPSON: Hmph. Buying into that nonsense that we’re all doomed, are you? I thought they taught you there better than to believe in ghost stories. If it isn’t big pharma wanting to profit off us, it’s the government trying to keep us fearful and docile. It won’t work on me.

ELIAS: The news we’re getting—

MR. THOMPSON: Overblown, all of it. It’s a bad flu season, nothing more. Everyone gets sick in winter, right?

ELIAS: But—

MR. THOMPSON: What a time for you to start caring about family anyway. Couldn’t have thought about that before you got yourself in this mess? Could’ve taken care of your mother when she was ill. Could’ve gotten a real job. Could’ve been at the funeral like a caring son.

ELIAS: Uncle—

This phone call has been disconnected.

ELIAS: I just wanted to know you’re all right.

Eleven

Emerson

This is what the plague looks like.

It’s not illness, at first. It’s fear. The type of fear that nags at the back of your thoughts, that crawls like a parasite under your skin. It’s like every bruise that brushes against my clothes.

This is the fear I felt after my parents kicked me out. The difference between living in a well-lit home with food on the table, pictures to remind you of where you belong, and caring words—and the coldness of night, where every shadowed corner may be dangerous. The fear of not knowing how to survive.

It’s the type of fear that claws at your chest and makes it hard to breathe.