There were seventeen arrests and, finally, one casualty in the first seven days of transition from being an open city to a closed one. The message that people trying to leave without permission would be shot was received, and a new energy set over the city: quiet, but rebellious in it.

On WDET, someone said that there would be a system soon for letting people who were well leave. Those who were left were Black and Brown, elderly or taking care of the elderly, homeless and mostly poor. And each day, they were succumbing to this wild and blameless sickness that looked just like grief.

The radio was on when Dune entered the room.

Had Mama Vivian turned it on? If so, it was a small miracle, it meant the old woman had reached over and done something, wanted something. It was a sign of life.

If she hadn’t— Dune couldn’t quite explain it. And the list of things she couldn’t quite explain kept growing. Mama Vivian was the only other person in the house with her, but sometimes the walls felt full.

Dune moved in the small room, gathering glasses crusted with orange pulp, dishes of pureed food that had only given a spoon or two of sustenance to Mama Vivian before she shut her mouth. Dune dusted the surfaces, swept the floor and then helped Mama Vivian migrate to the chair so Dune could change the sheets. Her grandmother smelled of baby powder and urine. While she worked, they listened.

“I don’t think it is fair to classify this as a racialized plague, Pat...it is completely unclear at this point if the disease targets African Americans. The city was seventy-six percent African American. Of course the bulk of cases we are seeing reflect the population of the city. Conspiracy theories aren’t going to help.”

“That is fine for you to say Rick, you aren’t Black.” Chuckling. “For those of us who are, it is just incredibly suspicious. There are no documented cases of H-8 for people who don’t have some African lineage, even if it’s in the octoroon realm. In the wake of the largest and most impactful protests in the US since the civil rights era, fomented by Black people, we impeach and unseat a race-baiting president, and then we’ve had the armed attacks, the bombings of Black churches, it’s been building into a race war. And then a mysterious syndrome shows up and starts erasing our Black city of the north? Thinking everything is a coincidence is a privilege.”

Dune appreciated the conspiracy theories as much as anything else. All this not knowing was demoralizing. She wanted someone to blame, even if she couldn’t generate energy behind it.