Christy and Al

Christy danced and spun in the flashing strobe lights, her silver dress flaring when she spun and shining when the light hit her. She kept her smile light and her eyes open for anyone else in the club that was looking for someone. Not anyone in particular, but someone to not be alone with. Most of the men in the club would fall into that category, the trick was to distinguish which ones were trustworthy. Which ones were safe.

One man had been watching her dance for a while now, and she had been watching him. He had dark hair and tan skin, though it was probably just naturally brown, since his features looked Arabic. His face was handsome and his clothes looked expensive. Her instincts told her that he was exactly what she'd been looking for. He was lonely and looking for someone to help dispell those feeling, just like her. She smiled at him, inviting him to make a move. He returned the smile, looking almost shy, and she knew her instincts were good. He was safe. When he didn't immediately come over to her, she spun and danced away from him for a moment. She spun again, a silver flurry of motion, and saw him making his way through the mass of people toward her. She grinned at him and danced happily. His smile widened and he reached her side quickly.

He was about half a foot taller than her small 5'3 frame, and she looked up at him, enjoying the height difference. He leaned down and pressed his face close to her ear. "Do you want to come upstairs?" He had to yell to be heard over the pounding music. Christy smiled and nodded. He took hold of her hand and began to weave a path through the dancing mass of people. She stuck close to him, enjoying the comfort of holding someone's hand. He led her up a flight of stairs to the VIP balcony area. He greeted the bouncer by name and they were allowed to pass. Christy's face was alight with excitement, she'd never been in the VIP section of this club before. The man holding her hand led her to a leather L-shaped sofa. He let go of her hand then and settled back into the sofa, reclining with one arm behind his head. Christy sat down on the sofa next to him and crossed her legs. The man smiled at her and then looked away, seeing a waiter. He ordered an expensive sounding drink.

When the waiter left, he turned back to look at her. "So what's your name?"

Christy smiled. That was another good sign. "Christy."

"That's a cute name." He smiled again. "I'm Al."

Jane Smarts

Jane watched the television with scrutinizing eyes, listening to the American reporter. "The first official cases of the European Flu have been reported in Washington and Tokyo today, only 3 days after Britain declared it to be an epidemic. There are no reports of anything being done to contain the spread." Jane swore and turned off the tv.

Mark cleared his throat from behind her and gave her a worried look. He looked hesitant to tell her the news. "We're getting reports of localized power outages, and the transportation systems are at a virtual standstill. It's the same all over the country."

"Well, what are we doing? No matter how bad this flu is, the people don't expect the nation to collapse!" Jane felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her feet. Her job wasn't even reporting the news to the people anymore. It was telling the people lie upon lie to 'control the panic'.

"No contignency plans accounted for the virus spreading so quickly."

"We have to isolate people with the virus. Quarantine them if necessary." Jane tried to get her head back on straight and started pacing.

"It's already too late for that."

Jane gave Mark a look of shock. "What do you mean?"

Mark swallowed. "Virtually the entire population has already been exposed. The virus is much more aggressive than early tests indicated. By the time the symptoms have begun to show, the body's immune system has already been severely compromised."

"Compromised?"

"It goes into meltdown. In effect: the body is attacking itself."

Tom Price

No sooner had Tom finally fallen asleep, but he awoke to someone roughly shoving him in the chest. Tom was awake immediately and had thrown Lane to the ground, holding the younger man's arm at a painful angle. When Tom saw Lane's sweat-covered face and feverish eyes, he let go of Lane's arm and lay back down on his cot. "You stay away from me." He warned.

Lane staggered and fell back on his cot. "Help me..."

Tom sighed and got up to pound on the door again. "I need someone in here! Now!" He heard nothing. No one was coming. Maybe no one was left. Tom looked back at Lane, who lay back on his cot, his face frightened and pale. "You stop staring at me." Tom glared at him. He turned back toward the door. "There's nothing I can do." Lane took one shuddering gasp and then began to scream, clutching his head. Tom pounded on the door.

Abby and Carl Grant

"What...what's going on? Where are we?" Abby hung from her husband's arms, so weak she couldn't stand and so delirious that Carl wasn't sure she could even try.

"We're home. Come on, now. Almost there." Carl spoke soothingly to his wife, trying to calm his own fears. He carried his wife up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Where's Peter?" This time Abby sounded almost firm, awake, in her question. But Carl knew that Abby was so far gone, she probably didn't even realize she was speaking anymore.

When they reached the bedroom, the lights flickered out. "Must be a power outage." Carl said to himself. He laid his wife down in their bed and went in search of candles. He found some in a bathroom cabinet and lit them in the bedroom.

"Carl..." Abby's voice was so quiet. "Carl, I've got this lump under my arm... It hurts..." Carl grabbed a phone and tried the number for the hospital. Busy... He called again. Still busy... Carl threw the phone across the room and held his head, trying to figure out how to help his wife. He decided he would just have to drive his wife to the hospital. Abby had other plans. She curled up into a ball next to him and moaned quietly.

"Come on, we need to get you to the doctor." Carl gently tried to get her up again.

She pushed away his hands weakly. "No, no, please... I just need to sleep, is all. I just need to sleep." Abby moaned and pulled away from him.

"Okay, shh...shh... You just rest." Carl held his wife and slowly rocked her back and forth.

Martha Smith

Martha had been watching her roommate Linda get more and more sick for the past two days. The first day Linda had just been a little run down, so she stayed in bed and drank plenty of water, like all the newscastors had recommended. By the end of the second day, Linda was beginning to have alternating shivers and sweats. It was no use to try and call a doctor, the phone would just ring and ring and then get a busy signal. Even Martha's close friend Anya, who was a doctor at the local hospital, couldn't take any time off to make a house call. Martha suspected she wouldn't come because she didn't want to see her friend looking so ill. Martha's forced calm exterior finally snapped when the power went out. The lights and the television dying in front of her and Linda, who lay on the couch, was the last straw. That tv was her last connection to the outside world. The Internet was down and the phones were tied, so the newcastors had been Martha's only company other than her ill roommate for the past two days. "Okay, let's go. Come on. I'm getting you to the hospital." Martha helped her less-than-enthusiastic friend to her feet. The trip to the hospital she had been putting off could not be ignored any longer.

Neither Martha or Linda had a working car; Martha's car had broken down a few weeks ago so they had been relying on the city's metro rail system to get to the places they needed to go. Luckily, the nearest entrance was only a few blocks away from their apartment. Martha was not prepared for the chaos of the streets. She and Linda had been stuck up in their apartment for days, so the reality they now faced seemed surreal. People were still driving about, even though the traffic lights no longer operated. The two woman passed more than one accident scene where two or more drivers had simply plowed into one another. Angry drivers yelled at eachother while trying to navigate the blocked roads. There were a lot of people running, jostling into Martha and Linda. Martha steadied her friend and gave the crowd a few choice words. By the time they reached the entrance to the metro rail Martha and Linda were bruised and exhausted. Linda could barely keep upright anymore so Martha swung her friend's arm over her shoulder and carried her weight as best as she could.

Martha's spirits sank as she read the flashing letters above the entrance, "Metro Rail Suspended". Linda began to cry and Martha struggled to keep her emotions in check. She considered their options. They could struggle back to their apartment and sit in the dark, hoping things would get better. Martha was not fond of that option. The hospital where Anya worked was only 10, maybe 12 blocks away. It wasn't too far to walk, Martha figured. Listening to her friend sob, Martha couldn't stand the idea of spending another night stuck in their dark apartment. "Lin, we're going to walk a bit more, okay?" Martha squeezed her friend's waist firmly.

"I'm so hot, Martha... I just want to lay down..." Linda's voice scared Martha, she sounded so tired and frightened, so unlike herself.

"We're going to find Anya. She'll know what to do." They reached the hospital an hour later, Martha carried most of Linda's weight by now, her friend was struggling to keep conscious. The lobby of the hospital was terrifying; there were people taking up every spare inch of floor space available, woman holding sobbing children, men yelling at nurses who looked strained and ill themselves. The sight of some people just laying, no longer crying for help nearly pushed Martha over the edge.

Martha found a spot against the wall for Linda to lean on and pushed her way to the front of the mob surrounding the nurse's station. "Excuse me! Please! Can you page Dr. Anya Razinski?" Martha shouted to be heard over the crowd. The one nurse behind the counter gave her a passing glance and told her to "please sit down, someone will see to you in a moment." Martha was shoved to the floor then by a large frantic man. Martha got back up, seeing red, and pushed the man aside. He barely seemed to see her, running back to a woman sitting on one of the chairs. Martha felt sympathy than, seeing him stroke the woman's face. She turned back to the nurse. "Please, tell her it's Martha!" The nurse gave no sign she heard her over other people's shouts. Martha saw an opening and reached for the phone, she pressed the page button and shouted into the phone, "Anya Razinski, please come to reception immediately! Plea-!" The nurse snatched the phone away from her and Martha let it go.

Martha returned to her friend and sat by her knees, waiting for Anya to come and find them. A television mounted on the ceiling across the room showed a press meeting with Jane Smarts and a few other men that Martha couldn't rememer seeing before. She tried to pick out what they were saying. "...believe that the response is going well. Vaccines are being distributed, and the Department of Health has opened up a record number of hospital room." Jane Smarts' familiar steady voice did little to calm Martha's nerves.

"How can you say that when you know that hospitals are closing their doors to new patients?" A male reporter asked.

The camera cut to a close up of Jane Smarts' face. She looked tired up close, worn down, flustered. "Nobody..." Jane paused for a beat, clearly searching for words. "...denies the seriousness of the situation. But we are confident we are handling it well." Martha looked around the room at all the people, many looking close to death. Pale and slick with sweat, eyes closed. How was this being handled at all?

Jane Smarts

"It's true, isn't it? The government has lost control." This comment came from the same reporter as before.

Jane couldn't help but think, When were we ever in control of this thing? Out loud she said, "We're a very long way from that happening." She stressed the words very and long. Jane didn't know how much more of this she could take. Lying to the media, and telling half-truths. Giving distracting but uplifting little comments whenever asked a difficult question. Jane just wanted to go home and be with her family.

Anya Razinski

Dr. Anya Razinski had never worked so hard or for so long in her entire career of being a doctor. The last few days had been filled with chaos and sleepless nights. Being only 26, she had more stamina and more resistance to the flu than some of the older doctors in the hospital, so she was one of only 3 doctors who hadn't fallen ill. Anya had been screening the calls made to her cell phone for the last two days. There wasn't any time to talk and there was no doctoring that she could give over the phone that hadn't already been recommended by specialists on the news channels.

And her last call she answered was from her parents. Her mother had died during the first night of the Crisis, having already been weak from the chemo she had been undergoing. Anya's father had called to let her know and to say goodbye, that he was already feeling the effects of the flu. Anya hadn't been able to cry, the numbness covered her in a thin veil of protection from the horror she was surrounded by.

There were numerous calls and voicemails from her roommates Martha and Linda, each one sounding more frantic than the last. Anya had called them back once, three days ago, to reassure them that the Crisis would not last long, that things would soon be back to normal. But things had only gotten worse. No one who contracted the infection had survived longer than a few days. The fever at the end always burned the patient out.

"Anya Razinski, please come to reception immediately!" Anya recognized Martha's voice with shock. She made her way to reception and found Martha sitting beside Linda, who was pale and unconscious.

Martha bolted upright and pulled Anya into a desperate hug. "I didn't know what else to do!" Anya hugged her friend weakly and then pulled away to look over Linda. Anya's heart sank, Linda was clearly in the last stages. She had an hour, maybe two. Anya turned back to Martha, whose face had lit up with hope and trust.

Anya's face was grim. "Come with me." Martha helped Anya lift Linda and the two woman carried their friend to the lift. The hospital was running on several back-up generators. Anya pushed the button for the basement and then entered the code to take them down. All of the top 3 floors had long since been filled, doubling and tripling. Any new patients admitted were being taken to the basement, which had been curtained off and turned into a mass patient room. "In here." Anya led them to an empty curtained bed and she and Martha laid Linda onto it. Linda's breathing became shallow and quick. "Give me a minute with her?" Martha nodded and left quickly. Anya pulled a sheet over her friend's shivering body and kissed her forehead. "Everything's going to be okay, Lin" She lied.

Al and Christy

Al's apartment had an amazing view of the city. The lights from the buildings below gave the city a glow that seemed almost magical. Christy sipped from her glass, feeling the cold liquid run down her throat. Christy put the glass to her forehead and closed her eyes. Coming to his apartment really hadn't been her idea originally, she just wanted to find someone nice and dance with him for a while. She and Al got to talking, though, and eventually he had asked if she wanted to go somewhere quieter. The loud music had started to give her head painful twinges, so she had agreed immediately.

Christy opened her eyes and saw Al come up behind her from the reflection in the glass. She turned around to face him. "Not bad." She told him quietly, smiling. He smiled back easily, standing close beside her. A song started to play, filling the large apartment with soft comtempory music. Christy smiled, the song was a favorite of hers.

Al brushed a hand across her forehead. "You're dripping."

"Yes, the dancing. I need a shower." She said running a hand through hr short dark brown hair.

Al nodded toward an open door. "Through there."

Christy smiled and set her glass on the coffee table in front of the large leather couch. "So you must be pretty rich."

Al picked up her empty glass and brought it across the room to the kitchen. "Oh, you know, not compared to some. You should see my uncle's place in New York." He gave her a grin. Christy slowly walked toward the kitchen, enjoying the feel of the plush rug against her bare toes.

She reached up and touched his face. "What are you? Saudi?"

"My dad is. Mum's English." Al filled both of their glasses with more of the cool amber liquid. Christy took in his rich dark brown hair and milk chocolate skin. The bone structure in his face was unique, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, thin lips, and straight white teeth.

"An interesting blend." She smirked. "Al doesn't sound like an Arab name."

"It's short for Allim, actually." He handed her a glass. "Al is easier." Christy looked up into his light brown, almost gold, eyes and ignored the extended glass. She turned and headed toward the shower instead, giving him one last smile as she entered the bathroom. Al sighed and took a drink. He heard the shower start and resigned himself to laying back on his couch and watching tv until she got out. He flipped through channel after channel, the only thing playing seemed to be news so he put in a dvd instead.

Martha and Anya

Martha waited outside the curtained off area, listening to her friend's shallow breathing. Martha just wanted to curl up and fall asleep, she was so tired. A few rows down, Martha saw two men go into a curtained room and wheel out a sheet-covered body. She got up and followed the men. They wheeled the body to a door and opened it to a dark room. The lighting was dim, but Martha thought the room seemed full. The men exited the room a minute late, the bed was empty. Martha waited until they were out of sight around a corner and she opened the door. She stared in horror at the rows of motionless white sheets. Martha was twisted around suddenly. She gave a cry of surprise.

Anya's face was hard. "You shouldn't go in there."

Martha pulled away from Anya. "How many?" Anya didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened and closed. "Anya! How many people have died from this?" Her friend questioned, her tone of voice turning frantic.

"It's everyone." Martha reeled back like Anya had slapped her. "Everyone who's come down with it has died." Now that she'd opened her mouth, Anya could hardly stop. "The virus... It causes our bodies immune systems to turn against ourselves. It rips our natural defenses to shreds." Anya's voice shook. "Some people last longer than others, some people die within hours of showing systems. The end is always the same though. They always die." Anya could feel the familiar choke in her throat.

"What about the shots? I saw it on the news, people were getting vaccinated!" Martha sounded hysterical.

"Useless fiction." Anya's face hardened. "It takes months to create an effective vaccine. We've had days."

"Lin?" Martha held onto her last ounce of hope.

"I can't help her."

Jane Smarts

"Is there a vaccine?" The reporters were starting to ask all the right questions. The ones that had no easy answers.

"Our immediate hope lies in prevention." Jane said, her voice exposing to the public that even she was beginning to give up. "My advice to the public is to stay home and avoid contact with eachother as much as possible."

"We are getting credible reports that people are dying." Came a male voice from the back of the room.

"I think we need to treat Internet speculation with a degree of suspicion." The office crowd had gotten smaller and smaller as her co-workers came down with it one by one. She hoped to God that they were all quickly recovering.

"Is it true that the Prime Minister himself is ill?" A young blonde reporter in the front asked.

Jane Smarts was informed the day before last that this was true. "I briefed him just a few hours ago. He was fine." She lied.

"Then why won't he speak with us?" "He is busy coordinating the government response. I'm sure you wouldn't expect anything less." The lies came quick and easy off her tongue. Jane felt sick. People were dying, there was no vaccine, and worse, they had no idea how this virus came to be and how it spread so quickly.

Al and Christy

Al quickly got bored with the movie, he'd seen it twice before. He muted the sound and pulled his slim cell phone out of his pocket. There were no missed calls, no new texts or voicemails. Strange. Al scrolled through his contact list and called one of his mates. The phone rang for over a minute, not even connecting with a voicemail. Al scowled and disconnected, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him. He could hear Christy singing to herself over the sound of the shower. She had a clear, sweet voice that made him smile. Al picked his phone back up and played Tetris until he heard the shower stop. He turned and saw Christy walk out of the bathroom wearing one of his plush robes. She had a towel in her hand and she rubbed it though her short dark hair. Christy sat down next on the couch and then leaned against him.

Al moved slightly to get comfortable. "Feeling better?"

"Much." Christy smiled up at him. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her eyes looked tired. Al considered making a move, but then decided against it when she turned away and they watched the muted movie in silence. After the movie ended, Al craned his neck to look at her face. She had fallen asleep, her breathing was slow and steady. She looked so peaceful Al was almost jealous. Al sighed, feeling only a little disappointed. He put his arms under her body and stood up with her in his arms. He carried her to his bedroom and laid her gently onto his bed. Christy mumbled something he couldn't understand and Al covered her with one of his goose feather comforters.