Love's Subtle Gift

Allison peered through the microscope at the reaction between her latest, and final, attempt to create a defense against the Satan Virus. Slowly, the virus attacked the antibodies in her serum - tearing them into fragments and destroying them. Alone there in her lab she felt the heavy hand of failure casually and callously brush aside the fate of the entire human race. She was the last surviving researcher ... her lab the final place where an antidote might be produced. There were no more samples available. Everyone else who might have made a difference was already dead. Only the extreme isolation and precautions she had taken had kept her safe to fight on as billions across the World had so rapidly succumbed. So this was it, then. There would be no cure, no vaccine ... and probably, no human race. Where there had been, just moments before, a tiny shred of hope there was now only an empty coldness.

As she drew back from the microscope she felt the cool metal of the small golden heart locket around her neck touch the skin over her heart. Her fingers sought it out and opened it, revealing the tiny image on one side and a tiny swirl of silvery white and grey hair in the other. It had been just three days since that kindly and courageous woman had plucked that same small tuft of her own hair, carefully wedged it into the empty side and passed the locket through the isolation port with the words, "Don't forget me". She remembered thinking that her grandmother had seemed tired - so very tired. For days on end the older woman had labored on the other side of the sterile barrier to care for others who suffered so horribly and who died despite her every effort. They had smiled at each other and waved and hurried back to their desparate labors. And then in the morning she had learned that her grandmother was gone, silently, in her sleep and would join the endless stream of ashes. They would be together again soon, she thought. Along with everyone else.

Silently, she gazed at the kindly and loving face, remembering how it was to actually be by her side ... to actually touch and embrace her. The little clump of hair curled hurriedly into the opposite side of the locket had been a living part of her and was now held in place against the metal of the locket by the shreds of skin that had come along with the hair when her grandmother had so impetuously snatched it out. The sudden violence of it had even caused the site to bleed a little, and there were still some traces of blood on the still gooey follicles. Time seemed to stand still. She was so grateful her grandmother had not suffered. She breathed out a long sigh and began to close the locket ... and then … stopped. She looked back at the hair and the follicles and the small residue of blood. Her grandmother had never gotten sick from the virus ... or even very often sick from anything. Was it possible she had been immune?

Trembling a little, Allison carefully removed a few strands of the hair and began the process of preparing a test serum using the blood and cells from her grandmother's precious lock of hair - her final gift of love. Soon, it was ready. Hardly daring to hope or believe that this so unlikely coincidence could make any difference at all she began a new test against the virus.

Allison peered through the microscope at the reaction. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then slowly, very slowly, the antibodies in her serum began tearing the virus into fragments and destroying it.