Ch.1: Epidemic of Shadows

As the sun set, I walked with a heavy heart, my mind torn between fear and hope. Walking through the school halls, things felt eerie and tense. The place was mostly filled with women and children because many young men and even some women had been drafted for the war against China. It was clear the world had changed a lot, with once-powerful states now broken and barely recognizable. I knew danger could strike at any moment. Trying to keep those thoughts at bay, I walked to my daughter's classroom.

As I went through the cafeteria by the kitchen, I noticed a woman sneezing profusely. Witnessing this made me feel very uncomfortable, putting a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach. As I walked past the cafeteria, the scene felt weird—people were eating like everything was normal, but I felt this looming fear. A strange feeling grew inside me as I moved through the unfamiliar spaces. I kept my son close, avoiding others because of this unexplained fear. I kept telling myself that it was the ongoing war that had me in this state. But honestly, I did not feel this way any other day.

The classrooms were a sad and frightening sight, with people looking sick and distressed. Kids were on the floors, puking and coughing. A heavy, anxious feeling sat in my stomach as we moved down the hallway. My son, Alex, kept asking about his sister, urging me to hurry. As we drew closer to my daughter's room nearing the next corridor, I looked and saw two girls—one sick on the floor and one checking on her. My steps quickened as I frantically drew closer. Noticing my daughter was not the one puking, a sense of relief filled me. I asked my daughter if she had eaten any of the food; she told me no and asked why. I told her I had a bad feeling about it. I told her not to eat anything, and that I would take her brother to the bathroom as he had been pestering me to take him. When we got to the bathroom, two boys were playing in the bathtub. My son went to relieve himself, and an alarm went off.

I peered out the door, and I saw military and the fire brigade telling everyone to stay where they were. The war made us all nervous, fearing an attack. I recognized Mark, my husband's friend, among them, and beckoned him to us. I asked what happened; he said they did not have much information yet and warned me not to eat the food or drink the water. As he was saying this, my son tried to wash his hands, finding out the water was cut off. I asked him to bring my daughter with haste. He left to get her as I tried to calm the two young boys down. He returned shortly with my daughter and her friend and a large duffle bag and a case of water. In the duffle bag, there were several MREs and a couple of sleeping bags. At the sight of it, I realized this was even bigger than I believed.

Mark asked if anyone we knew was sneezing a lot, and I thought briefly about the woman in the cafeteria. I told him, and he called on the radio; we found her. He asked if anyone had eaten or drunk anything from the cafeteria; we told him no. My daughter's friend, on the other hand, did. His eyes looked saddened by this fact.

Mark told me we needed to ration our supplies for a week, emphasizing how bad things were. My daughter Sarah's friend, Lily, broke out in tears, reflecting the emotional toll this crisis had on us all. Mark talked about an evacuation plan, a way to escape this nightmare. But it meant enduring a week of quarantine to see if we were sick. It was hard, but we had to face it, hoping for a way out of this mess. The school, once a place of learning and hope, was now a grim reminder of how fragile life had become. The hallways that once echoed with laughter and excitement were now filled with fear and uncertainty. An invisible enemy had us feeling a sense of dread.