Chapter 3
November 14, 2011
Things had gotten bad. They were calling it The Epidemic. At night Angela and Isabella would sit on the old, lumpy sofa completely engrossed in CNN. The reporters said it would pass, just like the Bird flu and H1N1, but they had been so wrong. It had started in a small town in Georgia named Bloomingdale for its picturesque view and quaint town life. They had been famous for their sweet Georgia peaches, ripe from sunlight and the impossibly sweet Vidalia onions. It had started ten months ago on November 12, 2011. On the day it began, a man fell ill, Joshua Macqueen. He had stumbled home, sweating and delirious from fever. Doctors said he had a bad case of the flu; he had all the symptoms vomiting, fever, and sore throat. They figured they had it under control until the whole household fell ill. In a week the whole family was dead.
"Researchers say that an exotic bacterium was spread from the family's vacation home in Central America. Most likely it was picked up from unclean water or undercooked meat and is now being contained. Bloomingdale has been quarantined until farther notice. All can rest easy tonight," the broadcaster said, easing the worries of thousands of people. Charlie came in, nursing a beer and turned off the television.
"No need to worry yourself for nothing, girls," he had said. "I brought pizza." The girls had rushed into the kitchen momentarily forgetting the strange occurrence as they drowned their sorrows in warm, gooey cheese and fizzy grape soda.
It was hard to ignore the rapid transgression of events. Five more had died, than ten, then the next day, thirty. After a week two hundred and fifty were dead. Uneasiness grew in Forks; people kept their children home from school and didn't leave their houses. Another week had passed and everyone in Bloomingdale was gone, killed by the phantom bacteria. There were no more deaths reported for a while; people pretended that Bloomingdale had never existed. Where it once was, was now an empty shell surrounded by road blocks and abandoned and pilfered houses. Classes resumed and life returned to normal but tension was still in the air. One evening, a few weeks later Angela came running up to Isabella's room, urging and pulling her sister down the flight of stairs.
"Look Belly, it came back," Angela had cried, clutching at her arm, almost piercing the skin with her fingernails. It was CNN again, the same woman newscaster in her designer suit. Isabella sat and quickly turned up the volume.
"Today in Baton Rouge, Louisiana disaster struck. A woman came into the hospital with the same symptoms as Joshua Macqueen, from almost two months ago. Now deceased, Mary Gregory had what doctors believe is the next widespread disease. The Epidemic is being contained and as we speak the very best are working on finding a vaccination, to prevent farther contamination. They have no leads so far. We will be standing by." A commercial began and she quickly muted the television.
"Don't worry Angie, they have everything under control. Let's go get ice cream at Freezy's. I know it's your favorite," Isabella said with false cheer in her voice. She tried to keep Angela as oblivious to the upcoming disaster as she could. Isabella kept her away from the television tempting her with trips to the park to play on the swings or to the dollar store, where she would pick out new sparkly nail polish. Isabella only watched the news late at night when everyone else was asleep. Her heart would pound as she savagely chewed her fingernails down to the quick, watching the list of the deceased from that day. Every day it got longer and longer, until almost everyone in Louisiana was dead. Charlie didn't seem worried so Isabella knew that she shouldn't be either, at least not yet.