CHAPTER ONE

"The coronavirus death toll steadily climbs in Italy, with 200 deaths recorded in the country today, and thousands more infected in China, Japan, and even America."

Peter stared at the tweet. There were thousands like it. And they all gave his spidey senses the faintest, yet most ominous, tingle. To say that he was concerned would be an understatement. His mind was burning with visions of Aunt May as he considered the fact that contracting the virus was almost a death sentence for anyone over 70. And poor Aunt May, she certainly fit the bracket.

In the United States, the first case of the virus was identified a month ago. Now it was February 25th. There weren't any cases in New York yet, but Peter knew it was just a matter of time before the Empire State was infested with it. It was already in Massachusetts. This virus was easy to catch, and vicious to those who were weak. It wasn't fair. But Peter knew that nothing was ever fair.

Just a few days ago, he'd visited Aunt May for Valentine's Day. He visited her fairly often, but since she was alone, he always made a special effort to visit on Valentine's Day. Besides, Peter didn't have anything better to do on that day, and he liked spending time with Aunt May. Mary Jane and he had divorced two years ago. And now, sure, Ursula still liked him, and they had a little bit of a romance, but Peter was hesitant. Not only was he Spider-Man, but he was finally working full-time for the Daily Bugle. 35 years old now, Peter also had his eye on a position as an adjunct professor at Empire State University. Maybe he could put that biophysics degree to use.

But there was time for none of that now. He needed to get Aunt May to isolate herself, and fast. Early prevention would be her best protection.

It was late, and Peter was tired, but he grabbed the keys to his scooter (he'd gotten a new, upgraded one last year) and headed straight to Aunt May's building.

Peter showed up in the middle of the night so many times over the years, but still, May expected the worst every time. "Peter, it's late. You really should be asleep," she scolded him lightly, letting him enter the warm safety of her apartment. No matter how old he was, May would always see Peter as a little boy. But now Peter's eyes were piercing. May knew that look, it was a serious expression that she knew he frequently wore under his Spider-Man mask. "Is everything alright?"

"Aunt May, you need to listen. Have you heard about the coronavirus?" Peter was all business.

"Why, yes, I hear about it on the news," she replied, trying to figure out why he would be asking.

"They're not preparing for it the way they should," he said, his voice heavy with responsibility. If the government wasn't taking precautions, Peter had to. He had to try. "It's gonna spread, and fast. Aunt May, this is going to get worse before it gets better, and I need you safe."

"Oh, Peter, I will be safe," she assured him. She didn't want him to worry about her! She could certainly handle herself. "I always wash my hands after I go out anywhere."

"I know, and that's really good, but it's not going to be enough." He could take no chances. Looking past Aunt May, her kitchen caught Peter's attention as an idea was brewing in his mind. He strode into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, taking stock of her pantry and refrigerator and freezer. It wasn't bad. It looked like enough for a few days. Peter made mental notes of Aunt May's favorite brands. She wasn't hard to please.

May was still trying to figure out what Peter was getting at. He was acting on his one-track mind, and he was unstoppable. "If you're hungry you can help yourself to something, but you really shouldn't be eating past ten," she reminded him. Peter had gained a little weight lately and she was just trying to help him keep his Spider-Man figure. Busting seams in his costume wasn't Peter's favorite thing to deal with.

"You have enough food for a couple of days, that's good." Peter didn't acknowledge what she'd said. He wasn't looking for food for himself. He stood and joined her again in the living room area. "I'm going to be shopping for you from now on."

"Oh, Peter," she scoffed lightly. "I can shop for myself! Don't you worry your head about it."

His blue eyes were like daggers. He was so serious. "Aunt May, I need you to stay here. You can't go out anymore. New York doesn't have any confirmed cases yet, but that's only because people aren't being checked." His voice held a powerful anger. He was disappointed. Not at her, she knew. Not at anyone in particular. But this was heavy.

"But- my knitting circle meets every Tuesday, and Bible study meets on Fridays-" May protested, her soulful eyes searching her nephew's face for any sign of allowance.

Peter felt bad. It was never his intention to make her sad or make her feel like a caged bird. "I'm sorry Aunt May," he said, touching her shoulder. "It's going to get bad out there. You'll only miss one or two meetings before they'll have to cancel it. I promise. I just need you safe." Older people had a far smaller chance of surviving infection. He didn't want to say it to her face, he couldn't. He hoped she knew it and understood it. "Please. I need you."

May found herself struggling for words, her mouth agape as she tried to think of something, anything, that could change Peter's mind. Nothing came.

"Alright, Peter. I'll listen. You'll visit me, won't you? And call me?"

It was if a weight had lifted off of Peter's shoulders. She was going to listen to him, and he could relax. 'At least one person is safe,' he thought to himself. That warm, familiar, nephewly smile returned to Peter's face. "Of course I will. I'm buying your groceries, aren't I? And anything else you need, you just let me know. Okay?"

May nodded. After making him promise to get home safely, she walked him to the door and bid him goodnight. And Peter went home.