Autumn in the City of Angels Read Free

back to the hotel.  I’m awfully tired, and I’ve got a headache, so I’m just going to hit the hay when I get there.  I hope you both had amazingly wonderful days and aren’t sitting around moping because you miss me so much.”  I could hear her smiling as she said this.  “We’ll catch up tomorrow night.  Autumn, honey, I hope you did well on your history test.  And Mister, I’ll text you a picture of the costume they have me in today.  I think you’ll like it.”  I smiled at her nickname for my dad.  She sighed and then said, “Have sweet dreams about me tonight.  I’ll be having sweet ones about you both.  Kisses.”
    I tapped a button to save the message.  The kitchen suddenly seemed cold and empty without her voice filling it.
    I backed up until my legs bumped against the coffee table.  The table was a giant wooden square my mother painted a floral design on in one of her fits of creativity.  I sat down and scooted to the center.  I placed the TV remote and my cell phone next to me and swallowed a few times, wondering if I was going to be sick.  Was I sick?  The kind of sick the news was talking about?  I felt my forehead.  I couldn’t tell if I was any warmer than usual.  I pressed my first two fingers against the inside of my wrist.  My pulse was hammering through my veins.
    I suddenly remembered when I was nine years old and afraid I would die in my sleep.  I imagined all sorts of ways my body could stop working.  All the intricate and delicate parts of the human body fascinated and horrified me.  I made myself sick for several months by not allowing myself to sleep.  I got stomachaches and headaches, which only fueled my belief that something was wrong with me.
    When my dad figured out what was going on, he bought me a stethoscope.  “Just like a real doctor has,” he told me as he gently placed the metal piece against my chest so I could hear my heartbeat.  “The heart is the most important organ in your entire body.  It keeps all the other organs going.  This way, you’ll be able to hear exactly what it’s doing all night long.”  The steady rhythm of my own heart helped me to sleep again.
    I knew my heart wasn’t going to be a good indicator of whether I was getting sick or not now.  The news stations reported a high fever was the first indicator of the Crimson Fever.  Getting up, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found a thermometer.  I stuck it under my tongue and returned to my perch on the coffee table.
    I flipped between news stations and kept the thermometer under my tongue until it was dark outside.  Every few minutes, I rotated calling my parents, texting Sarah and checking the digital display on the thermometer.  My temperature maintained a perfect ninety-eight point six.
    I unfolded my legs and winced as I stood up.  My feet were numb.  I hobbled to the windows, parted the gauzy curtains and stared down thirty-seven stories to the street choked with cars.  I could see their outlines, the beams of their headlights and the flashlights pedestrians carried.  Everything was bathed in the cool, electric blue-lavender of the Los Angeles nighttime sky.
    Obviously people weren’t staying at home like the news stations advised.  Based on the boxes and suitcases they carried, it looked like everyone was trying to get out of town.  The number of reported deaths blamed on the Crimson Fever had grown over the last few hours.  I suppose I couldn’t really blame people for wanting to run, but from what I’d seen on TV, there didn’t seem to be anywhere to run to.  In the span of five hours, the sickness seemed to be everywhere.  I’d watched The Today Show with my dad before school this morning while I ate my cereal, and there was no mention of it.  This morning.  School.  It all seemed like days ago.  Would I even go to school tomorrow?
    Suddenly, a beep cracked the silence of the room.  I jumped, clutching the neck of my t-shirt in