Plague Read Free Page A

blocks away and the three of them could all have used a Tylenol or something because they all had the same headache, the same sore muscles, and the same hacking cough.
    It had started twenty-four hours ago, and they had just figured it was the flu coming back around. There’d been a mini-epidemic of flu that had left a lot of kids feeling bad. But it hadn’t been very dangerous except that it kept some kids immobilized who could have been working.
    Jennifer B—Jennifer Boyles—had been asleep for no more than an hour when she was awakened by a loud, percussive sound close by, not from outside, from the room next to hers.
    She sat up in bed and fought down the woozy, head-swimming feeling. She felt her forehead. Yeah, still hot. Definitely hot.
    Whatever the noise was, forget it, she told herself. Too sick to get up. If something was breaking into the house to kill her, so much the better: she felt rotten.
    Kkkrrraaafff!
    This time the walls seemed to shake. Jennifer B was up and out of her bed before she could think about it. She coughed, paused, then veered toward the door, eyes not quite focused, head pounding.
    In the hallway she found Jennifer L. Jennifer L was coughing, too, and looking as scared as Jennifer B. They were both in sweatpants and T-shirts, both miserable.
    “It’s in Jennifer’s room,” Jennifer L said. She had her weapon, a lead pipe with a grip bound with black electrical tape.
    Jennifer B was annoyed with herself for having forgotten her own weapon. You didn’t jump out of bed at night in the FAYZ without going armed. She staggered back to her bed and fished out the machete. It was stuck into a canvas scabbard between her mattress and box spring, handle protruding.
    It wasn’t all that sharp, but it looked crazy dangerous and it was. A two-foot-long blade with a cracked wooden grip.
    “Jennifer?” Jennifer B called at Jennifer H’s room.
    Kkkrrraaafff!
    The door rattled on its hinges. Jennifer B opened the door and stood with her machete at the ready. Jennifer L was right behind her, pipe clenched in nervous hand.
    Jennifer H had always had a fear of the dark so she had a very small Sammy sun in one corner of the room, hovering beneath what had once been a hanging light fixture. The light was green and eerie, more creepy than illuminating. It showed Jennifer H. She wore a flower-print nightgown.
    She was standing up in her bed. She clutched her throat with one hand and held her stomach with the other.
    She looked like she’d seen death.
    “Jen, you okay?” Jennifer L asked.
    Jennifer H’s eyes bulged. She stared at her two roommates.
    Her stomach convulsed. Her chest heaved. She squeezed her own throat like she was trying to choke herself. Her long, blond hair was wet, sweat-matted, plastered to her face and neck.
    The cough was shockingly loud.
    Kkkrrraaafff!
    Jennifer B felt the explosion of air. And something wet slapped her face.
    She reached her free hand and peeled a small shred of something wet from her cheek. She looked at it, unable to make sense of it. It looked like a piece of raw meat. It felt like chicken skin.
    Kkkrrraaafff!
    The power of the cough threw Jennifer back against the wall.
    “Oh, God!” she moaned. “Oh . . .”
    Kkkrrraaafff!
    And this time Jennifer B saw it. Pieces of something wet and raw had flown from Jennifer H’s mouth. She was coughing up parts of her insides.
    KKKRRRAAAAFFF!
    Jennifer H’s entire body convulsed, twisted backward into a crazy C. She crashed into the windowpane. It shattered.
    KKKRRRAAAAFFF!
    The next spasm threw Jennifer H into the wall headfirst. There was a sickening crunch.
    The other two stared at her in horror. She wasn’t moving.
    “Jen?” Jennifer B called timidly. “Jen? Jen? Are you okay?” Jennifer L asked.
    They crept closer, now holding hands, weapons still at the ready.
    Jennifer H did not answer. Her neck was twisted at a comic angle. Her eyes were open and staring. Seeing nothing. Liquid, black in the eerie