Ch.1: Epidemic of Shadows

In the somber corridors of the school, an eerie tension hung in the air, magnified by the impending event. The composition of those present mirrored the harsh reality of the times—mostly women and children, with young men scarce due to the relentless draft aimed at bolstering the war effort against China. The geopolitical landscape had evolved drastically; many once-thriving states now existed only in fragments, their former glory a distant memory.

Passing the kitchen, I bore witness to a woman's ferocious sneeze that sent shivers down my spine, an ominous prelude to the unfolding events. The cafeteria scene was unsettling, with people consuming their meals seemingly oblivious to the looming fear that gripped me. An unexplainable unease settled within me, intensifying as I navigated through the unfamiliar territory. I kept my young child close, avoiding contact with others as an inexplicable dread gnawed at my thoughts.

The classrooms presented a distressing tableau of sickness and distress, an unending chain of suffering. A heavy, anxious feeling settled in my stomach, intensifying as we progressed down the hallway. Alex, my son, persistently questioned his sister's whereabouts, urging me to hasten our pace. As we made our way towards her classroom, the tension escalated, fear gnawing at me like an insidious whisper. At the far end of a seemingly endless corridor, a disconcerting sight met my eyes—an ailing girl and another concerned for her well-being. The girl in distress was none other than my daughter, Sarah. Relief surged through me, propelling me to her side in frantic haste.

I checked on her well-being, thankful she had not consumed anything from the cafeteria that might contribute to the mysterious ailment. Yet, the unease persisted, exacerbated by my son's urgent need to use the restroom. I reiterated to my daughter not to eat anything from the cafeteria, and she nodded in understanding. As my son attended to his needs, an abrupt alarm shattered the silence, plunging us into a sudden frenzy of panic.

Peering out, I witnessed what appeared to be the fire brigade and military officers, urging everyone to stay put. The backdrop of war heightened our anxiety, fearing an imminent attack. Recognizing one of the approaching figures as Mark, my husband's friend, I beckoned him for answers. His words struck fear into my heart—an ominous caution against consuming the food and water. As my son attempted to wash his hands, we discovered the water supply had been compromised.

Mark's urgency to fetch my daughter hinted at a grave sickness linked to crows. The gravity of the situation sank in as we grappled with the unknown. Left in the bathroom with three young boys, uncertainty loomed over us like a storm cloud. Mark's return with my daughter and her friend, Lily, offered a glimmer of hope amid the chaos. He advised us to ration our supplies for a week, acknowledging the severity of our predicament.

Lily's tears conveyed the emotional toll of the crisis on all of us. Mark's grim revelation about those who had consumed the cafeteria food intensified the somber atmosphere. As dread filled me, I faced a heart-wrenching choice, aiming to shield my children from the impending tragedy.

Mark hinted at an evacuation plan, a desperate attempt to escape this nightmare. However, safety required enduring a week of quarantine to ascertain if we carried the sickness. Contemplating the risks and benefits, I steeled myself for the challenges ahead, praying for a glimmer of hope in this harrowing journey into the unknown.

The school, once a hub of education and hope, now stood as a haunting reminder of the fragility of normalcy. The hallways, which once echoed with youthful laughter and the rustle of textbooks, now bore witness to a grim reality. The specter of an unseen enemy, lurking in the shadows, had transformed the familiar into a realm of fear and uncertainty.

The war with China had wrought havoc on the world stage, altering the fabric of nations and leaving them vulnerable and battered. It was a war of attrition, where each passing day exacted a heavy toll on the populace. The draft had become a dire necessity, stretching its arms beyond the expected demographics to draw women into its fold. Old norms and boundaries had crumbled under the weight of necessity.

As the sun cast long shadows across the corridors, I walked with a heavy heart, my mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. The sneeze that resonated from the kitchen had pierced the veil of normalcy, sending shivers down my spine. It was a stark reminder that danger could manifest in the most innocuous of moments. The cafeteria, usually a hub of social interaction, had become a place of subtle dread. Each mouthful seemed laden with a palpable fear, and I struggled to comprehend the root of my unease.

My daughter, Sarah, was my anchor in this tempest of uncertainty. Her safety was my paramount concern. As we ventured towards her classroom, every step felt like a desperate bid to outrace the encroaching fear. The sight of her, albeit ailing, filled me with a strange mix of relief and anguish. I yearned for an explanation, a coherent narrative that could unravel the enigma surrounding us.

The alarm shattered the uneasy calm, propelling us into a whirlwind of chaos. The fire brigade and military officers seemed like sentinels in this evolving drama. Mark's arrival was a beacon of familiarity in the midst of the escalating crisis. His warning about the food and water sent shockwaves through my already frayed nerves. It was a revelation that hinted at an insidious threat, one that lurked in the shadows, elusive and sinister.

Mark's mention of the sickness originating from crows felt like a page ripped from a dystopian tale. The disquiet in the bathroom, surrounded by young boys and the impending sense of doom, felt like a scene from a surreal nightmare. In that moment, my instincts as a mother waged a silent battle with the rationality of survival.

The duffle bag and case of water were tokens of survival in an unforgiving world. They represented our lifeline in this war against an invisible adversary. The weeping of Lily echoed the collective anguish that permeated the very air we breathed. Mark's face wore the weight of the burdens he bore—responsibility, sorrow, and the cruel inevitability of decisions that could mean life or death.

In the face of adversity, we are often confronted with choices that define our humanity. Mark's acknowledgment of the grim fate that awaited those who had consumed the contaminated food was a gut-wrenching reality. The decision to separate Lily from the other boy was an act of empathy, a desperate attempt to shield innocence from the clutches of an unyielding fate.

The plan for an evacuation offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to break free from the clutches of this forsaken place. However, the notion of quarantine was a stark reminder of the stringent measures needed to contain a contagion. It was a necessary evil, a bitter pill that held the promise of salvation.

As Mark left to investigate the source, the weight of our predicament bore down on us. Time seemed to stretch, each second a poignant reminder of the fragility of life. The woman's sneeze in the kitchen echoed in my thoughts, a haunting refrain that underscored the gravity of our situation.

The days ahead promised to be a test of resilience, a journey into the unknown where our mettle would be tried and tested. In the face of adversity, hope was a fragile ember, and we clung to it, praying for a dawn that would bring deliverance from the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.