CHAPTER 1
Last Breath
Year 2236
Devina
What do you say to someone who is dying?
As a writer, I’m good with words, but not when my throat feels like an iron band is tightening around my neck and I can’t breathe from the sorrow in my chest.
“Nana…” My voice broke and I could no longer hide the impending emotional breakdown that had been building up since I came back home three days ago.
My grandmother’s eyes were hooded as she lay in her bed. “I know, my child.” Her caress of my hand was slow and weak, just like her speech. “I hate to leave you like this.”
With a loud sniffle, I buried my head against her gray hair.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Her old hands patted my head. “If only they had developed the vaccine sooner.”
Being twenty-eight, I hadn’t lived with my family unit since I moved out seven years ago. There were no universities in our small rural area and I’d wanted to pursue a career as a writer.
Despite the distance, we were a close family and I had always talked to them daily. It had been only two months since my youngest sister, Maria, told me she wasn’t feeling good. I’d teased her that she just wanted to be pampered for a day. With symptoms similar to the common flu, we had all thought Maria would get better, but then her school sent out a warning that it could be a potential epidemic and that kids should stay home.
At first, my sixteen-year-old brother, Justin, was excited to have some days out of school, but then the News began reporting about an outbreak and when a girl from Maria’s class died, we all got scared.
Every day I called my family hoping for good news, but within a week, seven out of the eight of them had all contracted a fever and they made me promise to stay away.
The media named it the Triple D virus, which was short for Deceptive Death Disease. The Press came up with the name after a pattern emerged of victims showing signs of complete remission only to die of sudden cardiac arrest. Doctors specializing in infectious diseases spoke of the danger of infected people thinking they were well and going out to infect others. They theorized that the outbreak stemmed from a waterborne virus and kept promising a vaccine was close.
Most of the green area where my family lived was placed in quarantine, making it impossible for anyone outside the infection zone to get in and help. With hopeless despair, we were left to watch how, in the span of eight weeks, seventeen thousand people died. Among them were my three sisters, brother, dad, and both my mothers.
I waited seven hours in a long line to be among the first to get the vaccine when it came out seven days ago. Four days later the quarantine had finally been lifted and I’d hurried to my family’s home up north. But by then, only my grandmother had been left
With all my heart, I wanted to believe I could heal her back to life, but her symptoms were different from the Triple D virus. From the sound of her strained breathing, it was a matter of time before I lost her too.
“Don’t die, Nana,” I cried.
“I gave everything.” Her words were low, but I knew what she meant. Nana was a healer and trying to fight off the sickness of seven family members had drained her life-force. I’d seen her get tired after healing sessions all through my childhood.
“Take some of my energy,” I offered even though I knew it didn’t work like that. She closed her eyes as if she’d already given up.
“No, don’t leave me alone.” My speech was unclear from the sobbing.
“Devina, dear.” My grandmother’s voice was shaky and her cough made me lean in to support her head. Thinking these might be her last words, I sniffled hard and looked deep into her eyes.
“You shouldn’t have come back here.”
“I had to.” Using the back of my free hand, I dried my tears to see her better. “The vaccine will protect me.”
“Mmm… don’t let our family die out.” The dark circles under her eyes and the grayish color of my nana’s skin made her look much older than her seventy-four years.
“Oh, Nana, let me save you. Tell me what to do.”
She closed her eyes for a second. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I sniffled.
“A child...”
