The H5N1, more commonly known as the avian flu, cut a deadly swathe through the world. No one knew where it had started because it sprang up in several countries at once. Within just a few weeks, several million people worldwide were dead and millions more sick. They’d finally encountered the big one, a flu strain that mutated and proved resistant to all drugs and infected quicker than wildfire. The most frightening part? Everyone who caught it died. No exceptions. Hannah began taking their temperature daily, watching herself and the little family she had left.

A month after the pandemic began, they sat riveted watching the president make an emergency address, urging people to quarantine themselves to avoid the spread of the virus and to not panic. Shaken, she’d held onto her sister and uncle’s hands-tightly-reality and fear finally making themselves known.

Will we all die? For one weak moment, she wished Brody were back, his solid arms wrapped around her, hiding her from the horror unfolding throughout the world.

Hannah didn’t bother going to work; there was no point. Patrons stopped coming either from self-imposed quarantines or, even more dreadful to contemplate, death. Besides, fear of catching the virus and infecting her family terrified her.

Being summer time, they had plenty to eat from their garden, and the chickens they kept provided eggs and meat. She and her family hid on their small property outside of town, the news their only contact with the outside world. The newscasters kept changing, more and more inexperienced folks being put in front of the camera to relay reports that offered not one shred of hope. Then, one day, none of the channels had anything to say; all of them displayed the emergency broadcast screen. Hannah hid in the bathroom that day and cried, terrified but determined to be strong for her family who now needed her more than ever.