My wife woke early, as was usual for her, especially on a weekend morning. Pel rose with the dawn, yawning along with the gauzy-eyed sunrise. Fog clung to the crooked pines, shrouding the hills in gray quietude. It was Pel’s habit to cook our typically extravagant weekend breakfast before the kids or I had risen. She’d do it wearing nothing but her pajamas and her pink bathrobe, because mornings by the bay tended to be chilly. Pel’s slippers were formidable: two mops’ worth of grumbly brown hairs covered plastic soles that clicked on the kitchen’s tiled floor like puppies scampering about.

The world became a measurably better place when Pel cooked weekend breakfast. She cooked with the kitchen door open, so that the sumptuous aroma of sweetness toasted, baked, or grilled wafted out into the living room rotunda, and from there to the rest of the house. It made the whole house smell like love. Cooking inevitably led to eating, and if I didn’t catch her chowing down on her handiwork, she’d shuffle off back to bed, not to be disturbed ’til noon or so, when she’d finally rise to meet the day for good.

I managed to catch her in those early hours about half of the time, usually because the scent of deliciousness had roused my grumbling belly. She always smiled when I stumbled upon her sitting at the dining room table, eating by the light from the morning sun streaming through her window, with her PortaCon mounted on the inclinable part of the table. She grazed food and news at the same time, swiping her fingers across the screen to skip to the stories that most caught her interest. Pel never failed to wipe her hands clean on a nearby towel before touching the technology.

Often, when I stumbled upon this scene, I was too charmed by it to even consider intruding upon it. I’d had less inhibition when I was younger and less jaded. I’d go out and kiss her—lips to delicious, syrup-smeared lips—and we’d gossip and chatter about the latest buzz, while the kids slept on, none the wiser. Sometimes, we still did, but for the most part, those days were long behind us.

This morning, however, the newsfeed was difficult to swallow. It was grave and bitter. She preferred to face it on the far side of noon, after she’d done Convocation and infused herself with the Angel’s saving grace. Pel knew well the dire importance of the news; she just wanted to face it with God on her side.

Just as my wife was about to take the dishes in and return to our half-empty bed, the console screen pinged and darkened as my name popped onto it, along with the prompt to accept or decline the incoming videophone call. Pel wiped her hands on a cloth napkin before accepting the call.

“Good morning, Genneth.”

“You’ve…” I sighed. “I take it you’ve read the latest news?”

Pel paused, searching for the right words. But she couldn’t find them, and so she settled for a troubled nod.

“A lot’s been going on, Pel,” I said. “It’s worse than they’re letting on.” I lowered my voice. “A lot worse.”

“Is that why you haven’t come home yet?” she asked.

“Yes,” I lied. In order to live with myself, I immediately followed it up with a double-scoop of pure truth. “Right now, we need all the help we can get.” I smiled. “I’ll have you know I’ve been assigned to supervise and coordinate the entirety of E Ward. Tell that to your mother next time she says I’m not a ‘real’ doctor,” I added.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“So… you’ll be staying at the hospital for a while?” Pel asked. “I know this outbreak isn’t your fault, but…”

She turned away from the screen and sighed.

“Pel,” I said, “about the other night, I—”

“—Genneth,” she turned back to face me and sat down in her chair by the console. “I know you’re trying.” She smiled gently. “I appreciate the effort you’ve been putting into making room for family events, and I’m sorry we argued on the ride over to the play.”

If I knew Pel, I was about five seconds away from a “But”.

“But,” she said, tilting her head forward, “it’s not only about making the time. You have to push it forward, too; you have to be there, in body and mind. Just one of the two isn’t enough.” As she spoke, she seemed more disappointed than dejected.

Though she couldn’t see it, I was clenching my fist.

“I know it’s been hard,” Pel continued, “Rayph was—”

“—I’m sorry, Pel,” I said, with a quiet groan. “By the time I realized how off I felt, it was already too late. I had to go out and get fresh air, and I guess I just… I lost track of time. But, you know I always—”

“—I knew it.” She nodded, certain of herself. Her features tightened with concern. “I knew you were coming down with something. What is it?” Her words quivered in a sudden vibrato. “Is it…?”

Fudge.

Now there was no avoiding it.

I promise I’ll tell you, just not now.

“No.” I reached for the nearest lie. “It was diarrhea.”

I caught a hint of a chuckle. Pel palmed her face and tilted her head downward, shaking it with amused disapproval. “You had the—”

“—Yes,” I nodded. I raised my palms to her, professing my guilt. “I admit it. I sinned,” I said. “I had the sweet-meat quinoa curry. I know I said I would stay away from it, but I didn’t, because I was in a rush, and it’s absolutely my fault, and—”

“—But on the day of Rayph’s play? Of all days?” Tilting her head, Pel ran her fingers through her hair. “Genneth…”

I literally bit the edge of my tongue. “Pel, just put that all aside. Just for a minute. This is important.” I put on my ‘serious face’. “I’m serious.”

She glared at me, as if I’d said the worst thing.

“I don’t want the kids going to school—at least for the next few days. I want all of you to stay at the house—except, first, you need to go down to the market ASAP and get as much food as you can fit into the kitchen, and then some. And don’t hesitate to splurge on dry goods and non-perishables.”

Pel drew close to the console. “Do you really think it’s going to get that bad?” It was almost a whisper. “I thought it was just a bad cough. At least… that’s what Cathy said.”

Cathy was Pelbrum’s primary ‘church friend’. She was also something of a conspiracy theorist.

Just like Margaret.

“Almost everyone coming to the hospital right now is here because they’re infected. It might be an overreaction, or it might not, but, I’d rather err on the side of caution. You know that. So, please, if you could do this for me.”

Catching myself sniffling, I rebounded with a smile. “Besides, worst case scenario, we won’t need to worry about buying cereal for the rest of the year.”

“F-Fine,” Pel said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it.” She smiled. “But only because I’m pretty sure you know what you’re talking about—Mr. I’m-in-Charge-of-Ward-E.”

I smiled and nodded. “Before you go, make sure you’re wearing your gloves. And get gloves and a surgical mask from the utility room. And go ask Storn for his old woodworking goggles. They’ll keep you from getting anything in your eyes. Wear it all while you’re shopping, and, once you go back to the house, don’t go anywhere, and don’t let anyone in. Please.”

I had to fight to find the compromise between “I want you to stay safe” and “the world doesn’t make sense any more, I’m turning into a wyrm, and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen next.”

It was an impossible task.

“I love you,” I said, rushing the words. “I’ll see you soon.”

For a moment, she let her guard down; I could see the fear in her eyes. “Genneth…?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I need to go.”

I reached for the “End Call” icon.

“Stay safe.”

The screen went dark, leaving Pelbrum alone in the foggy twilight.