cinder || dnf

chapter five

Drista's shrieks filled the junkyard, seeping into the cracks of broken machinery and outdated computers. Dream's auditory interface couldn't protect him from the shrill memory, even as Drista's voice cracked and she dissolved into hysteria.

Dream stood trembling, unable to move. Wanting to comfort Drista. Wanting to run away.

How was this possible?

Drista was young, healthy. She couldn't be sick.

Drista cried, brushing repeatedly at her skin, the spots.

Dream's netlink took over, as it did in moments when he couldn't think for himself. Searching, connecting, feeding information to him he didn't want.

Letumosis. The blue fever. Worldwide pandemic. Hundreds of thousands dead. Unknown cause, unknown cure.

"Drista-"

He tentatively reached forward, but Drista stumbled back, swiping at her wet cheeks and nose. "Don't come near me! You'll get it. You'll all get it."

Dream retracted his hand. He heard Patches at his side, fan whirring. Saw the blue light darting over Drista, around the junkyard, flickering. He was scared.

"I said, get back!" Drista collapsed to her knees, hunching over her stomach.

Dream took two steps away, then lingered, watching Drista rock herself back and forth in Patches' light.

"I... I need to call an emergency hover. To-"

To come and take you away.

Drista didn't respond. Her whole body was rattling. Dream could hear her teeth chattering in between the wails.

Dream shivered. He rubbed at his arms, inspecting them for spots. He couldn't see any, but he eyed his right glove with distrust, not wanting to remove it, not wanting to check.

He stepped back again. The junkyard shadows loomed toward him. The plague. It was here. In the air. In the garbage. How long did it take for the first symptoms of the plague to show up?

Or...

He thought of Chang Sacha at the market. The terrified mob running from her booth. The blade of sirens.

His stomach plummeted.

Was this his fault? Had he brought the plague home from the market?

He checked his arms again, batting at invisible bugs that crawled over his skin. Stumbled back. Drista's sobs filled his head, suffocating him.

A red warning flashed across his retina display, informing him that he was experiencing elevated levels of adrenaline. He blinked it away, then called up his comm link with a writhing gut and sent a simple message before he could question it.

EMERGENCY, TAIHANG DISTRICT JUNKYARD, LETUMOSIS.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the painful dryness of his eyes. A throbbing headache told him that he should be crying, that his sobs should match his sister's.

"Why?" Drista said, her voice stammering. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," said Dream. "This isn't your fault."

But it might be mine.

"What should I do?" Patches asked, almost too quiet to be heard.

"I don't know," said Dream. "A hover is on it's way."

Drista rubbed her nose with her forearm. Her eyes were rimmed in red. "You n-need to go. You'll catch it."

Feeling dizzy, Dream realized he'd been breathing too shallowly. He took another step away before filling his lungs. "Maybe I already have it. Maybe it's my fault you caught it. The outbreak at the market today... I-I didn't think I was close enough, but... Drista, I'm so sorry."