Chapter One

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by raspberrylemonades

by raspberrylemonades

The Black Death arrived in Europe by sea, October 1247, by 12 fresh trading ships at the Sicilian port of Messina, all the crew members were dead, or dying, and covered in mysterious black "bloils" that leaked blood and pus and named the illness, "Black Death".

Authorities ordered the ships to be sunk, or driven from the harbor, but their efforts were in vain, as over 20 million people fell in the next five years, almost One Third of the population.

It makes you think of what would happen if history happened to repeat itself, right?

"Come on Jay!" Brooke yelled, ushering the shorter of the two along. "Jeez, calm down, not everyone is as spry as you." Replied Jay, clutching their books, hustling to class.

"It's because you're a med student, all uptight and prissy," Brooke joked, "You are compensating for your lack of cool dojo, as you can tell I have by my," Blair paused, for dramatic effect of course, not because they were about to trip looking for their new creation, "New necklace!" They yelled, pulling out what looked like a bird's skull, wether it was a mold or coated in cheap metal Jay couldn't tell, but either way their friend had to manhandle a dead body, and that was unacceptable.

"Ew, Blair what the hell!" Jay screeched, like the bird once did, probably, noted Brooke, and jumped back. "I am at least one hundred percent sure you have rabies!" "How do you know that? I seem fine" "I am almost a doctor, and if you start foaming at the mouth I am definitely leaving you to die in the fountain." "Yeah okay, fine." Brooke gave in, but only because they had to leave Jay at her class.

Brooke watched their friend disappear into the building, smile fading. They both couldn't ignore it, the sudden disappearance of a few students, the sudden increase of a need for doctors, because of a "mysterious illness". Brooke couldn't ignore it, and neither could Jay, which is why they had suddenly become very obsessed with good grades and schoolwork. Brooke couldn't blame them, as they couldn't really understand, because they had never made it to college, settling to run a small creepy antique shop, but they were right in their element, which is why they had become nervous.

These signs that were being hidden from the general public, but not from someone like them. Brooke walked and sat on a bench to think. They had been in third grade, they knew what was happening, I mean, they had seen someone get hauled off to somewhere unknown after someone spotted black bumps on their back, and under their sleeves.

Brooke sighed, and went back to open up shop, sitting back into their creaky chair behind the desk.

This was going to be a slow day.

So̘̜̪͚͙̩͘r̻̟͎͔̺r̴̙͔̙̠y̮͓ ͔i̢͈̖͎̳̰t̠̖͍'̤̮̙̯̼̰s̺̟̣̜ ͏͇͕̝̟̣̭s̮̳h̛̰͉̞o̙̣̩r͏̰̯̥͇͓͖̣t͖̞̝̭͖̫̥,̤̲ ͉̮̩̝̦͕a̺̮̪͉̳̪n͈̥͍d̞̯̟̹̣͓͓ ͇͓͜b̦e̜̬c̺̰͙̣̞̼͍͠a͙̺͉̰u̗͔̦̞͚̼̦s͔̬̗̪̬̩e̛͇͍ ̜͔͔̣̠̟̼I̛̻̣͚̪̗ ͈̹̜͔̥̫d͍on̼̞̞̹͟'͓͓͔t͈͕͞ ̪͕w̺̻̕a̗n̡͚̞̗͖t̫̖̼̭͖̝̮ ̖̼̟̹͜p̗͟e͠o̬̣͚̻̲̯͟ͅp̱̥̯̝̟̥͢l͙̼ͅe̮̣̘͕̝̠ͅ ̘̘͕͎̥t̤̙̻̳̰ó̺̞̹ ̴̣̼g̮̼͓e̴̮͍͉͍t̻̱ ̧͈m̵̤͙̖͍̣̮̬èͅ ̭̱̞̞c̡͈̪̱o͎̜͎̘̘͓n̡̙̮̖̝f҉̯̱ͅu͓s̳̤̟͔̰ͅè͈̖͎͍̞d͈̫̭͚̘ ҉͎̲w̼͜it̯̻͘h̭̞ ͔̘͘ͅͅt̶̯̠̲̳̳͉h͠ͅo͓͓̟u̯̗̭̫̘g҉͎̠h̵͙̦t͔̹̀s͓̠̗͈̮,̪͚̕ ̪I̻̙̩͠'͟l̟̦ļ̹͕ ̙u̜͉̼̞̖s̶̱͔̦̭͚͇e̡̲͚̗̙̩̼̠ ̹͈Z̪̬à͙͕̖̺̹͓̼l̞̘͍͍̫̫͚g̹͇͓̼̟̹͠o̜̦ ̻͍͚͇͕̣̣t͇̱̕è̜̩̪̙xt̠̗͔͘.̩
̵͚̻͚̯͎̺͕A̦̺͈l͈͔̫̭s҉͙̥̞̭͓̘̟o̹̻̱̫͜,̸̦̙̗̭̣ ̝̩͝i̸̮̺t̢͈̹͚͎̝ ̵̺͍͙̬̟f̱̹̞͕͡i̺̻̥͚̰̹̝t̵̳̬̥͎͙̘s̗̬̱͕̺͉͠ ̻͜t̷̬̦̼̤ͅh̵͕̼̙̭̮͙e̜͇ ̡͚̬͓̟͍e̛̩̤̱̞̲̟e̟͔̯̝̙r̵̭̮͙͖̳ͅie̗̥͍ ̗̗̟̟̲t̸h̟͇̮͖e͔̘̮̜̻͔̩m̟̻̙̬̮é͓̦͕ͅ ̡͇͍̹̬̼̻̘q̺͕̖͢u̯̖̦ͅi͓̲̯̗̫͖t̙͔̠̙ͅe̮̠͍ ṉ̞͉ice͉͈̳̼͡l̡y̻̳̭,̼͖ ̶̠̫͎̥̠d̮̭̬̠̘̱ͅǫ̣ń͇͇͓̪ͅ'͍̭̠͚͕̱̥̕ṱ̝̳̜̦͞ ͍̜͍͇̪̮͇ýa̲͉̖̮̜͞ ̮͍̖̘͚͡ͅt҉̟̮̹ẖ̬ͅi̧̝̟̞̘̲ͅnk?̞̟͈͝