Chapter One

      In the summer of my twenty-third year, the Red Lung virus began its spread across the eastern United States. Flulike symptoms evolved to raging fever, necrosis of the lungs and finally asphyxiation, as victims choked and drowned in their own blood. By the time government officials knew anything was wrong, the virus had already made its way overseas and was rapidly decimating Europe and parts of Asia, with no signs of slowing down. A worldwide emergency was called; towns had been emptied, cities lay in ruins and the virus continued its deadly march toward human extinction.

      We thought Red Lung was as bad as it could get.

      We were wrong.

      * * *

      “Kylie! It’s Mr. Johnson!”

      I spun from Ms. Sawyer’s cot, nearly beaning Maggie in the nose as I whirled around. The intern looked frantic, her eyes wide over her mask, her face pale as she pointed to a cot along the far wall. Two masked interns were struggling with the body of a middle-aged man who was spasming and coughing violently, trying to throw them off. Blood flecked his lips, spattered in vivid patterns across his sheets and hospital robes. His mouth gaped, trying to suck in air, and his breathing tube lay on the ground in a pool of blood and saliva.

      I rushed over, snatching a syringe from my lab coat and dodging the intern, who stumbled back as the man flailed. Grabbing the patient’s arm, I threw my weight against him, which didn’t do much as Mr. Johnson was a big guy and frantic, and I weighed about one hundred ten sopping wet.

      “Hold him down!” I called to Eric, the intern who’d been flung back, and he pounced on the man again. Blood streamed from the man’s nose and flew in arcing ribbons across the bed as he coughed and flailed. I uncapped the syringe and plunged it into his arm, injecting eight mms of morphine into his veins.

      Gradually, his struggles ceased. His eyes rolled back, and his head lolled to the side as he passed into unconsciousness.

      At this stage of the infection, he would probably never wake up.

      I sighed and brushed away a strand of ash-blond hair that had come loose from my clip during my struggles with Mr. Johnson. My hand came away sticky with blood, but I was so used to that now, I barely noticed. “Keep an eye on him,” I told Eric and the other intern, Jenna, who looked on with weary, hooded eyes. “Let me know if there’s any change, or if he wakes up.”

      Jen nodded, but Eric made a disgusted sound and shook his head, his dark curls bouncing.

      “He’s not going to wake up,” he said, voicing the fact that everyone knew but was too numb to think about. “We’ve seen this a thousand times, now.” He turned accusing eyes on me, gesturing at the unconscious patient. Though he slept now, we could hear the gurgling in his throat and lungs, the rasp of air through a rapidly flooding windpipe. “Why did you even waste a shot of morphine on him? We’re almost out, and it could’ve been used on someone who has a chance. Why not put the poor bastard out of his misery?”

      “Keep your voice down,” I said in a cool, even tone, giving him a hard glare. Around us, our patients coughed or slept fitfully, too drug-addled to really understand what we said, but they weren’t deaf. And the other interns were watching. They were just as discouraged and frightened and exhausted, but I could not show weakness, especially now.

      “It’s not our place to say who lives or dies,” I said quietly, looking at Eric but speaking to all of them. “We have a responsibility to these people, to fight for them. To not give up. That’s why we set up this clinic, even though all the hospitals in the city have probably shut down by now. We can still help, and we will not abandon them.”

      “You’re crazy.” Eric finally looked up at me, his face bleak. “This is crazy, Kylie. Everyone is gone, even Doc Adams, and he set this whole place up. You might not want to accept it, but it’s time to face facts.” He nodded at Maggie and Jen on the other side of the bed. “This is futile. We’re the only ones left, and we can’t save anyone. We lost. It’s time to throw in the towel.”

      “No.” My voice came out flat, cold. “This isn’t a stupid boxing match. These are people’s lives. I’m not going to abandon them. Even if I can only give them a peaceful last few days, that’s better than doing nothing.” Eric snorted, and I stared him down. “But I’m not keeping you here.” I pointed past him at the entrance to the makeshift clinic, the opening covered with plastic strips.