Page 102 of The Presidents Shadow

HOW STUPID OF me. How ridiculously, blindly stupid of me. When we arrived back in New York, I had actually convinced myself that our extraordinary amount of bad luck had come to an end. How much horror could the world bring down upon us?

As you have most likely realized… I was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Burbank’s sore throat only worsens, giving us no doubt that Newbola Strong is present among us, bringing with it exceptional pain and suffering. It takes only thirty minutes for the horrid disease to explode and infect every person in the house.

Large red and yellow pus-filled sores begin to spread across our necks, backs, and legs. Elbows and knees seem particularly vulnerable. It is in those vital joints that Newbola Strong not only disfigures the skin but penetrates to the bones themselves, causing excruciating pain.

I am not spared. Along with the same throbbing pain and mutilated skin that are cursing my family and friends, I am flushed with an alarmingly high fever and a headache so severe that I think I can hear the pulsing of the veins that surround my brain.

I am trying to figure out what, if anything, I can do to help all of us.

Then, unexpectedly, Grandma Jessica—her own voice raspy with pain—announces that Dr. DaSilva is calling on the video screen.

Sure enough, Dr. DaSilva looks calmly—even happily—out at me. It’s understandable that she is calm. She does not yet know that the new plague has exploded in my specific world.

“Did you get the documentation and analysis I sent you, Lamont? I’m anxious to hear your thoughts.”

I sputter and stammer.

“Is something wrong on your end?” she asks. “I’m having trouble hearing you.”

“Anna, it’s here!” I say. “It’s in my home! It’s inside my family and my friends!”

The woman on the screen looks confused.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I realize that my voice is soft and weak. I try again.

“Newbola Strong. The new strain. We all have it,” I say, my throat on fire. My lips and tongue are quivering.

“I warned you that it was spreading,” Dr. DaSilva says. But there is no “I told you so” tone to her voice. She is clearly as alarmed as I am.

“Hold on a moment,” she says.

I watch the video screen as Dr. DaSilva taps some keys on a nearby computer. In the few seconds it takes her to perform that task, Margo slowly walks toward me and shows me a message on her handheld device. It’s from Maddy:

Me Belinda sick. Skin pain. Sores. Bad heads.

In my sick, confused state it takes me longer than it should to understand that both Maddy and Belinda also have been struck by Newbola Strong.

Then Dr. DaSilva begins talking excitedly.

“Lamont, you can try taking an experimental formula that my team has created. It’s not been thoroughly tested, of course,” she says.

“Then give me an un tested antidote,” I say. “Anything. Send me that or send me a gun so I can shoot everyone. This is horrible.”

Anna closes her eyes for a few seconds. When she opens them she says, “We know nothing about its effectiveness. We know nothing about side effects. It is not ready to even risk testing on the severely suffering patients being held in the army barracks.”

“Just give it to us,” I say. “I think every one of us would agree that any side effect cannot possibly be as bad as the symptoms.”

She speaks.

“There is a model of the capsule being formulated at the confidential pharma creation lab on 124th Street. If you could send someone up to 350 East Twen—”

“I can’t send someone,” I tell her. “We’re all too sick. Way too sick. We can barely move. Tell the lab to set the medication next to an open windowsill on the south side of their building.”

I am, of course, hoping that I have enough remaining mental power to get the medication to us.

Dr. DaSilva says, “Will do.”

I break the connection with her and then bow my head. I try desperately to make my way through the pain and fever that have invaded my brain. Focus, Lamont. Unleash the power. Focus, Lamont. Harness the power and let it move forward. Harness and work. Work. Just work.

I keep trying. I stay focused

I squint hard. I think. I work. I focus.

I open my eyes. Then I look down at my hands.

I am now holding a small bottle of tiny green pills.

I distribute them quickly to my team. Then I invoke my recently dormant atomic dissolve-and-rebuild power to mind-messenger two pills to Maddy and Belinda.