Suh heard John Z. Koff. It was a wet, deep cough. John Z stared off into the distance for

a moment. Then shook her head before returning to her campus. She had felt the crackling

in her chest that time, and knew it was coming. For some reason, it felt like if she just

didn't acknowledge it, didn't make it real by calling it what it was. Nimonia, then maybe

it would pass her by. Maybe it would really be nothing. She had come all the way from

California to New York City. There, she met Su and a diner on 8th. As it turned out, they

were both painters, and Su was looking for a roommate. They got along instantly. They

liked the same music, food, and art. Suh showed John Z. The place. It was wide and well-lit

and dingy, and it was theirs. John Z moved in shortly thereafter, and she was happy. That

was spring. She had no idea how cold winters in Granite Village could really be. John Z

had never even seen snow, and the apartment that was warm in summer and a little drafting

in fall fell frigid in the winter. She bought a coat, but it was too late. One by one, their

friends started to come down with it. Nimonia moved through the village like an old man with

icy fingers, touching everyone he could. Suh had lived in New York her whole life, but she had never

seen this many sick people. She and John Z had barricaded themselves in their apartment. In fact,

Suh refused to let John Z even go out for groceries. She was right to be worried.

And when the cough echoed through the room that day when they were painting,

Suh knew that her friend was in trouble. It was two days later, when,

serving with a fever of 103, John Z didn't feel like getting out of bed. Her cough ricocheted

through the apartment, filling Suh with dread every time. She sat loyally by her friend,

day in and day out, as she descended into fever-induced madness. Then, the counting began.

I'm Jason Weiser. From Bardock, this is fictional.

...