Immunity Index by Sue Burke (ebooks children's books free txt) 📕

probably don’t interface. This is really old, like ten years. And if they’re not interfaced, they might not know if we change things, at least not right away. All right. Here it goes.”

Avril watched her tap three buttons. They listened. Silence. She tapped more buttons. Drew walked over to the door to the office and tested it. It opened. “Let’s go.”

“One more thing,” Bessea said. “Let’s check.” She gestured for them to follow her through a little meeting room with an exterior door. She opened it, stepped outside, and took a deep breath, eyes closed in bliss at the fresh air and the feel of sunshine on her face. “We’re free, if we can avoid getting shot.” She got serious again. “And we have work to do. Let’s go tell everyone.”

Drew was already heading back. “Our phones should work out there. We can find out what’s going on.”

“Wait,” Avril said, pointing to the boxes. “We should take some of these to the clinic.” She chose three to take, one each of cleaner, gloves, and masks.

Drew frowned. “Why … I mean … this … they had this?”

“Let’s go!” Bessea hissed. She grabbed some boxes of masks and leaned out the door to peer down the hallway. “It’s okay.”

She and Drew, who also grabbed some boxes, hurried one way. Avril ran the other way and met the lookout. Together, they dashed to the far end of the building and up the stairs to the second floor. As they reached it, she heard a centaur voice booming. The lookout opened the door a crack.

“Return to your rooms,” it commanded.

As far as it might know, she was in her room with her phone. The voice came closer—centaurs could climb stairs. She and the lookout fled on tiptoes up to the third floor, eased themselves out, and ducked into the nearest bathroom.

Three male students stood inside, one wearing a purple tie around his neck over a black T-shirt. They didn’t seem surprised to see them slip in.

“As soon as you can, take these down to the clinic,” Avril said, holding out the boxes. “We found them in the building office. They must have been planning for an epidemic. And we unlocked the doors. You can get out. They’ll explain at the clinic.”

She turned and peeked out the door. She was going to sneak back to her room, grab her phone, and go outside. She’d have to dodge centaurs, but she’d be free, and she had phone calls to make.

Berenike answered the phone again. Calls with clients were always audio-only because bandwidth wasn’t free, but the tone of voice painted a picture.

“I need to go home. My kid is sick!”

She’d heard a call like that more times than she wanted to count. And she sympathized with each and every one. “I understand. Let me check. The delay is because we’re disinfecting each car for your safety.”

“I gotta get home right away! I don’t care what they say, it’s Sino.”

“We have a car coming out of cleaning right now and I’ll send it to your building. It won’t open for anyone but you. It’ll stink of cleaning fluid, so open the windows. I’ve also adjusted the speedometer, so don’t be surprised if you go fast.” Then she said something she’d said a lot of times already. “I lost my dad last night to this, so I really do understand. I’ll set the car to stay with you until you release it in case you need to get to a hospital right away. But please, as soon as you can, put the car back into circulation. There are a lot of people like you.”

“Oh, your dad? I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I’m glad I can help. I hope your kid is okay.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He sounded sincere.

She switched to the next call.

“Where’s my car? I have a meeting about to start.”

The screen told Berenike all she needed to know. “We’re disinfecting each car because of the epidemic, and that’s taking time. Looking at what you’ve requested, I suggest walking. You’ll get there faster. There’s an emergency. I’m sorry.” I am not.

“What are you talking about?”

“As you know, there’s a state of emergency due to the epidemic. You’ve seen what the White House just said.”

“White House? The Prez?”

“You might want to change your plans for today. Thank you for calling.” She had no time to waste on fools.

The White House statement had said don’t worry, things are under control, wash your hands, consult with your health provider in the event of illness. Don’t panic. It’s just a mild cold.

Bullshit. Everyone else said otherwise. Hospitals were ramping up to be swamped and creating quarantine wards. The city had declared an emergency, closed schools, and asked nonessential businesses to send their employees home. Residents were urged to remain home, remain calm, and wash their hands.

People desperately wanted to get home. Some were panicking—at that thought, she touched some buttons to lock the doors to the office and lower the shutter to the bay entrance. If clients panicked, they could throw their fits on the sidewalk, not in the office. Things were going to get ugly fast.

Her phone was tuned to an activist-turned-mutineer channel, which was full of more speculation than news, and it all made her heart sink. Maybe, the rumors said, this epidemic had been a plan to undermine the protest, and it might succeed.

“We can adjust to this,” a woman known as Dirae said, and apparently she was a local leader—Berenike was learning new things about the mutiny every minute. “We can show people we’re competent and can handle an emergency better.”

We can handle an emergency until the fighting starts—because the other side wouldn’t go down without a fight. She remembered that some general had once said something like “When the first bullets start flying, every plan falls apart.” So maybe not having much of a plan for the mutiny would turn out to be an advantage. If the epidemic was the Prez’s counterplan, he deserved to be tried and