Free Breath by Jackie Morse Kessler

from sickly to merely sun-starved, and the shadows under his eyes gave him an air of mystery, even danger. He could have been on his way to a casting call for beautiful vampires, except vampires didn’t sip from old Styrofoam cups and grimace every time they swallowed.
    Xander asked, “Want to grab some fresh coffee before we hit the package store?”
    “Zan, the man with the plan.”
    “You know you said that with your out-loud voice, right?”
    “I blame the bad coffee.”
    Ted pulled into a fast-food drive-through, although the word “fast” was a horrible tease, considering the line of vehicles ahead of them. Once the Death Car stopped moving, the air became oppressive—the car didn’t have luxuries like air conditioning—so Xander and Ted both opened their windows.
    “Love the smell of garbage and hot oil in the morning,” Xander said, breathing deeply.
    “That’s because you’re disturbed. Damn it!” Ted swatted at a mosquito, which avoided his hand either by luck or insectile agility. “Stupid bugs. What’s the point of mosquitos?”
    “Food for fish.”
    “Can’t they just eat a pizza?”
    “Maybe if they had teeth.”
    “They bite, don’t they?”
    The mosquito whined by Xander’s arm. He waited until it touched down, just below his elbow, and then he smashed it to a smear. Bug guts and Ted’s blood combined in a deathly streak that marred Xander’s skin.
    “Zan the skeeter killer,” Ted said.
    “Still using your out-loud voice.”
    “Look at that. That’s my blood on you. Freaking bugs. Hate them. Wish they’d all just disappear.”
    “Seriously?” Xander said. “You’d waste a wish on mosquito genocide?”
    “Hell yes.”
    “You’re crazy. If I had one wish, I wouldn’t use it to kill bugs.”
    Xander’s phone vibrated, and he checked it quickly to read the new text. He’d expected it to be from Riley, but instead it was a message from Suzie.
     
U OK?
     
    He chuckled.
    “What’s up?” Ted asked.
    “Suzie’s being all mother hen. Wants to know if I’m okay. I must have really drank a lot last night, huh?”
    Ted shrugged, said nothing as he inched the Death Car forward.
    Xander texted back that he was fine, that he and Ted were on the way to Izzy’s to watch the game. He asked if she’d be there, even though he already knew the answer: Suzie did many things, but watching televised sports wasn’t one of them. Thirty seconds after he hit Send, he got a new text.
     
?????????
     
    “Huh.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing, Suzie’s just being weird.” He put his phone away.
    “That’s our Suzie,” Ted said, moving the car forward again.
    “Yeah.” For a second, he thought he remembered Suzie yelling at him—no, yelling something at him, trying to tell him something, something important, but he couldn’t make out the words.
    He thought he heard the screeching of tires, but it was just the Death Car coming to a jerking halt.
    A chill whispered over Xander, leaving goosebumps on his flesh like secret kisses. He glanced out the window. Even though the crows he’d seen before were long gone, he thought he could hear their warning lingering in the air.
    Soon.

Pestilence
    The volunteer patiently taught a group of village women about the importance of using mosquito netting in their homes. The bed nets were treated with a chemical that would help prevent malaria. A child died from the disease every thirty seconds, the volunteer said somberly, then she went on to explain that malaria was spread by mosquitos, which bit people mostly at night. Sleeping under the treated nets would help keep their families safe in two ways: It would act as a barrier, and the chemicals on the nets would kill the mosquitos.
    But the women were afraid. They would suffocate, one declared. The chemicals would harm their children, another insisted. A third proclaimed that white was the color of death, and all the village women nodded knowingly.
    Unnoticed by the women, Pestilence snorted. White,