Free The Gemini Virus by Wil Mara

report—further confirmed by the local freebie newspaper—the elderly couple caught the virus while visiting family in nearby Glen Rock. Three days later, they were both dead. A UPS delivery man saw the wife through the decorative glass partition by the front door, lying in the hallway. A barbecue fork had been thrust deep into her lower back. The husband was found spread-eagle on their bed, six empty prescription bottles on the nightstand beside him.
    The morning after the report, Dennis made a point of driving past the condos. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the type to slow down at a crash site in the hope of seeing a little blood or a hand dangling from beneath a tarp. He supposed he just had to know the situation was real, that Andi’s “creature” had truly made the decision to visit, of all places, their quiet little town of Carlton Lakes.
    It was real enough. Yellow police tape had been draped across the condo entrance, and two squad cars were parked in the street. An NBC news van with a satellite dish on the roof was down a little farther, the reporter and his two-man crew having bagels and coffee. A family of four— just like us, Dennis thought with a shudder—was exiting one of the other condos with suitcases in hand. The children looked bewildered, the parents terrified.
    The Jensens watched helplessly as their beloved community dissolved. Handmade signs appeared in storefront windows indicating that business was suspended. Extracurricular activities like aerobics classes for seniors and dance lessons for youngsters were canceled until further notice. The two Albanian brothers who owned the Sunoco station by the highway took to wearing cotton gloves and masks. They asked that people who were paying in cash kindly drop the money into a plastic bag, which was then zipped shut. Credit cards were sanitized with isopropyl alcohol on cosmetic pads. Traffic thinned out on Martin Boulevard, the town’s main artery, and everyone stayed inside on the weekends. No one cut their lawn, and there were no joggers or kids on bicycles. At some houses, mail piled up in the boxes because no one wanted to touch it.
    Chelsea’s principal sent a note home, assuring parents that the staff was taking all necessary precautions to keep the infection out of the school. He included a sheet from the New Jersey Department of Health that gave tips on how to minimize risk of exposure, and another from the CDC on what they knew about the infection so far. Some parents had already pulled their children out anyway; attendance was down about 15 percent. Dennis and Andi debated whether they should do likewise. They felt strongly that education was crucial in a child’s life. Learning the value of routine was also important. Chelsea seemed to be a natural, always going with the flow. They were hesitant to interrupt that.
    Then one of the other students in the school caught it. A fourth-grader: Peter Something-or-other. They’d heard the name before but couldn’t recall it. The family was fairly well known around town, had lived in Carlton through several generations. Because Peter had it, his parents got it. And then some of the others in his class began showing early signs.
    That’s when Dennis and Andi decided to pull Chelsea out. They tried calling the school several times to leave a message on the absentee hotline the following morning, but the line was always busy. In the end the school did the right thing anyway and closed down pending further notice. There was more information on the website, and a prerecorded call was made to every home. There were no more letters, though, because no one wanted to touch a piece of paper that came from inside that building.
    The Jensens prayed hard that Chelsea hadn’t caught it, promising God absolutely anything. They were both Christian, and Andi still went to church fairly regularly. Dennis’s attendance had dwindled to holidays and family occasions such as weddings and christenings. He still