Free Influenza: Viral Virulence by Steven Ohliger Page A

settle into their chairs. When the class bell rang, the professor stood up and started passing out the tests.
    Someone to the far left of Michael suddenly sneezed. Michael was grateful that the sneeze had come from the other side of the room.
    The professor stopped handing out tests. He looked disapprovingly at the student who had just sneezed. “Miss Anderson, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said sternly.
    “No, please. I’m fine,” a weak voice protested. “It’s just seasonal allergies. I get them every year.”
    He spoke sternly. “Miss Anderson, you must have read the signs on the door. I have to insist that you leave. A makeup test will be scheduled.”
    “But…”
    “Now, Miss Anderson!” he said even louder. “Or I will give you a zero on this test, and you will not be able to retake it.”
    Sarah Anderson slowly got up, and everyone in the class watched as she walked meekly to the doorway. She hesitated and looked back at the class. Michael could see that her eyes and nose looked red. Then she turned and left the room silently.
    “Anyone else not feeling well?” the professor asked, scanning the class.
    No one answered.
    “Good.” Once again he started handing out the tests and talking at the same time. “If I find out some of you are not feeling well, you will receive zeroes on your tests without the opportunity to retake them…unless you leave now.”
    Two more students got up and hurried out of the classroom. The professor didn’t look up at all; he just continued passing out the exams.
    Michael finished his test quickly. He felt good enough about his answers that he didn’t bother going over the questions again. He was confident he had passed. Usually, he reviewed his answers to ensure that he got the best grade he could. But today, he just wanted to get out of there, so he handed in his test and left.
    Once out of the classroom, he mentally checked “test” off the list he had made in his head early this morning. Okay, next priority. He was scheduled to work at the pharmacy from noon to five. He was hoping Wilbur would let him off a few minutes early today so he could stop by and get his pickup truck. He felt trapped without a vehicle, and he didn’t want to keep on borrowing Brian’s car. Whether Wilbur would let him leave work early would largely depend on how busy the pharmacy was. Being Monday, it would probably be busy. He might have to put off getting his truck until tomorrow. He hoped Gary wouldn’t mind babysitting it for one more day.
    Michael walked back to his apartment and got something to eat. Then he walked the few blocks to the pharmacy. He swung open the glass entrance door, and Janice was standing in front of him, blocking his way.
    She was Wilbur’s front cashier, a very pleasant woman who had worked for Wilbur for many years. She was always nice to Michael, and they had a good rapport. Janice was in her forties, married, but had no children. Michael felt that she regretted not having children, because she was always mothering him. He didn’t mind, and in fact, he liked the attention since his own mother was far away.
    Now, for some unknown reason, Janice was standing directly in front of him. He couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing a blue surgical mask.
    “Good afternoon, Michael,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the mask. She promptly held out her hand with a new, unused mask. The strap dangled down between her fingers. “Wilbur wants everyone in the store to wear one of these.”
    Michael took the mask and put it on. He thanked her and made his way to the back of the store where the pharmacy was located. He noticed from being in many pharmacy stores that the pharmacy department was usually located in the back for security purposes. It was supposed to be a deterrent to robbers, but from what Michael had heard, a drug-crazed addict usually didn’t care how far he had to walk to get to the pharmacy.
    Reaching the back wall of the