by David Staiger

Dr Nores emerged from the isolation lab exhausted, relieved, elated.

She’d dismissed her assistant four hours ago, ostensibly to sleep. This strain had been the most virulent they’d ever encountered. It spread rapidly, killed surely. Combating it had taken every
bit of focus and ingenuity.

But the vaccine worked. She knew that with professional—and personal—confidence. Ethics be damned. Just as well that Rebecca had not been there to witness.

52 hours.

With the guidelines issued, the world would be fine. Masks, distancing, travel bans. Surely civilisation had cherished a weekend off.

But why wasn’t anyone answering the phone?

David Staiger

David is an emerging fiction author, always on the lookout for new opportunities to expand his writing. His previous work has been featured in Festival of Fear from Black Ink fiction, and Year Four from Black Hare Press.