Червона чума

           “Inthemorning,mybrothercametome. IhadgatheredintoahandbagwhatthingsofvalueIpurposedtaking,butwhenIsawhisfaceIknewthathewouldneveraccompanymetotheChemistryBuilding. Theplaguewasonhim. Heintendedshakingmyhand,butIwentbackhurriedlybeforehim. 

           “’Lookatyourselfinthemirror,’Icommanded. 

           “Hedidso,andatsightofhisscarletface,thecolordeepeningashelookedatit,hesankdownnervelesslyinachair. 

           “’MyGod!’hesaid.’I’vegotit.Don’tcomenearme.Iamadeadman.’ 

           “Thentheconvulsionsseizedhim. Hewastwohoursindying,andhewasconscioustothelast,complainingaboutthecoldnessandlossofsensationinhisfeet,hiscalves,histhighs,untilatlastitwashisheartandhewasdead. 

           “ThatwasthewaytheScarletDeathslew. Icaughtupmyhandbagandfled. Thesightsinthestreetswereterrible. Onestumbledonbodieseverywhere.Somewerenotyetdead. Andevenasyoulooked,yousawmensinkdownwiththedeathfasteneduponthem. TherewerenumerousfiresburninginBerkeley,whileOaklandandSanFranciscowereapparentlybeingsweptbyvastconflagrations. Thesmokeoftheburningfilledtheheavens,sothatthemiddaywasasagloomytwilight,and,intheshiftsofwind,sometimesthesunshonethroughdimly,adullredorb. Truly,mygrandsons,itwaslikethelastdaysoftheendoftheworld. 

           “Therewerenumerousstalledmotorcars,showingthatthegasolineandtheenginesuppliesofthegarageshadgivenout.