Third day in a row that someone came through the hospital spewing black goo out of them, which led to both sickness and worry infecting more doctors and nurses. No one knew what this was or what was causing it. The patients that were vomiting the substance had crazy fevers, pains in their abdomens, and other rumored symptoms I hadn't really gotten to from the first floor. Tessa, my doctor friend, was hard at work and couldn't really see me other than lunch breaks-if she had them.

Today she texted me from upstairs and told me to meet her downstairs to get lunch at some fancy restaurant she loved. She'd pay. And I love free food.

"Frankie, I'm going crazy." She groaned as she drove us down the busy streets, her foot jumping to the break as some car randomly cut us off. "Asshole!" She growled, then took a deep breath. "I'm going for a massage this Sunday. This weird virus has me stressed out. I'm paranoid too. That I'm going to get it and help spread it."

"Tess, chill. Yes, it's freaky and we don't know where it's coming from. But this happens every time a new strain of the flu comes out or something, right? You doctors will do your doctoring shit and figure it out." I was freaked out too. The idea that 34 people have already died from this across the state alone. And cases were popping up all over the country. I saw reports of it on the news my mom and I watched every night.

"I just need some Sauvignon blanc and some Tessa time." She sighed, hitting her turn signal to parallel park by the restaurant.

During lunch, I ate very little. My appetite wasn't coming back due to the visions of sick patients busting through the ER. I didn't even have to touch them or deal with them, but the sickness still scared me. I already dealt with my mother, and I knew her immune system was week due to her disease.

If I carried whatever this virus was back home, she was doomed. There was no way she wouldn't get sick. As much of a burden as she was sometimes, I couldn't give up on her. Even if she didn't know who I was or love me, the memories I held as a child reminded me I had to care for her.

Though sometimes I didn't return home when I should because I could hardly stand to be around her. Being with her hurt. She wasn't my mother anymore, not mentally.

I shook my head from those thoughts and smiling at our red-headed waitress as she took our order. Tessa ordered wine, much to my dismay.

"I'm not getting drunk, I just need something to relax before work." She told me, folding her arms under her chest. "I'm paying for your food anyway so shush."

And I did. I knew Tessa was responsible, if not a little weird at sometimes.

Once lunch was over, I drove Tessa's car back to the hospital because I didn't want to even chance it with her driving. She wasn't drunk, just as she said, but I was still wary about it.

We had only just entered the ER when I heard screaming. Shrieking. Oh god. The scene in front of me had me take a small step back toward the exit but Tessa jumped into action. She grabbed what she needed and ran to help to others with the two children being rolled away as they were violently getting sick. The same wet blackness hitting the polished, white tile floor of the ER.