Anna is in bad shape. She’s running a high fever and coughing like hell. It looks like influenza. She won’t consider it.
Has a new strain evolved? Are we going to go through this again?
I’ve called the doctors who used to help the LES DIY, but none of them pick up or call back. Maybe they’re tied up.
I telephoned Mark’s friends—hoping and presuming they haven’t been reading this thing—to see if they can get me some genuine Relenza. I didn’t mention that they owe me for having sullied my name and computer with their (alleged) schemes. The group leader said Mark joined a new crowd. Then came a promising torrent of slick doubletalk.
I had to tell him I’d kill anyone who furnished bogus pharmaceuticals to the woman I love. He seemed to admire my attitude. Here’s hoping.