She was contagious the entire length of her illness.
Soon others fell sick with the virus—those who’d sat beside her in the waiting room at her physician’s office, the doctors themselves, the technicians who ran her lab results, the ambulance workers who had rushed her to the hospital that one last time. Each person thought it was just a little cold, or they were feeling rundown, under the weather, and they managed to transmit the disease to hundreds—no, thousands—before anyone realized an epidemic was underway. The few who didn’t catch it nursed those who did. Soon the hospitals were overwhelmed, and people were told to stay at home no matter how sick they were. Then the morgues grew crowded, and no one came to retrieve the corpses of those who died. Rioting began, and looting.