CHARLES REACHED THE broad boulevard. There was a large cafe just across from him, its front window caved in by a large truck. He stumbled and almost fell as he stepped from the curb.
“Look at me, nervous as a cat.”
He was trembling noticeably as he started across the street.
“I—” He started to say something, to think something. But some hidden part of his mind clamped down, obscuring the thought, rejecting the concept.
The tremor turned to a shake before he reached the far curb, and the first burst of wild pain came as he laid his shoulder against the door to the restaurant. This was the way the plague began, but—His mind quickly repressed the idea. It couldn’t be the plague. He was immune!
Another burst of pulsating, shattering pain crashed through his body, tearing down the defenses
