The Changed (Completed)

Chapter One: Infection

The first infected in my class was Connor Harrison.

Connor and I weren't friends so much as we were acquaintances. Despite our grade being less than one hundred students, we'd never spoken.

He and his friends would sit in the back of the classroom and play games on the laptops instead of working. The group was often disruptive, making jokes at inappropriate times, going to the bathroom to vape, and sleeping through math.

Ironically, Connor's friends made the most jokes about the virus.

NUVID-77 was not funny according to the staff at Norcross High. What had begun as an outbreak on the West Coast had now reached the East. Atlanta was shutting schools and the surrounding cities would follow.

I had been new to Norcross the previous year. My lunch table was made up of students who didn't have anywhere else to sit. Like everyone else, we gossiped about the virus over sloppy joes and milk cartons. It was something to talk about.

It was in chemistry that I heard one of Connor's friends poke fun at him for scratching his arm. I don't remember the exact phrasing, but the punchline was, "It's probably the nucleic virus!" There were a few giggles as most of the boys had been reciting the same for weeks. I thought I heard Connor half-chuckle.

"Connor, honey," Mrs. Langar capped her dry-erase marker, her green eyes twitching, "I'm sending you to the nurse."

There was a chorus of 'oohs' that Mrs. Langer was quick to shut down, "It's probably nothing y'all, but a rash is the first symptom so we have to be careful."

As Connor passed by my desk, I saw the bright red splotches from the hem of his short sleeve shirt to his fingers.

A chorus of panicked chatter broke out across the classroom until Mrs. Langer clapped, "Quiet, please. Everyone line up by the sink to wash your hands."

I was the last in line. I scrubbed my fingers and palms until Mrs. Langer asked me to return to my seat.

Connor didn't return to school.

He was the first to leave, but his friends followed. Norcross was shut down not long after.

The fatality rate was announced: %100, bleakly decorating every news program and headline. The virus killing off teenagers and children at an alarming rate. The president voiced concern that there would be no youth left in America.

I stopped watching the television.

My phone was radio-silent. I texted the few classmates whose numbers I had. A couple responded in the first few days, but eventually, it was a string of blue bubbles with no replies. Social media platforms were an echo of the news. I felt better letting the battery die and shutting the phone in the drawer of my desk.

How I became ill is somewhat of a mystery to me. My mom was so careful, showering when she came home from work while forcing me to stay in my room. I didn't leave the house. The cafes, stores, and restaurants were all closed anyway. Therefore, I thought I'd been spared.

That was until I woke up in the middle of the night, scratching my arm in my sleep until it bled. The rash covered every inch of my flesh, even spreading to my eyes and mouth. I was in too much pain to worry about dying.

When the fever followed, a gaping hole emerged in my memory. I was in a dream-like state. I had nightmares in which I was burned alive like the witches we learned about in history class.

Consciousness was met with my mother pressing cold clothes to my forehead and cheeks. Her breath smelt of coffee as she sang softly to me or whispered again and again, I love you, my Margo, I love you.

Dying wasn't how it'd been described. I didn't see a white light or feel my soul leaving my body. It was more like going to sleep but knowing you wouldn't wake up again.

I suppose my description isn't entirely accurate. However, it's less imaginative than the movies. No one alive can properly describe death as you'd have to be dead to describe it. And I am, very much, alive. 

Hello! My name is Natalie and I am the author of The Changed. I began writing this story in 2017 and never expected the support I received. Now in the midst of working on my new fantasy novel, Questbearer, which you can read on Wattpad today, I've decided to rewrite The Changed. I know many of you fell in love with the first draft of the story. I hope you'll love this updated version just as much. I think it's much improved and I can't wait to share it with you. So, let's begin this adventure a second time. Happy reading!  - N.K Ansley

Questions for the comment section: Does this first chapter remind anyone of their experience with COVID-19? If it's your second time reading, how do you think this first chapter compares to the first chapter of the original draft?