The Cure for Positivity

By Margaret Elson

In a time of uncertainty when society is on the brink of downfall due to a plague that affects positive and negative blood types differently, Mae Elwood is left alone in a fight for survival. That is, until she meets a stranger who could change everything for her by helping her discover a newfound hope for finding her loved ones. With this, she discovers hope in saving humanity from the blood virus as well, the only trick is surviving those who want to take this cure from her. She must discover the true meaning of trust, love, and sacrifice if she is going to make it in this new world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543981759

Book preview

Copyright © 2019

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-1-54398-174-2 (print)

ISBN 978-1-54398-175-9 (eBook)

To my family,

for not knowing I wrote a book but inspiring it nevertheless.

"Let me die before the ones I love,

for losing them first would kill me twice."

–Atticus

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

1

Ms. Elwood!

I wake with a start to see a lecture hall of college students turned to stare at me. I sit up, trying to make it seem like I wasn’t just asleep, but I get the feeling it was obvious from the snickers I hear around the room. Could you please tell us what the answer is, if you can stay awake for long enough? the professor asks.

Um . . . I look to my right and see my best friend, Bea, wearing a smirk as she slides her notebook onto her lap so that I can see. Yes, Y equals negative X over one plus five. There is a silence and the old woman rolls her eyes, returning to the board to write out the answer.

And Beatrice, keep your notebook on your desk, the professor adds, her back still facing us. Bea and I start to giggle but stifle ourselves to keep from getting into more trouble.

Mae, you’ve really gotta start taking your runs a little easier in the mornings, you practically fall asleep in this class every day, Bea whispers.

I don’t think it’s the workouts that are making me fall asleep, I reply, nodding my head in the professor’s direction. But Bea is right; my older sister Kat has always been an incredible athlete. And with our new fitness watches, we can see how much the other works out throughout the day, making our already competitive nature live on even though she and my other sister live at home in Cincinnati, Ohio, and I’m hundreds of miles away at Brown.

When the class ends, Bea and I sneak out before we can get another death glare from our professor. Ugh . . . that was the worst, I yawn, dramatically stretching my arms once we are outside and walking down the stone steps of the lecture hall.

Bea shakes her head at me and laughs, How would you know? You slept through the whole thing. I shrug my shoulders, confident I haven’t missed much, and check my phone.

I’ve got a text from Dean, a new Instagram follower, and a snap from Kat, but I stop when I see a CNN breaking news report titled, Blood Virus Released from the CDC and What This Could Mean for the Rest of Us. Oh God, they make news reports sound so dramatic these days.

Hey, I’m late to Spanish, I’ll catch up with you later, Bea says, taking her eyes off her own phone, and I wave before she jogs off in the opposite direction towards the language building.

While I’m scrolling through the news report, a notification from American Airlines appears at the top of my screen. Check in for your flight later today from Providence to Cincinnati, it reads. That’s weird; I don’t have a flight home today. Thanksgiving break isn’t for another three weeks. Suddenly my phone begins to ring and the screen changes to a picture of my dad and me smiling at my high school graduation. I slide the arrow to the right and answer. Dad, is everyone OK? Why did you buy me a flight home for tonight? I say, lifting my phone to my ear.

Hey sweetie, he says, his tone a little more off than usual. Everything is fine, but something happened at the CDC and I want you to come home just in case something bigger comes of it.

This isn’t the first time I have come home because my parents are afraid that something may cause the end of the world. Last year it was Zika virus and the year before that it was swine flu. Usually I’m always excited to come home and see my family, and of course Dean, but later this week I have a huge engineering midterm. Dad, I can’t do this again. You know I’m always a fan of coming home, but I have a crazy week ahead of me. I’m sure everything’s fine and the CDC is working it out right now.

There is a long pause after I speak, and I wonder if we lost connection. Mae, he says finally, speaking with more severity than I even thought possible for him. You need to come home now . . . this time it’s different. I frown, throwing my bag on the floor as I walk into my dorm room. I consider trying to argue with him more, but his voice scares me and eventually I sigh, OK, I’ll see you in a few hours. I hang up on him to take an extra look at the news report and begin packing my bag. I’ll only be gone a couple days; I won’t need much.

A few hours later, I am at my gate in the airport, waiting to board. I try to flip through the pages of a textbook, but my mind keeps wandering back to my odd phone call with my dad earlier. He has never been a secretive man, and it’s very unlike him to be so serious with Kat, Nina, or me. But just then, when I am lost in thought, the sitcom that is playing on the TV above my head switches to the news. The reporter explains that an emergency curfew has been put on the state of Georgia, and advises everyone to stay away from those with a positive blood type. I guess whatever the blood virus’ symptoms are, it’s not good for people with a positive blood type. The people waiting to board the plane around me look up to see the news report as well and then begin to look at each other suspiciously, unsure of who has positive blood and who doesn’t. I have no idea what type I am, but I decide to put my book away and stay attentive anyway; maybe my father was right.

The rest of the flight carries on as normal, but when we land and I walk off the plane, I am greeted with more news reports about the goings-on in Georgia. Atlanta is having riots because of the virus spreading, and it resembles a horror movie. The rest of the passengers’ eyes widen as they walk into the gate and see the report scroll by, but I don’t spend too much time looking at the TV screen. I quickly make my way around the suitcases and past the slow walkers, through the terminal, and find my family waiting at the welcome gate.

They look very serious. I have only been gone for a month, so there isn’t much time for hugs and kisses when I get to them. My father simply kisses my forehead and grabs my suitcase, Nina and Kat each loop an arm through mine, and my mother leads Sam, our chocolate lab puppy, through the airport. Only once we are in the car does it finally feel like there is enough time to breathe. What’s going on? I ask.

My father is going twenty miles per hour over the speed limit, which is unusual for his typically cautious behavior. Blood virus, it’s a disease that gets into your bloodstream. When he begins the explanation, I perk up a little bit to listen more. This is already very different from the other things that they brought me home for. My father is a doctor, but not just any doctor—he is a hematologist, otherwise known as a blood doctor. He knows what this disease is and what it can do. Worry starts to fill my mind as he continues.

It’s a mutated form of the rabies virus, but worse. The CDC was working with it to potentially use as a cure for some other disease, but they didn’t realize that it affects blood types differently. People with negative blood types are immune to the symptoms, but positive people turn into rabid animals, practically losing all sense of themselves. And not only that, it is an airborne disease, so no one is safe from it. As he speaks, the speedometer needle starts to tick higher and higher until my mother puts a hand on his arm, calming him, and we drop to a more reasonable speed.

Except us. We are safe, my mother adds. We all have negative blood and we have been preparing for this for a long time. I have so much confidence in all of you. She moves her hand from my father’s arm and reaches back to give my knee a light squeeze, winking at Kat, whose tan coloring has seeped from her face.

The rest of the car ride back to our house is a little more relaxed, but the anxious air is still there. I smile as we enter the forest and pull onto the long driveway that leads to our quirky little house at the end of the road. Our property is enormous when including the horse pasture. I can see the outline of the barn in the dark if I squint, but even though it is vast, I know every square inch of it better than I know myself. I’m glad to get out of the car and onto the driveway taking a deep breath of the brisk Midwestern air, watching the last few fireflies light the sky before the winter season closes in. Above my head a few bats fly after one another, disappearing behind the roof of our house, likely fly home to the attic of our barn. My moment in nature is quickly put to a stop by Nina calling from inside the house, Mae, I think you should come see this. I shiver from the cold breeze, grab my bag, and follow her inside.

I walk in to see everyone with their eyes glued to the TV. What’s going— My question fades out when I see what they are looking at. A no-fly alert is flashing across the TV screen; until further notice, no airplanes are permitted to enter the sky. I gasp and clutch the armchair for support, staring at the ground as the what ifs start to fill my mind. I can feel my eyes begin to water until warm hands hold my face. My mom lifts my eyes to reach hers as she pulls me into her. Her usual scent of coffee and lavender washes over me and I stop overthinking everything before I even have a chance to start. I made it in time. I’m home.

When I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, I release my mom to check it. It’s Dean. Dean, I’m home. I got back in enough time, don’t worry, I say quickly.

Oh, thank God you’re safe, he begins, but as he speaks, I watch my father answer his own phone and walk into his office, closing the door behind him. It must be a serious conversation. What blood type are you? Dean asks. I wasn’t originally sure which blood type I am but my mother said we are all negative so I guess I am safe.

I’m negative, you?

What is she Dean? I hear a voice on his end of the phone line say. It’s his twin sister, Lou.

I hear him sigh with relief at what I tell him then he whispers something to Lou. I think I’m positive and so are a couple of my siblings and my dad but my mom, Lou, and a couple of the others are negative… I’m just glad you’ll be OK if it spreads. There is sadness behind his voice. As he speaks, a new video of a man strapped onto a metal table flashes on the news. The man is quite average looking, as if he could be one of my friends’ fathers—other than the fact that some of his veins are very visible from their bright blue coloring and foam is dripping from his mouth. The man is thrashing against the table and screaming. Those must be the symptoms of the blood virus, I glance at Nina and Kat next to me and their faces drain of color. I cover my mouth to keep myself quiet while on the phone with Dean. You’re watching the news, aren’t you? he asks, and when I don’t respond he sighs and continues. Until this gets better, I need you to stay away from me . . . I’m sorry, Mae. Stay safe and know that I love you. I’m about to stop him, but before I can, he hangs up.

No, no, no. I try to call him back over and over again, clutching my phone as if my life depends on it but each call gets denied. When I look up from my phone, the TV screen has changed again: Mandatory blood tests are to be done at every hospital across the country. As we stand there reading it, my father walks out of his office, hanging up the phone.

Girls, we all have to go to the hospital tomorrow to get our blood tested. I will be taking blood there part of the day tomorrow, he says, hesitating. And this is supposed to be a secret, but they are telling all of the doctors and nurses . . . it will be mandatory to get your blood symbol tattooed on the side of your neck. I know how much you hate needles, Mae, so I requested to do your blood work myself. I shiver at the thought; I’ve always freaked around needles. I’ve never thought blood made me squeamish, but every time I get it drawn, I always pass out.

That night I try calling Dean one more time before I fall asleep, and when he rejects it again, I text him. I love you too, we’ll be fine, I type, unsure of what else to say. I get no response.

2

When I wake the next morning, everyone in my family is already up and getting ready. We pile into the car and drive the short twenty minutes to the hospital. The roads are practically empty. Where is everyone? Kat says as we move through streets that are typically busy.

Either at home or the hospital, I’m guessing, my father replies. But I realize he is wrong when we pass the local grocery store. Hundreds of people are running in and out, trying to stock up on food and other supplies. We watch in horror as someone throws a rock through the window.

Soon after we pass the store, we turn onto the street into the hospital, where thousands of people stand in line to get their blood drawn. All of you can come with me into the hospital and I can take your blood first, my dad says, driving past all of the people in line. We do as he says and walk by everyone waiting. Some look nervous, shuffling their personal identity papers, while others seem relaxed and bored. I myself am incredibly nervous. Nina seems to notice my jitters and nudges me. Hey, you’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. It will just be a little prick, she says and pinches me.

Um, ouch, I respond, rubbing my now sensitive arm. Nina and Kat both laugh, trying to lighten my mood, but it’s difficult considering everything that is going on. My mother falls back to walk near us.

Girls, keep your eyes open. It isn’t safe here, she says, not taking her eyes off the crowds of people near the entrance to the hospital. People can get desperate in times of panic and do reckless things. As if I needed more of a reason to be nervous.

A few nurses greet my father and lead him to his room, where one of them takes his blood. His paperwork prints minutes later, confirming he is O negative. The nurse leaves my father to start his shift—beginning with me. Kat grabs my hand and squeezes it so tightly that it hurts, but when she finally releases me from her grip, my father has already taken the blood he needs from my arm. I rub it slowly, frowning, and lean forward resting my elbows on my knees to steady myself. After a while, when all of our blood tests have come back as O negative and I feel well enough to walk, we move down the hall to get our tattoos, where we wait in line until it is finally my turn. I get to my assigned chair and my tattoo artist turns around. She is a young woman, maybe in her thirties, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail that reaches halfway down her ribs, and tattoos that cover her thin arms.

Papers? she says, not looking up from her tools. I hand her my documents and she eyes them momentarily before glancing back at her needle and turning on the machine.

Um . . . I should tell you, I’m really not good with needles and . . . I start to ramble on, but her glare makes me stop. I face the opposite direction and squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the needle. I wince when it touches my skin and consider slapping her away, but after the initial pain, I get used to it. Minutes pass and I feel as though my eyelids may be stuck closed forever because of how tightly they are shut. But then the artist stops and I hear the machine turn off. I open my eyes and look at her, but she’s already holding out a mirror.

Stuck on the right side of my neck, I see a thin,