Ricky coughed. It was small, barely audible in the classroom among the bustling noises of the other kids at play. In fact, when he'd finish smearing the small swab of saliva that had fallen on the sheet in front of him, he'd realized no one had noticed. No one other than Ms. Brown of course. She was known to have a penchant for catching things out of the ordinary in her class.

She made her way over to Ricky and beamed him a soft smile before kneeling beside his desk. Ricky felt her gentle hand on his head and let her rub at his hair.

"You okay, Ricky? You haven't caught a cold now have you?" She pressed a warm hand against his forehead, again. There was some ambient heat, possibly from the hot sun outside. Ricky shook his head.

"No Ms. Brown... I'm okay. It just tickles." Ricky said, pointing toward his throat.

"Tickles, huh? Would you like some water?" She stood up assuming he’d say yes but Ricky, once again, shook his head.

"I'll be okay. Thank you." He then picked the paper off his desk and held it up to her to take. "I'm done with the picture."

"Oh let me see." She said as she held it into the light. There on the page was an image of a police officer with black hair and standing by a police vehicle, each image filled in with their perspective NYPD official colors. It was surprising at times the attention to detail kids gave to art. "It's beautiful Ricky. Good job. Go ahead and join the others."

After Ricky had run off to play, she tacked the drawing on the wall with the rest, the different pieces of art depicting their parents and the jobs they held. Even at their young age and the apparent lack of skill Ms. Brown was proud. There was Mary, standing next to a woman donning a business suit and briefcase, Kyle and his father the fireman and the burning house in the background, Christopher and what looked to be the spitting image of a postman and a large mailbox. There was even a small family of doctors on the wall.

She sat back on her desk and opening one of the drawers she picked out a chocolate bar she had hidden inside. She broke open the wrapper, tore off a small piece of chocolate and tossed it into into her mouth.



"Please, this is unnecessary. I feel fine. It's just a mild headache." Amy asserted.

Amy Brown pleaded with the men and women surrounding her, but her claims were met with no avail. They worked feverishly applying tubes with unknown liquids and diodes attached to medical equipment. Some began to whisper to each other, their hands moving about frantically as they tried to come to an agreement over something Amy had no say in... even if it concerned her life.

She'd checked herself in late Friday night when she found herself in great pain and her head wracked with an unforgiving migraine. However, after almost 24 hours in the same bed and no green light to leave, she'd become extremely anxious and was on the verge of an outburst. Whatever was going on with her they were hard pressed to share, and even as she protested to them that she hadn't expected to stay so long and hadn't informed the school she'd be absent, the nurses paid her no heed. At this point she couldn't even tell if anyone was looking for her. The various staff had long since relinquished her of any belongings including her cellphone and her purse. Lord knew where they stashed it but they hadn't returned any of her things since they disappeared.

"What is going on? Why am I being kept in here like this and why won't anyone talk to me?!" Amy demanded.

"Please just calm down."

A response. The first she'd heard since they put her under the night before. Maybe it was because they were growing tired of her constant bickering, or perhaps because all the other men and women had left the room and she hadn't noticed. The only one who remained by her bedside was a woman about the same age as herself. She wasn't looking at her but at some image on a monitor that'd been turned away from Amy. She couldn't tell if the woman was a nurse or doctor, and if what she could see was good or bad news. The mask and goggles did well to hide whatever facial expressions she was making, and the rest of the full orange suit did well to protect the nurse from whatever it was everyone was so afraid of.

"Please... tell me what's going on? What is wrong with me?" Amy said, suppressing the boiling anger she felt.

There was a short pause of silence as the nurse turned from the monitor to look at Amy. As they stared at each other, Amy could see something in her eyes. Pity? It was as if she was trying to make a decision, whether to tell the confused woman in the bed the truth or perhaps, being ignorant to the truth was the better route to go.

"How do you feel?"

"I AM FINE." Amy fumed, emphasizing each word as if she believed them herself. She was smarter than that. She knew something was wrong otherwise she would be home already.

"But you're not..." The nurse made her way over to the only window in the room. Amy had always assumed that it opened up to the outside but for whatever reason, the curtains were always closed. However, as the woman wrapped her fingers around the cloth and slowly began to pull them back, a dark realization set in. "You're not fine Amy... and neither are they."

Just outside the window were rows upon rows of beds, each one accompanied by an individual and all of them just as lost as she was. There among the crowd lay Ricky, his motionless body resting peacefully in a room full of chaos.



“Story outfront tonight --” reported the anchor woman on the television. “Drugs known as Bath Salts being blamed for a gruesome scene in New York City. This is a naked man, shutdown by police, because he was nodding another man’s face. Obviously that sounds horrific and it is. I wanna warn you that the pictures we are about to show you are very disturbing.”

The image of the anchor-woman slides away as new images, of the gruesome scene, are revealed. Though not very up close, clearly one could see two half-blurred naked bodies sprawled on the bloody stained concrete. And the feet of several uniformed police officers surveying the scene. A title box -- ‘Bath Salts’ Blamed For Face-Eating Attack -- slides across the bottom of the screen, disappearing behind the Live CNN logo. “31-year-old Eddy Eugene, was described to be in a zombie like state when he was caught by police.” A mug shot of the man is pin on the upper left side of the screen, while the news continues to show another angle of the Pier 51 playground on the Hudson River Greenway, where the incident occurred.

The woman’s face once again fills the screen, “Brian Walker, president of the New York fraternal order of police, suspects Eugene was under the influence of so called bath salts, which are sold as cocaine substitute or synthetic LSD. When he was found...ah, what he had done to this man’s face, ah,...victim was 65-years-old homeless man.” The anchor woman struggled with what she was reporting, as she attempted to describe images she had seen but were not going to be shown to the public. “Truly horrific, apparently all that is left is his goatee, ah, his eyeballs were gone, his face,” she used her hands and cringe as she described the memory, “it is, it is unbelievable.”

She continued to speak. “Dr. Sophy Brimnes is a psychiatrist at the Los Angeles county department of children and family services, and she’s outfront now.” The image splits and the face of both woman are lined up side by side. “Dr. Brimnes, you ever heard of anything like this. I mean it’s awful to even talk about some of the...the things I just said that this man did to his victim’s face.”

There was a moment of silence, due to the signal delay between the two sister stations, before the psychiatrist replied.

“Absolutely, there are many reactions that your brain can have when you putting in a substance such as this.” She tilted her head to the side as she explained in layman's terms the effects of these drugs on the brain. “This are very cocaine like substances that will have a very aggressive reaction within your brain, and the behavior that comes out of that could be anything from aggression to ripping off basically someone’s face. Severe, severe reactions.” And she added, “And they are not able to be tested, these drugs, so we are putting in substances into our body that we don’t know what is going to happen when we do that.”

“So, when we use the name Bath Salts, which I guess is the street name, what would be in it? You said a little bit cocaine like. What’s really in, quote unquote bath salts, does it varied every single concoction?” The anchor-woman asked.

“Well, that’s a really great question, because the bottom line is these are not substances that have been properly studied. And so we don’t really know what’s in them. We just see the kind of reactions, and can kind of guess what chemicals in the brain they reacting with and then hence the behavior. So that’s why the studies need to be done. We can make the testing that needs to be in place to be able to see if people have taken these or not when they behaving this way. Right now, we can do a test and not even know if they’ve taken them.”

“My understanding is that Eugene had been in some sort of music festival. The police there had said that these bath salts were sort of something people were doing. Is this something that’s spreading, that you're hearing more and more about? I mean I’m just thinking back to the days when, you know meth and meth-head were just sort of an occasional story you heard coming out of the Midwest, and then all of a sudden became a national crisis.”

“Absolutely, we are hearing more and more about incidents with these types of issues. They out there. I think there is going to be a ban, if there isn’t already, in the availability of them until the studies can be done and tests can be develop. But yes, we’re hearing more about it.”

“Thank you Dr. Brimnes.” The anchor-woman said concluding. Music played in the background “We’ll be right back…” The words Loren Burn, OutFront News filled the screen.

The muted image of anchor woman Loren Burn, showed on the television. The caption read --- Police Fear LSD, Bath Salt" Trend --- and in smaller font below that it said --- Face-eating attack blamed on drug use --- Someone raised the volume:

"The gruesome face eating attack in New York could be part of a trend." Loren said. "An example of something large and much more dangerous. NYPD say they've seen similar cases lately of people behaving strangely and showing what appears to be superhuman strength."

The head shot of a young color man popped on the screen. "Over the weekend Eddy Eugene attacked a 65-years-old homeless man, chewing off most of his face. Police say he was probably high on a drug known as bath salt. We have to warn you now we have new pictures in tonight. They are disturbing."

The image changed once again, revealing the naked body of Eugene faced down on the bloody concrete, a blurry dot covered the private parts. Not too far, alongside the body, was the body of the homeless man curled up like a baby, seemingly dead, and another blurry dot, but this one covered the man's half eaten head.

"Police say Eugene was naked, that he was growling like an animal. He was shot and killed by police when he refused to stop, but it took multiple shots. That's leading to the descriptions of what seems to be superhuman strength…."

Someone changed the channel to NY1 News -- Adam Christ, NY1's health reporter was speaking.

"…That frightening level of reaction is happening here, in our own backyard. There are at least 102 reported cases in NYC alone. This morning, a spokeswoman for the CDC said that the U.S. is likely to see more cases."

The camera expanded and seated alongside Adam were a blond-hair woman sporting a bob cut, and a clean cut, glasses wearing well-dressed man.

"Joining us on this topic is the head of Mount Sanai' Office of Epidemiology and Infection Prevention, Elsie Parks. And Dr. Robert Caraballo, professor of pediatrics and infectious diseases at Mount Sanai Icahn School of Medicine . Thank you both for being here. Let me start with you, Elsie." Adam said, turning now to face the woman. "This year's predominant strain is the H3N2 virus, which caused harsh flu season as recently as two years ago. So why aren't we as protected by the flu shot as most years?"

"This year's influenza season is unprecedented with the number of people catching a flue so early in the season. What we're finding is in the predominant virus -- at least, early on -- it has drifted or become different from what was predicted," Elsie explained. She looked quite calmed and not as alarmed as Adam seem to be about the issue. "By the time it was learned that it had mutated to this extent, it was really too late to change the vaccine. This was figure out around March. That's too late for a vaccine that really comes out in October."

"20 states, 452 cases, 17 death, mostly children and the elderly. The summary of the CDC's weekly report says more states will likely fall into that high activity category soon and rather bluntly advises vaccination. Knowing what we know how effective is getting vaccinated now, Robert?"

"If you have not been vaccinated yet this season, get vaccinated now. You'll be hard-pressed to find a medical professional, who will say skip it when it comes to getting a shot because some coverage is better than no coverage. Anyone getting a shot now are in essence protecting those that are vulnerable..."




The alarm jolted Sylvie awake. She sat up, gasping for breath. She had been dreaming, but she didn't remember the dream. She had a vague notion that it had something to do with her father, but she couldn't be sure. It probably had to do with him. Most of her nightmares did.

Sylvie flopped back down onto her bed and lay there despite the howling alarm. Long moments passed while the alarm automatically increased volume. Finally she reached over and slapped it, hard. The alarm's cry finally ceased, allowing her a few more moments in bed. Another person might have been tempted to roll over and return to sleep, but that wasn't Sylvie. All she had needed was the jolt to wakefulness; after that, she was good to go.

She finally sat up, rubbing her face. She glanced out the window, to get a feel for what the day was going to be like. Of course, bright sky or pouring rain, it made no difference. She was going to school. It didn't mean she was looking forward to it, though, and when she looked outside and saw that the day promised to be cold and wet, she gave a silent protest to the powers that be. It was still dark outside, but from what she could see, it looked cold with a minor drizzle. Not a good outcast for a Monday morning.

For a moment she allowed herself to drift back to her dream. Her recollections were vague at best, but she was reasonably sure that she'd been dreaming about that awful day from a year ago when she had hidden from her mother, the day her comatose father was unplugged and killed.

The notion that she had done so -- that she had relived the deep guilt that still festered within her -- was one of the hardest things for her to handle. She dreamed of it with a frequency that was almost sickening. She did her best to brush away all recollection of it, yet that never seemed to work for very long.

The sixteen-year-old rolled out of bed and stretched. She then crossed her room to the hallway and walked to the bathroom. The door was ajar. She quickly relief herself of the pressure in her bladder and jumped in the shower soon after. Minutes later she had toweled herself off and had begun to dress for school.

Sylvie heard the rest of the house start to wake up. She heard the soft steps of her brothers running back and forth down the hall. And someone had turned on the television in the living room, probably Lucas, as he usually liked to watch cartoon network. As she stepped out into the hallway she could smell breakfast -- this also meant Adele was up.

She walked into the kitchen checking the messages on her cellphone. Already, her best friend had texted her. She replied and put down the phone on the kitchen table. Adele was there, making breakfast. She said good morning and walked to the cupboard to grab a tall glass, then over to the refrigerator. She served herself some orange juice before saying, "I have a study group after school today I can't pick up the twins, Mom."