The End of October

by Lawrence Wright

Ebola was not airborne. It only spread through contact with bodily fluids—sex, kissing, touching, and, especially, caring for the sick and the dead. It was a disease that specifically targeted love and compassion.

The silence was broken by a loud sneeze. Everyone gasped. “It’s allergies,” the agency man said defensively.

“Is aspirin okay?” “Absolutely not!” Bartlett said, startling everyone. “This is a hemorrhagic disease. You can’t take anything that will thin your blood. No Aleve, Advil, Midol, Motrin, Percodan, Alka-Seltzer, Bufferin—a good rule of thumb is just don’t take anything that makes you feel better.” It was such a Bartlett thing to say. “Tylenol is okay,” she conceded.

She also wondered if they knew or cared whether they might be taking a chance for life away from someone more useful—a nurse, a cop, a pregnant mother. Or was this just the way it was going to be—the powerful, the rich, and the celebrated would be saved. She realized she was being naive. Of course this was how it was bound to be. This is the country we’ve become.