down the hall, a man speaking into a microphone. She pushed open the gymnasium door and saw the room filled with children sitting cross-legged on the floor. The faculty and staff lined the walls. Maddie was toward the front, hunched beside Hannah, the two of them sitting closely together, one blond head and one brown, engrossed in some covert clapping game, completely unaware that the clock had already started ticking on their friendship.
The principal stood at the podium in the front of the room.
“… by the Ohio Department of Health that school will be closing.” He lifted his hand to hush the cheer that went up from the children.
School was closing? Some horrible infection must have gotten loose, like hepatitis or bacterial meningitis. But no one was coughing. No one looked sick. Maybe it was an environmental contaminant, like lead in the water or asbestos coming loose from around the pipes. With a pinch of fear, Ann wondered how many times Maddie drank from the water fountain.
“Your teachers will be handing out a note for you to take home to your parents. When you go back to your classrooms, you’ll need to empty your desks and cubbies. If you need a plastic bag to carry items, let your teacher know. The announcement’s being made on the radio and television, so car riders, your parents should start arriving soon. They’ll have to sign you out first. Listen for your name over the loudspeaker. Bus riders will wait in their classrooms until their buses arrive. For those whose parents are delayed, we’ll be setting up tables in the cafeteria. Now, I want everyone to stand up and, in a quiet, orderly fashion, return to your classrooms. We’ll start with kindergarten first.”
The noise level soared as everyone stirred into motion. Ann looked for Maddie and spotted her in the stream of chattering, laughing children flowing toward the doors. Ann waved.
Maddie pushed closer. She looked excited. “Did you hear, Mom? We don’t have to go to school anymore.”
“I heard.” Ann kept her voice light. What on earth had happened that would prompt the Department of Health to shut down the school?
Hannah pushed Maddie along. “Go.”
Maddie turned and called back to Ann. “You’re coming to get me, right, Mom?”
“I’ll be right there, honey.”
Maddie’s teacher brought up the rear of the line, her face grim. She had Heyjin by one hand and held a sheaf of blue papers in the other. “If you’re not doing anything, Mrs. Brooks, I could use your help getting the children ready.”
“Of course.” It wouldn’t take long to seal up the art room. Ann had already begun putting things away in preparation for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. “What’s going on? Why are they closing the school?”
“Not just this one. All of the schools.”
“What?”
The woman peeled off the top page from the stack she held.
“Here.”
Ann read the sheet and slowed. Sudden coldness flooded her body. Kids swarmed around her, but she didn’t feel them bumping into her. The words on the page swam before her. She saw them clearly printed there, but she had to read them twice before the meaning sank in. “We’re in Phase Five now?”
“That’s right.”
Ann stared at her. So the clusters of flu cases had multiplied to the extent that they were threatening to sweep across entire communities. That meant H5N1 had mutated again, cleverly adapting itself to jump more easily from human to human. She had the sensation of standing on a cliff again, looking down into an eternal unknown. “When did this happen?”
“An hour ago.” She clasped Heyjin’s hand again, looked down at her, and shook her head. “Ironic, isn’t it? She traveled all that way to get here, but in the end, it didn’t matter a damn.”
Heyjin glanced up at her teacher and then looked to Ann. The triumph in the child’s eyes was unmistakable.
TEXT OF SPEECH GIVEN BY
DR. NIGEL ATWANA ,
WHO DIRECTOR-GENERAL,
WHO HEADQUARTERS,
GENEVA,
The principal stood at the podium in the front of the room.
“… by the Ohio Department of Health that school will be closing.” He lifted his hand to hush the cheer that went up from the children.
School was closing? Some horrible infection must have gotten loose, like hepatitis or bacterial meningitis. But no one was coughing. No one looked sick. Maybe it was an environmental contaminant, like lead in the water or asbestos coming loose from around the pipes. With a pinch of fear, Ann wondered how many times Maddie drank from the water fountain.
“Your teachers will be handing out a note for you to take home to your parents. When you go back to your classrooms, you’ll need to empty your desks and cubbies. If you need a plastic bag to carry items, let your teacher know. The announcement’s being made on the radio and television, so car riders, your parents should start arriving soon. They’ll have to sign you out first. Listen for your name over the loudspeaker. Bus riders will wait in their classrooms until their buses arrive. For those whose parents are delayed, we’ll be setting up tables in the cafeteria. Now, I want everyone to stand up and, in a quiet, orderly fashion, return to your classrooms. We’ll start with kindergarten first.”
The noise level soared as everyone stirred into motion. Ann looked for Maddie and spotted her in the stream of chattering, laughing children flowing toward the doors. Ann waved.
Maddie pushed closer. She looked excited. “Did you hear, Mom? We don’t have to go to school anymore.”
“I heard.” Ann kept her voice light. What on earth had happened that would prompt the Department of Health to shut down the school?
Hannah pushed Maddie along. “Go.”
Maddie turned and called back to Ann. “You’re coming to get me, right, Mom?”
“I’ll be right there, honey.”
Maddie’s teacher brought up the rear of the line, her face grim. She had Heyjin by one hand and held a sheaf of blue papers in the other. “If you’re not doing anything, Mrs. Brooks, I could use your help getting the children ready.”
“Of course.” It wouldn’t take long to seal up the art room. Ann had already begun putting things away in preparation for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. “What’s going on? Why are they closing the school?”
“Not just this one. All of the schools.”
“What?”
The woman peeled off the top page from the stack she held.
“Here.”
Ann read the sheet and slowed. Sudden coldness flooded her body. Kids swarmed around her, but she didn’t feel them bumping into her. The words on the page swam before her. She saw them clearly printed there, but she had to read them twice before the meaning sank in. “We’re in Phase Five now?”
“That’s right.”
Ann stared at her. So the clusters of flu cases had multiplied to the extent that they were threatening to sweep across entire communities. That meant H5N1 had mutated again, cleverly adapting itself to jump more easily from human to human. She had the sensation of standing on a cliff again, looking down into an eternal unknown. “When did this happen?”
“An hour ago.” She clasped Heyjin’s hand again, looked down at her, and shook her head. “Ironic, isn’t it? She traveled all that way to get here, but in the end, it didn’t matter a damn.”
Heyjin glanced up at her teacher and then looked to Ann. The triumph in the child’s eyes was unmistakable.
TEXT OF SPEECH GIVEN BY
DR. NIGEL ATWANA ,
WHO DIRECTOR-GENERAL,
WHO HEADQUARTERS,
GENEVA,
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