Fever Season by Eric Zweig Page B

bed.
    â€œI’ll bring you some soup,” she told him. “You need to eat to get your strength back.”
    It was pea soup this time. Thick and tasty, but a little too salty. When David was done, he asked the woman if he could see his sister.
    â€œThe girls are up on the third floor. I don’t think you’re ready for the stairs yet. Perhaps she’s well enough to come down here, though. I’ll have to go and see. What’s your sister’s name?”
    â€œAlice. Alice Saifert.”
    â€œAlice Saifert,” the woman repeated. “I’ll go and find out.”
    David fell asleep again after the old woman left. When he woke up a while later, the other woman was back again. She was standing at the end of his bed with a man beside her.
    â€œMy name is Mrs. Freedman,” the woman said. “Do you remember me?”
    David nodded. “From last night.”
    â€œThis is Mr. Rosen. He’s here to talk to you.”
    David sat up slowly. Mrs. Freedman propped an extra pillow behind him so he could sit more comfortably.
    â€œI’m afraid I’ve got some very bad news for you,” Mr. Rosen said.
    David didn’t understand right away. Then it began to dawn on him. “You mean … Alice …” He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest.
    Mr. Rosen bobbed his head sadly. “I’m sorry, David. Your sister was just too sick. Nobody could have helped her.”
    David sat on his bed with a blank look on his face.
    â€œIt’s all right if you want to cry,” Mrs. Freedman said.
    David didn’t cry. He just stared straight ahead. Then he fixed his eyes on Mr. Rosen. “I want to go home. I want to see my mother.” He struggled to his feet. “Where’s my mother? I want to see her. I want to go home! I want to see my mother! Someone take me home! Right now!”
    He tried to walk toward the door across the room, but there was no way he could make it. Mrs. Freedman put her arms around his shoulders. He was much too weak to put up a struggle as she guided him gently back to his bed.
    There was no easy way to say the rest, so Mr. Rosen came straight out with it. “We can’t take you home, David. Your mother’s dead, too.”
    This time he couldn’t hold back his tears.

C HAPTER 10
    It was another two weeks before David was on his feet again. During that time, the war finally ended. The Armistice was announced at 11:00 a.m. on November 11, 1918. The Spanish Flu epidemic seemed to be over, too. It wasn’t gone completely, but the worst of it had definitely passed. Once the constant fear was over, it was amazing how quickly people began to forget about it. So many people had lost their lives since the war started in 1914, but the killing and the dying were finished now. People needed to get on with their lives.
    David wasn’t ready to forget. Not yet. Maybe never. He wanted to know what had happened. How had he gotten to the Montefiore Home?
    â€œIt was Abe Salutin,” Mrs. Freedman told him.
    â€œMr. Salutin? From the hat factory?”
    â€œThat’s right. He was worried when your mother didn’t show up for work. She hadn’t even called the factory, so he feared the worst. When he tried to telephone your mother, no one answered. So he called the Home. He knew we had volunteers visiting homes, helping to care for people who were sick.”
    Mrs. Freedman didn’t tell David everything. He didn’t need to know all the details. It had been a Saturday when he and Alice first got sick. It was Monday afternoon before Mr. Salutin even knew to be worried, and Tuesday before he thought to call the Home. Alice was already dead when the Montefiore volunteers got to their flat on Tuesday afternoon. She was lying in bed with their mother, who was still alive but barely conscious. It was obvious she was very sick. Her lips were already turning blue, and she was wet with sweat from her high