Fatal

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It had started with a sore throat.

Nattie Serwanga remembered the exact moment. She had been having dinner with her husband, Eli, when some green beans hurt her going down. At the time, the two of them were talking about whether Nadine would be a better choice to name their daughter than Kolette. The discomfort was the beginning of a cold, she thought. Nothing more.

But despite treatment from the doctors in the clinic, the sore throat had gotten progressively worse. Now, nine days after that first scratchy pain, Nattie knew she was sick — really sick. The pounding headache told her so. So did the chills and the sweats and the fiery swelling in her throat that the antibiotics had done nothing to help. And beginning at three this morning, there was the cough.

Across the raised glass counter, the kids from the hospital day-care center were lined up for lunch. Chicken nuggets and spaghetti. Pudding for dessert.

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