Featured Story

I thought the masks were terrifying: big circular filters near the mouth, a clear plastic visor shielding the eyes, heavy back rubber to fit the contours of a human face, and thick straps to lock it into place on your head. We found the masks in the attic, a box packed with them. I pulled one out and gave it to Simon. I was reminded of the biohazard thrillers my mother liked to watch late at night, after I was tucked into bed. All the movies shared the same plot where a group of characters were in danger, but a few managed to solve the puzzles of some crazy lone madman in a prescribed amount of time. I was terrified of the situations despite finding the formula silly.

Simon slipped the mask over his head, tufts of yellow hair sticking out around the rubber. In our thriller movie, the good characters wore the scary gear (this was our gimmick). And the fires were nothing like a single madman, but we were certainly all in danger.

Riding our bikes through the empty streets was difficult due to the masks. It was harder to breathe and nearly impossible to see. You had to point your face at everything you wanted to look at. Dust covered everything.