As the sun descended, the Boardwalk lit up. The stars were gone, and the night brought forward a cloudy horizon.

Paper lanterns hung across the deck, zigzagging down the seven-mile stretch to create a romantic, summer appeal. Music of all varieties drifted lazily down to the sea, mixing to create another variation of delightful noise. Playful carnival music played from the pleasure pier that supported the children’s attractions, such as the rotating passenger wheel and the wild carriage rides. The echoes of children playing by the ocean had passed, but the rhythmic sound of the waves persisted in the mixture of music, laughter, and screaming.

It actually wasn’t a particularly busy night, but Lilly felt the Boardwalk was extremely congested. This was because it had been a humid day, this being among the first times Antham had stayed out after dark. True, the Boardwalk was lit up every night since the seize fire, but this was the first time in a long time that the city had heard laughter under the stars.

The Hanzburg Theatre had been built before the war, and the damage showed. The balcony sections were still unavailable, so extra seats on the auditorium level were installed. The box seats, which lined the sides of the theater before merging with the balcony, had been repurposed into storage that was hidden from the public’s view by cheap curtains.

The theater’s lobby was alive with people who had decided to spend the evening at the Boardwalk. Its red plush interior with gold accents presented its patrons with an airy and comfortable atmosphere. Waiters dressed in white walked about the room to deliver pre-show drinks to their customers; the men dressed in their evening formal wear while the women wore gowns in a variety of colors.

Lilly had arrived in a soft yellow evening gown that had been laced with crystal beads, reflecting some of the light to make her dress sparkle; a white fan hung from her wrist by a thin chord. Her mother had decided on a sea blue gown with a white fan that was considered more old-fashioned in comparison to her daughter’s.

"Walking Sand" approached the two women and smiled, offering them champagne from the nearby bar counter. Lilly wasn’t of age to drink, but they both politely declined. The gentleman escorted them to the lounge on the side of the lobby, sat them down.

Lilly tried hard to not sigh so much, but she found with every word to escape the “Walking Sand”’s mouth was as dull as cutting with a wedge of wood. He was handsome and well dressed, certainly, but she found nothing about him that intrigued her. He was an administrator at his family’s bank near the center of the city, but that was about as interesting as the young lady discovered him.

"Walking Sand" departed to gather some waters for the two women, Lilly leaned over stiffly and whispered, “Mother, I’m so bored.”

Mrs. Prescott shifted forward in her seat and moved one of Lilly’s loose strands of hair from her face. She whispered back, “Lillian, I’m sure Arthur is just nervous. Remember, you may leave early, after the first act if, and only if you find him unsuitable.”

Lilly nodded and sighed slowly, clearing her throat. She unfurled her fan and flapped it furiously. “It is awfully hot in here, isn’t it?”

At that moment, Arthur returned with a waiter carrying three waters. “Miss Prescott, are you unwell?” he asked.

“No, no,” she replied, continuing to flap her fan. The white-dressed man placed the waters on the table before Lilly and departed. “I just find it hot in here. Isn’t it hot in here?”

“It is a little hot in here,” admitted her mother, who unfurled her fan as well and waved it through the air, though much slower than her daughter. Indeed, the congestion of people in the small room with limited ventilation made the room more humid than it normally would have.

Moments later, the theater doors opened and people began filing into their seats. The lights dimmed four minutes later, the orchestra swelled in the overture, and the heavy curtain lifted high above the performer’s heads. The spotlights brightened, revealing a small provincial town setting with two castles painted into a mountainous background. Within the first half hour, the story revealed two star-crossed lovers from rivaling families.

The young lady in the soft yellow dress found it hard to concentrate. The man sitting next to her talked between musical interludes about the different processes banks had to go through when investing money abroad, and questioned the authenticity of the play’s storyline. Besides her dreadful companion, Lilly was unbearably hot. The lights from above, the poor ventilation, and her temper with “Walking Sand” made her break into an uncomfortable light sweat. The room began spinning. The onset of nausea made the final seven minutes of Act One unbearable.

As the first act finished and the orchestra fell silent, the house lights lit up. People departed for the lobby for the lavatory or refreshments, but Lilly simply stood up and turned to "Walking Sand". “Mr. Barlow, I’m sorry, but I am not feeling well.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, standing to his feet.

“No, I-I just feel terrible. Please excuse me, but believe our night will have to be cut short. I am sorry.” Without waiting for another response, Lilly departed from the building, her mother in pursuit shortly after.

It had begun raining; Lilly, suddenly finding herself out of breath, headed north, back into the city’s center. It wasn’t a strong rain, but the dark of the night was what worried her. Without an umbrella, she was completely soaked by the time she had returned to the townhouse, her dress muddied and slightly torn from her tripping over it. She might have been sopping wet, but she still felt hot.

“Lilly?” Mrs. Prescott called, having arrived home an hour earlier via carriage. “Lillian?”

Lilly shut the front door and slowly undid her hair. “Y..yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Prescott appeared at the end of the hall and approached her daughter with a candle in hand. “What happened?”

Lilly swallowed and sat down in a hall chair beside the staircase. “I felt unwell, Mother. I-I still feel unwell. I just wanted to come home.” She breathed in slowly for about two minutes before asking, “Can you undue the buttons on my dress?” Mrs. Prescott obliged, and, before slipping into her undergarments, proceeded up the stairs to her room.

When she arrived, she opened the doors to the rough-iron railing, still sweating. But as soon as she collapsed into her mattress, her body temperature changed directions, and she shivered. Her breathing labored, and she got up to close the doors to the balcony. A saddened sigh caught in her throat, and she realized that the night would be among the longest in her life.

So when the sun rose, and the city sighed in relief again, Lilly found herself hanging off the side of her bed. The night had been long, and Lilly had about thirty minutes of sleep total. Her temperature had stabilized, for the most part, but her stomach now had tied itself into knots, emptied itself, and threatened to come out either end of her body. She had broken out into a cold sweat and was sore all over.

At about a quarter to seven in the morning, Edith arrived to wake her to find Lilly laying very still, her breathing still forced. At half past ten, she arrived at her door again, this time with the family physician following behind. Mrs. Prescott had departed due to a prior engagement that she could not get out of.

“Hello, Miss Prescott,” greeted Dr. McNathy, who sat down on the stool beside the wardrobe. Lilly sighed, unable to speak from mental and physical exhaustion. “You’re mother informed me of your...heat flashes that occurred last night, but is there anything else that needs to be mentioned?”

She cleared her throat again, and, gesturing to her throat, quietly answered, “My throat felt like there had been something caught in it about a week prior.”

Dr. McNathy set down his bag on the seat of the chair and stood up. He pulled a mask from his pocked and put it over his mouth. “Anything else I should know about?”

“I walked through the rain last night from the Hanzburg Theatre. The one on the Boardwalk.”

“Yes, Miss Prescott, I am familiar with the Hanzburg Theatre. But, you walked through the rain to get here?” She nodded. “That’s almost four miles. Did you walk or run?” She told him that she walked most of the way. He folded his hands behind his back and spoke, “Lillian, though I feel it may be too early to diagnose you for anything serious other than a common cold, some of your other symptoms suggest different. Your hot flashes, inability to sleep, and stomach discomfort suggest that, while it could be a common cold, it also could suggest something else."

Lilly forced herself up. "Like what? Like syphilonyphisis?"

The doctor shook his head. "It can't be that. You don't have a sinus headache or swollen feet." He licked his lips. "I mean like oxeparitis.”

The air froze in her lungs; oxeparitis was a severely fatal virus that started off with symptoms of the common stomach flu before spreading to the rest of the occupant’s body, the body going into paralysis before the virus reaches the brain and shuts down the nervous system.