I was awakened by the sound of a mosquito screaming in my ear. I heard the creaking of my mother opening the gray, dusty shutters and felt the dreadful morning heat pouring into our home. It was another hot day in Philadelphia. August was here and it sure brought the heat. My two younger brothers, John and Henry, were still asleep wearing their dirty, old coats and pungent bottoms. Henry is six while John is ten. I’m fourteen. Our mother is the only one left in our lives to guide us. When I was just three, our father was shot by the British, as he was a robber and was always away from home robbing stores and causing trouble.

“Rise and shine, my loves. We got ourselves a big day ahead of us,” mother told us.

“Jonathan, would you please wake up Henry for me, dear? John, come with me to get the shop ready for opening,” she ordered.

We have our own family business, a bakery; however, business is not as brisk as it used to be so we are very poor and desperately need money. A squeaking mouse dashes through my toes as I walk over to Henry, looking so uncomfortable on the old wooden floor, and I bend down to wake him up.

“Henry, it’s time to wake up! We must not dawdle or else mother will make us pick up the mouse droppings back at the shop again,” I whispered in his left ear.

Henry slowly woke from his sleep, crying in pain.

“Henry what’s the matter?” I asked.

“My throat hurts! My throat really really hurts!” he cried.

I took his temperature to see if he might have a fever. Just as I suspected, he did. Henry had an 102 degree fever.

“Oh, my lord!” I exclaimed. “Henry, stay right where you are. I must get mother this instant.” I grabbed my old blue cap, putting it on as I sprinted out the door to the bakery just across the street.

“Mother! Mother!” I yelled as I approached the shop.  Mother and John were preparing the tables. I could smell the fresh bread swirling through the air.

“What brings you running, dear?” Mother calmly asked.

“Henry’s got a 102 degree fever, Mother. What if he has that yellow fever that’s spreading? That disease is spreading rapidly in our neighborhood, you know.”

Mother’s eyes grew, her mouth dropped to the floor and she ran back to the house without a word. I turned my head towards John.

“Jonathan, what should I do?” John asked.

“Um, make sure all the pastries are ready for selling. We’re going to open up shop soon,” I declared.

“I’m on it,” John replied.

I met up with Mother and Henry back at the house. The smell of delicious pastries quickly switched back to the smell of mice droppings, vomit, and hay. Our house smells worse than a farm.

“How is he?” I asked.

My mouth dropped when I saw Henry’s face and eyes, all yellow, and he was vomiting on his bed. Mother was at the other side of him, comforting and caring for him. Mother shed tears down her face at a tremendous rate, each tear hitting Henry’s yellow face. All I heard was the sound of Henry throwing up.

“Jonathan,” she said with fright, “get away from here or you’ll catch the fever, too!”

“But mother, you may catch it,” my voice trembled.

“I’m aware, but I have to care for Henry. He’s not going to live much longer.”

“What?” Henry cried.

My heart sank with the thought that my brother may not wake up the next day. When Henry started bleeding out of many places, it was not a pleasant scene. A tear rolled down my eye as I turned my back to them and walked back to the shop to inform John.

“How’s Henry? Oh, and I finished the pastries,” John smiled.

“Henry has yellow fever, John, and he won’t be alive much longer.”

“What’s that?” John asked.

“Well, its a virus and it is very contagious, so do not go near Mother and Henry.”

“But I wanna make sure he is okay, and I wanna go over their this instant!” He declared.

“John, I told you already. I’m not losing you like that.”

“Am I gonna die?” John asked with a tear racing down his face. I wrapped my arms around John for a comforting hug while we both shedded tears down our faces.

“John, I don’t know. Right now we can only do so much. The shop will stay closed for now as we assess this situation. Just stay calm.”

I hurried back to the house but stopped at the door, not wanting to get too close. It was getting dark out, and Henry wasn’t looking too good. Mother told me he was having trouble breathing and chest pain. It was getting worse.

“Jonathan, I know you care about Henry, but I care about you, too, and you must stay back at the shop. I am not losing you!” she cried.

I hung my head down and walked back to the shop.  There I saw John on the floor in a puddle of his own tears. I grabbed one of the pastries he made and took a bite for comfort.

“You know, John, nothing is going be better if you cry about it,” I informed him.

“I don’t want Henry to leave us, Jonathan! And I don’t want you or Mother to leave me either,” he cried.

I put my hand on John’s shoulder.  “You know what, John? I hate to say it, but we need to flee this neighborhood and save ourselves. I love Henry and mother, but we can’t save them. We can only save ourselves before it’s too late.” I took John by the hand and raced back to the house and informed mother.

“Mother,” I spoke.

“Yes Jonathan?” she answered while emptying Henry’s vomit out in the yard.

“John and I are fleeing,” I said, trembling, and scared to leave the family.

“Dear, I hate to see you leave, but that is the best option for the both of you.” she cried, tears shedding down her face.

John and I went to hug her, but she quickly refused.

“No! Stay away from me, I’m not going let you die because of this disease.”

John and I blew a kiss, and waved goodbye to our mother, who we may sadly never see again.

“Stay safe boys, remember that I will always lov-”

Mother was interrupted by the agonizing sounds of Henry coughing and vomiting. She fixes her dirty, white cap as she scurries over to Henry. John and I felt the impulse to leave as Henry’s symptoms seemed get worse by the minute, mother would rather have us not catch the fever and leave her and Henry then have us al catch it. Even though I had second thoughts on leaving my brother. We glanced at each other and walked out of the house. Just as I was about to turn the corner, I look back at my mother, and we locked eyes.

“I love you,” and she turned back to Henry.

John tugged on my coat, hinting that we had to go. I turned my back to the door and started to walk with John down the street.

“How will we get out of here?” John asked.

As John asked the question my ears picked up unpleasant sounds, similar to vomiting. I looked around and saw through a window, in the house across the street, an old man laying in bed, blood across his face, and vomit coming out of his mouth. I grabbed John’s hands and started to walk faster. Much faster.

“Why are we walking so fast Jonathan?” He questioned.

“The fever is spreading, and its spreading quickly John.”

“Are we gonna catch it?” John puzzled.

“If we don’t get out of here soon then yes, now come along now John we can't linger anymore,” I told John.

The sound of a mosquito whining in my ear slowed us down.

“Gosh, what is with these pests, all over me day and night!” I complained as I was waving my hands around hoping the mosquito would leave.

The mosquito finally left, and John and I were still briskly walking through the neighborhood. The pungent smell of vomit was still in the air. Every other house we walked past seemed to have somebody with the fever, so John and I knew it was not safe here. Then I remembered John’s question.

“Oh and John, I am aware of a neighborhood where we could flee to.”

“Which one?” John questioned.

“Just stay with me, brother.”

“Will you make sure I’m okay if I catch the fever?” John’s voice trembling.

“John, even if the sky comes falling down, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you. I’m here for you through thick and thin,” I said with a smile.

John smiled back.

Not knowing how Henry or mother were was in the back of my head. I couldn't stop thinking about them. Just as we were about to leave the neighborhood, John put his hands on his throat.

“Jonathan my throat is bothering me,” he complained.

My heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening.

“Does it really hurt?” I asked.

“No, just a little bit,” he answered.

“Jonathan, do I have yellow fever?” His voice trembled.

I didn’t answer him and kept walking, hoping that he didn’t have it. Suddenly, John fell to his knees, crying on the hot asphalt.

“John what’s the matter?” I asked.

“My throat really hurts now! And my head too!” He cried.

“Maybe it’s the heat, John.”

When John started vomiting, I knew what was wrong. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I quickly got down on my knees and look John in his eyes.

“Brother, I’m not leaving you,” I cried, remembering what I did to Henry, and feeling bad.

John kept throwing up.

“Jonathan, please leave, I don’t want you to catch it.”

“I’m not letting you die alone, If you go down, I’m coming with you.”

“I’m gonna die?” John’s eyes grew big, and tears raced down his face.

“Not while I’m still standing” I said with confidence.

John rolled on to his side, vomiting more and more. I knew I had a good chance of catching the fever with the environment I was in. I look at John with pure despair. Not knowing what do, and scared for his life.

“Jonathan,” his voice trembling, “I don’t want to leave you.”

A tear rolled down his yellowing face. And a tear rolled down my face too, looking into John’s yellow eyes. I knew his time had come.

I grasped on to John’s hand. I sat next to him, holding each other's hands.

“Brother, there is not much I can do for you, I’m sorry,” I started to cry.

Suddenly, I felt John’s grip slowly fading away. His hand left mine and his eyes fluttered shut. I tugged at John’s shoulder.

“John, John?” my face was melting.

He was dead.

“John, no!” I kept tugging and pushing, but he wouldn’t move. I sat in despair, my mind racing. I then bent over John’s body, and gave him a kiss on his forehead. A tear rolled off my face and hit John’s.

“Bye, brother.” Was all I said as I left him, lying dead on the asphalt.

I decided to walk back to the house even though I wanted to flee the fever. I was too eager to see mother and Henry.

I was approaching the house, the scent of vomit and mice droppings grew stronger. Each step of the way was more painful then the last. My mind was swirling with thoughts about John. How could I lose him like that? I felt like I failed him.

I came to the front door, I grasped on to the rusty door knob, my chest pounding. I slowly opened the door, one creak at a time. My heart stopped from what I saw. Mother was in a puddle of her own tears, on her knees with your hands on her face.

Henry was dead.

But this was only the beginning.

“Mother,” I said softly.

She looked up at me, tears still running down her face. She got up from the wood floor and rushed over to me, giving me a comforting hug.

“This fever may kill us, Jonathan,” She said wiping the tears off her face.

“There is not much we can do, mother, just know that will always I love you, no matter what happens to us. We shall savor these last moments together. We will all always be family,” I cried.

“I love you too.”