On a frigid winter afternoon, Jade is sitting on her chair inside, knitting. Her scarf is almost complete. She is pulling some stray threads from the scarf when her mother bursts into the room. "Jade. We need to leave. Now." She whispers in a rush. "Mother? What's wrong?" "Pack some clothing and toiletries. Hurry, we must go quickly." Jade is scared, so she does as her mother has told her. The two ladies bustle through the house and come to the front door. Jade's father opens the door carefully, as if someone is outside. Jade steps outside with her mother and immediately wishes she was not here. The street is barren. The air is yellow. Buildings are crumbling. Jade does not care about the street, nor the air or buildings. Jade's eyes are focused on the heaps of flesh eaten dead bodies everywhere. Children. Women. Animals. She turns away. "Mother! What has happened?" "The plague." Her mother replies. "It has struck again."