Approaching the lonely store with my hardly clean hands dug deep in my pockets, I felt through them for another $5 bill. Could you believe it? Cigarettes were only $5.30 here! It was like a god-send! 'Lowest price legally allowed', I'm sure. Compared to the price before of about 7 dollars, it was definitely refreshing. Like having gas per gallon going crazy high only to drop a dollar the next week. Pulling the caged door open, I surveyed the place. It smelled of cheap booze and heavy cologne. The door rang as I opened it, letting the owner or cashier or whoever was behind the counter know I was coming in. Held above the cash register like a chandelier of sorts was a various array of cigarettes. Looking amongst them, I saw no evident red packs. At least, not my red packs. Shit. "Hey, buddy, do you guys have Serd's here?"

The young cashier anxiously looked up, searching the rows with a practiced but hurried eye. "Reds or Whites?"

I grimaced. Whoever smoked Whites might as well go for an e-cig. "Reds." I replied patiently.

"Lights or regular?" He asked as a follow-up.

"Oh, you've got them?" I was taken aback. They were somewhat hard to find. I usually had to go to far places out in the boonies. "We moved Serd's. They sell pretty good, and it was a hassle plucking 'em out."

"They smoke good for the price. I'm not surprised you had to move them. Uhh, regular." I looked behind him to see his bag rack almost completely out. "Busy day?" I pointed to them and shrugged my coat over my shoulders. It slipped defiantly.

"Oh yeah. Well, it's Friday, so not much of a guess there. We've been having problems with the Meat Department. Machines have been finicky." My eyebrows rose. This is where our opinions differed. Maybe that was how the man had to officially refer to the place, but the Meat Department was no such thing. You went to the back of the store and waited in front of the warmer for a few minutes and ordered a few local delicacies or some lunchmeat, and waited some more in turn. You had about 5 feet both ways in space, not counting the produce selections. The ladies there were nice, albeit plump and unattractive. They were chopping and splitting meat, what was to be expected? Think of some pleasant lunch ladies, just a bit bigger around the edges, and you have our prime contestants in mind.

"Will they get fixed? Do the women clean them often?" Any sort of grinder or cutter should be cleaned regularly. You never know if what you're cutting gets in until you go to use it again and get stuck halfway. "It's protocol, but that might not stop them. Some have started using knives for smaller orders." He informed me. That was no easy decision. If you want to chop pounds and pounds of various kinds of bologna and turkey and cheese, you can be my guest. And even then, for hours on end. Worth $7.25? Not by my reckoning.

He handed me two packs of Serd's Reds regulars, and I was on my way.

"Thank you!" I called to him.

"Hey, you have a nice day, man!" He said jovially back.

I went back the way I initially came. Walking along the side of this tight road was dangerous. Having it sit right next to an interstate and have it be a main road where no-one follows the speed limit? Great idea! Drunks run rampant in this part of the state, and even with my bright yellow clothing, they'd probably mistake me for a deer and keep gunning it. It's a shame to see those crosses on the shoulders, or the solar lights that burn at their death site. Reading the nearby memorial would be too much for me. My day was depressing enough as it was. Skirting past, I follow the long route I set out for myself before getting into my small, old car that I parked off to the side. New cars weren't worth it. Sure, you had Bluetooth and could call people with them, but who needs people listening in? Besides, I don't need to put a bag in my window six months sooner. Starting up and going home, I notice a flash of light in my rearview mirror. What was that? Probably some truck with his brights, I reasoned with myself. It was getting late. The store open in the first place was good enough for me. I didn't need someone to take mercy on some poor, wayward stranger walking down the road. Ugh.
Heading back home,  I noticed a huge blue light behind me, shadowed by the trees and brush. I shook it off. Must be those new headlights that cars come out with, I reckoned, putting it out of my mind. 
Finally getting to my door, I took out my keys and was about to raise them up to the door lock when a familiar feeling washed over me.  I turned to see the same blue light from before.  It drenched my porch unnaturally. It was quite a sight to see, if it wasn't so fear-inducing. It blotted out the stars around it and made a terrible screeching noise. I covered my ears and fumbled with my keys, trying to get inside and away from the horrible sound.  What was that? A flare? It couldn't have been.  Flares did not sound like that. They also weren't blue, at least not normally. What was happening? That was the exact same light by the store! Did it follow me? How does a light follow you? I went to my fridge to get some much-needed alcohol.  Questions raced through my mind, all with no answer.  I contemplated heading upstairs to get a better view of it. After all, it was moving in the sky. Where, I didn't know. But one thing was for certain. The thing could not be natural. Not in any way, shape, or form. I didn't like this situation. Not in the slightest. I gave up on it and went to bed. I tossed and turned until later that night, trying to sleep. I just couldn't,  no matter how much I tried.  But soon, the feeling of grogginess overtook me, and I was swept into a dream about something I hadn't thought of in so long. "Daddy, do all wishes come true?" My beautiful little daughter asked me. We were sitting under a young cherry tree that summer afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the thick cherry branches into her hair, making her look biblical. Her white dress reflected the sun's rays, and she looked as if she was an angel, come to take me eternal. "Oh, sweetheart. Of course! You just have to believe." I replied to her.
"Lunch is ready!" My lovely wife of 5 years called through the open window. She was always a cherry and bubbly person. It was just part of her personality; one of, if not the reason I fell in love with her in the first place. Me, I was a different story entirely. I was more reserved, but she found a way to love me, and we had Julie. It was probably the best time of my life. I helped her up and together, we walked through the somewhat high grass back to the blue colored house with the white picket fence.
I awoke with a gasp.  The clock next to me read 4 am.  I shuddered. I hadn't thought of them in years. Sadie and Julia, my family, now both gone.  I didn't want to think about it ever again.
Shaking the loathsome thoughts out of my head, I pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt, and got ready for work.  On the Interstate I usually traveled, I-79, a convoy of cops swept past me.  Was someone hurt? Was there an active shooter? It wasn't common to see that many cops at this early in the morning. It was only six! But seconds after,  a firetruck and two ambulances rushed after them, suddenly making sense in my mind. There must have been a fire. It happens. Maybe someone fell asleep with a cigarette again. I passed the few tractor trailers and company trucks in front of me and continued on to my workplace.
On the tropical island of Guam, it turned out there actually was more than a species of invasive tree snakes. A particular plant there had natural cyanide, and me and my partner were studying the effects of it with other chemical compounds. We weren't getting very far, but we did send in our results. We had to, being scientists. It was natural. That or be kicked out on your ass. If you didn't have anything profitable on time, or you got beat to the chase by some other leading team of scientists, you were out of a job, and for good reason. You couldn't be seen as lacking. There's good money in science. Lots of uncharted territory, lots of news articles. Plenty for the taking. But we had to get there first.
"Hey, Danila." I greeted my partner as I walked into the lab. He nodded to me in response. "You hear about the new strain going around?" He asked. I frowned and went to go gather our supplies, instruments and such. "No. What is it? And can you put on a pot?" I called from the back room.
"Already have. They don't know what it is, just that it makes people projectile vomit and have fevers over at least 102."
I mulled it over. It didn't sound that bad. A bit extreme, sure, but nothing too much. "Medicine?" I pulled a heavy box out and set it on the nearby counter before grabbing my favorite mug out of our cabinet. It was a fairly old cup, but one I dearly treasured. It had several chips and cracks, that at times made me feel like the hot liquid inside would suddenly spill out and cascade all over my hands, but not yet. They even ruined part of the homely decoration on the top, but it was okay. I knew it well. A little scratch or two would not ruin it. "Acetaminophen and bed rest seems to help, but not for all of them." Danila came over with the pot and poured coffee for me. "Well, wash your hands, shower, and whatever else," I advised absentmindedly.
"Yes, sir." He saluted mockingly. We both enjoyed the sweet black nectar in silence before going over and inspecting samples under a microscope slide. Just another day at the office.
At that moment, it didn't occur to me that, five weeks from now, my idea of the infectious strain would change radically, and none for the better.