Black Death

And now, tonight's presentation of Radios Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense. Tonight, we bring you a story of a pet cat and the fear it carried with it. We call it Black Death. So now, starring Mr. Edgar Barrier, here is tonight's Suspense Play, Black Death.

April 3rd, remember what you did that day. It was a Saturday, so maybe you weren't working. The air held that first promise of spring, so you probably felt the urge to go outside, maybe to the park.

If you did, chances are you brushed against death, black, unpredictable, anonymous death. Listen, yes, it's a cat. We called him Jerry. Just a Tomcat, color black, disposition friendly, usually. Not too good as a Mauser, no real need for it.

You see, Jerry gets pretty well fed where he lives, and what mice we have there in the biological institute wouldn't be very healthy for Jerry. They were likely as not to be inoculated with anthrax, typhoid, rabies, cholera, typhus, or plague.

We were doing special work with plague at the institute, studying and manipulating the deadly pesterella pestis, the rod-like germ of the black death. I blame myself, of course. I should have known about Jerry. As director, it is my business to know everything about the biological institute, to keep track of the last sub-microscopic bacillus and spore in the smallest test tube.

But that morning, I didn't know about Jerry. I was home. I had just finished breakfast, and Patty, as usual, was flitting about me. Good fall of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Where did you learn that song, Patty?

It's a game. The kids in the park play it. Why, Daddy? I didn't answer her. How could I tell Patty the harmless nursery rhyme had its horrible origin among the victims of the great plague of London?