The scream that ripped through the Riverside market was not just a sound; it was a rupture in the fragile bubble of hope they had been building all day. It tore through the chatter of vendors and the rhythmic, mechanical pace of the vaccination line, replacing it with a sudden, chilling silence.
All eyes turned to the small boy who had crumpled near a stall heaped with bright oranges. He was a child named Finn, seven years old, known for his gap-toothed grin and boundless energy. Now, he lay twitching on the dusty ground, his skin flushed with a high fever and, most horrifyingly, covered in the unmistakable, blotchy crimson rash of full-blown measles.
The invisible enemy had declared itself with brutal clarity.
Reuben’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the col
