by Jared Hooper

Created on: May 04, 2010

The cry of a baby could be heard as it echoed through the room, creating an unfa-thomable atmosphere that lingered ghastly, even in the well-lit, flat-floored auditorium. Joining the infant were several others—many dozens, in fact, as their wails reverberated off of the walls and carried out until heard. Fearful, they were, but so was everybody else, especially the children, who were almost unmindful to what had been happening.

Most were not yet of an age where they might comprehend the dangers that lingered in the outside world, but they did, however, recognize the belonephobia they never knew they had or forgotten about.

With every child, an adult stood close by, whether they by the biological parents or simply the guardian that had claimed them as their own. However different the relationships between them and their children were, they all shared the same fear: Panthophobia.

Many clung close to the only child they guarded, the two they cherished, the three they worked hard to keep, or the many more they troubled to raise properly. The fear of more than just a needle lingered in the adults’ minds as they did what they could to keep them safe from the real terror that poisoned the air.

With small families staying together and larger ones frequently regrouping, they all watched over one another, ensuring that the needle each member received was done so, women and children first.

Lined up with the many families were several adults that had come by themselves, no friends to talk to, no family to protect; just them and no one else. As rare as a single adult was, they were seen, and almost all were males. A lone female was never seen.

One such man was Christopher Link, a middle aged business man that looked to obtain his shot, no matter the phobia.

Garbed in a collared shirt with red and black strips, blue jeans, and half clean dress shoes, he came off as a decent looking man, but he detained attention from others with his hands held in his pockets and his shoulders shrugged.

He looked around the room and spied seven uneven lines of people. For each line, there was a column of small tables where the families would receive their shots. Two nurses to each and with most families twice that number, progress was generally slow, es-pecially since there were four families to every stand.

With no spouse, girlfriend, or fiancé to call his love, or any children to claim as his own, he felt awkward being there alone. He didn’t mind his loneliness,

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