Piled high with corpses, pulled by a tired old donkey, the men who guided the cart wore masks… Well, strips of woollen material wound around their heads. The bodies of little children were piled precariously on top of adult limbs that protruded limply from beneath the little bodies. Jessop sighed; either way, he would never see Granddad again.
He shook his head to clear the image from his history-book as paramedics rushed into Mrs James’ house. The Black-Death, COVID-19; the only difference is, we have ambulances nowadays, he thought.