Background – Mitty Blake is a lazy teenager who HATES homework and lives in New York City.  One day in his countryside home, he remembers about the homework he has in his honors biology class.  He goes through the library in the house and finds a book on small pox.  But what he didn’t know, was that in the book there was a scab of an infected patient who died of small pox many years ago.  Mitty accidentally sneezes and inhales some of the particulates from the scab.  Mitty is now infected.  He asks what he should do on the internet and gets the attention of health inspectors, the FBI and terrorists.  Mitty is kidnapped by terrorist because they believe that he can start a new form of terrorism – bioterrorism.  Mitty wakes up in a cold, damp basement to find that he is locked in.  The story picks up from page 150

Mitty was trapped!  He had no idea what to do.  No windows.  No keys.  No weapon.  He was helpless, like a new born child depending on its parents.  All he had was a dimly lit light bulb and a shirt covered in vomit.  It was absolutely freezing in the basement.  Mitty needed to get out, so he looked around the room praying for a miracle to occur.  As he inspected the room he realized how run-down it was.  They couldn’t still be in Manhattan, but they couldn’t have gone too far.  Mitty sat down on the cheap role-away bed.  He felt a sudden pierce in his thigh from his pocket. He reached in it to find a paper clip.  He found his ticket out!  He scrambled to the door.  He bent the paper clip into a straight line and attempted to pick the lock.  There was only one problem.  He had no idea how to pick a lock.  But he figured that it looked easy enough in the movies so he should give it a shot.  Twisting and turning the make-shift key he heard a loud “click”!  But to his surprise the paperclip had snapped in half.  His ticket to freedom had just snapped in half. As he sat down on the bed the power went out.  “Perfect”! Mitty thought.  If he could hide from the terrorist that checks on him he could escape when the man came down the stairs looking for him.  An hour past by, but nothing had happened.  He then heard loud footsteps and suddenly the door flew open.  In disbelief the man started hectically looking through the dark room.  Mitty started to breathe heavily, but was trying to be as quiet as possible.  And out of nowhere, like lightning bolt, Mitty raced to the door.  He climbed up the stairs as fast as he could while the man behind him helplessly scrambled to the bottom of the step. Mitty slammed the door on his face.  Now that he was free he had to find a way out.  He went down a hall way to find living-quarters.  He passed another room and found an office.  He went in too get a quick peek.  A planning board was in the back of the room.  They had planned to extract the small pox virus from him, and release it into the city in a gas form.  They also had somehow planted three bombs throughout the city.  Mitty had a new objective.  He had to stop them.  At that moment the other man walked into the office.  Mitty knew he just needs to take him out because there had only been two guards.  It was do or die.  Mitty charged at the man knocking him back into the hall.  He then started to sprint down the hall, running as fast as his legs could take him.  BANG. Click. Click. Click.  Mitty had been shot.  The bullet grazed his arm and he fell down in agony.  The terrorist was out of bullets.  He walked over to Mitty with a switch blade.  He whispered to Mitty, “you will kill your own people, and we will dance in your streets”.  Mitty had totally forgot about how he had small pox.  But he was certain he wouldn’t kill is people, even if it killed him.  Mitty kicked the man in the face as he leaned over.  He was knocked out cold.  With is good hand he called 911.  He had been saved.  His people had been saved. His city had been saved.  Mitty was hospitalized, and was brought back to health.  It turns out you can’t get small pox from an old infected scab.  Mitty was relieved but that wasn’t why he was happy.  He was happy no terrorists would be dancing in his streets.