One Second After [154]
He could feel her hand getting colder and he read now, almost in a fast monotone, turning the pages, and then reached the last one.
"And so Rabs, nestled in Jennifer's arms watched as she went to sleep. 'Some day you will be all grown up,' Rabs whispered to her, 'but I will love you forever. And far, far away, we will play again some day. Sleep tight Jennifer, and I will see you in the morning.'"
"John," Makala whispered.
He couldn't speak.
"John, she's gone."
He knew. He had felt her slip away before he had turned the last page.
She was buried in the garden, her grave near the bay window, very close by to him as promised. At nighttime Rabs rested on the windowsill inside the house, keeping vigilant watch. He had spent a fair part of the day outside, just sitting by her grave, holding Rabs, talking to Jennifer as if she were sitting before him, again his little girl of five, the fur on Rabs still not completely worn off as it now was, Ginger, barely able to move, lying by his side.
It was towards evening and Makala came to sit by him.
"I'm worried about Elizabeth," she said. "She needs to eat."
"There's nothing to eat," John replied, "other than the rations at the college."
"John, she's in her third month. It's crucial now, perhaps the most crucial month of all. The rations are mostly carbs. She needs protein, meat, as much as we can force into her."
Makala fell silent, leaning against his shoulder, and he knew what she was saying.
It was not a hard decision at all now. Not hard at all. He went into the house and came out a minute later, carrying the .22 pistol. He handed Rabs to her.
Ginger was lying by Jennifer's grave as if keeping watch. He knelt down and picked Ginger up. She was so light. "Come along," he whispered. "You can still save a life, my dear friend. And besides ... Jennifer wants to play with you again."
How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people? How is she become as a widow? She that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary?
BOOK OF LAMENTATIONS 1:1
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAY 365
The phone ringing by his bedside woke him up, the light streaming through the window; it was just about dawn.
He could hear crying in the next room, little Ben, Elizabeth shushing him.
John picked up the phone. It was Judy and he listened, finally sitting up.
"I'll be down there as quickly as possible."
Makala was snuggled up by his side, half-awake.
"Come on, love; get up now."
"What?"
She opened her eyes and looked around.
"Not even dawn yet."
"Up. We got to get into town, all of us."
He pulled on the old stiff trousers lying by the side of the bed and rubbed his chin, suddenly wondering if he should shave. Absurd, he had not shaved in more than six months.
It had been warm enough a week ago for all of them to have a bath. He had built a roaring fire, scooped water from the creek to heat, and then filled what had once been a small outdoor fishpond. By the time the girls and the baby had finished, the water was a dark scummy gray, but John didn't care, the first at least tepid bath since late autumn.
The following day Makala and Jen had scrubbed clothes along the bank of the creek the old-fashioned way, a flat rock and an antique scrub board scrounged out of the basement. All had walked up to the college that evening for an actual spring dinner feast, 140 of the surviving students, Reverend Abel offering a service in the Chapel of the Prodigal, the choir putting on a musical performance, and then what was supposed to be a one-act comedy about someone finding a television that still worked ... It had fallen rather flat, too painful, though the audience did laugh politely.
Ben had of course been passed from girl to girl, and for more than a few it was practice. The autumn and winter had resulted in more than a few pregnancies and rather quick marriages by Reverend Abel.
The dinner, of boiled corn mixed with apples, garnished with ramps and the first dandelions of spring, had at least