Free Suffer the Children by Craig DiLouie

trash. He sniffed again, puzzled that the smell was still present.
    “Wow, it’s cold in here. Aren’t you cold? You could make Popsicles.” He turned up the heat.
    Ross was destroying her museum. Stop it. Leave.
    “Why are you here?” she asked him.
    “I was with you when it happened. I still can’t believe it did happen. It’s like being in a nightmare. The world will never be the same.”
    She said nothing.
    “Anyway,” he said, “I wish I could have done something. I was thinking maybe I could help you now.”
    “You’re sweet, Ross,” she said. “Really. But your help is the last thing I need right now.”
    “I’ve been worrying about you. It’s not healthy being alone at a time like this. Don’t you have anyone?”
    Ramona glanced at the phone, which had rung unanswered on and off for the past few days.
    “Just go,” she said.
    “Ramona. Let me help you. Please.”
    He really wants to help , she thought from far away. It was an attractive idea.
    She thought of her best friend ripping her hair out at the toy store. Bethany had Brian to console her, but Brian couldn’t bring Trent back any more than Ross could resurrect Josh.
    Attractive, but pointless.
    “This is not about what you want,” she said. “It’s about what I want. And I don’t want you here.”
    Ross hesitated, his expression filled with self-doubt.
    “You need help, Ramona.”
    “Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
    “Oh. Wait. I’m just trying to—”
    She clenched her fists. “GET OUT!”
    He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, okay. I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”
    She followed him to the door. “What did you think you were going to do? Boss me around and ask me if I was all cried out yet, and then I’ll snap out of it and won’t be sad anymore?!”
    Ross paused at the door to put on his coat, his face reddening with confusion and anger. “All right, Ramona. I was trying to help and screwed up somehow. I’m an idiot, okay? I’ll leave you alone now.”
    “Really? Are you sure I can handle that?”
    He opened the door with a loud sigh and stepped onto the porch. Ramona noticed the walk had filled with snow since Saturday morning. She wanted to yell at him some more; it felt so good to be angry. It was good to feel something .
    It didn’t last. The anger dissipated as rapidly as it had come, leaving her hollow again.
    Ramona thought of the endless, empty day ahead of her.
    “Wait,” she called after him.
    Ross stopped at the sidewalk. “What?”
    “Don’t go,” she told him. “Please don’t go.”
Doug
    42 hours after Herod Event
    Otis called Doug on Monday morning to offer his condolences.
    “This is the worst tragedy, Doug. We’re all in shock.”
    “Sorry about your grandkids,” Doug said. “How are you holding up?”
    “One day at a time. My daughter’s a mess. The whole thing is too horrible for words.”
    “Yeah, it is.” Doug didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Well, I appreciate you calling.” After a long silence, he added, “Something else on your mind, Otis?”
    “Actually, there is. It’s kind of hard to say.”
    “Why don’t you just say it.”
    “Well, I hate to make things worse for you, but I need to ask you to come to work today.”
    “Go to hell,” Doug said, and hung up.
    Moments later, the phone rang again. He answered it and said, “Otis, don’t make me come down there and beat the living shit out of you.”
    “Just hear me out for a second.”
    “I’m not picking up any trash today, you son of a bitch.”
    “It’s not—”
    “I’m grieving for my kids!”
    “It’s the bodies, Doug.”
    “What?”
    “The bodies. Somebody has to pick up all the bodies.”
    Doug blinked. Then he set his jaw. “No way. It’s a job for the mortuaries.”
    Otis snorted over the line. “Brother, there ain’t enough mortuaries in the world to handle this.”
    “The hospitals then.”
    “There’s ninety thousand kids in our county alone who have to be picked