Free The Hallowed Ones by Laura Bickle Page B

plan.
    But was the loss of Seth and Joseph truly his will? Had the Outside interfered with his divine will by creating an evil that was not spiritual? If it was a disease, would any amount of spiritual virtuousness deflect it? Or did God choose who would be affected?
    My thoughts rushed and collided together, not able to be soothed by even the familiar rhythms of the Lord’s Prayer. I felt the loss of the young men who had been like brothers to me in an ache behind my breastbone.
    That night I lay awake in bed with Sarah sleeping beside me, staring at the dark ceiling. I didn’t understand. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to.
    Instead of snoring, I heard soft sobbing from the bed beside me. Mrs. Parsall was trying to muffle her crying in the pillow. I could see her blond hair pressed up against it in the moonlight.
    I kissed Sarah on the forehead and slipped out of my bed. I padded over to Mrs. Parsall’s bed and climbed in beside her. I wrapped my arms around the older woman as she sobbed.
    Like Herr Miller, she may have lost her children for all time.
    And there was nothing I could say to soothe that hurt. All I could do was be a shoulder in the darkness.
    ***
    Evil arrived on our doorstep the next day.
    At the time, I didn’t see it that way. But that was the way the Elders saw it.
    I was doing my chores and Elijah’s, feeding the cattle. Star dragged bales of hay on a sledge, and I stopped her in the middle of the field to put the hay in the iron bale holders beside the watering tubs. The bales were heavier than I was used to, about fifty pounds each, but I was determined not to complain. There were bigger concerns now than my own comfort. Though an air of crisis hung low like a cloud over our community, there were still mundane chores to be done. I was grateful for them, for the ache in my muscles that kept me tied to the present moment; the activity kept my mind off of useless ruminating about the future.
    The cattle had seen me coming and were heading in, mooing and grumbling among themselves. Unlike the black and white dairy Holsteins in the barn, these were brown and white Herefords. Beef cattle. Most of them were bulls, and I gave them a wide berth. They were never aggressive. But at two thousand pounds, they could accidentally hurt a person as they made a beeline for the hay and grain.
    I stretched, stepping back, as the bulls clustered around the feeder. My back popped in two satisfying places, and I looked up at the leadening sky. I wanted to get the hay bales out before it rained. It would be much worse slogging through a muddy field with soggy bales that weighed more than they ought to.
    Suddenly, I heard a distant roar.
    Four sleek triangular gray planes flew in “V” formation overhead, streaking across the thick sky from west to east. They reminded me of geese, the way they flew. I lifted my arms to wave and shout, wondering if they could see me. I supposed that perhaps they were checking the damage, to see who had survived.
    The low roar rumbled over the field. Instead of white contrails, the tails of the planes were spewing something bluish. Not smoke. The planes continued along their way, heading east, streaking the sky with that mysterious blue, and receding beyond sight.
    The breeze pushed the smell of the blue substance down through the field. I wrinkled my nose. It smelled metallic, like winter. I hoped that the military had found a cure for the contagion. Maybe they were dusting us, like crops, to get it dispersed.
    Whatever the reason, the sight lifted my heart. It meant that there were still people out there in the Outside world. Alive.
    I smiled up at the sky.
    And it opened up and began to rain. The rain tasted cold and sharp, like metal.
    I sighed and returned to my work, dragging the last heavy bale from the sledge. The bulls had crowded me out of the feeder, so I chucked this one on the ground, and the smaller, less dominant ones headed for it. As I surveyed the cattle, I began to worry.
    The