Free The Journal: Ash Fall by Deborah D. Moore

don’t be offended.”
    “We’re not offended at all! I really
appreciate just being able to sit in the shade without someone
running us off,” Max said. I was sure that had happened more than
once to them. Their clothes were a bit old, and worn and dirty from
days on the road.
    Not wanting to use my personal glass bowls
outside for people I didn’t know, I went searching in the barn for
disposable ware from my catering days. I came out with a large
black plastic bowl with a thin clear lid, and some plastic forks
and spoons. It would have to do.
    The three cups of rice once cooked, expanded
enough to fill the bowl, with some extra broth sinking to the
bottom. I set it on the wooden picnic table along with the plastic
spoons and forks. Lydia had the two older children washed their
hands in the cold water of the faucet before eating while the
infant in the yellow and white stroller slept quietly on.
    They all crowded around the bowl and spooned
the warm rice into their mouths with gusto, making me wonder if it
had really been only two days since they’d eaten or whether it had
been longer.
    The bowl wasn’t empty, but it looked like
they were done eating. Lydia started talking first. She looked to
be in her mid-thirties, with dull blue eyes and natural blond hair
now matted and uncombed. She wore sensible walking shoes, jeans and
a printed V-necked t-shirt covered by a gray sweater. I noticed
that the sweater was buttoned wrong.
    “This little angel is Jessica and she turned
six last week,” Lydia stoked her daughter’s dirty brown hair. “This
little guy is Aaron. He’s two.” Aaron promptly sneezed, and then
coughed a very lung-y, raspy wheeze. I backed up further toward the
tree I was standing near.
    “The baby is Sara. She’s been such a good
little girl, not complaining or crying, but then she’s only six
months old and they usually sleep all day anyway.” Lydia pulled the
soiled pink blanket down so I could see the child. The baby’s skin
was a darkening mottled gray, and it was immediately obvious to me
that she was dead, and had been for days. My stomach twisted. The
mother was either in deep denial, ignorant or crazy. Perhaps all
three, which made her dangerous.
    I looked at this wayward family more
carefully. They hadn’t looked sick at first, but now I spotted how
listless and lethargic they all were.
    “Cute baby,” I said. “Excuse me,” and I
retreated into the house. In the bathroom, I washed my hands with
the hottest water I could stand, then doused them with peroxide,
thankful I hadn’t touched anyone, but wondering if the distance was
enough.
    From the kitchen window, I saw Emilee
bounding down the well-worn grass path on the way here, and moved
quickly to intercept her.
    “I’m sorry, Emi, this is not a good time for
you to visit.”
    “Why not, Nahna? There’s new people here,”
she protested.
    “Don’t argue with me!” I know I was too harsh
with her. “I’ll be over tomorrow to explain. For right now, you and
your dad stay home, you understand?” She nodded and sullenly went
back to their house.
     
    * * *
     
    “You’re welcome to stay the night on the
lawn,” I said as the sun was setting. I placed the plastic lid to
the bowl on the table for Lydia to put on.
    “I promised to help with the wood,” Max
protested weakly.
    “And I do appreciate that. I really don’t
need the help. Consider the meal a gift, my Christian gift to a
family in need in a world gone crazy.” I smiled and returned to the
house, after locking the barn up.
    What was I going to do??
     
    May 20
    I slept fitfully, knowing I might have been
exposed to whatever sickness this hapless family carried with
them.
    When I looked outside the next morning, they
were gone. It was as if they’d never been there.
    I took the remaining half gallon of bleach
from the pantry, and doused the water faucet and the garden hose.
Then I poured the rest of it over the picnic table and the seats,
any place I could