Free The Journal: Ash Fall by Deborah D. Moore Page B

past the curve of sanity over the baby, so
he killed her too. Right after he told us all that, he shot
himself.”
    I was stunned at the news, although not
really surprised. The world had indeed gone insane.
     

CHAPTER 8

    May 22
    It was my day to see John and Sven for their
massages. I needed his comfort, however, I just couldn’t tell him
about the recent events involving being exposed to the flu. So I
kept it to myself, like I did so much.
    It had only been a week, and it was good to
see John, until I remembered I was mad at him for covertly deciding
on all these building projects without discussing them with me
first. I set my massage table up in the open hall, just like I’d
been doing for almost two years, and waited, quietly seething. When
he came around the corner, his face split with a genuine smile, and
then it froze when he saw I was angry. Instinctively, he must have
known the source of my ire.
    “Honey, I wanted to surprise you,” he pleaded
as he enveloped me with his muscular arms. “And yes, I also knew
you would protest.” He looked around and, seeing we were alone in
the room, he gently kissed me. That’s all it took for me to forgive
him.
    “The plans really are incredible and Jason
already has the footings in,” I said as I spread some oil on his
back and began to knead his tight muscles. “I’ve got some of the
plants set in the garden too, mostly they’re just acclimating to
being outside.” I told him about what I had planted, and
intentionally left out any details about the pile of wood that was
dwindling steadily.
    When the hour was over, John laid some cash
down on the side table.
    “I don’t feel right about you paying me,
John, you’re already doing way too much for me as it is!” I folded
the table and put it back in its black canvas carrier.
    “This is your work, Allex. You work – you get
paid, simple and no arguments.” He was quite adamant, so I folded
the cash and slipped it into my pocket. The Resort hadn’t started
up yet, and I did still have expenses, especially with gas at
$20.00 per gallon. John carried the table to the car for me and
loaded it in the back.
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and he slid
his around my waist. It was our hug time, just like always.
    “Next week is shift change,” he reminded me.
“Can you pick me up around nine in the morning?”
     
    May 23
    The morning began with clear blue skies and
just a hint of coolness that was refreshing to work in.
    The garden called to me. I took the hoe from
its corner in the barn and worked on the first row, digging away at
the weeds that were already starting to grow. I still needed the
markers to show me where some of the rows were. The beans and peas
had popped through the soil and were starting on their second and
third leaves already so they were easy to work around.
    By noon, I had half the garden done. I also
felt a new chill in the air and noticed some dark clouds forming
over Lake Superior. We needed the rain. With such deep, sandy soil
that drained away quickly, we always needed the rain.
    Jason had come by yesterday and showed Eric
how to put the gutters and drain spouts back up on the barn eaves,
and together they turned the cistern over and readied it for summer
usage. If these distant clouds did produce rain for us, at least we
could start collecting again.
    Within minutes, the sky turned very dark and
I felt a few drops of cold rain hit my face. The gray and black
clouds were roiling low overhead. Just as I was putting the hoe
away, there was an earsplitting crack of thunder simultaneous to a
jagged streak of lightning and the sky poured out hail. Large, icy
balls the size of quarters pounded the ground, bouncing in all
directions. It was stunning in its beauty and fury and I stood just
inside the barn, mesmerized, as a thick carpet of ice started
forming. From inside the metal barn, the noise was deafening and I
pulled myself out of my reverie when I realized that ice was
pounding away