The doctor’s sigh was sharp with impatience. “This is getting out of hand.” He turned toward the door, but Leland stepped in front of him, blocking his escape.
“Just give him the medicine.”
“I have food. I have money,” Martha said. She crossed in toward the doctor, pawing at his wool coat. “Please.”
“Let me by,” Dr. Ambrose said, skirting away to avoid her touch.
Matthias came forward, arms crossed over his chest. The blacksmith made an imposing wall.
The doctor’s mouth fell open. “You’re not letting me leave?”
“She’s been entirely reasonable. We all have. Just give up the medicine.”
“I would, if there was any left. What about that don’t you understand?”
“Where are you keeping it?”
Dr. Ambrose’s arms went up, trying to keep the Elder back as Matthias stepped toward him. “Nowhere. There’s none. I swear!”
There was a terrible wrenching sound outside, like the sky ripping open to herald the start of Armageddon, and we all turned to watch in horror as one of the giant pines bordering the Falls fell over. The remaining trunk was a mess of jagged spikes reaching out like grasping fingers.
The doctor used the moment’s distraction to hurry away. Once out, he raced down the road as fast as his arthritic limbs would carry him. Wind howled through the open door, and the walls of the Gathering House shuddered.
“Storm’s getting real bad,” Calvin Buhrman said, peering out the window. “Saw three trees down on our way in. Think it’s best if we head home.” Beside him, Violet nodded.
“Maybe we ought to stay here,” Leland countered, his gaze fixed on the stump. “It sounds as if it’s getting worse.” As if on cue, the wind altered pitch, screaming like a banshee over the icy roads. “We have firewood—some,” he said, checking the pile near the stove. “And supplies….We certainly won’t go hungry with all these beans.”
There should have been a gentle laugh.
There was not.
Amos coughed. Bonnie sniffled.
I glanced around the room, truly looking at everyone there and seeing all the little details I’d missed before. The fevered glassiness of their eyes. The pallor of their skin. Hand trembles and noses red from wiping. Exhaustion and aches.
Everyone seemed on the verge of sickness.
I turned to Merry. “I…I think we need to leave.”
“We can’t make it home in that,” she said, gesturing to the gales of snow pelleting the windows.
“We can’t stay here. Look at everyone. They’re sick. They’re sick and afraid.”
Had the tree not fallen over, I shuddered to imagine what might have happened to Dr. Ambrose. Desperation was changing the Falls, making people lash out for themselves. Not for the whole of the community.
Unconsciously I grabbed our jar of beans and tucked it beneath my cloak to keep it from view.
Amos sank to a bench, fighting for breath. He hacked once, twice, too exhausted to bother with his handkerchief.
I could almost feel the drops of spittle land on me. Repulsed, I wiped at the phantom spray, but my skin still itched. I pictured the sickness burrowing within me, like a colony of ants spreading out through the ground. I scratched, leaving red welts across the tops of my hands, but that only further fanned the flames of irritation. My shoulder blades chafed; the backs of my knees twitched. Things crawled in my hair, but they were impossible to find, no matter how I raked my fingers through it.
Still the Elder gasped and wheezed.
Matthias’s countenance turned grim, his thoughts written upon his face. “Calvin is right. We all need to get home before the storm gets any worse. In fact…I think we all ought to stay home for a while. Until the danger has passed.”
“What are you saying?” Cora asked.
I squirmed, trying to relieve the prickle of unease creeping down my spine. Merry grabbed my hand, stilling me.
“With resources so low, I think it prudent to keep to ourselves. Hunker down and make do. Spring will come and this will all be over. But we need to stay safe until then.”
Murmurs filled the hall.
“Until the thaw, this will be the last time we’re all together,” Matthias said decisively. Leland’s mouth dropped open, and Amos raised a hand in weak protest, but they did not deter him. “Good Blessings to you—to all the Falls—till then.”
TAP, TAP, TAP.
Tap, tap.
Rubbing away the film of sleep from my bleary eyes, I stared at the rafters above, wondering what had woken me. The faces I picked out of the wooden whorls in the beams were leering and cruel. Their clarity was blurred by the fog of my breath in the air. I sank into the bedsheets wishing I could slip back into slumber, hunkered beneath the mountain of quilts heated by my sisters.
It was the only time I ever felt warm enough.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
What was that?
I rolled over and peered out the window at the enormous elm growing nearby. Papa had trimmed back the branches last year, worried that summer storms might toss the limbs too near to the house. Perhaps they were in need of another pruning. It was March.
But the naked, gnarled twigs were still. Not even a hint of a breeze moved throughout the branches.
With a sigh, I forced myself from the cozy nest. My feet jerked as they touched the chilled floorboards, even encased in a pair of Papa’s thick socks. After pulling a wool sweater over my nightgown, I made my way downstairs, rubbing my arms. Mama had knit me the sweater just last year, but it hung too large on my frame now, as baggy as a tent.
Stepping into the sitting room, I let out a hiss.
It was even colder here.
I set to work, ignoring the way my hands trembled as I scooped the ashes from the hearth. The shakes were from either the cold or my constant hunger—but I’d stopped being able to tell the difference weeks ago. I lit a bit of kindling and slowly added sticks to the fireplace, letting the flame grow and feed.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
Muscle memory prodded me toward the side door, instinctively on my way to milk Bessie. I’d slipped on Papa’s work coat and boots before remembering that the poor beast had died the day before, ribs sticking from her sides as sharply as scythes.
My hand remained paused on the doorknob, as I wondered what I ought to do instead.
The room spun for a moment as I considered my options. My head was too light, a dry leaf caught in a brisk wind and powerless to do anything but dance.