Last Another Day by Baileigh Higgins Page B

stillborn.
    Small enough to fit into her cupped hands but perfectly formed, Elise cried silent tears as she handed the tiny form to Tumi, who burst into heart-rending sobs.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said to Joseph when he entered, standing beside the bed with a stricken expression. As a mother, she knew exactly how they must feel.
    It would have been a perfect little boy.

8

Chapter 8 - Morgan
    The dull thunk of an ax blade echoed through the humid air. Two pieces of wood landed in the grass on either side of an old stump. In the distance, dark clouds promised rain but the heat was unrelenting.
    Morgan wiped the sweat from her brow then lifted the ax high again, bringing it down in a smooth arc. For half an hour, she split logs until there was enough to last them a few days.
    She groaned, straightening up to ease the nagging ache that nestled in the small of her back. Her skin prickled with heat and she longed for an ice cold drink.
    Morgan loaded the split logs into a wheelbarrow then headed towards the house. She added the firewood to the small stack next to the kitchen door before heading inside.
    Weathered by sun, wind, and rain, the battered old farmhouse welcomed her into its shadowed confines. She pulled off her work gloves, tossing them on the table before slumping into a chair.
    Hannelie stood by the counter, chopping tomatoes and onions while Joanna stirred a boiling pot. Flames flickered in the old coal stove Henri had dug out of storage. If it wasn’t so hot it would be homey.
    “Finished, my dear?” Hannelie asked.
    “For now,” Morgan replied. “I still have to check the fences with Henri. Where is he?”
    “In the barn, but have a drink first before you go.” Hannelie pressed a lukewarm glass of water into her hands and Morgan swallowed it gratefully.
    These past few weeks, she’d learned not to complain. Her thoughts wandered back to the first day of the outbreak. They’d been lucky to make it out alive, she realized. If a large group of those things had mobbed them, they would have been overwhelmed.
    They barely made it out of town before getting a flat tire. If old Henri hadn’t found them and offered them shelter for the night, she shuddered to think what would have happened.
    It all seemed like a bad dream now. Brian, her father, all of it. A nightmare they had yet to awaken from.
    Henri’s wife Hannelie, had welcomed them into her home. One night turned into two and before they knew it, a week had passed. The farm workers disappeared one by one, leaving to be with their families.
    The oldest, Abraham, who would have brought his family back to the farm, promised to see them within a day or two. He never returned.
    Being young and strong, Morgan had volunteered to help with the farm work while Joanna and Julianne helped around the house. At night, they watched the news on TV to keep abreast with events. When all broadcasts ceased, they listened to the radio. Eventually, that stopped too.
    The cellphone networks never came back on and none of them knew what had happened to friends and family. Perhaps, it was better that way.
    After two weeks the electricity went off and the water followed soon after. Morgan reckoned it had been around six weeks now and things weren’t looking good. Then there was her little sister.
    “How’s Meghan doing?”
    “Still the same,” Joanna replied.
    That was bad news. A few days ago she’d developed a cough which soon escalated. Last Morgan saw she was running a fever, a fiery red blush flushing her cheeks. Julianne never left her side, sponging her forehead ceaselessly.
    Morgan sighed and put down the empty glass, wishing for more. She would not ask, though. Time to get back to work.
    Henri was busy mucking out the barn when she found him. As small as his wife was large, he possessed copious amounts of energy. The gleaming tack on the walls and arranged equipment testified to that.
    Lola the milk cow, lowed at her when she walked in and Morgan scratched her