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“This gas’s been paid for, missus, that it has. More than once. I just hope you can use it.”

On the way home, we saw a crowd at the Catholic church, and went in. The mayor was huffing and puffing. Robbery of drugs from the pharmacy. Gas a hundred dollars a gallon at some stations. Might have to invoke martial law. He also advised drinking only bottled water and eating canned food. I felt like laughing. A bomb that could level a city and shoot debris into the sky a hundred and fifty miles away probably wouldn’t have much trouble finding its way into my apricots.

* * *

March 27. Our tree. Our tree. I cannot write today.

* * *

March 29. I thought to find some relief for us. We packed lunch and pulled Scottie in his wagon. Intended to walk to the beach. But then we saw our tree.

Several years ago, families contributed trees and shrubs for roadside beautification. Ours was a flowering plum and Tom had dug the hole himself. Prbranch. Just a couple of weeks ago we photographed the little beauty under a corona of blossoms. What delicate color

Then, the other day, as we crested the hill, we saw it again. Apparently it had come to leaf since our photo, but this didn’t look like a plum tree in spring. It was — it was—

Papery tatters hung like shrouds from its limbs.

Mamurmured, “We’re going to die, too, aren’t we, Mom?”

We huddled together, trying not to look at the ashy leaves. I thought of those Exposure to Communicable Disease forms teachers sometimes send hovarious diseases and the incubation period of each, and the teacher checks the appropriate box so the parent can be prepared. We have seen a plum tree — Nature’s Exposure to Disease warning.

* * *

MarThe first to go was the thrPitkin, our former baby-sitter.

At a town meeting/prayer service someone said tiny Susie’s death wahusband and found the young mother sobbing quietly.

“Wthere’d be any more bombs. Then poor little Susie had to get sick and die. ’Course I’ve tried to tell Cathy we’re young. We can have another baby.”

He said something about it being up to the survivors to continue, to repopulate the earth. I can’t remember exactly. I just stared at him, wanting to reach over and pull his eyelids down over the indecent innocence in his eyes. Not even Brad is as naïve as this boy.

“Don’t know why she won’t talk to you. She admires you. Had to nurse Susie just because you always nursed your babies.”

“She nursed?”

“Oh, yeah. Susie hadn’t had so much as a spoonful of cereal or canned baby food yet. Cathy was so proud of having plenty of milk. We gave her water, but we boiled it. Y

“I think everything’s contaminated, John. Try to comfort Cathy. Tell her Susie’s better off. In a few weeks, I think she’ll understand.”

* * *

April 2. Mary Liz is sure she heard a robin today. I wonder.

* * *

ApTwesymptoms vary. High fever, itching, dry skin. Some nausea. I thought hair would fall out, but perhaps they went too quickly for that.

At the time of the baby’s death, I suspected it was an omen, just the begclutch at coincidence. It took a walk on the beach to convince me of what I knew all along. I didn’t tell the children what I saw, nor will I recount it here.

* * *

April 8. Scottie is feverish. Repeatedly he asks for the story of Peter Pan. Mary Liz sings, “I can fly, I can fly, I can flycannot bear to be far from him.

* * *

April 9. By turns Mary Liz and I bathe Scottie. Still the fever won’t come down. My baby

Many in town are dead. Most businesses are closed, as is the school. The newspaper comes out weekly now, only a single sheet with survival information. Garbage pickup continues irregularly, due to the gas shortage. Other services dependent on gas or electricity have been discontinued.

Two supproprietors inventoried canned goods and are rationing them out fairly. They tell us that after everything returns to normal we can pay them back.