Read Online Swarm by Lauren Carter - Free Book Online

the stone foundation of an old barn up the road. They move on their stick-thin legs, their brown bodies hovering above the milkweed pods and rust-coloured grass. I’d already heard them. They were calling the day before when I was in the kitchen, cleaning last year’s jars. Their strange, prehistoric warble. Thomson was too sick to walk up the road to see them so I laid down my barbecue tongs and went into the living room and opened the door.
    â€œListen.”
    â€œThe dinosaurs,” he said and closed his eyes. Gently, I wiped a bubble of spit from the corner of his mouth. He twisted away from me.
    Have you heard them, Melissa? They are on their way to the Gulf of Mexico, a thousand miles south. Once upon a time we would have thought nothing of travelling such a distance. Now it’s hard to imagine going such a long way away or even what it’s like there, the mazes of salt marshes still tarry with oil from the spill that happened when I was just a girl, probably no bigger than you.
    â€œHow’s Thomson?” Samuel asked. He put a hand on his father’s arm and bent sideways to look around me. I stepped aside so he could see. The bald top of Thomson’s head. Liver spots and wispy white hairs.
    â€œNot so good.” I wiped the sweat from my face with a clean corner of my apron. “We’re waiting for the ship.”
    Mr. Bobiwash walked around the easy chair so he was facing Thomson.
    â€œJack,” said Thomson, lifting an arm, his fingers crooked.
    Mr. Bobiwash squeezed Thomson’s hand. “You’re a lazy son of a bitch.”
    Thomson laughed, a weak chortle. Samuel stood in the doorway, watching.
    I heard the hiss of the water as it boiled over onto the hot top of the cook stove. My jars rattled violently against the sides of the aluminum pot. “Marvin’s in the shed,” I told them, but they followed me into the kitchen. I held a spoonful of sugar out for Samuel although we didn’t have much left. He grinned but shook his head and I realized how old he was getting. Almost sixteen, nearly a man. Mr. Bobiwash gestured to the kitchen door, the garden outside. “That’s a big fence.”
    â€œDeer,” I lied, scooping boiling tomatoes into the hot jars. Samuel screwed on the lids.
    â€œDon’t burn yourself.” I glanced at Mr. Bobiwash. “How is Shannon?” I wanted to change the subject. Only a few weeks ago, his wife had squatted between two poplars, her hands holding their narrow trunks, and delivered her baby. The small head crowned as blood gushed onto a carpet of pine needles. I helped Sarah, the midwife, by pulling the sharp knife from her leather satchel and boiling it clean so she could cut the cord. We talked about how hospitals used to be. All that shiny, functional steel. Clean green uniforms. Masks and disposable latex gloves. Babies died now. More than before.
    Afterwards, with the tiny, purple infant in my arms, I thought about my mother. How she would have been proud. Not a flinch in me. Just this eager humming. The sound in your ears when you’re running hard but happy. She was proud of me when I lived in the city. Proud that I worked for Parthenon. But that was before I was let go, before the dark zone and Walter and Phoenix. Before I irrevocably faded from their lives. I didn’t even know if they were still alive. I tried not to think about that.
    â€œThe baby’s got that red stain,” Mr. Bobiwash said, gesturing as if removing a mask.
    â€œIt’s just a birthmark.”
    â€œIt’s dry. I think it’s itchy.”
    â€œThe salve isn’t helping?” I wiped spilled tomatoes off the counter.
    He shook his head. He stared at the jars that filled the counter, which would sit until their lids popped. “She isn’t feeding either.”
    â€œCan Sarah help with that?”
    Mr. Bobiwash wobbled his head, staring down at the ground. I didn’t want to pry so I