Read Online The Seventh Day by Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson
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triplets, but look nothing alike. Julia has
soft-brown eyes and dark-brown hair. Lissie has bright-blue eyes and shiny
blonde hair. Joey has gray-blue eyes and reddish-brown hair, like Dad and me.
But they’re all about the same size and height. They all have perfect little
faces and funky ten-year-old teeth that are half baby teeth and half adult.
They are children. I smile through the sickening feeling in my stomach and
spoon the noodles into the bowls. “Here, girls.”
They leave the crayons and paper at the old
coffee table and climb up to the dining room table my mom bought at a garage
sale. They sit silently and eat from the bowls that were ours when we were
little.
I take a bite from the pot, noticing it is
missing that buttery taste that milk and butter add. Lissie gives me a look.
“This isn’t as good as my mom’s.”
“No butter and no milk. I had to add a bit
of water to it. We have to ration the milk.” I sigh. “This is something we’re
going to have to get used to. Everything is going to be plain and boring until
they can make the sick people better and stuff.”
Their little faces drop and Julia stops eating.
I’m
an idiot.
I sit down at the table. “So, who here was
in Girl Scouts?”
Lissie scowls. “Not me. I’m in ballet.”
It makes me chuckle as I nod at Julia and
Joey. “You two were though. What did you learn there?”
Julia shrugs. “We didn't do anything. We
made marshmallow banana boats and helped old people.”
“Did you learn to make fires or cut
firewood or cook or anything?”
Joey grins. “I can make toast on a fire
like Dad taught us and I can make smoothies in the Magic Bullet.”
Lissie raises her hand. “I can do that
too.”
I eat another bite and laugh harder. “I
don't think we have any of those. Until they fix the sick it’s going to be
fires and eating as little as possible.”
Joey looks at the window. “What about Dad?
Do you think he’s with Mom yet?”
I nod, swallowing the bitter taste that
suddenly fills my mouth. “I do.” I dish Furgus up some of his canned dog food
and nod at the sink of warm water I heated up. “You girls are on dishes.”
Julia cocks an eyebrow. “No dishwasher?”
Joey slaps her hand against her head and
Lissie snickers. “Of course not.”
Julia ducks behind her bowl. “Oh yeah. I
forgot. Man, we gotta hand wash like the dark ages.
Remember when we watched that cartoon and they were hand washing the dishes and
he used magic to do it? Why can’t we have magic?”
I sigh and put the pot on the counter.
“That's not the only thing that's like the dark ages. I’m going for firewood so
we can make it warm again tonight.” I grab my handgun and glance out the
windows. There is nothing but a fresh layer of snow on the gravel. I pull the
chair from the door, my stomach instantly feeling the flutterings of anxiety.
I wrap my fingers around the knob and
swallow hard.
When I turn the locks and crack the door,
the cold air rushes in at me. It smells fresh and inviting. What a lie.
My heart is trying to dig its way out of my
chest, but I manage to step out onto the porch without running back inside like
a little girl—like the little girl I am still.
“Lou!”
I jump and look back at the house, pressing my back against the door I’ve slammed far
too loud. The girls are all standing there in the doorway. Joey gives me a
hilarious face. “What are you doing? We gotta—go.”
It takes several breaths for me to get my
heart rate back to reasonable. “Let’s not do shouting like that. Everyone speak
calmly so I don't have a heart attack.”
“We gotta go.” They furrow their brows,
making me snort as I get the door open again. My ears perk up, listening for
anything that might have heard us.
I glance at the ramp that leads beside the
house. It’s high for when the snow falls. The whole house is built high. It
should be safe so I nod. “Stay together.” They slip past me, scrambling up the
thin catwalk to
soft-brown eyes and dark-brown hair. Lissie has bright-blue eyes and shiny
blonde hair. Joey has gray-blue eyes and reddish-brown hair, like Dad and me.
But they’re all about the same size and height. They all have perfect little
faces and funky ten-year-old teeth that are half baby teeth and half adult.
They are children. I smile through the sickening feeling in my stomach and
spoon the noodles into the bowls. “Here, girls.”
They leave the crayons and paper at the old
coffee table and climb up to the dining room table my mom bought at a garage
sale. They sit silently and eat from the bowls that were ours when we were
little.
I take a bite from the pot, noticing it is
missing that buttery taste that milk and butter add. Lissie gives me a look.
“This isn’t as good as my mom’s.”
“No butter and no milk. I had to add a bit
of water to it. We have to ration the milk.” I sigh. “This is something we’re
going to have to get used to. Everything is going to be plain and boring until
they can make the sick people better and stuff.”
Their little faces drop and Julia stops eating.
I’m
an idiot.
I sit down at the table. “So, who here was
in Girl Scouts?”
Lissie scowls. “Not me. I’m in ballet.”
It makes me chuckle as I nod at Julia and
Joey. “You two were though. What did you learn there?”
Julia shrugs. “We didn't do anything. We
made marshmallow banana boats and helped old people.”
“Did you learn to make fires or cut
firewood or cook or anything?”
Joey grins. “I can make toast on a fire
like Dad taught us and I can make smoothies in the Magic Bullet.”
Lissie raises her hand. “I can do that
too.”
I eat another bite and laugh harder. “I
don't think we have any of those. Until they fix the sick it’s going to be
fires and eating as little as possible.”
Joey looks at the window. “What about Dad?
Do you think he’s with Mom yet?”
I nod, swallowing the bitter taste that
suddenly fills my mouth. “I do.” I dish Furgus up some of his canned dog food
and nod at the sink of warm water I heated up. “You girls are on dishes.”
Julia cocks an eyebrow. “No dishwasher?”
Joey slaps her hand against her head and
Lissie snickers. “Of course not.”
Julia ducks behind her bowl. “Oh yeah. I
forgot. Man, we gotta hand wash like the dark ages.
Remember when we watched that cartoon and they were hand washing the dishes and
he used magic to do it? Why can’t we have magic?”
I sigh and put the pot on the counter.
“That's not the only thing that's like the dark ages. I’m going for firewood so
we can make it warm again tonight.” I grab my handgun and glance out the
windows. There is nothing but a fresh layer of snow on the gravel. I pull the
chair from the door, my stomach instantly feeling the flutterings of anxiety.
I wrap my fingers around the knob and
swallow hard.
When I turn the locks and crack the door,
the cold air rushes in at me. It smells fresh and inviting. What a lie.
My heart is trying to dig its way out of my
chest, but I manage to step out onto the porch without running back inside like
a little girl—like the little girl I am still.
“Lou!”
I jump and look back at the house, pressing my back against the door I’ve slammed far
too loud. The girls are all standing there in the doorway. Joey gives me a
hilarious face. “What are you doing? We gotta—go.”
It takes several breaths for me to get my
heart rate back to reasonable. “Let’s not do shouting like that. Everyone speak
calmly so I don't have a heart attack.”
“We gotta go.” They furrow their brows,
making me snort as I get the door open again. My ears perk up, listening for
anything that might have heard us.
I glance at the ramp that leads beside the
house. It’s high for when the snow falls. The whole house is built high. It
should be safe so I nod. “Stay together.” They slip past me, scrambling up the
thin catwalk to
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