An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4) by Darrell Maloney Page B

but couldn’t taste a thing. He only had one thing on his mind, and that was seeing Joyce.
         Sara volunteered to sit with her during the meal. It was her that actually came up with the idea. She got on the radio and asked John, “This plague thingy… you said it was spread by close contact, like sneezing or coughing real close to others, right?”
         “Uh… yeah. And it is also possible to pass it by touching someone.”
         “So… if I went to the first aid kit and got a disposable mask and pair of latex gloves, and then walked outside and left them on the back porch, then…”
         Her words clicked to everyone else on the radio. It was a brilliant idea.
         John picked up where Sara left off.
         “… then Scott could don the mask and gloves and go spend some time with his lady before he had to leave. Sara, you are my hero.”
         Scott picked up the radio. It was all he could do to muster three simple words: “Thank you, Sara.”
         Before she left the house, though, Sara went to the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and a hand towel. She’d never cleaned a dead body before. In fact, this was the first dead body she’d ever seen.
         But Sara wasn’t the timid little girl who’d come to the camp the year before. Maybe it was the group, challenging her to expand her comfort zone and try new things. Or maybe it was the pregnancy, and the responsibility of having and raising a baby.
         Whatever it was, she was no longer a child. She was wise beyond her eighteen years, and capable of darn near anything.
         She could do this.
         She didn’t want Scott’s last memory of Joyce to be a painful one. So she spent several minutes washing the dried blood from Joyce’s face and neck. Tenderly, as though Joyce could still feel pain, although she really knew better.
         When she was finished, she went into Joyce’s room and got her hairbrush.
         Joyce’s hair was long and thick. Covering up the bullet hole in her forehead was no problem, really. It took no time at all.
         When she was finished, she stood and stepped back a few steps.
         Under other circumstances, it would be easy to convince herself that Joyce was simply napping. She looked that peaceful.
         Two minutes later she was on the back porch, as promised. She laid a paper surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves on the top step, and walked over to the first picnic table. She sat next to Jordan, who was feeding little Chris. It wasn’t until she sat down that she finally allowed herself to cry.
         Scott waited until Sara was seated before he got up from his own table and walked over to the porch.
         He felt numb.
         This was something he didn’t want to do. No one ever wants to see a loved one like this.
         But he couldn’t go on without the chance to touch her once more. To see her face. To feel her skin.
         To tell her goodbye.
         He donned the mask first, then the gloves. Then he entered the house.
         The silence in the yard was deafening. No one said a word. No one made a sound, other than Sara’s gentle sobs. Most of the group, at both tables, had tears in their eyes or on their cheeks.
         And there was absolutely nothing that any of them could possibly say that would have made the situation more palatable.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    -13 -
     
         As he walked into the bedroom and saw Joyce laying there before him, Scott’s legs turned to putty. He fell to his knees by her side and started sobbing almost uncontrollably.
         “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should never have left. I should have been by your side. I shouldn’t have left you here to fend for yourself.”
         He almost took his gloves off to feel the softness of her cheek one last time. But no. He couldn’t risk it. He