Not bothering to knock I enter the room to find Dad still propped up. Eyes open just staring forward at nothing. He doesn't make for great conversation lately. I chuckle to myself trying to make light of the situation. In reality I hate to see him like this and it scares me. Especially after seeing the way Susanna was last night. I feel sorry for him. the worst has yet to come. I wonder if he's even aware I'm here. Let alone if he realizes he's here. I've been assuming his brain is just shut off for now. but maybe he's still inside too sick to even move. trying to communicate but completely unable. My heart breaks, I've completely lost my appetite. I put my head down and try to eat, pretending I'm sitting anywhere else.

I'm successfully sitting by a pond enjoying my meal when I start to cough. Snapped back to reality there's a smell so strong I begin to gag. I look at Dad and see him, mouth open eyes staring straight forward, and a steady stream of vomit. It's so thick and slow it hasn't even hit his lap yet. Eerily silent it inches closer and closer. I run into the hallway to get a bucket. Trying not to vomit myself. By the time I return with a bucket it has begun to pool on his lap I shove the bucket under his chin and look away as it fills. I notice his oatmeal is still sitting on the side table. If he hasn't eaten for a full day, where is all of this coming from. At least it's still brownish green. The lighting was poor that night though. perhaps Susanna's was not silver after all. Could have just been a trick reflection making it appear that way.

The bucket is nearly full by the time he finally stops. Must've been a full three minutes at least. I desperately want to avoid cleaning this up. I consider just retiring to my room. Taking my plate down later. Once I know Yoder has left for sure. But if Dad comes too and remembers all this I'd have no excuse. I can't just pretend it happened after I left the room. Not to mention the question of how the bucket got there. I curse myself for not having just gone straight to my room in the first place.

I pour the bucket out the window. It's not the right thing to do, but frankly I'm not sure what the right thing to do is. I do the same with the bed sheets. Definitely wrong but I need to get the smell out of the house. After grabbing a fresh blanket from the closet I stop. I look Father dead in the eyes and just watch. I realize, I don't think I've seen him blink at all since I've come in here. Minutes go by, still no blinking.

I am no doctor, I couldn't even pretend to know what I'm doing. But I do know enough to check a pulse. I grab his wrist and press down with my thumb. There's something going on in there. It doesn't feel anything like a normal pulse should. I drop his arm in disgust. after taking a moment to recenter myself. I check my own pulse to compare. rushing, but a steady beat as it should be. I go back to feel his again. No beat. Instead a feeling almost like little beads, rushing around in his veins. Constant movement in all directions. I check his other arm, then his neck. They both feel the same.

Leaving Dad I pause in the hallway and can overhear Father Yoder speak.

"Thank you for dinner Mrs.Lapp, it was delightful. I will be sure to keep your husband in my prayers tonight. And please do let Levi know there are no hard feelings regarding our conversation earlier. Tensions are high and it is hard for young men to set aside their emotions, sit back and let God's work unfold." God's work? what does he mean. God's work. God's work is death. Are we actually planning to do nothing, just wait for this disease to kill us all. Not even trying to see if the outside world has a cure. Do we even know if this is deadly. The only way we could know that is if... Susanna is already dead. Is my Father going to die? Am I going to die? My eyes swell with tears as I hear the door close behind Yoder.

"Levi!" Ma calls upstairs.

I gather my plate and begin to descend the stairs. Wiping the tears from my eyes and trying to compose myself. I don't want Ma to see me like this. I'd much rather be alone right now. But it will only be a few minutes I need to hold myself together. Once at the bottom of the stairs I begin speaking, Though I don't see mom by the door she likely went straight back to the kitchen.

"I heard him, no hard feelings on my end either."

Entering the kitchen I see Ma there at the table. Tears streaming down her face. Seeing this I'm about to burst out into tears myself. She obviously took the same meaning from his words as I did. I put my plate in the sink and make to leave. Not sure what else to do.

"How is he" She can barely get the words out.

"He..." I hesitate, wishing I could find a more delicate way to put this.

"He vomited. A lot." She begins to stand.

"I cleaned it already." She eases back down into the seat. I'll explain later that cleaned might not be entirely accurate. It dawns on me, Ma has nowhere to sleep without running the risk of being vomited on.

"Take my bed tonight, I'll sleep in the barn."

"Levi, you should not have to." I interrupt.

"Please, I can't have you catching whatever it is Dad has. Take my bed." Before she could protest further I left. Out the front door and into the barn. I should have stayed. Comforted her, we could have drank tea and talked. I just wanted to get out before the retching starts. I can't stomach the sound.

The barn is cold, drafty, and miserable. Spending the night here will be a challenge. We haven't had horses in a few years. But there are a few horse blankets, so I manage to rig myself somewhat of a bed. Piled up hay, a blanket draped over it and tucked in underneath. Another blanket over top to keep warm, and my overcoat as a pillow. A makeshift mattress of sorts. It's far from an ideal sleeping arrangement but it'll suffice. My bed is positioned against a wall. I clear out space in the middle of the barn for a fire. Plenty of matches and logs that we've already cut, stored in here. Dad would disapprove but I'm confident the fire is far enough away from anything else to cause any problems. Figuring I'll likely be spending the next few nights in here. I might as well make it a passably comfortable few nights.

Laying in my new bed I find it surprisingly cozy. Though this does not make sleep come any easier. Idle minds being what they are, my thoughts get carried away. Trying not to think about all that's going on I get up and busy myself. Stuffing the remaining blankets on the floor by the door to reduce the draft. Sweeping, tending the fire to keep myself occupied. But I'm exhausted, my head keeps dropping.

I close my eyes and I see Dad. Staring, I feel his pulse all over again. I see Susanna's silver glowing vomit. There is no way that was green. I'm lying to myself pretending it was anything but silver. I know what I saw. I ignore the reality that she might be dead.

Finally laying down again. I let it all wash over me. No use trying to ignore what's happening any longer. I decide to instead embrace it. Hours I lay here, in and out of sobbing fits. There may have been small patches where I slept, though I doubt it.

It starts feeling like a waste of time. I either need to get over it, or get better at ignoring it. I need to be strong if people really are dying. I need to go back to Susanna's to find out.