Forty-Six

FORTY-SIX

Diana opened her eyes. The smell awoke her. Next to her Michael pressed his face towards the sliding window, sucking air into his lungs.

“Ooof. He’s getting bad,” Julia said.

Michael closed the window again.

“Why don’t you leave it open?” Diana asked, sitting upright. Her body ached, bones cracked. Her bladder felt at bursting point.

Sarah held a handkerchief to her nose and inhaled the eucalyptus oil in its fibers. The scent reminded her of home. “There’s about a billion fucking flies wanting to get in here, best to keep them shut, methinks.”

“You know, for an old woman you swear like a sailor,” Julia said. They smiled at each other.

“Oh, my God!” Michael said.

Everyone whipped their heads to the house.

The father stood in the side yard, having come out the back door without them noticing. His stillness sent a universal chill through their bodies. They waited for him to move, or to maybe draw an axe from the shadows and run at them. But there was none of that, just