women, if you can.”
“And then what?” I dreaded the answer.
“Then you and your young man meet me back here before sunset.” The old man pursed his wrinkly mouth. “I’ll bring the kerosene.”
I scurried into the kitchen, unable to breathe. I opened up the window, let the breeze push the drapes aside. Behind me, above me, in the rest of the house, I could hear gasps and cries as those of us who had been assigned the unfortunate task of taking out the dead saw what had happened, what had become of our neighbors.
I rifled through the cupboards for garlic, at last locating three splintering bulbs in the bottom of a potato sack. I stuffed the bulbs into my apron pockets, confident that no one would smell the garlic on me above the hideous copper stench that clung to the walls.
I minced around the first floor, opening windows. I kept my back to the bodies. Many of the women and even some of the men fled the house in tears, unable to contemplate the job. Eventually, the Elder who had been frozen in the doorway was shoved to the side. He moved out onto the porch, where he began to pray.
I took a deep breath and walked toward Ruth, where she lay on the floor. I stared at her for a long time, overwhelmed by the task before me. I had been to funerals. I had helped prepare my grandmother for burial. I’d washed her with soap and water, lovingly dressed her and set her out on a table with my mother’s help. But this . . . this was too much. I didn’t know where to start.
“It’s all right, dear.”
A woman in her sixties stood beside me, Frau Gerlach, the midwife. I had always thought her to be somewhat uptight and disapproving. She always seemed to scowl. But I realized that she and I were the only women remaining in the house. I dimly remembered that her husband had been a butcher.
Frau Gerlach nodded to herself. “Let’s take her to the spring room. You grab her head and shoulders; I’ll get her feet.”
I crouched down beside Ruth, gingerly slipping my hands under her arms. Frau Gerlach grabbed her bare feet.
“Lift.”
As I heaved upward, an anguished howl emanated from the doorway. I looked up, half expecting to see that the lone remaining Elder had lost his mind.
But it was Elijah. He stared in horror at the body in our arms, then at my face. He limped into the house, elbowed Frau Gerlach aside. Someone must have driven him here, against all good judgment . . .
Frau Gerlach dropped Ruth’s feet. Her legs thudded to the floor and the body pitched to the left. A piece of intestine hit the floor with a wet smack. I struggled to lay her body back down, while Elijah tried to take her from me.
“Elijah, no!” I shouted at him. “She’s dead. Leave her alone!”
Elijah sobbed unintelligibly. I felt a short pang of sympathy for him.
Frau Gerlach shouted into the yard for some men who were able to stomach handling the living. Two men dragged Elijah from the house, kicking and yelling.
I sank to my knees with Ruth’s heavy head in my lap.
Frau Gerlach bent down beside me. “We can make quick work of this. I promise.”
I nodded numbly. We picked up Ruth’s body again and descended down a short series of steps behind the kitchen to the spring room.
The Hersberger spring room was larger than ours and more modern, with running water. We awkwardly wrestled the limp corpse into a bathtub. Dim light filtered in from a basement window that Frau Gerlach tugged open. She reached for a lantern, lit it, and I was instantly grateful for the warm yellow light it cast. I didn’t think that I could bear to be alone in the dark with Ruth’s body.
“Now what?” I panted.
Frau Gerlach stared at the dead girl. She fingered the shower curtain. “Find scissors. And a set of clothes for her.”
I scurried to the laundry area of the spring room, popped open the lid of the gas dryer. I prayed to find some of Ruth’s clothes here. I did not want to go upstairs again.
I found one of her dresses, an apron, and a bonnet in a laundry basket. I located a pair of shoes that looked like they might fit her beside the door upstairs and snatched some scissors from the kitchen. I did not make eye contact with the two men who were staring at Ruth’s brother and Herr Hersberger with their hands in their pockets. The Hexenmeister stood with them. His hand was behind his back, and I saw garlic in it.
I fled back downstairs to the spring room. Frau Gerlach took the scissors from me to cut the nightdress from Ruth’s body. She clucked as she looked at the dripping mess in her abdomen. She handed me the scissors and gestured to the shower curtain with her chin.
“Cut that into two-foot-wide strips.”
I ripped the shower curtain down, spread it out on the floor, and began to measure it out using my forearm. Frau Gerlach looked over my shoulder.
“Very good. I’m going upstairs for some twine. I’ll be back.”
Her footsteps receded, and I finished cutting the strips with my back to Ruth. I wasn’t ready to face her. Not yet.
But I had to.
I turned around, crept to the bathtub.
Ruth lay like a gangly spider, sprawled on the porcelain. She was all legs and breasts, I noticed. Well, what wasn’t torn open by the vampires. Frau Gerlach had turned her so that the remaining blood trickled from her belly down the drain. She had closed the girl’s eyes. Her ruddy matted hair was stuck to one side of her head.
I touched her forehead. I was sorry that I’d hated her. Truly sorry.
I reached into my pocket, broke apart one of the garlic bulbs. I had only three, so I had to figure out a way to make this last. I plucked out three cloves, reached for her mouth.
Awkwardly, I stuffed my fingers into her mouth to pry apart her teeth. My stomach turned when I heard something pop. But I ignored my nausea and jammed the cloves under her swollen tongue. I thought I heard a small hiss of air escaping as I did so.
I shuddered, pulled my fingers back. I braced one hand on the top of her head, the other on her chin, and closed her jaws. I brushed away a small fragment of garlic at her lip, then let out a shaking breath. I wasn’t sure exactly what this was supposed to accomplish, but I was more than willing to obey the Hexenmeister.
Frau Gerlach returned to the room with a spool of scratchy brown twine.
“At least those men are useful for something,” she grumbled. “Ask them to do something that has nothing to do with blood, and they’re all over it.”
I cracked a smile.
She nodded at me. “Men are essentially useless for the difficult things in life. For births and deaths, one clearheaded woman is more useful than a half-dozen men.”
She knelt beside the body. “Go get me one of those strips from the shower curtain you cut.”
I brought one to her. I had no idea what she intended.
She blew a steel-gray piece of hair out of her eyes. “We’re going to pretend that she’s a package. We’re going to wrap the curtain around her to hold the insides in and tie it with twine.”
I swallowed. “What do you need me to do?”
“Get behind her at the back of the bathtub and prop her into a sitting position. I’ll need you to hold her arms up while I wrap.”
It was easier said than done. Ruth was simply dead weight, and it was difficult to keep her upright. Frau Gerlach quickly wrapped her with the shower curtain from her armpits to her thighs, trying to stuff bits of her intestines back into the cavity. She then followed her tracks with the twine, tying very tightly to make sure that nothing escaped, as if Ruth were a rump roast.
Then we washed her. Frau Gerlach was all business, scrubbing at the blood stains on Ruth’s skin with a sponge and soap. She didn’t fill the tub, not wanting to loosen the twine. I gingerly scrubbed at Ruth’s hair with shampoo, rinsing red from it under the tap.
“Go ahead and scrub, girl. Ruth’s in no condition to mind.”
