Few of the men stopped to question the Darbeitpartei where the arms had come from, or why they were laid out and ready for use at an ostensibly peaceful gathering, or why there had been a brief burst of machinegunfire and nothing more in the face of a Communist attack. The vast majority of the three thousand accepted the reality of the Communist attack, and accepted the trappings of a new Germany before allowing themselves to be led into the gathering darkness.
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Darkness was swallowing the Darcy farmstead from the east as Wally approached from the west and its feeble light. Sally rushed out of the farmhouse when she saw the silhouette of her father’s hand grow in the twilight, and she herself was only a shadow lighter than others as she cried out in a sob that caused Wally to run the rest of the way to the farmyard.
“What is it?”
“Wally, Wally, Wally.” Sally took him by the neck and kissed him, lightly on the lips. “Ma and Pa are both sick.”
“Christ.” Wally trotted with her back across the farmyard and up the front steps to the porch of the farmhouse, only to be blocked from entry by an Ann who wore such a grim look on her face that Wally was stopped without a word being spoken. “How are they?”
“It’s the flu,” Ann replied in a very cold and matter-of-fact way. “Deborah’s put them to bed.”
Sally opened the screen door that separated her from her sister, but Ann’s expression only became fiercer when she did so, and Sally’s sister raised one forearm to rest it against the doorjamb. “You can’t come inside, Sally.”
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