Fever
Her fever broke, so she went back to the basement to continue the canning from the day before. Her brother had finished the remaining jars of crushed tomatoes and green beans they removed from the garden earlier that day. It appeared that he even picked up the workstation and cleaned the utensils. 'Where is Josiah,' she thought.
She gathered two arm fulls of jars, headed to the kitchen, and put a large pot of water on to boil. 'Out back weeding? No, too late in the year. Then still sleeping! Perhaps. But it is so late in the day.' Her mind wandered away from the work at hand, and to her brother.
With the jars boiling, she would need help with the next step. Moving five-gallon buckets of fresh, ripe, red tomatoes to the canning cellar. Regardless of his beauty sleep, it was time to wake and help with chores.
She climbed the narrow stair which hid between the kitchen wall and the farmhouse's clapboard covering. A stench filled her nose. 'Ugh! Rotten tomatoes on his pants and shoes!'
"How many times must I remind you to leave your work boots outside, Josiah," she called aloud. No reply.
Turning the corner into his room, the bloated body of her youngest, and last remaining sibling greeted her. The fever had crept away from her in the night. And found purchase on another victim.
T H E E N D