by Connor Mccoy
Stopping in front of her stove, Sarah sighed. “Him and the whole damn bunch. James, Lacey, Jerry, Sergeant.”
“Lacey?” Tom brushed his leg. “That was…”
“Conrad’s mom.” Sarah raised her head. “She had these eyes, they seemed like they could bore right through you. She never talked much at all. Jerry, oh Lord, he never shut up, and God help you if you got close, he’d grab your arm, slap your back, and his breath was always terrible. He drank and ate the richest food and never cared to chew on a mint if he was in company. He hit on me even when he knew Conrad and I were going out.” Sarah put the two pots, which still had water in them, back on the stove.
“Sarge, he was like half Conrad and half James. He had more common sense in him, but he could really blow his stack. It got worse as he got older. It was like his father’s blood in him took over.” A tremor ran through her body. “I was spooked that the same thing would happen to Conrad.”
“I guess I can see why you call them a bunch of hillbillies,” Tom said.
Sarah chuckled once as she relit the stove. “Their house, that did it all for me. It was a big house with creaky wooden floors and cracks in the walls, and the whole place had two sections added on to it that never matched. You can thank Jerry for that.” She looked away. “The walls also had a few booze stains. The bottles flew in that house. Sometimes when Conrad walked close to the kitchen or the back porch, he’d shake or twitch a little. A lot of the family fights must have gone on there and he’d always remember it.”
Tom folded his arms. “Conrad never turned out like his folks. He didn’t, right?”
Sarah didn’t respond. Tom’s skin burned. In the time Tom had spent with Conrad trying to rescue Sarah, he had not witnessed the anger or rage that Sarah had described. But if Conrad hadn’t become like his dad, then Sarah might be feeling guilty about leaving him.
What if she regretted it? Did she still harbor feelings for him?
“I believed Conrad would be different from his dad. But then I wasn’t sure. I panicked. I imagined all that shouting, the boozing, that it’d be in my house. Any time Conrad and I argued, I pictured his father’s face over his.” Sarah tensed up. “I didn’t give him a chance.”
Tom nodded. “What do you think of him now?”
Sarah turned away. “He helped save my life. He gave us a roof to sleep under. What else can I say?”
Tom stepped back, afraid to press any further. For the next few minutes, Sarah continued with her work. Tom figured this would be the right time to slip away.
As he walked back toward the ranch, he wondered what could be churning in Sarah’s consciousness right now. The two of the seemed to have made up, but Sarah had not wanted to sleep together since they arrived, which was fine with Tom. As far as Tom was concerned, he owed Sarah a lot and had no desire to pressure her on anything.
Still, he wished he could help Sarah, and right now he wasn’t sure he was a help for much of anything.
CHAPTER TWO
THE LIGHT of the candle illuminated Conrad’s bedroom mirror, allowing the man to see his own reflection with the slight help of the brightening sky through the window. The time spent at his father’s grave yesterday had given him a lot to think about. As he ran his hand through his gray beard, he wondered about shaving it off.
He had worn beards on and off in his young adult years, but when he decided to move out to the city, he had shaved it off completely, thinking he’d fit in better with his urban surroundings. But in time, the clean-shaven face that looked back at him through his bedroom and bathroom mirrors seemed too young, too vulnerable. It didn’t reflect who he wanted to be. After moving here about thirty years ago, he let the whiskers grow again.
But reminiscing about the past had stirred old feelings in him. Cutting off the beard seemed to be a way to turn back the clock. Would he look more like his younger self again? Sure, his hair had gone white and gray, but a clean-shaven face still would erase some of the mileage.
An ache then seized his right hand. Wincing, he rubbed his knuckles. Sure, he might look younger, but he wouldn’t feel younger. The signs of age were catching up with him. Still, he figured he would live perhaps thirty more years or so. After all, his own father had made it into his nineties. Why wouldn’t he?
A chill ran across his arm. True, his father lived a long time, but he spent his last few years in degraded health. His caretaker had outlined a steady decline for his father, even before he was hit with his first stroke. He told him of the aches and pains that made it hard for the formerly spry man to walk without a cane and, in the months before the stroke, a walker.
What are you going to do? Conrad thought. How long are you going to keep up this homestead? Odds are you’re not going to keep going at your pace for too much longer.
The ghosts of the past haunted him. His dad’s aged face stared back at him like a phantom in his mirror. His mother then appeared, hair white and limp, before a heart attack claimed her. His brother Jerry was stricken with cancer. And finally, Sarge, who retreated into too many bottles, despite Conrad’s entreaties that his brother stop. What would Conrad’s end be like?
“Dad!”
Conrad gasped. The phantom vanished from sight. He turned, finding Liam and Carla standing in his open doorway.
“Are you alright?” Carla asked, tilting her head. “You looked like you took a trip to la-la land.”
“No kidding,” Liam added.
Conrad wiped a bead of sweat off his face. “Oh, just indulging myself in some vanity. Thinking of losing the whiskers. What do you two think?”
Carla laughed. “I don’t know. I think you look better with a beard. It’s kind of rustic and dignified.”
“Dignified, huh?” Conrad stroked his beard. “I like that. So, what’s on your minds?”
Liam swallowed. “Carla and I have been talking. We’ve been wondering if we could go into town and find a doctor. Actually, we don’t know if there’s one available. We thought you’d know.”
“A doctor in town? Not in Hooper City. That’s the closest. Why? Are you two feeling okay?”
“Well, it’s more like three of us now.” Carla patted her stomach. Although she was pregnant, she had yet to show visible signs of the child within her. “And that’s what we’re concerned about. We’d like somebody to take a look at me. And hopefully, we can have a doctor with us when the time comes for my bundle of joy to make his, or her, appearance.”
“There’s got to be somebody out there,” Liam said. “What about your ham radio? You can call somebody. There’s got to be doctors who are helping people.”
Conrad cast an eye back to the mirror. As it turned out, he did have somebody in mind. “Don’t worry. I know a man who can help us.”
“Great,” Liam said, “Can you call him in on your radio, or does he live in town? Can we go and get him?”
Conrad smiled. “You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll fetch him for you.”
Carla yawned. “Well, if we’ve got that taken care of, I still want to help put away our last load of cabbages.” She playfully patted Liam on the back before leaving.
Conrad watched her go. Once Carla had walked off, he spoke quietly to Liam. “Busy as a mass of bees, isn’t she?”
“She wants to be.” Liam yawned. “I think she’s just glad to live in a peaceful home. She never takes that for granted.”
Conrad understood what Liam meant. Carla’s early life wasn’t as bad as Conrad’s, but Carla still suffered in her formative years, shuttled through the foster system and ending up in the hands of parents who didn’t pay much attention to her. She had been forced to steal food until she was taken out of that home and put in the care of an older man who raised her to adulthood. Carla might be a bubbly young lady, but she knew happiness didn’t come easy, and sometimes wasn’t easily earned.
Conrad stepped around until he faced his boy. “That’s good, but you should pull her back a little. She’s not just carrying your kid and my g
randchild. She’s got the future in her. If she has to put her feet up, let her do it.”
Liam sighed. “Neither one of us wants to lounge around when there’s work to do.”
“Raising the new generation trumps a hand in the field,” Conrad said. “Besides, I’m wondering if you got something else on your mind?”
Liam stiffened up. “It sounds like you’re going to have to leave to find this doctor. You didn’t exactly spill the details.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal. Doctor Darber actually doesn’t live very far from here, but I don’t want to cause a big ruckus.” Conrad narrowed his eyes. “Look, just don’t ask too many questions. If it got out that I had to go, Camilla almost certainly would want to come with me. You’ve seen how she is whenever my safety’s in question.”
“I can kind of understand it myself,” Liam said, recalling his first conversation with Camilla inside his father’s home. Camilla was shaken when Liam and Carla told her they had left Conrad in Redmond to brave Maggiano’s men. “For a few days, we didn’t know whether you were coming back at all. You could have been killed and we’d never know.”
Conrad bowed his head slightly. “I hate that I had to send you away like that. I’m sorry. But we both know it was the right thing to do.” He coughed. “Even so, I know it didn’t guarantee your safety at all. So, whatever I’ll do, I’ll do it quickly.”
Liam smiled crookedly. “Just tell me you don’t have any more personal enemies out there.”
Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Enemies? Me? I’m just a humble Midwestern farmer. Who’d have a problem with me?”
“Dad…”
“Trust me, I wish I could tell you. I took Derrick for a hothead, but never a killer and a bandit.” Conrad then grasped Liam by the hand. “Don’t worry. You’ve got Tom and Sarah to help defend the home. The odds will be better this time. We’ve been through the fire. I think we can handle more than we think.”
Liam grasped Conrad’s hand. “Just try and make it back quickly all the same, please.”
Conrad nodded once. “You got my word on that.”
CONRAD TOOK one more look at the map lying on the drafting table in front of him. The table took up the last bit of space between the wall corner and a small work bench. It was so tightly placed that the table’s edges nearly slid against the wall corner on the table’s left side.
Conrad finally finished examining the land around the town of South Bend. If something goes bad on this trip, I could flee toward that river. It’s a popular stream, with farmers up and down the line. He traced the water up the map, stopping near the top. It sounded like a good plan. In the event he lost his bike, or it was damaged, he could flee into the woods near this river and hike upstream to a point just a few miles from State Road 22. Then he stood a good shot of making it back home, provided a band of pursuers didn’t cut him off.
“Always have a plan or two,” he whispered.
As he rolled up the map, he imagined Sarah’s voice in his head. Conrad, you’re the most paranoid person I’ve ever met on this Earth, except for the guys on the radio. We don’t have to worry about losing power for years or months. There’s people who always take care of that stuff. Now come on, pull your head out of that stuff, and let’s talk about going to Hawaii. For God’s sake, I feel like I’m going nowhere in this state. Let’s have some fun!
Conrad finished rolling up his map. He hadn’t dreamt of Sarah’s voice in a long time. More and more, he expected her to show up in the doorway, commenting on something he was doing, usually aiming a snide or exasperated comment his way.
Conrad was about to leave his workshop when he noticed the cloth-covered load on the small table by the door. He knew what lay underneath, but he couldn’t resist a look. He pulled the cloth back, revealing Sarah’s jars. She had canned twenty in all for the day. He picked up a jar of apricots and looked at it. Then he gently pressed his thumb on the lid, feeling the concave pit on the center. These jars looked well sealed.
A surge of pride welled up inside him. “We’ll make a frontiersman of you yet, Sarah,” he said quietly. “Excuse me, frontierswoman,” he added. Canning may not be as difficult as hunting, fishing or growing crops, but it would do as a start. Besides, canning was vital to preserving their food throughout the coming cold months.
I guess now it’s all different, Conrad thought. The Sarah of the past would have thought it crazy to pick up these skills. He wondered, though, how much Sarah had changed since they parted those years ago. He had not heavily interacted with her since she had arrived here. Sarah would no doubt have her share of mysteries to reveal in the coming days.
He opened up a small plastic case from a work bench, then picked up a few of the jars and set them inside the case. These would be perfect for his errand later on.
The hall floor creaked. Given the night sky outside, Conrad knew who would be up and about. A new routine had set in since the battle with Derrick Wellinger. Conrad, Liam, Carla and Camilla awoke early at sunrise, while Tom and Sarah woke a few hours later. By night, Liam, Carla and Camilla would turn in, while Conrad stayed up longer, and Tom and Sarah would help with keeping watch. Conrad actually hadn’t planned this setup. It seemed to have evolved, as Tom and Sarah knew almost nothing about farming life and weren’t immediately ready to handle the chores. Besides, Sarah had been through too much of an ordeal for Conrad to push her into daily farming life. He felt canning was a good place to start for her.
Conrad opened the door. Indeed, Sarah was out there, wearing a belt with a sidearm snug in a holster. She also was carrying a shotgun. Conrad’s eyes widened. This was not a sight he’d have imagined, not while he was married to her, and certainly not in the years while they were separated. Conrad hadn’t even asked her to keep watch. Tom volunteered, and Sarah then asked to help him. At first Conrad suspected Sarah just wanted to be by her man’s side, but lately he got the feeling she was truly into this.
I wondered how much she changed? Conrad thought. Seems like she changed a lot.
“You’re up late, even for you,” Sarah said.
“Just doing some land research. Keeping some local details in the old noggin.” He tapped his forehead. “So, what’s your story?”
“Tom and I are going to take a look at the fence,” she replied. “He’s putting in the solar batteries for the flashlights. Shouldn’t be long.”
“I’ll stay up until you two get back inside. Don’t forget to turn in soon. I don’t want you two to turn into night owls and stumble around like zombies in the daytime.”
“Says you.” Sarah smirked. “You never go to bed before anyone else. Maybe Tom and I will push you and see if you still get your bones out of bed before six in the morning.”
“You know I’m not a heavy sleeper,” Conrad said.
“Well, I know you weren’t.” Sarah bit her lip. “It’s been a long time. We kind of got old since then.”
Conrad chuckled. “Hey, I was still a few years off from collecting Social Security before the world got its lights shut off. So, I hadn’t crossed that line yet.”
“Makes me feel stupid for paying payroll taxes all those years,” Tom said as he crossed into the living room from the kitchen. Then he nodded to Sarah. “The lights are ready.”
Sarah started walking toward Tom. “Thanks.” Then she addressed Conrad as she followed Tom through the kitchen. “You don’t have to wait up. I’ll lock it all down when I’m done.”
Conrad watched her leave, listening to the loud thumps of her boots. No doubt about it. Serving as security for the homestead had filled Sarah with vigor. Perhaps it was just the motherly instinct to protect her son and her grandchild?
She doesn’t want to be a victim anymore, he thought. That might be it. If she ever was accosted again, she didn’t want to be helpless. The next time, her would-be abductors would take a bullet in the chest and head before they took her.
Also, Conrad couldn’t help but bristle when Tom came in. Was Conrad feeling jealous? No, th
at couldn’t be it. There was nothing between him and Sarah except the desire to protect their offspring, even if they were no longer husband and wife. In the time since, they had grown too far apart for any reconciliation to occur. Besides, Conrad and Sarah each had new significant others.
But neither one of us remarried, Conrad thought. Perhaps that was a sign that it wasn’t truly over.
“Damn it all, Conrad,” he whispered to himself, “Stop wrestling with old phantoms and get with it.”
He angrily cursed himself out in his head as he walked to his bedroom. There was more work to be done, and he had to do it quickly before he went to sleep. He had an early rise tomorrow—earlier than usual.
CHAPTER THREE
“EASY, SON,” Ronald Darber said as the young man stumbled up Darber’s porch steps, with the soft rays of the morning sun bouncing off the youngster’s back. Darber dashed across the porch and made it to the box in the courier’s hands before it slipped completely from his grasp. Darber took hold of it and then carried the load through his front door.
“Come in and sit down,” Darber said, “Good lord, don’t they ever feed you?”
The young man shuffled inside, doubled over. He was so out of it that Darber feared the man would collapse on his floor. Darber took hold of his guest by his right arm and helped him to an easy chair in the Darber living room. Fortunately, the house was small, with the living room, kitchen, and small physician’s office all easily accessible within several steps. A soft breeze blew through the window screens. The man moaned loudly before plopping down in the soft seat.
Darber took a quick look in the box. Fruits, vegetables, and a bottle of water. The rations came as promised. So, Kurt was pleased with Darber this week. Darber let out a contented sigh. Four times in the past, he accidentally had irritated Kurt over something, perhaps a misspoken word or a facial expression that seemed to Kurt like a scowl or a sneer, although Darber meant no disrespect. In response, Kurt would delay the rations by a day or so as a way to toy with him. Kurt was a complicated fellow. Most of the time he never let on when he was being slighted, or thought he was being slighted.
