WWIV - Hope In The Darkness

by E A Lake

  Henry reached over the side of the wagon and peeled back one of lids. With everyone still silent, the ripping cardboard split the morning air like a gunshot. Both guards shared an indiscernible glance with one another. Pulling the elixir from the container, Henry handed the bottle to Mac. “It’s the real stuff. From Milwaukee, the boxes say.” His eyes moved from Mac to his guards, noticing them stiffen as time crawled by. “A friend gave it to me to trade. We have a new family in need, and he’s willing to trade his inventory for food.”

  Mac studied the bottle carefully. After a long pause, the giant nodded his head several times, apparently trying to decide what to do with such a find. Finally, Henry nudged him with the side of the barrel of his gun.

  “Ten cases for a wagon full of food. I want at least a third of it to be meat products. No dairy, no poultry; we can provide all of that for them.” His eyes watched the other two men as Mac contemplated his words.

  Mac grinned greatly. “Or…” He chuckled as he spoke. “…me and the boys just take it from you. And no one gets hurt, right?” Mac winked at his second in command, who returned his wink with a grin of his own. Each of the three started to laugh – small at first but then much heartier. The group shared a quick nod that was only cut off by Henry’s next words.

  “No one but you, that is,” Henry said in almost a whisper. In the middle of the revelry, all had failed to notice him slipping the gun through his hands. Instead of innocently pointing off into the bright blue sky, the open barrel now pointed directly at Mac’s billowing belly.

  Eyes shifted quickly as the three post members realized that Henry now held the upper hand. Cautiously, the two guards began lowering the guns hoping to get a bead on the old man, or his son at the very least.

  Henry noticed the ploy and shook his head, smiling. “Move those guns another inch and you’ll be working for yourselves, boys.”

  They stopped and stared at Mac for guidance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mac let out a booming laugh, a laugh that shook his belly like an old dime store Santa back when the world was simple, before all of this. Reaching over, he slapped Henry’s shoulder. “Oh Henry,” he coughed out between laughs, “I’m just fooling with you. We can trade, maybe not all you’re asking for, but we can trade.”

  Finally, Henry winked up at Jonah. His son slumped in his seat, looking like he’d rather throw up than continue. “Wagon full of food,” Henry instructed still staring at Jonah. “And a lot of meat products. We have many mouths to feed.”

  Mac’s face contorted as he peered skyward, considering the trade. “Half a wagon and ten pounds of meat.” Henry shook his emotionless face at the counter-offer.

  Mac frowned. “Okay, how about three quarters of the wagon full and ten pounds?”

  Henry stepped past Mac and toward the front of the wagon. “I think I’ll run over southwest of Baraboo and see what that Hansen fellow will trade me for.” Mounting the wagon, he sat and tipped his hat at Mac.

  “Wait,” Mac implored extending his hands to Henry. “Let’s be reasonable. Here, I have an idea.” He rubbed his face and stared sideways. “Twenty pounds of meat and poultry. Twenty pounds of cheese, and the rest of your wagon filled three-fourths high with other foods. That way you’ll have room to put some hay on top and not make it look so tempting to any thieves out there. Deal?” Mac’s massive right hand shot up into Henry’s reach. Henry pondered the trade with a few nods of his head.

  “Okay, you drive a tough bargain,” Henry replied. “I’ll take it.” He reached for Mac’s waiting grasp and shook on the deal. Expressions softened on the two faces of Mac’s henchmen; Jonah slumped next to his father knowing the tension was finally done.

  Riding in the midday cloudless sunshine, Henry and Jonah let their guards drop, a little. Alcohol was something that would bring out the worst in all people. Now, returning home, both Amish men knew that a wagon full of food, hidden under a tarp and covered with hay, was far less vulnerable.

  Hunter knew that the warmer weather each day would bring more and more transients from the cities down the highway in front of the girl’s new home. He had noticed that the past few summers more people were fleeing the large cities in search of normalcy in the country.

  At first, most of the people simply sought safety, something that diminished day by day in the cities. As lawlessness reared its ugly head, people realized quickly there was no one there to help. No police, no national guard, no regular military. In some areas, the militia established bases to bring things to a low roar, but they brought their own troubles.

  The militia initially served the same role as the national or homeland guard might. They patrolled the streets attempting to keep crime to a minimum. They established trading posts so that some food and water could be distributed. Mostly, they brought a sense of calm to the regular population who just wanted things normal again, at least as normal as these times would allow.

  Quickly, each band of militia realized there was no one else helping out the population centers of the Midwest. There was no cavalry coming to the rescue. They and they alone were the law. As hard as the militia tried not to let the situation corrupt their thinking, the opportunities were too good to resist. They held all the power. People looked to them for solutions. The adage was never more true – power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.

  After three years of militia-style law, decent people started leaving the cities in droves. Corruption of epic proportion arose. People wanted out. Many left, on foot of course. They brought along all the worldly possessions they could carry on their backs.

  Many of the first people to leave the cities came in search of food. Almost everyone knew that the food supplies in the cities were dwindling far too rapidly. Some talked of no food being available in entire communities. Some spoke of not eating for a week or more. Others brought rumors of a corrupt militia stockpiling all the food they could find – steal actually – just for their personal gain. Civilization was in free fall.

  Hunter was aware of the troubles the road in front of Sister Theresa’s house could – or more likely would – bring. Three summers ago, only decent people seemed to fill the road. People you wanted to help. By last fall, most of the people were bums, what the Amish called drifters. Everyone out here knew what the name drifter meant. Hunter preferred to think of them as scum.

  Late last summer, word had come from just south of here that a large group of drifters had ransacked a small village. As Hunter heard told, there was a group of four or five houses with young families just trying to ride out the storm. In one afternoon and evening their food stocks disappeared, and all sixteen lives in the quaint area ceased. The drifters stayed in that community for about three weeks before moving north and west. Henry had told Hunter of the shocking events, so he had no reason to doubt it at all.

  After that event, the Amish mobilized their men and reinforced their communities with weapons. And somehow, these apparently simple people were able to find a stockpile of ammo that helped fortify their positions. The Amish would not lie down or be overrun by a group of ruffians. Not now, not ever.

  Hunter knew that the drifters would be trouble eventually. The tragic events of last fall didn’t surprise him. He hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but now it was the reality. People needed to be ready for whatever the road may bring them. They needed to prepare to fight for their food, their water, their lives. What would never have been thought possible seven years ago, would be this summer’s history. Hunter knew it, Henry knew it, and everyone in the country now knew it.

  Somehow Hunter knew he had to warn Sister Theresa about the drifters they would encounter. She had to be made aware of the danger. Being the kind soul she was, she would most likely feel it was her duty to help everyone that came along. People would ask for food, she would want to give them food. People would ask for clothing, she would want to give them clothing. Even a simple request for water she would want to fulfill. But she needed to see the danger th
at lay with each request.

  Theresa had to learn to ignore people from the road, even though that would go against every moral fiber of her being. These drifters would only bring trouble. Nothing else, just trouble. If she gave one food, more would request food. Their entire stock could be wiped out in less than a week. Perhaps even in a day. She needed to be careful. She needed to be more like him, non-caring. This was going to be hard.

  After spending his morning hunting time pondering the Sister, and his past, Hunter felt almost panicked as he walked toward the farmhouse. He hadn’t yet said anything of the dangers they might face to Theresa. And he was sure she hadn’t pondered any of these thoughts. That wouldn’t be part of her makeup. She’d spent all of her adult life helping the poor, certainly not shunning them.

  And the girls. They came from such a cloistered environment at their school. They didn’t have to worry about anything aside from their studies. The headmaster, teachers, and tutors took care of everything for them, up until that moment that is. Now they were truly on their own. Hunter quickened his pace.

  And the babies, Hunter thought further. No, children are a blessing, not a burden. But given the right situation, they would become the largest anchor limiting the group’s ability to react to trouble. They were all so small, still so delicate. Their every need depended on their new mothers and Sister Theresa.

  This was worse than what Hunter had first feared. He originally thought the militia’s plan was just plain stupid. Something they hadn’t thought through far enough. Now he saw it for what it really was – a terrible, if not impossible, situation with almost no chance of success. But was there even a viable alternative plan to be had?

  Hunter pulled up his sagging pants and trotted toward the large white house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hunter entered the farmyard and found Sara out in the warm sunshine carrying a bundled Matty. Worry raced through Hunter’s brain. But what was he worrying about? Sara? Matty? This wasn’t like him. For the past five years, he had only ever thought of himself.

  Sara stopped to talk with Hunter. “Good morning, Hunter. I’m just doing a little exploring with Matty this morning. I thought he could use some fresh air.” Her baby was happy again this morning, just like her. “I think Sister Theresa has some breakfast ready for you.” She saw the gun in his hands. “No luck hunting this morning?”

  Hunter looked at the tiny teen, still troubled. “Yeah, not much moving out there. Maybe tonight will be better.” Hunter studied the happy girl and her baby. Nothing bad could ever happen to this optimistic waif, could it? “Stay close. Don’t wander away too far.” Hunter headed for the house.

  “We won’t. We’ll be here in the yard somewhere, or over by the garden.” Sara picked up her stroll where she had left off.

  Hunter unloaded his rifle and set it in the shed next to the dwelling. He wanted to keep it close but didn’t want it loaded with so many young people around. Most likely none of them knew proper firearm safety. Maybe that was something he needed to teach the group, soon. As he walked into the house, he saw Mary standing in the kitchen holding Rachel. They both seemed happier this morning than other days.

  “Hello Hunter,” Mary said quietly. “I saw you with your gun. Did you catch anything this morning?”

  Hunter almost laughed. How many times had he gone hunting, and had some youngster ask him if he caught anything? Like he was fishing or something. He shook his head as he grinned at the new young mother. “No, no luck. Not yet at least.”

  It appeared Mary was warming up water for a bottle for Rachel. These little ones were either eating or sleeping most of the time in Hunter’s mind. Well, when they weren’t screaming, that was. Hunter carefully rubbed Rachel’s tiny head and went looking for Sister Theresa.

  Theresa had just finished cleaning up for the morning. She was a believer in cleanliness being next to Godliness. She was the poster child for it actually. Hunter peeked at the woman drying her auburn hair with a hand towel. Her hair was longer and thicker than he had expected. The locks reached well past her shoulders, probably a foot or more in length.

  Seeing Hunter enter the room, Theresa smiled at him. “Good morning.” She kept working on her hair hoping the heat from the stove would help dry it faster. “I have some ideas I’d like to run past you. First off, I’d like to see if we can find a larger kettle or container we could leave on this stove.” She pointed at the wood stove in the dining room area. “If we could have some water heating all the time, we could bathe the babies pretty much as needed. I’m sure the girls would like it for their own use as well.”

  This was a fairly decent idea Hunter surmised. “I’ll see what I can find out in the sheds. There might be something there. Otherwise, I’m sure Rebecca knows where we can get one.” Hunter had more urgent matters to talk to Theresa about, but didn’t want to do it around the others. “Maybe you can help me look when you’re all ready.” That was a good plan, he felt.

  Sister nodded at him. “Sure, that’s fine.” She pulled her dense tresses through the towel again trying to squeeze out the excess water. “Ugh, sometimes I think all this hair is more of a curse than a blessing. Maybe I should just cut it short.” She laughed and looked at Hunter.

  “I don’t know, Sister. You have some real hair there. It’s kind of pretty, you know. Maybe you should leave off the habit.” Hunter had no idea what that may or may not mean. He was just making an observation.

  Theresa stopped drying and approached him. “Thank you for the compliment. But it’s actually called a headdress, and I wear it for modesty’s sake. I want people to know I’m a nun. And I don’t want to appear like I’m showing off my hair. It just wouldn’t be proper in my view.”

  “Not like it’s going to make much difference out here, Sister. You got rid of the rest of your outfit. Maybe your hair would enjoy the day outside and free once in a while. You don’t sleep in that thing do you?”

  Theresa shook her head. “Of course not. You know, I’m really just a normal woman in most senses, Hunter. I need to eat and sleep and have fun, just like everybody else. I just like to show that I’ve chosen a particular life and have people see I’m proud of my choices. That’s all.” Theresa walked toward her room to finish her preparations for the day. Hunter sat down at the table where some scrambled eggs and toast sat mostly untouched. “Help yourself to the food, Hunter. Everyone else has eaten.”

  By the time Hunter had wolfed down two plates of eggs and three pieces of toast, Sister Theresa was put together and ready to tackle another day. Emily had come and joined Hunter as he ate. Calvin was sleeping. He had slept a little better the previous night finally, and Emily didn’t look as worn out this morning. Mary somehow read Hunter’s mind and brought him a cup of coffee as she walked through with Rachel and her bottle. These young girls were finally getting the hang of things.

  “Hunter?” Emily began as she watched the man make food disappear, “Are there any other families close by here? Aside from the Muellers?”

  The question seemed innocent enough, from a very innocent girl. He thought for a moment. “Just west of the Muellers are the Von Trapens. They’re another Amish family. Younger than the Muellers. I think their oldest boy is maybe ten or so. Six in all at their place. Her parents live next door. Ezra and Katie, I can’t think of their last name right now.” Hunter thought about people over to the east within walking distance. “A ways off to the east there’s another whole community of Amish. But that’s almost an hour by foot. To the south about two miles back are the Roberts. Younger couple with two little ones. They’re not Amish. Then just north of here are the Millers, the Lapps and the Yoders. All Amish.” There were a few more down by the Amish store, but Hunter thought he had listed enough for Emily’s inquiry.

  Emily eyed him closely. “So, there are other people around, right?”

  Hunter nodded his head as he took a sip of coffee, very strong coffee. Maybe Sara was catching on.

  “Any boys our ages?”<
br />
  Hunter’s eyes narrowed. Now he saw Emily’s real question. “Sure. They’re all Amish, but I’d say within five miles you could have your pick of a dozen or so.” Emily frowned, and Hunter could only shrug at her. “Don’t worry about that for now. There’s bound to be some nice young men move into the area over the next few years. By the time you’re ready for a man, there should be plenty to choose from.”

  Sister Theresa came back into the dining room. “That’s exactly what I told her last night, when she asked me,” Theresa stated plainly. “Emily is just worried she’ll never find a man out here.” Theresa put her hand on Emily’s slumping shoulder. “All in good time, Emily, all in good time.” Theresa looked over to Hunter. “I’m all ready to go exploring, sir.” Hunter rose from the table and carried the dishes into the kitchen. The girls had their hands full enough without cleaning up after him.

  As the unlikely pair walked out into the warm spring morning, they ran into Sara coming back inside with Matty. She wore a slight frown. “I just saw a young couple walk by out on the road. They looked so sad and lost, Sister. Like they had nowhere to go, nothing to hope for. It made me feel sad.” Sara stared at the ground, lost in someone else’s misery.

  Theresa brought Sara’s gaze back up. “It’s normal to feel that way, Sara. That could be any of us.”

  Hunter felt uneasy.

  “But you must remember to keep your distance,” Theresa said. “We don’t know what any of these wanderers are looking for, or what trouble they may bring. So we have to stay on guard. Alright?”

  Sara nodded sadly at Theresa.

  Hunter felt a wave of relief rush through his body. Perhaps the Sister did understand what they were up against. Maybe she understood what lie ahead. He’d still want to talk at length with her about the subject, but for now the sense of urgency dissipated. The two took off for the barn across the yard in search of a large pail for bathwater.