I dressed in dark brown pants and a brown turtle neck shirt. Amanda insisted on a black sweater she found in my closet.
“It’s cool outside, plus it has pockets, Mom, for your hanky and sunglasses,” she turned away, stifling a sob.
There was no sun out, though I know they were meant to hide my red and swollen eyes.
~~~
I went outside, escorted by my sons. I was surprised to see so many in attendance. There was Father Constantine and the Sisters, Tom, Jim, James, Art and Claire Collins, Nathan and Chloe with Lenny and Pete, Marsha and her husband, Ken and Karen, Joshua, Rayn, Amanda, Emilee and Jacob… and Chivas.
At three-fifteen, we all stood around this ugly gaping hole in the ground, and Eric, Jason, Ken, and Joshua brought Mark’s body out.
I know the Father was talking, saying nice things about Mark, but I only heard half of what he said, my brain was in shutdown. Then there was a prayer and the four of them lowered Mark’s body gently into the grave, and I tossed the first shovel of dirt in, and promptly collapsed.
~~~
I woke staring at the ceiling, and the concerned faces of my two sons and Dr. James. who was waving some old fashioned smelling salts under my nose.
“Okay, okay, stop! That stuff stinks.” I wrinkled my nose and sat up.
“Are you alright, Mom?” Jason asked as Eric looked on.
“I think she’ll be fine now,” Dr. James answered for me. “I’m going to take a wild guess that you haven’t had anything to eat today, right?”
I sighed. “And not much yesterday.”
“Then we’re getting you across the street,” Eric said, helping me up. “There’s a wake going on, and lots of food. You have to eat, Mom.”
“A wake?”
“Yes, a celebration of life. Mark was a good man and we all want to remember him that way. You knew him best and you need to be there,” Jason pleaded. “Amanda felt it was better to have the wake at our house instead of here, that it would be easier on you.”
“I don’t know… I don’t think I’m up to it.” I frowned, while memories washed over me.
“Your friends and family are there, waiting for you, Allexa. Mark would want you to do this for him,” Dr. James said.
~~~
On the front porch of the house that was once my brother’s, I paused in the growing darkness to listen to the chatter and laughter from within. I knew that once I entered, all that would change.
“Allexa! Are you better now? I was really worried when you fainted,” a concerned Sister Agnes said.
“Yes, Sister, I forgot to eat today, so it must have been low blood sugar.”
“No need to make excuses to us, dear, you’ve been through an incredible shock,” she replied, leading me to the food table.
The array of food was impressive. There was a platter of thinly sliced meat that could only be venison, and another I knew to be smoked goose. A sob caught in my throat knowing that was a favorite of Mark’s. I let my eyes wander over the rest of the table and found potato salad, macaroni salad, a dish of mostaccioli pasta in tomato sauce, deviled eggs, smoked fish, bread, and cookies.
Tom White was at my side, shoving a plate in my hands. “Eat, Allex, please,” he pleaded. The pain in his eyes was all it took for me to start crying again.
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, took a deep breath, and put on a brave face. I took the plate from him and took a spoonful of everything, except the goose.
“Are you going to try one of my Angel Wings?” Sister Lynn asked. I searched the table for what I knew as Chruscik, a Polish pastry.
“Did you make these?” I asked impressed, taking one.
“Oh, yes, one of the few things I make well is sweets,” she grinned. I took a bite and the powdered sugar coating clung to my lips.
“It’s heavenly,” I said with a smile and she laughed.
Tom led me over to the colonel, who stood as I approached. He took my plate, handed it to Tom, and then hugged me gently. He gazed down at me briefly, then lowered me on to the couch and put the plate back in my hands.
I nibbled at the food, and drank from the glass of rum the colonel gave me.
“I hope you don’t mind that we raided the liquor truck. It feels like a good use of it,” he said.
“When Mark first opened it and saw what was inside he called it the Christmas truck,” I said with a smile. The smile felt good; maybe I would get through this after all.
I set my plate on the sink with the other dirty dishes. When I turned, Art Collins was standing behind me, leaning on his crutches.
“I’m so sorry, Allexa,” his voice quivered.
“Thank you, Art, and thank you for coming today.” What else could I say?
“Any time you need to get away, please feel free to come and visit. In fact, with this strange warm weather we’ve been having the fish are still biting. Why don’t you come out and wet a line with us?”
“That’s very tempting. I haven’t been fishing in a long time. Let me get back to you, okay?” I replied. Maybe I do need to get away.
That’s when the tremors started and a moment later the lights went out.
“Got it!” I heard Jason’s voice in the dark, and a flashlight came on. “If everyone will stand still for a minute, I’ll get some light in here.”
Another flashlight came on, this one in Eric’s hands. Both made their way to the hutch where the oil lamps stood like sentinels across the top. Fortunately Nancy had insisted on a decorative but functional rail around the edge, so the lamps were intact. One by one, Eric and Jason lit the lamps and pushed the darkness back.
Another, stronger quake hit, lasting perhaps a minute.
“Let’s hope that’s the last one,” Tom White said.
“Why would the lights go out?” Sister Margaret asked. Her soft voice drifted across the room since everyone had gone quiet.
“The lines must have come down. They’ve been vulnerable since this started, and the power may be gone for good now,” I replied to her. “Rayn, you have the most experience with earthquakes, how strong would you say those were?”
“That depends on how far away they were,” she answered. “If it was twenty miles away, I’d say a 6.0 or 7.0 on the Richter Scale. If it was fifty miles it would be stronger… a lot stronger for us to have felt it that much.”
I took the flashlight with me and Eric walked me back home. I immediately smelled kerosene when I opened the door and found one of my oil lamps smashed on the floor.
“I need to clean this up right away. Not only is there glass all over the floor, the smell turns my stomach,” I said. “Will you light the two hanging lanterns while I get the broom and some rags?” While Eric did that, I piled some rags on the oil to keep it from spreading. This would have to be cleaned and mopped before lighting the cook stove.
I hated losing one of my lamps, though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I scooped it all into the dustpan. When I was going to dump it into the trash, I stopped and removed the metal cap that held the wick. The glass might be shattered, though the metal and the wick could still be used. No matter how I felt, no matter how deep my sorrow, nothing could be wasted anymore.
CHAPTER 42
December 6
“Excuse me, Miss Allexa, may I come in?” Joshua stood at the entrance to the greenhouse where I was tending the plants. I found working with growing things that were green and thriving helped ease my sorrow.
“Of course, Joshua, it’s good to see you. What’s on your mind?” I stood, brushing the dirt from my hands.
“Without grid power, there are a lot of things we can’t do like we used to, and I’ve been careful about using the generator,” he said.
“That’s wise. Do you need more gas?”
“Not yet, but thank you, ma’am.” He looked down at his feet. Even after all this time, Joshua was still shy around me. “When Emilee and Jacob come over, I make sure we do all the power stuff at the same time. Jacob watches cartoons
or a movie, Emilee talks on the Ham and I do laundry, wash dishes, and water the animals.”
“That’s a good use of the generator time.” It was also a reminder to me I needed to do laundry, too.
“Emilee has some radio friends down in Owosso, near Lansing, that said they’ve been trying to reach her for days, wondering if she was okay. I guess I should have let her on the radio sooner,” he said.
“Why is that, Joshua?” I said, wishing he would get to the point.
“The quake we felt the other night? It’s all over the news down there.” Joshua’s eyes lit up. “It was right here, and it was really bad. I think you should come over and talk to these folks.”
~~~
“My grandmother just came in, Felicia. Can you get your dad? Thanks,” I heard Emilee speak into the radio mike. She stood so I could sit down.
“This is Allexa Smeth in Moose Creek. Who am I speaking with, please?” I said into the mike.
“My name is Glen Grant, Ms. Smeth. I work at the capital in the Department of Natural Resources. May I ask what your position is, other than Emi’s grandma,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m the township Emergency Manager, Mr. Grant, what there is left of the town. I understand you have some important news for us?” I was trying hard to be patient, something I wasn’t good at lately.
“Yes, Emi said you felt the earthquakes that hit three days ago, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I responded, trying hard not to remember where we all were at the time. “Though all of our power is gone now, as well as any satellite feeds, so we’re completely cut off from information. What can you tell me about the quake?”
“I do hope you’re sitting down, ma’am,” he said, making me nervous. “The first quake that hit in the late afternoon on December third registered a 7.5 and was centered in Au Train on the northern shore of the Upper Peninsula. Are you familiar with the area?”
“I know it well. It’s rather rural there, was there any damage?”
“Because it’s so sparsely populated the casualties were minimal. However, the quake that followed was a 10.9.” He paused, I’m sure for that to sink in.
“Is that even possible? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one rated that high.”
“Oh, it’s possible alright. In fact it’s possible it was even higher. Since earthquakes don’t happen in Michigan there wasn’t any seismic equipment in place, so we don’t know.”
“What was the damage, Mr. Grant?” I asked quietly.
“The 10.9 quake ran along the Whitefish River from Au Train to Gladstone and divided the U.P. into two sections.”
“What?!”
“There is a chasm that appears to be almost a half mile wide. Gladstone was completely destroyed from what the aerial shots show, and Escanaba is mostly flooded.” Another lengthy pause made me wonder if we’d lost our connection. “Lake Superior is draining into Lake Michigan, Ms. Smeth, and flooding areas in the upper half of Lower Michigan. The Mackinaw Bridge is gone, so is Mackinaw city, Traverse City too. In fact, everything from Cheboygan to Manistee is being evacuated.”
I was stunned into silence. Everyone who lived on the Lake Superior shoreline had moved into town. I doubt if anyone had even noticed if the water level was going down.
“Are you still there, ma’am?” Grant asked.
“Yes, I’m here, just speechless. No one in our surviving community lives on the shore, so there have been no reports of the lake levels changing.”
“Well, that’s not all that has happened,” he went on. “The quake also destroyed the Soo Locks. We don’t have much information on that area yet though.”
“Will you relay that to me when it comes in?” I requested.
“Certainly. I have a question for you,” he said. “From our aerial photos we’re reading extreme hot spots in the vicinity of Marquette. Can you shed any light on that?”
“In a nutshell, sir, Marquette is burning and will be for a long time. Massive lightning strikes set nearly everything on fire, including the coal yards for the power plant. Marquette was evacuated at the end of October. Three groups were formed and went to Sault Ste. Marie, Escanaba, and here.”
“I’m thinking your group was the fortunate one,” he commented ominously. He didn’t know the horrors and the misery we were hiding.
“I need to get this information to our mayor. Thank you so much, Mr. Grant, and please let us know anything further. I’m allocating supplies that will keep this ham radio on the air from noon until six in the evening every day, unless and until you give us a more convenient time slot,” and I signed off.
~~~
Tom, Colonel Andrews, and I stood on the narrow boardwalk that had been constructed years ago for tourists to enjoy the panoramic view from Lookout Point.
“You relayed to us all that Glen Grant told you, though it still didn’t sink in. Not until now,” Tom said, gazing out over the receding muddy shore of Lake Superior. Lake Meade shimmered in the foreground, held in place by a small dam.
“What do you think is the distance, a quarter of a mile?” I asked, referring to the new line where water began just past the mouth of the bay.
“Closer to a half mile, is my guess,” Jim said. “Wish we had a range finder.”
“It’s devastating. I also find it fascinating. Look over at the bay. See that pond? That was a popular hole for Lake Perch. I wonder if any are trapped there,” I thought out loud, remembering Art’s offer to go fishing at Mathers Lake. “The bay is a port of refuge; maximum depth is less than fifty feet, mostly where that hole is.”
“The bottom looks pretty rocky,” Tom observed. “We might be able to make our way there without sinking. Say, Jim, think any of the new residents could build a dock out that far?”
“Might depend on how hungry they get for Lake Perch,” he chuckled.
“The lake bottom for the most part is sandy and should drain quickly, at least here it is. Further out where the new shore is, I have no idea,” I said. “I wonder how much more it will go down. At some point it will have to level out.”
“Any idea how deep the lake is?” Jim asked.
“It has an average depth of four hundred eighty-three feet,” Tom answered. “And one spot near Munising is over thirteen hundred feet deep.”
“The surface is nearly thirty-two thousand square miles, Jim. For it to have a new shore a half-mile out is one hell of a lot of water to lose. No wonder Lower Michigan is flooding!” I commented. “Think of all the shipwrecks that might now be exposed!”
Tom looked from me to Jim and back to me and started to laugh.
“This is one of the strangest conversations I’ve had in a very long time! We have been faced with multiple disasters of apocalyptic proportions and we’re discussing finding old shipwrecks and building long docks to go fishing. Come on you two, let’s go have a drink. I’m buying.”
~~~
We sat at the bar in the lower level of the house that was once my best friend Kathy’s and was now occupied by my two new best friends.
I picked up my glass of rum that was filled with ice cubes.
“I sure miss club soda,” I lamented.
The two men were so quiet I looked up.
“Allexa, about Mark…” Jim said quietly.
I held up my hand. “No, don’t. It’s still too raw,” I choked out. “This is the first day I have felt somewhat normal, please, let’s just talk shop, you know, natural disasters and strategic planning, okay?” My laugh came out a half sob.
“Okay. So what are we going to do?” Jim asked.
“It’s approaching winter, even though the weather says otherwise. There is little else to do until spring, except survive,” Tom answered him.
“I forgot to mention, Tom, I’ve allocated Joshua more gas for his generator to have the ham radio on for six hours a day until we get a regular communication time,” I slipped in.
“Sure, whatever, just keep me posted. Say, Jim, did y
ou see the new prototypes of the heating stove Earl is working on?”
I leaned back and smiled behind my glass of ice and amber rum. Things might return to a kind of normal. Without Mark, though, nothing will be normal for me ever again.
CHAPTER 43
December 16
“Are you sure you want to do that, Mom?” Eric asked. They had been checking on me daily, often twice a day.
“It’s only for two days, just overnight,” I replied. “Art made the offer for Christmas, but I would rather be here with you two for that. I really need the diversion, boys, I’m feeling a bit … stressed, ya know? The weather is mild enough that I don’t need to worry about heat. I just need someone to come over and feed Tufts. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Since you’re going anyway, and since you brought up Christmas, would you invite Art and Claire for us? We’d like to have a party in the late afternoon on Christmas, no gifts, just dinner. We all think it would be a good idea to do something fun,” Jason said.
~~~
“I’m so glad you decided to take me up on my offer, Allexa,” Art said, balancing on his crutches.
“I see the cast is gone now, Art. How is your leg feeling?” I asked, stepping into the warm house.
“Dr. James removed it yesterday and said I could start exercising it a few minutes every day. Even though it’s only been two months, it feels much longer,” he replied, following me in. “I still need the crutches if I’m walking any distance, so I don’t stress the bones.”
“What a lovely Christmas tree!” I said entering the large living room. “It’s so festive.”
The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) Page 28
