by John O'Brien
Mowing the Yard
The sound of a dog barking outside startles me out of my reverie. The barking is frantic and sounds as if it is coming from the driveway in front of the house. I am not sure what time it is but it feels like I have only been awake for a short time. But then again, reveries like that will do funny things to time. I pick up my gun and scoot over to the darkened lump that I think is Robert Cupping my hand over the end of my flashlight, I turn it on. I barely make out Robert’s face lying there with the bag pulled up to his chin. I set the light between my legs as I kneel over him and gently cup my hand over his mouth. He instantly comes awake and gives his head a twist trying to shake free.
“Ssshhh,” I whisper in the dark. “It’s dad. I think there might be something outside,” I whisper as he comes awake and I remove my hand from his mouth. “Quietly wake the others and watch your light. Cup your hand over the end.”
I hear him slide out of his bag and move over to the other mounds on the floor silhouetted by the faint light escaping from his flashlight. I move over and wake Mom. A light stabs into the darkened room.
“Lights out!” I whisper sharply and the light disappears, darkening the room once again. I hear the rustling movement of sleeping bags being moved as the girls slide out of their cozy beds.
“Against the wall like we talked about,” I say softly to everyone amidst the sound of the dog barking outside.
The barking has taken on the continuous aspect of when a dog has spotted something and is doing the territorial thing; sort of that alpha dog thing. Over the frantic barking comes a shriek. Like a threatening scream. I want to head over to a window or the front door peephole to see what is going on but feel this is one of those times to become a black hole, only without any of the gravitational affect.
The frantic nature of the barking is now replaced by silence outside. One additional bark sounds out followed by more silence. Now two barks and silence. A high pitched shriek once again interrupts the silence but with a different tone. If I can put a tone on it, it seems like a surprised and pained sound. A solid, loud thumps hammers the side of the house, hard enough to be felt, followed a split second later by the sharp, short yelp that a dog emits when in pain. I hear Bri emit a soft moan of sympathy. She has always loved animals and is, well, was, wanting to become a veterinarian. The yelps are now coming in a continuous series. Five, six, seven, and then total silence once again descends upon us in the darkened room.
I look around at everyone through the dim light emitting between my fingers from the flashlight. Robert has his gun out and is on his knees pointing at the back hallway. Michelle is facing the windows set in the outside wall on the other side of the room. Mom is behind me with her pistol pointed at the floor between us and the back door. Bri and Nicole sit against the wall surrounded by us; their knees drawn up to their chest with one arm around each other. They look like bookends. It is amazing how they seem to do this without thinking. Their habits are so similar. I have a theory that many habits and motions may be DNA based. I guess it could be mimicry from them being around each other so much but I don’t think so.
We sit in silence for what seems like an hour but in all actuality is only a matter of about fifteen minutes when I hear the rattle of cans coming from the front of the house. The noise goes on and on, like someone playing Yahtzee with a tin shaker and metal dice. One set of the cans on the front porch has been knocked off, and, somewhat amusingly, may be tangled up with whatever is out there. That would be nice if the cans have in fact become a more permanent part of it. That way, we will perhaps know where one is at least; sort of like a cow with a bell around its neck. I swear I hear a muffled growl and the cans stop banging around.
“Everyone keep absolutely quiet no matter what happens outside. If something gets in, then different story, but until then, quiet,” I say as silence once more dominates the world around us.
BANG! The sound at the front door startles me and does a kick start to my heart as adrenaline starts flowing through my system. Another bang as something large slams into the front screen door. A shriek sounds amidst the sound of glass breaking and falling to the ground.
“Flashlights on but stand them with the ends on the floor,” I whisper glancing to the darkened shapes around me. “If anything gets in the front door and there are too many, we are out the side door. Robert you lead to the door and I’ll cover the rear. Once outside, we’ll switch and I’ll take the lead. Everyone else as we talked about.”
We are illuminated in momentary strobes as lights come on but the dimness returns. Quick enough that night vision is not drastically affected. More sounds of glass breaking come from the screen door followed by a grinding, metallic twisting sound. The aluminum of the screen door screams in protest as though it is being bent in ways it was not designed to.
“Don’t concentrate on the sound in front but focus on listening for sounds in your coverage area,” I whisper not taking my eyes from the kitchen entrance.
I can’t see the kitchen from this angle so the first visual sign I will have of anything will be when it enters the room some twenty feet away. This is where I keep my gun aimed. I’m on my knees holding my gun with one hand wrapped around the shaft of the flashlight on the ground next to me, ready to bring it up if necessary. More of the metallic, twisting sound echoes inside and then a loud pop. I am guessing either the screen door latch or hinge has popped off. I hear Bri sniffle and Nicole whisper to her, “It’s going to be alright Bri. I’m here.”
A loud, thundering boom comes from the front door. I don’t hear the wood give way so I think the door is still holding. I should have put something across the door, I think as another booming thud sounds. I wanted to leave two routes open to leave from in case we needed but I never thought anything would be slamming into the doors with a semi. I feel my heart beat faster as it keeps my adrenaline flow up. My gun is still pointed at the kitchen entrance. My hand is steady but my mind is shaking as I think about my kids being here. I also feel myself bracing for another impact but only the deadened sound of silence prevails. The afterimage of the thuds still ring in my mind. The silence worries me almost as much as or more than the banging.
Another shriek reverberates through the night. This one seems to come from a little distance away. If I have to hazard a guess, I would say from a neighbor’s house or a little further. Another scream erupts from the same area. It sounds more human and of someone experiencing total fear. Oh my god, I think, there’s someone still alive. Another scream shatters the night but is overshadowed by an ear-piercing shriek from just outside. Tin cans rattle once again. The last sound of the night is another shriek but far off into the night. I hear no more screams or shouts.
“Everyone wait here,” I say and edge to the kitchen entrance with my cupped light and gun. At the corner, I peek around low and let a little beam of light escape from between my fingers toward the front door to see it is still shut tight in the frame. I creep silently toward it, steeling myself in case another sudden thud comes. Damn I have to go to the bathroom, I think edging up to the door to look through the peephole. If something bangs against the door right now, I may just let loose.
Looking out of the peephole, I see only the clear, starlit night. It is amazing just how much light reaches the earth and lights it up from stars millions of light years away. Many of them probably no longer in existence but their light still comes to rest on us. Mind boggling sometimes. The end of the gravel driveway and small rock wall across from me are lit up by these far away stars. I see a corner of the screen leaning outward to the right. Nothing is moving. I pull the door slightly, testing its integrity. There is only a little give. I thank whoever it was in the night that screamed, drawing that thing away from us, and send my prayers their way asking the spirits to help them as they did us.
I walk back to the group. “Is everything okay, Dad?” Nicole asks from the shadows.
“Yeah, babe, I think so. For now at least.”
I hea
d into the bathroom to relieve my bladder brought on by my over-worked glandular system making a mental note to flush come morning. We drag our sleeping bags to where we were sitting, draw them over our legs for warmth, turn out our lights, and wait.
An hour passes before everyone settles back into their bags to try to get some sleep while I keep watch. Judging from the rustling of the bags, not much rest is actually getting done. I am exhausted from the day and night and want to drift off. Luckily, my mind is still keyed up and going a mile a minute, so I don’t quite head off into dreamland. The only indication that morning has arrived is the sound of birds greeting the dawn outside.
I walk to the back door peeling the blanket back a bit to ensure that the day has indeed come to us. The light of the coming dawn shows through the crack between the blanket and the door’s window. “Up and at ‘em,” I call out but am met only with groans and the motion of teens rolling over in their bags. Well, apparently they did drift off at some point.
“Come on everyone, get up, we have a busy day,” I call out heading outside to start the generator.
I am greeted by the morning sun ; just rising over the mountains to the east and peeking its way through the trees. The world spins around as it has in the past and will continue to do so regardless of what happens to the life inhabiting this rock flying through space. The day is beginning to warm up. The screen door hangs outward and to the side, held on only by the bottom hinge. Broken glass lies on the deck in front. I look at the jamb and find it has come marginally loose but held up amazingly well considering how hard the front door had been hit. The cans lay twisted on the deck with the strings still attached.
After heading back in to check that everyone is up, I tell them to roll up their bags before heading over to my place to gather my stuff together. Arriving at the front door, I take out my gun and throw the door open. Light reaches inside through the door turning the darkness into a lighter gray. No movement. I reach in to the right of the door and flick on the lights. It is only a large single room so I can see at once if there is anything inside. It is just as I left it the day prior. I switch into a flight suit and gather clothes, toiletries, and such putting them into my olive drab duffle bag, heading back to Mom’s house once I have finished. I also put my abalone shell, cedar, wooden matches, and my black and red paint into a red bag to take along.
“What’s that for? Cool factor?” Robert asks as I walk back in referring to my flight suit.
“Nah, lots of convenient pockets, and, if there are any military personnel left, I may be able to bluff my way through.”
“Can I wear one?”
“No. Although we may be able to pass you off, the chances are slim. Not with them both having the same name tag. Besides, I only have one flight cap.”
We grab a quick breakfast and throw our gear into the vehicles. I grab a ladder from outside and bring it in to provide an access to the attic for Mom to use as a last bastion of refuge. I also store some candles, food, water, matches, flashlight, and batteries so she will have items already there in case she has to move fast. She is still adamant about staying.
“If you have to use that, bring the ladder up after you and shut the access hatch. You may be able to get down during the day but be very careful about that as it’ll be dark inside the house at all times. You may have to stay up there for a few days. Don’t forget to bring your gun and ammo if you have any more,” I tell her standing at the foot of the ladder. “We’ll be back in a few days. You can set the cans up on the deck steps each night to give you some warning.”
The water has had a chance to heat up by this point so we all bathe. With the last of the gear loaded, and feeling a little refreshed, we head to the vehicles. Robert and Michelle will be in the Honda; Nicole, with Bri on her lap, will ride with me in the Jeep. Robert, Nicole, and Bri all give Mom a hug before I step up to give her one. “I love you Mom,” I tell her with our arms wrapped around each other. “I am so thankful for you. You be careful.”
“I love you too!” She says and I leave her embrace with tears welling up in my eyes.
“Stay right behind me,” I tell Robert as he opens the driver’s door. “If you need to stop or pull over, flash your lights or pull up beside me and let me know.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“If I pull over, pull over with me but keep a little distance. I’ll wave you closer if I need to. I’m planning on stopping at Kennedy Creek for a little bit and then the Fred Meyer in Tumwater before we head up north.”
He gives me an odd look and a nod before picking up the keys and climbing into the car. The sun hasn’t yet cleared the top of the trees as we pull out of the driveway and begin our journey. I look into the rearview mirror and see Mom waving to us from her position on the front porch. We turn out of the driveway and she disappears from sight. I feel an immense sadness fill my heart. “Be safe,” I say under my breath.
We head down the road and onto the highway. I glance over at the gas station as we pass. Everything still looks as it did yesterday; the white truck still parked as it was before. The roads are quiet. Passing by the casino once again, I notice oddly that there are significantly more cars parked there than there were at any of the stores or any other places we have been. Funny, I think shaking my head, how people would still flock there despite all that was going on. Perhaps a little indication about human nature.
Further down the road, I make the turn toward Kennedy creek. We have spent a lot of time here in the past, whether hiking up the creek, mountain biking in the hills and woods, or just climbing around. We park the vehicles and climb out.
“Are we going to your place?” Nicole asks stretching her legs.
“Yeah, babe.”
“Can I go with you?” She asks.
“Sure, hon, I would love to have you with.”
“Are you guys coming with?” I address the rest of our little group. “Or do you want to wait here?”
“How long will you be?” Robert asks.
“Not long. Under an hour.”
“I’ll stay here with Michelle,” Robert pipes up.
“No offense, Dad, but I really don’t want to walk that far,” Bri comments.
“Okay guys. Watch out for others and honk the horns if you see anything,” I say as Nicole and I begin to head up the dirt road.
We all have our own special place in these hills. For Robert and me, we have our mountain which we have dubbed Mt.Robdad. We have spent the better part of summer days riding our mountain bikes up there; prowling around the ridge lines and exploring various trails. It takes us around two hours of hard riding to get up there. We also hike the creek for miles under the hot sun. Sometimes I’ve taken Bri to the creek down a little lower on hot summer days. There are several pools there where we play in the water all day long. But Nicole, I take her to my special place in the woods.
We hike up the road, mostly in silence, enjoying each other’s company even in our present circumstance. This place has always been a place of peace and harmony for me. We turn off the road after a bit and start up through the trees. The land slopes upward into the firs and cedars blanketing the area and we climb up to where an old cedar stump sits on a hill. The stump stands taller than me and is about six feet across. The scar of an old lightning strike is sliced into it with bits of still scorched wood and bark lying about its ancient roots. This is where I gather the charcoal for my black paint. Beyond is a little clearing, between sharply rising hills, ending against a cliff. A very small creek flows through the middle originating from beneath the cliff at the far end. I found this place long ago. It is a place where the spirits live, showing themselves from time to time.
“I love coming here with you, Dad,” Nicole says as we place our phones, money, knives, guns, and anything along those lines at the base of the stump. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“I love you here with me, hon,” I say reaching my arm around her shoulder and giving her a quick hug.
I pull out my abalone s
hell, cedar, and matches. Putting the cedar in the shell and lighting it, we smudge ourselves before stepping past the stump and out into the clearing. The sun beyond the cliff wall has not reached the bottom of this small valley but casts streaks of light as it glows through the trees growing at the top of the cliff. Walking across the spongy ground, I lean down to the small creek splashing my face and hands. We climb and take a seat on the ground a little ways up the hill. This is a place where I come to settle my mind and contemplate. Nicole comes with me when I do. I sit and let the place fill me. Squirrels run up and down the trees chasing each other and who knows what else as Nic sits there by my side, taking in the place herself. Sometimes clear answers will come to me here and sometimes it is just a spiritual filling up.
As the sun’s rays touch the small valley floor, I reach over and pat Nic’s knee a couple of times, “Ready, hon?”
“Yeah, Dad,” she says looking up at me with a smile.
We walk out of the valley, gather up our stuff, and head back to our vehicles. On our stroll back, I think about this whole area and how we have all enjoyed exploring here, wondering if we will still be able to in the future or whether all of this and our time here will just be memories.
Back at the vehicles, we take our places once again and drive away, leaving the trees to go their way and perhaps reflect on our passage. Hitting the highway, we turn right to continue our journey to the beach. If all of this had to go down, why couldn’t it have happened in another month? Then, Lynn would have already been home. Everything for a reason I guess, I think glancing into the rearview to see Robert driving along behind.
Reaching the Interstate, I turn southbound heading toward the next exit which will take us to Fred Meyer. The flight computer and watch will come in handy. While that is a mostly true statement, I also know it is a little bit of a rationale. Part of it is that it is a nice watch, I want it, and it is just sitting there.
The lanes of the Interstate stretch out ahead and behind. There are a couple of on the shoulders of the road but for the most part, it is as empty as any other road we have seen. A semi is pulled off just prior to the exit with triangle hazard reflector sitting along the road behind it. Passing by it, I take the exit ramp. I had expected the exit ramps this close to town to be partially blocked or at least have a few more cars on them but it is completely clear. Coming to the intersection at the top of the ramp, I notice the traffic lights are dark. Either the emergency power that was operating yesterday has now failed or just in this part of town. Proceeding across the street, with Robert behind, we pull into the parking lot.
