The Days After (The Tenth Year)

by J. Richardson

  As she stood back up, she glimpsed a face at the window, for just a moment. She reached for her pistol, took two big steps and flattened herself against the front of the angel statue. “Ps-sst, psst!” from her position she tried to get the attention of the men. Clayton looked her way, she nodded towards the windows, somebody she whispered.

  For a moment Clayton was stunned by the vision of Chris with angel wings spreading out from her. He motioned to Wayne, they dropped down, hands on their weapons, moved to the windows on their end. Wayne eased up and tried to peer inside, very little light from the windows and nothing visible beyond that dim pool. Then his eyes caught a faint shadow that swam by in the edge of the light and was gone. Clayton pulled out his flashlight and tried to shine it around through the window. They saw no one inside.

  “Come here,” motioned Wayne to his daughter. The three stood, their breath made smoky swirls in the cold. “Honey, we don't see anyone. If there is somebody in there, they have moved off to who knows where. We sure aren't going to go chasing some shadow around this place.” He looked up at the towering building and Chris's eyes traveled up to the black windows of the hospital again.

  “You just stand here and keep a watch and we're going to free this bell, get it to the wagon and move out of here. Okay?” said Clayton.

  “Sure,” she said. She stood at the window with the flashlight and her gun. She spotted no other figures or movement. While the men got the bell loose, she thought about the bird seed scattered on the ground and wondered who put it there.

  They managed to get the bell to the wagon. For some reason, perhaps just respect, they pulled the big wrought iron gate closed behind them. Chris climbed up on the wagon seat beside Clayton and Wayne leaned against the seat behind them, the bell rested in the back of the wagon bed. The day had not warmed at all and gray prevailed. They rattled along, the horse hooves echoed on the broken streets.

  The young man said, “That was a bit of a spooky experience, huh?” he laughed.

  Chris said in a quiet voice, “It was a woman.”

  He looked around, assumed she meant she saw a woman on the street. But, from behind them, Wayne said, “A woman?...you mean a woman in the nunnery?”

  “Yes,” she turned to her father.

  “Did you get that good a look at her?” questioned Clayton.

  “Not really. I don't know, just something made me think it was the face of a woman,” she said.

  Wayne said, “Oh lord, do you think that one of the nuns is still alive, living there?”

  “Well, right before I saw the face in the window, I stopped to check out something on the ground...bird seed scattered across the snow,” said Chris.

  Clayton said, “Or that is all they have to eat. Of course, that really doesn't make sense, because they could leave there, maybe find food. Even the militia man said they try to feed anyone that needs it.”

  Wayne turned and pulled his coat up over his chin, seems a little mysterious to me, he thought. They didn't talk much the rest of the way home, a feeling of uneasiness floated on the cold air.

  ***

  Clayton and Wayne got the bell from the nunnery mounted on the side of a telephone pole near the houses. At the farm, Louis and Clay removed the old horn from the Annie Belle and got it secured on the top of the barn. They planned to use the air compressor that ran off their generator to allow it to blast out an alert. The man James, that Wayne encountered coming out of the church in town, agreed to be responsible for being sure the church bell was accessible. Even though, the church was still used, they did not ring the bell these days. At a meeting with the militia, they established a simple code for warning signals.

  Three rings of either bell, a pause and a repeat or the same number of blasts of the horn from the farm, would mean that the tax army had been spotted. A single retort along the triple alarm chain would mean the message was received. For other calls for assistance, or need to gather, two short rings or blasts would be sent.

  The militia had a limited number of members but they traveled the borders of the city, everyday. The men who did venture out for scavenging trips always kept their ears and eyes open for news of the marauders or any other roaming raiders. The militia leader said, “What we really need is a high point lookout. It's going to be the only way we have any advance warning of approaching trouble.”

  One of the other men suggested, “There is the old water tower.”

  “That's an option,” said Wayne. “You know, I think the highest point in town is the top of the old hospital. Stairways are on the inside to access the roof and the surrounding country side is visible”

  Clayton said, “If we kept a watch in pairs, gunshots would signal an alert and a second person could leave to spread the news.”

  “The warehouse would be the gathering place. Once a lookout provided a guess of the number of raiders and distance, our defenses could be readied,” said the militia leader.

  They all agreed on these plans. It was further planned to enlist and train any willing citizens in the militia. The word was spread, any extra weapons that could be spared should be brought to the warehouse. The guns and ammunition stored in the underground bunker would be increased.

  “There is something else on the old paddle wheeler,” said Clayton. “A telescopic viewer that is mounted on the top level, I'll get that from my uncle Clay. Wayne and I will find the easiest access to the hospital roof, set up the telescope and a lookout point there.”

  Wayne said, “I think we need four pairs of lookouts a day. You said there are about twenty in your group already. Between the farm residents and the neighborhood, I think that we could add about fifteen. A sign up log here at the headquarters would schedule volunteers. With enough people, any one pair would only have to stand watch every three to four days to keep the lookout constantly manned.”

  The militia leader said, “Well, sounds like we have some pretty good plans to pull together and implement. With some luck, we'll be better prepared before the marauders show up. I'll be happy if we never hand over one more payment because we have no choice.”

  ***

  A week later, Brent and Allie propped open the front entrance doors of the old theater. They talked the power police into allowing the lights for an afternoon, enabling them to do some cleaning out. If they got the theater all cleaned out and learned how to use the projector, they would have permission to open the movie house on one afternoon a month and show two movies. In the utility room, they found brooms and cleaning supplies and best of all, rat poison. Allie insisted that one way or the other, the rodents had to go.

  The two rescued girls were very reluctant to leave the farm and come back into town. Allie had persuaded them to come along and help out at the movie house. Her parents, Angel and Clay joined them. On the plaza, traders set up their wares, this made the two girls nervous. The parents reassured them and promised they would be close by the theater. They all took the brooms and began to clean out the aisles between the rows of seats. Allie kept her pistol at quick access, she wanted no close encounters with man or beast.

  Brent said, “I'm going up to the projection room. While the power is on, I want to see if I can get an idea of how the projector works, check out the wires on it and make sure they are not rat eaten.” He grinned at Allie, who pushed the broom down the aisle; she stuck her tongue out at him. With the small room lit up, he became fascinated by the names on the cans of film. Most of the tins had some sort of date and went all the way back to the 1960's. When they first came to the theater, he took one of the books from the shelves home and studied it, knew that the film might have deteriorated. Since the films hid away in the dark all these years, he hoped some of them still remained undamaged. As anxious as he was to try to run a movie, for today he needed to check out the wires and get the projection booth in order.

  While the kids worked away in the theater, Angel and Clay roamed around the plaza. Before they came to the old square, they and the two young people went out
to the militia headquarters and signed up for watches at the hospital lookout. When Angel tried to suggest that perhaps her daughter shouldn't sign up right away, Allie insisted, “No way! I am perfectly capable of standing a watch.” It was agreed, she would pair with her father, Clay. The two young girls were not trained enough to participate, however enough citizens had signed up to have four shifts a day for three days, before a pair would be up again. Everyone was responsible for keeping up with their own time to be on duty and agreed to arrive about thirty minutes before the previous shift ended.

  Clay had brought the telescopic viewer to Clayton that morning, so that he and Wayne could mount it at the lookout. They made sure the stairwells, up five floors to the roof of the hospital were all clear and safe. On about the third floor, they found human remains on the stairs. A long time had passed, nothing but bones and rotted clothing left of the victim of unfortunate circumstances. They opened a door into a dark and desolate hallway. Wayne went into a room, pulled a sheet from a bed, “Let's use this to collect the bones,” he said, “And then we'll carry the bundle back inside the door, get the stairway cleared.”

  On the roof of the hospital, the two men viewed a wide panorama, 360 degrees around the town. Even though some of the surrounding area was thickly forested, good visibility made the lookout an asset. Advanced warning of the approaching raiders was possible. They worked together, a good part of the day; installed a post and a sturdy mount that allowed the viewer to rotate and stay stable. Clayton greatly respected his own father and thought he was the best man he knew, however, he had grown to have a lot of admiration for the man, now his near neighbor. He and Wayne shared one thing in common, love for a particular young blonde woman. Although, the younger man did not really even know that fact, yet.

  The watches began, due to a shared belief in the imminent arrival of the tax collecting marauders. The day before, the warning system was tested. The horn at Dan's farm functioned and it's loud blare was heard at the neighborhood houses of Wayne and Clayton. The bell from the neighborhood was heard at the church in town. The warning signals were repeated in reverse. They realized that on this day they all listened closely and waited for the alerts; though the clangs and blares could have been clearer, it was far better than no warning system at all. As they all tried to unite and fortify their defenses, they hoped the cold winter weather temporarily held up the raiders, somewhere.

  At the plaza, a man all bundled up in layers of dirty clothes laid a baseball bat, a couple of knives and some ammunition on an old blanket on the snow covered ground. A small donkey was staked out nearby. A miserably cold time for the market, but folks had to be here to trade out of necessity. He spotted Clay and Angel as they walked by, “Hey, hey-y, I got what'cha need...look!”

  They walked over to the man's spot and looked down at the few items on the ground. Clay saw some 9MM bullets. He had used his pistol for many years and still liked it. He squatted down, picked up some of the loose bullets, “Where did you get these, bud?”

  The man gave a snaggle toothed grin and looked around nervously like someone watched him, “Up north. I's comin over from Minnesota. Damn, it wuz cold as a witches titty up there! Anyways, up at Watertown...” he lowered his voice, “them army guys wuz there, kinda dug in it 'peared. I got me a thing or two off of 'em,” he laughed a gravely sound.

  Angel listened closely, “You mean the tax collector army? Where did you say, how far is that?”

  The man said, “Watertown, it's a hun-erd miles maybe, further up north of here. They ain't movin right now, for sure they will be when it starts gettin' warmer.”

  Clay exchanged a look with Angel. It was doubtful this old coot could be 100 percent trusted but this was useful information. They might have a little time. If the trader was right, the army would possibly move down from the north, as the weather got warmer. They could pass the intel along to the militia and give them some focus for preparing. She turned her back to her partner and he dug around in her back pack, pulled out a tall jar of canned vegetables and two hen eggs. “I'll take the bullets,” he said and offered the food.

  The man grabbed the food, “Deal.”

  ***

  At the clinic, a slim figure walked down the long hall and turned into the employee's lounge room. Dana only had a very slight limp from her injury. A pair of interested eyes watched her from the opposite end of the narrow way and the young doctor entered a room where an elderly man waited for him. Jacob sat at a table in the lounge, his books open in front of him. The hospital was allowed more power use and he liked the light to study in. An added attraction was the two or three young women who volunteered at the clinic on various days. Chris prepared some tools for sterilizing, stood at the sink.

  “Hi Jacob, what's with you today?” Dana paused and kissed him on the cheek. The young man could sometimes be quite serious, though he was actually an outgoing person. A bit taller than his dad, Louis, but still stocky built. With smooth cocoa colored skin and a small mustache, a good looking man, especially when he smiled.

  “Not much, just doing some research about the water system. Seems to me that we could do better about purifying our water,” he answered.

  Chris dried her hands off and said, “Hey, there is a big pot of beans and rice on the stove. Anyone want some?” The stove was wood burning, it warmed the food and the room. Another large pan held water that Chris boiled to sanitize the tools. The medical tools dropped into the pan of steaming water, she moved the big pan over and put a lid on. She filled some bowls with thick liquid and the three sat at the table.

  “Hey Jacob, did I tell you about the day we went to get the bell at the nunnery?” said Chris.

  He took a big spoon of the hot mixture and said “No, you obviously got the bell.”

  Dana already knew the story, she said, “Yeah, but something was a little spooky that day. Tell him, Chris.”

  She told him about the face that she was sure she saw in the window and the bird seed scattered on the ground.

  Jacob laughed, “Maybe it was just your own reflection.” He was generally a logical and practical person.

  “No, no...I am sure it was a woman's face on the inside and the bird seed was fresh. It would have already been eaten or the snow would have covered it,” she said with certainty.

  “Well, some things are not easy to explain, you know,” said Jacob. He told the two young women the story of strange happenings, years before when his family had joined in the journey up river on the paddle wheeler. “I probably wouldn't even remember the tale, except I heard it discussed off and on over the years between my parents and Clay and Angel. They always argue back and forth about whether there are logical explanations or not.” He enthusiastically told about how Allie heard what seemed to be a child crying on the shore; about the family camped on the land that appeared to be from a time over a century earlier. He recounted the tales of ghostly sightings in the river town that their boat had drifted by. A family very similar to the quaint group they had encountered beside the river was hung in Civil War times, on a bridge in the county. The legends said the bridge and town were haunted.

  “It was more than a little creepy. When my mother and Angel tried to spot the campsite as we moved away, it was just gone...vanished.” He made a fluttering motion with his hand and grinned.

  The two women listened, totally fascinated. Dana said, “Of course, there could easily be someone in the old nunnery. There are obviously people all over this town, that we don't know about.” She reached down and rubbed her injured leg lightly. “People could lurk, be hidden anywhere.”

  Chris said, “I guess that's true. It was just a brief sight, but there was something intriguing about the face.”

  They just finished the late lunch when Brent and Allie, arm in arm, burst in, talked excitedly about the movie house. Allie told how they had cleaned it out, put out some of the rat poison, “We are going to get rid of those nasty old rats,” she said. The two young adopted girls tagged along. An
gel rubbed her hands together and removed her gloves, she sniffed at the pot on the stove.

  “Enough for us, Dana?” she said.

  “Sure, there's plenty,” she answered, “I am going to tell the doctor to come for a bite when he gets a break.” She moved away down the hall.

  Angel started to fill up some bowls. Clay spoke to Jacob, “Are you going to the headquarters today?”

  Jacob said, “I'll probably go out there tomorrow morning. I have lookout watch this evening with Brent.”

  “Well, I have some information that we picked up from an old transient guy on the plaza. It needs to be passed along to the militia leader,” said Clay.

  After Clay recounted the intel, Jacob said, “You think it is very reliable?”

  Clay said, “Can't be sure of it, but it makes some sense. Perhaps, we have as much as two or three months to build up our defenses. It's believable that the marauders might stay put until the weather begins to warm.”

  “I will pass the intel along tomorrow,” said Jacob. “I certainly hope we have some time to get our defenses stronger. I read a quote in one of those old books of yours; it said never underestimate your enemy or overestimate your friends.”

  “That's true and this is a very unpredictable enemy. I disagree on the second part, though. These years in this changed world have taught me that there is no greater strength than in the unity of purpose with friends,” said Clay.