The next day broke dull and dreary but still mild. After breakfast, Jonah took Will and Joanna back to the pond for more fishing, dropping them off there. Then he came back to assist in digging the new pit for the outhouse. It was backbreaking labor. Ray and Pam helped us as we took turns in shifts, two digging, two resting, and so on until lunch. Meanwhile, Sharron and Claire went on a scavenging mission to look for herbs, roots, nuts or anything that might be edible in the fields nearby. Emily continued her sewing. Dad played with the kids out in the barn as best he could with his hurt arm and cough.
Wilma spent her morning working inside the house. She was very quiet. From where we worked in the back, I could see her come outside every now and then. She’d stop just outside the back door, look up at the sky, sometimes gesturing toward it, and then go back in again.
I figured she was trying to decide if it was going to rain or not.
As lunch time approached, we’d dug our “poop pit” as we’d termed it down to a depth of nearly five feet.
“Just about another foot and we’ll have it,” Jonah nodded. “Would have taken me a week trying to do this on my own,” he smiled at us.
“Glad to be of assistance,” Pam said.
Suddenly an explosion echoed out across the farm. “Jesus Christ!” I said, flinching. “What in the hell was that?”
We all looked over to the farmhouse to see Wilma standing by the back door, a still-smoking shotgun cradled in her arms.
“LUNCH TIME!” she yelled and then disappeared back inside.
We looked over at Jonah whose eyes were firmly fixed on the ground. “Guess I’d better get to the pond and pick up your friends,” he said softly. “You all go ahead on in for lunch.”
I looked over at Ray and Pam. They were staring back at me. I think we were all thinking the same thing. Uh, no thanks, Jonah. But our bellies disagreed with us, and we cautiously made our way back up to the farmhouse where we washed up out back and then went inside to find Wilma happily setting food upon the dining room table.
We waited for everyone to get inside and for Jonah, Will and Joanna to get back from the pond before we started eating. I took a basket of food down to Dad and Paul who were waiting for their lunch after completing their barn chores. Neither of them seemed to be getting any better. Both still had their thick coughs. Paul’s was about the same as it had been, but Dad’s was almost a constant presence now. And he didn’t look good. He’d lost a lot of weight and was very pale. I was worried about him, adding his health to the growing lists of concerns I was having about our situation at the farm.
When I got back to the house, I found everyone gathered in the dining room. Will and Joanna had caught two more fish, which boded well for dinner. They said they’d like to give it another shot after lunch, and Jonah agreed to drive them back to the pond.
Wilma sat contentedly at the table, having finished bringing out all the food. She had Jason nestled snugly in her lap and was spoon-feeding him canned peaches and cooing in his ear.
I sat down at the table. It was fairly quiet. Every so often I’d hear Wilma coaxing Jason with another peach. “There’s my little animal,” or “That’s a good animal,” she’d say.
I didn’t really care for my son being likened to an animal, but I reminded myself that we were on a farm and that it might just be Wilma’s way of coming up with a pet name of sorts for him. At least that’s what I told myself.
Claire looked at me and smiled, but it wasn’t a normal Claire smile, it was forced, and I knew from the look in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing.
After lunch, we all went back to our respective duties. We managed to get the new pit for the outhouse completed, the outhouse positioned over top of it, and the old hole filled with dirt. We were hot, sweaty, exhausted, and dirty by the end of the day. So Claire, Pam, Ray, and I asked to borrow Jonah’s truck and head over to the pond to clean up and pick up Joanna and Will.
“I’ll go see if Jason wants to come along,” Claire said as we prepared to leave.
I watched as she walked to the farmhouse and disappeared inside. She was back a minute later. Jason wasn’t with her.
“He didn’t want to go?” I asked.
“He’s inside playing cards with Shane, Sarah, and Wilma. Wilma said she’d be happy to watch them for us until we get back.”
“Think they’ll be okay?” I asked her softly.
“I think they’ll be alright,” she nodded. “Plus, Emily and Sharron are there with them, and we won’t be gone long.”
We made it over to the pond in just a few minutes. Joanna and Will were sitting contentedly on the bank, their poles stuck into the earth beside them, lines dangling into the water. The cloud-covered sun was hanging low in the sky shedding a golden hue across the landscape. It was a picturesque scene.
“Have any luck?” I called to the two fishermen as we piled from the pickup.
“Not much,” Will called back. “Couple nibbles, that’s all.” He took a look at us in our dirt-covered clothes. “You guys are a mess.”
“Too much digging,” Claire replied. “Mind if we use your pond for washing up?”
Will and Joanna shook their heads, no. “I think the fish have gotten wise to us. Either that or we’ve caught them all,” Joanna said.
We all took off our shoes and socks and tromped into the pond, standing ankle deep at its edge. The water was bitingly cold, and we quickly washed our hands, arms and faces. There was no way we were going any further. The water was just too chilly.
“I have an idea,” I said, shivering in the water’s icy grasp. “I saw a large metal watering trough that wasn’t being used back in the barn. We could haul it over in the truck, use buckets to fill it with pond water and then heat it for baths tonight.”
“Oh, a bath,” Claire moaned. “Sounds heavenly.”
“I’m in,” Joanna agreed eagerly.
“Me too,” said Pam.
Upon getting home, Jonah met us at the door. “Catch anything?” he asked hopefully.
“Nope,” Will shook his head. “Sorry.”
Jonah shrugged, “Maybe I’ll give it a shot tomorrow. I could use a break after today,” he stretched and then massaged his lower back with a hand. “I already took dinner down to the boys in the barn, so you can relax and have a seat at the table,” he said.
“Thanks, Jonah,” I said, appreciating the help. “But I don’t want you or Wilma risking your health. I don’t mind doing it myself.”
“Ah, I die at this point, well then I die,” he shrugged. “Life’s getting too hard, and I’ve had a good one up ‘til now. At this point, every extra day is gravy on top. ‘Bout the only reason I keep livin’ is for Wilma. She goes before me, and well, I’m outta here…and I don’t mean just leavin’ the farm,” he said, giving me a wink.
“At least you have a good outlook on it all,” I agreed, not wanting to get further into the issue of our now regular struggle just to exist.
Inside, we found the table set and dinner almost ready. Everything was laid out and Wilma was just finishing cooking up Will and Joanna’s catch from earlier in the day. She had breaded the fish and was deep frying them in a big skillet. It smelled wonderful.
Jonah and Wilma’s stove was an old fashioned version with a large flat cook top that they could heat with wood. I made a mental note of this cooking option for possible future use as it didn’t rely upon electricity, natural gas or propane.
Once we were seated at the table, we couldn’t help but lay into the fabulous spread awaiting us. Knowing the food situation, I wanted to conserve our supplies, but my stomach just wouldn’t allow it. Having everything set out buffet-style in front of us was just too much. We couldn’t resist, and we ended up eating everything that was presented to us. Wilma and Jonah didn’t appear to mind. They seemed happy to have our bellies filled, and they watched us eat with contented looks upon their faces.
After dinner, I felt like going right to sleep and the thought of having to
do more work really didn’t appeal to me, but since I’d brought up the topic of baths, I figured I should follow through. We all needed them anyway.
An hour later, we had the water trough filled, a fire going outside to boil water, and the first bath takers – the team of Claire and Jason – signed up. The rest of the night was devoted to boiling water and 15-minute baths. That was the timeframe we allowed everyone. It was the only way we could make it through the entire family rotation by bedtime. About halfway through, Ray and I had to take another trip to the pond and refill the trough with water.
By ten o’clock as it was shown on the old grandfather clock that sat in the farmhouse’s downstairs hallway, we had everyone clean and in bed.
Before hitting the sack, I pulled Wilma aside. “Do you have anymore blankets?” I asked her.
“Were you cold last night my dear?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
“No, actually I was quite comfortable. It’s just that Jason, in that small bed; he wiggles and kicks so much. I wanted to make him a little place on the floor so he could squirm around down there. He’s already asleep in the bed right now, so I can just sneak him down there. I doubt he’ll even wake up.”
Wilma nodded knowingly, “Ah, I see,” she said. “A little private time with the wife,” she grinned slyly.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” I said, shaking my head tiredly. “We just want a good night’s sleep, that’s all. We’re both so exhausted after all the digging today and…”
Wilma held up a hand, “Say no more. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I don’t think there are many blankets left, but I might have a down comforter that would make a nice nest for that little animal of yours.”
I wanted to say something about the use of the word “animal” in referencing our son, but I was just so darn tired. Plus, Wilma and Jonah had been such welcoming and gracious hosts, I felt kind of bad bringing it up, so I just let it be.
Wilma tottered off into their bedroom and was back a minute later with a huge, fluffy down comforter. “There you are,” she said, handing it to me. “I think this should work just fine.”
“Perfect,” I nodded. “Thanks so much, Wilma.”
“My pleasure,” she gave me that grandmotherly smile, reaching up and pinching my check in the process. “Now you have sweet dreams.”
“You too,” I said, leaving to make up Jason’s little nest at the end of our bed. Claire joined me in the bedroom, sitting down to brush her hair at the bedroom vanity as I worked. She wore a long cotton nightgown, lent to her from Wilma, and that actually made her look quite striking…maybe because it was so old fashioned and unique compared to more modern bedclothes.
When I was finished, I stood. A candle by the bed and an oil lamp set upon the vanity beside Claire were all that lit the darkened bedroom. They were just enough to illuminate Jason’s sweet cherub face as he slept. He looked so innocent, so peaceful. He was sleeping so soundly that he never woke as I pulled the covers back from the bed and lifted him gently down to the floor. There, I nestled him into the comforter, pulling a portion of it over to cover him, and sliding a pillow beneath his head.
Claire finished brushing her hair, blowing out the lamp and climbing into bed. For a brief instant after I blew out the candle and got into bed beside her, I thought about making love. We were alone…relatively speaking, and both cleaner than we’d been in weeks. It was the perfect opportunity. I felt her snuggle up close to me, reaching an arm around my abdomen. Feeling around behind me, I found her cute little butt beneath the thin linen of her nightgown and cupped a cheek in my hand. It was as far as I got. I was so exhausted that I was asleep a minute later. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but the body just wasn’t willing tonight.
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when I woke with a start. It was one of the times when you wake up as though you’ve just heard something but you’re not sure if it was real or just a dream.
I lay motionless, straining to listen in the blackness. This time, I was sure someone else was in the room with us. I could sense their presence.
As I listened, I caught what sounded like breathing over by the doorway, and then there was the soft shuffling of movement. I nudged Claire with my elbow, but I could tell she was still asleep.
I heard the shuffling sound again.
I quietly reached over to where I’d left a pack of matches I used to light our bedside candle. I groped silently in the darkness until I found them. Again I heard the movement, then a soft whine and a hushed, “Shhh…” come from over by the doorway.
“Jonah?” I said softly.
“Shhh…” came the response.
Then I heard Jason’s voice. “Dadda?” he said meekly.
I opened the matchbox, pulled a match from within and struck it against the box’s side. As I turned to hold it out before me, allowing my eyes adjust to the light, I heard Wilma’s voice say, “I’ve caught me a little animal. Found it in its borough.”
“Dadda?” I again heard Jason’s timid voice say softly. “Dadda…scared.”
My eyes strained to see in the dim light. The match didn’t cast much of a glow about the room. As my eyes began to focus, I could see the glow of Cashmere’s eyes in the light from where she lay on my feet near the end of the bed. Finally, as my range of vision extended to the doorway, Wilma continued, “Now it’s time to kill that little animal and clean it for dinner.”
Just as the match light began to dwindle, a horrific image came into focus. Wilma was standing in the doorway, a terrified Jason standing before her, a double-barrel shogun in Wilma’s hands aimed at him.
The match burned itself out. “Wilma!” I cried. “NO!”
Claire lurched up in the bed beside me, awake, and frightened by my words. There was the sound of someone else in the hallway. Then there was a huge explosion and flash of light from the shotgun.
Cashmere sprang from my feet at the sound of the shotgun and shot off into the blackness. I scrambled to extricate myself from the bed’s blankets, but my legs became tangled in the sheets and I fell onto the cold wood floor. The packet of matches was still in my hand, and as I lay on the floor, with a lightening quick swipe of my hand, I somehow managed to light another one.
Now I could see Jonah’s form lying on the floor just outside our doorway. Wilma stood staring at her husband, the smoking shotgun in her hands. Jason was nowhere to be seen.
“Wilma! What are you doing?” I said as I stood and started toward her, but my movement caused the match to go out. Again I was left in pure blackness.
A second later the shotgun went off again. The flash from the blast temporarily blinded me.
I fumbled in the darkness to strike another match. Meanwhile, I rushed over to where the oil lamp sat on our dresser. I tore the glass shade away. Losing my grip on it, I heard it smash on the floor somewhere behind me. I quickly touched the match I’d managed to strike to the lamp’s wick.
With the room now dimly lit, the first thing I did was scan for Jason.
I exhaled a huge sigh of relief when I saw a lump under the down comforter bed we’d made for him. Claire was up now. But my relief didn’t last long as I realized I had no idea whether Jason had been harmed by Wilma’s blasts.
I rushed over and knelt beside his bed, ripping the comforter off of him. He was there crying. I did a quick inspection of him, “Are you alright?” I asked. He just sobbed and shuddered, terrified. As best I could tell, he appeared uninjured. “Claire!” I called, “Stay with Jason!”
I stood and rushed over to where Wilma now lay on the hallway floor. I held the oil lamp down to see.
It was gruesome sight. I saw the shotgun lying beside her. A black pool of blood, growing ever larger by the second, was running out across the hallway’s wood planks. Then there was Wilma, covered in blood, her head half gone. I moved the light over to Jonah. There was a gapping wound in his chest where Wilma had shot him. Moving the light up to his face, his eyes were open wide, bits of
blood and flesh littered his fine white beard. It was a ghastly scene, and moments later, the rest of the house – minus Will, who was struggling to get up the stairs – had arrived on the scene.
There was no need to upset the kids with such awful images, so I quickly ushered Sarah back downstairs to spare her from the sight. Then I had Claire cover Jason’s head with a blanket and carry him downstairs as well.
Claire gawked at the sight of our two dead hosts as she passed, biting her lip in horror as she skirted her way around the blood from the two bodies that was now beginning to trickle its way down the first step of the stairs.
Needless to say, no one got much sleep for the rest of the night. Ray, Joanna, Pam, and I collected the corpses of Jonah and Wilma, wrapped them in sheets and took them down to the cellar.
Claire and Emily did their best to comfort poor little Jason who had been traumatized by the events of the night and now sat in shock, held tightly in his mother’s loving arms. Eventually, Claire tried to feed him some sweets to take his mind off things, but at the appearance of peaches, he started screaming, “Wilma feed peaches! Wilma feed peaches!”
They were quickly taken away.
Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep from which he would awaken screaming only to cry himself back to sleep a minute or two later.
I left Joanna and Shane to continue resting with Dad and Paul out in the barn. They needed their rest and would find out about what had happened in the morning.
Once the kids were all back to sleep, the rest of us met in the dining room for a brief pow-wow on what our next move would be.
The group sat, dazed, confused, frightened.
“What the hell happened up there?” Will finally said, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” I said staring, open mouthed at nothing in particular on the tabletop before me. “I woke up, heard something…heard Jason…Wilma had him, she had the shotgun, then…” I shook my head, “…then, I don’t know. I don’t know if she got scared. She was saying something about having found her little animal and how she was going to cook it to eat or something.”
The Systemic Series - Box Set Page 58
