“I don’t think so.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “I think we should consider putting a wood heater in here. We can lead a stovepipe out the window. At least then we can heat a kettle.”
“Where will we find a wood stove?” She looked around her modern kitchen. The electric range sat in its slot facing the equally useless refrigerator and dishwasher. The floor no longer shone from repeated washings. Water was kept for washing themselves and drinking, and soon it would be only for drinking. She leaned forward and ran her hands through her hair, startled when no thick curls met her touch. She began to cry again, tears dripping silently between her fingers.
Stan stood up and massaged her shoulders. “As soon as we find her, we’ll head to the farm.” He said. “But in the meantime, let's plan for the winter. If we have to, we’ll move into an empty house that has a wood fireplace.”
“As long as it's not the Thompson house.” She shuddered.
Stan looked out into the blackness that shrouded the town. “Let’s go to the hardware store right now.” He suggested. “Nobody will be out, and we can see if there are any airtight heaters and stove pipes there. They cater to so many farmers, there’s bound to be a lot of useful stuff.”
“It’s pretty dark.” Miriam looked doubtful. “And it’ll be locked up.”
“We’ll take a flashlight. Come on, it’ll be romantic walking under the stars. We’ll just take a look and if it looks promising, we’ll find Al tomorrow and ask him to open up.”
The night was cool so they put on their heavy jackets before starting the short walk downtown. Stan shone the flashlight at their feet, marking a trail to follow. At one point they stopped and breathed in the frosty air. Above them, millions of stars twinkled and shone, unperturbed by the problems faced on earth. The houses were all dark, with only the occasional flicker of candlelight showing through windows. Their shoulders touched as they walked, and Stan reached for his wife’s hand.
As they turned the corner to Main street, they saw movement in front of the hardware store. Stan shone his light toward the plate glass windows. They moved tentatively closer. The front window had been broken, and the heavy doors propped open. They stopped in confusion. In the darkness, a shadow stood watching and Stan realized it was Al.
“What’s going on?” Stan laid a hand on the owner’s shoulder, causing him to jump.
“Look at them!” Al shouted, waving his hands toward his business. “I would have opened the door if they asked.” His voice broke and more quietly he pleaded. “Why didn’t they ask?”
“Who are they?” Stan peered into the darkness. “Wait! Isn’t that Phil?”
“Phil!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
His partner came toward them carrying a box full of flashlights and batteries. He looked sheepishly at Al.
“Sorry, Al. I just happened by and saw guys carrying stuff away. I need stuff too, and I wanted to grab it before it was all gone. Don’t worry insurance will cover your losses.”
The store owner laughed bitterly. “And when will that be, Mr. Insurance agent? This is my life you’re carrying in that box.” He waved at the men moving back and forth in the light of Stan’s flashlight. “My life is being carried away one box at a time.” He spat at Phil’s feet. “I’m going home. Tomorrow when its’ daylight, come and assess the damages. In case money can save us someday.” He stalked away.
“Just happened by, hey?” Stan looked at his friend with disgust. “We were going to get Al to open the store tomorrow so we could BUY a stove. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about my kids, huddling together in one bed to keep warm and eating dry cereal for supper.” Phil’s eyes snapped. “Don’t go all holy on me, Stan. You know you would do the same for your family.” He turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.
Miriam pulled on Stan’s arm. “Come on, Stan. Let’s go see if we can find that heater you were talking about. None of these people are carrying anything that big, so maybe they haven’t thought of it yet.”
Stan looked down at her in disbelief. “You want to loot a store?”
“We’re not looting. Al knows we’re here and tomorrow we’ll get a bill from him. But right now, we need heat. So, come with me or stand out here and struggle with your conscience while I go in.”
Grumbling Stan followed her into the pitch-black store. A few flashlights bobbed near the back and they could hear soft voices. Stan switched his own light on and aimed it at the signs on the ceiling. “Let's try farm supplies.” He whispered in Miriam’s ear.
They almost tripped over a stack of stovepipes in the third aisle they tried. A row of round, black metal heaters lined a wall.
Stan handed the flashlight to Miriam and lifted one of the heaters. “It’s too awkward to carry like this.” He complained.
There was an opening in the top for a stovepipe and he reached into it. “Ow! I forgot how sharp these things are.” He pulled his hand out and stuck a bleeding finger into his mouth. “Find me some gloves, Honey.”
Miriam left him in the darkness and set off to find gloves. She returned with two pairs and handed one to him.
“Why does he have so many?” Miriam tucked the flashlight under her arm and grabbed three lengths of black pipe.
“People use them to heat sheds and chicken coops,” Stan explained while trying to balance the heater and two lengths of pipe. “They’re not heavy, but this is going to be hard to get home all at once.”
“We could make two trips,” Miriam suggested.
Stan shook his head. “Somebody is going to figure out what these things are for, and by the time we come back they’ll be gone.” He held up one finger. “Listen.”
There was the sound of glass breaking and a man cursed.
“I have a better idea,” Stan continued. “It’s so dark, nobody can see anything. Let’s hide what we need in the bathroom. Then we can come back later with the wheelbarrow and get it.”
“Good idea,” Miriam whispered.
For the next half hour, the couple stashed supplies in the bathroom at the back of the store. The flashlights and batteries were gone, and the shelves that held candles were stripped bare. They managed to find two packages of toilet paper and the last three bars of soap.
The store seemed empty of people when they had finished. The night had turned colder and a few light clouds scudded across the night sky. Loading their arms with supplies they made their way home. They dragged the wheelbarrow back and with the help of that and a wagon, someone had left in their yard, managed to be back at home sipping tea by midnight.
“Tomorrow,” Stan said, “we’ll take inventory and let Al know what we’ve taken. And then, we’ll figure out where to set up the stove.”
Miriam nodded. “And then we’ll have to find wood to burn, and matches to light it with.”
She dropped her coat, too tired to worry about hanging it in the closet. “But right now, I’m going to bed.”
“Me too.” Stan threw his own coat over the back of the couch. “I thought I’d be awake all night after our nap this afternoon. But hard work has a way of making you tired.”
The couple climbed, arm in arm, to their room at the top of the stairs, the silence crashing down on them.
Chapter 13 – Consequences
A pounding on the front door brought Stan running down the stairs the next morning. He flung the door open ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. It was barely light, for God’s sake. His angry words died when he saw Superintendent Doyle.
“Were you downtown last night?” Doyle demanded.
“Well, hello to you too, Superintendent. Won’t you come in out of the cold?” Stan stepped back.
The cop followed him in. “Not much warmer in here,” he commented. His eyes went to the cardboard box on the coffee table, Stan’s coat thrown over the back of the couch, and a pile of wrapped pipes in front of the gas fireplace.
“Guess that answers my question,” Doyle said.
“We went down to see if Al had any wood heaters.” Stan looked around nervously. “When we got there someone had broken in and people were carting stuff out the windows. We saw Al, and we took what we needed before it was all gone.”
Neither man had heard Miriam come into the room. “We’re going to make a list of what we took.” Her voice shook, “and pay him for it as soon as we can.”
She wrapped her robe tightly around herself and shivered. “Al was pretty upset. Did he come and complain?”
Doyle pushed his cap further back on his head. “He didn’t complain. And you won’t have to pay him. His wife found him hanging in the garage this morning.”
“What?” Stan and Miriam both gasped. “What happened?” They sat on the couch, instinctively reaching for each other’s hand.
The cop sat on the easy chair opposite. They could see now that his uniform was wrinkled, and his hair was much longer than the regulation cut. The bags under his eyes attested to many sleepless nights. He ran a calloused hand over his face.
“What time did you go down there?” he asked.
The couple looked at each other. “I don’t know,” Stan confessed. “It was dark. We slept most of the afternoon, and you know there aren’t many clocks around.”
Doyle pointed at Miriam’s wrist. “You have a watch.”
She followed his gaze. “I know, but time doesn’t really mean much anymore, does it? I don’t remember checking the time.” She leaned forward. “We didn’t mean to break in. The door was open, and as Stan said, we were afraid if we waited until morning everything would be gone.”
“You saw Al?”
“Yes,” Stan answered. “And he was upset, but Phil told him the insurance would cover it.”
“Oh, so your partner was there too?”
“Most of the town was there.” Miriam nodded. “Except for any law enforcement.”
Doyle took a deep breath. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Our law enforcement is getting pretty thin. The constable I sent out on the horse hasn’t come back. Two of my men took their families and headed for Vancouver on foot. One was out in his car when the power quit and we haven’t heard hide nor hair of him, and I was, I admit, sleeping.”
He stood up and started pacing around the room. “I’m down to me and three others. We’re not a big contingent as you can imagine.”
“I wish I could offer you coffee,” Miriam said. “Once we get the stove set up, we can have hot water.”
“Yeah, I know.” Doyle zipped up his coat. “I’ve got a lot of people to talk to, I guess. Most of them are the same as you. They’re trying to plan for winter.” He sighed. “I guess the loss of his store tipped Al over the edge. His wife says he was pretty depressed and scared.”
After the door had closed behind their visitor, Stan and Miriam looked at each other, then at the tin heater. “Guess we’d better get busy cutting a hole in the roof.” Stan looked glum.
“I don’t want you climbing around up there alone.” Miriam started for the stairs. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll do it together.”
Stan followed her slowly. Al’s last words haunted him. He knew he wouldn’t soon forget the man’s despairing look as he left them in front of the store.
The couple was staring at the pile of stovepipes, wondering how to assemble them, when they were interrupted by a knock on the back door.
Before they could answer, Phil walked in.
“You look terrible,” Miriam exclaimed. “You must have heard about Al.”
“Yeah, I did.” Phil pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “I feel awful. He probably thought I was making light of his losses when I told him insurance would cover it.” He stared at his boots.
“Sorry, Miriam. I should have taken my shoes off.”
“Don’t be silly. Your feet would freeze to the floor.” Miriam covered his hand with hers. “We all feel awful. Who knew he would be devastated enough to take his own life?”
“Still…” Phil’s voice trailed off, and he stared at the hardware piled up around them. “What are you doing, anyway?”
Stan was glum. “We thought we would hook up this little heater, but we have absolutely no idea how it works.” He kicked at a stray pipe that had rolled towards him.
Phil grinned weakly. “Of course, you don’t. What does an insurance agent know about construction or heaters?”
“Nothing apparently. Do you know who might?” Stan looked hopefully at his friend.
“I could ask around. There must be someone in town. In the meantime, Doyle asked if we would meet him over at the Thompson house. Someone has to haul the old man up the stairs and bury him.”
Stan shuddered. “Why us? Isn’t the funeral home still open?” Or what about his cops?”
“The funeral home will bury him if we can haul him across town, but they’re not willing to walk over and get him. Plus, they’re busy with a couple of suicides besides Al’s. And I may as tell you now, that after we move the body, I’m packing up the wife and kids and heading to my parents in Chilliwack.”
“Chilliwack!” Stan pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet. “That’s over eight hundred kilometres, man!”
Phil looked around the kitchen. The little black stove stood in the corner. Supplies were scattered over the countertop. Pipes littered the floor. The table was covered with pieces of foolscap. He could see that the couple had been drawing diagrams trying to figure out their heat problem.
“I can’t stay.” He said finally. “We’re running out of food, and it’s going to be cold pretty soon. I want to get on my way before then. And admit it, if Tara hadn’t run away, you’d be at your parents’ by now.”
“But they’re eighty kilometres away.” Miriam interrupted. “We could do that in two days. And we don’t have a baby.”
“Why don’t you stay here with us?” Stan asked. He waved his arm to indicate the spacious living room. “We have lots of room, and once we find someone to help us with this heater, we’ll be warm. We can hunt if we have to.”
His partner hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I already told Mary to start packing. If we leave now, we can be there by the middle of October. And maybe this power outage doesn’t cover the whole province. Then we can get a car and come back for you.”
“Now, come on. Let’s get this Thompson thing finished.” He leaned over and kissed Miriam on the cheek. “Bye, Miriam. We’ll be back when this is all over.”
A tear rolled down her face as she watched the men cross the backyard. She felt a flash of anger at her runaway daughter. If not for her, they would be safe at the farm, not here trying to figure out how to stay warm. She was instantly contrite. All she really wanted was Tara’s safe return. Unlike Stan, she did not believe that nothing bad could happen in a week.
Chapter 14 – Danny
“I told you.” Stan lifted the cup to his lips and blew gently. “Doyle said it was mighty strange that old Thompson forgot about the loose step. He lived in that house for twenty years.”
Miriam sat down next to him and sighed. “He was probably too drunk. And I don’t know why everyone called him the old man. He’s probably the same age as us.”
Stan chuckled. “I know. It's just that he seemed old, and it was to differentiate him from the young Thompson, I guess.”
“Never mind.” Miriam patted his arm. “I’m just glad that we found someone to hook up the heater. We’d be drinking cold coffee without it.”
The back door swung open and they both jumped to their feet. Their son was framed in the morning light. He stepped forward and swung his backpack to the floor before throwing his arms around them.
“What are you doing here?” Miriam pushed him away and studied his face. “You’re supposed to be at the farm helping Grandma and Grandpa.”
“They don’t need me.” Danny hugged her tighter. “Besides I missed you.”
“We missed you too, Son.” With a final squeeze, Stan released the boy. As he did,
he noticed they were almost the same height. When had his baby boy grown so much? Soon they’ll be calling me the old man, he thought, grinning to himself.
“Are you hungry?” Miriam asked.
“Starving!” Danny looked around the kitchen. The new heater sat on a pedestal of bricks. A black stove pipe snaked up and out the boarded-up kitchen window. A metal sheet protected the wall. “That’s why it's so warm in here.” He commented.
“It's not beautiful,” Stan said. “But drastic measures are needed. Now it's going to be a chore to get wood to keep it going.”
“Sit down.” Miriam urged. “Tell us how everybody is. How was the trip getting there? Are the twins settling in?”
“I guess Tara didn’t come home yet.” Danny pulled an envelope out of his pack. “Auntie Mo sent you a letter.”
Miriam grabbed it eagerly but didn’t move to open it.
“Come on, Son. Tell us what you saw,” Stan urged.
The boy lowered his eyes. “It’s awful.” He said finally. “When we left here on the bikes, we had no idea how many cars and trucks were stranded on the road. The ones close to town weren’t bad. Most of them were empty. Uncle Tim said the drivers must have walked home. That spot on the road where it curves around the mountain was bad though. We could see at least three cars at the bottom, but we didn’t go down. At one spot a truck had swerved and there were about ten burned-up cars crashed together.” He paused and picked at a torn cuticle. “Uncle Tim said not to look, so I didn’t. We just kept going until we turned off the main highway to go to Grandpa’s.”
Miriam reached over and grabbed his hand.
“We passed a lot of people walking,” Danny said. “Or they were on bikes. One guy had a horse. I don’t know where they were going though.”
Stan’s eyes met his wife’s across the table. “How about at the farm? Were they okay?”
“They were really glad to see us.” Danny sat a little straighter. “They opened up the old well and are pulling water out by the bucket. It was pretty hard on Grandpa. I chopped a bunch of wood for them before I left and Auntie Mo was learning to cook on an open fireplace.” He smiled. “That was a sight to see. Just about everything was half raw, but Grandma says she’ll learn.”
The Incident | Book 3 | Winter of Darkness Page 5
