“I’m surprised they let you go,” Miriam said.
“They didn’t want me to leave,” The boy admitted. “I kind of snuck out after everybody was asleep. I left them a note.”
He stood up and stretched. “I’m really tired. Can I lay down for a while?”
“Of course. But, don’t you want something to eat first?”
“I think I’m more tired than hungry right now,” the boy answered. “I’ve been walking for two days. I didn’t stop much. It was too scary in the dark by myself.”
“Where’s your bike?” Stan asked.
“I brought it,” Danny yawned. “But mostly I had to push it. It was too hard to ride in the dark. I almost left it a couple of times.”
He yawned again. “I really need to lie down.”
Miriam smiled. He was dirty and smelled like sweat. His red hair hung in greasy strands below the baseball cap he wore. But he was beautiful to her. “You go ahead and sleep as long as you want,” she said.
“And when you wake up,” Stan added, “There will be lots to do. I’m sure glad you’re here. It’ll be a big help.”
Danny was already making his way up the stairs and they watched him go with mixed feelings. It was good to have him home. The house was way too quiet without their children.
Miriam sighed. “Who knew we’d want our kids fighting and yelling at each other again?”
“I know what you mean.” Stan took her hand. “I wish Danny had stayed to help Mom and Dad, but I can’t lie, I’m really glad he came home.”
Miriam nodded.
**************************************************
When Danny stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen later that afternoon, he found it empty. A note on the table said his mom had gone shopping. There was nothing about his dad. He laughed. Shopping? For what? Where?
He found a bag of apples in the pantry and helped himself to one. His Grandma said he had a hollow leg like all growing boys, and he supposed that was true. He was always hungry these days but didn’t like to say so when he knew they had to ration what they had. He poked his head out the back door but didn’t see anyone in the yard or the alley. He put his hand on the heater. It was cold, so they must have been gone for a while. He opened the lid and peered inside. There was a pile of ashes on the bottom. Should he try to light it? He had lit fires while they were camping, and his Grandpa had shown him some tricks about lighting the fireplace fire. He closed the lid and chewed on the apple, considering.
The back door opened as he was stuffing paper into the round firebox. His dad grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t light that,” he warned.
Danny gave him a surprised look. “Why? Don’t you think I can light a fire?”
Stan shook his head. “There’s a trick to an air-tight heater,” he said. “The reason it’s called air-tight is because it is.” He pointed to a round vent on the front of the stove. “You have to make sure air is getting in.” He pushed a little handle and the vent opened. He reached up and opened another vent in the stove pipe. “Okay, now it can get air. If you try to light it without air, it's apt to explode when you open the lid.”
Stan made a pyramid of kindling around the crumpled paper. He lowered a lit match, and a small flame began to lick at it. “Always make sure the vents are open when you light it, or when you add wood.” Stan laughed softly. “There’s many a farm kid with singed eyebrows when they didn’t learn that lesson.”
He closed the lid and adjusted the flue. “When we want the fire to last, like at night, we close the vents. That closes off the air and the fire will just smoulder. But never open the lid if all the vents are closed. Now hand me a bigger stick of wood.”
Danny handed over a split log from the pile by the back door. Stan laid it on top of the kindling which was burning merrily.
“First lesson in pioneer living.” Stan gave his son a squeeze around the shoulders. “It won’t be the last.”
“I’ve learned lots of lessons.” Danny sat on the nearest chair. “I had to help Grandpa and Uncle Tim cut wood and carry water from the well. And I had to ride my bike around dead people.”
Stan patted the top of his son’s head. “Of course, you have. I’m glad you’re here, even though you would be safer at the farm. The house has felt pretty empty lately.”
They both turned towards the door as Miriam bustled in, carrying two heavy looking, plastic bags.
'I'm getting to be a pretty good shopper,’ she said, setting the bags on the table. “I walk around town looking for empty houses. If nobody answers the door, and they don't look lived in, I go in and check out the pantry.” She opened a bag and lined up cans beside it. “It hasn’t been that long, so whatever we find will be okay. I took what I could carry, but one house was really well stocked and we should go back there. I think they were planning ahead for the zombie apocalypse.”
Stan picked up a can of beans and rolled it in his palms. “Well, the apocalypse is here, I think. Minus the zombies. I hope whoever they are, they're safe.”
Miriam stopped pulling cans out. Her chin trembled. “I actually feel terrible going into people’s houses. But we need to eat and until we find Tara, we’re stuck here. Besides,” she turned back to her task. “I left them a cheque.”
Stan snorted. “A lot of good that’ll do them. But you’re right, we don’t have any choice.” He glanced out the window. The day was darkening and he knew the sky in the west would be striped with pink and red from the setting sun. “Danny, there’s a few sticks of wood in the backyard. Why don’t you get enough to last the night and we’ll eat while it's still light? I don’t want to waste candles or batteries if we don’t have to.”
“I’ll make tea,” Miriam said brightly. And we can heat up some of this canned spaghetti.” Danny wrinkled his nose but his mom ignored him. They would have to eat what they had.
Chapter 15 - Darkness
The town was getting darker and emptier. When Miriam went out to search for supplies she very seldom met anyone. Drapes were pulled back as she passed and her neck prickled, feeling the eyes following her progress. At night only a few windows reflected dim candle light. Those who hadn’t left were keeping to themselves. The Mayor’s idea of sharing food was a distant dream as families worried about how to get themselves through the winter.
Superintendent Doyle came by late in October looking haggard and worried. His police force was disintegrating as the officers slipped away, worried about their own families.
“I need help.” He greeted them. “The hospital has been turned into a morgue, but there are sick people who are still stuck there.” He sipped a cup of watery coffee. “Luckily the blackout started at night, so nobody was being operated on. That would be a nightmare. But everybody who was on any kind of life support didn’t have a chance.”
“Are there any nurses there?” Miriam asked.
“A few stayed because they couldn’t get home,” the officer answered. “But after a few days they started leaving, and I can’t blame them. The trouble is only a few came back.”
“What about families of the patients?”
“I’m sure they tried.” Doyle set his cup down. “The point is there are about ten bed-ridden people still there. The food is running out, and it’s getting colder by the day. If we had a few people willing to spend a few hours a day we could relieve the nurses. They’re at their breaking points.”
Miriam and Stan glanced at each other. They thought of his elderly parents on the farm, dependent on Tim and Maureen. They thought of their daughter, lost and perhaps depending on the kindness of strangers. “Of course, we’ll help,” Miriam said. “I’ll go over there today and see what they need.”
“Danny and I’ll go too,” Stan offered. “And I’m sure there are others in town who will help too if you ask them.”
“I’m on my way to do just that.” Doyle stood up and buttoned his coat.
After shaking hands with the officer, and seeing him out, Stan and M
iriam walked across town to the small hospital.
As they stepped through the glass doors and into the emergency section, they involuntarily covered their noses and mouths. The stench of death and desperation hung in the empty room. Without speaking they followed the sound of voices deeper into the building. Turning a corner, they saw that the emergency room had been turned into a giant ward. The curtains between the cubicles had been pushed aside.
The patients were covered to their necks with piles of blankets. Ten sets of dull eyes turned towards the visitors. A young woman wearing a coat over jeans and boots moved between the beds. Her lower face was covered by a surgical mask.
She looked up, startled when Stan spoke.
“Is Dr. Quinn here?” he asked.
She shook her head and walked towards them. “He comes around twice a day. Did you need to see him?”
“No, we came to see what we could do to help.”
The young woman tried to smile, behind her mask. “That’s good news. We’re stretched pretty tight here.”
“We’re Stan and Miriam Morrisson.” Stan reached to shake her hand but when she didn’t return the gesture, he pulled back. “We aren’t nurses, but maybe we can get you some supplies. What do you need the most?”
“Take a look around.” The woman gestured towards the crowded room. “None of these people are mobile, and even if they were, we wouldn’t let them up. They need to conserve their strength.”
“Don’t they have families?” Miriam asked.
“Of course.” A bitter laugh. “I have a family too. But where are they? We don’t know. I went to my house, but nobody’s there. I know my husband was on his way home from Prince George. My son has disappeared. So, I stay here and try to keep these people alive until this nightmare is over.”
“Our daughter disappeared too,” Miriam said sympathetically. “We think she ran away to be with a boy, but like you, we don’t know.”
“Jenny.” The woman turned at the sound of her name. An emaciated hand waved from the other end of the room. “I have to go.” She hurried away calling over her shoulder, “Bring food. That’s what we need the most. And our camp stove is nearly out of fuel, so that would help too. And if you can find a furnace that works…” her voice trailed off as she leaned over the bed.
Another woman, bundled into sweaters and wearing a wool cap over grey hair scurried past them. She didn’t acknowledge them but moved directly to the first bed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pill bottle. They watched her fish out a pill and offer it to the patient.
On their way out of the hospital, they passed the doctor. He stopped and shook hands. “I’m doing the best I can,” he admitted. “But most of those people will die unless we get proper medication soon. We sent most of the patients home right after the power went out. The ones that are left are the hospice patients.”
“We have potatoes and carrots from the garden,” Miriam said. “I’m going to cook up as much as I can and bring it back.”
“I’m going to see if I can find another heater like we have in our kitchen,” Stan said. “And I’ll get some men to board up the empty rooms.”
A week later, Stan surveyed the crowded ward with satisfaction. Going door to door asking for help had paid off. A dozen men had shown up, most of them looking thin and tired but willing to work. A wall had been built between the emergency room and the rest of the hospital, and a small wood heater threw off heat in a corner of the room. The patients had been able to throw off some of their heavy blankets and the three nurses could work without being bundled up. A pile of wood was growing outside the main doors and the men had promised to keep it replenished through the winter if necessary.
The nurses were sleeping at the hospital and beds had been moved into the lobby, where another heater sat ready to be hooked up.
The older woman Stan had seen giving out pills approached him. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Morrisson,” she smiled. “I think we might be able to keep these people alive until their families come for them or the power comes back on.”
“I hope so,” Stan grinned down at her. “My wife and son will bring food when they can, and I’m sure that the rest of the townspeople will do the same.”
She nodded. “It’s nice to know there are good people out there isn’t it?”
“Speaking of good people,” Stan turned as the door opened behind them. “Here’s Mrs. Jacobsen with some soup.”
The woman handed over a large pot. “Just heat it up,” she ordered. “It’s mostly cabbage, but it will fill the gap.”
The two women moved away and with one last glance, Stan turned towards the door. He stood on the step for a few minutes, breathing deeply. It smelled like snow was coming. If the power didn’t come back on soon it would be a long, cold winter.
He wondered how many people had signed the register at the meeting. It seemed like years ago, instead of a couple of weeks. Since then, he knew more had left town, making their way to someplace where they felt safe. Those who were left would have to work together if they were to survive.
Chapter 16 - Looters
Superintendent Doyle became a frequent visitor at the Morrisson home. It started to be a weekly ritual that he would drop by and fill them in on happenings around town.
“That young guy I sent out at the beginning came back, but he didn’t stay long.” Doyle sipped a cup of weak coffee. “I sent him back out to check all the cars along the highway and try to identify the owners. He seemed okay with doing that, but I haven’t seen him in a month.” He set the cup on the table. “I think I might take a bike and go out by myself.”
Stan nodded and cupped his hands around his favourite mug. With the heater going and their old camping coffee pot simmering on it, the kitchen felt warm and cozy. “If you go,” he said, “there won’t be any law here at all.”
Doyle shrugged. “So far everybody is pretty well behaved. As long as we can find basic supplies there’s nothing to fight over. No bars or pubs mean no drunks wandering around causing trouble. It’s pretty quiet overall. Besides, I’m talking about one day, maybe two.”
“Is anybody left at the station?” Miriam asked.
“Oh yeah. There’s a young Corporal McKenzie and Amanda Spencer. They haven’t run away yet. Probably because they don’t have kids and their parents are in Ontario. I think I can count on them.”
He drained his cup and stood up. “I’m not going right away.” He set his hat precisely on his head. The bill shadowed his eyes so they couldn’t see the sadness in them. “If I go, I’ll let you know.”
“Maybe you’ll see something to lead us to Tara,” Miriam said softly and the officer nodded.
After he had left, Stan and Miriam remained at the table, gazing absently at the door.
“He looks really tired.” Miriam broke the silence.
Stan nodded. “Before you came in he told me there were three more suicides last night. One woman shot her five-year-old and herself.” He sighed. “I guess she had reached her limit.”
Miriam reached for his hand.
The door was flung open and bounced against the wall. Danny rushed in, wild-eyed and shaking. Without saying a word he slammed the door shut and ran towards the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Both parents leaped to their feet. “Danny, what happened?”
The clomping of his boots on the stairs was the only answer.
There was a pounding on the front door, startling them both.
“Don’t open it!” Miriam cried as Stan moved into the living room. “See who it is first.”
Stan peered out at the front door. “It’s two guys,” he said and unlocked the deadbolt.
He opened the door an inch, ready to ask the men what they wanted when he was flung backwards. The men pushed the door wider and grinned at Stan as he struggled to get up.
“Hey, Mr. Morrisson,” the larger man said. “We came to see if you could help us.”
“Help you with what?” Stan got to h
is feet. “Who are you?”
The young man who spoke was a giant and Stan had to look up at him. His face was covered in a tangled black beard. The other guy was thinner and shorter. His hair was pulled back into a long ponytail. Stan could see that he was younger than the bearded man. Not more than sixteen, he guessed.
“It doesn’t matter who we are,” the bearded one said. “We’re in town looking for supplies and we know you have a stash. We met your kid outside but he wouldn’t give us anything, so we just followed him here.”
Recognition dawned as Stan studied the man in front of him. “I know you. You’re that Leonard kid that hangs around with Will Thompson. Where is he? Where’s my daughter?”
He threw himself forward, meaning to grab the boy’s throat. Leonard laughed and easily deflected the older man. The pony-tailed one sauntered towards the kitchen.
He stopped when a determined-looking woman holding a rifle stepped in front of him. “Where’s my daughter?” she demanded. “What have you done with her?”
“Wait a minute.” The boy held his hands up. “I don’t know who your daughter is. We just want food.”
“Well, you won't find it here.” Miriam spat. “If you had come and asked we would have shared what we have, but thieves get nothing.”
“C’mon, Dax.” The giant let go of Stan and stepped towards the door. “We’ll check next door.”
The two of them backed away. “Wait a minute,” Stan shouted. “I know you’re friends with Will Thompson. Where is he?”
Both boys laughed as they turned and ran. Stan and Miriam stepped out on the porch and watched their fleeing backs. “I should go after them,” Stan muttered, but his wife grabbed his arm.
“No, don’t go.” She sagged against him. “We don’t need you getting beat up, or worse.”
Staring after them, Stan saw a blond girl dart out from between some bushes and join the boys. “Isn’t that Jane Morgan?” he asked his wife.
The Incident | Book 3 | Winter of Darkness Page 6
