Miriam shaded her eyes with her hand. A backpack bounced on the girl’s shoulders. The bearded boy grabbed her hand as she came even with him. “I think it is,” she said. “Why would she be hanging out with those hoodlums?”
Stan took the rifle from his wife. Shaking their heads, they stepped inside. Danny stared at them from the bottom of the stairs. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes were wide with fear.
For the next few days, Danny stayed close to home. If he did go out, he peered around corners and constantly looked over his shoulder. The encounter with the would-be thieves had made him jumpy, and while his dad had tried to reassure him, he wasn’t entirely convinced they had left for good.
October was nearing its end and the days were crisp when he finally ventured into town. He wished he had brought his gloves. He blew on his fingers and looked both ways before stepping onto the street, not sure what he was watching for. A crowd of people were milling about in the middle of Main street and he moved closer. When he saw what the attraction was he turned and ran for home.
Miriam looked up when he pounded through the back door.
“Mom, come quick. Bring a box.” Danny began digging through the boxes of food on the counter, tossing cans and packages aside. “Quick, Mom. There’s a guy with a wagon load of pumpkins in front of the grocery store.”
Miriam dropped the jeans she was patching. “Slow down, Danny.” She grabbed his arm before he could bolt out the door. “What can we trade with? He won’t want money.”
“I don’t know. I just saw the wagon and ran back to tell you. Come on before they’re all gone!”
Mother and son ran side by side towards the middle of town. An empty cardboard box swung from Danny’s fist. Rounding the corner, they saw a man handing out pumpkins from the back of a rickety farm wagon. Two horses stood with their heads down, while a few children patted their noses.
Miriam was panting when she reached the wagon. To her despair, she saw it was nearly empty. People were carting away boxes of pumpkins and squash. “How much do you want for them?” she asked the weather-beaten man.
He turned tired eyes toward her. “I’m trading, Missus. Money ain’t doin’ me any good these days. What do you have?”
“Canned vegetables?” she said hopefully, handing him the box.
He grinned. “I have lots of vegetables,” he said while putting two pumpkins and two large zucchinis in the box. “I need ammunition for my .22 though. Got any of that?”
Miriam looked at Danny and he nodded. “We can spare some.”
“Can you wait while we go get it?” Miriam eyed the box hopefully. “Or you can come up to the house with us.”
“I gotta wait here.” He waved at the now empty wagon bed. “Most people didn’t have anything with them, so I got a lot of promises. I hope some of them will come back and pay.”
“You’re pretty trusting,” Miriam commented.
“Well, Missus.” The man lifted his cap and rubbed his forehead with a dirty rag. “The garden kept growing and me and the wife have lots, so we thought of all you people facing a long, cold winter and no groceries. If we can trade for stuff, that’s good, but if not, at least we’ll feel we did our best.”
Tears filled Miriam’s eyes. “We’ll be back,” she promised.
Danny hoisted the box and they made their way home. Stan was waiting in the empty kitchen, wondering why there were cans and boxes strewn across the counter. When he heard the story, he opened the gun safe and removed two boxes of bullets.
When Danny came back from delivering them to the farmer he reported that the man was also willing to deliver eggs as long as his hens kept laying.
“He says he has lots,” the boy said. “He can only come once a month though, cause it's too far for the horses to make a regular trip. And of course, once it gets really cold it’ll be harder.”
“He’s a good man,” Miriam said, slicing pumpkin for soup. “I’ve never seen him before. I wonder where he came from?”
“I wonder if he noticed a group of kids hanging around.” Stan frowned. “We should have asked him. Is he still there, Danny?”
The boy shook his head. “He was just getting ready to leave. But if he brings eggs, we can ask him then.”
“Eggs.” Stan licked his lips. “Imagine.”
Miriam laughed. Suddenly the day seemed a little brighter.
Chapter 17 - Doyle’s Dilemma
Snowflakes drifted down from a gray sky, covering the woodpile and hiding the mountains from view. Stan raised the axe over his head and drove it into another log. Danny was busy piling the split wood into the wheelbarrow. Smoke drifted from the makeshift chimney sticking out of the boarded-up window.
“Do you think we have enough?” Danny pushed his hands into his armpits to warm them. “I’m cold.”
Stan kept chopping. Steam issued from his mouth with every breath. “I know it’s cold,” he replied. “That’s why we need lots of wood. That little heater burns it fast.”
He gave his son a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you go unload that pile and ask mom for something hot to drink? I’ll finish another few logs and come in too.”
Danny quickly disappeared into the house, leaving the wheelbarrow half full.
Stan was startled when Superintendent Doyle appeared beside him. “I didn’t hear you.” Stan took his woollen toque off and wiped his forehead. He couldn’t help but notice that the once burly officer was noticeably thinner. He even appeared shorter, hunched over with worry and responsibilities.
“You’d better come in,” Stan said. “You look like you could use something hot.”
Doyle shook his head. “Let’s stay here a minute.” He looked around as if he expected someone to jump out and grab him. His eyes darted back and forth, watching for some undefined danger.
Alarmed, Stan buried the axe head in the chopping block. “Is something wrong?” He turned around half expecting to see someone climbing over the fence or waving a gun at them.
Doyle handed him a tattered notebook. “I went and looked at the wrecked cars,” he said. “That’s a list of the owners. Can’t tell who was driving them though.” He shuddered. “I’ve seen lots of awful things in my career, but going through those cars after bodies had been in them all this time was one of the worst. Some of them had collided at top speed and been killed right away. Some were injured and had tried to go for help.” He took a deep breath. “Little kids, old people, all tossed around like toys.”
Stan looked down at his feet. “Any teenage girls in those cars?” Of course, Tara had disappeared long after the initial incident, but he had to ask.
“Hard to tell.” Doyle sat on the top step, heedless of the snow that had piled up in the few minutes since he had arrived. “It’s been over two weeks and I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see those empty eyes staring at me. If I do drop off, I have terrible dreams.” He looked up at Stan. “We don’t know when this will end, or what caused it. People come to me for support and answers and I’m useless. There have been another dozen suicides this week and God help me; I’m beginning to understand them.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Stan said gruffly. “Come in and have some tea. Miriam managed to scrounge some cookies. We have to eat them before they get stale.”
The policeman stayed seated. “I didn’t mean to unload on you, Stan. But there aren’t many left I can talk to. I need you to check the list in that book and see if there’s anybody you recognize or if there is anybody in town who should be contacted. I figured you know most of the townsfolk through the insurance business.”
“I’ll look at it.” Stan glanced at the notebook. The cover was faded and a few pages were sticking out. “But first, tea and cookies.”
It was dark by the time Doyle left, shrugging into his winter coat and pulling his hat down over his ears. Stan watched him go with a worried frown. He had assured Doyle that the town would be lost without him and he was helping by providing stability in a chaotic time.
He hoped it had been enough.
They had gone through the notebook together, with Stan circling the names he recognized. Some of the cars had out-of-province or even out-of-country registrations. It had been August when the disaster struck, the height of the tourist season. He hoped some of the travellers had been able to make it to safety. While he and Phil knew most of the population by name, they were often only a faceless form on the computer. Perhaps some of them were, even now, hunkered down in one of the town’s empty houses.
Miriam set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of him. Chunks of pumpkin floated in it along with the carrots and potatoes. They were eating by the light of a lone candle, and shadows leaped up the walls around them. A sheet blocked the kitchen from the rest of the house conserving heat. Two mattresses leaned against the wall; blankets folded on top of them.
“He has a heavy load,” Miriam said finally.
“Yes, he does.” Stan agreed. “We have to worry about ourselves, but he worries about the whole town.”
“We should worry about others too,” Miriam said sharply. “I see people wandering around when I go out. Some of them are obviously on the edge.” She sighed. “But we’ll be lucky to get through the winter ourselves, so I hesitate to be too charitable. I think I’ve knocked on every door in a two-mile radius and scavenged every kitchen and pantry I could. But of course, everybody is doing the same thing.”
Stan gazed into his bowl. He chased a carrot with his spoon and popped it into his mouth.
“Do you think people are still supplying the hospital like they said they would?” he asked.
Miriam sighed. “I hope so. The last time I was there two of the old people had died and the nurses looked exhausted.”
Stan looked across the table at Danny. “Maybe it’s time we went hunting.”
His son lifted his head. His eyes shone. “Really? Like for deer?”
“Or rabbits or grouse,” Stan answered. “All we have is a .22 and it’s not good for big game. But we could at least have some meat in our soup. And I could take something to the hospital.”
“Nummy,” Miriam said sarcastically. “I ate rabbit stew when I was a kid. I don’t remember it being my favourite.”
“It may become your favourite if there’s nothing else,” Stan answered. He stood up and stretched. “Come on, bedtime.”
“Already?” Danny whined. “It can’t be more than seven o’clock.”
“Nothing to stay up for,” his dad said gruffly. “We have to save the candles so it’s to bed with the sun. I’ll get up and stoke the fire at midnight. Danny, you do it at four. As soon as it's light tomorrow, we’ll head for the bush and see what we can find.”
Half an hour later, staring into the dark, Stan’s mind drifted to Superintendent Doyle. He hoped the cop didn’t succumb to his own despair. The people need him. After they came back from hunting tomorrow, he’d go over to the station and talk to him again.
Miriam reached over and patted his hand. They snuggled closer and sleep overcame them.
Chapter 18 – Consequences
Danny poked his head out from under the blankets and blinked. The kitchen came into focus through the pearly light of morning. He could see his breath. He shivered, then came fully awake. Beside him, his parents slept, wrapped together under a pile of blankets.
Quickly he scrambled to his feet. His dad was going to kill him. He had slept right through his alarm, and now the fire was out. It was only a few steps to the stove. He lifted the lid, half hoping for a miracle. Only ashes lay cold and dry in the firebox. He jumped from one foot to another on the frigid floor.
He turned and saw his dad’s eyes, wide open and staring at him. “You’d better put some socks on and get that fire going,” he said.
“Sorry, Dad.” Danny sat on the mattress and pulled his woollen socks on. “I’ll get it going right away.”
Stan made no move to get up.
In a few minutes, Danny had a small fire going. He piled chips of wood around it and watched as they flared into life. Carefully he opened the draught on the stove pipe, allowing more air to enter. When it looked like the fire was well underway, he grabbed a couple of smaller logs and piled them around it. As he did, he noticed there were only a few pieces of wood left beside the door. He had forgotten to bring in the wood from the wheelbarrow last night.
When the room had warmed up. Stan and Miriam crawled out from under the blankets. Neither said a word as Danny pulled on his boots and coat. The sun shone cheerfully through the kitchen window, the blanket of snow outside reflecting the light and adding to the brightness.
Danny stepped outside. Stan watched, smiling as the boy grabbed an armful of wood and dropped it on the step. Behind him, Miriam prepared to make their ration of coffee for the morning. The stove was bouncing now, throwing off heat in waves. Miriam closed the vents and put the tin coffee pot on top.
Danny came in, carrying a dozen pieces of wood in his arms. He dropped them in their allotted corner and prepared to fetch another load.
“You can wait,” Stan said. “Let’s have breakfast first and let the house warm up before opening the door again.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Danny hung his head and a lock of red hair fell over his face.
“I know,” Stan said. “But if we let the fire go out, all that food that your mom has collected will freeze, not to mention the water we’ve hauled from the town pump. It’s not a matter of saying sorry, it's survival, Son.”
A tear trickled down Danny’s cheek. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Miriam gave his shoulders a squeeze. “We were all tired, Danny. Now take your coat off and we’ll have some coffee and eggs. There are still a few left from the last delivery.”
“Are we still going hunting?” Danny asked in a small voice.
“I think so.” Stan looked inquiringly at his wife. “Is there anything pressing here, Hon?”
She smiled back. “Not as long as there is enough wood for the day. I think we have enough water ‘til tomorrow. It’s too cold for me to go out, so I’ll stay here and keep the home fire burning.”
By ten o’clock, Danny was following his dad’s footsteps into the woods. He had never before considered how close the wilderness was to their small town. His life had been home, school, and his friend’s homes, all within a fifteen-minute bike ride on paved roads and sidewalks. Now they were hiking across fields and through snow-covered trails. He ducked under the overhanging limb of a fir. Ahead of him, his Dad swore softly as a branch scraped across his face. Snow tumbled onto his head and shoulders and he shook it off.
“Okay, Son.” Stan stopped abruptly, and Danny almost bumped into him. “We have to be very quiet now.” He held up the .22 he carried. “This is loaded, so don’t get in front of me. If you see anything, just pull on my coat and point. Okay?”
Danny’s eyes were wide. “Okay.”
“Don’t look so scared.” Stan grinned. “Chances are we won’t see anything to shoot. All the bunnies are hiding. But before we go home, I’m going to set some snares.”
“You know how to set snares?” Once more, the boy’s eyes widened.
“My dad and I caught lots of rabbits when I was a boy,” Stan explained. “I hated it, and since we live in town, there was no need to teach you. But now things are different and our survival might depend on it.”
It felt like days instead of hours later that Stan finally turned toward home. True to his prediction they hadn’t spotted any game. He pulled a roll of wire out of his pack and every so often he stopped and fashioned a hoop which he attached to a bush or low lying branch. He scattered a handful of dry oatmeal around each snare. After setting ten traps the wire was used up.
“That’ll do it.” Stan led the way out of the bush. “We have to come back tomorrow and check these snares. I’ll give you a shooting lesson tomorrow too. Eventually, you might have to do this on your own.”
Danny didn’t answer. He was exhausted from a day of struggling th
rough the deep snow and climbing over deadfall. He could hardly wait to get home and have a hot chocolate. His stomach rumbled. Lunch had been a stale energy bar and its effects were long over.
When they finally stumbled through the back door, they found Miriam with her head on the table, sobbing into her crossed arms.
“What happened?” Without removing his boots, Stan hurried towards her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Miriam lifted a tear-stained face. “I was thinking of Tara. Where is she? It’s cold. Is she somewhere warm?”
Danny stood in the doorway. The pack he carried fell to the floor. A lump rose in his throat.
“Go get the rest of the wood before it gets dark, Danny.” Stan hugged his wife. “I know we are all worried, Hon. We just have to keep busy and as soon as I can I’ll start looking again.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. Her body shuddered. The door slammed behind their twelve-year-old son. Today, he suddenly felt much older.
Chapter 19 – In The Dark
The winter wore on; the calendar showed that Christmas had passed, but there was no tree. No coloured lights shone through the windows. The town remained dark and cold. Fewer people were seen moving in the empty streets. All the empty homes had been searched and everything useful or edible had been tucked away.
Stan and Danny checked their snares every day and if they were lucky enough to catch a rabbit or grouse it was quickly made part of a meal. They all grew thin and pale. Miriam spent her days huddled in front of the fire, stirring herself only to prepare meals. Sometimes when she was alone during the day she covered her ears and tried to drown out the sound of the wind rattling the windows of the otherwise silent house. At night she would wake up from a sound sleep, sure that she could hear Tara calling to her.
On those nights, Stan would wrap his arms around her as she cried. Danny would lie in the dark, trying to ignore his mom’s tears and his dad’s reassuring whispers. The shadow of Tara’s disappearance lay over the family like a black cloud.
The Incident | Book 3 | Winter of Darkness Page 7
