The Incident | Book 1 | They Called It The Incident

by Johnson, J. M.

  The two boys glanced at each other. Both were eager to leave the farmhouse for an excursion. With eight adults and one baby, plus a dog that masqueraded as a rug, they were starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.

  “Can we both go?” Tom asked.

  “No.” Sam was firm. “The horse can only carry two of us, and even that’s not ideal for a long distance.”

  “How about drawing cards?” asked Irma. “High card goes, low card stays here and chops wood.”

  She reached for the deck of cards which were conveniently kept on the coffee table, next to the crib board. Expertly she began to shuffle the deck while the boys moved closer.

  When she had finished shuffling, she fanned the cards and held them out. “Okay, draw, but don’t show your card until you both have one.”

  Nervously Tom and Adnan reached out and drew two cards from the deck. They flipped them over at the same moment and Tom whooped with glee.

  “Ten! I get to go!”

  Gloomily Adnan looked at his two of clubs.

  “Well,” Monica consoled the disappointed boy. “Just think of him eating a cold sandwich, while you have a hot meal in a nice warm house.”

  Only Stella noticed the sigh of relief from her husband. For a moment their eyes met, and then she lowered her head submissively.

  The next day dawned bright and clear. Once again, the thermometer hanging outside the kitchen window registered minus 10C.

  The two envoys were up and out by the time the rest of the family made their way to the living room. The fire crackled merrily and the smell of coffee permeated the house.

  As she poured the coffee, Irma said, “Enjoy this. It’s the last of the coffee and I’ve already used the grounds three times.”

  Tony took a sip and grimaced. “Not much taste left.” He sipped the hot drink again. “But at least it’s hot and the smell makes you think it’s a normal day.”

  “What’s normal anymore?” Irma sat beside him at the table. Then changing the subject; “I hope Sam and Tom are okay. I gave them some jam sandwiches to take with them. And that’s the last of the bread.”

  “Did you send a thermos?”

  “Of course. It has the same watery brew we’re enjoying, in it. I’m sure after a couple of hours on a horse, it’ll taste much better.”

  They were soon all gathered around the table, the baby in his customary place between his parents.

  Monica spooned cereal into his waiting mouth while the adults all watched fondly. Adnan yawned widely and reached for a piece of bread, then hesitated as he noticed nobody else was eating.

  “Go ahead, Dear.” Irma pushed the plate closer to him. “You’re a growing boy, and you have a strenuous day ahead of you.”

  He didn’t wait to be asked twice and began to slather the homemade raspberry jam on a large slice.

  “Are we going to chop wood?” he asked.

  “Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Monica spoke automatically, then grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I can’t help being a mom.”

  “It’s okay…you’re right.” He smiled back.

  “And yes, we are going to cut wood. It’s a never-ending job if we want to keep warm.” She turned to her mother-in-law. “Do you mind watching the baby, Mom? I need to get some exercise or I’m going to go crazy.”

  “Of course.” She looked at Stella who hadn’t said a word so far this morning. “We’ll be able to handle one small baby, won’t we, Stella?”

  A tear slipped from the other woman’s faded eyes, but she didn’t answer.

  “They’ll be fine!” Tony reached across the table and patted her hand. “You’ll see; they’ll be back before we know it with some kind of news.”

  “You don’t know that”, she whispered. “Who knows what those hooligans over at our house will do if they catch them?” She stood up. “And it’s so cold. Why didn’t the young guys go instead of sending poor S..s..Sam out in the freezing cold?”

  “I’m going back to bed,” she continued. “It’s warm there and I need to be alone.”

  The rest of them looked after her with dismay.

  “Don’t go to bed,” Irma called softly. “I think we are nearly out of propane and I want to cook up the rest of the vegetables before the stove quits. You can help me.”

  “No, no, you look after your family.” She disappeared up the narrow staircase.

  “She’ll be okay.” Jason spoke up, “It had to be Sam to go. He knows his horses and plus he volunteered.”

  “And now”, he stood up decisively. “Let’s go and get some wood before this fire goes out. From what Mom says, we may be cooking on it before too long.”

  Tony stood too and called to the old dog who was dozing under the heater. “C’mon Rufus, you need some exercise too.”

  When Irma had been left alone, she carried little Jack into the kitchen and put him in the old playpen she had liberated from the attic. The bottom was thickly lined with blankets to protect it from the unheated floor.

  Glumly she opened the pantry and began to remove the carrots and potatoes from their bins. She hoped there was enough propane left to cook them. There were more in the root cellar that Jason had dug in the fall, but unless things changed, they might be eating them raw. She surveyed the few cans left on the shelves.

  “Best eat them up before they freeze,” she thought to herself and placed them on the counter too. There was a bit of meat still frozen in the garage, so she could cook it all and have a stew. Then the whole pot could go into the garage where it would freeze solid.

  Her spirits began to lift and she hummed a little tune. Behind her, Jack laughed at his own private joke, and she smiled.

  “It’s not so bad,” she thought. “We’ll have a nice stew. No more flour so no bread anymore, but I think there’s some rice left. And there’s cereal for the baby. No milk, of course, but we can survive a while longer”

  With her arms full, she turned and let out a scream as she nearly bumped into a stranger. The cans dropped from her hands and rolled across the old linoleum.

  “Don’t scream, Lady.” One of his large hands pointed a pistol at her. Her eyes darted towards the baby who was watching in fascination.

  “Okay. What do you want?”

  “Food. And I see you have lots of it here.”

  “No, no, I don’t.” she watched his lips move in the tangled beard. His eyes were steady and focussed on her. “there really isn’t much food left,” she continued her voice shaking. “We have six men to feed and this is the last of it.”

  “Well, now you only have one man to feed….me!” He waved the gun in her direction. “I watched everybody leave so I know you’re alone here.” He glanced towards the playpen. “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I haven’t eaten for a few days and here you are all warm and fed. It’s not fair!”

  “I’ll be happy to feed you,” Irma made her voice soft and she hoped, soothing. “Just put the gun away. You don’t need to threaten me. There’s some coffee left in the pot and I can give you some canned fruit while the vegetables cook.”

  “Just...” her voice rose…” put the gun away. You’re scaring the baby.”

  “I’m not interested in fruit and coffee”, he growled. “I’m taking it all. I don’t know what’s happening in the world right now, but I want to be prepared for the worst.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Irma saw movement in the dark stairwell behind the intruder. Stella must have heard the crash when the cans fell on the floor.

  She moved a little closer to the baby and the man turned his head. Good, he wasn’t looking towards the stairs at all. The gun became her sole focus and she kept her eyes riveted on it. She didn’t see the guitar until it crashed down on the intruder’s head.

  He fell heavily to the floor and the gun dropped from his hand.

  Stella moved into the room and gave it a kick so it spun across the linoleum and lodged against the playpen.

  “Oh my God!” Irma grabbed the gun and with shaking han
ds aimed it in the direction of the bearded man.

  “Quick let's tie him up with something.” Stella’s urgent voice seemed to come from far away. “He might wake up in a minute.”

  The two elderly women looked around desperately. What did they have to tie up an angry and very big man?

  “Toaster cord.” Irma grabbed the toaster and quickly cut off the cord with the knife that she used for chopping vegetables. They grabbed the man’s arms and pulled them together behind his back.

  “What about his feet?”

  “Quick, get the cord off the kettle.” Irma handed the knife to her friend.

  When he was safely trussed up, the two women grinned at each other. “Stella, you were like the avenging angel there”, Irma said. “But I don’t think Jason is going to be playing that guitar any time soon.”

  “Yes, it’s a good thing he left it beside the stairs.” Stella sat on a kitchen chair and wiped her forehead with a shaky hand. “I couldn’t believe it when I came down and saw you being held at gunpoint. All I could think of was some movie I saw where the heroine saved the day by knocking some guy out with a poker. But the guitar was all I could reach.”

  “Well, it worked.”

  At their feet, the man groaned.

  A trickle of blood from his forehead was staining the floor. Irma moved back in case he could escape. They weren’t the most expert of knot tiers and she had no idea if the cords would hold him if he struggled hard enough.

  Now that he was helpless, he didn’t look quite so fearsome. It was the beard, she decided, but all the men had beards. It was too hard to shave in cold water and besides, they said it helped keep their faces warm. She also noted how thin he was under his bulky clothing.

  She still held the pistol in her lap and absently she thumbed the magazine. It dropped open and to her surprise, there were no bullets in it.

  Irma’s fear began to be replaced by pity. His groans had subsided so she gave him a nudge with her foot and said “what were you thinking coming in here and threatening an old lady and a baby with a gun?”

  Stella smiled. Irma thought she sounded fierce, but nobody would mistake the softness in her voice for anything other than motherly concern.

  He groaned again. “I’m sorry, lady. What did you hit me with anyway?”

  “I didn’t hit you. My friend hit you with a guitar. Another old lady I might add and my son is going to be really upset over his guitar. He’s had it since he was eight years old.”

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned again. “Can I get up now?”

  “No!” the women spoke simultaneously

  “Not until you answer my question. Why were you here threatening us?”

  “You don’t know how it is out there.” He answered. “I left my wife and son yesterday. They just couldn’t walk anymore. There’s no food left in the city, and no heat in our apartment. Everybody is just running wild, trying to survive.”

  He took a deep breath. “I just wanted some food to take back to them.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just ask?” Irma asked indignantly. “We don’t have much, but we wouldn’t leave anyone to starve.”

  She bent over. “Okay, I’ll let you up, and we’ll fix that cut on your head.”

  “No bullets in here.” She laid the pistol on the table. “but I do have a loaded shotgun.” She nodded towards the corner and Stella, taking her cue, grabbed the shotgun and pointed it at the intruder.

  “Are you sure?” Stella asked. “He could still try to hurt us and steal everything.”

  “Let him try.” Irma began loosening the cords around his wrists.

  “He’s not going to hurt us, is he?” and she glared at her prisoner.

  He stood up and sheepishly shook his head. Under the bushy beard and unkempt hair, his lips curled in a smile and blue eyes twinkled. “Brought down by a couple of grannies and a baby!” He shook his head again. “No, you’re safe from me.”

  “Okay. Our water still runs even if it’s cold, so go and wash that cut off at the sink. I’ll find some peroxide to clean it with and get you something to eat. Then we’ll see what we can do about your family.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  When the wood cutters returned, they were surprised to find a bushy haired man sitting at the kitchen counter slurping soup. Irma bustled around the room, slicing vegetables and putting them into a large, simmering pot. Stella held Jack on her lap, spooning mashed carrots into his mouth, and smiling at the man.

  Jason glared at him suspiciously as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook. “Who’s he?”

  The others crowded in behind him.

  “Is that our last can of soup?” demanded Monica. “The one we were saving for Jack?”

  “Yes,” Irma answered her. “And we need to get some more carrots from the root cellar too”.

  “Oh, come in and sit down.” The others were still clustered in the doorway, watching their new guest.

  “This is George, and he needs help.” She decided to keep the story of how he had asked, for later.

  Tony rubbed his hands and came over to hug his wife. “Well, we never turned anyone away who needed help, did we?”

  “What’s your story, young man?”

  George nervously pushed the empty bowl away. “Thank you, ma’am.” He said. He turned towards the older man.

  “It’s my wife,” he said. “I left her in an abandoned house about two hours walk from here. We left our apartment in the city to look for food, but she got so tired she just couldn’t continue. Your wife,” and he nodded towards Irma, “was kind enough to give me some soup, but I have to go back to Melanie and my son right away.”

  “We’ll have some lunch and then we’ll go get her,” Jason assured him. “Can she walk do you think or will we need to carry her?”

  “Go in the living room,” Irma waved her hands dismissively. “I can’t think with all of you in here. Plus, the fire needs building up. Sorry, the last of the coffee went this morning, but I think there should be hot water on top of the heater to warm yourselves up.”

  When the room had cleared of everybody except herself and Stella, she muttered, “I don’t know what to give them for lunch. The bread is all gone and I can’t bake more without propane. The stew isn’t done yet, and they need something hot.”

  “They’ll have to settle for hot water to drink.” Stella came over and put her arm around her friend. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch this morning. I’m just so worried about Sam and that boy. Do you think they are okay?”

  “They’ll be fine”. Irma patted her hand. “I wonder if I should try making pancakes with the last of the flour?”

  “I don’t think so. What if the stove quits before you finish cooking them? Then you will have used all the flour for nothing.” Stella opened the pantry door as if hoping that something had magically appeared on the empty shelves.

  “My mom used to say, anyone can cook with food,” Stella continued. “It’s a real art to feed people without it.”

  Irma laughed.

  “Well, your mom was right. Do you see anything in there?”

  “An old can of cocoa. Do we have any sugar left?”

  “Maybe half a cup. Okay, cocoa to drink, that’ll help a bit. Then they will have to wait for the vegetables to cook. We need to send something to George’s wife and son too, so they have enough strength to get back here.”

  Just then the flame on the old range gave one last flare and went out. The two women looked at each other with dismay.

  “Well, that just doubled the time it will take to cook anything.” Irma huffed. “I hated cooking on a wood stove when I was young, and I don’t suppose it has improved with time.”

  “Let’s just spoon the stew into a smaller pot,” Stella suggested. “We’ll just cook enough for now and the rest can sit on the heater and simmer.”

  Soon they were sitting at the table with the rest of the family, all nursing cups of watery cocoa. The stew simmered on the wood stove, filling the roo
m with delicious smells that only added to their hunger.

  George said apologetically, “I’m sorry I ate your last can of soup. I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Irma patted his hand. “How could you? Don’t worry we’ll be okay. Now, what did you decide about George’s wife?” She addressed the table at large.

  “Adnan and I are going with George to get her and bring her back here,” Jason answered. “Hopefully she can walk, but with three of us, we’ll be able to carry her if necessary”

  “We’ll send a thermos of hot cocoa and some stew with you.” Stella piped up.

  “You’ll need to go soon,” Tony said. “It’s already mid-afternoon and the sun goes down at four.”

  “Maybe you should wait until morning?” Monica added her voice. “Sam and Tom should be back tonight with the horse and you can ride over. That’ll be quicker in the long run.”

  They all looked at George.

  “I hate to leave her alone another night.” He spoke slowly. “Why don’t I go alone and bring them back tomorrow?”

  “And what if she’s can’t walk another ten miles?” Jason stood up. “No, I think we should all go. I know if it was my wife and son, I’d be sick until I knew they were okay. We can camp overnight and come back in the morning if we have to.”

  “Is that stew ready, Mom?” he asked. “I’m anxious to get on the way now.”

  “It might be a bit underdone” his mother answered. “But let’s try a bit.”

  When the men had left for their long walk through the snow, the old people sat and looked at each other across the table. Monica had gone upstairs to change and left the baby sleeping in his playpen.

  “I don’t know if that was a good idea,” Tony said slowly. “We didn’t really know if that guy was telling the truth.”

  The women glanced at each other.

  “Okay, what’s up?” asked Tony “You both look like you have a secret.”

  Just then Monica came into the room carrying the broken guitar. “What happened to Jason’s guitar?” She held it up and poked her hand through a hole in the frame.

  “Well…” Stella began.