Odd Billy Todd

by N. C. Reed

  “Yeah,” Pete said. “When you don’t know what’s happening, you don’t feel like you got any control. That’s important to me. I bet it is to you, too. Ain’t it?”

  “Got to be in control,” Billy nodded jerkily. “Gotta be aware and calm. All the time. When ya ain’t, ya make mistakes. Mistakes ain’t no good. When you’re calm, you don’t make no mistakes.”

  “Well, I do,” Pete admitted. “Sometimes I just do the wrong thing. But when I realize it, I just try to go back and fix it. About all I can do, most times.”

  “Fix it?” Billy was still struggling, but Pete was relieved to see that he was listening. And thinking.

  “Yeah. You know, go back and correct whatever mistake you made,” Pete nodded. “Make it right.”

  “Go back and fix it,” Billy repeated, as if memorizing it. “Never. . .I ain’t ever thought about that. Always just tried not to make’em in the first place.”

  “Well, that’s the best policy,” Pete agreed. “Just don’t always work.”

  “Sometimes you can’t,” Billy said quietly. He looked calmer now, Pete was glad to see. “Sometimes, you git it wrong, and that’s it. Done.”

  “All too true I’m afraid,” Pete nodded, sighing. “Billy. Everyone makes mistakes. You ain’t alone in that, you know. Ain’t none of us perfect in no sense of the word.”

  “Guess that’s true,” Billy nodded in agreement. “It’s just. . .I make. . .I have to concentrate. If I don’t, I lose my way, sometimes. I get caught up in a circle, and I can’t git out of it.”

  “Start thinking about one thing, and it leads to another,” Pete nodded. Billy looked at him again.

  “You do know what I mean, don’t you?” he asked. Pete nodded.

  “Yeah, ‘fraid so,” he sighed again. “I spent a lotta time as a scout. Observer, tracker, that kinda thing. Lot’s o’ time alone, having to be real quiet like. Leaves you with not much but your mind, roamin’ all over the place. You think about something, and after a while, that makes you think o’ something else. Pretty soon you’re thinking on a thing, and you can’t even remember how you got there. I have to back track to see how I wound up where I’m at.”

  Billy’s eyes widened a bit at that.

  “Same thing happens to you, I guess,” Pete took a chance. “Don’t make you weak, or stupid, Billy. Just makes you like others. Human, I guess. We all do it, one way or another.”

  “I always. . .I guess I just always figured it was cause I ain’t. . .cause I got problems,” Billy managed. “That it was just part o’ my. . .part o’ what made me like I am.”

  “How are you, Billy?” Pete asked.

  “I’m. . .I’m slow, I guess,” Billy seemed hesitant. “I ain’t. . .I can’t think on things like most seem to. Have to write stuff down. I need a plan, and when I get one, I stick to it. If I ain’t got a plan, then I make mistakes. Dumb’uns, that cost me time, and sometimes more. I can’t. . .I can’t always focus just right. Havin’ a plan helps me to focus. Stay calm. Not. . .not get rattled, I guess. Good as any way to describe it I reckon.”

  “We all get rattled sometimes,” Pete shrugged. “Overwhelmed. Sounds like you got a good way to deal with it, though. Your folk’s teach you?”

  “Yeah,” Billy nodded, looking at the ground around him, as if looking back in time. “They helped me learn.”

  “My grandfather did that for me,” Pete told him. “Taught me the ‘old ways’ as he called’em. Said it was things our people had learned the hard way. Things that would work when the white man’s magic had died. Looks like he was more right than he knew,” he chuckled.

  “Reckon so,” Billy nodded.

  “You okay, now?” Pete asked. Billy nodded.

  “Reckon I am,” he replied. He looked at Pete. “Thanks, Pete. I. . .I usually ain’t so bad, these days.”

  “Just a shock to the system, that’s all,” Pete shrugged.

  “Guess so,” Billy nodded.

  “Ready to go back inside?”

  “I am,” Billy nodded again.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  The new year entered with a both a bang and a whimper. Most of the adults who had attended the party were slow to wake, and woke to painful reminders of having imbibed a bit too much, or delayed going to bed too long.

  Billy hadn’t had anything to drink, but his ‘episode’ had left him restless, and he hadn’t slept well. Nonetheless, he was up early. Chores had to be done. He found Danny waiting, as usual, and the two had spent most of the morning completing their chores, and doing a few odd jobs that had been put off too long.

  About ten that morning, Billy had stopped for a moment, and was looking into the distance. Danny followed his gaze, squinting a bit. Finally he asked.

  “What is it?”

  “I think we’re gonna to get some snow,” Billy told him, sniffing the air.

  “How do you. . .what do you smell?” Danny asked.

  “Air smells wet,” Billy told him. Danny sniffed hesitantly at the wind, his eyes widening.

  “Wow. I never noticed that.”

  “That’s cause it ain’t been there long,” Billy nodded. “Check ‘at thermometer over there. I’d say the temperature done dropped five degrees in the last hour or so.” Danny dutifully obeyed, and nodded as he read the mercury.

  “You’re right, at least ‘bout the temperature,” he reported. “Was about forty when we came out. Now it’s thirty-five.”

  “Okay,” Billy replied, blowing his breath out in a long, thoughtful moment. “We got work to do. Saddle your horse, and start makin’ the rounds. Let ever’ one know we probably got weather incomin’.”

  “What else?” Danny asked.

  “Check the fences on your way out,” Billy told him. “It’ll save time.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Billy started finishing their work, already thinking about what he’d need to do to ready the farm for what he was sure would be a rough storm.

  *****

  It started about four. The wind had been steadily increasing for the last hour. The home weather station that Billy watched indicated that the wind was up to twenty-eight miles an hour, with gusts to near forty. The temperature had already dropped to twenty-six degrees.

  Danny had made the rounds as quickly as he could, and then returned to help secure the farm. They were as ready as possible.

  Billy watched as the snow began to fall.

  *****

  The storm raged for four days. Snow, ice, even thunder at one point, which had been nerve wracking. Billy had heard tell of such things, but never encountered them.

  The temperature had dropped to near zero at times, and the wind had held steady at forty-five miles per hour for a long time. Gusts had been even higher, with one hitting sixty-one mph for nearly a full minute. Billy heard more than one tree hit the ground in the woods surrounding the farm. He hoped there was no damage around the area.

  The Todd’s spent the time indoors in various ways. Video games, card and board games, movies with popcorn, reading. There were plenty of diversions.

  But everyone would eventually turn back to the windows. Looking outside. Trees bent, snow flew, ice coated. This was a real blizzard. The storm in November was starting to look like a flurry.

  Billy and Danny had used their time wisely, making sure that sufficient food and water were available to all the animals. Billy hadn’t wanted to venture out into the weather more than necessary. They had run ropes to the barn, the pig lot, and the feed shed in the pasture just in case. With the wind blowing so hard, it would be easy to get lost in the snow.

  On the third day, the two of them had made use of the ropes to check everything during a small respite. All the animals were okay, though the horses were restless. They spent a little time calming the horses down, rubbing them down, and giving them treats before heading back to the house. By the time they returned to the house, the wind was picking up again and the snow was falling heavier.

  At night the win
d literally howled. With the night so dark the howling wind added to the feeling of isolation that people all over the valley felt. Blankets were pulled tighter to ward off chills that weren’t entirely caused by falling temperatures. Startled eyes would turn to the windows whenever an especially strong gust of wind would hit, rattling the windows, and sometimes even the doors. The crash of trees overburdened by the weight of snow and ice falling in the dark hours likewise drew wary glances, and caused more than one person to flinch, or look at their roof.

  Even Jerry couldn’t remember a worse storm. He watched from his bedroom window, then from his den as the snow piled higher and higher. He and Toby had taken the same precautions as Billy had, but he worried none the less.

  When the storm finally blew itself out, there was none of the usual after effects, such as clear skies and calm winds. The sky remained dark and grey, clouds hanging low, and seeming to threaten still more falling weather at any time. The wind, while no longer a gale, was still strong, and gusty.

  Billy and Danny ventured out at once on the first morning, ignoring the wind and cold as much as they could, to do their chores. Water that had turned to ice was broken, and fresh water pumped into troughs. The horses were released into the corral to work off excess energy. The two of them used the Ranger’s fixed blade to plow walkways to the barn, pasture an pig lot, then on through the woods to the Silvers’ homestead. They met Toby, plowing in their direction with his four-wheeler.

  “Cold out!” Toby shouted.

  “Sure is,” Billy nodded. “Ya’ll okay?”

  “Reckon so,” Toby nodded. “Tree’s are down all over, but ain’t none hit nothin’ here. You been out?”

  “Just here,” Billy shook his head. “Ya’ll heard from ever body?”

  “Pa talked to ever one on the radio. No damage to any houses. Ralph says we lost two calves, but that’s all. Reckon that’s not bad, considerin’.”

  “Him and the others manage okay with the big herd?” Billy asked.

  “Yeah. Pa told’em they needed any help, to call.” Billy nodded at that. “Pa reckon’s we’ll get more o’ the same, soon,” the teen added, looking at the sky.

  “I figure that too,” Billy agreed. “Reckon we better get back at it.”

  “See ya!” Toby waved as he turned for home.

  “Reckon we better see to gettin’ some wood up, and then collect the horses,” Billy said, as Danny turned the Ranger around. “I don’t think this is over.”

  *****

  It wasn’t.

  Snow began falling again just at dark that evening. No one had been idle. Rhonda and Mary had seen to the chickens, and collected the few eggs. They also swept away the snow that had accumulated on the front porch, and shoveled away the snow that had blown under the awning at the rear of the house.

  Danny and Billy had set two heaters up in the attic to help remove the snow from the roof, and the resulting runoff had formed large icicles all along the roof edge. Breaking them off had proved challenging, but no one wanted the razor sharp or needle point ice spears falling on them.

  Rhonda had made a hearty beef stew with fresh bread, and they were about to sit down to dinner when the snow started again. Large, heavy, wet flakes were soon falling so thick and so fast that visibility fell quickly to almost nothing. Billy looked out the kitchen window as he enjoyed the hot chocolate Rhonda had made.

  “How much more, do you think?” Rhonda asked softly, coming to his side.

  “No way o’ knowin’,” Billy admitted. “Ain’t no weather reports no more, so all we got is what we can see.”

  “Will we be okay, Billy?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Billy nodded firmly. “We’re in good shape. All of us is. Be rough gettin’ through, was somethin’ to happen, but we’re good. Just have to wait it out.”

  "Why is it so bad?" she asked.

  "Ain't many people left," he shrugged. "No more cars runnin', no more heat from exhaust, from factories, from. . .nothin'. Ain't too much to keep the cold at bay. Things is back like they used to be. I imagine this here is what we can expect for winter from here on, most like."

  She took his hand, and they watched together for time, until supper time.

  Meanwhile, it snowed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  For three long months, the snow would come and go. Winter was one long blizzard it seemed, with short periods where the temperature would be milder, sometimes even into the fifties.

  But those short periods never lasted. Three days, five, once an entire week. But always the milder, drier weather gave way to more freezing temperatures, and more snow. Much more.

  The short periods of thaw were used to work around the farms. There was no visiting, no socializing. Time was too precious to waste. The group had lost cattle, pigs, and even three older horses to the cold, wet weather. The losses were bearable, but they were losses.

  Hay was used much faster than anticipated. There was no grass, anywhere, that remained viable. Most of the times it was simply unreachable. The decision was made in early February to cut back on haying, to ensure that there was enough to get the herd through. The cattle would lose weight, but they would regain it once spring and the grass returned. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would work.

  During the days, and sometimes weeks of snow and bitter cold, plans were made. Each house was determined to be better prepared for the next winter. A year ago, this would have made everyone laugh, to be worrying over next winter while in the middle of a blizzard. Not anymore.

  Everyone was realizing that the non-winter months would now become a race to prepare for the the coming winter. Nothing else would matter. Crops would have to be put in, and harvested. They would need much more hay for the cattle. And at least one new hay barn.

  Roof structures would have to be checked, and any with signs of weakness repaired or strengthened. The weight of two or three feet of snow could collapse a roof. The homes were all sturdily built, but neither their designers nor their builders had ever anticipated this kind of weather. Adjustments were planned for spring time.

  Horses in their barns stomped and kicked, built up energy making them restless. They were allowed to run during the brief thaws, possibly all that kept them sane and manageable. Barely.

  Every single thing they could squeeze into the thaws was done. If there was thirty minutes left, they were used for something. For some, the need to simply get out of the house was often overwhelming. For others, the need to get work done was the main factor. For all, the winter was wearing.

  Day after day of heavy gray clouds. Driving snow and sleet. Drizzling freezing rain. The sound of trees falling around them became common place, as those over whelmed by ice finally gave in to gravity.

  There would be plenty of downed trees to cut for firewood come spring time.

  Billy figured there would also be a lack of wild game. In these conditions, game animals would be hard pressed to survive. Many would leave, he figured, moving further south in hopes of finding better ground. Perhaps they would return with the spring.

  Perhaps not. He didn’t know. No one else did either, he guessed.

  He had never seen a winter this savage. Knowing it was possible, even expecting it, had not prepared him to see it. There were days when he looked outside that he wondered about his sanity. Everywhere you looked, there was nothing but white.

  The others weren’t dealing with it any better. Many refused to look outside anymore. They ignored the white. They read, they wrote, they slept. They worked on indoor projects. They dressed in sweats, and covered themselves with blankets to accommodate the colder temperatures. Fires and furnaces were kept low, to preserve fuel.

  Mealtimes were boring. There were only so many ways to prepare the same foods. There was no where to ‘eat-out’ anymore. There were no social gatherings. No cook-outs, no ‘visiting’. Movement was difficult when the snow was upon them. When it wasn’t, no time could be wasted ‘socializing’.

  The radio
told a sad tale of it’s own, as signal after signal stopped transmitting. People they had heard on the HAM frequencies since civilization had died went silent. More and more isolated, everyone began to draw more into themselves.

  It was a harsh and rugged world they now lived in. One where a simple mistake could lead to death. No more hospitals. No more doctor’s clinics. No EMS ambulances. Nothing.

  For the first time, the residents of the farm community realized they were well and truly on their own. There was no one else. No one to come riding to the rescue if something happened. No one to lean on, depend upon, but themselves.

  Not one of them had ever considered the mental issues that this realization could cause. It hadn’t seemed important. They had survived, and would continue to do so. That should be all there was to it.

  But it wasn’t. Week after week of continued confinement, worry, and fear increased stress levels to the breaking point. Nerves were in tatters from the forced isolation. Tempers flared and snapped. Even couples tended to drift apart, looking to isolate themselves from one another. Books were read, read again, then traded to others for still more books that had already been read.

  Video games that had initially occupied the attention of children became boring, and then disgusting. Movies that had been seen five times over and were once favorites became hated. Music that once had soothed the soul now jarred already fractured nerves.

  It seemed there was no end in sight. Many bundled up and ventured outside just to relieve the boredom, only to be driven inside within minutes by biting winds and wet clothing.

  By March, it would have been difficult to find anyone who wasn’t near the end of their rope.

  But some had used the time to prepare for things other than the next crop. The next need.

  And they were just as ready for the thaw as anyone else.