The Pandemic Diaries [Books 1-3]

by Callahan, K. W.

  Thursday, August 14 th

  8:49 p.m.

  I haven’t written since Tuesday because my mind has been in too much turmoil. The trial hasn’t been going well and I’ve just been too emotionally sapped to try to formulate into words what has been going on until now.

  The jury is deliberating and we’re expecting a decision by tomorrow morning, so I figure I’d better try to catch up before then.

  As I said, the trial hasn’t exactly been going in Dylan’s favor. Every little bit of dirt seems to have been dredged up against us. I just don’t understand why Gerald isn’t making more of an effort on our behalf. When Barker was on the stand, the BB gun incident with Erika and Travis was discussed, and the fact that Chase has had a romantic history with Erika was mentioned as well. It’s as though they’re trying to say we had a reason to dislike Reggie due to his relationship with Erika.

  And while certain journal entries have helped me, others have hurt me. Gerald read the portions of my diary relating to Barker’s previous attempt to kiss me at the store (which of course he denied). But then there were entries in there about me “wishing Barker was dead” and how messed up I think Erika and Reggie are, which certainly didn’t help our case or our standing with the jury.

  Then there was the fact that Barker is a fantastic liar, while Dylan told the absolute truth. Dylan admitted that he didn’t know exactly what was happening in that bedroom when he entered other than, “Two men were on top of Momma, and she was screaming, moaning, and wiggling around on the bed.”

  Barker just leered at me when he heard that portion of testimony. When he was recalled to the stand to dispute any part of Dylan’s recollection of the event, he said that the kid had recounted it perfectly. Dylan DIDN’T know what was going on, and yes, I WAS “screaming, moaning, and wiggling around on the bed,” not because I was being restrained, but because I was enjoying them doing the deed so much.

  It’s lucky we aren’t allowed to bring firearms into the courtroom with us. If we were, I might have finished what Dylan started right there. But I guess now I’d better be careful what I write in here. They’ll probably use it against us. Now I know how the woman of Salem felt regarding the persecution they endured during the witch trials – powerless, helpless, hopeless, their words manipulated and everything said in their defense taken, twisted, and used against them.

  While Dylan told the jury that, “It looked like the men were hurting Momma,” Barker easily refuted this, saying that, “The boy is just too young to understand what was REALLY going on.”

  The worst thing about all this is that only a majority of the jury (just five people) has to find Dylan guilty. With nine jurors, this leaves no room for a hung jury – it will be “innocent” or “guilty”.

  God only knows what verdict the jury is currently leaning toward. I can only pray that the good citizens of Spencer are able to sway the vote in our favor. But we’re the outsiders here, and we were the outsiders in Spencer not so long ago – the odd arrivals from the big city.

  I hate to think what damage Erika is doing. She can be VERY manipulative and VERY persuasive when she wants to be. And I have a feeling that considering I’ve stolen what she considered her man (Chase), and my son has killed her other man (Reggie), she’s holding nothing back.

  God, I don’t know what I’m going to do if they come back with a guilty verdict. They couldn’t…could they? I mean, how could anyone in their right mind find a boy like Dylan guilty of murder?

  In the old days, it wouldn’t even have been a possibility. He would never have been tried as an adult. But now, in this crazy world of ours, there’s no differentiating between adults and children. We’re all treated the same in this insanity in which we live. Gerald says we can’t treat kids any different; it’s just not possible. If Dylan is indeed guilty of murder and they just let him go without punishment, it would set a terrible precedent and there would likely be reprisals for his actions. Thus, it’s necessary to try him as an adult with an adult-sized punishment…death. I can’t believe they’re even considering it, but Gerald said, what are they supposed to do, send him to jail? Our tiny community has neither the time nor resources necessary to keep an unproductive mouth to feed around for years or even decades. It’s either execute him as a murderer or he goes free as an innocent man…boy.

  If I had known it would come to this, I would have taken Dylan straight from the water house after the incident, left Glasgow, and never looked back. I don’t care how hard it would be on our own, it would be worth it. I’d rather take our chances out there alone than have Dylan’s fate decided like this. At least out there, I could have some sort of control. Here, I’m just stuck waiting and wondering. It’s terrible, and I can’t stand it. And as much as I want to know what the verdict is, at the same time, I don’t want to know. I want this all to be over with, but only if the outcome is a positive one for Dylan. And then what? Will we have to live here constantly looking over our shoulders, wondering if Erika or Barker or some other nut job like Barker’s son Craig is going to retaliate for what happened…or for what they THINK happened?

  I guess I’ll worry about that after the trial. For now, I just have to focus on keeping Dylan’s head up and praying that we get the decision we need.

  Friday, August 15 th

  7:56 a.m.

  It’s a blazing-hot morning…as usual. I hardly slept at all last night. I dozed off for maybe an hour or so, but mostly I just lay in my bed sweating and thinking. My thoughts were mostly of poor Dylan, locked alone in a stuffy jail cell, all because he was trying to help me…DID help me.

  I guess the only positive in this whole situation is that I still don’t think he really understands how serious this all is. He feels terrible about what he’s done, but he’s steadfast in his belief that those men were trying to hurt me and that he did nothing wrong in trying to protect me. And he’s right…if only the jurors see it that way. But Barker is a truly gifted and persuasive liar, and I’m afraid he has convinced these people that he’s done nothing wrong. I have a bad feeling that while the jurors might think Dylan truly believes that he was acting to protect me, there is no way to know what ACTUALLY happened at the water house that day. I’m afraid they’ll view Dylan’s actions as extreme, thinking that he should have fired a warning shot or gone for assistance…not that either decision would have helped. In fact, they probably would only have made the situation worse, as it would have given Barker and Reggie the opportunity to get their hands on Dylan and then continue their assault on me. Who knows, in their drug-induced stupor, they might have tried to assault Dylan too!

  The jury is still in deliberations, and the waiting is driving me crazy. Added to this nerve-racking ordeal, I saw Chase talking to Erika before court this morning. All of a sudden, he’s seemed very distant toward me. He didn’t come home last night and I have no idea where he was or what he was doing. I don’t want to ask because I’m afraid of the answer I’ll get. I guess I’ll just let it go for now and hope he’s still on our side in all this. I pray he’s not getting cold feet now that he knows I’m pregnant and now that Erika is back on the market. That’d be great. Just another straw on the camel’s back. I can only take so much, and I feel like I’m already at the breaking point.

  1:04 p.m.

  We’re on lunch break. I’ve been given a pass from work this week. I ate half a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. It’s about all I could stomach. And I ate alone since Chase ate with Erika.

  What in the hell is up with THAT!? Are they getting back together now? Maybe he’s not that man I thought he was. Maybe he IS a better match for Erika than for me. If this is the type of loyalty he exhibits – heading for greener pastures as soon as the going gets tough – I don’t want him around anyway.

  I feel so empty inside right now…so alone. If Dylan is found guilty, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll have no reason to live. I guess I shouldn’t say that. I have the baby. If the worst happens, maybe I’ll just take a chance, le
ave Glasgow, and go it alone. But where will I go? The thought is terrifying – a woman, several months pregnant, alone, in a world that’s collapsed, in a society where no one can trust anyone. I guess it’s about my only option. I can’t stay here, not after what has happened and the way I’ve been treated. I’ll always be viewed as some sort of criminal…a social outcast. I’ll constantly be looking over my shoulder. In a way, I hope it never does rain again here. Then this place will just wither up and die…maybe that’s the best thing for it. Dry up, die, and be blown off the face of the planet. Those are my hopes for Glasgow. It probably sounds terrible, but that’s just the way I feel right now…so betrayed, so hurt, so hateful toward anyone and anything associated with this place. I thought these people were my friends…most of them at least. I thought I could trust them. But if this is their idea of a justice system, then I don’t belong here, and neither do any of my children.

  I need to find a way to get Dylan out of here no matter what the verdict. But how? They’ve got him locked up in a jail and under the watchful eye of an armed guard.

  3:24 p.m.

  After lunch today, the town held a brief meeting regarding the water situation. The water house is sputtering filthy water, and the pond is at a dangerously low level. We’ve all been on a water restriction for weeks now, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Without rain, no matter how much we conserve, it’s just not enough.

  The meeting was mostly about whether to attempt to run off the people in Olsten who are utilizing our pond water.

  In my opinion, who gives a SHIT!? My son is on trial for his life, and they’re bickering back and forth about water issues! I mean, I know it’s important, but not nearly as important as my son’s life!

  I didn’t even attend the meeting. I couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing on my mind right now, and that’s Dylan. Lamar reported to me after the meeting that they voted to go ahead with trying to get rid of the people in Olsten this coming Sunday. Personally, it doesn’t surprise me with the way things have been going lately. I think that we should try to work with them, but our little community here seems to be falling apart as our situation grows increasingly bleak.

  After the meeting adjourned, the jury members returned to their deliberations. I can’t believe it’s taking this long. I know that in the old days, back when our country still had a normal judicial system, they used to say that the jury being out for a long time was a good thing. But that was when it only took a dissenting vote or two to deadlock a decision. Now it’s a majority vote, one way or the other, and that fact terrifies me.

  5:15 p.m.

  At five tonight, the jury was ready to go home. They still haven’t come to a decision, but Gerald told them they needed to stay put until they can decide on a verdict. He wants a decision tonight so that the town can focus its attentions on the Olsten/water situation.

  Guess I’ll find out shortly one way or the other whether my boy will be back with me or…well, I’m not even going to think about the “other”.

  We’re having the trial inside a building on Main Street that used to be the old Elk’s lodge. A meeting room is being used as the courtroom. Out back behind the building is an enclosed patio with a picnic table; it’s where I spend much of my time waiting. I don’t want to go back to our lonely apartment, and since I can’t be with Dylan, I like to stay close to the courtroom in case there’s a verdict. Plus, it’s better to wait outside where there’s at least a slight breeze. I’d say it was probably in the low 90s today. And while the nights are cooler, it doesn’t feel like the temperature drops by much. It probably gets down in the low 80s at best.

  I think I’ll go over and visit Violet. I haven’t had a chance lately, and I miss her. Visiting her will be a mixture of emotions, and while it’s sad as hell and rips my heart out, it’s therapeutic in a way too. Even though I cry about the whole time I’m there, it still feels good to sit and talk to her.

  8:17 p.m.

  The verdict is in – guilty. I’m in shock. This all seems like a horrible nightmare from which I can’t wake up.

  At just after seven tonight, Gerald came and got me, saying that the jury had reached a decision. Dylan was brought from his jail cell to the makeshift courthouse to be read the verdict. They had him in handcuffs! I couldn’t believe it…HANDCUFFS! Like he’s a common criminal or he’s going to try to make a break for it. What is WRONG with these people!?

  Once everyone was settled in the stifling courtroom, the jury foreman – one of the Glasgow residents by the name of Keith who is part of the town’s security patrol – read the verdict. The final decision was five votes guilty to four votes not guilty. The instructions that Gerald had given them regarding the sentencing was to focus purely on whether Dylan was guilty of taking a life using unnecessary force, which apparently in their opinion, he had. I think that Barker’s testimony made it sound like Dylan had just walked into the room and shot them for the fun of it.

  In any normal judicial system, their split decision would have resulted in a hung jury, but not in this kangaroo court. I’m almost positive that Erika was the deciding factor. From the minute that Keith started reading the verdict, Erika locked eyes with me and didn’t blink until the entire verdict and sentencing had finished being read.

  What a heartless bitch – a heartless, stone cold bitch. If she had an ounce of compassion or sympathy, she’d put herself in my place and Travis in Dylan’s, but apparently that’s too much to ask.

  I’ve been sitting here alone at the picnic table out back behind the courtroom crying ever since, just trying to collect myself. I don’t know what to do. Dylan’s execution by firing squad is set for Monday. It gives me hardly any time…but time for what? What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get him back?

  From what I understand, Monday evening (once our raiding party is back from handling things in Olsten on Sunday night), Gerald and a small detail from the town’s security force are going to take Dylan to an undisclosed location for the execution. I was told that his body would be returned to me for burial.

  I have to figure out something to free him. I think my best bet is when Dylan is taken for execution. If I can follow them and take out a few of the guards when they exit their vehicles with Dylan in tow, maybe the rest of the guards will figure it’s not worth risking their lives and flee. If only I had help. I’d ask Chase, but I’m afraid he’d just turn me in with the way things have been going lately. And I think Lamar would help, but I don’t really want to involve another person in this. No, it’s MY problem, and I need to figure out how to handle it.

  Right now, I just feel like such a failure. I’ve failed in keeping my husband alive, I’ve failed in keeping my daughter alive, I’ve failed in sustaining the relationship with the man who has fathered my unborn child, and now I’m facing the failure of keeping my first born alive. Could I be any more worthless?

  But I have to shake this off. I have to persevere. If I don’t, there’s absolutely no hope for Dylan. I just wish I knew where they were going to take him for the execution. Then I could at least start figuring out some sort of plan. I don’t even know the exact TIME they’re taking him. I only know that it’s going to be Monday evening.

  Saturday, August 16 th

  6:57 p.m.

  I spent a portion of today appealing to Gerald to do something…ANYTHING to lessen Dylan’s sentence. But he said there’s nothing he could do. I told him that we’d leave town and they’d never see us again, but he said he couldn’t just let Dylan go after what he’d done and after the jury’s verdict. He explained himself saying that it’d be a slap in the face to our people and it would set a precedent that our court rulings were meaningless (which in my opinion, they are). I told him that he had the power to do something about this but that he was scared. He could let Dylan continue to serve time in jail or work off his sentence or SOMETHING. He could even just pull the guy guarding Dylan and let me break him out when no one was looking. Then we’d be gone and no one would
ever see us again. But he said that the people had spoken and that he doesn’t control the law here, he just helps enforce it. He said that if he overruled the decision, it’d be as though he was a dictator rather than just a spokesperson of the people. He told me he sympathized and could “feel my pain” (yeah right, he has no idea), but that a man was dead and he could do nothing regarding the will of the people.

  I think he’s just scared, scared of making a real decision on his own. Everything has to be discussed with the community and then put to a vote. Maybe he’s scared of Barker. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I eventually realized that all my pleading and reasoning with Gerald was pointless. It’s going to be up to me to do something about this.

  So after I got done wasting time with Gerald, I took my .38, borrowed one of the town’s work pickups that we use for hauling stuff to the garden, and drove a good distance from town. With the extra ammo that Gerald gave me back in Spencer, I did some target practice. It’s been a while since I’ve shot – actually, since we were raided back in Spencer – and I wanted to steady my hand and get a feel for firing a weapon again. It looks like I’m going to need the preparation if I want to help Dylan. I hate the thought of having to hurt the people I’ve been living with, but they’re giving me no choice…my son’s life is at stake. I’ll do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING in my power to save him.

  I still haven’t talked to Chase. It’s almost as though I suddenly don’t even exist. I saw him when I was going to get the truck, but he crossed the street to avoid me. He didn’t even make eye contact! ASSHOLE! Here I am, carrying his unborn child! I can’t believe I was so wrong in my feelings for someone. I don’t know where he’s been staying the last few nights (I hate to think), but now I find I don’t even care. I don’t want him to come home. That’s not true…I DO care, and I DO want him to come home, but right now, I CAN’T care. I need my wits about me, and I can’t be dwelling on lost loves. It’s just as well. Being so damn angry at him makes it easier for me to plan and carry out what I’m about to do. And if I’m successful, it will make it substantially easier to leave town and never look back.