by Ray Gorham
CHAPTER 24
Wednesday, October 12th
Central Wyoming
Day 40
My head is still spinning. Last night when I stopped for the evening I saw a home all lit up like how things were before Sept. 2nd. I hadn’t seen electric lights for a month and my feet got ahead of my brain. I got so excited thinking that everything was fixed and I’d be able to get back to you quicker and maybe be able to talk to you on the phone. But that’s not how it turned out. It was a bitter disappointment, making today one of the hardest days so far. I didn’t cover many miles, and it was hard to motivate myself to keep going, especially with the never-ending hills. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it. Right now you all seem so far away. If I knew that you were safe, it would lift a huge weight off of my shoulders. I have to think positive and hope for the best.
I love you all.
Deer Creek, Montana
After checking on the boys, Jennifer had closed the door at the top of the stairs and started down the hall to her bedroom when she heard a noise coming from Emma’s bedroom. She stopped and slowly pushed the door open, peering inside for the source of the sound. Emma rolled over in bed and looked towards the door. “Hi, Mom,” she whispered.
“Hi girl. Why are you still awake? You went to bed an hour ago.”
“I can’t sleep,” she whimpered.
“Are you crying?” Emma didn’t reply, but Jennifer could hear her sniffing. “What’s wrong, Em?”
Emma rolled back over and faced away from the door, so Jennifer tiptoed in and sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetie? What is it?”
Emma, as she started to sob, turned back to her mother, who lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay, Emma. I’m right here. What’s going on?”
Jennifer heard Emma take in a deep breath and then let it slowly out. “I don’t like the nights, Mom.”
“You don’t like the what?”
“I don’t like the nights.”
“What do you mean, you don’t like the nights?”
“I don’t. I hate them. I want the sun to shine all the time.”
“But that’s impossible, Emma. You know that. How come you’ve started hating nighttime so much?”
Jennifer could feel Emma shrug her shoulders. “I don’t know. I just do. It just gets so dark now. It’s like I’m lost in a cave that I can’t get out of. I had a dream the other night, and I woke up and I was scared, but it was so dark I didn’t even know if my eyes were open.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I’m just down the hall.”
“I was scared. The dream was about you -- that you left, and it was just me and David and Spencer here, and there was something in the house. I didn’t want to make any noise.” Emma started to cry again, and Jennifer pulled her daughter tight against her.
“Oh, Emma. I promise I will never leave you. If you have a bad dream again, just call me. Okay?”
“Can I have a candle in here? So it’s not so dark?”
“No, honey, you can’t. We only have a couple left. And even if we had a lot, it would be too dangerous to keep it lit while we sleep. Do you want me to sleep in here with you tonight?”
Jennifer could sense Emma nodding, so she pulled the blankets back and slid under the covers. “I already had my pajamas on. This’ll be good. Just the girls, huh?”
Emma laughed softly. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I remember when your Aunt Tracy and I used to share a room. Sometimes we’d stay up past midnight talking. She was a good big sister, and we always had a lot of fun.”
“Can I have a sister?”
“You want a sister?”
Emma laughed again. “I do. I’d be a good big sister.”
“I know you would. You know, Dad and I tried to have more kids, but I had some medical problems, and the doctor said I couldn’t have any more after Spencer was born. He even said Spencer was a miracle. Maybe we could steal a little girl though, what do you think?”
“Mom, don’t be silly. We can’t do that, and Spencer is no miracle; he’s a pain in the neck.”
It was Jennifer’s turn to laugh. “I thought you said you’d be a good big sister.”
“I meant for a girl, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see how it is. So if he was a girl, you’d like him more?”
“Probably. Cause he’d be nicer if he was a girl.”
“Well, just be glad you’ve got him. Things would be awfully quiet if he wasn’t around.” They laughed some more and talked about the things they missed most since the event, until finally Jennifer saw a sliver of moon peek through the window.
“I can see the moon, little girl. We should probably go to sleep.”
“Do you think tomorrow will be the day?” Emma asked, ignoring her mother.
“What day is that?”
“The day Dad gets home. Do you think tomorrow will be the day?”
“I don’t know.” Jennifer swallowed hard. “I hope so…but I don’t know.”
“I think that’s what I hate about the night the most -- that Dad didn’t come home. As long as the sun’s up, I tell myself he might still come home, but when it gets dark…” Her voice trailed off and Jennifer heard a sniffle.
“I hate the night too, Emma. I feel the very same way. Maybe tomorrow will be the day. Pinky swear with me that you won’t give up on your dad?” Jennifer felt the bed jiggle as Emma nodded her head. Their hands found each other in the darkness, and they linked pinkies and shook. “I love you, Emma. Let’s go to sleep and dream some happy dreams. Okay?”
Friday, October 14th
Deer Creek, Montana
Six weeks after “the event,” life for Jennifer had been reduced to a steady diet of predictable drudgery punctuated with regular doses of spirit-draining anxiety. Seven days a week most of her waking hours were spent pursuing survival -- trying to locate and store enough food to last them a day, a week, a month. In addition to the hunt for food, there was also the struggle to secure the fuel to cook the food and to keep the family safe and warm.
With bedtime commencing at sundown due to the lack of light, many mornings Jennifer and the kids would wake up well before dawn, but stay in bed and savor the warmth and security of their blankets while waiting for the sun to rise and the daily rituals to begin again.
The first item of the day was getting dressed, which too often required putting on the same clothes that had been worn for the past two, or three, or sometimes more days. Having clean clothes every day was a luxury that was now a distant memory. Instead, laundry was done by hand every couple of weeks at a makeshift laundromat set-up in the community using a large tub of water heated on an open fire and with just barely enough laundry soap to make suds.
Breakfast was the next item on the agenda and, thanks to the Andersons next door, theirs was better than what most people in the community enjoyed. The menu varied from day to day, but might consist of a small portion of fresh berries, sometimes canned peaches or applesauce, or a few fresh vegetables. They ate oatmeal once or twice a week, and when David was paid for working at the ranch, which he did most days, payment was made in grains, eggs, meat, and the occasional container of milk, which was always a welcome treat.
The Anderson’s garden was nearly at the end of production, but with a delayed first frost there was still an abundance of produce that Grace was harvesting, allowing for tomatoes, peas, lettuce, and other vegetables to account for a good portion of their diet as well. Lunch was similar to breakfast, and dinner consisted of any meat they had as well as any food that Jacob May might have collected during one of the scavenging trips in his truck. For filler, Jennifer made up simple, whole-wheat biscuits, and cooked them in the old Dutch Oven she’d retrieved from their camping supplies. All of the family had lost weight, but they weren’t starving, which meant a lot, and had adjusted without too much complaint to their new routine.
Beyond their search for food, Emma attended sc
hool four days a week, Spencer and Jennifer had playgroup three times, David did his work at the farm, and council and community meetings usually occupied three or four of Jennifer’s afternoons. A community lending library, with a variety of books available to borrow, had been started, along with game groups, dance groups, craft groups and a number of other venues that gave people a chance to get together in the evenings. On Sunday mornings, two different families hosted church services, and while attendance was rumored to be increasing each week, Jennifer hadn’t yet felt compelled to participate.
Late evening was the loneliest time of day for Jennifer, because it ended any opportunities to socialize and made her feel like her family was being held hostage to the demands of darkness. No longer could the night be held at bay with the flick of a switch, or loneliness salved with a phone call or a visit to a friend. With batteries and candles exhausted, for all intents and purposes, and Jennifer too afraid to experiment with any kind of flame for light, the coming of night forced the completion of each day whether she was ready for it or not, and each day was ending a little earlier than the one before.
Jennifer had found that if she started getting the kids off to bed when the sun hit the horizon, there was usually enough light for her to get them bedded down and still have a few minutes of time to herself before all of the light disappeared. Spencer typically went down first, although lately Emma was beating him, sometimes thirty minutes before the sun set. David preferred to stay up, but with the hard work he was doing at the ranch, the cooler weather setting in, and his energy tapped, he was usually ready to head to bed at dusk without much prodding.
As part of her nighttime ritual, Jennifer sat next to Spencer on his bed and tucked the covers around him, and tonight was no different from the routine they had developed.
She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, big guy,” she whispered in his ear.
“Love you too, Mom,” he replied, rising up to wrap his little arms tightly around her neck. He gave a grunt as he hugged her, then fell back onto his bed. “Mom,” he said, his blue eyes gazing up at her, innocent and wide. “When will dad be here?”
Jennifer flinched at the question. Over the last few weeks, Spencer had gradually quit asking about his dad, and Jennifer had been relieved that Spencer wasn’t thinking too much about his dad’s absence. “I don’t know, honey. Why do you ask?”
“He said he wasn’t going to be gone so long, but it’s been lots of days.”
“Dad didn’t know he’d be gone this long, hon, but some stuff has happened to make him late. No airplanes or cars are working right now.”
“How’s he going to get home?”
“Well,” said Jennifer, “how would you get home if you couldn’t use an airplane?”
Spencer considered the question, and then smiled. “I’d ride a horse, like a cowboy.”
“Well, you’re dad is probably riding a horse, just like you would.”
Spencer laughed. “But Dad’s not a cowboy.”
“I bet he’d learn, so he could get home to you.”
“Do you think he’s still mad?”
“Why do you think he’s mad?” Jennifer asked, surprised.
“He got mad when I knocked his shirts on the floor, and I didn’t say sorry.”
“Spencer, don’t you worry about that. I know your dad loves you, lots and lots.” She started to choke up. “I bet he doesn’t even care at all about those silly shirts. He just wants to get home to his kids.”
“Mom, tell him I’m sorry when he gets back.”
“I think he knows, Spencer. I’m glad you’re thinking about him.”
Spencer grinned broadly “See you in the morning, Mom,” he said, then turned on his side and closed his eyes, still smiling.
Jennifer kissed him again, then walked up the stairs as she thought about her conversation with Spencer and wondered where Kyle might be. In the living room, David was sitting on the floor playing solitaire with a well-worn deck of cards. “Time for bed, Son,” she said. “It’s almost dark, and you’re not feeling well.”
David coughed hoarsely and raised a hand in the air. “Just let me finish this game,” he choked out between the coughs.
“Are you going to be able to go to work tomorrow? You sound pretty bad.”
David shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said just as another coughing fit struck. “I hope so. We need the food.”
“Well, if you’re sick, you’re sick. I’m going to help the Andersons get most of the vegetables out of their garden this week. Grace is worried about frost and doesn’t want to lose anything. She said she’d share as much as they can spare, and they have lots of carrots and potatoes stocked in their basement, so don’t worry too much about missing a day or two at the farm.”
“But I’ve been getting some meat, and I’d rather not be a vegetarian.”
Jennifer laughed at her oldest. “We can get by on vegetables if we need to. Mrs. Anderson has a wonderful garden, so you’d better be grateful to her.”
“I am, Mom. You know I’m just kidding. Has Mrs. Anderson ever said why she has such a big garden? The thing takes up most of the yard around their house. It’s huge!”
“Grace says it’s a hobby she enjoys. She likes to try out new varieties and techniques, plus they do a lot of canning and usually share it with their kids. We’re extremely lucky that they live next door.”
David nodded and finished his card game while he visited with his mother, then wished her a good night and headed downstairs to his bedroom.
Jennifer straightened up the house before settling in on the couch with a borrowed book. The evenings were getting cooler, and she wrapped a blanket around her legs and positioned herself to catch the last of the fading light, reading until the words on the pages could no longer be deciphered, then she folded down the corner and set the book on the floor.
Lately, with the cooler evenings, it felt like fall, and Jennifer worried again about how they would stay warm through the winter. The propane fireplace would provide some heat, but they only had a quarter tank left, and she had no idea how long that would last, especially if temperatures got down below zero.
She worried, as she always did, about Kyle, and seriously wondered for the first time, if he was really alive, and if he was alive, where he might be. She worried about their food, but hoped that between the Anderson’s generosity and David’s work at the farm, they would scrape by. She worried about Doug. He was a constant, nagging stress she carried with her everywhere she went. She’d seen him around recently, but thankfully he’d avoided any contact with her. Maybe her message had been received after all, but she doubted that. His actions at the last meeting told her that was unlikely.
Jennifer worried about the community. The death of the Klein family seemed to have broken things open, and a dark cloud had settled over many of the people she talked to. Some now talked openly about dying, and many were no longer participating in the community activities. Occasionally, she cranked up the radio to listen to the president’s radio broadcasts, but the hope and optimism portrayed there contrasted so sharply with what she saw around her that she had simply dismissed the broadcasts as propaganda and quit listening. According to others, the president had reported that some power had been restored in Washington D.C., but rather than finding that encouraging, the news had depressed her more than she would’ve imagined. Going on five weeks, she thought, and that’s all the progress they can report?
She worried about her kids, wishing they could have typical childhood experiences like attending a real school, visiting relatives, going to the zoo, and watching TV. She hated that they were worrying about whether or not they would see their dad again and had to work for food or help with the burial of a neighbor. Emma struggled the most, and Jennifer didn’t know what to do. Their night together had helped some, plus Jennifer had tried playing games and reading books with Emma, and even going on mother-daughter walks, but was still having limited success in helping her dau
ghter cope with their new way of life. David was becoming a man, having matured rapidly in the past few weeks, but Jennifer worried about him too, that he was having to grow up too quickly. His work at the Shipley farm was tough, but the milk, meat, and other food he was earning were a huge help to the family, and David knew the value it had for them, which added to his pressure and responsibilities. Spencer, on the other hand, was young and taking everything in stride, not worrying about things too much, just innocently accepting the situation for what it was. Still thinking about her kids, Jennifer drifted off to sleep where she dreamed about easier times.
Jennifer slept peacefully until a noise broke through her dreams and abruptly woke her. Without moving from the couch, Jennifer tried to regain her bearings as she listened for the noise to repeat. A neighbor’s dog barked in the distance, and comfortable that she’d identified the disturbance, Jennifer relaxed and drifted off to sleep again. Just as she lost consciousness, she heard muffled footsteps in the house. Her mind focused immediately and she sat up. “David?” she called out and waited for an answer. The noise stopped, but no answer came. “David, is that you? Are you feeling okay?” The house was eerily still.
Darkness surrounded her, the dim glow of the moonlight barely illuminating the windows let alone the rest of the house. Now sitting on the edge of the couch, she held her breath and leaned forward, straining to hear the sound. She heard the neighbor’s dog again, but was certain that wasn’t what had awakened her. The silence was thick and heavy, and Jennifer listened and waited, but still nothing.