The Dying Season

by J. Reichman

  "If you need accommodations, see these volunteers. It's up to you. We don't know how long it'll be before help arrives," Nick said.

  "One more thing." Brett rose again. "We'll be using my cabins as a base of operations. Steve, Doak, Red, and . . . I don't believe I know you."

  A stocky young man waved. "Darren Hall. I drive that Bud truck parked outside."

  Jeff Hayes whooped. "Damn. All my life I'd hoped to be stranded with a truckload of Bud."

  Everyone laughed.

  "Well, Darren," Brett said, "as you're marooned here, we can use your help."

  "As well as your Bud," Doak Noland added.

  "I thought we might see what's salvageable along the highway, especially in the general store and Striker's." Brett scratched his chin. "Maybe figure out the gasoline if water hasn't gotten into it. Generators will need refueling."

  "Now just a minute." Chuck rose to protest. "Who said you could plunder my store?"

  "What you gonna do, Chuck?" Zenia said. "Let it all go to waste while people need supplies?"

  "Still." Chuck grimaced and sat. "Could've at least asked."

  "And I think it'll be good to meet here again tomorrow evening," Brett said, "just to keep everyone informed."

  "Buddy's Bar is gone down river, so bring that Bud truck," Red Palmer said. "No sense letting good beer go to waste."

  More thunder rolled across the heavens from one side of the cafeteria to the other. Everyone looked up and followed its progress.

  "One more thing," Nick said. "We need to check houses tomorrow. If you can help do that, meet at Brett’s cabins about nine or so. I think that’s all.”

  Feeling that the meeting had gone well, Nick watched the group break into clusters. Jeff immediately cornered Darren, the beer driver. Wade Murphy, who drove a pickup, met with May who requested help at the daycare. Several people crowded around Cooper Stone offering camping equipment, and others seemed interested in Brett's cabins for a restful night. Then he noticed Henrietta Jones talking to Lyn who looked at him helplessly. Surely, Henri wasn’t interested in spending the night at their house. He shook his head at Lyn and mouthed, NO!

  He suddenly wanted to leave before anyone else asked for a bed. He watched as Lyn walked toward him. "What did Henri want?”

  "A place to stay."

  "You didn't."

  Lyn raised her eyebrows and gazed at him. "After that big speech about helping each other, how could I say no?"

  Nick noticed her mouth twitched and suspected she was trying not to laugh. “Oh, God,” he moaned. And I thought all was well.

  “I’m sure you noticed Danielle Welsh is very pregnant.”

  “She’s got two weeks to go. We’ll be out of here by then.”

  “Fire!” Steve yelled. “Something’s on fire down the hill!”

  The crowd pushed through the cafeteria doors into the hallway and rushed to the entry doors. Standing under the portico, Nick saw a glow downhill to his left.

  “Must’ve been lightning,” someone said.

  “Come on, Brett,” Herb said. “We’ll get the pumper truck.”

  “Must be the old Colburn place,” Henri said. “It’s always been a tinder pile. I’m gonna watch.”

  “Let’s go.” Nick took Lyn’s arm.

  Within minutes, the parking lot emptied out, and a caravan of vehicles headed down the hill. Following the vehicle ahead of him, Nick turned left at the second cross street. Vehicles blocked the street.

  “We’ll have to walk.” Nick put on his Broncos cap.

  Lyn picked up her umbrella. “Coming, Zenia?”

  “Right behind you.”

  “Get out of the way,” Stella Myers said. “Here comes the pumper.”

  “Too late for that,” Henri said. “Fire’s had a big head start.”

  Nick elbowed to the front of the crowd. The Colburn house was downhill off the street. Flames shot through the roof, sparks flying to the east. The pumper truck eased down the driveway and stopped. Brett stepped out.

  “How can I help?” Nick asked.

  “Got to unreel the hose,” Brett said. He flipped a switch. “You pull it out. I’ll hook it up.”

  Nick grabbed the nozzle and pulled toward the fire as the hose came off the reel. The heat of the fire burned his cheek, so he angled more to the right until the hose jerked to a stop.

  Brett waved Nick over. “I’ll handle the hose. See this switch?”

  Nick nodded.

  “When I give you the signal, throw it.”

  Nick watched Herb join Brett at the hose. Brett signaled. Nick threw the switch and the pump throbbed. The hose writhed like a living thing and water arched toward the fire. The roof collapsed into the second story. Windows shattered and the walls bulged out driving the men back. Flames raced up the window curtains and enveloped the ground floor. The men aimed water at the windows trying to save at least the lower part of the structure, but Nick could tell their efforts were in vain.

  We need a city water system. Hydrants, he thought. Can’t only depend on a pumper. Where’s the well here? Does our fire department know where the wells are? I guess that’s what Herb was doing, hooking up to a well.

  Within half an hour, fire consumed the house. Herb and Brett hosed down the remaining hot spots.

  “Petersons own the place now,” Chuck said as he joined Nick. “Summer home, you know.”

  Brett signaled to Nick and he shut down the pump.

  “Saved the foundation,” Herb said.

  NINE

  Darkness blanketed Brett’s cabins as a steady rain fell. Specks of light showed in the windows of the five cabins facing downhill, and the smell of wood smoke wafted eastward. The Bud truck sat nose-in next to cabin three, and cabin three rocked. Jeff, sharing the cabin with Darren, turned his battery-operated CD player to full volume. The open beer truck made beer available to all, and Darren carried a case of Bud into the cabin.

  Looking forward to a fine time, Jeff snatched a can, popped the top, and slugged down some beer. “Not as cold as I like it,” he said, though he savored the malty hop flavor.

  “Price is right,” Darren said. He opened a can and flopped onto the couch.

  At a knock on the door, Jeff called out, “Yeah?”

  “It’s Red,” a voice answered.

  Jeff opened the door to Red Palmer, the bartender. Cheyenne Conrad, his girlfriend and the bar’s waitress, stood behind him. Lightning framed them in the doorway. Thunder cracked then rumbled away as though tired from continuous exertion.

  “Sounds like a party,” Red said.

  “Come on in and grab a brew,” Jeff said.

  “The Myers are right behind me,” Red said.

  “Hey, Steve,” Jeff said. “Beer’s on the house. Take a couple for your lovely wife, too.”

  “Heard the music,” Stella said. “Awfully quiet in our cabin without electricity.”

  “You next door?” Darren asked.

  “That’s me and Cheyenne,” Red said. “Steve’s on the other side of us.”

  “You know these guys?” Jeff asked Darren.

  “Met Red this morning,” Darren said. “I was at the bar when he got the phone call.”

  “The two of us got out of there fast,” Red said.

  Jeff felt expansive as he introduced everyone. Being stranded ain’t so bad after all. Party time. He crushed his beer can and got another. “Help yourself,” he said. “There’s more outside.”

  “So you’re an electrician,” Darren said to Steve. “No electricity. You’re out of a job.”

  “I fix generators, too,” Steve said. “Think I’ll see if there’s any more around tomorrow.”

  “Brett said something about searching Striker’s and the general store,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah,” Steve said. “You three can do that.”

  Jeff opened the door at another knock. “Come on in, Doak,” he said. “You alone?”

  “Chrissy stayed with her kids up at school,” Doak said.
r />   “Have a beer,” Darren said. “Don’t believe I’ve met you.”

  “Doak Noland.” He held out a hand. “I owned the bar.”

  “Sorry about that, dude.” Darren shook his hand. “Darren Hall, Bud driver. This ain’t my regular route.”

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “Should’ve been Ernie here.” That Ernie’s a lucky stiff, he thought. He felt lucky, too. Lucky to be alive and among friends.

  “I went over and looked where the bar was,” Doak said. “Foundation left, is all.”

  “Insurance?” Red asked.

  Doak shook his head. “Not for a flood. Tried to get some. Too high.”

  “What you gonna do?” Cheyenne asked.

  “Rebuild away from the river, I guess. Got a lot up by the Red Rooster.”

  “Wonder what Striker’ll do,” Jeff said. “Service station’s gotta be on the highway.”

  “The building and tanks are left,” Steve said. “He’ll repair. Get new pumps.”

  “Got to repair the road first,” Stella said. “That could take months.”

  What a downer. Unable to deal with that reality, Jeff shook off the thought. “Hey, this is a party,” he said. “I heard this joke yesterday.”

  The next half hour was more to Jeff’s liking. Jokes, laughter and beer. Then a loud knock at the door startled everyone.

  “Someone else to join the party,” Jeff said as he opened the door.

  “You’re making too much noise.” Chuck stalked across the room and turned down the music. He faced the group. “We can’t sleep. Don’t be so inconsiderate.” He slammed the door as he left.

  “That prick’s the mayor?” Darren said.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said.

  “We’ve got to go, anyway,” Stella said. “I’ve got an early morning.”

  “Me, too,” Doak said. “Gonna stay at the school with Chrissy tonight.”

  “Don’t everyone leave,” Jeff said. “Red, you’ll stay, won’t you?”

  Red looked at Cheyenne who nodded. “Sure, we’ll stay for another.”

  Jeff breathed a sigh of relief.

  Darren supplied another case of beer. "Getting fuckin' chilly out there."

  "Keeps the beer cold." Red took another beer.

  "I'll take another, too." Jeff threw an empty can into the trash.

  "Help yourself," Darren said. "I ain't a waiter."

  Cheyenne leaned back on the couch. "Won't you get in trouble giving away beer?"

  "Nah." Darren lit a cigarette. "Company will be more worried about the damned truck than me or the beer."

  "Wonder how they'll get it out of here," Red said.

  "Take a big 'copter to lift it." Darren popped open another can and sat at the table.

  "Beer would be out of date by then," Jeff said.

  "Red I get," Darren said as he pointed to Red's hair. "What's your real name?"

  "Ain't tellin'." Red sipped his beer. "Mom was a fan of some damned numbnut in a band."

  "Even I don't know," Cheyenne said.

  "I got no job no more." Red looked down at the beer in his hand. "Cheyenne, neither."

  "Don't know what we'll do." Cheyenne leaned forward and put a hand on Red's thigh.

  "I got no job, either," Jeff said. "Striker's is out of business."

  "I got a union job." Darren chuckled. "Just can't get there."

  They fell silent.

  "Guess it's like everything else," Cheyenne said. "Never can tell what tomorrow will bring."

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “First we have a flood then a fire.”

  “Man, wasn’t that something,” Darren said. “Flames shooting up and rain coming down. Never seen anything like that.”

  “Makes you wonder what’s next,” Red said.

  "What you think about this fuckin' murder?" Darren said.

  "I knew her." Jeff fondled his beer. "Always came in with a smile on her face. Real nice lady. Cute, too."

  "She never came into the bar," Red said.

  "No, she wouldn't." Jeff slugged back his beer. "Not with Andy at home."

  "Why would the man take Andy?" Cheyenne said.

  No one could answer that question.

  "Think he's still around here?" Darren asked.

  "The whole idea gives me the willies," Cheyenne said.

  "If he is, we'll get him," Jeff said.

  "Sic 'em, Rambo." Darren chuckled.

  “Bet he’s creeping around the village right now,” Red said.

  “Don’t say that.” Cheyenne hugged herself.

  "What was that ruckus at Brett's cabin earlier?" Red asked.

  "Oh, you mean Chuck, the prick," Jeff said.

  "We had cabin two," Darren said. "Then he shows up with his family and tells us to move."

  "He demanded our cabin. Claimed as mayor he was the headquarter's leader," Jeff said.

  Darren shrugged. "We moved."

  Jeff watched Red's hand move up Cheyenne's thigh to her crotch. Lucky guy, he thought. Stranded with beer is okay. Be even better with a girl. "Control yourself, man," Jeff said.

  "Unless you're willing to share." Darren stood.

  "I'm outta here!" Cheyenne grabbed her jacket. The door slammed after her.

  "You guys know how to fuck up a good time." Red put on his jacket.

  "I was just kidding," Darren said.

  "She ain't got no sense of humor." Red opened the door.

  “Don’t go,” Jeff said. “We were havin’ a good time.”

  “I ain’t lettin’ her stumble around in the dark with a murderer on the loose.”

  The wood shifted in the fireplace and sparks flew up the chimney.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” Jeff said.

  “Sorry, dude.” Darren lit a cigarette, leaned forward in his chair and stared into the fire. “Red’s a lucky guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say.” Darren lifted his head. “There was this hot girl at the meeting. Sitting over to my left. Short blonde hair, kinda curly. Had on this tight low-cut red blouse. Big knockers.”

  “Chuck’s wife, Dana.”

  “She’s married to that prick?”

  “Yeah. Why you askin’ about her?”

  “She kept lookin’ at me.”

  “Really?”

  “I finally winked at her and she winked back.”

  “You better leave her alone.” What kind of guy is he? Flirtin’ with Dana. That’ll lead to trouble.

  “Ssshhh.” Darren held up a hand. “Hear that?”

  Jeff froze. Metal on metal. A clank, then silence. He reached up, turned the hurricane lamp to low and tiptoed to the window. He stared into the darkness. Nothing. Then a shadow moved. Where’s the lightning when I need it, he wondered.

  “It’s the killer,” Darren whispered.

  The hairs on Jeff’s neck prickled. His muscles tensed.

  “You said you’d get him,” Darren said.

  Jeff considered catching the killer. Dash from the cabin, tackle him, tie him up. Wouldn’t that be something? Everybody’d pound his back, call him a hero. It’d be like a movie. Movies are fiction, he realized.

  “He’s got a knife,” Jeff said. “I ain’t got nothin’.”

  “So?”

  “I’ll get him in daylight when I got a gun.”

  “We can’t let him escape.” Darren opened the door and shouted, “Hey!”

  “It’s me,” Steve Myers replied. “Can’t see a damned thing. Need a flashlight. Lookin’ for the outhouse.”

  “To your left. Back of Brett’s cabin,” Jeff said.

  The shadow moved. “Found the walk. Thanks.”

  Darren shut the door.

  Jeff leaned back against the door and breathed deeply. “Think that calls for another beer.”

  TEN

  Nick loved his home. It sat among trees on a large lot that stretched up the hill. The dining room faced the front next to the entry on the left. Off the entry on the right, stairs led to the four bedrooms on the second floor. Th
e kitchen with a breakfast area was back of the dining room, and a large great room stretched across the back with a deck off of it. The vividly-colored walls accented the white woodwork, and Lyn had selected comfortable, homey furnishings. It was the perfect place to unwind after a day dealing with whiney, sick children.

  Nick, a glass of wine in his hand, opened the front door. Henrietta Jones brushed past him, a suitcase in one hand, a small dog clutched in her other arm, and a pistol shoved under her waistband. She lowered the dog to the floor. It immediately charged Duke, yapping furiously. Duke, who already made friends with the Woodsons' dog Dolly, retreated.

  Nick bristled at her presumptiveness and felt his eyelid twitch, a tic he developed under stress. "We don't take dogs."

  "You got 'em, don't cha?" Henri sat down her suitcase. "Come here, sweetheart."

  The little dog obediently trotted back to Henri who picked it up.

  "This here is Sweetie Pie." Henri kissed the dog’s nose. "He sleeps with us every night."

  Lyn came from the great room. "Oh, Henri. We don't allow guns."

  Nick noticed Lyn biting her lip, a sure sign of irritation.

  "It's for protection," Henri protested. "We got a killer on the loose."

  "Nevertheless," Nick said, "you'll have to leave it in your truck."

  "You mean I gotta go back out there in the dark?" Henri shivered. "The monster may be lurking around."

  "Then give it to me." Nick held out his hand. "I'll put it away."

  Henrietta reluctantly handed over the pistol. "Why's it so dark in here?"

  "We're operating on candle power." Lyn picked up the suitcase. "Come on in."

  "I thought you had a generator."

  Nick looked at the gun in his hand. Cold, heavy and deadly. He checked the safety. On, that’s good. Where shall I put it? In the kitchen, he wrapped it in a towel and placed it in a pie pan in the back of a cabinet. Trash would be a better place in my opinion. Reluctant to join the women, he stood in the doorway listening to their conversation.

  "You must've misunderstood," Lyn said. "We have heat. No electricity and no water."

  "I think the fire's glow adds a certain ambiance," Zenia said.

  "No water? But you can't flush the toilet, then." Henri, seated on the couch, put the little dog down onto the rug.