by J Scaddon
Ida returned home with her boys and her groceries. Her seemingly carefree day was now becoming oppressive, as she was forced back to her property. The thought of staying the night there, with a maniac on the loose, filled her with dread. She was hopeful that Jeb had located and arrested the vagrant, but these hopes were somewhat dashed when she found his patrol car, still parked up outside her front yard. She looked around for the deputy, but he was no-where to be seen. After putting the groceries away, Ida located the two shotguns from the basement. They were old and covered in cobwebs. Her husband had used them to hunt rabbits. After his death she had found no use for them and so had stowed them away, hoping to never have to see them again. She had purchased a box of cartridges from the store and followed the store clerk’s advice on loading the weapon. She would need help from someone to show her how to use the gun safely, if that was at all possible.
Right then she heard a car horn honking out the front. She emerged onto the porch and saw the sheriff half hanging out of his car peeping the horn. He was parked up behind Jeb’s car and was looking for his deputy. A few moments later, the deputy came out from the undergrowth and waded his way over to the vehicles.
“Sheriff!” he said, tipping his wide brimmed hat.
“What have you got then, Jeb? Any sign of our guy?”
“Oh yes, Sir. He has been around here alright. Campfire, signs that he’s been skinning animals and various cigarette butts lying around. Not something you’d ever find out here. I don’t doubt that Mrs Ida won’t have campers dropping littler in such a tranquil place. But up to now, no sign that the guy is still here. Although, he aint long gone. Oh, I went into to town for lunch and I was told about Whelan. He okay?”
“Well, I don’t rightly know at the moment. I think it’s nothing to worry about. I have just been up to the shack now. He wasn’t there. But the door was unlocked. Now, Mrs Grace said that the door was locked when she was last there, so he must have been back between her going and me turning up. So he’s alive at least.”
“He’s probably in a stupor somewhere,” said Jeb.
“Just what I thought. Drunk again. And thinking the world is after him. Sure he makes me smart at times, but I still have a soft spot for old Whelan. Stupid fool that he is.”
“I’ll go and have a look after this then boss,” said Jeb, reluctantly.
The sheriff checked his watch and then had a moment to himself. “No Jeb, you go home for the night. You’ve worked hard today and done a good job. Listen, we will both go up first thing in the morning and check on him. Then we can come back here and see if that hobo has been back. I’d like to get my hands on him. I’ll bet it’s not just rabbits that he’s been skinning.”
“Oh look, Sheriff, Mrs Ida is sneaking up on you with a gun. Better put your hands up!” Jeb chuckled and gave Ida a wave. She was sneaking up on the sheriff, but only to rob him of some advice. Sheriff Glick played the part and jokingly stuck his hands high in the air and backed away from the fair lady who was struggling to keep the massive gun horizontal.
“Sheriff Glick,” said Ida, with a cheeky grin on her face. Her boys were watching and laughing from the porch. “Put your hands up and show me how to work this God damned thing!”
The Sheriff’s face dropped at the sound of such blasphemy, but he quickly forgave her. He showed her around the weapon and called the boys over for a little safety advice.
The fun and games soon turned more serious as the sheriff and deputy departed for the evening and Ida was left to fend for herself. She set the guns up near the doors to the house and tried her best to carry on as normal. She hadn’t spoken to her brother and had no means to contact him at that late hour. She didn’t have a phone. She had also forgotten to purchase batteries at the store and so now the only use the flashlight was to her was to throw at the hobo if he came close enough. She rued the fact that being away from the house had allowed her to forget about the issues at home. The night was closing in and the pines around the house did their best to smother out any glint of moonlight. Only the first row of trunks could be seen from the house windows. They were illuminated by the room lights. Everything beyond that had dissolved into the dense empty nothingness.
Ida put her boys to bed and turned their room light out. They had no curtains on the windows as they had pulled them down a while back during a high spirited game that got out of hand. It had been a job that Ida had been putting off as Jake and Joel were happy and content to be able to see the stars as they lay waiting to drift off. She looked out through their window before leaving and could see nothing untoward. Picking up one of the guns, she went out onto the porch and set herself up in one of the chairs she kept there. She pulled a blanket up over herself to try and seem invisible. She was watching out for anything. There was complete silence surrounding her home. Even the crickets were quiet that night. It was unusual, but this was really the first time that Ida had actually paid as much attention to the world around her. She had never actually listened so intently before. After a while she started to hear the crickets start up. Then she heard rustling up in the canopies above her head. The sounds of the night started to grow and as she listened she started to be soothed by the rhythmic chirping and clicks that filled the night air. She was warm and comfortable and her eyes became dry and heavy. She clutched at the shotgun and dropped her head back onto the chair. She was no longer watching, just listening. She soon fell asleep.
Jake roused from his sleep. He was a light sleeper and it didn’t take much to wake him. He rubbed his eyes and waited for his vision to adapt to the darkness. He could hear his brother whispering on the other side of the room. He looked over and could see his brother gesturing towards the window.
“Go away!” whispered Joel. “My mother says you can’t be round here no more.”
Jake got up and crossed over to his brother. He sat down on his bed and looked over to the window. There was no-one at the glass. “Who are you talking to?” he asked.
“No-one,” said Joel. “Go back to sleep.”
Jake went back over to his bed, but passed close to the window first, to look out. He crept up to the window and peered through the glass. He looked from one side to the other. As he panned across, he noticed a smudge on the window. He moved his head around to catch it in the light. It was a handprint. A large, dirty handprint smeared on the pane. He looked closer at the glass. A small patch of condensation misted the window slightly. Jake turned to look at his brother, who was pretending to be asleep.
“Was that hobo just here? Joel?”
Joel didn’t answer.