They called it “THE INCIDENT”
By
J.M. JOHNSON
Copyright © 2016 J.M. Johnson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of J.M. Johnson.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, (other than place names) characters, businesses, organizations and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thank you to my friend Leda Wagner for her willingness to be the ‘test’ reader and for her reviewing and editing of “The Incident”.
Leda wrote:
Great. I could not stop reading. The beginning was interesting enough to make me want to continue but it really picked up speed as I went along. I really did like it. And the ending as well.
Well done you talented woman you. Leda
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
About J.M Johnson
WHAT HAPPENED TO TARA
CHAPTER ONE
“Did you hear that?”
Tony looked up from his book and stilled the rocking of his chair. In the late summer twilight, the birds still sang and the breeze still whispered in the trees. But he felt a difference in the atmosphere.
He glanced toward Irma, watching her fingers flash as she wielded the crochet hook.
She looked up. “What is it?” she inquired. “Is something wrong?” She glanced around the yard then back to him.
“I don’t know.” He rubbed a hand through his gray hair and shook his head. “Suddenly something doesn’t seem right.”
They both stood and walked to the edge of the porch. Tony rested his calloused hands on the railing, noticing that it needed painting again. The same familiar flowers nudged against the side of the house. The birds tweeted their good night songs.
The old sheepdog who had been snoring loudly, reluctantly struggled to his feet and tottered after them. Tony reached down and affectionately rubbed his grey muzzle. “Stay there, Rufus,” he commanded. “No need for you to get up”. The dog sighed but stayed with his master.
Tony glanced towards the driveway. He could just make out the gate, almost hidden in the forest of old growth pines and firs that nudged up to the road. If he turned his head, he would see the garden with its neat rows of potatoes, cabbage and corn, just about ready for harvesting.
“Oh my goodness!” Irma gasped. “Look!” In the distant sky they could see something falling, followed by a trail of white smoke. “It’s a plane!”
There was a muffled boom and they knew the plane had hit the ground. Involuntarily they grasped each other’s hand.
“What should we do?” Irma looked up at him.
“We can’t do anything.” He turned back to the chairs. “It’s too far away for us to do anything.” He sat heavily. “Those poor people.”
“I heard something else too, before the crash.” He looked around, suddenly noticing how very quiet it had become.
“I think the power’s out.” Irma pulled open the screen door and clicked the porch light switch a few times.
“That’s what it is,” Relief washed over their faces. “The power is out, that’s all.”
Tony turned toward the house. “I’ll bet that what I heard is the sound stopping.” His voice was troubled. “We don’t really hear the fridge, or the hum of appliances until they quit.”
“I hope it doesn’t last long.” Irma’s voice quavered. “It’ll be full dark soon. Maybe we should find the candles.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’ll just check on things” he told her. “Maybe we can call some of the neighbors and see if they’ve heard anything.” She heard him pick up the phone, then lay it back down again.
“Phone’s dead too,” he called through the open door. “I’ll try my cell.”
Irma picked up her needlework, but was too unsettled to continue. Sighing, she laid it in the basket at her feet. Without lights there was no point in going in and the evening was still warm enough that they didn’t need the sweaters that were draped casually on the backs of their chairs. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the gentle rocking soothe her.
Tony came back shaking his head. “I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “phone’s dead and my cell won’t come on. Very strange.” He cocked his head for a moment. “And listen, Mother, there is no traffic. I don’t know when I’ve heard it be so quiet.”
Only the sound of the birds broke the evening hush. The traffic on their country road was usually sparse, but now it seemed to have stopped altogether.
For the next hour, they rocked and watched the sun setting in the west. There was no need to talk. After nearly fifty years, they each knew what the other was thinking. Finally, Tony broke the silence. “I wonder if anybody was saved from the plane.”
Irma nodded. “What a terrible thing. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
She stood up resolutely. “At least we can have tea. Thank goodness we have a propane stove to cook on.”
In the kitchen, she reached for the tap, then chuckled ruefully. “Oh-oh. No electricity, no water pump.”
“The power must be off everywhere,” Tony commented. “if the community pump isn’t working.”
She lifted the kettle and felt its weight. There was enough water for tea. “do we have some matches?” she asked her husband. It was dark now and she could barely see him sitting at the table. “I’ll need to light the stove manually.”
She heard him rummaging in the “junk” drawer. There were usually matches in there. And candles too, she remembered.
“Here they are.” Tony swung towards her, matches in hand, and collided with her shoulder. “Watch out,” he cried. “It’s so dark I can’t see you.”
“Ouch!” She rubbed her shoulder where his fist had made contact. “Can you light a candle? At least we don’t have to run into each other.”
Half an hour later they were drinking hot cups of tea and eating ice cream by candlelight.
“More ice cream? Irma offered. “It’ll all melt by morning.”
Tony shook his head and pushed the empty bowl to one side. “No, it’s late. We won’t solve anything sitting here worrying. Let’s go to bed and in the morning everything will be back to normal.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” She shivered slightly. “We’ve been without power before but this feels different somehow.”
Even in the country, it was seldom completely dark in the house. Appliances hummed, clocks glowed, computer terminals shone through the night. Now
everything was black and silent. Even Rufus seemed restless and kept getting up to pace the kitchen.
Tony sipped the last of his tea and stood up. “Come on, Mother.” He held out his hand. “Leave the clean-up for morning. Let’s go to bed. We can sleep in the dark, I’m sure. Lay down, Rufus. Nothing is going to get us tonight.”
A hundred miles away, Jason and Monica Baldini were snuggled on the couch watching their favourite movie. Both were exhausted after the struggle to put their year-old son to bed.
“He’s getting big enough to manipulate us.” Jason groaned. “He does it on purpose I’m sure.”
“Don’t be silly.” Monica gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “he’s just a baby and that’s what babies do. They fuss and fret and need more hugs.” She stretched her long legs out in front of her and yawned. “I don’t think I’m going to last through this movie though. I’m going to bed.”
She stood up just as the television screen went black. At the same time, they were startled by an explosion that rattled the window.
Jason leaped up and threw back the drapes. They both gasped as they saw and heard two more explosions from the nearby airport. Monica put her hands over her mouth in horror and pointed to the street, ten floors below. Cars and trucks had come to a complete halt with many of them colliding. People spilled onto the street from the vehicles and from nearby buildings.
“Quick,” Jason ran for the door. “Call 911. And don’t go anywhere until I come back.”
“Where are you going?” Frantically Monica grabbed for her cell phone and began to stab at the numbers. “There won’t be an elevator.”
The door had slammed behind him, as Monica realized there was no dial tone. She frowned and put it down on the counter, then reached for the house phone. It too was silent.
Below her, she saw Jason run out of the building and make his way to the nearest car. He spoke briefly to the woman standing beside the driver’s door then moved on to the next one. Up and down the street, others were doing the same. Outside one small car that appeared to have collided with a pickup, she could see a woman lying on the ground. Several people huddled around her. Smoke drifted lazily in the distance.
Monica stood, mesmerized by the scene below. Tears ran down her face, unnoticed. She lost sight of her husband and watched as people slowly drifted away from the street. Some men had picked up the woman and carried her into a nearby building. She wondered if the person was alive. Why wasn’t help coming? No sirens wailed; no emergency lights flashed. Finally, she glanced around the dark apartment. How long had she been standing there? Reflexively she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Shaking her head, she looked at the watch ticking on her wrist. “Midnight!” Suddenly afraid, she checked the locks on the outer door. There was a security chain that had never been used since they moved in two years ago. Now she slid the chain into its slot and rotated the handle on the deadbolt. Without street lights or the usual traffic, the apartment was as black as a cave. She pulled the sofa over to the window, determining to keep watch until Jason returned. Feeling cold, she pulled the blanket that was draped over the arm of the couch, over her shoulders. Outside, it was now too dark to see what was happening on the street. Wearily, she rested her head on a cushion and prayed that everybody was home safe.
CHAPTER TWO
After a restless night, Irma shuffled around the kitchen in her slippers, wondering if she had enough water for the morning coffee. It was early, the sun was barely above the horizon. She glanced at her wristwatch.
Four a.m. That seemed right but without confirmation, she felt disoriented. Usually, the radio would be on, telling her the time, the weather and how the traffic was flowing in the city.
“It’s amazing,” she thought to herself as she filled the coffee pot from bottles of water, “how dependant we are on someone telling us the sun is shining and it will be a nice day.”
She stopped pouring the water realizing there would be no coffee made in this pot until the power came back on.
Just then, Tony came into the kitchen. He laughed when he saw what she had been doing.
“I guess we had better dig out the old camping stuff,” he said ruefully.
He gave her a quick hug. “What are you doing?” he asked. “we didn’t go to sleep until nearly one, and it’s way too early to be up.”
“I know,” Irma replied shakily. She felt close to tears. “But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about those poor people on the plane. I hope everything comes back on soon.”
By one in the afternoon, there were still no lights and no traffic had passed. It was eerily quiet, the only sound that of the birds singing and the creak of their rocking chairs as they sipped their lunchtime tea.
Finally, Tony got to his feet decisively. “Let’s go over to the Johnson’s and see if they’ve heard anything.”
Irma nodded. “Good idea, dear. You go start the car and I’ll comb my hair and be ready in five minutes”.
Five minutes later she came out onto the porch and found Tony staring under the hood of her car.
“It won’t start.” He scratched his head and then replaced the battered baseball cap he wore. “I tried the pickup, your car, even the lawnmower…none of them will start. What in hell is going on?”
“Language, dear.” She admonished him coming down the steps.
He smiled shakily. “How do you feel about a walk, Mother? Think these old bones can make a mile to the Dennis’s?”
“I thought we were going to the Johnson’s?”
“That was my first thought, but if we walk across the field, the Dennis’s are closer.” He slammed the hood shut and reached for her hand. “Oh, and I’d change my shoes if I were you. Those sandals aren’t going to get you far.”
An hour later they were seated in Flora Dennis’ kitchen sipping warm beer.
“Sorry, folks”, Flora said as she placed a tray of cold cuts and cheese on the table. “No fridge, so everything is warm. We need to eat this meat. It won’t last long.”
Irma laughed, helped herself to a piece of ham and folded it onto a cracker. “At least the beer won’t go bad. You can always put it in the creek to keep cool.”
“Have you heard anything?” Tony asked his neighbour. We can’t even go to town and ask because none of our vehicles will start.”
“Barry’s riding his bike down to the school”, Flora nodded. “Our cars don’t start either, and the mail truck didn’t show up this morning. Hopefully, there will be someone there who knows what’s going on.”
Tony nodded. The school was a community hall and the centre for information in the district.
“Where’s Ervin?” Tony looked around the kitchen. As usual, dishes and the detritus of daily living were piled on the counter and the floor needed a good cleaning. With five children, Flora couldn’t always keep up with all the housework. She just smiled cheerfully and said it was more important to have happy kids than a spotless house.
“He’s out in the old barn.” Flora waved her hand vaguely indicating the direction, “He’s looking to see if we have any propane for the camp stove.” She shrugged her broad shoulders. “We need to feed the brood, even without an electric range. Plus, I want to cook up as much of our meat as possible before it goes bad.”
“So, are you thinking this will last a long time?” the old man asked.
“Who knows, but I don’t want to lose all my meat. The freezer will keep it for a few days but better safe than sorry.”
Tony and Irma glanced nervously at each other. Each knew what the other was thinking. In the August heat it would be hard to keep things fresh for very long.
‘We’d better get home.” Tony stood as he swallowed the final mouthful of beer. “We need to look for more candles and some flashlights in case we need them tonight.”
“Might as well wait until Barry comes back from the school,” came a booming voice from the kitchen door. “At least we might get an idea of how widespread this power outage is. Have another be
er, Tony.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Tony sat down and placed his cap on the table in front of him. “No hurry, I guess. It doesn’t get dark until late.” He accepted another bottle of beer and leaned back in the chair.
Ervin sat down, popped a beer, and took a small boy onto his lap.
“So, what did we find in the barn, Brent? Anything useful?”
For the next few minutes, they examined the contents of a wooden box. A small propane container, a flashlight and a battered coffee pot.
“All useful things.” Ervin boomed. “Good thing I’m a packrat, hey Flora?”
She smiled back at him and lifted their baby from a crib in the corner of the cluttered kitchen. “Yep, good thing.” She gave Irma a wink. “What are you gonna do, hey Irma?”
“You want to hold the baby.” She handed the bundle over. “I don’t think you’ve seen her yet, have you?”
Eagerly, Irma reached for the baby girl. “No, I haven’t seen her. What’s her name?”
“Bella.” Flora draped a towel over her neighbour’s shoulder. “Never know when you might need that. I wanted Isabella,” she continued, “but all our kids have ‘B’ names, so we compromised.”
“That’s nice.” Irma gently stroked the soft hair that curled around the tiny ears. “I’ve only seen our grandson once.”
“Jason has a kid?” Ervin asked.
Tony answered for his distracted wife. “Yes, Jack’s about a year old now. You’d think they lived in Timbuktu instead of only 150 kilometres away in Prince George.”
“They’re busy.” Irma defended her son. “He’s got that new job and his wife is a teacher. It’s not that easy to get away.”
While they were talking, fourteen-year-old Barry returned from his exploration journey. His face was red from exertion as he rushed into the kitchen demanding water and something to eat.
“I’m starved”, he declared. “It’s a long ride to school on a bike”.
Tony surveyed the lanky teenager but refrained from mentioning his own school days when he walked the five miles each way in all kinds of weather. And uphill both ways he chuckled to himself. That was a long time ago, and in his opinion, today’s kids were too soft.
The Incident | Book 1 | They Called It The Incident Page 1