7/24/13
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
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CHAPTER ONE: The Storm
“Hurricane Z is heading directly for Franklin County and is expected to arrive in less than 24 hours,” said the TV newscaster. “The National Weather Service has upgraded the alert from a Hurricane Watch to a Hurricane Warning. All residents of Franklin County are advised to immediately evacuate the area and head to safer parts of the state. Those who can’t evacuate are urged to go quickly to one of the designated emergency shelters.”
Sarah Wilson, her husband James and their fourteen year old son Willie watched the news intently. They were directly in the path of the approaching storm. Sarah and Willie were on the edge of the sofa ready to jump up and start packing as soon as James might give the word.
Instead, James switched off the TV and said, “I don’t know why they’re trying to get everybody worked up and inconvenienced.”
“Perhaps because it’s a life-threatening situation,” offered Sarah; wondering whether acting scared or pleading would have more effect on him.
“Nah. I think we’ll be just fine right where we are. Up here on the side of this mountain is safe. No hurricane, no matter how strong, is going to blow a mountain over. But down in the city, they’re in a wide open valley where they’ll get the full force of the wind. And they’re also on low ground, not much higher than the river; so they’re likely to face some flooding too. No, we’re much more protected right here.”
“But Dad,” complained Willie, “the TV said we should evacuate.”
“Boy, you listen here. I make the decisions for this family; not the TV! You’d better learn to mind your elders, like I keep telling you, or you’re going to find yourself in a heap of trouble. Now come on outside with me. We have quite a bit to do before the storm gets here.”
Sarah’s lips tightened at the realization that James’ sharp reply to Willie was likely in response to her brief challenge of his decision. As she prepared for the approaching storm her heart pulled up its favorite words — “if only.” During her college years she had gone through a phase where she found her peers too conceited and self-centered.
“I wasn’t able to get my hair done before the cotillion,” her best-friend Tonya had said to a group of peers. “The police blocked off all the streets downtown just because some pencil-pusher shot up his office. It was so inconvenient having to do it myself.”
Sarah’s mouth had nearly dropped open, but she disguised it in time by saying, “I don’t believe this.” Tonya obviously didn’t realize the meaning because she nodded and laughed. Sarah’s bile rose even further when Richie offered his thoughts on the situation.
“You should have just called me. I can escort you across any police line. They know who I am.”
She had later come to realize she misjudged her friends. Once they settled into marriage and responsibility they quickly mellowed out. They too had just been in a stage and were experimenting with their personalities. Unfortunately she made a life-changing decision during that brief period.
Sarah had married outside her social circle despite her father’s advice, then learned in short order just how extensive social differences can be. But she resolved to adjust to them as best she could for the sake of her commitment and the sake of their son. Arguing could perhaps change him little by little, but constant conflict was too high a price to pay just to get her way. A martyr’s suffering was more honorable than a shrew’s victory. So she mostly did whatever he decided. It wasn’t being weak; it was being noble.
When they had first married they lived in a modest house in the city. James told her he wanted to be introduced into society, so she took him to a couple of social events. He then handed business cards to all the guys and made suggestive comments to all the girls. He told dirty jokes non-stop, not catching the discomfort in their laughter. And he downed drinks as if at a fraternity binge. After just two parties they no longer received invitations.
James then tried to get her father to help, but he already knew of James’ behavior and refused. Once James understood he wasn’t going to move up, he went the other direction. He bought a cabin in the woods and played up his ‘country boy’ image. He then did his best to keep Sarah from seeing her friends anymore. Sarah’s father took her to his own gatherings from time to time; but he circulated with an older group. Thankfully, his friends all loved her. They didn’t ridicule her situation, as the younger ones sometimes did; instead they admired her grace under adversity. She treasured these brief visits to her former world.
The cabin was a wood-frame house that had probably been nice when it was new. But now that it was close to fifty years old it left much to be desired. Oh how she missed a modern kitchen and a spacious bathroom. Then, no matter how much she worked, the house never felt clean. It seemed dust fell constantly through the ceiling and dirt came up through the floors within minutes of sweeping. When she first heard about the hurricane coming she secretly hoped they would go to a shelter then come back to find the place destroyed. But since they were staying, she now hoped it could hold together.
Several hours later they were as ready as they could be. The storm shutters on all the windows were closed and latched. The pick-up truck was moved from beneath the tree where it usually parked. All the loose items in the yard were picked up and put away. Every flashlight and candle, as well as the camping stove were gathered into the living room. And the refrigerator was turned as cold as it could go and set to make extra ice.
Once they were finished Sarah saw James looking at his family with satisfaction, certain he had thought of everything. He was proud of his self-sufficiency and his method of protecting the family.
The house now had an eerie atmosphere with the shutters closed. It was strange to look at the windows and not be able to see out. She hadn’t recognized until it was gone just how much ambiance a window adds to a room, even when it’s no more than the faint glow of night. Sarah pulled all the curtains closed to diminish the feeling of closeness the shutters imparted.
The wind had picked up quite a bit during the final hour of their preparations and it was just beginning to rain heavily when Sarah suggested they turn on the TV again to see the latest reports.
“Hurricane Z has increased its ground speed significantly during the past six hours and will arrive much sooner than first forecast,” said the newscaster. “In fact, the leading edge of the storm is already entering Franklin County. As we switch to our street cameras you can see the roads are now deserted. Three hours ago the governor declared a ‘state of emergency’ and ordered the highway closed to any further evacuation. This was done once it was deemed unsafe for refugees to remain in the open.”
Sarah was still listening for additional information when James switched off the TV and said, “That’s enough of that. It’s not good to watch for too long. It just builds your fear. It’s important to stay calm so you can keep your head as problems arise.”
“If only more people would actually do that,” Sarah said softly. She turned toward Willie so James couldn’t see her smile. “The best way to prevent anxiety is to stay busy. Why don’t we all go in the kitchen and fix something to eat?”
The Wilsons spent the next hour cooking whatever was the most perishable, eating leisurely and with much talking, then slowly cleaning up the dishes. Just as she had hoped, this activity kept them from growing fearful as the storm increased its ferocity.
Returning to the living room, Sarah and Willie went to their usual places on the sofa while James took his padded chair. They heard the rain now pounding so heavily it was virtually sheets falling. She found it hard to believe this was individual drops rather than a solid column of water.
The wind also was a cause of wonder and fear. The gale had all the shutters rattling vigorously. Their combined influence conveyed a faint but perceptible vibration to the house. The jingle of the shutter catches could just be heard over the noise of the tempest. Sarah crossed her fingers.
Although it was hard to imagine the wind going any faster than it already was, every so often a strong gust was felt which showed the storm still had more to give. These blasts caused the whole house to move. It wasn’t much, just a slight lifting feeling. But even a small motion in something which you hoped wouldn’t move at all was alarming. With each sway, a corresponding surge of thrill went through the three Wilsons; not unlike the sensation of passing the first crest of a roller-coaster and starting into free-fall.
Once the lights started flickering, the creases between James’ eyes showed Sarah that he was growing doubtful of the wisdom of having stayed here. She leaned forward, took two flashlights from the coffee table and switched them on. Handing one to Willie she engaged him in a game of light tag.
Presently the lights dimmed again, held for a second, then went off altogether. James waited a minute to see if the power might come back on before lighting several candles and placing them around the room. The lowered lighting increased their attention on the violence outside and heightened their anxiety.
Sarah felt a mix of regret and pity as James attempted to join in the cheerfulness to help her reassure Willie but instead made things worse. He only served to emphasize they couldn’t watch TV, listen to the radio, or use the computer. Soon they were just sitting and listening to the fury outside, praying the house held together, and counting the hours till it was over. If only they had heard a little more of the weather report they might have some idea how long it would take for the storm to pass.
Around midnight they all agreed the wind and rain were diminishing. They also hadn’t felt any house-shaking gusts for a couple of hours, so they assumed the worst had passed. Now confident their lives were no longer in jeopardy they decided to go to bed and hope for some sleep.
The family arose early. Sarah tried the light switch and found the power wasn’t back on yet. The weather was still raining and blowing, but the intensity was now not much more than a regular summer storm. They opened the front door and crowded together as they peered out to see what they could see in the soft light of the coming day.
Sarah said, “There doesn’t seem to be much damage. We’ll have to wait until the weather clears before we can go out for a proper look. But from here it appears we made it through ok. James, you were right.”
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CHAPTER TWO: The Aftermath
Although the main body of Hurricane Z had passed, the rain and wind continued sporadically. At times it would stop for nearly half an hour before resuming again for another hour.
The Wilsons came out of their cabin to see how they had fared. To their relief their hillside property was undamaged for the most part. There were a lot of leaves and small branches everywhere, but no trees had fallen. The house, too, was unharmed. Neither did they see anything obviously wrong with the power line. The problem with the electricity must be down in the city or somewhere in between.
James and his son Willie began opening all the storm shutters while Sarah went back inside and set up the camping stove to prepare breakfast. James called through the kitchen window to tell her not to open the refrigerator door any more often than she had to.
After breakfast James announced he wanted to take the pick-up truck down the road toward town to see if he could spot the power company working on the lines.
“Oh, good,” said Sarah. “It’ll be nice to get out of the house for a while. And I’d like to see what damage there is other places. Come on Willie, we’re going for a ride.”
“No,” said James. “It could be dangerous still. You two just stay here. If you want to be outside you can start raking up these leaves.” He then turned toward the truck not noticing their disappointment.
Sarah called after him, “Please stop by Mrs. Eggleston’s house and see if she’s alright.”
James gave a wave of his hand and pulled away.
He paused for a moment at the foot of their driveway before pulling onto the county road that ran across the front of the property. Turning left would take him further into the mountains and past several other isolated homes. Straight across on the opposite side of the road was a large open field which gave his home a nice panoramic view of the river below and city beyond. Just past the field the ground dropped sharply until it reached the bank of a narrow river. On the other side of the river was a large open valley. To the right the road ran somewhat parallel to the river until it descended enough to turn and bridge across it. The road then continued straight toward the city a few miles away.
Once James arrived at the bridge he came to a stop and quickly discovered the problem. The center section of the bridge had been washed out by the swollen river, and along with it a length of the electric line that crossed here to service the mountain homes. James knew it would be many days before this could be repaired.
Back at home he told Sarah and Willie of the situation. Sarah asked him what they could do now, but before he answered the rain started again and chased them back into the house. The downpour then continued the rest of the day. It was just as well; he needed time to think.
Despite the steady rain the temperature remained uncomfortably warm. Without air-conditioning the interior of the house was stifling. The rain prevented them from opening the windows and added to the humidity. James tried fanning himself with a piece of cardboard, but being hit with warm air didn’t provide much relief and the effort it took to work his arm only made him hotter. Later at dinner things got even worse.
“The meat in the freezer is beginning to thaw,” announced Sarah.
“Damn!” said James. “This is sooner than I was expecting. Well, hopefully it will keep until we can cook it all.” Then after picking up a piece of chicken and taking a bite he looked at her and asked, “Why isn’t this cooked completely?”
Sarah replied, “The camping stove has run out of fuel. It took the last of it to make dinner.”
“Damn it! Why can’t things ever go right for me?”
Later that evening, as they looked out the windows at the city in the distance below, they could see the lights were on in most sections. James felt Sarah’s eyes turn to him, but he pretended not to notice. He didn’t want to see the silent expression of, “I told you so”, that he knew would be there. Sarah then asked him if he had gone by Mrs. Eggleston’s while he was out. He told her he hadn’t had time. But the mention of her name took his thoughts in a new direction.
By the next morning the rain had let up quite a bit. Downpours would still come suddenly, but they were more infrequent. Today he would be able to check out the plan he had formed last night.
Prior setting out he stopped by the bathroom to tend to the discomfort he was feeling in his stomach, but he found the door locked. Knocking brought an answer from Sarah that she’d be out in a minute. But before she emerged Willie came up wanting to use it too. This was odd. They didn’t usually all need to go at the same time. Once Sarah came out she told James she thought they’d better throw away all the meat. While the two of them were talking Willie slipped into the bathroom behind them and locked the door. The sounds they then heard informed them Sarah was right.
A short time later, James was finally on his way. Elizabeth Eggleston, about whom Sarah had been asking was an 80 year old widow who lived in a large estate a few miles up the road. Half a century ago the place was quite impressive. Her husband had been fairly well to do and influential in local politics. Together they had raised a large family and employed a number of servants to care for the house and the extensive grounds. Now, however, she was there by herself. A maid was still engaged to come in once a week. There was also a handyman, John Farmer, who came and worked several hours each day. He kept the house in passable repair and did his best in a slowly losing battle with the spacious grounds.
John Farmer also lived alone. He had his own small place only a half mile further up the road. People sometimes asked why he didn’t just live at the estate. No one would have thought worse of them for it. In addition to the twenty year difference in their ages, everyone knew how careful they each were to maintain their social distinctions. But both he and Mrs. Eggleston preferred the present arrangement, so they kept to it.
James’ “plan” for today was to go by the Eggleston place and see if anyone was there. He had a strong suspicion that Mrs. Eggleston would have left for someplace safer and that the house would be empty. If so, he was sure he could find quite a few useful items to help his own family through this trying time. It was only because of the present emergency, he rationalized; he’d be sure to return or replace everything later.
The first thing he noticed as he went up the driveway was that Mrs. Eggleston’s van was gone. This was a good sign. She kept a large van for John Farmer to use when taking her shopping or to doctor appointments. For it to be gone now served to confirm James’ theory that she had left.
Further, there were no signs of activity in any of the windows or around the grounds. The yard and walks were still covered with leaves and branches, and Mrs. Eggleston’s rose bushes were flattened. James couldn’t imagine the place would have remained in this condition if anyone were home.
Attached to the back side of the house was a utility building. This was the focus of James’ interest. Inside was a gasoline-powered generator able to produce enough electricity for an entire house.
Seeing it James called out, “Yes! Just what we need. Now we’re finally getting a little luck!”
James retrieved a handful of tools from his truck and disconnected the generator’s leads from the house’s circuit panel. He then pushed, pulled and slid the machine inch by inch out the doorway. Next he maneuvered the pick-up into position, set in place the boards he had in the truck bed to make a ramp, then connected his hand winch between the generator and the front of the bed. After a bit of cranking, a good deal more pushing, and a lot of cursing, the generator was finally in his truck and ready to go. He closed the door to the utility building then smiled at his cleverness as he drove slowly down the driveway.
Once he arrived home he pulled behind the house and parked just a few feet from his own electrical panel. Willie came out to see why he had driven in back so he was drafted into helping unload.
James knew to pull the electric meter out of its box on the wall in order to keep the generator’s current from flowing backwards out to the main lines. But as he cut the wire seal on the meter box Willie spoke up.
“The power company won’t like you tampering with their meter.”
James couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice, “Boy, don’t question my actions. Ever! This is an emergency, so it’s okay. When are you going to learn to respect your elders?” He sent Willie back into the house, then wired the generator leads into the panel.
Feeling he was ready, he uttered one last curse at the machine then cranked it up. After watching the electric panel for a minute to make sure it wasn’t going to catch on fire, he turned and ran into the house to see the results.
Immediately upon entering he saw the lights on, he heard the refrigerator running, and he felt a draft of deliciously cool air already coming from the vents. He turned and looked for Sarah so he could hear her rejoice with him. But she was nowhere to be seen.
James turned to Willie and asked, “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s sick,” answered Willie. “She’s been vomiting ever since you left. She’s resting in the bedroom.”
Sarah looked terrible, but as James came in she tried to hide it. Sitting up she smiled. “I see you got the lights on. How’d you do it?”
“I found a generator,” he said grinning. Not pausing to ask how she felt, he continued, “I stopped by the Eggleston place, like you told me, and there it was.”
“You took it from Mrs. Eggleston?” Sarah asked with concern.
“It’s OK. She wasn’t home. She’s gone somewhere else to ride out the storm. So she didn’t need it. Don’t worry. I’ll give it back when we’re finished with it.”
“As long as you’re sure. It’s smart of you to be able to hook it up. And it’s nice to have electric again.”
James beamed at hearing her praise him. “Come on. Let’s go turn on the TV and see what’s happening.” He then rushed out of the room without waiting for her.
“The governor has declared martial law for Franklin County and deployed the National Guard,” said the newscaster. “A nighttime curfew is in effect as well. Residents are advised to promptly comply with all instructions of police officers and national guardsmen. The order for martial law comes in response to the continued looting and rioting in the southern quarter of the city. The governor justifies this drastic measure by pointing to yesterday’s killing of three policemen by rioters.”
James looked at Sarah and Willie and said, “Now aren’t you glad we’re not down there?” He then turned back to the TV.
“Most of the city is calm as people slowly clean up and recover from Hurricane Z. The turmoil is limited to the southern quarter. Authorities speculate the situation grew out of an unfortunate combination of circumstances. That area was the only section of the city to remain without electricity even after it was restored to all other parts. Then the increased police presence sent in response to the looting of several stores served to increase tensions. Finally yesterday, as word spread of illness breaking out among large numbers of people in the affected area, and the perception of an inadequate response by medical personnel, the neighborhood erupted in violence. As police moved in to restore order three officers were ambushed. Even more disturbing was a report that the rioters then mutilated the bodies of the fallen men. One witness claims to have seen two attackers running away with an officer’s severed limb; but this hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
“I knew it!” said James. “Haven’t I been telling you all along? As soon as they said they were going to name that storm ‘Hurricane Z’, I said it was a bad omen. First it was unlucky to have so many tropical storms in one season. Then it was foolish to ignore the warnings of all those books and movies about zombies. It’s retribution, cosmic retribution, I tell you.”
James looked toward Sarah to see if she was agreeing, but saw she had passed out. “I guess the news was too intense, huh?”
Willie answered, “No. I think it’s the food poisoning getting worse. Dad, how come it’s affecting her so much more than it did us?”
“People’s immune systems react differently to diseases. You must have gotten my strength. But your mother didn’t have much for herself. Well, help me carry her back to bed. Maybe she’ll be better by tomorrow. There, you take her feet.”
After putting Sarah to bed, James prepared a simple lunch for Willie and himself. It was little more than opening some canned soup and eating it unheated. Afterwards he took his shotgun from the closet and headed for the front door.
“You stay here and watch your mother. I’m going to drive down to the bridge to see if they’ve started repairing it yet. We may need to get your mother to a doctor somehow if she doesn’t get better soon.”
“Why do you need the gun?” asked Willie.
“With all those crazy things happening, I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Once James left, Willie thought about turning on the TV again, but instead went to check on his mother. He found her still unconscious. Then as he reached to stroke a strand of hair away from her face he felt she had a fever. He went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and brought it back to place on her forehead. A few minutes later he heard his father come in and slam the door so he went to meet him.
“It’s happening, son!” said James quivering. “The zombie apocalypse has started. I just saw one.”
“You saw one what? A zombie?!”
“Yeah. A real live zombie. When I got to the bridge I got out of the truck so I could walk out and see if there was anyone on the other side. But there was a zombie out there at the end where the span is missing. I don’t know how it got there. Must have come across from the city. I guess it heard me. It turned and raised its arms out in front of it, like it wanted to grab me. Then it started to come toward me. But it wasn’t walking normal. It was dragging its leg behind it like in the movies.”
“What’d you do? How close did it get?”
“It must have been about 50 yards away. I wasn’t going to let it get close. So I gave it a load of buckshot. Then I jumped in the truck and high-tailed it back here. I tell you, I’ve never been so scared in my life!”
For the first hour James couldn’t relax. He’d go from room to room and look out each of the windows. He wanted to be sure nothing was approaching from any direction. He kept his shotgun with him even though he was locked securely indoors.
By the second hour, however, the adrenaline had dissipated and he was beginning to feel fatigued. So he leaned the shotgun against the wall by the front door and sat down in his easy chair. He told Willie to sit by the living room window and watch down the driveway. He was to call out if he saw anything.
A little before dark they heard a loud roar passing overhead. James rushed to the window and stood beside Willie. Together they saw a large helicopter setting down in the open field across from the end of their driveway. The helicopter was colored olive-drab and had a white star on the side. Below the star was printed “National Guard”.
The chopper’s side door slid open and eight soldiers jumped out holding M-16 rifles. They divided into two groups then began running up the edges of James’ property coming toward the house.
“Uh oh, Dad. It looks like you’ve done it now.”
“Shut up, boy!”
Soon they heard someone calling to them, “Attention, all occupants of the house: Come out slowly and with your hands in the air.”
Realizing he’d better not resist, James walked to the door, motioned for Willie to follow, then with a sigh unlocked it and went out. Once he was in the yard and Willie in the doorway, four men rushed up, two from each side. He and Willie were pushed to the ground, their arms twisted behind their backs, and their wrists bound with zip-ties looped together. They were then lifted to their feet and two more came up and began leading them down the driveway while the first four entered the house.
Behind him James heard them calling out to each other. “We have a gun here.” Then, “We have a casualty.” He figured they had just found Sarah. Hopefully now she would get the care she needed. Then a few moments later, “The house is secured. Bring up a stretcher.”
Once the helicopter landed at the national guard’s staging area Sarah was taken by ambulance to the hospital and Willie was released to his grandfather. James was taken to a military jail.
Eventually an attorney came to speak with him and James was informed that he was to be tried before a military tribunal due to the offense having occurred during a state of martial law. James asked why it was a crime to shoot a zombie.
“Mr. Wilson,” said the lawyer, “that wasn’t a zombie. There’s no such thing. Are you wanting to go for an insanity plea?”
“What of the news report that folks were killing people, chopping up their bodies and running around with the pieces?”
“Oh, that was just a rumor. Nothing to it.”
“Well if the thing I shot wasn’t a zombie, what was it?”
“It was a man who had been injured during the storm. He was talking with some bridge workers on the opposite side of the river. He had been trying to arrange for a rescue when you came up. It was the workers who reported the shooting and called for help.”
“Oh, no,” moaned James. “Is the fellow alright?”
The lawyer stared at him a moment before answering. “You don’t know?”
“I didn’t wait around at the time. And I haven’t been told anything else until you came in.”
“The man died. Once you shot him he fell into the river. He didn’t have a chance. I tell you something more, there is a very strong case against you. His body was recovered downstream, so they have that evidence. They have the gun that was used, still loaded with the same kind of ammunition; found in your house and with your fingerprints. Plus they have the eyewitness testimony of the bridge workers who saw the whole thing. It’s pretty air-tight. So perhaps your insanity plea is the best angle after all.”
“I don’t want people saying I’m insane.”
“That would be better than dying, wouldn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? They’re charging it as a capital offense.”
James was stunned. After a few minutes he looked up and said, “My luck is continuing to hold, I see.”
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CHAPTER THREE: The Journal
Journal #7 of Elizabeth Eggleston.
Sep 1: Today I began a new journal because yesterday I used the last
page in Journal #6. What an eventful time there is today to make the first
entry. A hurricane is coming and will be here by tonight.
We heard on TV the call to evacuate to safer areas. But with my condition it would be impossible to stay away from my machine so long. This house is sturdy so I’m sure it will hold.
I asked John Farmer if he would stay here in the manor house for the duration of the storm, and eventually he agreed. At first he objected, “Propriety requires I keep to my own residence.” I allowed that he was correct, generally speaking. But in times of emergency, temporary concessions must be made as necessity demands. He’ll take a room in the old housekeepers wing. I told him to use the van to go retrieve the things he’ll need. This will be best for both of us, I’m sure.
– – –
Sep 2: We made it! We had a pretty noisy night of it. But we’re still alive. And John Farmer tells me the house is okay. The electricity is off. Probably a downed line in town. Fortunately we have the generator. It’s saving us. When I had the medical machine installed here ten years ago, they told me I should install a back-up generator as well, for just this type of emergency. I’m glad for that foresight.
In conference with John Farmer I’ve decided we’ll only operate it part time. This will allow us to hold out much longer than running it constantly. Three hours first thing in the morning and three hours in the evening. We’ve chosen 6:00 to 9:00, both a.m. and p.m. This will be enough to keep the refrigerators cold and for the air-conditioner to cool the house sufficiently to stay comfortable. I’ll also take my treatments during these periods. I can watch the TV news while sitting still for the machine. I believe this is a sound plan that will carry us through.
I look for Sarah Wilson to stop by sometime today. She’s such a sweet girl. I know she’ll be concerned for me. I’d like to know she’s okay, too. When she comes I’ll invite her and her family to stay here until things get back to normal. The manor house has plenty of rooms. Plus our generator and well-stocked pantry will keep them contented. I’ve asked John Farmer to open a couple of the guest rooms so they’ll already be aired out if Sarah should agree. Oh I do hope she’ll say yes.
John Farmer just returned and informed me there’s a new water spot on the ceiling in one of the guest rooms. He suspects a roof tile may have blown off during the night. I told him not to worry himself with it until the weather has cleared. He answered that the more water which gets in, the more damage there will be to fix later. He intends to get some tiles out of storage and climb up there once there’s a break in the rain. He can be strong willed at times.
Oh, Lord! I told him he shouldn’t have. I told him he shouldn’t. John Farmer fell off the roof. The rain stopped a little while ago. He then did what he said he would and put up some new tiles. But coming down he slipped.
I heard a commotion outside. So I went to the door to see what it was, and I found him spread eagle in the rose bed. You should have heard me scream. I thought he was dead. He called out to me that he was alright. But it took him a long time to get up. We neither one think anything is broken. He is limping pretty badly though. And he’s covered with cuts and scratches top to bottom. I believe he got injured more by the roses than by the fall.
There weren’t nearly enough bandages in the first aid box. So I found an old sheet and cut it into strips. It reminded me of so long ago when I did this for the war effort. By the time we had all his wounds salved and bandaged he was feeling a good bit better. Plus by then the shock of the accident had worn off for both of us, so we had a good laugh. Then to see the way we had him all trussed up we could hardly contain ourselves. White strips and little spots of blood from head to toe. You’d think he was going out for Tricks-or-Treats. My, he looks a sight!
I do hope Sarah comes by soon. With both of us here barely able to hobble around now, it would be a great help to have their younger hands. I wonder if perhaps her family left before the storm.
– – –
Sep 3: John Farmer isn’t feeling well today. I think the fall may have shaken him up inside more than we both realized at first. It would be best if we could get him to the hospital to be checked over. If they should want to keep him, however, I don’t believe I could make it here alone. So I may just have to go along with him. We plan to discuss it further after breakfast.
We completed our new morning routine of turning on the generator, having breakfast, taking my treatment, watching the news, and turning off the generator. I must say I’m shocked at what I see happening in the city. Disgraceful! It’s only in the one quarter, but still. Back when Charles was alive no one would have dared behave that way. I don’t know what the world is coming to. It’s a different age, I guess.
Too many people have forgotten the importance of authority. They no longer respect their place in society, and it is leading to a breakdown of civil behavior. Only as each member of the community honors the obligations of his role in the social order, can the populace have peace. As ever-more people violate the boundaries of their station, there is ever-decreasing happiness in the commonwealth. The public needs a social structure!
John Farmer has taken the van out to look for some way to get to town. He plans to first take the mountain road all the way up to the old wagon fords. Perhaps the river will be shallow enough to drive the van across. If so, he’ll come back and get me. We both doubt it, though. After all this rain the river is probably running too high.
In that case, he’ll come back this way and go down to the bridge. There may be someone working on it by now. It certainly won’t be finished yet. But perhaps there is someone who can notify the authorities we need help. The emergency services should have some way to deal with situations like ours.
Then again, public services are no longer what they once were. Politicians these days have forgotten their obligations to the public trust, and to those appointed to steer their actions. Instead, they’ve degraded to self-seeking, and serving whichever special interest pays the most.
My dear Charles, rest his soul, gave his life and strength in service to the common good through all his years. Then, after he passed, I continued his task, faithful to the duties that had fallen to us. But we neither one sought our own gain. We just did what was required of our position; as have our fathers before us. Only by thinking beyond ourselves can society continue.
Someday soon my place must be filled by another. At times I’m tempted to despair that this new generation will let society fail. But then I see the nascent nobility and wisdom in Sarah and a few others like her, and I feel there’s still hope.
John Farmer has been gone for hours. He should have returned long ago. It’s well past 6:00. I’ve flipped the switch many times trying to start the generator, but it’s not coming on. I’m not able to go out and check on it. Even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to do to fix it.
So here I am — I’m overdue for my treatment, and it’s not taking long for the symptoms to flare up. As if that’s not enough, I’m sitting in the dark, I’m not able to get out, and no one knows I’m here. I haven’t been in a situation like this since the war.
– – –
Sep 4: I’m in trouble. I’ve missed another treatment and it won’t be much longer until I succumb. Something has happened to John Farmer or he’d have returned by now. I wish I knew where he was. I wish I knew why Sarah doesn’t come.
I’m weakening by the minute. I can barely hold the pen. I’m coming, Charles.
.
CHAPTER FOUR: The Trials
“Please state your name for the record,” said the prosecutor.
“Willie Wilson.”
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Please sit down. You are the son of the accused, James Wilson, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that your father has been charged with causing the deaths of two individuals following the recent hurricane and is now on trial for his life?”
“Yes.”
“We’d like for you to answer a few questions. Okay?”
Willie looked toward his father and noticed him very faintly shaking his head. “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. He’s my father and I can’t say anything against him.” Willie saw his father smile.
“Perhaps you are thinking of the law which says your mother doesn’t have to testify because she is his wife. Unfortunately there isn’t a similar law to keep a son from testifying.”
“Please, your honor,” Willie said turning to the judge. “Do I have to?”
Judge Norman Holmes looked at him kindly, “You understand, don’t you, the importance of cooperating with those in authority?”
“Yes, sir. My dad always says I have to obey my elders, especially him. But, … Hey! You’re even older, so I should obey you more. Right?”
“Yes,” smiled the judge. “That’s right. Now tell us what happened.”
“What do you want to know?” Willie looked to his father to see approval, but instead his face was red.
“You have already heard the case proving that James Wilson killed John Farmer,” said the prosecutor. “You have also heard his claim that it was self-defense because he believed Mr. Farmer was a, humph, zombie. Willie, you saw your father and heard his comments immediately after the incident. Tell us how he appeared at that moment. Do you believe your father really thinks that was a zombie?”
“No. From the way he described it, that would be more like a mummy.”
“The second charge stems from the discovery of Elizabeth Eggleston’s body. It has been shown that her death was a direct result of her life-supporting generator being stolen. Now, Willie, again you were the first person to see your father immediately after the occurrence. Tell us, what was his attitude when you first saw him?”
“He said it was okay to do wrong because of the emergency.”
“I see. Then once he had connected the generator, what was the first thing he did with his stolen electricity?”
“He stood under the air-conditioning and watched TV.”
“So, watching TV in comfort was more important to him than Mrs. Eggleston’s life! Wasn’t it? Then he had to get rid of the one person who could recognize her generator — John Farmer. Didn’t he?”
The questions continued like this a while longer. There had been a lot of testimony given already. They had even read Elizabeth Eggleston’s final journal entries into the record. Willie was the last one called, so once they were finished with him the judge gave some final comments to the jurors.
Being a military tribunal rather than a regular trial the jurors were just three military officers instead of the usual six civilians. Their time for deliberation was reduced as well. So in less than an hour a verdict was given.
“James Wilson,” said the judge. “You have been found guilty of the deaths of John Farmer and Elizabeth Eggleston. Furthermore, since your acts were committed during a period of martial law you are subject to the death penalty. Your means of execution is to be lethal injection, carried out at the earliest date the prison finds convenient. Do you understand everything I’ve just told you?”
Willie’s father didn’t answer right away. In fact, the entire courtroom was silent. It had been known all along that the death penalty was at stake. But hearing it actually imposed came like a hammer blow. Willie hid his face in his mother’s chest. He couldn’t help but feel partly to blame. His grandfather reached across from the other side and stroked his head.
Presently James asked, “As soon as convenient? Don’t I get ten years to appeal?”
“No, sir,” said the judge. “This is a special tribunal. Ordinary procedures don’t apply. Are there any other questions?”
Willie’s mother turned to her father and said, “Daddy! Please, can’t you do something?”
Willie’s grandfather, Zachary Harding, rose to address the judge. A observer of their casual demeanor toward each other might have formed the impression they were not strangers.
“Your honor, as a representative of the state courts I would like to offer a bit of counsel, if I may. You will recall that the governor of this state has issued a declaration on how this and the other martial law cases related to the hurricane are to be ordered. It states that anyone charged with martial offenses will face military tribunals, while anyone charged with regular offenses will go through the civilian judicial system. James Wilson has now been tried for his martial crimes, but he has not yet had a trial for any of the regular charges there may be against him. May I recommend to the court that his capital sentence be delayed until after it is determined if the state has any charges for which to try him?”
“Point well taken,” said the judge. “Mr. Wilson, your sentence here will not be carried out until the state judicial system has finished with you. Court adjourned.”
Willie’s dad was soon transferred to a civilian holding center since it was learned that the state had just filed a case against him. He was being charged with “looting” for taking the generator during a state of emergency. His case was marked “expedite” so his trial was scheduled soon afterward. Only a few insightful individuals suspected an unseen hand behind the scenes bringing such swift and remarkable happenings.
At the trial for looting Willie’s father was again found guilty. That was no surprise to anyone. But the thing that was unusual was the sentence imposed on him by the circuit judge.
“James Wilson, please rise for sentencing,” said the judge. “You are hereby ordered to serve one year in a state prison prior to being returned to the military judicial system for imposition of their penalty.
“Further, your prison term is suspended indefinitely pending the successful completion of a period of probation. That is, so long as you are fully complying with all the requirements of the state corrections department, you will not be sent to prison. However, if a probation officer determines you are in violation of the terms of your probation, you will be immediately taken to a state prison to serve your term. In that event, upon completion of your time in state prison you will then be turned over to the military for execution of their sentence.
“One final thing, your period of probation, so long as you are successfully complying with it, is hereby set at 40 years. Court adjourned.”
It took several moments before the full implication of this sank in for Willie. What it meant, practically speaking, was that so long as his father stayed on the straight-and-narrow, he wouldn’t be turned over to the military for the remainder of his natural lifetime.
Willie was ecstatic. He leaned across his mother and hugged his grandfather. “Thanks, Grampa.”
His mother, too, hugged her father and said, “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”
Grandpa just looked down at them with a ‘Mona Lisa’ smile on his face.
.
CHAPTER FIVE: Penance
Zachary Harding had already interacted with most of the other guests at the Governor’s reception when he saw Norman Holmes standing outside on the mansion’s patio enjoying a large cigar. Zachary picked up two new drinks then went out to join his friend. The evening air already bore signs of approaching Spring. The temperature was cool but not unpleasant, and the slight breeze was scented with the fragrance of honey and new grass.
“Good evening, Norman. It’s nice out tonight,” he said handing him one of the glasses.
“Hello, Zachary. Yes, I was just enjoying some fresh air. How have you been?”
“I’m well. Thank you. I’ve been meaning to get with you for quite some time now. I wanted to express my appreciation for your help on that tribunal case last Fall.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. It was my pleasure. Did everything work out for you?”
“Yes. Even better than expected.”
“Well then, I guess some good came out of it all. I was prepared to let that fellow pay for what he did, you know. Mrs. Eggleston was an amazing lady and she’ll be missed. It’ll be a long time before there’s another like her.”
“I know. Half the people here this evening owe their positions to her; including ‘his honor’ in there.”
“Mm, hm.”
“I too was going to just let it play out the way you intended. But Sarah asked for help; so I spoke up. It was important to her, apparently.”
“Yes. For Sarah’s sake. That’s a good reason. You know, it’s too bad your Sarah was never interested in my Robert. They would have made a nice couple. She’d have been a lot better for him than that digger he was stuck with for a while.”
Zachary nodded. “That match would have been better for Sarah too. Unfortunately she was put off by the young men in her circle at the time. If her mother had still been around she could have taught her that youthful exuberance and high ideals fall away once they’re touched by real life.”
They both sat silent a moment sipping their drinks before Zachary continued. “Instead she was taken in by a flatterer. A handsome, smooth talker, with that coarse attractiveness you sometimes see in the working class. They met while she was on a community service project for college.”
“Robert too,” said Norman. “What is this attraction to ‘slumming’ so many of our kids feel? It’s their teachers filling them with ideas of ‘classless societies’. But good breeding, or lack thereof, shows through soon enough. The honeymoon wasn’t over before that girl was making impossible demands. I knew how to put a stop to it, though. As soon as I cut the money off, she left for someone else.”
Zachary gave a soft snort. “Can you believe Sarah’s guy actually asked to come to functions like this? Once he saw that wouldn’t happen, his attitude toward Sarah changed. The compliments stopped and he showed his true nature. The more she tried appeasing him, the more domineering he became.”
Norman nodded, “That never works. Giving in doesn’t make them happy, it only makes them worse.”
“Sarah didn’t find it easy to be under that type of control. Her mother and I had taught her differently. There were several times that first year she came close to calling it quits.” Zachary inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly through gritted teeth. “Then, wouldn’t you know it, just after she informed her mother she was ready to divorce, she learned she was expecting. So she decided that for the sake of the baby she’d endure anything.”
Norman looked over at Zachary, “You know, it’s not too late for me to bring him back before the panel and carry out that sentence. It would only take a phone call.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary. He’s already learning his attitude has to go,” Zachary said with a grin. “You see, when they first married I didn’t interfere. Although I didn’t like his ways, Sarah had made her choice. Plus, a man has a right to decide for himself if he wants his home life to be peaceful or combative. But once he placed himself under the authority of the judicial system, that changed everything. This was an opportunity too good to miss. Correction is now being applied and he’s finding for himself just what it’s like to be under tight control.”
Norman was chuckling in anticipation even before Zachary finished speaking. “Oh, ho! Tell me. How did you let him know? And what was his reaction?”
“Well, once he was released Sarah brought him over to thank me. After mumbling some sort of nonsense he told Sarah he was ready to leave. She objected and said she wanted to stay longer. He was on the verge of asserting himself in his usual way when he caught a look at my expression. His voice cut off and his face went pale. I could see the wheels turning. It took a minute, but at last he realized he’s now in a new position. There’s a ‘Sword of Damocles’ over his head and I hold its thread.”
“I wish I could have seen it. Of course it’s not hard to picture from your description.” Then with a lift of his chin and a twinkle in his eye, “I suppose he now finds Sarah’s happiness to be vitally important, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, yes,” said Zachary. “She only needs to say, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to …’ whatever; and no matter what it is, he’s jumping to do it.”
“Well, good. It couldn’t happen to a nicer girl. And I know Sarah is too kind to take advantage of him. He should consider himself lucky to have such a considerate wife. Of course, if that sword should ever fall, I hope you know I’ll be inviting Sarah over to some of Robert’s gatherings.”
“Oh, I intend to get Sarah back to associating with her circle even without waiting for that. You know I have often taken Sarah to functions I attend, because with my wife gone I need her help. But she hasn’t been able to go out with her own peers. That’s going to change now.”
“He didn’t want her to see what she’s been missing,” said Norman. “Knows he can’t compete.”
“Yes. But he underestimates her honor. She’ll be true to her vow. As long as he lives.”
“Of course. Well, I see you have the situation under control. Good for you.”
The two men sat quiet for several minutes. The waltzes and joyful chatter behind them were occasionally punctuated by the rougher laughs of the chauffeurs echoing up from the far end of the driveway. Norman puffed slowly at his cigar while Zachary sipped his drink and stared into the clear evening sky. Eventually Norman broke the silence again.
“I wonder what will become of Mrs. Eggleston’s place. I suppose one of her children will move in. Though I have no idea how they’ll settle which one will get it. That could even turn into a fight. What? What are you smiling about? I know that impish grin means you have something up your sleeve. Come on, then, out with it.”
“You’re right they wanted to do something with it,” said Zachary. “It’s too nice a place not to. But as you said, with so many of them grabbing they couldn’t agree which one would get it. So they decided the only way to divide it equally was to sell.”
“Don’t tell me. You?!”
“Mm, hm. It’s mine now. I have a contractor in there already updating the old furnishings. I figure it’s been far too long since the last great fete was held there. It’s time for a new hostess to hold court in that grand marble hall ablaze beneath those gleaming chandeliers.”
“Hostess? You mean Sarah? My god, that’s brilliant. With her in charge of that setting it won’t be just her own group fawning over her. She’ll be the envy of the whole state.”
Zachary nodded in agreement with his friend’s assessment. He felt his throat tighten briefly and a mist passed over his eyes. His Sarah would finally get the recognition she deserved. No more being shut away from her rightful place in society. He was going to make sure of that while he still had the means to do so.
“Everyone, everyone, will be trying to get into her good graces,” continued Norman. “The significance of that house won’t go unnoticed. Most folks remember where they got their start. You just hold the right parties with the right guests, and in a few years she’ll be set. If you play this right, she could even end up being the new Mrs. Eggleston; the one to see for endorsement before getting any state office.”
Zachary nodded again, smiling more broadly than before. “Now you’re getting it.”
“But you still have Sarah’s country boy to deal with. As you’ve already mentioned, he won’t fit in.”
“Oh, he won’t be inside at all. I’ve already spoken with him; not about the parties, of course. That’s not his affair. But that place has extensive grounds which need more than one man to keep them up. I’ll be adding an entire crew. So I spoke to him about being my head of maintenance and groundskeeping.”
“You didn’t,” Norman gasped. “You asked him to be your gardener! How did he take that?”
“He was excited,” Zachary laughed. “He thinks this is an advance over his present job. He even believes it will give him an opportunity to finally meet society people. He wants to keep staying in his old cabin down the road, of course, and just come to work everyday.”
“He would,” sneered Norman.
“I’ll also be putting on a large domestic staff as well. Sarah can see to that. As I’m sure you may anticipate, it won’t be long before I’ll need Sarah to stay at the house most of the time. I also expect there will soon be some reason for little Willie, um William, to stay there too.”
“Well, you’re just full of surprises. You’ve been busy since we last spoke. I’ll have to meet with you more often, just to keep up.”
“Since you want to stay on top of things, what do you think of this idea? How about we push to make Robert governor in a couple of years? I’m serious. That fellow inside won’t last much longer. Talk to Robert about it. Hmm?”
“Already planning a new regime?”
“It will only happen if we make it happen. Are you game?”
“Sure, I’m in. What’s the plan?”
“We begin by mentioning to our circle that it’s about time for a change of administration,” said Zachary. “When they ask why, there are any number of reasons. Don’t you feel his actions during the hurricane were a bit draconian? Wasn’t it his slow response that led to the riots and the policemen’s deaths? Don’t you feel there’s a lot of lingering resentment about the military tribunals and the executions?” Seeing Norman’s fingers squeeze his glass slightly, he quickly added, “He’s the one who ordered them, after all. Then when they ask about alternatives we hint the smart money is looking toward Robert.”
“That’s good,” agreed Norman. “But instead of open announcements and public accusations, let’s use a whispering campaign. Once talk is buzzing among the upper ranks and the influential, the newspapers will get wind of it quick enough. Reporters are more tenacious if they think they’re exposing secrets rather than printing press releases. Their stories will then bring over the general public.”
“Right. Very smart,” Zachary said. “Now once Robert is governor, whenever anyone approaches him about a favor or a political appointment he should ask them if they have Sarah’s endorsement. That strengthens the idea that potential appointees must first pass her. This will solidify her as the new ‘kingmaker’.”
“Do you think there will be any difficulty getting people to accept Sarah in that position?”
“No. I don’t think so. It will actually help our purpose that she has been out of circulation, so to speak. Her peers remember her as one of their class; but none of them can claim to be a particularly close friend. So there’s recognition without a sense of familiarity.”
“Yes, I see. Play up the mystique of restricted access.”
“Plus, our circle already knows and likes her. And we still hold enough strings to make the younger ones go along.”
“I see,” said Norman. “All the while you and I will just stay quietly to the side, validating her role and occasionally advising her on the best options. Good, good. I like it.”
“But there’s a lot to do yet,” said Zachary. “You need to get Robert a campaign manager and I must finish the house. Plus a hundred other things. It wouldn’t do for talk to begin before we’re ready.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” said Norman. “We need to align our friends and get that circle in there solidly behind Robert, and behind Sarah. I think that big fete you’re planning would be the best time to start. When do you think the house will be finished?”
“I believe next September would be good. That will be the anniversary of the hurricane, so certain events will naturally come to people’s minds. Plus it gives us a year after talk begins to build Robert’s name for the election.”
“It’s settled then,” said Norman. “I also think I’ll just buy up a good bit of that vacant land along the mountain road before your soiree turns that area into society’s new hot spot.”
Zachary raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to kings, and to kingmakers, and to kingmaker-makers.”
“Hear, hear,” said Norman; and they both drained their glasses.
“Now,” said Zachary, “let’s go mingle and start building anticipation for the upcoming ‘party of the year’.”
. . .
THE END
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