CHAPTER 24

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday, October 12th

Central Wyoming

Day 40

My head is still spinning. Last night when I stopped for the evening I saw a home all lit up like how things were before Sept. 2nd. I hadn’t seen electric lights for a month and my feet got ahead of my brain. I got so excited thinking that everything was fixed and I’d be able to get back to you quicker and maybe be able to talk to you on the phone. But that’s not how it turned out. It was a bitter disappointment, making today one of the hardest days so far. I didn’t cover many miles, and it was hard to motivate myself to keep going, especially with the never-ending hills. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it. Right now you all seem so far away. If I knew that you were safe, it would lift a huge weight off of my shoulders. I have to think positive and hope for the best.

 

I love you all.

 

Deer Creek, Montana

After checking on the boys, Jennifer had closed the door at the top of the stairs and started down the hall to her bedroom when she heard a noise coming from Emma’s bedroom. She stopped and slowly pushed the door open, peering inside for the source of the sound. Emma rolled over in bed and looked towards the door. “Hi, Mom,” she whispered.

“Hi girl. Why are you still awake? You went to bed an hour ago.”
“I can’t sleep,” she whimpered.
“Are you crying?” Emma didn’t reply, but Jennifer could hear her sniffing. “What’s wrong, Em?”

Emma rolled back over and faced away from the door, so Jennifer tiptoed in and sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetie? What is it?”

Emma, as she started to sob, turned back to her mother, who lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay, Emma. I’m right here. What’s going on?”

Jennifer heard Emma take in a deep breath and then let it slowly out. “I don’t like the nights, Mom.”
“You don’t like the what?”
“I don’t like the nights.”
“What do you mean, you don’t like the nights?”
“I don’t. I hate them. I want the sun to shine all the time.”
“But that’s impossible, Emma. You know that. How come you’ve started hating nighttime so much?”

Jennifer could feel Emma shrug her shoulders. “I don’t know. I just do. It just gets so dark now. It’s like I’m lost in a cave that I can’t get out of. I had a dream the other night, and I woke up and I was scared, but it was so dark I didn’t even know if my eyes were open.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I’m just down the hall.”

“I was scared. The dream was about you -- that you left, and it was just me and David and Spencer here, and there was something in the house. I didn’t want to make any noise.” Emma started to cry again, and Jennifer pulled her daughter tight against her.

“Oh, Emma. I promise I will never leave you. If you have a bad dream again, just call me. Okay?”

“Can I have a candle in here? So it’s not so dark?”

“No, honey, you can’t. We only have a couple left. And even if we had a lot, it would be too dangerous to keep it lit while we sleep. Do you want me to sleep in here with you tonight?”

Jennifer could sense Emma nodding, so she pulled the blankets back and slid under the covers. “I already had my pajamas on. This’ll be good. Just the girls, huh?”

Emma laughed softly. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I remember when your Aunt Tracy and I used to share a room. Sometimes we’d stay up past midnight talking. She was a good big sister, and we always had a lot of fun.”

“Can I have a sister?”
“You want a sister?”
Emma laughed again. “I do. I’d be a good big sister.”

“I know you would. You know, Dad and I tried to have more kids, but I had some medical problems, and the doctor said I couldn’t have any more after Spencer was born. He even said Spencer was a miracle. Maybe we could steal a little girl though, what do you think?”

“Mom, don’t be silly. We can’t do that, and Spencer is no miracle; he’s a pain in the neck.”
It was Jennifer’s turn to laugh. “I thought you said you’d be a good big sister.”
“I meant for a girl, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see how it is. So if he was a girl, you’d like him more?”
“Probably. Cause he’d be nicer if he was a girl.”

“Well, just be glad you’ve got him. Things would be awfully quiet if he wasn’t around.” They laughed some more and talked about the things they missed most since the event, until finally Jennifer saw a sliver of moon peek through the window.

“I can see the moon, little girl. We should probably go to sleep.”
“Do you think tomorrow will be the day?” Emma asked, ignoring her mother.
“What day is that?”
“The day Dad gets home. Do you think tomorrow will be the day?”
“I don’t know.” Jennifer swallowed hard. “I hope so…but I don’t know.”

“I think that’s what I hate about the night the most -- that Dad didn’t come home. As long as the sun’s up, I tell myself he might still come home, but when it gets dark…” Her voice trailed off and Jennifer heard a sniffle.

“I hate the night too, Emma. I feel the very same way. Maybe tomorrow will be the day. Pinky swear with me that you won’t give up on your dad?” Jennifer felt the bed jiggle as Emma nodded her head. Their hands found each other in the darkness, and they linked pinkies and shook. “I love you, Emma. Let’s go to sleep and dream some happy dreams. Okay?”

 

Friday, October 14th

Deer Creek, Montana

Six weeks after “the event,” life for Jennifer had been reduced to a steady diet of predictable drudgery punctuated with regular doses of spirit-draining anxiety. Seven days a week most of her waking hours were spent pursuing survival -- trying to locate and store enough food to last them a day, a week, a month. In addition to the hunt for food, there was also the struggle to secure the fuel to cook the food and to keep the family safe and warm.

With bedtime commencing at sundown due to the lack of light, many mornings Jennifer and the kids would wake up well before dawn, but stay in bed and savor the warmth and security of their blankets while waiting for the sun to rise and the daily rituals to begin again.

The first item of the day was getting dressed, which too often required putting on the same clothes that had been worn for the past two, or three, or sometimes more days. Having clean clothes every day was a luxury that was now a distant memory. Instead, laundry was done by hand every couple of weeks at a makeshift laundromat set-up in the community using a large tub of water heated on an open fire and with just barely enough laundry soap to make suds.

Breakfast was the next item on the agenda and, thanks to the Andersons next door, theirs was better than what most people in the community enjoyed. The menu varied from day to day, but might consist of a small portion of fresh berries, sometimes canned peaches or applesauce, or a few fresh vegetables. They ate oatmeal once or twice a week, and when David was paid for working at the ranch, which he did most days, payment was made in grains, eggs, meat, and the occasional container of milk, which was always a welcome treat.

The Anderson’s garden was nearly at the end of production, but with a delayed first frost there was still an abundance of produce that Grace was harvesting, allowing for tomatoes, peas, lettuce, and other vegetables to account for a good portion of their diet as well. Lunch was similar to breakfast, and dinner consisted of any meat they had as well as any food that Jacob May might have collected during one of the scavenging trips in his truck. For filler, Jennifer made up simple, whole-wheat biscuits, and cooked them in the old Dutch Oven she’d retrieved from their camping supplies. All of the family had lost weight, but they weren’t starving, which meant a lot, and had adjusted without too much complaint to their new routine.

Beyond their search for food, Emma attended school four days a week, Spencer and Jennifer had playgroup three times, David did his work at the farm, and council and community meetings usually occupied three or four of Jennifer’s afternoons. A community lending library, with a variety of books available to borrow, had been started, along with game groups, dance groups, craft groups and a number of other venues that gave people a chance to get together in the evenings. On Sunday mornings, two different families hosted church services, and while attendance was rumored to be increasing each week, Jennifer hadn’t yet felt compelled to participate.

Late evening was the loneliest time of day for Jennifer, because it ended any opportunities to socialize and made her feel like her family was being held hostage to the demands of darkness. No longer could the night be held at bay with the flick of a switch, or loneliness salved with a phone call or a visit to a friend. With batteries and candles exhausted, for all intents and purposes, and Jennifer too afraid to experiment with any kind of flame for light, the coming of night forced the completion of each day whether she was ready for it or not, and each day was ending a little earlier than the one before.

Jennifer had found that if she started getting the kids off to bed when the sun hit the horizon, there was usually enough light for her to get them bedded down and still have a few minutes of time to herself before all of the light disappeared. Spencer typically went down first, although lately Emma was beating him, sometimes thirty minutes before the sun set. David preferred to stay up, but with the hard work he was doing at the ranch, the cooler weather setting in, and his energy tapped, he was usually ready to head to bed at dusk without much prodding.

As part of her nighttime ritual, Jennifer sat next to Spencer on his bed and tucked the covers around him, and tonight was no different from the routine they had developed.

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, big guy,” she whispered in his ear.

“Love you too, Mom,” he replied, rising up to wrap his little arms tightly around her neck. He gave a grunt as he hugged her, then fell back onto his bed. “Mom,” he said, his blue eyes gazing up at her, innocent and wide. “When will dad be here?”

Jennifer flinched at the question. Over the last few weeks, Spencer had gradually quit asking about his dad, and Jennifer had been relieved that Spencer wasn’t thinking too much about his dad’s absence. “I don’t know, honey. Why do you ask?”

“He said he wasn’t going to be gone so long, but it’s been lots of days.”

“Dad didn’t know he’d be gone this long, hon, but some stuff has happened to make him late. No airplanes or cars are working right now.”

“How’s he going to get home?”
“Well,” said Jennifer, “how would you get home if you couldn’t use an airplane?”
Spencer considered the question, and then smiled. “I’d ride a horse, like a cowboy.”
“Well, you’re dad is probably riding a horse, just like you would.”
Spencer laughed. “But Dad’s not a cowboy.”
“I bet he’d learn, so he could get home to you.”
“Do you think he’s still mad?”
“Why do you think he’s mad?” Jennifer asked, surprised.
“He got mad when I knocked his shirts on the floor, and I didn’t say sorry.”

“Spencer, don’t you worry about that. I know your dad loves you, lots and lots.” She started to choke up. “I bet he doesn’t even care at all about those silly shirts. He just wants to get home to his kids.”

“Mom, tell him I’m sorry when he gets back.”
“I think he knows, Spencer. I’m glad you’re thinking about him.”
Spencer grinned broadly “See you in the morning, Mom,” he said, then turned on his side and closed his eyes, still smiling.

Jennifer kissed him again, then walked up the stairs as she thought about her conversation with Spencer and wondered where Kyle might be. In the living room, David was sitting on the floor playing solitaire with a well-worn deck of cards. “Time for bed, Son,” she said. “It’s almost dark, and you’re not feeling well.”

David coughed hoarsely and raised a hand in the air. “Just let me finish this game,” he choked out between the coughs.
“Are you going to be able to go to work tomorrow? You sound pretty bad.”
David shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said just as another coughing fit struck. “I hope so. We need the food.”

“Well, if you’re sick, you’re sick. I’m going to help the Andersons get most of the vegetables out of their garden this week. Grace is worried about frost and doesn’t want to lose anything. She said she’d share as much as they can spare, and they have lots of carrots and potatoes stocked in their basement, so don’t worry too much about missing a day or two at the farm.”

“But I’ve been getting some meat, and I’d rather not be a vegetarian.”

Jennifer laughed at her oldest. “We can get by on vegetables if we need to. Mrs. Anderson has a wonderful garden, so you’d better be grateful to her.”

“I am, Mom. You know I’m just kidding. Has Mrs. Anderson ever said why she has such a big garden? The thing takes up most of the yard around their house. It’s huge!”

“Grace says it’s a hobby she enjoys. She likes to try out new varieties and techniques, plus they do a lot of canning and usually share it with their kids. We’re extremely lucky that they live next door.”

David nodded and finished his card game while he visited with his mother, then wished her a good night and headed downstairs to his bedroom.

Jennifer straightened up the house before settling in on the couch with a borrowed book. 
The evenings were getting cooler, and she wrapped a blanket around her legs and positioned herself to catch the last of the fading light, reading until the words on the pages could no longer be deciphered, then she folded down the corner and set the book on the floor.

Lately, with the cooler evenings, it felt like fall, and Jennifer worried again about how they would stay warm through the winter. The propane fireplace would provide some heat, but they only had a quarter tank left, and she had no idea how long that would last, especially if temperatures got down below zero.

She worried, as she always did, about Kyle, and seriously wondered for the first time, if he was really alive, and if he was alive, where he might be. She worried about their food, but hoped that between the Anderson’s generosity and David’s work at the farm, they would scrape by. She worried about Doug. He was a constant, nagging stress she carried with her everywhere she went. She’d seen him around recently, but thankfully he’d avoided any contact with her. Maybe her message had been received after all, but she doubted that. His actions at the last meeting told her that was unlikely.

Jennifer worried about the community. The death of the Klein family seemed to have broken things open, and a dark cloud had settled over many of the people she talked to. Some now talked openly about dying, and many were no longer participating in the community activities. Occasionally, she cranked up the radio to listen to the president’s radio broadcasts, but the hope and optimism portrayed there contrasted so sharply with what she saw around her that she had simply dismissed the broadcasts as propaganda and quit listening. According to others, the president had reported that some power had been restored in Washington D.C., but rather than finding that encouraging, the news had depressed her more than she would’ve imagined. Going on five weeks, she thought, and that’s all the progress they can report?

She worried about her kids, wishing they could have typical childhood experiences like attending a real school, visiting relatives, going to the zoo, and watching TV. She hated that they were worrying about whether or not they would see their dad again and had to work for food or help with the burial of a neighbor. Emma struggled the most, and Jennifer didn’t know what to do. Their night together had helped some, plus Jennifer had tried playing games and reading books with Emma, and even going on mother-daughter walks, but was still having limited success in helping her daughter cope with their new way of life. David was becoming a man, having matured rapidly in the past few weeks, but Jennifer worried about him too, that he was having to grow up too quickly. His work at the Shipley farm was tough, but the milk, meat, and other food he was earning were a huge help to the family, and David knew the value it had for them, which added to his pressure and responsibilities. Spencer, on the other hand, was young and taking everything in stride, not worrying about things too much, just innocently accepting the situation for what it was. Still thinking about her kids, Jennifer drifted off to sleep where she dreamed about easier times.

Jennifer slept peacefully until a noise broke through her dreams and abruptly woke her. Without moving from the couch, Jennifer tried to regain her bearings as she listened for the noise to repeat. A neighbor’s dog barked in the distance, and comfortable that she’d identified the disturbance, Jennifer relaxed and drifted off to sleep again. Just as she lost consciousness, she heard muffled footsteps in the house. Her mind focused immediately and she sat up. “David?” she called out and waited for an answer. The noise stopped, but no answer came. “David, is that you? Are you feeling okay?” The house was eerily still.

Darkness surrounded her, the dim glow of the moonlight barely illuminating the windows let alone the rest of the house. Now sitting on the edge of the couch, she held her breath and leaned forward, straining to hear the sound. She heard the neighbor’s dog again, but was certain that wasn’t what had awakened her. The silence was thick and heavy, and Jennifer listened and waited, but still nothing.

After a tense minute, she exhaled slowly and leaned back against the couch. Her heart raced, but she tried to dismiss the noises as “night-sounds” amplified by her stressed-out situation. Too wound up to go back to sleep, Jennifer felt with her feet for her slippers, then got up and walked into the kitchen for a drink of water. A cool breeze drifted across her ankles, covering her legs with goose bumps. She looked for the source of the breeze and saw that the front door was open with a narrow wedge of moonlight illuminating the gap.

Jennifer’s mind raced. Had she closed and locked the door earlier in the evening? She was positive she had. Had one of the children wandered off? Emma had been so unsettled -- was it her? Filled with dread, Jennifer ran outside to the porch and scanned the street in front of the house. She saw nothing and hurried back inside, her heart pounding like a piston. She walked as quickly as she dared in the darkness down the hall towards Emma’s room.

Passing the open door to her own bedroom, Jennifer sensed movement. She stopped and turned. “Emma?” she said in a hushed voice. “Are you…” she started to say before being silenced by a shape, much too large to be Emma, moving rapidly towards her from inside her bedroom. Petrified, she stood in front of the door wanting to scream, but only a dull gasp escaped her lips. She tried to pull herself away from the door, but her legs wouldn’t respond. She raised her hands in front of her for protection just as the intruder, in his attempt to flee, collided with her and sent her careening backwards into the wall of the hallway. Her arms flailed behind her to find the wall and catch herself, but the impact was too violent and she only managed to knock the pictures that were hanging there to the floor with her as she fell.

As the intruder dashed towards the front door to escape, his legs tangled with hers and he fell with a loud crash to the ground, then quickly recovered, scrambled for the door, and was swallowed by the darkness of the night as he fled through the front door.

Jennifer lay on the floor, stunned and trying to make sense of what had happened. As she began to pick herself up, a sound came from the basement stairs and terror took root again. Jennifer crawled silently into her room as the footsteps approached the top of the stairs. She reached under the mattress for Kyle’s gun, her heart skipping a beat when she heard a hinge on the basement door squeak as it opened.

Who was in her house? What had they done to her children? Rumors of gangs had spread through the community in recent weeks, but so far there hadn’t been any problems locally. Was she the first victim? Jennifer’s fingers found the cold, reassuring steel, and she quickly pulled the gun from under the mattress. With her hands shaking violently, Jennifer tossed the holster to the floor and turned back towards the door.

Images of David and Spencer butchered in their beds in the basement terrorized her. What had happened to sweet Emma? Was it too late to save any of them? She could feel her heart pounding, then her fear dissolved into a rage more intense than she had ever felt in her life.

Jennifer held the gun tightly with both hands and pointed it towards the open doorway. She had shot the gun a few times in the past and knew how to use it, if she needed to. Aiming the gun at chest level, she pressed her right index finger lightly against the trigger, ready to squeeze as soon as the intruder appeared. She listened, senses magnified, adrenaline pumping, exhaling in short, shallow puffs, her mind focused on the gun in her hands.

In her other life she would have called 911, but not now. Being able to call for help, or even just flip on a light was a distant memory. She longed for the sound of approaching sirens and flashing blue lights racing down the road to save her, but knew they would never come.

A loose floorboard produced a barely audible creak, but it echoed loudly in her head. She squeezed the grip of the gun tighter. In her head, she heard Kyle’s instructions. “Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it.” Jennifer’s arms began to tingle from holding the gun extended, but she blocked the discomfort from her mind.

Her eyes straining in the darkness, Jennifer saw the dark shape of a hand placed carefully on her doorway. She tensed and waited, ready to fire, knowing that she would need to incapacitate the intruder before he could return fire. She felt the pressure of the trigger against her finger, and braced herself for the recoil and sound of the shot, knowing it would echo loudly throughout the house.

As she waited and watched, poised to shoot, she heard a voice from down the hallway calling timidly for her. It was Emma. Jennifer wanted to scream out to her, to tell her not to draw attention to herself, but she was too afraid.

Jennifer forced herself to breathe, still watching the hand on the doorway. Something crunched and she knew the intruder had stepped on glass from one of the broken pictures. The hand pulled away from the doorway, and she heard a muffled noise. The noise came again, then again. A stifled cough!

Jennifer lowered the gun. “David?” she hissed, listening for a response, “David? Is that you?” she hissed again, more urgently this time.

“Mom?” came David’s frightened voice. “Mom, it’s me. Are you okay?”

Jennifer started to shake. She dropped the gun and crawled across the room to her bedroom doorway. “David, you scared me,” she said, her voice choking off. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she envisioned herself shooting David and watching him die by her hand. She reached him and wrapped her arms around his head as he sat on the floor in the hallway holding his foot.

“Mom, be careful. There’s broken glass,” he said. “I cut my foot. I heard a crash, then someone running. What happened?”

Jennifer knelt on the floor embracing her son, barely able to think, completely unable to answer.

 

Monday, October 17th

Deer Creek, Montana

“Who is it?” Jennifer yelled through the closed door.
“It’s Carol. What’s going on in there? Are you okay?”
Jennifer cracked the door open, squinting in the bright afternoon sunlight and braced to slam the door shut if it wasn’t her.

Carol, her head cocked to the side, looked quizzically through the narrow slit. “Jennifer?” she said. “What’s going on? You missed our meeting today. I figured something must be wrong.”

Jennifer opened the door wider. “I’m sorry Carol. I just didn’t feel like going today. I should have stopped by to tell you.”
“You’re still in your robe. Are you sick? There are a lot of people down right now.”
Jennifer shook her head. “David’s sick, but the rest of us are doing okay. Did I miss anything at the meeting?”

“No, just the usual depressing reports. Seems like everyone’s hungry, and no one’s sure how we’re going to make it through the winter. Heat’s also a problem of course, but that’s not why I stopped by. You’ve never missed a meeting. Something’s got to be up.”

Jennifer stepped away from the door and let Carol in. “You want to sit down?”

“If I’m not intruding. You look horrible. You sure you’re okay?”

Jennifer wobbled her head from side to side and shrugged her shoulders, then the tears started to flow. “It’s kind of hard to talk about. Not even sure what happened.”

Carol took her friend by the hand and led her to the couch. “Jennifer, what happened? Was it Doug?”
Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know. It might have been. Probably was, but I can’t prove it,” she choked out.
“Was he here?”

Jennifer nodded. “Someone was. I fell asleep on the couch and then woke up when I heard a noise. I thought it was one of the kids, so I got up to check and noticed the front door open. I was worried that maybe Emma had wandered off; she hasn’t been dealing with things too well lately. When I walked past my bedroom door…. to go check on Emma, I saw someone in my room, but it was dark…. and I couldn’t see a face, just a shape.” Jennifer’s crying got worse.

Carol put her arm around Jennifer’s shoulder. “Are you okay? That must have been terrifying.”

Jennifer nodded. “I think whoever it was thought I was going into my room because he raced out and pushed me over. He fell, and I heard a grunt. It was a man’s noise, but that’s all I heard. He didn’t say anything, just got up and took off. It scared me to death.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Not really,” Jennifer said, shaking her head. “Just a bump. But then I heard someone sneaking up the basement stairs, so I got Kyle’s gun. I was so scared and mad I couldn’t breathe, and I was going to shoot whoever it was. Turned out it was David. I came this close to killing my son,” she said, holding up her fingers a quarter inch a part. “If he hadn’t started coughing, I might have shot him.”

“Is David okay?”

“Yeah, he cut his foot on some broken glass, but that’s it. He doesn’t know his mom almost blew him away. Carol, if I had shot him, I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself. Looking back now, it was stupid not to realize it was David, but I wasn’t expecting my fourteen year old to be sneaking around in the middle of the night. It was so dark, and I was so scared…” Jennifer looked at Carol, searching for understanding in her eyes. “I’m so flustered right now I can hardly think. It’s Doug’s fault that I even have that gun in my room…. and came so close to shooting my son…. I couldn’t stand to go to that meeting today, to see his smirk, knowing what he’s doing to me.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Carol. “Or, better yet, what do we need to do about this?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. My kids are worried. They think mom’s going nuts, and they’re probably right. It’s bad enough that we’re living like cavemen with barely enough to eat, a bucket for a toilet, and having to walk a mile for water. Why does Doug have to do this to me? Why can’t he just leave me alone? He’s such a, a...” Jennifer’s voice trailed off as Spencer wandered in from the living room. Jennifer wiped at her tears and found Spencer a carrot to eat, then sent him off to play in the basement.

Carol reached out and rested her hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine having to deal with that jerk. Do you want to come stay with me? We have room at my house. You guys could stay in the basement, and you’d be safer there with more people around.”

“Would I be safer there, or would I just put more people in danger? It’s like we’re living in a town with a crooked sheriff. How do you get rid of him?”

“We could have a council meeting. I’m sure there are other men who could take Doug’s position. Craig’s brother moved out this week. He sounds like someone who’d get involved.”

“That doesn’t get rid of Doug though. I feel like it’s me that’s the problem. No one else is having problems, are they?”

“Not that I know about. You think he might be bothering someone else?”

“I don’t know. If he’ll harass me, maybe he’d do it to someone else, too? But I’m also in a unique situation. As far as I know, everyone else has their husband around. I don’t, so I’m an easier target.”

“I’ll ask around and see if anyone’s seen anything. Do you think we should watch him in the meantime?”

“Maybe. I just want him to go away. My neighbor, Chuck, thinks I should just go shoot the bastard. Says there’s no law right now, so I should just take things into my own hands. I’d rather just castrate the jerk.”

Carol laughed and shook her head.
“You’re the doctor, what do you think?” Jennifer continued.
“I’m a vet. I specialize in a different kind of animal.”
“Can’t be that different, can it?”
“I’m sure there are similarities, but I don’t anticipate finding out.”

Jennifer leaned back on the couch, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “The stress is wearing me out. I’ve had a headache for two days, and I don’t sleep. What should I do Carol? Where do I go for help?”

“Let me talk to some people and see what they think. You just try to relax and not let him control your life.”

“You think I’m not trying?” Jennifer snapped, then apologized.

Carol leaned over and gave Jennifer a hug as Jennifer struggled to hold back fresh tears. They visited a while longer, then Carol left to “go talk to Craig”.

 

A little before dark, another knock sounded at Jennifer’s door. Her back instantly stiffened at the sound. She tried to control her fears, but every unexpected noise still made her jump. As she crept to the door, a wave of relief washed over her at the sound of Carol’s voice calling out.

Carol stood on the porch with a man that Jennifer didn’t recognize but who seemed somewhat familiar. His dark hair, which, unlike most people’s these days, looked like it had been washed recently, was cut short with no real attempt at a style and framed his square face and prominent forehead. The man wore a well-worn, brown, leather jacket and faded blue jeans and was a good foot taller than Carol, so that even from his spot outside, Jennifer had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. The man watched Jennifer study him and smiled warmly at her. His eyes were bright and conveyed a sense of confidence that Jennifer hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Come in,” Jennifer invited. “We don’t have much light left, but come in.”

Carol and the man walked into the house, and Carol made introductions. “This is Sean Reider. He’s Craig’s brother, the one I was telling you about earlier.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jennifer said, shaking his hand. She led them into the living room where they all sat down. “What’s up?” she asked, trying her best to sound cheerful and relaxed and hoping they wouldn’t notice her shaking hands.

“Well,” said Carol, “I went to talk to Craig about your situation. Sean was there and we got into a discussion about things. Anyways, to make a long story short, Sean, Craig and I ended up going over to Doug’s house to talk to him, to see if we could put an end to your problems.”

Jennifer gasped involuntarily, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth to cut it off. “How’d it go?” she asked in a hushed voice through her hand.

“I don’t know,” said Carol. “I’m not sure what I expected, but it was just a conversation. Can’t say whether it went good or bad. It just kind of went.”

“Can I say something?” Sean asked, jumping into the conversation.
Jennifer nodded.
“Just so you know, I was in the military for ten years and spent some time as an MP, so I’ve dealt with troublemakers.”
“What’s an MP?” Jennifer asked, interrupting.

“Sorry,” said Sean. “Sometimes I assume everyone’s familiar with military terms. MP stands for Military Police, the military’s law enforcement. But anyway, I don’t know this Doug guy, but sometimes if someone knows that what they’re doing is no longer a secret, they change their behavior. So even if you can’t catch them in the act, by confronting them you stop the behavior. I think under the current circumstances that might be the best we can hope for.”

“Did he say anything when you talked to him?”
Carol shook her head. “Not really. Acted like it was all a surprise to him.”
“Did he deny any of it?”
Sean spoke up. “He said you two were just friends, that you misinterpreted things. Said it was just taken wrong.”
“What about the break-in?”

“He acted surprised. Claimed he didn’t know a thing about it,” said Carol. “Then he got kinda defensive and said there was no possible way for him to be able to police the entire area twenty-four hours a day by himself.”

“I think he acted a little too indignant,” said Sean. “To me, that show’s guilt, but I have no way to prove anything, plus it was the first time I’d met the guy so I don’t have any past references to go off of.

“What do you think I should do?” asked Jennifer. “It’s not just me. I’ve got three kids that I’m worried about too.”

“I think he’s going to stop, or at the very least, cool it for awhile,” said Sean. “He’s a cop, so he knows better. If it was Doug that broke in the other night, maybe he just got carried away and will rein it in. There is the chance that it wasn’t him too. Things were getting really bad in Missoula when I left. In the meantime, keep your doors locked at night, your eyes open, and maybe talk to your kids, at least your oldest, about things. Carol said your son’s fourteen?”

“Yeah, David’s fourteen.”

“You can still come stay with me, if you’d like,” said Carol. “You might feel safer at my place.”

“I appreciate that, Carol,” said Jennifer. “Let me think about it. Emma is having such a hard time right now, and I don’t know how she’d react to another big change. Besides, this is our home. All of our stuff is here, and this is where Kyle will come back to when he returns.”

Carol nodded and smiled. “I understand. I hope somehow we’ve helped. It’s late. We’d better get going.”

Jennifer thanked Carol and Sean and walked them to the door, then locked it securely behind them. She went straight to her bedroom and found her handgun, then checked to make sure it was loaded before tucking it back under the mattress where it would be easy to grab.