The Storm (17 page)

              “Hey, guys. Have you been good for Mommy today?” I asked them.

              “Yes, Daddy,” answered Tabitha.

              “I want yogurt,” said Paul.

              “We don’t have any, baby boy” said Stacy in a sympathetic voice that only made Paul angry. He was used to having yogurt every day for lunch and couldn’t grasp that we wouldn’t be having that again for a long time, if ever.

              “Yogurt,” he said again, as though if he repeated it, we would suddenly be able to produce it.

              “Daddy,” said Tabs, “I drew some good pictures earlier, and Paul marked the walls. Are you mad at him?”

              Stacy just shook her head at me before replying, “Daddy isn’t mad, Tabitha. We just don’t have spare water to clean it up is all.”

              Tabitha looked up at me and awaited my confirmation. “I’m not mad, pumpkin, you and Paul are okay. Please just keep an eye on your brother and tell Mommy if he’s doing something he’s not supposed to. Okay?”

              “Okay, Daddy,” she said.

              “Yogurt,” came from Paul again.

              “Daddy,” screamed Tabitha to make herself heard over Paulie. “I’m hungry too,” she said in a cute little girl voice that melts a parent’s heart.

              “What do we have for them to eat today?” I asked over at Stacy.

              “How about some ravioli or spaghetti and meatballs?” she asked them.

              “Yogurt,” said Paul again.

              “I want a peanut butter and honey sandwich,” demanded Tabitha in a tone that was a bit aggressive.

              I then bent down low on one knee so I would be eye level with them. I felt so drained and tired, but managed to produce a smile and figured appeasement, although it would make Stacy mad, might just make my day a bit easier. “How about some potato chips?” I asked enthusiastically, knowing what answer would come back.

              “Oh boy, yay,” said Tabitha.

              “Chips!” said Paulie. “Chips, chips. I want chips.”

              “Okay, Mommy, can you grab them some chips in a bowl and I’m going to go start changing. Come on up in a second, I need to tell you about my day.”

              “And I need to tell you about mine,” she said stoically.

              I climbed the stairs, each step feeling as though I had just climbed the thousands of steps present in a skyscraper. First, the winter jacket came off and then my sweater. I couldn’t even remember where I had left my gloves, probably in my pants pocket downstairs. For a moment, I was only in my boxers and white undershirt and sat down at the foot of the bed. I could almost fall asleep just sitting there. If I had lain backward, I probably would be out cold before my head even hit the bed. This is probably how boxers feel in the twelfth round when they get knocked down. I had my ten seconds and had to get back up.

              As I was getting dressed into a pair of slacks and button-up shirt, Stacy came and sat down on the bed in the fresh indentation that my butt had just left. “We have problems,” she said icily and with a stare that cut through me.

              “The whole damn world has problems,” I answered cynically. “What kinds of problems? Also, should I wear a tie to this meeting?”

              “Lose the tie. You are probably going to be the best dressed there, save for Samantha.” She let out a sigh that was characteristic of her wanting to know if I was ready for some news.

              “Okay, Stace,” I said in a tone that wasn’t defeated but was ready for another bit of bad news to drop on me. “Let’s hear about that visit.”

              Within a second, she went from the collected and slightly nervous wife to a mean and hateful person. A side of her I’d only seen in drunken card games when she lost and we rubbed it in mercilessly. “That bastard Slav threatened us!”

              “Shit!” immediately was the first word that came out. More a reflex than anything else. I had been worried about him before, now those fears were grounded in truth and had come true. “What happened? Start from the beginning.”

              She took a deep breath and a moment for reflection. She was trying to figure out where to start. “I hid the food and kept the base supplies in the kitchen as we had talked about. I also had the gun loaded and hidden where I could get at it if needed. At first, it was all fine. Samantha came in and chatted for a minute about how proud she was that the neighborhood was being responsible and she was proud of you for pulling your weight on guard duty and patrols.” She took another deep breath to collect herself. She started to twiddle with her hair. She only played with her hair when she was exceptionally bored or overtly nervous. It was obvious here which one it was.

              “Okay, that sounds like Samantha,” I broke in to give her a moment. “What else did she say?”

              “Well, after a minute of that, she had those guys start going through our cupboard and looking to see what we had. I told her that wasn’t necessary and I could give her a list, which I had made earlier to expedite things. She wasn’t interested. She insisted they had to verify for themselves. They were writing it all down, and that biker guy Bradford kept looking over at our kids. He’s a psycho, Josh, I swear it. I don’t ever want him in our house or near our kids again.”

              “He’s different, I’ll grant you that. He is doing some good work with rainwater collection in the community, so maybe he’s just an oddball who wishes he had kids or something. Still, he has been in jail, and you are probably right.” I took a second not just to answer her with some statement to make her feel at ease. Women’s intuition may be fabricated or real, but more often than not, it could sniff out bad people when kids were involved. “Okay, yeah, you are right. Don’t let him into the house ever again unless I’m here.” I had to remind myself that marriage is give and take. If this made her feel comfortable, I wasn’t going to fight over it, especially since I didn’t know the guy. “What next?”

              She looked down for a second at her feet, or the floor space in between them. Her right hand was gently tapping her knee as and her left reached again for the hair. She began twirling and wrapping it around her index finger over and over again. “They started asking about our guns. They knew what you had and were carrying while on duty but then asked what other guns we had. Samantha said each family only needs one gun, and the needs of the community outweigh the needs of each family.”

              I was a bit shocked now. I expected them to be looking for food, and I knew we were necessarily doing the wrong thing morally by hiding provisions for ourselves, but possessing guns as an issue never crossed my mind. “Do we still have our other gun?” I was nervous now and didn’t like at all where this was going.

              “Yes. I told her the US Constitution says I can be armed and she isn’t taking shit from our house.” Stacy looked up at me again and had a bit of fear mixed in with the hatred that was oozing from every pore of her body. “Samantha’s face turned ugly and she stared at me, Josh. I honestly thought she might kill me. I’ve never seen that side of her. I think at work she would fire someone on the spot for insubordination or something, but now, who knows what she is capable of. Slav took a position behind me while Miller walked to the other room to see what the kids were doing. Samantha stared silently at me for a very long minute. I’ve never been so scared in all my life.”

              I found myself sitting next to her and giving my wife a big hug. She buried her head into my chest and began sobbing. Everyone is familiar with tears of joy or sorrow, but today she was crying for pure hate. A rage had boiled up in Stacy and was vented only through the tears and tight hug she now put on me. I gave a big squeeze and reflected for a moment.
This is my wife, and I love her
. How dare they put her through this? “What happened next, Stacy? Take a second, and tell me.”

              She was still in my arms but started up again. “Samantha said I could keep the gun . . . for now. She then told Miller and Slav to leave with her. She was the first out of the door and Miller was right behind her. Slav stood there a second, his eyes cutting through me. He then took a step closer and spoke to me. He said he saw you at LeapMart and knew we were lying about our food. That he wasn’t going to tell anyone, but he would be collecting some soon for himself.”

              “He’s freaking blackmailing us?” I asked rhetorically aloud to nobody but myself. This wasn’t good. He was armed, and he ran with some bad boys and was technically our commander. I couldn’t speak about this at the upcoming meeting, or else I would incriminate myself for stashing food supplies. Between a rock and a hard place was putting it mildly. We were all so worried about the defense of the neighborhood, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to think of each house as a castle, and to man those walls too. “Did he touch you?” I don’t know why I asked the question. It was just the first thing that came to my mind. If rage is contagious, I was catching it from Stacy.

              A sniffle first and choked up voice. “No.” She gave a few-second pause that felt like an eternity. “He left after that. Said he would be seeing us around soon. You got home right after.”

              This morning, I’d been a half mile north of the neighborhood and joyous to find coal and letting my imagination run wild with Mohammad as we sat in the Ferrari. Now, any optimism I had experienced was gone. A hollow well with a bucket that drew out only rage and sorrow was the state of my emotional well-being now. I’m seldom lost for words in life, but sometimes silence says more. Stacy and I hugged, and I repressed the various thoughts and emotions that tried to bubble out of the well. If anywhere, they would probably resurface in my dreams later, but for now I had to be strong for her and the kids.

              A short time later, I began speaking in a way that I hoped would give her strength, but she would know I was displaying a good dose of fake courage. “Stacy, don’t let them back in the house. For now on, the windows stay locked, the door stays locked, and you keep that gun on you at all times. I had hoped we could just remain here in peace and ride this thing out.” As I spoke, I visualized a sailor at sea seeing a storm approaching and thinking he could draw down his sails, button down the hatch, and go below deck to ride it out in peace. The storm would smash the ship around and make survival unpleasant in the best case scenario. Such was our existence destined to be.

              She nodded. “Don’t trust Samantha.” I nodded back in affirmation.

              “I don’t. If the kids go outside to play, you keep that gun on you. You remember how to shoot and load it?”

              “I practice every day, Josh. Well, except for having it actually fire.”

              “If you have to shoot someone, don’t hesitate. Protect the kids, Stacy. What’s the most important rule when firing a gun?”

              “Pull the trigger?” she asked innocently.

              “Don’t close your eyes. The gun will kick and make noise. If you close your eyes, you will cringe, and the barrel will pull up, and you will miss your target. You keep your eyes open and on whatever you are shooting at.” I was more direct than usual with her, but this was critical.

              “I will,” she said in a manner that made me believe her.

              It was then that we heard the distant rumble. A noise as familiar to everyone in modern society as hearing a bird chirp. A loud hum in the air. Normally so prevalent and pervasive in society, our minds relegate mechanical noise to the background and tune it out. After several days of an absolute eerie silence, a vibrating hum was again distinct and drew our immediate attention. Stacy shot up from the bed and looked left and right while listening with a sudden alertness. I was half asleep moments before, wallowing in despair over our situation but now alert and feeling some adrenaline flowing again.

              Stacy glanced at me with a smile and hope in her eyes that was all but gone one minute before. “Is that what I think it is?”

              “One way to find out,” I answered. She shot ahead of me down the stairs. I had to find my shoes and put them on. While I had intended to wear a nice pair of loafers to finish off my dressed up attire, I threw on an old pair of sneakers that were next to the bed and then ran downstairs too with jacket in hand. I glanced left as I took the last step and saw the kids sitting on the couch, still munching happily on chips. Instantly I turned right and then followed Stacy out the front door. The chill in the air smacked me in the face as I had just warmed up in the house and forgotten how cold it was. After exiting the sounding deafening walls of our house, the noise was much louder and growing closer. It was immensely exciting.

              “Here, Stacy, put this on please,” I said as I handed her the jacket. She duly placed her arms in the sleeves but left it unzipped. A couple of other neighbors were outside too and were already looking up. I noticed Tom wearing a thick camouflage jacket whilst holding a beer and looking skyward. If anyone on God’s green Earth would be willing to trade food for beer, it may be Tom.

             
HUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMM. VROOOOOMMMMMMMMMM.

              It was close now, and we all looked up. Suddenly Stacy saw it and pointed. “Look over there! An airplane!” It was the first reminder of civilization beyond our neighborhood since the storm. It was a curious sight and was far distant. Above the tree line we only saw it for a good thirty seconds, but it gave us all hope.