Kyle smiled at Emma as he reached for the bread. “I understand, and thank you. You won’t see me again. I promise.” He turned back to the door and pulled it open without a sound, then stepped out into the cold air of the early morning.
“You need to hurry,” Emma whispered. “I’ll wake my son in a few minutes and tell him you’re missing, if he doesn’t wake before then.”
Kyle nodded and tiptoed down the front steps, then hurried away from the house in a slow trot, gradually picking up speed as the sensation in his feet returned to normal. It was downhill to the truck where he’d left his cart, and he made it there in a little less than fifteen minutes. Kyle hastily dug through his cart in the dim light of a cloud-covered moon. He found a sweatshirt at the bottom of the pack and pulled it over his head before heading off into the night, towing his cart behind him.
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.