Chapter 4
Lisa and the truck were gone when Justin woke up.
James was sitting at the tiny table, staring out the window, tears running silently down his face. He barely glanced up when Justin paused beside him to stare at where the truck had been. “She’s gone home, hasn’t she, Daddy?” He began pushing a pencil around the checkered vinyl tablecloth.
Justin bit back a sob. “I guess so, Jim.”
“Do you think she’ll come back?”
Justin looked down at his son, his heart breaking. “I don’t know, kiddo.”
“Why did she go?” James asked, looking up at him. “Was it something I did?”
Justin knelt down beside his son and wrapped his arms around him. “No, son. It wasn’t anything you did. I told her a few things last night that she didn’t want to hear, that she didn’t want to believe. I think she’s gone to try and prove me wrong. It wasn’t you, James. I swear to you, it wasn’t you.”
“I was listening last night,” the boy whispered. “I thought maybe she was mad because I heard you arguing.”
Justin’s shoulders shook as he fought the tears that crept from the corner of his eyes. “No, kiddo. It wasn’t because of that.” He leaned back from his son, wiped his eyes with his fingers, and looked James in the eye. “Jim, do you know what war is?”
The little boy’s blue eyes widened, and he nodded. “It’s when two countries can’t agree about something so badly that they fight.”
Justin blinked. “And you heard what the man on the radio was talking about, right?”
“He said the United Stasis Merica had gone to war with Canada,” James responded dutifully.
Biting back a smile, Justin tousled James’ hair. “Right on. Now, that’s big news, kiddo. It’s a really scary thing, and sometimes people act funny when scary things happen. Sometimes people run away from the things that scare them…”
“Is that what Mommy thinks you did?” James asked softly.
The question caught Justin off-guard, and he paused for a minute before he answered. “I suppose it is.”
“Is that why we came here?”
Justin rose to his feet and looked out the window towards the lake that glimmered a few hundred metres away. He struggled a little with the question, trying to decide how best to respond. “I guess, in a way, it is,” he admitted. “I brought us here because I thought it was the safest place to be. I wanted you and your mother to be safe.”
“But you aren’t scared. Not like Mommy is. I heard it, last night.”
Justin studied his son. “What do you mean? Your mother never said she was scared.”
“She didn’t have to, Daddy,” James said with childlike exasperation. “It’s not what you say, sometimes.”
Shaking his head at his son’s perception, Justin smiled at James. “True,” he admitted. “And yes, your mother was scared. Like I said, Jim, war is scary.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He sought a way to try to explain to a six-year old why Lisa had abandoned them. “I told your mother a lot of things last night, things that I’m guessing will happen. Scary things. Your mother doesn’t want to believe that the things I told her will actually happen. To her, that idea is even scarier than war… so she ran away.”
“Are the things you told her really going to happen?” James asked, staring at him.
Justin sighed. “I can only guess at the future, son. I can’t say for sure what will or won’t happen.” He looked down at James’ earnest expression. “But I think I’m pretty close.”
“Will there be fighting, like in those movies you watch at night?”
Justin nodded. “Probably, kiddo.”
“Are we gonna die?” James asked in a hushed whisper, pushing the pencil around again.
“No,” Justin replied firmly. He knelt down and placed his hands on James’ shoulders, staring his son in the eyes. “No we aren’t.”
James nodded, his blue eyes fierce. “Good. I don’t wanna die yet.”
Justin was about to say something when the refrigerator beside the table suddenly stopped its usual hum. He blinked at it, and then his eyes narrowed. Rising to his feet again, he crossed the floor to the radio. The red stand-by light wasn’t on.
The power was down.
He swallowed the lump that had formed suddenly in his throat and glanced at the breaker box hanging on the wall above the fridge. The breakers hadn’t flipped.
In the sudden silence, he heard a dull, distant ‘thump’, followed by a rapid series of similar sullen booming sounds.
Calgary was nearly two hundred kilometers away, he argued to himself. It couldn’t possibly be…
“What are those noises, Daddy?” James asked softly.
Justin walked to the screen door and stepped outside onto the leaf-strewn concrete pad that separated the two old cabins. The sounds came again, from the east.
Red Deer.
He staggered away from the door as though struck by a physical blow and leaned against the wooden siding, staring in the direction of the sounds.
It had begun. He’d expected only the major centers to be hit, but Red Deer was a logical secondary target. Take out the highways, smaller urban centers…
James came out and stood beside him. Justin reached down and took hold of his son’s tiny hand, and the two of them stared at the blue sky and listened to the sullen drumbeat of falling bombs in the distance.
*
Justin closed the shed door, drowning out the rough growl of the generator. He didn’t want to leave it running for long, but he needed to turn on the radio and hear what was happening.
Lisa had left everything, including the jerry can, so they had enough fuel to keep the generator running for a decent amount of time as long as they used it sparingly. Fortunately it had been full to start with, and there was some gasoline additive in the shed to keep the fuel in usable condition for an extended period of time. He knew he had to do an inventory of what they had before too long, but right now the news was more important.
He walked back inside and flipped the breakers on. The fridge stuttered to life, but there was nothing in it, so he unplugged it. Less draw on the generator meant less fuel consumed. He grinned over at James. “I told you it would still work. Your grandfather always made sure he got things that would last.”
James laughed and clapped his hands.
Still smiling, Justin walked over to the radio. He pushed the power button and braced himself for what he would hear.
“…broadcast. Remain calm and remain in your homes. Emergency shelters are being arranged by city officials, and instructions will follow. All military personnel are hereby recalled to the nearest base. All leaves are hereby cancelled. This is an emergency broadcast. Remain calm and remain in your homes. Emergency shelters are being arranged…”
Justin hit the ‘seek’ button, and the radio skipped to the next station. A similar broadcast, with the same tinny voice, repeated the same instructions. He repeated the process, searching for any kind of additional information, but nothing was forthcoming from the Red Deer, Calgary, or Edmonton stations. With a sigh he flicked the radio off.
“Alright, kiddo,” he said, looking over at James. “Let’s get this place set up.” He walked out the back door, stopping at the first of two sheds to shut off the generator. The second storage shed was where he and Lisa had stashed all of the canned goods and other items the night before. James tagged along behind, eager to help.
Opening the door, Justin heaved up one of the backpacks and grabbed the gun case and the duffel bag. “Jim,” he said gently. “I don’t want you playing with the stuff in these bags, okay?”
James looked at the bags, his eyes serious. “That’s your hunting gun, isn’t it?”
Justin nodded. “That’s right. One day I’ll show you how to shoot it, but I don’t want you playing with it until I say you’re ready. Do you understand?”
His son nodded, his eyes wide.
“I’m taking it into the cabin, and I’m going to show it to you. Can you carry one of these bags of cans?”
James reached out and grabbed one of the plastic bags. It was heavy, and he needed both hands to lift it, but he struggled along beside Justin as they returned inside.
Once inside, Justin placed the duffel bag on the table and carried the gun case and backpack over to one of the beds. “Okay, kiddo. Come here.”
He unzipped the gun case and pulled the rifle out. James stared at it, his eyes wide.
“First, kiddo, you need to know that guns are dangerous. In normal circumstances, I keep this gun locked in the basement, unloaded, and with a lock on the trigger. Out here, though, I’m going to keep it beside the door, loaded, and with no lock on the trigger. Promise me you will never, ever touch it.”
James crossed his heart. “I promise, Daddy.”
Justin nodded. “Okay.” Slowly he pointed out all of the parts of the gun, explaining each part to his son and making James repeat what he told him. Once he was done, he loaded three rounds into the clip, but left the chamber empty. Then he rose, placed the rifle beside the door, and crossed to the table.
The box in the bottom of the duffel bag was heavier than he expected. He lifted it out and carried it to the bed. “This,” he said as he opened the box, “is a handgun. It’s even more dangerous than the rifle. Promise me you will never touch this.”
The gun sitting in the box was a Glock 31, the kind of gun police officers on television always seemed to use. The sleek weapon gleamed in the false-velvet lining of the box. He pulled out the clip and began loading it. It held fifteen rounds.
“A handgun serves only one purpose, Jim,” Justin said as he slid the clip into the boxy weapon. “It’s made to kill. Remember that.”
James nodded, his eyes glued to the gun. “Are you going to kill someone, Daddy?”
“I hope not, Jim. But if it comes down to killing someone in order to protect you, I will.” Justin stared at his son. “Remember when I told you that war was a scary thing, Jim?”
James nodded, his eyes never leaving the gun in his father’s hands.
“Guns aren’t scary until the wrong person has one. Right now, I want you to assume that anyone other than me is the wrong person. If you see someone coming around the cabin, I want you to come and get me right away. If you see someone with a gun, I want you to run away as fast as you can, but don’t run in a straight line. This afternoon we’ll play a game and I’ll show you what I mean.”
James’ lower lip began to tremble, and Justin placed the Glock in his belt and reached out to caress his son’s cheek. “Don’t worry, kiddo. There’s nothing to be afraid of right now. Just remember: if you see anyone around here, come and get me.”
“And if they have a gun, run away,” James repeated.
Justin nodded and smiled at him reassuringly. “And never touch the rifle or the handgun.”
“Daddy,” James whispered. “Is it okay to be scared?”
“Yes, Jim, it’s okay to be scared,” Justin said calmly. “But I am right here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
He wrapped his son in a hug as James began to cry. He wished he could say that everything was going to be alright, but he didn’t want to lie to a child.
“Come on,” he said when James’ sobs dwindled to a stuttering sniffle. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff.”
James was sitting at the tiny table, staring out the window, tears running silently down his face. He barely glanced up when Justin paused beside him to stare at where the truck had been. “She’s gone home, hasn’t she, Daddy?” He began pushing a pencil around the checkered vinyl tablecloth.
Justin bit back a sob. “I guess so, Jim.”
“Do you think she’ll come back?”
Justin looked down at his son, his heart breaking. “I don’t know, kiddo.”
“Why did she go?” James asked, looking up at him. “Was it something I did?”
Justin knelt down beside his son and wrapped his arms around him. “No, son. It wasn’t anything you did. I told her a few things last night that she didn’t want to hear, that she didn’t want to believe. I think she’s gone to try and prove me wrong. It wasn’t you, James. I swear to you, it wasn’t you.”
“I was listening last night,” the boy whispered. “I thought maybe she was mad because I heard you arguing.”
Justin’s shoulders shook as he fought the tears that crept from the corner of his eyes. “No, kiddo. It wasn’t because of that.” He leaned back from his son, wiped his eyes with his fingers, and looked James in the eye. “Jim, do you know what war is?”
The little boy’s blue eyes widened, and he nodded. “It’s when two countries can’t agree about something so badly that they fight.”
Justin blinked. “And you heard what the man on the radio was talking about, right?”
“He said the United Stasis Merica had gone to war with Canada,” James responded dutifully.
Biting back a smile, Justin tousled James’ hair. “Right on. Now, that’s big news, kiddo. It’s a really scary thing, and sometimes people act funny when scary things happen. Sometimes people run away from the things that scare them…”
“Is that what Mommy thinks you did?” James asked softly.
The question caught Justin off-guard, and he paused for a minute before he answered. “I suppose it is.”
“Is that why we came here?”
Justin rose to his feet and looked out the window towards the lake that glimmered a few hundred metres away. He struggled a little with the question, trying to decide how best to respond. “I guess, in a way, it is,” he admitted. “I brought us here because I thought it was the safest place to be. I wanted you and your mother to be safe.”
“But you aren’t scared. Not like Mommy is. I heard it, last night.”
Justin studied his son. “What do you mean? Your mother never said she was scared.”
“She didn’t have to, Daddy,” James said with childlike exasperation. “It’s not what you say, sometimes.”
Shaking his head at his son’s perception, Justin smiled at James. “True,” he admitted. “And yes, your mother was scared. Like I said, Jim, war is scary.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He sought a way to try to explain to a six-year old why Lisa had abandoned them. “I told your mother a lot of things last night, things that I’m guessing will happen. Scary things. Your mother doesn’t want to believe that the things I told her will actually happen. To her, that idea is even scarier than war… so she ran away.”
“Are the things you told her really going to happen?” James asked, staring at him.
Justin sighed. “I can only guess at the future, son. I can’t say for sure what will or won’t happen.” He looked down at James’ earnest expression. “But I think I’m pretty close.”
“Will there be fighting, like in those movies you watch at night?”
Justin nodded. “Probably, kiddo.”
“Are we gonna die?” James asked in a hushed whisper, pushing the pencil around again.
“No,” Justin replied firmly. He knelt down and placed his hands on James’ shoulders, staring his son in the eyes. “No we aren’t.”
James nodded, his blue eyes fierce. “Good. I don’t wanna die yet.”
Justin was about to say something when the refrigerator beside the table suddenly stopped its usual hum. He blinked at it, and then his eyes narrowed. Rising to his feet again, he crossed the floor to the radio. The red stand-by light wasn’t on.
The power was down.
He swallowed the lump that had formed suddenly in his throat and glanced at the breaker box hanging on the wall above the fridge. The breakers hadn’t flipped.
In the sudden silence, he heard a dull, distant ‘thump’, followed by a rapid series of similar sullen booming sounds.
Calgary was nearly two hundred kilometers away, he argued to himself. It couldn’t possibly be…
“What are those noises, Daddy?” James asked softly.
Justin walked to the screen door and stepped outside onto the leaf-strewn concrete pad that separated the two old cabins. The sounds came again, from the east.
Red Deer.
He staggered away from the door as though struck by a physical blow and leaned against the wooden siding, staring in the direction of the sounds.
It had begun. He’d expected only the major centers to be hit, but Red Deer was a logical secondary target. Take out the highways, smaller urban centers…
James came out and stood beside him. Justin reached down and took hold of his son’s tiny hand, and the two of them stared at the blue sky and listened to the sullen drumbeat of falling bombs in the distance.
*
Justin closed the shed door, drowning out the rough growl of the generator. He didn’t want to leave it running for long, but he needed to turn on the radio and hear what was happening.
Lisa had left everything, including the jerry can, so they had enough fuel to keep the generator running for a decent amount of time as long as they used it sparingly. Fortunately it had been full to start with, and there was some gasoline additive in the shed to keep the fuel in usable condition for an extended period of time. He knew he had to do an inventory of what they had before too long, but right now the news was more important.
He walked back inside and flipped the breakers on. The fridge stuttered to life, but there was nothing in it, so he unplugged it. Less draw on the generator meant less fuel consumed. He grinned over at James. “I told you it would still work. Your grandfather always made sure he got things that would last.”
James laughed and clapped his hands.
Still smiling, Justin walked over to the radio. He pushed the power button and braced himself for what he would hear.
“…broadcast. Remain calm and remain in your homes. Emergency shelters are being arranged by city officials, and instructions will follow. All military personnel are hereby recalled to the nearest base. All leaves are hereby cancelled. This is an emergency broadcast. Remain calm and remain in your homes. Emergency shelters are being arranged…”
Justin hit the ‘seek’ button, and the radio skipped to the next station. A similar broadcast, with the same tinny voice, repeated the same instructions. He repeated the process, searching for any kind of additional information, but nothing was forthcoming from the Red Deer, Calgary, or Edmonton stations. With a sigh he flicked the radio off.
“Alright, kiddo,” he said, looking over at James. “Let’s get this place set up.” He walked out the back door, stopping at the first of two sheds to shut off the generator. The second storage shed was where he and Lisa had stashed all of the canned goods and other items the night before. James tagged along behind, eager to help.
Opening the door, Justin heaved up one of the backpacks and grabbed the gun case and the duffel bag. “Jim,” he said gently. “I don’t want you playing with the stuff in these bags, okay?”
James looked at the bags, his eyes serious. “That’s your hunting gun, isn’t it?”
Justin nodded. “That’s right. One day I’ll show you how to shoot it, but I don’t want you playing with it until I say you’re ready. Do you understand?”
His son nodded, his eyes wide.
“I’m taking it into the cabin, and I’m going to show it to you. Can you carry one of these bags of cans?”
James reached out and grabbed one of the plastic bags. It was heavy, and he needed both hands to lift it, but he struggled along beside Justin as they returned inside.
Once inside, Justin placed the duffel bag on the table and carried the gun case and backpack over to one of the beds. “Okay, kiddo. Come here.”
He unzipped the gun case and pulled the rifle out. James stared at it, his eyes wide.
“First, kiddo, you need to know that guns are dangerous. In normal circumstances, I keep this gun locked in the basement, unloaded, and with a lock on the trigger. Out here, though, I’m going to keep it beside the door, loaded, and with no lock on the trigger. Promise me you will never, ever touch it.”
James crossed his heart. “I promise, Daddy.”
Justin nodded. “Okay.” Slowly he pointed out all of the parts of the gun, explaining each part to his son and making James repeat what he told him. Once he was done, he loaded three rounds into the clip, but left the chamber empty. Then he rose, placed the rifle beside the door, and crossed to the table.
The box in the bottom of the duffel bag was heavier than he expected. He lifted it out and carried it to the bed. “This,” he said as he opened the box, “is a handgun. It’s even more dangerous than the rifle. Promise me you will never touch this.”
The gun sitting in the box was a Glock 31, the kind of gun police officers on television always seemed to use. The sleek weapon gleamed in the false-velvet lining of the box. He pulled out the clip and began loading it. It held fifteen rounds.
“A handgun serves only one purpose, Jim,” Justin said as he slid the clip into the boxy weapon. “It’s made to kill. Remember that.”
James nodded, his eyes glued to the gun. “Are you going to kill someone, Daddy?”
“I hope not, Jim. But if it comes down to killing someone in order to protect you, I will.” Justin stared at his son. “Remember when I told you that war was a scary thing, Jim?”
James nodded, his eyes never leaving the gun in his father’s hands.
“Guns aren’t scary until the wrong person has one. Right now, I want you to assume that anyone other than me is the wrong person. If you see someone coming around the cabin, I want you to come and get me right away. If you see someone with a gun, I want you to run away as fast as you can, but don’t run in a straight line. This afternoon we’ll play a game and I’ll show you what I mean.”
James’ lower lip began to tremble, and Justin placed the Glock in his belt and reached out to caress his son’s cheek. “Don’t worry, kiddo. There’s nothing to be afraid of right now. Just remember: if you see anyone around here, come and get me.”
“And if they have a gun, run away,” James repeated.
Justin nodded and smiled at him reassuringly. “And never touch the rifle or the handgun.”
“Daddy,” James whispered. “Is it okay to be scared?”
“Yes, Jim, it’s okay to be scared,” Justin said calmly. “But I am right here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
He wrapped his son in a hug as James began to cry. He wished he could say that everything was going to be alright, but he didn’t want to lie to a child.
“Come on,” he said when James’ sobs dwindled to a stuttering sniffle. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff.”