The Prophecy - Conclusion

September 13, 2013

I immediately decided not to tell him that I’d seen a frog of some sort. Maybe a baby frog? It wasn’t more that a half-inch in size. I’d seen the first one jump out of my path as I took a step. I kept my eyes glued as I walked and sure enough a second tiny frog jumped out of my path and into the brush next to the stream. He’ll think I’m crazier than I already am if I’m wrong, so I’ll wait for now.

All day I thought about the frogs. I wondered if they, or more likely their parents, had been underwater when “it” happened. I wondered if maybe the water somehow protected them.

Now I can’t wait to visit the lake.

September 14, 2013

I convinced him to drive to the lake tomorrow. “It’s Sunday tomorrow. What better day for a visit to a lake? Just like old times. We can even take our old tandem kayak. If the water looks safe, that is.” He agreed. He has more experience with kayaks, especially the tandem, which is tricky for me. He’ll be in back. It’ll be my job to be on the watch for rocks and such, especially if the lake is low as we expect.

September 15, 2013

The lake was low, at least six feet lower than when we’d visited last, which was over a year ago. I climbed in and we pushed off. The lake has about a hundred homes on it, occupied by both “summer weekenders” and “full-timers.” Most of the lake is privately owned property, but there is a small public beach and boat ramp. The homes on the lake vary from smallish log cabins on 1/2 acre lots to some newer, large uspcale homes on 10+ acres. We see no people. It was winter when “it” occurred, so few folks would’ve been outside. On a fall morning like this, the lake would be populated with at least a few boats of men out fishing. And maybe some homeowners sitting out drinking coffee? We paddle around the shore of the lake. Well, what is the current shore, for now with the low water, there are some homes that are really ‘beachfront’ and not what the realtor would call ‘waterfront.’ In fact, if we wanted we could probably walk or wade around the entire lakefront. The boats and lifts would have all been pulled from the lake sometime in late October, so it’s basically empty, except for the homes.

I’m on the look for fish or water snakes or amphibians or the like. Between paddles, he’s got his eye on the houses. He keeps sighing and shaking his head, as if ‘such a waste.’ 

At one point, where the water is about 4 feet deep, I was certain I saw what looked like a catfish. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and we headed back to the beach area.

September 17, 2013

It rained again last night and this time the rain gauge showed nearly 1/2 inch. It’s been raining a bit more lately. That should be a good sign, right?

He’s been busy working on our outdoor wood-burning furnace. With no one to refill our tank, we can’t rely on propane to heat the house this winter.  So he’s converting our shed to a furnace, that will pipe hot air into the house. We’d appropriated the materials from a local hardware store. He say it’s got to be away from the house, in case of fire. “And if you ever run out of wood, just get some silage from one of the farms. It’ll burn just as good as the wood.” “Don’t leave me!” I wail. He thinks I’m kidding.

I tell him I’m going to take a walk by the stream. He says I should instead be watching him put the heating system in, so I can understand how it works. “You can teach me all about it, when you’re finished.” “You laugh, but you need to learn how to take care of this equipment.” “I will, I will.”

I was hoping the rain might bring the frogs out. I find one and it’s easier than I’d thought to catch it. It’s pretty small, but it’s definitely a frog. I put it in a little box I brought along. I couldn’t wait to get back and surprise him.

He’s surprised, but ambivalent about the frog. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy as can be,” he says, “I’m just worried about you handling it. You should have used gloves.”

September 29, 2013

I’ve been getting regular lessons in how to operate every piece of equipment we have. He makes me take notes and quizzes me daily. “Why all the fuss? You’re not leaving me are you?” “No, Silly, but if I ever get sick, I need to know I can count on you.”

He makes me take the frog back to the stream. I ask him when we can go back to the lake to look for fish. “Soon,” he says, “but right now we have to get things in place for the winter. We might have to hunker down for a couple of months.”

He also has decided that every other day we will shoot off some of the flares we found in one of the lake houses. We set them off midday and again after dark. “Might as well see if we can get spotted.” Big turnaround, now he wants us to be found. I like to think my frog has given him hope.

October 14, 2013

We’ve gone through many of the lake houses, and the machine sheds at Ralph’s and the Roody’s farms. Taking mostly bottled water, canned food and fuel. But thanks to the farms, we also now have two ATVs, two snowmobiles, and a small tractor with a backhoe. He’s also gone through every medicine cabinet. “What are you looking for?” I ask. “I don’t know. Just looking.”

This morning when he was putting on his socks, I thought I saw him wince in pain. “Are you okay?” He looks up and smiles. “Yep, I’m fine. Just a bit stiff. Gettin’ old, you know.”

October 20, 2013

It occurs to me that he hasn’t wanted to have sex lately, and that he’s taken to having a couple shots of whiskey every night. He sleeps on the far side of the bed, away from me. When he gets up in the middle of the night to urinate, I sometimes call out after him, “Don’t leave me!” It’s supposed to be a joke, and he always laughs.

Tonight when he came back to bed and turned away, I rubbed his back. I was sure that he flinched.

October 21, 2013

I ruffle his hair and ask “Don’t you need a haircut. Your hair is getting a little long.” Then, I saw the sore on his ear.

I thought about that medical encyclopedia he’d taken from one of the lake houses.  I searched the house for it. I found it on the floor, under his side of the bed. I want to look up the word ‘lesion,’ but a bookmark falls out on the page titled ‘skin cancer.’

October 22, 2013 

Today we buried the Roody family, Ralph, his wife and older two children, who still lived at home and finally our neighbor, Rick.

We used the tractor and backhoe. I said the prayers at each home site. Then we came home and burned the clothes we’d worn. He said, “Tick.”

“Tick? What’s that mean?”

“Just another item checked off my list.”

October 23, 2013 

Today was cold, so we tested the wood-burning furnace. I got her started all on my own. He seemed pleased that I was so competent. “You’re really paying attention.”

“Well, writing the description in my journal helps.”

He smiles. He’s thinking about my handwritten journal. It’s one of the first jobs he gave me back when we made plans to go underground. “You like to write, so go for it.”

Even though he’d censured me at first, “The purpose of the journal is to leave a record. That is if we survive, and if someone finds us someday. We’ll have a record of the logistics of how we accomplished it, a written description of our specs, equipment and so on. So, they don’t need to hear about your excitement, fears or sadness. Keep your emotion out of it. Now, don’t cry...”

November 1, 2013 

He’s taught me well. I can be a good student when I wish to apply myself.

Tonight I have given him a sleeping pill. It looks just like the glucosamine he takes to fend off arthritis.

When he’s asleep, when I’m sure he’s really asleep, I’ll go outside and rework the furnace. I’ve got the new piping I’ll use all laid out under the deck. I’ll run the piping from the garage to the house. I’ll turn off all of the vents except the vent to our bedroom. I’ll start the car, which I filled with siphoned gas today. I’ll start the car, let it idle after I’ve connected the exhaust to the piping. I’ll go in our bedroom, close the door and stuff the top and bottom of the door with some wool batting. Then I’ll lay down next to him and wait.

They’ll say it’s wrong, and I’m sorry. But, I won’t watch him keep getting sicker. And, I won’t watch him suffer and worry and fret about me. And I won’t live alone. Call me a coward, if you wish.

If you find my computer journal - I’m leaving it out and open - and if you’re the type who cares more about the ‘logistics,’ go find my handwritten journal. It’s on the desk in the office.

Wish me luck.....