Phoebe's Heart of Stone

“Rusty, come here boy.”
The air had an eerie silence about it, and nothing could
be heard but that old brown dog, Rusty, as they called
him, barking with such despair out over the thinly frozen
ice-covered Mahoning River. The same stretch of river that
Carl fished in with his boys when the thinning ice was a
distant reminder of the cold that had once come and would
return in a few months’ time. The very same untamed river
that they watched dumb ducks waddle aimlessly back and
forth with no apparent reason, dropping out of sight for a
quick dip to cool themselves from a blazing hot sun, and
then emerging once again shaking off the droplets of water.
The children would be back in the family home, just a
short distance from the frozen river’s edge, so Carl wanted
to just quickly grab old Rusty, pull him by hand and drag
him back towards home. It was supper time, and he had
just worked an extremely long hard day as a Teamster,
driving a delivery truck for Standard Oil and Company.
All he wanted to do was get home, sit down in his chair
with his family and eat.
It was January the eighteenth in the year 1919. The country
was still in the midst of the deadly Spanish Flu pandemic,
that would eventually kill an estimated 675,000 Americans
in just two short years. Carl had lost so much already and
wasn’t willing to let this new pandemic take more from him.
He was now only concerned with protecting those of his
family who had somehow averted its horrible, deadly wrath.
Alliance, Ohio, was just like any other small town of its

time, trying simply to survive a pandemic that took mercy
on no class, nor man, woman, or child. During the Fall of
1918, the townspeople decided to shut down everything
they could to try to control the impending spread of the
virus that would grow like wildfire throughout the rest of
the world. Eventually, it would claim some fifty million
souls worldwide. The people sprayed down streets, closed
the doors to the local YMCA, and ordered all children not
to take anything home with them from their schools. Those
same schools were disinfected nightly after the last class
of the day, and people did what they could to control the
spread throughout their humble blue-collar town.
Yet, life still went on as time dictated it would. Folks still
had to work to survive. Farms needed to be tended to, and
children still needed to be educated on the ways of the world,
so that they could take over the reins of what their parents
would one day leave behind. It was a continuous life cycle
that could not be broken, although for the time being, sadly it
was being interrupted in a way that was disastrous to people
and businesses. There seemed to be no reason or explanation
for any of it, and people looked to the heavens for answers
and understanding. They looked to their parents, and to their
clergy. They looked to their politicians and begged for information
and relief. No one seemed to be able to soothe their
fears or answer their questions adequately, and it became
obvious that the people of Alliance would simply need to ride
out the virus’ deadly destructive path through their little town
with simple hope and prayer. The people of the town quietly
prayed, “Not me God. Dear God, please, not my family.”

Chapter 1
The Storm
* * *
Maybe John Emmer was right. That August sky
in 1892 did appear as if there were a strange
brilliance to it, and the wind had suddenly
whipped up a sound of frustration desperate to be heard.
John felt a storm was heading their way and perhaps it
was time to gather the loose hens roaming just outside the
gate and bring them on in. He removed his soft felt hat and
using a white cotton handkerchief that he had in his rear
pocket, gently wiped his brow. The sun had been beating
down upon his now scarlet face for the better part of the
day. His wife, Mary, had stepped outside to see what the
noise was.
“John, I hear the animals rustling all the way from the
kitchen. What do you suppose is going on?” she said as
she looked around at the leaves being sprayed off their
tree limbs, floating higher into the air in a nearly perfect
circular motion.
“A storm’s coming, Mary. Wicked one. Better get the

kids inside and I’ll see to the animals,” he replied.
The farm was a modest one. They had more crops than
livestock, but still John would need to hurry along to ensure
all the animals were under cover and safely tucked away
from the looming storm. John needed to be quick but smart.
Grab the animals that were slower and a little dumber first,
then help those that struggled in the confusion to get past
gates, and ensure they were all locked in tight and secure.
It was normally a mundane task, but the sky grew dark
with anger, and the air grew crisp and bold within minutes.
He knew that at any moment, the sky would open up and
unleash the rain that would cascade down onto where he
now stood, bringing with it only God knew what.
Carl came dashing out of the home just as the rain
started to pelt the warm earth below his feet and asked his
pa how he could help.
“There! Grab the goats and get them in! They are nervous
and stuck in their place. I’ll get the horses. Hurry!”
his pa screamed.
Carl sprang to his right and ran with all he had towards
the goats as he tried to dodge as much of the rain as the
now closing sky would allow. When he finally reached the
goats, the rain was growing fierce. It came down heavy and
slammed hard onto the pen he was forcing the goats into.
He could feel the sting of each hard drop on the top of
his head and shoulders and begged for the animals to just
comply, so that he could get to cover himself. Two wayward
billies had been stubborn, or perhaps scared out of their
minds and tried to push through the fence that lined the

area that they were in. Carl ran over, slipping through the
mud created by the puddling rain on top of the hard earth
below, and came to rest right near the stunned billies. As
he grabbed one under his arms, it began to cry an awful
noise, but he paid it no mind. He knew it did not understand
what he was doing and would be thankful later. He
tried to simultaneously drag the other one along with him
but could not get a solid grip. He made the only choice he
could and ran with the one, with the intent to go back to
get the other; hoping he could lock them both down before
returning to the safety of the farmhouse where his parents
were surely waiting with his siblings.
John finished securing the horses in their stable and
nervously looked around to make sure there were no rogue
animals milling about the farm. It was getting harder to see
through the dense rain under the thick black sky. He called
out for Carl, as he could no longer see through the deluge.
The wind and rain were creating such an awful commotion
that he could barely hear himself think, let alone see more
than a few feet in front of him. Not knowing how Carl
had faired getting the goats away, he rushed blindly over
to where he instinctually knew the pen was, even though
it was impossible to see.
When he was maybe 12 feet away, he was able to make
out an outline of sorts, and knew it had to be Carl.
“Carl, get them in! We need to get inside now!”
As he finished his demands, through the barreling rain
and crying winds, came a loud racket just north of where
he saw Carl’s outline a second prior. Cries through the air

came towards John, as he realized what happened. The large
wind turbine had collapsed and toppled over onto the pen
area where Carl had been chasing the billies trying to get
them to safety. For a second, he heard nothing, and then,
there it was: a cry for help coming from just over the fence.
John pushed forward, with no regard for his own safety,
and reached out to feel for the fence with his hands. As his
fingers grazed the tip of the fence, he grabbed ahold and
using all his strength, pulled his body over the top, dropping
hard on the other side onto the soaked ground below.
“Carl?” He cried out.
“Pa? Pa, I’m hurt. Somethings got my leg pinned and I
can’t get it unstuck,” Carl cried out in sheer pain and panic.
John felt his way over to where he heard his son’s pleas
and grabbed onto whatever he could. As he moved his
body along the wet surface, he could feel long pieces of
warm metal alongside his hands and legs. He dragged his
body closer to where Carl was laying, and eventually, he
was able to reach his boy.
“Carl, son, I’m here. What hurts, son?”
“Pa, my leg. It’s stuck under something, and it’s a
God-awful pain.”
Without another word, John went to work. He quickly
assessed the situation, felt around to see what exactly Carl’s
leg was pinned down by, and rapidly devised a plan to
move it off him. The old wooden fence was destroyed from
the fall, so John was able to grab a split post and placed
it underneath the twisted metal from the broken turbine.
He told Carl that he would need to act fast and use all his

might to pull himself to safety just as soon as he gave the
go ahead. Carl did not respond, but John knew that his
boy understood.
Carl was an extraordinarily hardworking young boy
and always understood the task before him. Whenever
he worked alongside his pa on the farm, he knew instinctively
what was needed two steps ahead. His brain was
remarkable like that. It was almost like he knew what
the future would bring and so he met it halfway as if to
say “gotcha!”, before it could surprise him. His pa knew
this and so whenever they worked side by side, he did not
question his son much. There was a level of trust that simply
existed between the two of them, and it was without
doubt clear now.
As the rain picked up and the wind roared louder than
before, John knew it was now or never. He forced the
bottom end of the post as deep as he could under the turbine,
and with one swift motion, he placed all his weight,
using his armpit as an anchor, onto that post. When his
full body mass was leveraged against the pry he was using,
he screamed to Carl,
“Now boy!”
In a matter of just a second or two, the weight from the
turbine was lifted a few inches into the air, and swiftly fell
back down, slamming on the ground with an intense force
and making a terrible sound. John’s arm took the brunt
of the impact, and his shoulder was torn from its socket.
He cried out in deep pain and grabbed onto his shoulder,
realizing in that instant that he still did not know whether

he had freed his son from under that heavy frame. If Carl
were indeed still pinned down, John did not know if he
had it in him to give it another go with the same brute
force he had just exerted. Lifting the turbine took all his
strength, and here he was, injured and wondering if he, in
fact, had managed to help his son as he had so desperately
set out to do.
He was exhausted, in agonizing pain, and numb from the
torrential rain that poured mercilessly against his body. It
was still difficult to hear anything other than the howling
wind circling them, but he knew at least he was by his boy.
His hope was that Carl had been able to muster up just
enough strength to pull free, and they would simply wait
out the storm, however long that may take.
Mary, still inside, had no idea what was taking her husband
and son so long and she grew increasingly concerned
for the two of them. Maybe they had decided to sit it out
in the barn with the horses. Or perhaps they decided that
the pen was a safe place until the storm settled. Either way,
she was terribly worried, but knew she needed to be as
patient as she could be and hope that Mother Nature had
a little mercy on them all. So far, she had not. The powerful
storm that came out of nowhere and had not even given
them a few minutes to gather themselves together before
she unleashed her raw power and intense, unforgiving fury
down on all of Alliance, was not yet ready to relent.
Over by the downed turbine and shattered fence, lay
two silhouettes bathed in the downpour and hidden by the
sheer force of the storm. Mother Nature would not let up,

so John and Carl were forced to stay where they were to
face her wrath, endure their pain, and pray that she would
give them a small break. Carl prayed she would let up,
just enough to give them a chance. All John wanted was a
fighting chance, and he felt he had earned it. He knew he
needed to gather his strength, so he rested in agony on the
ground waiting for whatever came next and readying himself
to continue the fight. John had given all he had to save
his son, and he lay there wondering if it had been enough.
Suddenly, just as it had rifled in from the west, the storm
began to quickly clear out, as if to say, “That was what I
had to serve to you, and now I am rather bored and moving
on to another town.” She was finished with her destruction,
and her incredible fury had calmed. Her tears departed one
by one, until only a trickle of her cry remained in the air
around them. The wind she howled with such intensity died
down as well, and now simply whispered through the trees
in her passing, allowing what few leaves she took mercy
on to bow in her absence. Finally, John was able to stretch
out and look over to his boy, Carl, to see if he had indeed
freed him from the weight and agony that the storm had
cast on him for reasons only she knew.
Carl sat up, using his lean arms to hold his weight, and
in an astonished state of confusion, looked around at the
destruction left in the storm’s wake. The frightened billie
he had run out to retrieve in that final moment, was laying
silent and motionless just a foot from his arms. He had not
been able to save her from the terrible storm, as hard as
he tried. That hurt Carl enough that he still was unaware

the shape of his legs that only moment prior had been
pinned to the earth by a manmade wind generator.
John crawled over with his one good arm, dragging
his bad one behind, and placed it onto Carl’s shoulder.
He looked up at his boy and forced a smile through his
intense pain.
“She tried, didn’t she? She tried like hell to whip us,
but she failed. She didn’t know who she was messing with
huh?” John said through tears of relief and laughter.
“No, Pa, she did not. We showed her who’s boss around
these parts, that’s for sure,” Carl replied, with less of a smile,
because he knew that at any moment, he was going to feel
the effects of what had happened to his legs.
Mary, along with the other children that John Emmer
and Mary had raised together, dashed outside as soon as
they could see beyond the air in front of them. They carefully
maneuvered to where both John and Carl were laying
and asked how they were. Mary could see that her husband,
John, was trying to hide his pain as he always did, but he
was in severe agony. She knew he would need tended to
medically more than she could provide, so she quickly told
one of the boys to go and fetch the doc, who lived about
two miles down the road. John was a man full of pride,
and merely proud that he had reached his son and had
been able to somehow pry his legs free of the metal that
tried to take his boy away, all without being able to see a
thing. That was unequivocally all he cared about in that
moment. So the pain would need to just be patient with
him a

nd wait its turn.