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.