Nightfall
By A. G. Smith
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About this ebook
She had never heard of snow in southern Illinois in October!! But then so many unusual things had transpired in the last few weeks.
Could it be that such a short time had passed since her world had turned topsy-turvy, and in that turning brought more turmoil than one could imagine? Yet it had also solved some of the problems which had harassed mankind for many years.
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Nightfall - A. G. Smith
© Copyright 2013 A. G. Smith.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
isbn: 978-1-4669-8379-3 (sc)
isbn: 978-1-4669-8378-6 (e)
Trafford rev. 03/21/2013
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Contents
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
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XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth,
and gross darkness the people:
Isaiah 60:2a
DEDICATIONS
To my children:
Arletta Ruth Nobbe Vestal
Nathan Charles Nobbe
Cherith Ann Nobbe
To my grandchildren:
Steven Clark Sabath
Marci Ann Sabath French
Kyle Alexander Nobbe
Bethany Noelle Nobbe
In memory of my daughter
Carol Jeanne Nobbe
And
All Those
Who Have Gone Before
PROLOGUE
Reneé Ketchler stood looking out through the kitchen window of her home to the back porch where Jack Frost had etched fern-fronds on the outside of the storm windows. Beyond that artistry laid the beauty of a snow-white world.
She had never heard of snow in southern Illinois in October!! But then so many unusual things had transpired in the last few weeks.
Could it be that such a short time had passed since her world had turned topsy-turvy, and in that turning brought more turmoil than one could imagine? Yet it had also solved some of the problems which had harassed mankind for many years.
The bizarre occurrence had come unannounced, but perhaps not entirely unforeseen. Intent on daily living, the human race had not listened to the cumulative warnings or detected the hidden signals. In the time which followed, man would always debate whether the attributing factor in the catastrophe had been the whim of Mother Nature or the wisdom of almighty God. Perhaps both; where does one end and the other begin? Or are they one and the same?
I
The Fourth of July had been a devastatingly-hot day in southern Illinois: a lazy day that held no hint of disaster to come. Seeking relief from the heat and taking advantage of the holiday for family reunions and a break in the busy summer, peoples headed for lakes and parks, or simply relaxed in shady backyards.
The southern tip of the state, bounded by three rivers and the Old National Trail, contained nearly every type of terrain, including flat prairies, gently-rolling lands, river-bluffs, verdant forests, and the range of hills formed by the terminal moraine of the ice-field eons ago.
The region had been touched by the finger of history and had seen the footprints of the famous and the infamous. It had been a refuge for many races of men and had often been the scene of bloody conflicts between those races. The area had been strategically important in two major wars. Here were located brawling river-towns and caves where river-pirates hid out. Here also were found salt-springs, old iron-furnaces, coal mines, oil fields, and some of the best farmland in the country.
The region sometimes called Little Egypt and dubbed the Bible Belt, was alternately loved and hated by those who lived there. During floods, droughts, tornados, freezing-cold winters, and blistering-hot summers, it could be a miserable place. But when its people traveled to other parts of the globe and returned to the beauty of this area, they agreed that there was no place on God’s Earth to compare with southern Illinois.
This summer had been unusually hot, much like the one of 1954 when the temperature had soared above 100° in mid-summer. The Fourth of July holiday was always an opportunity for a brief respite and most people took advantage of it in one way or another.
Dave and Reneé Ketchler and their young daughter Suzanne packed a picnic basket, loaded lawn-chairs into the station-wagon, and in a short time reached a favorite spot in the Little Ozarks State Park. They all loved the out-of-doors. Before eating the picnic dinner, they took a leisurely hike down the Old Deer Trail, and by that time were ready for food and rest.
The afternoon passed quietly, amid the song of birds and the drone of bees. Dave unfolded the light-weight chaise-longue and settled down for a much-needed nap. He had suffered for many years with a heart ailment which threatened periodically to snuff out his life. Formerly a vigorous, healthy man, it had been a difficult day for him when he finally came to terms with the worsening heart condition and decided to call quits to his military career. The last years of service had been spent in an office because of the forced inactivity and that kind of life was no longer a challenge for David Ketchler.
So they had come back to Liberty, built a home and a shop for his woodworking, and there he turned a life-long hobby into a fulltime occupation of sorts, crafting beautiful handmade furniture. It required careful husbanding of his strength and the occasional help of his wife.
On this holiday, Reneé stretched out lazily on a blanket on the ground. Very little breeze stirred the leaves of the huge old tree which gave them shade from the hot summer sun. A blue haze overlaid the landscape. The air was sultry and humid—the kind of atmosphere that brewed vicious electrical storms, with lightning zigzagging up and down the sky and thunder that could shake the house and rattle the windows.
At the moment there were no thunder-heads on the horizon, so Reneé relaxed and allowed her mind to muse over the lives of those dear to her and the remembrance of the years gone by. Suzanne passed the afternoon searching the stream nearby for rock specimens. She had become a full-fledged rock-hound and was forever glancing at interesting stones to assess their character and value. At scarcely seventeen, she was already enrolled in college with a science-major in view.
As Reneé dozed in the summer afternoon, she subconsciously sensed a change in the atmosphere.
Coming out of her deep lethargy, she became aware of unusual sounds in the trees and undergrowth. All during the hot, still day, no wildlife had stirred. Only occasionally could a birdsong be heard. It was a sleepy, tranquil time. But now it had changed, from hundreds of birds and animals could be heard threshing frantically through the brush.
Reneé wondered if a thunderstorm could have approached so quickly. She searched the sky. No clouds were to be seen. She closed her eyes again and listened. Perhaps some strange animal had come through the area, unknown and unwelcome, threatening the safety of the local wildlife.
This, then, was the scene at five o’clock when darkness fell, nearly three hours ahead of schedule. So sudden, so solid, so encompassing, it paralyzed every living creature.
Absolute silence descended. The animals ceased their rushing through the woods, and the birds were quiet. Then Reneé realized that there was no sunlight beyond her closed eyelids. Opening them, she found that she could see nothing—absolutely nothing!
They were surrounded by total darkness.
A terrible roaring sound broke the stillness, and overhead tree branches could be heard snapping under the attack of fierce crosswinds.
At that moment, Suzanne screamed. Somewhere upstream, wading barefoot over the rocks in the cool water, she could no longer see the footbridge over the trail, nor the large oak tree under which they had eaten lunch. The water had turned colder by several degrees.
An exclamation of surprise came from Dave on the chaise-longue, a few feet from where Reneé now sat staring into utter blackness.
Get to the car!
Dave shouted.
The wind blew with staggering velocity, bringing with it stinging particles of icy grit. The gale surged and whipped. The landscape had disappeared in the darkness that permeated every atom of the universe. Afterward, Reneé could never recall which came first: the wind or the roar or the darkness.
She felt the urge to round up the family and get them ‘under her wing’, in the old mother-hen instinct. She stood up and faced what she hoped to be Suzanne’s location upstream. Taking turns calling out desperately, they moved toward each other. The wind caught their cries and hurled them back and forth. When finally their fingers touched, they clutched for dear-life, and Reneé cautioned her daughter, Hold tight to my hand, Suzy. We’ll try to get to the car.
Feeling the terrain carefully with their shoeless feet, and reaching out with free hands, they moved inch-by-inch, hoping to touch something familiar with which to determine their location.
In a few moments, their groping hands felt the rough surface of the old oak tree and they inched their way around it, assuming that the picnic table would be just on the other side. They were right. Securely set in concrete against theft and vandalism, it stood solid in the wind.
Now, dear, make a left turn. That should be east. Walk straight ahead. The car will be a few feet in that direction.
But Mom, you come too!
I have to help your father; I don’t know where he is.
She hesitated a moment. All right, dear. Come on.
Turning toward what she prayed would be east, Reneé set her jaw and stepped determinedly away from the security of the tree. Sense of direction was completely nil. But this had to be the way. If not, all was lost. Eight steps. Nine. Ten. Reneé caught her breath. They should have reached the station-wagon by now.
Suzanne still clutched her mother’s hand in a tight grip.
Mom, what will we do?
Her voice rose in terror. The wind whipped their bodies and the cold pellets of ice and sand stung their faces and limbs. Their summer clothing provided scant protection in the swirling wind elements.
Now, honey, try to remain calm. We’ll go just a bit further.
Two more steps and they touched the refuge of the car, the metal still warm from the July sun.
Quick! Get in. I must go back and help Dad.
Reneé stood against the car and got her bearings. Then, retracing her steps, she came to the table. Four steps further, the overturned chaise-longue. But no David.
She cried frantically, David!
The sound reverberated in the darkness.
She searched with hands outstretched and bare feet now sore from the rough ground. Her breath came in choking gasps. In moments she knew she was lost. She had no idea where the car was, nor the picnic area and the tree. Terrified, she screamed, Suzanne!
If only they had thought to turn on the headlights. She shivered in the chilly wind. Then stumbled and fell. Unaware that she was praying silently, she cried again into the swirling gusts, Suzanne!
The syllables echoed and came back to her. But with the sound came the voice of her daughter.
Mom! Over here!
Oh, thanks be!
Reneé sobbed. "Suzanne, turn on