An Unexplained Visitor
Chapter 3
Hans
Continuing my survey of the room, I allowed my gaze to roam from right to left. As my eyes traveled about the room, I noticed that the room was small and rectangular. The room was about 12' wide by 10' long.
The room nestled between the barn and the house. It was near the smokehouse that set to the north of the room without being attached to either.
The road from the main highway leading to the house and barn lay off to the east by about thirty yards.
There were two windows. One was located south of the farmhouse. The window looked out on the yard and up to the road and the cornfields beyond.
Soon, I would need to know where the main highway led. The other window on the north wall framed the side of the smokehouse and the hayfields beyond.
A pond of about ten acres sat to the far northeast corner of the hayfield. Its dark gray waters reflecting the low floating, ominous clouds. The early spring storm, which had kept lingering in the southwestern sky, had threatened to begin all afternoon.
I allowed my eyes to wander to the open door on the wall to the left side of the bed. I was sure the small room contained a bathroom. The other door on the right of the bed must be a closet.
Both rooms would occupy the back of the small house designed for a special person. That person must have been Billy.
A room to himself, I thought. At first, I thought it was a wonderful idea. It would be a place where Billy could paint, or where now, I can write.
However, there was a sudden, nauseating feeling that overcame me. I could not explain the sudden feeling of despair and hopelessness in the pit of my stomach.
Something had triggered these feelings. I recognized the culprit. The windows and doors didn't have locks on them. Not unusual. My Amish home had no locks on either.
As I walked further into the room, I shut the door behind me. I entered the room and began to undress. I laid my one clean set of clothes on the bed and walked towards the bathroom.
I walked into the bathroom. There was a counter with the sink built into it.
Above the sink was a mirror. The mirror was on a door to a medicine cabinet.
The cabinet held toothpaste, various over the counter drugs, a toothbrush—brand new and still in a clear, cellophane wrapper.
I jumped into the shower. I felt refreshed and clean when I came out.
I toweled dry and walked to the bed to put on my clean clothes. After I dressed, I was prepared to leave the room to go to the kitchen and eat dinner.
As I touched the doorknob to open the door, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, a loud clap of thunder followed on the heel of the strike and the electricity went off. I thought the doorknob must have been the switch to turn off the lights.
I made a quick dash across the yard to enter the house through the kitchen door. As I closed the door behind me, the rain fell in buckets full.
Thunder and lightning invaded the countryside. Martha could be seen during the flashes moving about the kitchen setting the food on the table.
John came in with a lamp lit. He sat the lamp in the center of the table.
Looks like the family was going to eat by lamp light tonight. The lightning and thunder continued. The flashes of golden light were so bright, I felt blinded by the light.
Suddenly, in the distance could be heard the unmistakable sound of a tornado coming. The deafening roar of the cyclone could be heard well before it came near.
The ominous roar, recognized by those who had experienced the power and destructive force of one, was close, now. I joined John and Martha under the huge kitchen table as the roar pressed ever nearer. I had no idea what protection the table could offer.
Lying underneath the table, I could feel the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. The electrifying sensation of my hair on the back of my neck standing on end came to me. I could recognize the breath-taking sensation of a powerful weight crushing my frame against the floor.
Just before the black funnel of destruction tore into the home, it lifted, soared about 500 feet and then returned to the ground.
An old elm tree that had stood for years became the first target of this natural disaster. The force of the tornado ripped the tree out by its roots and deposited it several feet away from the hole in the ground.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, the tornado was gone leaving behind the deafening silence of a world swept clean as if by a magical power.
No corruption that might have permeated nature's soft signs of spring were left.
Outside the windows, flashes of lightening still broke the total blackness of night. However, the streaks were further away now.
Yet, what amazed me after the storm there was a man standing under one of the spruce trees and half hidden. However, the flashes of lightening exposed the man. Made him visible.
The man had a hat on which appeared to be strapped to his head. His beard was coal black—blacker than the night outside.
His craggy mane of hair hung in matted, wet strips to his shoulders. His eyes had a menacing air set to them, and his whole countenance was one of hate and trepidation as though Satan were settled in him alone.
An uncontrollable chill ran up my spine evoking a whimper of fear to develop inside the very core of my being. I had no idea why fear at the sight of this demon possessed man washed over me. Fear could stem from the fact that the man stood under a spruce tree without fear as a tornado soared overhead.
Was this man watching me and the room I stayed in? I thought. Could he see me under the table, or was the darkness hiding me? I nearly whimpered once again.
However, the next streak of lightning showed no one standing under the spruce tree. The man was gone. Had he ever been there?
I wondered. Had my overactive mind played tricks? Surely no human in their right mind would be out in a storm of the magnitude of the one just past.
I began to question the vision I had witnessed. There was a tornado, a torrential downpour of rain, thunder and lightning playing everywhere. No way could a human withstand such a storm outside on his own. Considering all the variables, I had to wonder if I really did see someone.
Yet, for all my doubts and fretful imaginings, I was left filled with fear.
At that Moment, John grabbed me and asked if I were alright. With a sudden start and an animalistic growl erupting from my throat, I sprang away from the hand on my leg.
I jumped to my feet and turned to meet the intruder face on. Finally, I quit struggling as a vaguely familiar voice said, "Calm down, Hans. Are you alright? Hans, it's John. You know me. I wouldn't think of hurting you. Calm down, lad!"
I quit struggling and sank into a chair. "Yes-ss, I'm uh-uh, O.K." I stammered. "Your grabbing my leg caused me to release all the tension the storm brought."
I couldn't tell John about the apparition I had seen. John and Martha would think I'm crazy.
"Everything going fine here?" Martha asked as she came around the table.
"Yes ma'am. All is well. A bit tense, I guess," I replied. "Was there any damage?"
"We haven't found any," John said. "I think the tornado lifted just before it came near the house. All the trees in front of and around the house look intact."
Maybe that explained why the man disappeared. John had been outside looking for damage. The man could have seen him coming and ran away.
John continued, "First thing in the morning, we'll take a ride around the farm. We'll look for damage and check on the livestock."
"We've had close calls before," Martha added. "So far nothing has ever happened to our property. Maybe we have been lucky once again."
"We were quite worried about how you would react," John admitted. "Glad you are alright."
"Seems we were all supernaturally protected in here," I said. "Years ago, in La Grange County, we had a tornado. It ripped our barn to shreds, killed two of our milk cows and tore down two of our big shade trees.
One of the trees hit the corner of our house. I crawled under the bed. The bed probably saved my life.
A huge oak limb crashed through the roof and landed on the bed. The mattress had some uncomfortable humps in it afterwards.
However, not a lot of other damage was done. Besides, we survived."
Suddenly, I stopped myself. As I searched for the faces of John and Martha, I nearly panicked.
I wondered if I could trust them with the information I had suddenly divulged? The sudden release of all the fear and anxieties brought about by the storm along with the apparition standing under the tree gave me diarrhea of the mouth.
I had said 'La Grange County.' If the Sammons heard, they didn't let on.
Never before, thought Hans, have I ever shared so much about myself. Shared about myself to perfect strangers, English nonetheless.
Afterwards, I said nothing more about myself or my former life until much later.
Martha interrupted Hans' thoughts and broke the strange silence with, "We'd better hurry and eat before everything ruins. I don't want to throw good food out."
As the family sat down, I reasoned, all of this has been a case of nerves. My nerves were stretched taught. There must be a logical explanation.
When I sat at the table, the delicious aroma of the food grabbed my attention. My negative thoughts began to vanish from my mind.
My hungry stomach took over all thoughts. Martha had baked biscuits, fried chicken and made mashed potatoes. A package of snow peas frozen last summer had been added to the meal. Martha also made creamed gravy from the drippings of the fried chicken.
After the blessing, the family began eating. My mother cooked delicious meals. The meals I ate at home compared favorably with Martha's cooking. Both my mother and Martha could cook excellent meals.
Throughout the evening meal, I thought about the ordeal in the room. I was quiet and reflective as I ate; however, the gloomy memories flashing in and out of my mind had little effect on my appetite.
The fried chicken tasted better than the chicken my mom cooked. Added to this fine table fare were mashed potatoes smothered in yellow, home churned butter, snow peas from the freezer, picked fresh and young, corn so sweet I thought Martha might have added sugar to it.
When I asked about the corn, I learned that it was Sugar and Cream corn grown in her garden. Also, there was cornbread made with real buttermilk.
It tasted better than any bread I had ever eaten. I simply felt as though I couldn't get filled up.
When I thought I couldn't eat another bite, Martha walked to the pantry and brought out a coconut crème pie topped high with meringue toasted a light brown.
She poured me another glass of milk. The coconut pie was heavenly. It could have been the best part of the meal.
"Ms. Martha," I said, rubbing my taught stomach, "I've never ate anything so wonderful in my life."
Martha beamed and replied, "Weren't nothing, son. I'm sure glad you enjoyed it. Kinda pays you for the work John told me you did this afternoon."
Had John really talked to Martha about my work? I thought, amused at the idea. Maybe they just might let me stay awhile. No, I can't rely on that. I'll need to leave in the morning.
As if in perfect response to my thoughts and as if I were thinking out loud, John asked, "Can you help me haul manure for a couple days? I'm so far behind, and I sure could use some help. I can pay you $3.00 per day and room and board."
I nearly blurted out my answer to John, but I caught myself in time to turn my eagerness into a, "Well, I was considering leaving in the morning, but if you really need me to help, I'd be glad to pitch in."
"Great!" John said. "We'll start in the morning at first light, then."
"Martha, does the bed have enough covers on it?" John asked his wife.
"I'm sure the quilts will be plenty for this time of the year, but just in case, I'll send a couple extra with Hans when he goes," She beamed.
"Hans," John asked. "How good are you at checkers?"
"Not too good. However, I do love the game. Can we play a couple of games before bedtime?"
"You betcha."
John moved towards a closet where the board was stored. There wasn't much of a game to it. I lost real quickly. Actually, it took him longer to set up his pieces then the game lasted.
"How'd you get so good?" Hans asked admiringly.
"Lots of practice," John replied. "Let me show you a big secret to checkers. Only the really good checker players figure this out.
"Always control the two center squares located on your side of the board in the fourth row up from your baseline. Your first move should always be to one of these squares.
If you do that one thing plus always make trades when you are playing the black checkers, you are almost assured of a draw. Then, if your opponent makes a mistake, you can win."
"Wow!" I retorted. "Why did you tell me this?"
"I guess I just have taken a liking to you, boy," John shot back with a faraway look in his eyes. "You kinda remind me of someone I knew several years back.
"He had to leave too suddenly as if this world wasn't large enough to fill all the vast longings and unusual ideas that formulated inside his bright eyes. Had to take all those dreams and plans somewhere else to get them to fit, I guess,"
Realizing that he had said too much, John glanced quickly towards the kitchen to see if Martha had overheard him. I couldn't tell if the relief on John's face was because Martha hadn't heard or if he was glad to finally put into words the thing, he had hidden away deep inside his heart for so long.
As quickly as he had begun the subject of someone else at another time, John turned to me and said, "Well, I'm turning in. Long, hard, stinking day tomorrow. Martha will make us eat outside come noon," John said over his shoulder as he went through the living room to their bedroom.
I went into the kitchen and helped Martha put up the dishes. We didn't say much until I broke the silence with, "Have you ever seen a man around here who wears overalls, has black straggly hair, black bushy eyebrows and the most dangerous pair of dark eyes that seem to shout out hate everywhere?"
"Well, no Hans," Martha said with concern in her eyes. "Have you met anyone here like that?" Martha queried.
"No," I said hating to give Martha a half truth. "It was someone I saw a few miles back."
Since the kitchen was cleaned, they decided to go to bed. Martha insisted he take a couple more blankets and store them in the closet just in case.