Morning dawned unseasonably warm. Then a front blew through from the north and temperatures dropped. The sleepy little town remained relatively unaffected. The townspeople bundled up and stoked their fires. Little could disrupt the calm of the hardworking people of Lighthouse, Maine.
As night fell, however, the calm air began to stir. The decades old edifice that had blessed the town with its name remained dark. Though none of the town’s residents made their life on the sea in this modern age, they still basked in the comforting glow that brought sailors home safe. Lured by a darkness unknown for over a century, the townspeople grabbed flashlights and lanterns and fearfully gathered at the base of the darkened beacon of light.
“Help me,” a feeble voice called out from inside the unlit building.
As others glanced anxiously to those around them, young Officer Jace Stone stepped toward a narrow door. It gave admittance to the narrow winding stairs leading upward toward the light—a shining salvation of ships that no longer glowed. As he pulled the door open, a familiar figure tumbled out at Jace’s feet. The younger man fell to his knees, fueled by his training, he began assessing the old man as he called out with authority beyond his years.
“Call an ambulance.” Then he lowered his voice to talk to the older man, “Mr. Clemons, what happened?”
“I’ve never missed a step in my life, son. It felt like something pushed my foot off its safe foothold,” his pale eyes watered as a rasping cough overtook his words.
“Shh. Don’t try to talk,” the officer gently took his hand and held it, holding the old man’s gaze until the ambulance arrived.
The medics rushed forward, waving the gathered throng back as darkness fell deeper around them. As they attended to Mr. Clemons, the crowd broke off into little groups to murmur worriedly. One of the groups featured gnarled old veterans. Each proudly wore a faded ball cap with his branch of service emblazoned across frayed fabric. A few still possessed enough hair for a few grey tendrils to wave from beneath the band. As they yelled loudly in the direction of ears that didn’t all sport a hearing aid though they all should, the rest of the crowd quieted to listen to the wisdom of experience.
“The only man in town who can mount those stairs safely at night is James Clemons.”
The aged eyes of our would be heroes turned toward the prone figure being gently lifted into the ambulance. Concern flickered across each grizzled face. Most looked down at their feet afterward, unwilling to meet the eyes of their fellow men at arms.
“I know how to use a flashlight. I’ll go,” John Cabe straightened his stooped shoulders and reached for the keys that Officer Stone held in his hand.
A few voices rose in protest but he cut them short with one intense look from his haunted grey eyes, “I survived Hanoi. I will survive steep stairs and tricky doors.”
He still hesitated as he turned toward the door. His shoulders visibly straightened as he took another bracing breath and stepped forward. His withered body blocked the rest of the townspeople from seeing how his hand shook as he reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open, but the wavering light from the flashlight in his hand betrayed him as it bounced around the coarse walls and shallow steps worn by years of light keepers tending to the flames. The thought of those flames spurred him on and he took his first shaky steps into the enclosed staircase. He allowed the door to slam closed behind him before taking another deep breath.
“Come on, John. There’s nothing waiting for you but a light that needs serviced,” he whispered to himself as he continued to slowly mount the stairs.
Outside, the town waited. All eyes looked up toward the now defunct light, waiting for it to beam out its comfort and protection once more. As time stretched on, they huddled closer together. The smaller groups that had broken off were drawn back into the whole as they waited anxiously. The occasional whisper of concern or question quickly faded under soft shushing.
The silence without seeped into the walls of the lighthouse and made the stony silence deeper. John’s heart hammered in his chest and echoed in his ears, but he soldiered on, mounting each step slowly and deliberately. He shone the flashlight into every shadow before moving forward. As he neared the last turn, light reflected back from one beady black eye. The body of a tiny wren lay mangled on the step, right where John and presumable old man Clemons would place their foot to mount to the light.
John cursed softly and reached into his pocket, “Good thing I have to walk Millie’s dog later,” he muttered to himself as he extracted a plastic bag and scooped the tiny corpse into it with practiced ease.
Then he stood tall and made his way into the room below that which housed the light. Here the original lighthouse keeper would have went through a series of complicated preparations and steps to get the light going again. Luckily, James Clemons had accepted the moving of time and technology. A large blue button invited John to push it as soon as he stepped out onto the landing of the watch room. He obligingly did.
Light poured out from the lantern room above, cutting through the darkness and the tension. Applause erupted from below. The old man shook his head as a satisfied smile crossed his thin lips. Then he turned back toward the stairs with his light and the culprit behind the evening’s discomfort in one hand, so he could keep the other firmly on the handrail for his return journey.
When he finally exited the narrow door, only a handful of people remained to congratulate him and pat him on the back. He noticed those who stood watch to give gratitude had all served in one of the recent wars and appreciated the sacrifice that went into such service. No matter how long it has been since their war ended, veterans always volunteer to be the first into the fray and remain to proudly welcome their brothers and sisters home.
~~~
Sometimes, my posts get forgotten in the joy of trying to get my word count up for National Novel Writing Month. Luckily, I managed to remember to post this one. Yay for us!
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