Liquefaction or Karma?

LIQUEFACTION OR KARMA?

Kiera ran from the house, clutching a wailing baby Jack to her chest. She didn’t shut the front door, she just ran. Barney followed silently, pacing her step-by-step. She flew across the front lawn to the car, throwing open the back door,

“Come on, come on, come on!” she said, struggling to buckle Jack into his car seat, while chancing looks over her shoulder. Barney jumped into the backseat, laying down beside the baby as if guarding him. Kierra ran around the car, jumped into the driver’s seat and jammed the key into the ignition. She cranked the key, and the car roared to life. She threw it into drive, and peeled out of the driveway, gravel spraying out behind her. As she sluiced sideways onto the unpaved road, she looked behind her.

”Oh, shit!”

*****

“Come on, baby, just eat a little bit,” I pleaded. But Jack was having none of it. He was fourteen months old, and just learning the power of “no.”

Breakfast was not going well. Jack was cranky and contrary. Nothing I gave him for breakfast made him happy. My baby-book said that he was probably teething—still teething—and he was not happy about it.

I gave him toast. He threw it over the side of the high chair, much to Barney’s delight. I tried the frozen bagels my mother had suggested to help soothe his inflamed gums. On the floor. I tried some yoghurt. He’d smacked the spoon out of my hand, covering me, the floor, and Barney with Greek yogurt. I tried bananas. On the floor. Barney wasn’t really a fan, but still ate them—floor food was still food.

I rubbed the yogurt off of my face, and looked at my son, defeated. He was doing that thing that babies do when they are inconsolable—throwing his head back, banging it on the headrest on his highchair, while tensing his body rigid and arching, thrashing his arms wildly. All this while screaming at the top of his lungs. Try to lift a child up while he’s doing that—it’s like holding a bag of angry wolverines. Virtually impossible.

I leaned in and Jack tried to push me away. I looked at him, tears making tracks through the yogurt on his face. Tears were also making tracks through the yogurt on my face. He was so upset, which in turn made me upset. The feeling of hopelessness was overwhelming. I’m his mother. I should be able to figure out what he needs. But not today. When I tried to soothe him, he cried even louder.

”For Christ’s sake, Kiera! Shut the kid up! I’m trying to sleep!”

Ah, Liam. My partner. Jack’s dad. But you wouldn’t know it by the way he treated us. We were millweights, sucking the life out of him. Which he reminded me every day. We were burdens. Parasites. He’d recently been laid off, and was at war with the world. And Jack and I were at the top of his enemies list. Not that he’d ever been much help with Jack or the house, but that was just the way it was, or so he informed me. When I asked him to watch Jack, he’d ignore me. Make a meal? Never. Change a diaper? He wasn’t touching baby shit. A real gem of a man. We were so lucky.

I wiped Jack’s face and hands, and tried lifting him out of the high chair. Easier said than done. As I tried to wrangle him he just cried louder.

”SHUT HIM UP! NOW! OR I’M GONNA MAKE HIM SHUTUP!!”

Enough. I yanked on my outdoor gear and attempted to put a squirming, distraught Jack into the baby backpack. He kicked, and thrashed, and screamed even louder, fought me all the way. But I finally managed to get him in the carrier and up on my back. I grabbed the rain cover and headed out, Barney at our heels.

Our home is rural. Very rural. Twenty-five minutes to the closest small, one-horse town; three hours to the city. But we had a lot of land. And, over the last three years, we’d widened a number of game trails, and now had an extensive network of trails for hiking, some wide enough for an ATV or snowmobile.

Today we were going to go up the hill at the back of the property, my favourite hike. Well, at least I hoped we’d be able to go up. It had been raining—really raining—for the last six or seven days, and I was worried that the trail would be too slippery. But I’d give it a try. Anything was better than being home when Liam dragged his sorry ass out of bed.

We set off. Then, as fast as it had started, Jack stopped crying. I sighed inwardly—finally. “Hey Jack!” I said, turning my head as far as I could so that he could see me smiling at him. He grabbed my ponytail and pulled. For a tiny man he was pretty strong. I gently pried his fingers open so that he would release my hair.

”Thanks for letting go, buddy. Mommy doesn’t like it when you pull her hair.”

”Mamanabo! Pluuuuttt.” Ahhh. Baby raspberries. Too cute!

The rain was still pretty heavy, and I silently thanked whomever had invented waterproof clothing—jacket, rain pants, hat, boots, gloves. The water was running off of me in rivulets, but I was nice and dry underneath. Jack was also decked out in toddler rain gear, as well as having the added bonus of his transparent backpack rain cover. The only one getting wet today was Barney, but he didn’t seem to mind—he just ran around sniffing and barking at anything that moved.

As we walked, I pointed out everything we saw to Jack—trees, birds, squirrels, chipmunks, the different plants that were still standing after last week’s early frost. We even saw a small deer sheltering under the heavy boughs of a pine tree near the bottom of the hill. Jack, for his part raspberried, laughed, slapped his hands on my head, and took my hat off.

Jack really liked these walks. No matter how miserable he was, once we started hiking, his mood improved exponentially. It didn’t matter the weather, he just loved being outdoors. But Jack wasn’t the only beneficiary of these hikes. They really helped me, as well.

I found the looming, brooding figure of Liam suffocating and, well, scary. Always yelling, threatening, putting me down, telling me I couldn’t do anything right, screaming at Jack for crying, trying to kick Barney when he was underfoot. It was oppressive and stressful. These hikes were my lifeline, my clarity, and the savers of my sanity.

I had found a sure-fire way to avoid Liam’s meanness—just leave and go for a walk. Grab Jack and Barney and hit the trails. According to my fitness tracker, Jack and I were walking thousands and thousands of steps everyday. Walking was not only good for my physical health, but good for my mental health as well. And Jack was happy. And, as an added benefit, Liam was usually gone by the time we got home, having gone to join his unemployed buddies drowning their sorrows at the one bar in town.

I shifted Jack’s carrier on my back, a bit out of breath, fantasizing about the day when he could walk these trails by himself, on his own little legs. He was only about twenty pounds, but by the end of our walk, he felt like he weighed double that.

It was tough going, but thankfully with only a bit of slipping and sliding we had made it to the top of the hill. There was an open shelter a little ways along the trail at the top of the ridge that looked out on one of the best views on the property. Jack and I usually stopped there to have a snack and a bit of a rest before finishing the loop to home.

I stopped when I saw the shelter.

“Damn!” I said.

The shelter was all warped and distorted. It looked as if a giant hand had grabbed the top and twisted it a quarter turn making it list and buckle. Even the little bench I had built was askew. I walked closer, noticing how soft the ground was. The mud grabbed at my boots, sucking at them. I looked around. A few of the trees were tilting at odd angles as well. I was sad. I loved that shelter. Liam and I had built it before Jack was born, and before Liam had turned into an asshole. The view was amazing, the quiet soothing. It was my oasis. I figured I’d have to wait until spring to fix the structure. The ground was way too wet right now.

“Well, Jack,” I said. “I guess we’re not going to stop here for a snack. Let’s go a little farther.”

”Snaaa!”

We walked until the ground was more solid. I found a bit of an overhang that provided some shelter . Our new snack spot, at least until next spring. I took off the backpack, stood Jack up in it, and retrieved snacks for all three of us—crustless peanut butter sandwich for Jack, protein bar for me, homemade dog biscuit for Barney, drinks for everyone.

Fifteen minutes later we were back on the trail. As we walked the trail I noticed that no one trying to pull off my hat, and the raspberries had stopped. I took out my phone, turned it to selfie mode, and held it up so that I could see behind me. Yup, my little man was fast asleep. I snapped a photo. Now if he could stay asleep …

As I walked, I noticed that it was unnaturally quiet in the forest this morning—no blue jays scolding us, no small animals scurrying in the underbrush, no squirrels chittering in the trees. Just a faint, low-pitched groaning sound. Weird.

Something had spooked all the animals. Which in turn spooked me. Even Barney seemed to be agitated, turning to watch me every couple of steps. Normally, he would bark his fool-head off if we came across any animals or birds. In fact, that was what had startled the deer at the beginning of the hike—his barking. But he wasn’t barking now. Instead, he was what … nervous? Do dogs get nervous? He was uneasy about something. And his unease was causing me unease. I shivered and quickened my pace along the trail.

Half an hour later we walked out of the forest, and headed towards the house. Once on the covered porch, I gently slid Jack off my back, placing him on the veranda, still in the backpack while I stripped off my outdoor gear. He was sleeping deeply—probably exhausted from his breakfast tantrum. I grabbed a towel and dried off Barney and cleaned his paws. He was, by far, the wettest of the three of us. I hung my clothes and the backpack cover on hooks to the left of the front door to drip dry, the water plinking onto the porch boards. The three of us entered the house, Barney running ahead, his nails clicking on the floor.

”Where the hell have you been?” Liam demanded.

Damn. He wasn’t at the bar. ”Shhh!” I said. “Jack’s sleeping.”

”I don’t give a shit,” he said. “You were gone for almost two hours. Where were you?”

I ignored him, and gently pulled Jack out of the backpack. He made little mewing sounds, smacked his lips a couple of times, and went back to sleep. I started walking towards Jack’s bedroom.

Liam stepped in front of me. “I’m talking to you.”

I looked up at him. He was a big man, well over six feet tall. But I didn’t cringe or step back. That was Liam’s M.O.—intimidate people by getting right up on their face. But not me. I never stepped back.

”And I’m putting our son to bed.” I sidestepped around him, walked into Jack’s bedroom, and gently put him in his crib, stripped off his rain gear, and covered him up with his blankie.

Liam was still standing where I’d left him. I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my arm. “I was talking to you.”

I looked at him. And smelled him. He’d been drinking. Again. At home. At ten o’clock in the morning. Fantastic (sarcasm intended). I pulled my arm out of his grip, turned, and walked towards the kitchen.

He came up behind me and grabbed my arm again, this time harder. Barney growled.

”Ow!” I said. “Get your hands off me! You’re hurting me!”

”I’ll do more than hurt you,” Liam sneered. “Tell me where you were!” He squeezed harder.

”Let go of me!” I said, gritting my teeth through the pain. I tried to yank my arm away from him. But he held on. His grip was like steel. I was definitely going to have some nice bruises. “Get off!” I hissed, trying to pull away.

Then he slapped me. Right across the face. It hurt like hell. Through watering eyes, I stared at him in disbelief. He’d never hit me before. Sure, he’d grabbed me, pushed me a couple of times, and I hated it, but he’d never slapped me.

“You tell me now, bitch, or I will beat you until you do!” he roared, shaking me by the arm.

Barney growled louder this time, running towards Liam. LIam swung his head at the sound of Barney’s nails on the floor. I yanked my arm free. Barney lunged, snarling, chomping down on Liam’s leg, jaws locked. Liam screamed, trying to dislodge Barney. Jack started screaming hysterically, jolted awake by the mayhem happening in the kitchen. I stood frozen.

“FUCKIN’ DOG!” said Liam, finally grabbing Barney by the scruff of his neck, flinging him across the room. Barney hit the wall, fell to the ground, still.

”Barney!” I yelled running towards him. Shakily, he rose to his feet, teeth bared, hackles raised, staring at his nemesis. Liam limped towards him, blood dripping from the bite on his leg. “I’M GOING TO KILL THAT MUTT!”

”Stop it right now!” I yelled, stepping in from of my dog, my protector.

Liam limped towards us, ”Then I’ll kill you both.” He picked up a knife from the kitchen counter, a lunatic grin plastered on his face as he slowly walked towards us. Barney and I circled away from him keeping the kitchen island between us. Jack wailed from his room. Liam grinned, evil intent radiating off of him.“Then when I’m finished here, I’ll kill the brat!” He looked towards Jack’s room.

That was it. No more. I grabbed the cast iron frying pan on the stove and swung it hard, hitting Liam across the face. He went down like the sack of shit he was.

I didn’t stop to check if he was still alive. I just kicked the knife away from his body and ran to the bedroom, Barney at my heels.

Jack was in tatters, tears streaming down his face, his disconsolate sobs echoing through the room. His fear mirrored my own. I grabbed him up, and ran out of the room, leaving everything behind. I snatched my car keys from the hook by the door, and bolted out of the house.

*****

”Oh shit!” I said, spying Liam staggering out of the front door, blood smeared across his face, covering the front of his shirt.

But that’s not what I was looking at. The entire hill behind the house was collapsing—a tsunami of mud, engulfing my home. And Liam.

I punched down on the accelerator and hoped to God that I was far enough away to not be caught in the landslide hurtling down towards the road.

*****

It was still raining. Someone had given me a coat that I wrapped around Jack, keeping him warm and dry.

Sheriff Sam Callaghan put his hand on my shoulder. ”I’m sorry, Kiera, Liam didn’t make it. We just recovered his body.”

I looked at the site where my house had once stood. Now it was nothing but an ocean of brown, sticky mud. Uprooted trees, rocks, and detritus from my house were stuck in the mud, ends poking out like an apocalyptic hellscape. I watched as four mud-covered first responders struggled to carry the litter with Liam’s dead body on it out of the mire.

”Liquefaction,” said Sam. “Too much water. The soil turns to liquid, like quicksand, causing the slide that destroyed your home. And killed Liam.”

I hugged Jack closer to my chest, still staring at the scene. I shivered, rainwater running down my back. ”At least we’re safe,” I said, bending over to scratch the top of Barney’s head.