Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

Ruth calmed down and succumbed to the wise words of her husband. She wasn’t completely sure that he was right, but she trusted his judgement. After an afternoon of more relaxed conversation, with Enak all the time pretending to be asleep, Ruth entered the room with the evening meal – Nachtesse – a product of a busy day of cooking and baking. Before eating, the four Amish lowered their heads and closed their eyes, entering into silent prayer. Sitara took the opportunity to offer her own silent prayer to Allah, apologising in advance for straying from the Ramadan rituals, which she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to keep to. She would try to fit in a prayer when she woke up, but hoped that Allah would understand the unusual circumstances that she found herself in and would forgive her failings. Jason closed his eyes out of respect but, being an atheist, didn’t pray. Instead he used the time to think about the little group’s next move. Enak just looked around him, thinking how primitive it was to ask favours and offer gratitude to the Jah, who had obviously been negligent in the care of their charges.

The roar of the motorcycles cut through the silence of the night, heralding their arrival at the Amish farm like a fanfare for the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. Jacob leaped out of bed and grabbed his hunting shotgun, which was stashed away in the kitchen. Visitors were normally welcomed, but nobody who comes calling unannounced at two o’clock in the morning has good intentions. Not these days.

He opened the door to find four Harley Davidson motorcycles lined up facing the door of the house, their exhausts belching smoke like war-horses exhaling warm breath on a cold winter’s day. Astride the bikes, which had been stolen from a showroom in Indianapolis the previous day, sat four figures, all dressed black leather motorcycle gear. They looked fearsome, and the pump action shotguns they held increased that emotion. Jacob stood his ground.

“What do you gentlemen want at this time of the morning?”

The group’s leader answered.

“Amish ain’t ya? A man of religion?”

Jacob responded, not taking his eye off the man, his hunting rifle pointing at the motorcyclist’s chest.

“That I am, praise the Lord. What about it?”

“Well, me and my friends, we’re mighty pissed at your god. [25] just a thought: many southerners, especially rural ones, are Christian We wanna know why he saw fit to send this mighty plague to kill our families. You have a family, Mister Amish man? I had a family, I had a wife, Carol. I had a daughter, Lynette. I had my best friend, Nolan. Now I ain’t got nothing. ‘Cept my boy and my new friends here, ‘course.”

Triggs failed to mention that Nolan hadn’t died from the plague but that he himself had killed him. And Nolan would never have called Triggs his best friend – as far as he had been concerned, they were just two guys doing a shitty job that nobody else wanted to do. Jacob wasn’t interested in Triggs’s sob story.

“We’ve all lost families and friends, sir. And I’ll thank you kindly to get off my land and go back to whence you came.”

The biker mimicked the farmer.

“Go back to whence I came? Well ain’t you the fancy Dan, Mister Amish man.”

Jacob repeated his demand.

“Get off my land.”

“Or what old man?”

“Or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

The commotion outside had woken Jason, Enak and Sitara, who had been sleeping in the barn. They peeked through a gap in the wood cladding and saw Jacob facing off against four bikers. Jason whispered to Enak,

“Fetch the guns from the car. Old man Jacob’s got unwanted company.”

Enak took the shotgun and the semi-automatic rifle from the back seat of the vehicle and joined Jason.

Nobody noticed as one of the motorcyclists slipped around the back of the house and entered by the back door. All eyes were on the motorbike group’s leader and the Amish farmer. Triggs laughed.

“You’re a man of God, old man. You’re Amish. It’s against your religion to hurt another human being. Y’all ain’t gonna hurt me.”

The man was right. Jacob used his gun for hunting. He didn’t know if he could shoot another human being.

Suddenly the missing biker appeared behind Jacob, holding Ruth and Miriam tightly by their arms.

“Hey Triggs. Look at what I found. There was a young dude in there too. Took exception to me comin’ into the house, but he’s sleepin’ now.”

Triggs took a hard look at the two women and wolf-whistled.

“Say Mister Amish man. That’s a pair of mighty fine ladies you were hidin’ in your house. Mind if we play around a little with ’em? Naw, course you don’t. There’s only one of y’all and there’s four of us. Y’all can watch though. Share the experience.”

Jacob was doing his best not to stray from the Lord’s teachings, but he wasn’t about to let these men rape his wife and daughter either. He glanced up towards the heavens as his trigger finger started to squeeze the shotgun’s trigger, slowly, very slowly, as if to give him the chance to change his mind and avoid killing a fellow man.

A shot rang out.

The man-mountain that held Ruth and Miriam prisoner lost his grip on the two women and collapsed like a sack of potatoes, as a mix of flesh, bone, and brain matter gave the two women an unwelcome and nauseating shower.

Panic ensued. The women, covered in remnants of Pete’s head, stood gasping in shock as Jacob pushed them back inside the house, bolting the door shut. Ruth’s motherly instincts came to the fore, and she went to find Samuel and see if he was alright, ignoring the bloody mess that was splattered over her clothing. He was groggy, having been knocked clean unconscious with one punch [26] when/where did he get punched? to the head, but he wasn’t seriously hurt. Miriam locked and bolted the back door and returned to her father’s side.

Jason was pleased that his shot had turned the situation. He’d picked up a telescopic sight with the rifle when he had raided that sporting goods shop back in Bethesda, and the scope had ensured a clean shot.

Triggs and the two remaining bikers had quickly taken cover behind a large rain barrel beside the house. It didn’t afford much protection, and they were forced to huddle together, but it was better than nothing. Triggs called out.

“I don’t know who y’all are mister, but as far as I can see there’s still three of us and probably only two of y’all. There’s no need for none of us to get hurt. Me and my buddies will just get on our bikes and ride away into the sunset.”

Triggs had no intention of leaving quietly. The bikers still outgunned the Amish farmer and whoever was in the barn, even though they were a man down.

“Tell you what, Amish man in the barn…”

Jason called out from his hiding place.

“I’m no Amish man and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your head, just like I did your friend’s.”

Triggs whispered to his colleagues.

“One of you go ‘round the back of the house and outflank the dude in the barn. From his accent, I reckon he’s a Limey. Probably just a lucky shot that knocked down old Pete. They don’t usually have guns over there. Probably never shot a gun in his life before today.”

Shane, the youngest of the group, started to move. He was enjoying the adventure. School had closed indefinitely, and since he’d joined up with his father, the sixteen year old’s life had become much more exciting. He silently crept around the back of the building and approached the side of the barn. Suddenly he was looking down the business end of a double-barrelled shotgun, at the other end of which was a dark-skinned young woman. His hormones pointed out to him that she was a fine-looking woman, but his brain reminded him that he was in danger. He began to calculate the odds of success if he primed his own pump-action weapon, but was stopped in his tracks by a male voice behind him.