Cast One Shadow

By E. Allen Schneider

Cast One Shadow is the story of a middle class family who has to contend with financial adversity, the ravages of war and man's inhumane actions to one another.This is an intimate engaging account of Jake, a seventeen year old boy, his parents
and his canine companion. The riveting flow of each chapter depicts the dramatic impact of a family's crucial decision.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465353399

E. Allen Schneider

The author, who is now a member of the Writers Network of South Florida, began his career as a local reporter for the N.J. Bergen Evening Record. He continued on as a copy and speech writer in the PR/Advertising field and wrote/produced promotional films and commercials for Cannon Camera, Hoffman LaRoche, etc.. He also contributed to Mike Wallace’s Night Beat program and conceived and wrote the pilot script, Mr. Citizen, the Harry S. Truman TV documentary, produced by David Susskind.

Book preview

ONE

Jake stopped for a moment. He thought he heard something, a faint wailing. It had been a cool sunny day, but too cold for just a sweater. The wind was stripping the gold, red and rust colored leaves from the oak and maple trees. It was a great day for walking or climbing. Jake often hiked in the forest which covered the hills and ravines. Living near the Delaware River in New Jersey, he thought how lucky he was to grow up at the edge of his own mountain hideaway. This was his Matterhorn. Being agile and adventurous, with a wiry, taught build, he liked to test his physical capabilities against the rocky ledges and hike the winding, rough terrain paths.

At sixteen, Jake was an inquisitive and handsome young man who was responsible when the situation required. A good student who was expected to be off to college within a year, was now enjoying his surroundings.

It was difficult to tell what the sound was with the wind picking up and whistling its chilly tune, accompanied by the forest’s rustling leaves and branches. It was dusk and long streams of sunlight, contrasted by slinky black shadows, began to fade away. He could feel the cold air stinging the tips of his ears and nose. Wearing a leather jacket and gloves helped fight the wind but it was time for him to return home.

He thought he heard that faint sound again. It couldn’t be the wind. It seemed to come from an outcropping of rocks, a little ways up the path. Jake was curious and for a moment he hesitated. He was tempted to go up there but then decided to get home. At night, with the temperature dropping, the forest is not the place to be without proper camping equipment. As he continued down the path towards home, he couldn’t dismiss the thought of that wailing sound.

Jake abruptly tried to stop his decent down the steep path and slid on pebbles, leaves and rocks, landing him on his butt. Curiosity overcame common sense. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t forget the noises from the top of the stony ridge.

He carefully backtracked up the path and reached a rocky crag. The sounds were coming from a breach in the ledge. It sounded like a young animal. At that moment a small muzzle appeared and then quickly withdrew. The opening was too small to enter and too dark to see into. Come on boy, come ’eer, I won’t hurt you. Jake tried to coax the animal to reappear. He poked the entrance with a broken thick limb that he had found. It brought no aggressive response but a continuation of the crying sounds. He pressed the side of his head and shoulder against the rocks and very cautiously reached in.

Jake let out a scream, followed by oh help, oooh! His yell could be heard half way down the mountain. He couldn’t withdraw his hand. He heard a deep, snarling sound. Whatever it was, it had a vice like grip. It whipped, tugged and pulled, viciously attempting to tear Jake’s flesh.

Pain rushed up his arm. It felt like his pulsating hand had been slammed in a car door with spikes. Even though he was almost overcome by fear and pain, he braced himself against the rock wall and with all his strength, pushed off with his knees, pulling his arm out of the fissure. Jake was free of the crevice, but not from the fangs that clamped tightly to his gloved hand. The sun was down, but he could still see and certainly feel the white teeth trying to adjust it’s grip on his hand. Jake continued to struggle to get free, without success. He reached and grabbed the limb and with all his might he came down with a crushing blow to the animal’s skull. The creature fell limp. What was this?

The forest canopy partially blocked the only reflected light from the moon. It was either a wolf or a large dog. The animal’s head had two gashes one of which he caused. Flesh had been torn from it’s rib cage. Laying motionless on the ground, it still maintained a tight grasp on Jake’s gloved hand. With a stick, he was finally able to pry open the fangs.

Tears welled up in his eyes from both the pain and the emotion of having killed an animal. Rats that tried to gnaw into the corn feed bin were the only other animal he killed.

As Jake started to regain some mobility in his hand, the pain became more acute and he felt moisture in the glove. He was bleeding severely. Knowing he had to stop the blood flow, he opened his jacket and with his shirttail in one hand, used his teeth to tear off a strip of fabric. As he wrapped his hand, he heard a whimpering sound from the same opening in the rocks. Apparently his attacker was not the source of the previous noises. Another animal’s head appeared out of the small cave. It was a pup. As he reached for it, it let out a high pitched bark and withdrew. One thing was for sure, he would not stick his hand back into those rocks again.

Jake decided to tie his other glove to the end of the stick. Probing the cave with the baited stick, he slowly withdrew the glove and the pup followed. With his other hand, he quickly snatched up the animal.

His hand was throbbing with pain as he held the large pup under his arm and headed home. On his way down the mountain, he started to think about what his parents’ reaction would be and what they might say.

TWO

As she peered at the kitchen clock, Betty Weaver became more concerned. Betty, Jake’s mom, was an attractive woman, taller than average. In high school, she was a cheer leader and involved in athletics, which helped develop her good figure. On the weekends, living on a farm kept her physically active. She wore her brown shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail when at work. At home, Betty allowed her hair to flow freely and curve over one eye. Her outdoor tan skin highlighted striking facial features, in particular, her big blue eyes. Those eyes readily disclosed her pleasure and displeasure. Everything had to be organized and in it’s place. She did not take well to surprises or major changes, which might disrupt the daily routine.

The kitchen’s Swiss wall clock chimed on the hour. Jake was usually on time or just a few minutes late, but now it was seven o’clock and way past dinner time. Harry Weaver, Jake’s father, was also concerned. He tried not to show it by offering words of encouragement. Jake will be home shortly and he probably doesn’t realize the lateness of the hour.

Harry was a slender, muscular man, with a nose that appeared to have been broken several times. He still maintained the crew cut style he had when he was a Marine and his square jaw gave him the appearance of an action figure. He was not generally talkative and was even tempered and patient. Harry had served during the Vietnam war and had received a Purple Heart. His attitude towards life and his job was that people must fulfill their responsibilities. His word was his bond. His family was his life and he would protect them until his last breath.

Married for twenty one years, Harry and Betty Weaver had bought their sixty acre farm from Harry’s Dad. His father, who recently passed away, agreed to sell the house and land to them at a low price. The sale was based on a promise that they would never sell it and would pass it on to their children. They purchased it a year after they were married, or as Harry refers to it, when they got hitched. Four years later, their only child, Jake was born. For a while things went well. Then market prices of vegetables, in particular corn, dropped and the cost of seed, fuel, insurance and equipment increased, to a point where they could no longer afford to remain full time farmers. In addition, that year, they were subjected to bad weather conditions. Sometimes there was too much rain and other times not enough rain. It was either too cold, an early frost, or it was too hot.

Tight for money, Harry was fortunate to find a job in the Ford factory and Betty maintained her position with a local insurance firm. The Weavers became weekend farmers, with some livestock. They had four Sussex cows, and a few Rhode Island chickens. It was Jake’s responsibility, in the morning, to feed the animals, milk the cows and herd them into pasture. After school, he had to clean the barn and at dusk, he would herd the animals back into the barn for shelter. In season, the Weavers would all plant and harvest the crops on the weekends.

Whatever they earned from farming, helped to pay the mortgage and yearly taxes. At the end of each week, Harry would hand Betty his paycheck. She kept the records of their weekly and monthly incomes and expenditures on An 81/2 by 11" note pad. Her columns and postings were neat. She did not total the amounts until the end of the month. The Weavers had a little contest between them. At the end of each month, Harry would run his finger down each column and within seconds he’d call out a total. Betty would use a calculator and find out that his figure was almost always within a dollar or two of the actual sum. Harry wouldn’t say anything, but with a gleam in his eye, he would just walk away.

Did he go hiking in the woods? Harry asked. I’m not sure, Betty replied. He headed out as soon as his chores were done. As Harry went to the closet to get his coat, the kitchen door opened.

"Your hand is wrapped and bloody! Where did you

get that animal? Where have you been?" Betty asked.

Are you all-right? Betty peppered Jake with questions.

Give the boy a chance to answer, Harry said, as he took the pup. Betty removed the soiled bandage and looked at Jake’s deep wounds. Though in severe pain, he told them what happened.

Harry realized the seriousness of the bite and immediately called Dr. Marc Stern, who had been the family physician for twenty years. He described Jake’s wounds and what had occurred.

The family had a warm relationship with Doc Stern. He was always attentive and caring. It was rare to be able to call your doctor at this time of night and have him answer the phone. Usually, you would get an answering machine with a set of robotic instructions that would tell you to go to the emergency room. Stern directed Harry to cleanse the wound with soap and water, which Betty had already done. He told Harry to try to retrieve the animal that bit Jake and bring it to the hospital. This would enable them to prep and test the animal for rabies. If and when it was found, he instructed Harry to call him so they could meet at the hospital emergency room. Doc Stern emphasized that it was urgent that they get to the hospital that evening.

The only hospital in the immediate vicinity did not have a medical examiner on staff. Therefore, Dr Stern, after he hung up from the Weavers, called Dr. Bob Howard’s residence. Bob was the local veterinarian in the Tillingsburg area. A stocky, jovial man, his appearance resembled Elton John, the singer / song writer.

Doc Howard was born in Easton, Pennsylvania, which is just across the Delaware River from Tillingsburg. He had lived in that area all of his life. Every local farmer and those in surrounding towns had the greatest confidence in Doc Howard and swore by whatever he said. When they needed his help, he was there. He saved Peter Shay’s colt during birth, when the umbilical cord got entangled around it’s head. When they couldn’t afford his fee, he’d just told them to pay him when they could.

When Doc Howard answered the phone, Stern related the story and asked if he would meet them at the hospital to prepare the carcass for rabies testing. I’ll call you as soon as the animal has been located

Jake took the big flashlight while his father retrieved the Winchester rifle from a locked cabinet. Based on the description his son gave of the animal that attacked him, Harry got the wheelbarrow from the barn to cart the carcass. He took the rifle for protection. There had been a small black bear sighted in the area.

Jake and his father quickly proceeded up the mountain. Time was of the essence for if the animal had rabies, which Doc Stern mentioned was a virus, it was important to get treatment quickly.

Harry was not familiar with the path they took. It was a dark night. Clouds blocked out the moon’s reflection. Jake led the way with the flashlight in one hand and the other bandaged and throbbing. His father, with the wheelbarrow, followed close behind. Carefully they walked up the ridge path. The higher they climbed, the more cautious they became, for it was a narrow path with loose rocks, low hanging branches and it meandered near the edge of the cliff. Time became magnified. The more they rushed the longer it seemed to take to get to their destination.

It was a little more than half an hour from the time they left the house until Jake recognized the rock formation where the small cave was located. After pushing the wheelbarrow up the incline, Harry was a bit winded. He was also anxious and asked Jake how much further they had to go. It’s just around the bend Jake replied. After a few minutes, they were there and the crevice was in sight. When Jake looked at the spot where he thought the animal had fallen to the ground, it was not there. Jake shined the flash light towards the small cave and saw glaring eyes and teeth. Startled, he jumped back, stumbling over the wheelbarrow. He tried to maintain his balance and dropped the flashlight. The light went out as it hit the ground.

Harry, with a whispering shout, asked Jake what scared you. Where’s the flashlight?"

Not answering, Jake fumbled on the ground until he found the flashlight. Fortunately, it still worked. Finally, focusing the light beam towards the crevice, he saw glittering black eyes, a long gray black muzzle with snarled black leather lips and large white fangs. The ears were pitched forward, as it crouched in a corner protecting it’s rear flank. Without hesitation, the animal leaped forward and in one fluid motion, Harry raised his rifle and fired. There was no time to make judgments as to what this animal would do.

I thought it was dead, yelled Jake.

It might have been unconscious his father replied.

With the light directed at the fallen animal, Harry carefully stepped forward to check and confirm that it was dead. He poked it with the barrel of his gun. There was no response. After hesitating for a minute, he knelt down and felt it’s chest. There was no indication of life.

What is it? asked Jake. Is it dead?

It’s either a wolf or a large German Shepherd. Let’s not waste time staring. Grab the legs, said Harry.

They raised the animal and loaded it into the wheelbarrow. With Jake as guide, they descended the mountain.

Betty, who was left to care for the large pup, proceeded to create a barrier in the corner of the kitchen. She placed two captain’s chairs on their sides. Newspapers were laid out to cover the floor. She was always proud that her house was spotless and that the oak floors, which her husband took great pains to sand, stain and lacquer, were maintained. As was her nature, she wasn’t going to let this pup dirty her house.

After putting away the left over supper, she poured some milk into a bowl. She turned to place the bowl inside the barrier and the pup was gone. It was not in the kitchen or the adjacent family room. She finally found him after scouring the whole first floor, which included the dining room, front hall, bathroom and the den which sometimes was used as an office. He was under the seven foot long, green velvet sofa in the living room. How he got under the furniture, amazed her. The sofa stood only six inches off the floor and she guesstimated that the animal weighed twenty pounds and was at least fourteen inches high at his shoulders. He had a big head for his size. He also had a long tail, long black muzzle, pointy ears and black eyes.

Those eyes were fixed with a look of fear as though asking what’s going on. No matter how she tried, she could not reach him. With great care not to scratch the wood floor, she attempted to move the sofa, but the animal crawled with the movement. Betty tried to lure the pup out with the bowl of milk. She placed it five feet from the sofa and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes passed and she peeked into the living room. There was the pup lapping up the milk and dribbling all over her beautiful floor. Betty slowly approached the pup but it dashed under the sofa again, only to peer out to watch Betty clean the floor. She left the room with the almost