Fall 2022 | Occasus | Issue 12

The Level Crossing

At the corner of a level crossing, Leon Kohl lit a smoke and watched the occasional buzzes that cut across his view. The railway crossed the gravel road, separating the town on one side, and their farm on the other.
 
He glanced back and forth from the town to the farm, and he checked his watch. He’d been there for almost an hour. Dried up fields lined the railroad, stretching far beyond the horizon. The weather had turned on them awhile back, and the relentless sun took all moisture the soil had once retained. Even now, any attempts to grow anything were futile. And as for trains, Leon had never seen one in his life.
 
A man walked towards him from the direction of the town. It was a short walk, but his pace was slow. Leon watched impatiently as Jonas Kleine’s frail appearance steadily came closer into sight.
 
“Behold the honourable Leon,” he said, addressing him with a bow.
 
It was a common greeting for families like the Kohl’s, who had a large store of grains in their silo. They, like other top-ranking families, had the most food to share. Other popular champions were the Braun’s, who provided baked goods made from leftover ingredients in their family-owned bakery; the Mullers, who, six months ago, nobody in the town thought twice of, were also new up and comers. They had an impressive stash of canned fruits and vegetables, rich in social currency. Among the average to lower ranks, families brought and shared whatever non-perishables they could find. The Kleines, unfortunately, never had anything to give. It was known that everything they had was spent on their ill daughter, Ameilia. As empty-handed as they came, the town always offered them extra.
 
Leon was still unused to the excessive admiration, but he responded to Jonas with a playful curtsy and a handsome smile.
 
“I was just coming by to see when that pig of yours is going to be ready.”
 
Three days prior, the town collected to discuss their diminishing food supplies. Families were each interrogated with questions about what could have been forgotten and the possibility of unexplored pantries and cabinets. When the Kohl’s, whose silo was a day from empty, were asked, Leon mentioned their pig. Helena jumped in, explaining to the community that they were waiting for the pig to grow to a sufficient size. At the end of the week they would harvest and split it amongst the town. In the three days following, nosy townspeople could always be spotted wandering near the Kohl’s farm.
 
“The pig is still growing,” Leon said, “but it will be Saturday as planned.”
 
After the big announcement, families swarmed Helena at the meeting, taking turns expressing their gratitude. Others took to their homes, grabbing the small bits of pig feed they could provide. Helena embraced her new charitable status. “We are nothing but happy to share.” she said. But it was quick to fade later that evening at home. Leon had been awaiting praise, but to his surprise, he had only earned himself a hard blow to the back of the head, for his “thoughtlessness.”
 
“That's very good to hear. Odd thing to find you way out here. Are those two brothers of yours finally starting to get to you?” Leon lifted his hand, displaying the half-used cigarette between his bony fingers.
 
“Aaah,” he said, chuckling. “You know I’m a grown man, but still I wouldn’t smoke in front of your mother either. Helena can be quite uncompromising, can’t she?” Leon nodded silently, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, you have no idea how grateful the community is to be able to count on your family. To be able to count on others is truly what makes this community prosper.”
 
Leon didn’t know Jonas Kleine well, but as a member in the club of salesmen, he assumed there was a sly quick-thinker before him. A man who, in an exchange, was not having just one conversation, but two. A man who was clearly pleased to have run into the family’s little pup, wandering all by himself, and not the wolves.
 
“Trust is the utmost important thing about a community, wouldn’t you agree?”
 
Leon thought carefully about his response. He felt his palms starting to sweat. “Yes, I do. I think trust is important.”
 
“It just makes me happy to know that we would all perish, before turning our backs on one another that is.”
 
Leon thought about their pig. A healthy pig was usually 250 pounds around six months, but living off of the dry grass and composted garbage laying in their backyard; their pig was less than half that size. If they slaughtered her, and distributed it evenly to the 500 individuals living in the town, it would equate to nothing more than a mere sliver of pork for each stomach.
 
“Small towns hold the worst grudges, you know, because everybody knows everybody.”
 
Leon, sadly, was not the first Kohl to think about it. After arriving home from the meeting, Helena had sat the boys down. “We are going to kill it silently.” Helena had said, “and split it amongst the four of us. That way, we can stretch rations for a couple months.” Leon had thought about how little each person would get, but he never considered not sharing. Some buried part of him knew she had her intentions laid out long before the town meeting, and long before he had offered that pig up on a silver platter.
 
“You know, I remember seeing a criminal hanged when I was a little boy. I pray for the poor bastards that would betray a community like this, not just for their deviance,” Jonas said, staring at Leon, contemplating his words, “but for the retribution as well. Sad thing is, if that man had just admitted his wrongdoings, he probably would have been pardoned.”
 
Leon knew he was right. If the town heard a gunshot from the Kohl residence, and saw them suddenly putting on weight in addition to the pig’s mysterious disappearance, they would know. But of course, Helena thought of it too. She told them as long as they killed it quietly, the town wouldn’t know. Drowning it, suffocating it, and slitting its neck were among her top options. To carry out the deed, she settled on electrocution.
 
As for the town, the Kohls would be heartbroken to deliver the news of the pig’s escape and the sacrifice of the town folk’s grain. And while the town shrank further into despair, the Kohls would be sharing small daily portions, trying not to gain too much weight. When Helena finished talking, Bruno and Gunther just accepted orders, like betas to an alpha. Leon felt sick, perhaps from the throbbing still at the back of his head.
 
“I want to be honest with you Leon, so I’ll tell you why I’m here. You know Ameilia is incredibly ill. As a father, I’ll do anything to help her. I thought it may be possible for me to get a little extra meat for her.”
 
Leon was an inch from confessing. Before the famine started, the only time he ever saw little Ameilia was when she sat in the park with her mother. And she was, indeed, extremely sick. Her regular visits to the doctor’s office and her failing health was always circling in the town gossip. Leon couldn’t imagine how she was surviving now. It seemed like impossibly long odds.
 
“I know there is not a lot of food that will come from this pig, so if you can’t provide anything extra, please be honest. I hate liars.”
 
“The thing is…that…,” and then he paused. Even with a healthy amount of food, her health was in decline. And Leon thought about how he hadn't actually seen Ameilia during the last couple of months.
 
Not even once.
 
“I hate liars too,” Leon said, staring into his eyes. “But it makes me feel at peace, to know that all liars eventually get caught.”
 
Helena explained the simplicity of the plan. The pig would be led into the barn. Once inside, Gunther and Bruno would close the doors and attach automotive clips onto the pig’s temples. That way, the electrical circuit from the bulb would be redirected, running right through the pig’s brain instead. Then, Helena would flip the switch to release the current. Dead.
 
It gave Leon confidence to see Jonas caught off guard and he continued to push. “How is Ameilia? I haven’t seen her in a while. You know what, I would be glad to give you a bigger portion…”
 
Leon’s role in the plan would be to stand at the level crossing, to ward off anyone from wandering too close to the house, a likely possibility. His talent at keeping conversations light made him the best person and his involvement in the community would make it less suspicious. He would wait there for one hour, and then come back when the deed had been carried out. Helena gave him her watch to track the time. Although a well-thought plan, having Leon as the front man was perhaps her most costly miscalculation.
 
Jonas let out a nervous laugh. “Great.”
 
“... as long as I can deliver it to her myself.”
 
And maybe for the first time in his life, Jonas had nothing to say.
 
If anyone else in the town had come up to him today, begging for food, Leon probably would have caved. But not for people like this. And as for that stupid pig, he’d be unable to live with himself as an accessory. He would rather waste away with the rest of the town while his family stuffed themselves.
 
“I think we agree on a lot Mr. Kleine. You see, I also think that trust is the most important thing to this community. If someone was caught for a serious crime, I would truly fear the extreme penalty they would face. I, for one, would be happy to see them pay a just price. Have a good day, sir.”
 
“Always a pleasure talking to you Leon,” he said.
 
Jonas gave a bow, more reluctant than the first, and left towards the town. When he was out of sight, Leon remained at the level crossing long past the hour, looking back at the end of the gravel road. Then, he too, started for town. 

Alexandra Mohl just completed her first year in Health Sciences at the University of Western Ontario. Although pursuing a science degree, she has a passion for writing creative fiction, often drawing her inspiration from true stories.