by D C Little
Blake had slowly become used to the idea. He watched her like a hawk, but he didn’t cater to her or baby her. She needed to be strong in order to survive this. He knew it and she knew it. There would be none of the coddling that she had received when carrying Tucker. They couldn’t afford that.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, putting a hand on the baby as it kicked her stomach. Secretly she had been enjoying the little one’s movements rolling around inside of her. It had been one of the most amazing feelings while pregnant with Tucker. With this one, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope with every movement.
She would never be able to see the baby on an ultrasound or hear its heartbeat before it was born. How spoiled they had become as a society. Now she had to rely on the old ways to know if her baby fared well.
Kris organized everything they would take out with them, specifically clothes and linens that needed to be washed. She did the best she could with the provisions in the bunker, but they needed fresh air and a better scrub than her little hand held tub could accomplish.
Tucker practically bounced off the walls in excitement, and in truth Kris wanted to join him. She knew they still had to sleep in the bunker for now, but today marked the end of the mandatory hibernation.
“Mommy?” Tucker caught her attention, having stopped bouncing for the first time since they woke up and Blake announced for sure that this would be the day.
“Yes, Sweetie.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
“May I feel her?” Tucker reached out his small hand.
“Of course,” she said as she placed his hand over the last place the baby kicked, laying her palm over the top of his.
Tucker had been curious and observant with the pregnancy, asking questions and wanting to know everything about the process and what his sister looked like right then. Kris delighted in the conversations. Not only did she feel the bond with Tucker growing, but she felt the pull that he had toward his sister. He would be a wonderful big brother.
Blake’s secret knock sounded on the bunker door. He had been scouting the property to ensure it was safe for them to go above ground.
“I can’t wait!” Tucker jumped and clapped.
Kris opened the door, greeting her husband with a wide smile.
“Ready?” Blake asked, looking intimidating with guns and knives holstered all over.
Yet, her heart caught. That daunting man was her husband, the father of her child, no...children, and the love her life. He had saved them. As horrible as it had been to be stuck underground for five months, she knew it would have been worse for them above ground. Here they had everything they needed: warmth, food, water, security, and most of all each other.
Blake’s hand rested on the handle as if uncertainty warred within him. His eyes rested on hers, speaking more than words could convey. Then they shifted to their son’s. A brief flash of fear danced within his gaze and then vanished as he set his face in determination.
The massive door released in a sigh, a sigh months in coming.
Blake released a loud breath and heaved the door open, motioning them to stay still and silent.
Kris’s eyes closed as a gust of warm, fresh air blew across her face when he opened the hatch. Their silence was broken by the song of birds greeting the morning. A joyful tear silently rolled down her face.
“It’s still clear.” Blake’s deep voice set little Tucker free.
Her son ran across the green ground, bounded off rocks, and climbed up low-branched trees.
Kris soaked in the moment. The sun filtered through the green leaves. Pines and oaks rocked gently in the breeze.
Life was beginning anew this spring. The world as she knew it may have ended, but their new one proved to be just as full. She rested a hand on her growing belly—even fuller.
“This is the beginning of our new life,” she whispered.
Blake wrapped his arms around her. “Yes, and I will do my best to make it as fulfilling as possible.”
Kris snuggled into his warmth, moved his hands to feel the delightful activity of their child in her womb. She watched her son enjoy the freedom of nature, and thanked the powers that be for the mercy of allowing the world to still surround them.
*******
Thank you for reading the second installment of Grant Us Mercy. I hope you enjoyed the journey of Blake, Kris, and Tucker surviving in their bunker.
Stay tuned for Installment Three where the action picks back up and life hangs on the thread of hope...a hope for Mercy.
Want to read the first chapter of Installment Three now? Keep reading. A sneak peek is included!
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Remember Hannah’s dad, Arland? Blake imparted some of his knowledge with the meek scientist. In this exclusive story, find out what Arland does armed with that information. Can he protect Hannah and his community through the apocalypse?
Arland will return in Installment Three!
Grant Us Mercy:
Arland’s Transformation
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Next in Grant Us Mercy
Grant Us Mercy:
Installment THREE
In an apocalyptic world, do friends turn to foe?
Now free from entrapment in the bunker, the Chantry’s struggle to find balance in their new world.
When faced with a judgment call, Kris has to decide to follow the teaching of her husband or the tug of her heart. That decision creates a ripple effect that has the potential to save them or propel them to meet their end.
Join Blake and Kris on this action-packed third installment to the hair-raising journey in the post-apocalyptic serial novel, Grant Us Mercy. Every three weeks, the next installment will release and continue the survival adventures of the Chantrys.
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SNEAK PEEK!!!
Grant Us Mercy: Installment THREE
Not again.
Kris wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned onto the barrel that held the squash plant she worked on. The pain rippled through her stomach, tightening and clenching like a wide rubber band stretching across her. Her eyes squeezed shut as she blew her breath out. She had pushed too much...again.
Her son’s squeal of delight traveled to her from a hundred yards down the hill. The happy sound drew her back from the cramping. She was glad that Blake and Tucker couldn’t see her. The worry in their eyes made her heart ache.
Peeking through the bushy plant she saw Tucker skip to the target they had set up on the edge of the forest below their house. At times she could almost pretend it was an ordinary early summer day. She worked in her barrel garden and past the play structure, the boys practiced shooting their bows—for fun, not in preparation for a hunt, a hunt for meat necessary to live.
“Bullseye!” Tucker shouted. After pulling the arrow from the target, he held it up in victory. His eyes roamed up to where she was working on their garden barrels.
She stood then, letting him see her smiling down at him. With hands around her mouth, she yelled back, “Proud of you!”
He waved his hand before Blake walked up and patted him on the back. He leaned down to give him further instructions, and the boy’s eyes turned away from her once more. Though she was happy to see the pride Blake took in their son, there were moments she missed when it was just her and Tucker. These days she took a back seat in the relationship, especially since her condition kept her from the more rigorous activities.
Hands on her hips, she bent back, stretching her tight lower back. The Braxton Hicks s
pasms had become more frequent the last couple weeks. They increased to the point she couldn’t be sure if she lied to Blake when she told him they were nothing to worry about. It was too early to have early labor. She still had two months to go, and those two months were needed. She had a lot to accomplish to have enough food to last through another winter in the bunker.
Her chest tightened with the thought. She didn’t want to spend another winter in the bunker, especially not with an infant. She had two more months to convince Blake he didn’t either. Her husband’s sanity would not last being in such close proximity to a crying infant for so long, not to mention how in the world would she wash all the diapers?
Her mind spun with too much to think about and consider. If she allowed herself time to worry about everything, she would lose her grip on her own sanity. She had to be strong for her boys. Besides, Blake worried enough for all of them.
She focused on her task. They had twenty barrels, all full of vegetables. The self-watering system made this type of gardening so much easier. She moved on to a strawberry bed, happy to see a couple dozen red strawberries. Popping one into her mouth made her wish she could just eat them all right then.
She had found the video describing this system of gardening six, almost seven years ago, when she was pregnant with Tucker. Remembering the look of pride in Blake’s eyes when she asked if he could help her create this self-watering garden made her knees feel weak. If only he would look at her like that now.
Yet, every time she actually caught his gaze, the expression was far from pride. Fear and resentment filled them, leaving her wanting to cower and hide. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, feeling her baby wiggle under the pressure. She couldn’t change what happened, and she wouldn’t want to. This baby was a part of her now, whether Blake could wrap his mind around it or not.
The baby was due in the midst of harvesting time, so she had to train Tucker on how to care for the plants, harvest them, and store them. Not that she would be able to be down for long. She prayed for an easy delivery, one that she could bounce back from quickly.
Her baby wiggled and kicked against her, causing a smile to erupt. Every time she felt the baby move, she couldn’t help but feel that everything was going to be okay. She took a hesitant glance toward her husband showing Tucker how to pull the bow farther back. Would Blake change his mind about the child after it was born?
~*~
Blake glanced up at his wife as she leaned against one of the barrels. He knew her spasms came more frequently and fear shot up his spine with every one. He gritted his teeth to keep the harshness out of his voice while coaching his son. The boy was sensitive. Blake struggled with wanting to harden him up. Life would only get more difficult and harsh, and Tucker needed to be tough. Yet, he loved the innocence in his son’s eyes as he stared up at him with adoration. Blake hoped his weakness for the boy wouldn’t put him in danger later on in life.
“Tilt your elbow more. Pull back all the way until your thumb can hook on your jaw. There. Now shoot.”
Tucker released the arrow and not only did it pierce the bullseye again, but it buried itself to the shaft. The boy had talent, but could he hit a moving target? Could he kill? It took more grit than most realized to kill. It took a hardened heart and each life, animal or human, cost a piece of you.
Even with the pressure of their survival on his shoulders, Blake could not stop the smile when his boy squealed his triumph. He should quiet him in fear of others hearing, but he just couldn’t crush the joy in his son’s eyes. Not yet. Let him enjoy his childhood a little longer. Hopefully there would be time before he saw that zest for life destroyed.
While Tucker reenacted his triumph over and over, Blake struggled over their position. For now, they seemed safe enough. Marauders hadn’t bothered them since they left the bunker, in fact, the world seemed void of other human life. He knew that wasn’t the case. There would be other survivors, and grizzly ones at that, but for now, they had sanctuary and he would use it to his advantage.
The issue at hand was food. Their well still worked. The solar panels still supplied the energy needed for the pump. He knew one day that would fail and more than likely he would not have the correct part to fix it. That was a problem for another day, though. Right now, he needed to hunt, and he needed to test his son’s readiness.
He hated to leave Kris for too long. The way she acted, the baby could come at any time. If he left her then, what would happen? She couldn’t birth the baby alone, could she?
As soon as Blake sanctioned a trip to the house, Kris had found the old, tattered birthing book she had dissected while pregnant with Tucker. Every night after Tucker had fallen asleep, he would ask her to tell him a bit more about it. He needed to know what to do. Fear propelled him forward.
“That’s enough practice for today, Champ. You’re a great shot on the target. Ready to see what you can do for real?”
Tucker visibly swallowed, but he pushed a smile to his lips. “I can’t wait!”
Blake pushed back all the other fears and knelt on a knee in front of his son. “Killing isn’t easy, Tuck. This is for our survival. Without meat, we can’t live. We’re doing this for your mom and for us.”
“And for my baby sister.”
Blake nodded. He had no doubt now that his son could see certain parts of the future. Part of him quelled the innate desire to ask him what to expect so he could prepare, and the other part wanted to dismiss the whole idea and pretend the gift didn’t exist. At least here, alone, he could protect him.
As always, he scanned the area. He was acutely aware at all times of any movement whether it be the wind, a squirrel, a bird, or whatever. Watching his son skip up the hill to his mom, he realized he needed to instill that capability in Tucker as well. Blake needed to teach him to keep constant vigilance of his surroundings, never turn his back to another, and always be ready for an attack...from anyone.
How did you teach a child to be wary of everyone, even friends?
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DC Little writes what she loves, incorporating survival techniques within action-packed natural disaster stories. The Sierra Nevada Mountains are her playground, both for adventure and scheming up new plots.
If DC is not attached to her computer typing out her latest novel, then you will probably find her on some sort of adventure with her husband and son. Whether white-water kayaking, backcountry skiing, dirt bike riding, or finding the next bug-out hidden oasis, she feels most at home in the trees and granite wonderlands of her home county.
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