He’d taken Rebecca out on the lake once in a borrowed boat. They had put in at a Georgia Power boat ramp on the north side of the lake where public use was allowed. Brent kept the boat slow as they floated along the edge of the lake looking at homes. Some of them were simply breathtaking. Others, they’d joked, were prime examples of ‘more money than taste.’
Those homes were all well out of their reach financially. It would take a winning lottery ticket for them to ever be able to afford one, but they enjoyed the day laughing and dreaming about which one they would want for themselves someday. The boathouses alone were probably worth more than their simple house.
It had taken them all day to get around the lake, including a picnic on Billy Goat Island near the south end of the lake. The island had a small clearing on the southeast side. It was there she had told him she was pregnant with Jack. He was overjoyed and terrified at the same time. How were they going to be able to afford a child? But they had, and they had taken the best care of him they could.
He had lost Rebecca to the virus last winter and Jack to marauders earlier this year. Why he’d kept on going then, he wasn’t sure. The idea to die had really only taken root after Aaron had crawled into bed with Sasha and ended his own life. Brent didn’t see the action as cowardice, but love. He’d gone with Sasha into the next world.
The idea had grown in his own mind, until it became the most important thing to him. He would go home and be with Rebecca. If he’d been able, he would have brought Jack with him, but Jack was on the mountain when the bomb fell. There would be no recovering his body.
Brent caught a glimpse of Billy Goat Island through the trees and smiled. He had started shaking when Rebecca told him. He dropped his sandwich into the dirt and knocked over his bottle of water. He was going to be a father. Brent was still a father, though his son had been taken from him. For now. Once he becomes a father, a man was always a father.
Today his thoughts were of Rebecca, Jack, and God. Instead of looking at the millionaire homes on the lake, he focused on the natural beauty. God had made the mountains and the river, the trees and the sky. All man had done was dam up the water to make a lake and throw some sticks together on the bank to live in. The true majesty was already there.
It truly was beautiful. This was only a tiny speck in the universe, a universe filled with wonder. He squished down the road under the rain and pulled his pants up again. He’d lost a lot of weight. The gun in his pocket kept pulling them down, and the weight of the water in the fabric did as well. Brent considered stopping to put a new hole in his belt but realized he would have to find a tool to do that.
It could wait. Brent stuck his tongue out and caught some of the raindrops. The water was pure, God’s distillation system. The water evaporated into the sky and came down to nourish the people and the land. To wash them clean. He felt like he was being baptized again as he walked through the rain, washed of sin in the beauty of the world.
He wouldn’t take his own life as Aaron had. Brent didn’t want to take the chance. He didn’t believe suicide was the unpardonable sin, but he didn’t want to be wrong either. Instead, he was going to let his body die. It takes constant work to continue living: food, water, sleep, shelter. He would simply stop drinking water. The only uncertainty now was how long?
Some people said a person can die in as little as three days with no water but take over a month to die of starvation. He still had at least two days of walking ahead of him and he wanted to make it home. Home to Rebecca. He wanted to be with her when he died, so he didn’t want to stop drinking fluids too early. It was better to start too late than too early. He had time.
Just to be safe, he wouldn’t stop drinking all fluids until he got to Yonah Mountain. That would be his signal to start preparing himself. It was a very recognizable mountain away from the other foothills. It was said to resemble a bear, though he never saw it. People probably said that because they had learned Yonah meant bear, not the other way around.
As he walked under the storming skies, he spoke to God. “Lord, please hear me. I’m a sinner in need of salvation. I submit to your will. If I am coming to you too early, it is within your power to change it. You are all powerful. I am only a man. I don’t think what I’m doing is suicide, but I apologize if this is not your plan. My spirit is weary and I long to be reunited with my family.
“I pray for your guidance in my hour of need. You can see what’s in my heart, and it’s not evil. I want to let my body fail. You made us to need constant attention to our physical being. I no longer want to inhabit this body. I want to be released.”
He walked down Burton Dam Road to the west and turned south on route 197. “I have killed men, but it was not out of malice nor evil. They were trying to kill us. I was trying to protect my friends. I don’t know how that goes into the ledger, but it was self-defense. No, not self-defense, defense of my friends.” He walked down the road between mountains and spoke to God, as a friend, as a follower.
He didn’t walk quickly. He felt every step as he took it, every raindrop as it splashed on his head and his shoulders. He felt the air between the rain drops. Brent experienced life as he’d never known it. He experienced life, and his body, as though it were going to end. It was somehow enlightening. He could almost taste the air.
The smell of water hitting the asphalt and the plants smelled like ozone and corn silk. He could see remarkable variations in the green of the trees, some dark, some light, all beautiful. Brent felt like he could hear every rustle of a leaf, every drop hit the ground. Now and then, he reached down to pull up his pants again. And he walked.
Brent walked down 197 to the Batesville General Store and kept walking down highway 255. He walked to highway 17 and turned right again. He reached a T intersection, and turned away from Helen, toward Cleveland. He could see Yonah.
He hadn’t had anything to drink since the rain touched his tongue near Lake Burton. That was good. He was confident he could make it to Dahlonega. He knew exactly where he was. It was still a long walk, but he was almost home. This trip took him thirty minutes in his truck. It would take him most of another day walking.
The sun was low in the west when he stopped at St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Church north of Cleveland. It was familiar. Brent normally attended St. Luke’s in Dahlonega, but he’d been to this church before. It felt comforting. The doors to this church were still unbroken, so he settled in against the outside wall, mostly protected from the rain. And slept. He had time.
Chapter 29
Up in the mountains Jensen awakened with a start. He’d heard a noise. Next to him Jessica slept peacefully. In the night, she’d kicked off the sheet from the bed. He admired her form as he picked the sheet up and doubled it over to wrap around his waist. He picked up his Ruger and carefully opened the door.
Nobody was in the chair at the window. That was a bad sign. He carefully walked through the early morning daylight, his Ruger in his right hand, his left holding the bedsheet around his body. Nobody was in the living room. Nobody was in the kitchen. He moved toward the back door, which was open, and put his finger on the trigger of the handgun.
He almost fired when a large form filled the doorway. It was Daniel.
“Holy shit, man! Were you going to shoot me?! Just because a big black man comes through a broken doorway doesn’t mean you get to pull a gun on him!” He looked carefully at Jensen, who had lowered his pistol. “Where are your clothes?”
Jensen just looked at him. “What were you doing? You’re on watch.”
At this, Daniel looked a little bit guilty. “I was taking a piss. I figured a minute or two wouldn’t hurt anything. What are you doing up anyway?”
The sleep in Jensen’s brain had been cleared by the empty house and readiness to engage. “I think I heard you move the chair when you went out.”
“Really? You heard that? I barely heard it, and I was right on top of it.”
Jensen waved the hand holding the pistol up and down, n
ot trusting the sheet to hold itself up. “Shhh, Jess is still sleeping.”
Daniel backed partway out of the door and said in a quieter voice, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing dude!”
“My finger isn’t even on the trigger. It’s not going to go off.”
Daniel smiled. “That’s not what I was talking about.” He looked down at Jensen’s sheet. “Just happy to see me?” It seemed a common issue of men in the morning, combined with the vision of Jessica’s curves under the blanket, had caused Jensen to point a second gun in Daniel’s direction.
He looked down and spun quickly. “We never speak of this again.”
From behind him, he heard Daniel’s mocking voice, “What caliber is that anyway? .22? I guess what they say about white guys is true.”
Jensen resisted the urge to shoot him on the spot, but heard Marcy say from the now open doorway of the master bedroom, “You’re half white, jackass. I’d say you’re about comparable. Now stop making so much fucking noise and let me sleep.”
Daniel frowned. “That’s hurtful. Did you even look or were you just being mean?” He looked at Jensen. “Did you hear that? Hurtful.” As Jensen returned to his room, Daniel whispered really loudly, “Hey, I’ve got the Wi-Fi password in case you need to release a little tension. It’s over there on the counter.”
Jensen used his left hand to flip Daniel off, letting the sheet drop in the process. It served him right; he’d have the image of Jensen’s naked ass in his head forever.
“That’s cold. Ice cold. You know I can’t un-see that, right?”
Jensen closed the door and went back to the bed to try to sleep. Now that he was awake, the nearness of Jessica lying under the blanket was almost too much to bear. It was either that or the adrenaline rush from when Daniel had walked back through the door. He wasn’t going back to sleep.
He got back out of bed and pulled on his clothes and holster, slotting the Ruger back onto his thigh. PTSD was great when people were really trying to kill you. Not so much when it flooded your body with adrenaline because some jackass moved a chair to go take a piss. Speaking of which, he had to take a piss, too.
Jensen didn’t even make eye contact with Daniel, who was seated in the armchair by the window, as he walked through the back door and partway into the woods. He looked around for nearby homes or curious people before he unzipped his fly and relieved himself. He tried to hurry to minimize his time in the rain, which seemed a constant now that he wasn’t trapped in a greenhouse under a tree. His bladder seemed to take forever to empty as the large raindrops splashed down on him.
Nobody seemed inclined to investigate the new residents. That was a good thing. They didn’t need any curious strangers coming by to check them out. It was a bit unnerving being around so many houses after spending the past few months in an isolated cabin up in the mountains. Houses probably meant people, and almost all of their experiences with other people recently had been negative.
Now they were surrounded by some sort of golf community. Hopefully most of the residents were weekenders or partial year. That made him think of something. He poked his head back in the doorway. “Wi-Fi password? Is this a rental or something?”
From the chair, Daniel called back, “Welcome to Chateau Durell, a quaint cottage nestled high in the mountains of northern Georgia, with many amenities to suit your needs. Located on Spring Lake, near Sky Valley, the premiere golf club in the area, and with easy access to Rabun Bald, the second tallest peak in Georgia, you’re sure to find outdoor activities for every member of your family.”
He smiled when Marcy yelled out from the bedroom, “You will never again have any activities if you don’t shut the hell up!”
Daniel called back, “What if I was the last man on earth? I’m pretty sure I could make that happen if I had to.”
Her response was chilling. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, you won’t be a man anymore.”
That silenced him.
Jensen broken the awkward stillness by asking, “She tells you to shut up and your brain goes to killing every other man on the planet? How does your brain even work? I’m curious.”
Daniel saw an opportunity and went for it. “I know you’re confused about brains, because you’re Army, but a brain is an organic computer made up of axons and dendrites. Electrical impulses travel…”
“Stow it,” Jensen said. “I’m familiar with what a brain IS, just not how YOURS works.”
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know either. It’s scary being in here sometimes.” He considered it for a moment. “I think I got dropped on my head a lot as a kid.”
Jensen, now wide awake and feeling better, simply snorted. “Now that’s something we can agree on.”
To his left, Marcy appeared in the doorway. She sighed. “I get him to shut up for just one second and you have to get him going again?” The tall blonde brushed past Jensen on the way out the door. “You better sleep with one eye open.” Jensen moved out of the doorway to give her some privacy as she found a place to urinate.
“Hey, Daniel. Did you happen to find any coffee while you were looking around? I think we might need it.”
“Actually, I did. The drawer to the right of the kitchen sink. I already ate some.” That explained his morning exuberance. Jensen had done the same thing more than once. Sometimes you needed a caffeine boost and didn’t have the time or cover to brew a pot. Those little instant packets in MREs were bitter and nasty, but they did the job.
“I’ll see if I can find some way to brew it. If not, I guess I’ll be snacking on a little bit myself.”
Daniel interjected, “There’s a pot and gas burner in the pantry. I was going to use it, but I didn’t want to be noisy and wake everybody up.”
Jensen just stared for a moment and shook his head. Intel.
Behind him, Marcy came back into the ‘chateau.’ Jensen looked at her and noted the red eyes and hair in disarray, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I haven’t gotten much sleep since the attack. I keep waking up thinking someone’s outside or the guys with the helicopter are back. I guess waking up to gunfire and having someone drop a bomb on you will mess up your sleep a little bit.”
She walked over to Daniel, still at the front window, and put her hands on his wide shoulders. “Sorry, cuddle bear. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” She leaned down to kiss the top of his head and put her arms around his neck. “But seriously, you’re as loud as a Harley in a tunnel sometimes.”
Jensen appeared in the doorway holding a pot and small fuel canister. “No, cuddle bear is always loud. Always.”
As though to prove Jensen wrong, Daniel held his tongue. Perhaps he thought not responding would prevent the nickname cuddle bear from sticking, but he was mistaken. Jensen set the fuel down on the counter and disappeared with the coffee pot.
After about ten minutes, he finally returned with water. “I grabbed this from the water heater. I figure it’s about as good as anything we’re going to find out there,” he said as he waved his hand in the vague direction of the golf course. Jensen set the pot down on the counter and stared at the fuel canister for a moment. “You didn’t happen to see a camp stove anywhere, did you?”
Daniel shook his head. “Nope, didn’t even occur to me. I figured if they had a fuel canister, there would probably be a stove somewhere.” He turned to look toward the kitchen. “There isn’t?”
Jensen disappeared back into the kitchen. The sound of drawers opening and closing and pans rattling came through the door faintly.
“Anything?”
Jensen reappeared at the door shaking his head. “Nothing.”
From the bedroom, Jessica’s voice added to the conversation. “Why not just use the grill out back?” Eyes swiveled in that direction as she came to the door carrying her M4. “’There’s a propane grill on the corner of the porch. There’s probably still gas in the tank.”
Jensen disappeared into the kitchen again and returned with
a long lighter. “I’ll check it out.”
Jessica stopped him. “Maybe you should boil the water in something else so you can pour it through the grounds back into the pot. I hate coffee grounds in my coffee.”
Once again, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small pan, partially filled with water from the now empty pot. It didn’t take long before the smell of the heating grease from the grill started to fill the small house. Daniel stood up. “I wasn’t all that hungry before. Now I could eat an entire steer, hooves and all.”
Their bellies, which had been empty for days, woke up to the smell of the grill. It was like burgers and sausages in the wet morning air. Not really breakfast food, but any food would have been nice. Even northern barbeque, which appears to be anything cooked on a grill rather than the distinct food group found in the south, would have been welcome.
Outside, Jensen looked down at the aluminum foil sheets under the grill. They’d clearly been put there by someone who didn’t want to clean the metal ridges between the small flames. The foil was speckled with bits of unidentifiable dark matter. He honestly considered whether it was safe to eat while he wished for the pot to heat up quickly. After a few moments, he removed the grate entirely and set the pot down on the foil to maximize the heat exposure.
If they didn’t have food, coffee was a close second.
As he waited for the water to heat, Jensen looked around at the tidy little cottage. He was under an overhang protecting the back porch. Someone had installed a ceiling fan above to help move the air during the sultry Georgia evenings when people liked to sit on the porch.
That was a thing down here. Growing up in Colorado, Jensen hadn’t really noticed many people sitting out on the porch. Ever. People were either inside with their electronics or out in the mountains hiking and skiing. It wasn’t until he’d arrived in Georgia that he started to see people regularly sitting out on the porch. He wasn’t sure what they were doing. Typically, they appeared to be just staring at people going by.
Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade Page 12