Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  Sam looked up to see a thin, white male in a white t-shirt and brown shorts walking briskly toward the motorhome, carrying what looked like a coffee mug in his hands. Pointing at Jimmy, he said, “Get that door open and ask if he's Henry or not.”

  Jimmy opened the door and bolted outside, and Sam rushed to his daughter's side, his heart breaking as he saw how much she had to fight for each precious breath. Her skin was deathly pale, almost blue in spots, and he knew if she didn't get medical attention in the very near future, she wouldn't be long for the world.

  Sliding his arm around her, he leaned in to kiss her on the top of the head. A moment later, he heard the sound of a stranger speaking in a Midwest American accent. He looked toward him, seeing the man handing over the mug he had been carrying.

  “Give this to your daughter,” he said. “It'll help her breathing.”

  He took the mug and held it up to Eliza's lips. “Eliza, you need to drink this. This man says it'll help your breathing.”

  Eliza took a tiny sip, followed by another as she wheezed in and out another hard-fought breath.

  “Come on, drink some more. It has medicine in it.”

  After a particularly loud gasp, Eliza sipped the tea-like substance a few more times. After a few minutes of deathly silence, Eliza said, “This stuff tastes yucky.”

  Noticing that a bit of color was returning to her face, Sam asked, “Is it helping your breathing any?”

  After taking another, larger sip, she looked up and said, “Yeah, this works better than the nebulizer.”

  Irene put both her hands on her daughter's face, kissing her on the forehead. “We're going to be okay, this man is going to take care of you.”

  Sam turned to look at him and said, “You must be Henry Adams.” He stuck his hand out in greeting. “My apologies for not making my introduction.”

  The small-framed man grinned from ear-to-ear, the old-fashioned round-framed glasses on his face giving him a look of an intellectual type, although his choice of clothes, lack of shoes and long hair done up in a ponytail reminded him of a hippie from the Sixties. Giving Sam a long, heartfelt handshake, he said, “Welcome to your new home.” He pointed a thumb out the door. “Maria is getting dinner together, so when your daughter's feeling a bit better, I'd like for you fellows to come in and have dinner with us.”

  Jimmy said, “Oh good. I'm famished.”

  Before he had a chance to chastise him for being rude, Eliza interrupted by saying, “What's in this stuff? I haven't been able to breathe this good in ages.”

  Henry laughed and said, “It's just a concoction of natural herbs and things. Beats pharma drugs, huh?”

  Sam looked up at Henry's smiling face, a single thought repeating itself over and over as his eyes misted over with tears. Miracles really do happen.

  A few minutes later, the five of them stepped out of the motorhome, and as he stepped out into the wet grass, Sam saw an orange glow off to his left. Looking at it for a few moments, the clouds parted a bit more, allowing the sunset to appear in its full glory, the entire sky turning orange and red in a spectacular explosion of color.

  Pointing with his hand, Henry grinned and said, “That's the first time I've seen the sun in twenty days. Looks like your arrival is a sign of good things to come.”

  Sam took a moment to look at his wife, who held Eliza's hand. “Looks like we've made it to the Promised Land after all, doesn't it?”

  She looked at him with a gleaming smile. “Yes, I say we have.”

  Henry waved at them to follow him. “Come on, Maria is eager to meet you guys.”

  Sam followed his family toward the modest house under the magically glowing sky of orange, feeling as if he was walking into Heaven itself. Which in a way, he was.

  Jimmy's Journal Entry, March 2nd, 2020

  Oh gosh, where to begin. I guess I should go back to Christmas Day, when we finally made it to Henry Adam's ranch. No doubt that was the hand of God working, as we barely had enough gas to make it – the engine quit just as we pulled up next to his house, no lyin', I promise. My sister was on the verge of death, her asthma was so bad, but Henry had this magic tea waiting for her, and as soon as she drank it, her breathing came back just as if she'd done a treatment in the hospital. Just like that, she could breathe again. You know, the funny thing is, Henry is an avowed atheist. I mean, he's the greatest, he really is, but it's funny that he's not a believer, but when it comes to me, Dad, Mom and Eliza, we will always believe. If anyone had any clue of what we went through after Yellowstone went off, they'd be a believer too. There's just no possible way we could have made it otherwise. No possible way in a million years.

  Religious discussions aside, I guess I should write about what's happened since then. For one thing, we've been staying in the motorhome, and we're hooked up to power, when it's available from the grid. Sometimes it's on, sometimes it's not, but it's great when we do have it. Henry, and his wife, Maria, a really nice Costa Rican lady, have a very modest house, just a few rooms and a porch, which is why we're living in the motorhome until we can get our own house built. It's a bit cramped at times, but it's nice and comfy, and it's home, so we're very grateful that we were able to bring it down here.

  As for where we'll be living someday, all of us are working to build a house big enough for the whole family, about a half mile away from where we are now. There's a natural spring right next to it, so it'll have running water, and while it won't be hooked up to the grid, Henry thinks we'll be able to get solar panels from Brazil someday, so we'll be able to use appliances and stuff. In the meantime, we do the cooking and eating in the main house, with Maria doing most of the cooking, with Mom helping when she lets her. I tell ya, she's a real sweet gal. She loves all us to death. Henry's awesome too, of course, but Maria, she's like diamonds and gold put together. She's also a great teacher too, and she's been teaching both me and Eliza Spanish just about every day. Eliza's picking up on it a lot faster than me, I guess she has a knack for it. But I can hold my own when it comes to the basics, like going to the markets and stuff, so it's all good.

  Oh yeah, Uncle Ryan. It took a whole month to reach him on the ham radio, even with the twenty-foot extension Henry put up for the antenna. We stayed on that thing a couple of hours each and every night, trying to get contact with him up in Michigan. Dad thought that he might have been dead, but Henry said that it's just really hard to get good conditions (the skip) sometimes to talk over such a great distance like that. On January 25th, we finally got through to him, and we were able to talk for over three hours before we lost the skip.

  I tell you what, I think it might have saved his life, as we got the impression that he was getting pretty suicidal up there, as he thought we were goners. Not an unreasonable thing for him to think, considering what we went through, but he was really torn up about it, insisting that he should have never let us leave when we did. I was, like, come on, we're down here, it's a wonderful place to start over, Henry and Maria are two of the most awesome people in the world, and we had to convince him that we're very thankful for his help in setting up the motorhome so we could make it to Mobile. Without his help, we'd not have made it past Wisconsin, so hopefully he understands that.

  As for how he's doing up there, well, it's really cold. He still thinks there will be zero summer up there for at least two years, maybe longer, and that's what Henry thinks too. But he and Nora think they have enough supplies to last them that long. I think they should try coming down where when things get a bit better, as I'd go crazy just from being stuck in that house all the time. I just wish they'd come down with us, but I guess Uncle Ryan thinks he can start over again up there once the volcanic winter comes to an end. There won't be very many people left up there, that's for sure.

  Looking at what's happened to America, well, there is no more USA to speak of. As horrible it is to say this, it's pretty clear that just about everyone that wasn't able to flee like we did are most likely dead, except for a few preppers like
my uncle. It looks like Europe and Asia are the same way, as the whole northern hemisphere is pretty well iced over. Even down here, it's quite cool. We actually had a bit of frost around the middle of last month, but thank goodness it didn't kill the vegetable crops, just singed them a bit. Generally, it's been cloudy and cool, like England gets, or did get, I should say. Henry thinks it'll be like this down here for another year, and then it'll gradually warm up to normal conditions in eight or ten years. It's great for growing crops, actually, and since we have that gold and silver with us, obtaining supplies really isn't a problem. I sure am glad of that, as I really hated being hungry when we were trying to get to Mobile, as well as when Nora put us on rations back in Michigan. That sucked really bad, as I have to have my food. Mom says I was a monster when I didn't have food, well, I was one ticked-off dude, ha ha. So yeah, I'm very thankful that we have food to eat every day, as well as being able to enjoy Maria's awesome cooking skills. No doubt about it, we all have it really good down here.

  You might be wondering what's in store for the future. Well, I guess there's no way of knowing for sure, but as nice as Henry and Maria are, and how they appreciate us helping them out on the ranch (we all do our part to grow and harvest the crops around here, as well as tending to the animals,) they're certainly not gonna kick us off the farm anytime soon. I mean, he's letting us build a house on his land for us to live in, so that's a pretty good indication that we'll be staying here more or less permanently. Sometimes I think about going back to the States when the winter ends, but that's probably not going to happen, as it'll be a wasteland even when things do warm up. Besides, we really do have a good future here, so there's no reason to go back, really.

  Well, I could write more, lots more, really, but the goats need milking, and I've got to help Maria with the corn and beans, as well as checking on Dad over at the house, to see what supplies we'll need to get in town tomorrow. Around here, there's no end to work, I tell ya. But it's all good. :)

  So long until next time...