What's Left of My World: A Story of a Family's Survival

by C. A. Rudolph

  “Guess that explains why your body armor looks like it took a round of buckshot,” Norman said.

  “Yeah,” Christian said with a grin. “Because it did.”

  “I can’t feel any broken ribs. You need rest. Manage your breathing and take deep breaths often. Take the Vicodin for the pain.” Kristen looked up at Michelle. “Where is he staying?”

  Michelle paused for a second as if to contemplate the answer to Kristen’s question. She looked to Lauren who nodded to her. Looking at Christian, Michelle said, “He’ll be staying with us.”

  “Ok, well, keep an eye on him and make sure he keeps this dressing clean,” Kristen said. “He and John both need to change them daily.”

  “I can help with that,” Grace said, a little more enthusiastically than necessary. Lauren turned to her and smacked her on the leg. She stared at Lauren, wide-eyed. Michelle looked at both sisters and smiled. Kristen did as well. She pulled some wound dressings from her med kit and laid them on the floor.

  “I can’t spare too many of these, so you’ll need to boil them and reuse them,” Kristen said.

  “I think we can handle that,” Michelle said. She was thrilled beyond words that her family was complete again—at least, as complete as it could be. Everyone in the room was now smiling in some way, for one reason or another. After chatting for a few minutes and leaving a small bag of assorted medical supplies, the Perrys left the cabin and returned home.

  It wasn’t long before Lauren stood up and hobbled to her bedroom, excusing herself. “Sorry guys, but I’m going to bed—for a week.”

  Later that evening, Norman answered a knock on the door. It was Fred Mason. Norman welcomed him inside and Fred immediately noticed the stranger sitting in the recliner, almost half asleep. Christian’s eyes opened wide when he heard the door shut.

  “Who’s this?” Fred asked as he turned to Norman.

  Before Norman could speak, Grace walked up to Fred impulsively and said, “This is Christian.” She paused and turned to glance at Christian, then turned back to Fred and said, “Our new roommate.” She handed Fred a cup of coffee which he took willingly, thanking her and almost immediately taking a sip.

  Fred walked over to Christian, who sat up in the recliner, almost at attention.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” Fred asked.

  “I don’t think so, sir,” Christian said.

  “Where did you get the black uniform?” Fred curiously asked.

  “Department of Homeland Security,” Christian said with a grin.

  “Is that some kind of joke?” Fred demanded. His drill sergeant-esque voice was beginning to come out.

  “No sir, no joke,” Christian answered confidently. “I’m an ex-employee.”

  “What exactly do you mean by ex-employee?”

  “I was disavowed,” Christian responded, not missing a beat. “They tried to terminate my employment with extreme prejudice, but were unsuccessful in their endeavors.”

  Fred turned to Norman, who shrugged. He then looked down at Christian’s backpack which was overflowing with gear, his attention drawn immediately the body armor and the two Larue suppressed M4 carbines.

  “Well, that explains the hardware,” Fred said approvingly. He finally reached out his hand to Christian. “Sergeant Major Fred Mason, United States Army retired.”

  Christian smiled and shook Fred’s hand. “Corporal Christian Hartman, Shenandoah Valley Legionnaires. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  Fred smiled and cocked his head to the side. “What is that exactly? Militia?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Christian replied. “It’s one of the oldest active militias in the Commonwealth.” Pointing to Fred’s Airborne Ranger Coat of Arms tattoo, he said, “We studied Ranger doctrine.”

  “No shit,” Fred said with a smile.

  “Not recently,” Christian said.

  Fred laughed slightly. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s nice to meet you, Corporal.”

  “You as well, Sergeant Major,” Christian said with a wide grin.

  “Carry on.”

  Christian saluted and leaned the recliner back to where it’d been before, closing his eyes. Fred turned to Norman and Norman gave him a quizzical look.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Fred said as he took another sip of coffee.

  “For good coffee?” Grace inserted as she took a seat on the couch.

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Norman joked.

  Michelle walked into the room from the hallway. She said hello to Fred and took a seat on the couch beside Grace.

  “I wanted to see if you’d be willing to pay a visit to some neighbors in the morning,” Fred said, almost uncomfortably.

  “I take it, you’re referring to the Bradys,” Norman said.

  “Yes, that’s who I mean,” Fred confirmed.

  “If you think we can get through to them, I’m game,” Norman said. “But I have my doubts.”

  “We all do,” Fred said. “Some of us more than others—that’s why I didn’t bother asking Peter or Michael—and just came straight here.”

  Michelle cocked her head and raised her hand. “Guys, can I make a suggestion?” she asked.

  “Be my guest,” Fred replied.

  Michelle adjusted herself in her seat. “If you two go there by yourselves, I’m pretty sure the Bradys won’t hear you out.”

  “How do you figure?” Norman asked with a curious look.

  “I imagine they are going to be on the defensive—seeing two men, from a community they alienated themselves from, showing up on their front yard from out of nowhere uninvited. It’s just a thought, but I’m guessing you’ll need something to divert their thoughts a bit.”

  “I’m not following you,” Fred said.

  “I suggest you take along some—eye candy,” Michelle explained, nudging Grace with her elbow.

  Norman and Fred looked at each other and then back at Michelle and Grace.

  “What?” Norman asked.

  Grace interjected. “Eye candy. Window dressing. Something attractive with other redeeming qualities,” she said.

  “Do you really think that will work?” Fred pondered.

  “I think it will keep you both from getting shot,” Michelle said jokingly.

  Michelle and Grace laughed. It was a laugh that hadn’t been heard in the cabin in a few days. With Lauren home and safe, Michelle was relaxed and her bubbly personality was finally able to show itself. She and Grace giggled and fed off of each other like two little girls. Norman smiled uncomfortably and Fred turned away, waving them off with an annoyed look on his face.

  “All right, enough of that shit,” Fred said. “Tomorrow morning, the four of us will go visit the Bradys—err Brady Bunch.” He shook his head as he walked out the door, to the tune of the Brady Bunch theme song, which was now being sung by both Michelle and by Grace.

  Chapter 16

  FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo

  Woodstock, Virginia

  Several months earlier

  Faith walked steadily from the field on a hard dirt path that ran alongside the road, following a large group of others. Her friend Debbie and Debbie’s husband Ben were walking with her, as they had just finished the morning’s work and were headed back to the cafeteria for lunch. They had spent the morning planting seeds for lettuce, spinach, and a host of other vegetables that were to be harvested in the coming fall months. It wasn’t the easiest work in the world, but they, and other members of the older generation like them, were happy to have something to keep themselves occupied. Most of them had had gardens of their own that they’d cared for with pride and used to feed their families before the collapse, just like their parents had done before them. Faith had been chatting with Debbie all morning about the things that were going on in the camp that worried her the most. Debbie was in the process of explaining to her what she knew about the executions that had been occurring there, almost since the first day that the DHS had taken over.


  “They’re calling it humane termination,” Debbie said quietly. “Anyone who is deemed a danger to the camp or themselves is humanely terminated. We believe anyone who becomes an unnecessary strain on their system is treated with the same consideration. The sick, elderly, and even people who speak their minds a little too much have all disappeared.”

  “This isn’t Nazi Germany,” Faith said angrily. “Who do these people thing they are?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Faith. They are in charge,” Debbie replied. “We have to do what they tell us to do, in order for everyone to be safe.”

  “It’s only for now, anyway,” Ben followed. “Before long it’ll be safe, and we’ll be allowed to go home.”

  Faith looked at Ben sternly. “Go home to what? What will be left of our homes, if and when we are allowed to go back, Ben?”

  “I don’t have all the answers,” Ben said. “I just know what we’re told. There’s no other option right now, and we just need to make the best of it. We came here willingly and we just have to go along with the plan.”

  “You both have been desensitized and brainwashed by this,” Faith said. “This is an autocracy under a humanitarian façade, and you both believe it’s what’s best for us.”

  “Anything is better than fighting to survive outside the fence,” Debbie said. “Here, we have everything we need to continue our lives.”

  Faith wasn’t convinced. She had spent her entire life a free person, able to do whatever she wanted. She followed the laws of the land and the laws set forth by God. She respected and honored her husband. To her, there was no other authority. Now, it seemed to her like this camp had become a small dictatorship, operating without any oversight, complete with corporal punishment and euthanasia. It ignored the Bill of Rights and was punishing normal everyday people for wanting the lives guaranteed to them by it.

  “Who runs this place anyway?” Faith asked, her voice sounding more and more perturbed by the minute.

  “His name is Bronson,” Debbie replied. “He’s a big wig in the DHS—something equivalent to a regional commander or something. He runs this camp and several others across the region.”

  “Is he stationed here?” Faith asked. “Where is his office?”

  “His office is down the road at the old Massanutten Military Academy with the other higher-ups,” Ben said. “DHS and FEMA took it over as their regional command center. He comes here sometimes and when he does, he brings quite the entourage.”

  “He’s pretty well protected, Faith,” Debbie added. “No one can touch him, so please don’t get any ideas. Even bringing up his name could have consequences. I know you miss Sam—I don’t want to see you do anything that you’d regret.”

  Faith thought for a moment. She agreed—she did miss her husband desperately. But she wasn’t an idiot and had no intention of doing anything that would jeopardize the reputation she had in this place. She was known to be a genuine person by the staff. She wasn’t a trouble-maker. She spoke matter-of-factly, but never insulted anyone. She followed directions even if she didn’t agree with them. She had friends like Karen Mitchell who had been witness to her good behavior over her time spent in women’s detention. Officer Mitchell had introduced her to Officer Mike Brown who, for all intents and purposes, was her advocate now in Senior Quarters and she was in the process of solidifying her relationship with him. Faith had been a good little conformist, even though every fiber of her being pulled her in the other direction. She wanted to resist, but what good would it do? Here in this place, like it or not she was powerless. With so many people following the status quo and believing it was best for them, not one thing she did as a single person would matter. For now, at least.

  Faith, Debbie, and Ben walked into the cafeteria and were served trays of food, which they took to a table and found a seat.

  “Is everyone who works here complicit?” Faith asked. “Do they all know?”

  “Keep your voice down, Faith” Ben requested under his breath.

  “Of course they know, Faith—they have to know,” Debbie added, placing a hand on her husband’s forearm.

  “I don’t understand how they can allow this to happen,” Faith began. “They are putting free people to death for crimes invented by the terms of martial law—which is devised by oligarchs who want an easy way to suspend due process and control the people. They are creating kill lists just like the Nazis did—undesirables are put out of their misery, and no one even bats an eye. Is anyone even ‘human’ anymore?”

  “They are following orders, just like us,” Ben said passively.

  “Ben is right. They’re following orders. They’re scared of consequences, just like us,” Debbie said.

  “It’s funny that both of you say that,” Faith said. “That’s the excuse the Nazis used as a last-ditch effort for clemency during the Nuremberg trials.” She paused and took a drink of water. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not scared,” Faith proclaimed. “These people are nothing to be afraid of. Death is nothing to be afraid of.”

  Ben took a bite of his sandwich and set it down on the tray in front of him. “So, what do you intend to do, Faith? Start an uprising? Are you going to rise up and fight the power all by yourself? It’s too late for that now. Anything you do will be an exercise in futility. You might as well just bite the bullet and go along with things like the rest of us.”

  “I think God would want us to turn the other cheek,” Debbie uttered.

  “Exactly, Debbie,” her husband agreed.

  Faith sat quietly in her seat, appearing to have lost her appetite. She knew that any violent act would be dealt with harshly here, and the camp had more than enough security and firepower to cut down everyone if they needed to. She wasn’t stupid—she knew they were prepared for just such a thing and possibly, were just waiting for the chance. Faith suddenly stood up and walked off toward the exit door that lead outside, while Debbie and Ben looked on surprised. The guard who stood by the door held his hand up to her.

  “Let me pass, please,” Faith requested. Her voice was soft, yet stern.

  The guard looked at her, confused at first, and then peered up at his supervisor who stood near the breezeway that lead to the hall. His supervisor shrugged and then nodded to him and he let Faith pass through the door to the outside. Faith smiled and thanked the guard, and then proceeded through the doorway.

  Once outside, Faith cleared the parking lot quickly. Before she knew it, she was back on Falcon Drive, passing the running track to her left and the parking lot full of black-painted school buses to her right. A couple vehicles carrying guards drove past her as she walked and they looked at her curiously, but didn’t stop. As she turned right on Ox Road, she glanced up at the water tower and noticed that one of the guards there had his rifle aimed at her, possibly to get a look at her through his optic, but she wasn’t sure. She waited for the sound of a gunshot that might seal her fate. Her breathing became heavier as she continued to walk at a brisk pace, now turning onto Warren Drive, where the old Holiday Inn Express building, that had been converted to the men’s detention center, came into view directly in front of her. As she got closer, she could see the guards at the gate that led into it. Both had already eyeballed her, and were chatting with each other and pointing at her. Faith walked directly up to the two guards who stood at the gate. Both wore body armor and were carrying rifles which were slung over their shoulders. They looked at her quizzically for a moment, then at each other.

  “Is there something we can help you with, ma’am?” the first guard asked.

  Faith caught her breath. This was the most she had walked in a while. “Yes. I’d like to see my husband, please,” she replied.

  The guards smiled and looked at each other and then back at her.

  “I’m sorry—it doesn’t work that way, ma’am,” the first guard said in a semi-jovial voice. He assumed she was kidding, or lost. Perhaps just old and senile.

  “Sir, I haven’t seen my husband in months. He�
��s been cooped up in this building since we arrived here and they didn’t allow me to see him. I miss him and I want to see him now,” Faith explained. Seeing the disdainful looks she was getting, she changed her tone back to normal, and followed with, “Please?”

  The guards shook their heads. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” the first guard said while his partner remained silent. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

  Faith sighed. She turned away from the guards and began walking to the other gate in front of the women’s detention center. As she walked away, the guards called to her, and she ignored them. Once she had reached the gate, the guards there—one man and one woman, eyeballed her curiously.

  “Ma’am?” the male guard said. “Are you supposed to be here right now? Did you hear the other guards calling for you?”

  “I’m really sorry to bother you,” Faith began, “but is there any way you could get Officer Mitchell for me?”

  The guards looked at each other and shrugged.

  “You want to speak to Officer Mitchell?” the male guard asked.

  “Yes I would like that very much,” Faith replied with a comforting smile.

  “What’s this in reference to?” the female guard questioned.

  “Well, I used to be here,” Faith said as she pointed to the building, “and now I’m over there.” She pointed behind her. “I just had a few questions, that’s all. I won’t take up much of her time.”

  The guards looked at each other and shrugged. The male guard smiled and said, “I’ll go see if she’s available. Can I tell her who’s asking for her?”

  “Faith Gallo,” she said.

  The guard walked away, leaving the female guard to stand with Faith. The two said nothing to each other. Faith just stood there confidently, occasionally crossing her arms and smiling. A few minutes had gone by before the male guard walked out of the building’s front doors with Karen Mitchell following him. Just like she always did, she carried her clipboard close to her chest. When she saw Faith, she smiled and waved. Faith waved back. Karen told the female guard to open the gate. She then walked over to Faith and reached out, touching her on the shoulder.