Once Upon an Apocalypse: Book 1 - The Journey Home - Revised Edition

by JEFF MOTES

  The guy at the door moves into the barn. Remaining still, I listen, then I hear a woman scream, “Get off me!”

  I lose it right there and race for the door, only to trip on some debris on the ground. Falling face first, my carbine underneath me, it knocks my wind out. I writhe on the ground, trying to regain my breath. I must be making enough noise to wake the dead. The thunder rolls. It takes a minute or so to regain myself. Adrenaline is working overdrive and I force myself to stay calm. Getting back on my feet I make it to the corner of the truck and look in. All three men are surrounding the woman. I scan the barn for any others, but see none and return my attention to the men holding the woman down. It appears two men are holding her arms and one is in front of her. Her shirt has already been ripped open and her chest is bare. The woman is no longer screaming and appears to have ceased struggling.

  The man in front is removing her pants and says, “Now honey, you’re going to get what's coming to you.”

  My course of action has already been determined. Raising the carbine, I put the red dot on center mass of the guy on the right and fire two quick shots. The only sound heard from the carbine is the working of the action as the spent case is ejected and another 9mm subsonic round is loaded. The guy pulling on her pants freezes as I readjust my aim. I fire two quick shots at him. The side of his head explodes. The third guy has managed to stand, looking confused, and I place two rounds into his chest. He falls hard across the woman’s chest. The woman gasps loudly.

  I run into the barn. Not knowing if they have weapons on them, I’m upon them in a flash. I put two rounds in the head of the first guy and the second. Reaching down I pull the third guy off the woman. Blood is on her body and I pray I didn’t hit her. Throwing the guy off, he hits the dirt floor with a thud.

  “Help,” he croaks.

  Raising my carbine, I put two bullets in his head.

  Placing the safety back on the carbine, I kneel beside the woman. She’s not moving. I look at the blood on her chest and start searching for a bullet wound but find nothing. It must be bastard number three’s blood. Placing two fingers on the side of her neck, I check for a pulse. It’s strong, yet she’s not breathing. Repositioning myself beside her, I tilt her head and check her air passage. Placing my mouth over hers, I give her three quick breaths. Her chest rises and falls with each breath. I pause. Nothing. I place my mouth back over hers and start rescue breathing, counting between each breath. On the fifth breath she coughs, then starts breathing on her own.

  Sitting back for a moment there are tears forming in my eyes. She lives! Thank God, she lives!

  Chapter 20

  John

  Jill Barnes

  Day 2

  I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster today. From anger, to fear, to self-doubt, to anxiety, to rage, to determination. Now with relief overwhelming me, tears fill my eyes as I see this woman is still alive. However, there is no time for emotions now. The storm is raging outside. I shove the feelings back inside; there is much to be done.

  By the rise and fall of her chest, the woman’s breathing appears to be smooth. The firelight is dimming, as the wood burns low and shadows jump here and there. I shot each of those bastards two times, then two times again. That means twelve rounds. There were fifteen rounds available in the carbine and magazine. I’m now down to three. From my left pants pocket I withdraw a new Glock magazine containing fifteen rounds of sub-sonic ammo. Removing the magazine from the carbine, I insert the new. Now there are sixteen rounds available, one in the chamber and fifteen in the magazine. I pocket the nearly empty magazine in my right pocket.

  My thoughts and gaze returns to the woman. She has bastard number three’s blood on her. I probably shouldn’t do anything about that. Reaching over I grab both sides of her shirt to pull it closed. That’s when I notice her bra is cut apart. Nothing I can do about that either. I feel for the buttons, and discover they have all been ripped off. I pull the shirt tight around her, overlapping the sides. When I let go it comes back apart. I overlap the shirt again but this time not as tightly. The shirt separates, though only a few inches. Well, at least I got her breasts covered.

  Looking around, I see a pack against the wall. It’s a camo bag with pink highlights. Must be the woman’s. I walk over and look inside. There are a variety of supplies, female clothes and, what I was looking for, a sleeping bag. I pull the bag out. After pulling the sleeping bag out of its compression bag, I go toward the woman, unzipping as I do. With the zipper all the way undone, it becomes a blanket. Kneeling, I lay it over her and tuck it in at the sides.

  There is a wood pile to the right of the door I hadn’t noticed before. Picking up two pieces I add them to the dying fire, pick up my carbine, and head back into the rain. Its full dark, the rain is hard and cold, and fog is rising from the ground. I raise the carbine and turn the flashlight to high beam. Even with the 1000 lumen output, I can only see about fifty feet in front of me. When I make the fence line I don’t see my pack. Tracking to my right, I spot it under the bushes where I placed it. It’s very wet. While the pack is water resistant, it is not waterproof. I hope the contents have not been damaged. There was no time to put the rain fly on it when I started for the barn. I track back along the fence until I come to the bike and load the pack back in the trailer. Maybe I should have left it in the trailer instead of moving it down the fence line. I just didn’t want to take the chance of losing the bike and my gear at the same time. I turn for the barn. The fog is too thick to see it. Great! The last thing I need is to get lost in the fog. I search for the truck tracks; they’re only a few yards out and I follow them, returning to the barn doors from the right.

  I move my gear and everything into the barn. Adding another piece of wood to the fire, I set my bag close by to dry. Opening the bag, I remove the NVD that was sitting on the top. Whew! It’s dry. I grab the head lamp from the bag and put it on, then walk to the truck and open the door. Inside, I look around. The keys are in the ignition. I turn the key over and check the gas gauge. Half a tank, that’s good. Lots of trash and beer cans are on the floor. On the seat is a pink inside the waistband (IWB) holster. I pocket the key and close the door.

  Back inside, I’m beginning to feel the chill. The rain has cooled the air considerably. The wind is blowing and I’m wet and cold, but I can’t do anything about it yet. I go back over to the woman and lean my carbine against the wall, then grab bastard number one by his legs and pull him to the far corner of the barn. Checking his pockets, I find a loaded 38 special snub-nosed revolver and six lead bullets. I pull his billfold from his back pocket. Harold Jenkins is his name. He also has a buck knife stuck inside his boot. I drop the items in the left corner by the door. I do the same for bastard number two. His name is Earl Smith. He has a Hi-point 9mm with one magazine. I deposit his items with the others and return for bastard number three. I pile him with the others. His name is Hank Jones. He has a Glock 19 and a spare magazine. I look at the Glock a little closer and see the writing has been highlighted in pink. I glance back at the sleeping woman across the barn and smile. This must belong to her. I put the Glock and extra magazine next to my bag and dump the other items with the rest in the corner. Going back outside, I get the tarp from the back of the truck and start back. I pause at the truck, lean in, and grab the pink holster off the seat.

  Once back inside, I drop the holster by my bag, then continue to the back and cover the bodies with the tarp. I find an SKS, an AK47 and a Mossberg 500 pump shotgun, leaning against the wall near where the woman is lying. I eject the chambered rounds from each and put them in the pile in the corner. My weapons need to be cleaned, but I’m shaking so bad I decide to use a Rem Oil wipe for now and clean them good tomorrow during the day.

  I have to do something or I’m going to be hypothermic. I’m shaking all over. From my pack I pull out the large heavy duty ziplock bag containing my clothes. I get out a pair of pants, t-shirt, boxers, and wool socks. From another ziplock bag I get a towel and s
ome lightweight camp flop shoes. Looking back at the woman, I see she is still asleep. Stripping down, I dry myself as best I can with the towel. My hair is soaking wet and I’m shivering uncontrollably. I get dressed as fast as I can and my shaking lessens. Now I’ve got to do something with my wet clothes. I pull a hank of 550 paracord from the pack. Securing one end to a bent nail on the left wall, I stretch it across the corner to the adjacent wall. About three feet back from the wall, I put a loop in the line, then hang the cord around a board nailed into the wall. Taking the trailing end of the cord I pull it back through the loop, use this leverage to pull the line tight, then cinch it off. I hang my wet clothes over the line. It sags deeply, but keeps everything off the ground.

  I’m hungry and I’m cold. But more cold than hungry. I need to warm up soon! From the trailer I get the ground pad and from my pack the sleeping bag and ground mat. I roll them out, not too close, but not too far from the woman. Before getting in, I add two more pieces of wood to the fire. On a whim, I retrieve my glow stick and returning to the woman, I turn it on low, and lay it beside her. Getting my first good look at her, something dawns on me. I look at her again, staring through the blood on her face. There’s no doubt. That’s Jill Barnes!

  Jill Barnes! I can hardly believe it. How in the world did she end up here? I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving. “Dear God, thank You for sending me at the right time!”

  I’m freezing. Returning to my bag, I remove my camp flops and get in. The down filling is warm and it feels good. The fire doesn’t do much to heat the room. It’s little more than a glow of flickering light, but it might help dry the outside of my pack. I was surprised the water didn’t seep through. Condor makes a pretty good bag.

  How do I even describe today’s events, even to myself? I start the day with high hopes, end up freeing some kids, then fighting some evil bastards and saving Jill. Yep, that about sums it up. I understand desperate people will do desperate, stupid, and violent things. I don’t approve, but I can understand it. Yesterday, Officer Brunson was a desperate man. I understand why he did what he did, but if he had gotten on my bike I would have shot him nonetheless. The second guy, I don’t know about him, except he was trying to put me in a desperate situation and that wasn’t going to happen. But these… these evil bastards, there was no reason other than pure evil for what they were doing. Killing and raping. There would have been more, no doubt. How many evil people like these bastards are going to spring into action since law enforcement practically doesn’t exist anymore? If this is a taste of things to come, it’s going to be really bad.

  I consider all the small events of today and how they brought me to the big events, even to where I am now. There is no doubt God’s providential hand was guiding me this day. His hedge of protection was there the whole time.

  My carbine is a nifty little compact rifle. Its intended purpose was to get me home, to allow me to protect myself and secure small game. It was never intended to be used as an assault weapon. If any of those bastards had gotten their hands on any of their guns, they would have made Swiss cheese out of me. I know that. I was just a trip to the ground away from getting myself and Jill killed. That fall saved my life. While I was lying on the ground trying to regain myself Jill was being assaulted, but it was their full attention upon her that allowed me to get the jump on them. It’s the little things that make no sense, except in its entirety, that make the difference between life and death. Now there’s the truck. With the truck and the half tank of gas, we might be able to get home tomorrow.

  Tomorrow!

  That sounds so good.

  My thoughts return to Jill. How did she find herself in these circumstances? What brought her to this place at this time? She obviously had a pack, supplies, and a pistol. I’ve known Jill for a long time, all the way back to middle school. She was three grades behind me, so I only saw her in middle school for one year, then three years later in high school for one year. She always seemed like a very capable and nice person. I’ve seen her around and even talked with her some since, but wow, here right now. I wish she hadn’t got involved with Clyde Baker. I still don’t understand that, but it’s not mine to understand.

  My intentions are clear. I am going to do the best I can, with the best I have, to live and help those around me live. I’ll do the same for Jill, if she wants me to. Evidently, God put us together for a reason. That decision is up to her. For now, I’ve got to warm up and rest. I’m so exhausted. I glance over at Jill one last time. She appears to be resting peacefully. I close my eyes, and the sound of the rain lulls me into sleep.

  Chapter 21

  John

  Waiting for Jill

  Day 3

  The rain is falling softly now. It hasn’t stopped all night. The morning air is cool and damp. I finally warmed up some time during the night. It’s 5:00 a.m. and I’m awake, just like every other day. There is no light from this overcast morning. I remain in my bag, enjoying the warmth after the chills last night. All that remains of the fire are a few red embers. Maybe I can use those to start a new fire shortly.

  Glancing over, I see the soft light of the glow stick reflecting off Jill. It’s clear she hasn’t moved during the night. It’s still hard to believe I’ve run across her.

  Lying there, I contemplate a plan for the day. I have to clean my weapons and find water. I need to study my maps and select a route around the cities and towns if possible. If I drive a truck through one of them, the police may attempt to confiscate it and, depending on how many there are, I may have no choice but to let them have it. That would be a real letdown. It’s attitudes like that which have kept me from living in cities. Too often government thinks what you have belongs to them and you only have what you have because they allow you to have it. I don’t think that way.

  Now my planning is going to have to include Jill. Is she traveling back to Jackson? Is she going somewhere else? Either way, I’m not going to leave her alone. Two people together are stronger than one. We’ll have to talk about it when she wakes up. She was roughed up pretty bad. The reddening and slight swelling on the left side of her face and the red marks around her neck were evident last night. She undoubtedly sustained those wounds while I was on the ground struggling to regain myself.

  Jill was obviously prepared for something or was on her way camping. I didn’t go through her pack except to get the sleeping bag, but I saw enough to know she had several days of supplies. The Glock 19 with pink highlights is no doubt hers. That’s no surprise; she was always kind of tomboyish in school. Maybe that's why a few of the hotshot guys gave her a hard time. I know she’s tough. She’s practically raised Lizzy by herself ever since that dumbass Clyde abandoned her before Lizzy was born. Honestly, that was probably the best thing that could have happened to her. When she awakens, I’ll talk to her about her plans. I hope she’s trying to get back home. It will make things much less complicated for me.

  Everything is in place back home. Plans have already been made. If Will follows them he should be okay. The only question is Lizzy. To what lengths will he go to find Lizzy? That I don’t know. Will has a good head on his shoulders and is a capable young man. What he has been taught will help keep him safe should things get tough for him. He should be okay.

  It's only been three days since the EMP, or the solar flare, or the whatever. What it actually was doesn’t matter at the moment. Maybe later it will, for now though the results are the same. It left me stranded more than two hundred miles from home. What should this terrible event be called? I read a book back in high school, and again several times later, by Pat Frank, Alas, Babylon. Dad read it when he was in the 9th grade. He insisted I read it, saying how much that book had shaped his thinking on being prepared. Well, I couldn't read it only once. In the book the author refers to the terrible day that changed civilization as, “The Day.” So, why not? Until something better comes along I’ll call it The Day as well.

  For now, I better get stirring. The dim light from the morning
is growing, though still not enough to function with. I find the headlamp and put it on. Setting it on low, I get up and put the camp flops on and retrieve my belt and holster from my pack. After putting them on, I remove the light from the pistol and holster it. I stow the light back in the pack, still amazed everything is dry inside.

  I get the fire starting kit and walk over to the wood pile. The wood is mostly broken limbs with a few old boards. Everything is good and dry. Grabbing a few of the smaller limbs and a board, I lay them down close to the glowing red embers. I also get a handful of dry hay from one of the old bales. Kneeling, I pick up the board and with my knife, whittle a large handful of shavings. Using my Gerber scabbard knife, I split the board into strips about an inch wide. From my kit I get an old medicine bottle that is packed full of Vaseline impregnated cotton balls. I tear one open and lay it across the embers. It starts smoking, then a flame appears. I add a little hay, but not too fast, I don’t want to smother the fire. The hay is burning when I add the shavings, then the board strips. After a few minutes, the fire catches up and the board strips start burning good. Then I add the limbs. Too often people have trouble building fires because they get in too big of a hurry and smother it. I take my time. As the limbs start up, I get a few larger pieces from the pile. There isn’t much left in the pile, but I don’t plan on being here very long. The fire is burning good now and lighting the barn. I can feel the heat and back away a little.

  My boots are very wet from yesterday so I set them by the fire to dry. It would be so nice if they would dry out! The wool socks I have will keep my feet warm even when wet, but it would be so much better if they are dry. I check my other clothes. The pants and socks are still damp but the rest feel as if they have dried.

  By now its 6:00 and the light is increasing outside. The rain is steady, though light. It keeps the air cool and damp. Pulling my long sleeve t-shirt out of the bag I slip it over the one I’m wearing to help cut the chill on my arms.