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

by JEFF MOTES

  “I’m going to be all right,” she says. “I only need to rest and get rid of this headache.” She closes her eyes.

  I dry the dishes with one of the towels and repack the cook kit. Jill has been through a lot and needs rest. It’s probably best if she doesn’t move today, even in the truck. I rub my chin, thinking. We’ll leave in the morning, if she’s up to it. That brings up a couple of other issues. First, the bodies. If we’re staying here tonight, I have to move the bodies somewhere outside. Second, water. I’m down to my last quart. I have to find water today. Jill has some water, though not much. I saw a few bottles in her pack when I got her sleeping bag and again when she asked for her bra. That bra puzzles me. Jill has a pack that seems to be well prepared, yet that bra is more like one Kathy would wear for a night out, but not like the lace ones she would wear for a night in. It’s obvious it wasn’t made for a lot of activity and sweating. I wonder why she would pack one like that. Unless…the cut bra she had on looked like a sports bra. Maybe on The Day she was wearing the one I found in the pack and she changed into the other for the journey home. Makes sense. But I’ll never know because I’m never going to ask.

  Jill has got to be pretty tough, but I already knew that. She seems to have a preparedness plan of some type. With her pack, and the fact she’s traveled about thirty miles or so on her own, she’s strong all right. She had the courage to move, not paralyzed in place by fear. How many women, or men for that matter, would let something like this paralyze them into inaction? How many are just sitting in a hotel room, dragging on a cigarette, waiting for someone to come save them?

  The ordinary is where we live, it’s comfortable. Serious thinking outside of ordinary makes many people uncomfortable. Too often people push those thoughts aside. I’ve seen it before, talking with friends. Good people, successful people, but refusing to consider “what if” ordinary is not ordinary anymore.

  A few winters back, Birmingham and Atlanta got completely shut down by unexpected icing of the roads. Many people got stranded on the interstate. The stories are well known. Too many, far too many, were totally unprepared, without a blanket, water, or even a flashlight. Fortunately, many found help by the next day, but what if help had not come? How many, having gone through that harrowing experience, are still just as unprepared today?

  One of the things that gets me the most about people not having at least some modest plans is the cost is so low considering the security gained. People buy car insurance in case an accident occurs. They buy home insurance in case some catastrophic event destroys their home. They buy health insurance in case they get seriously sick or injured, and they even buy life insurance to help protect those close to them in the event of their untimely death. Most people will spend many thousands of dollars on insurance, yet refuse to spend even a few hundred dollars on preparing for personal, out of the ordinary emergencies.

  I doubt Jill was prepared for an EMP type event, nonetheless, she was prepared for tough times. Me, well I’m undoubtedly an exception. I’ve been preparing myself for tough times most of my life. It’s what Dad taught me. I’ve invested thousands of dollars in an effort to make things not so tough when tough times come.

  Glancing outside, I see the rain has stopped.

  The rain!

  Why didn’t I think about it last night or early this morning? There was my water supply! All I had to do was build a catch and I would have had all the water we needed. It wouldn’t have been difficult to do with my rain jacket or Mylar emergency blanket and some paracord. Well, that opportunity is gone. I better start thinking more clearly if we’re going to make it home.

  My watch says it’s 9:10 a.m. It might be a good idea to scout around a little outside and see if there is any running water nearby. My boots are still damp but they’ll have to do. I put them on and pick up the drawstring bag. It’s dry, so I put the coins back in and place the bag in my right pocket. My pants are still damp, so I leave everything hanging. I walk to the door and look up, the sun is shining and there aren’t many clouds. Picking up my carbine and monocular, I head out the door.

  I scan the area and notice several thin tree lines. One is out back about two hundred yards. Some others cut across the pastures. These are either going to mean a fence or a water branch. I’ll have to check those out shortly. For now, I continue around the barn checking for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, I head down the road to the highway. This time I walk on the leaves to help mask any tracks I might make. The rain cleared all the truck and bike tracks. Getting close to the highway, I pause and listen. Hearing nothing, I proceed a bit further so I can observe in both directions. Again, there is nothing. I retrace my steps back to the barn, being sure to stay on the leaves.

  Something has to be done with the bodies. Before going over to them, I make sure Jill is still asleep, then uncover them. They are starting to swell a little. This is going to get nasty if I don’t get them out of here soon. I lay the tarp out and manage to get the bastards’ heavy, stiff bodies on to it. It’s a pretty good size tarp, so I pull the edges together and lace them closed using some paracord. Nope. I can’t budge it. The old rustbucket has a winch on the front. If it works, maybe I can winch the bastards out.

  Outside at the truck, I check the winch out. I insert the key and turn it over without cranking. I find two AK47 magazines loaded with steel case ammo. Mounted to the bottom of the dash is the winch control. I push the switch to Out. Nothing happens. I push the switch to In. Nothing happens. Under the dash is a spider web of wires hanging out. There is no way I’m going to get involved in repairing somebody’s wiring mess. Going back to the front, I locate the manual release and lock lever. I set it to release and pull on the cable. It doesn’t budge. I brace myself and give it an even harder jerk and it breaks free and the cable spools off. Okay, now I have to reposition the truck so I can pull them straight through the door.

  I lay the loose cable back on the bumper and step in the truck. As I crank it, I’m hoping it won’t wake Jill. I don’t want her to see this. Although the truck is a rustbucket, the engine fires right up. I reposition the truck so there’s a straight path between the winch and where the bodies are. Turning the truck off, I get out and grab the winch cable, pulling the cable into the barn. I don’t know how, but thankfully Jill is still asleep. She doesn’t need to see this nasty business. I attach the winch hook to a loop I previously tied in the paracord. Back at the truck, I lock the winch. Cranking the truck, I carefully start backing up. My eyes are glued to the pile easing out of the barn, hoping nothing will break or tear. Once the bodies are out the door I start looking for where to take them. There’s an old catch pen, but it’s too close to the barn. The fence lines are either too close or too far. I don’t want to just dump them in the field. Then I spot a clump of trees where an old piece of farm equipment has been sitting for a number of years. Trees are growing around, in, and through it. It’s about fifty yards away, so I drag the bodies over there. There isn’t a way to winch the cable back in, so I wrap the slack around the bumper.

  I have no feelings of remorse for what I’ve done, and that scares me. The guy on the bike. I regret having to do that, but there was no alternative. I know in my heart I did the right thing, although I wish I had not had to do it. These bastards were different. For these bastards, I have no remorse. After seeing what they did to those girls and what they were trying to do to Jill, I have no regrets at all. In two days, I have killed four men. Is this how men slip into a violent, callous life? I am a good man. My dad taught me to be a good man and I’ve worked hard to be a good man. This isn’t going to change that. I’ll fight to stay what I am, even if it means fighting myself.

  Chapter 24

  John

  Standing Too Damn Close

  Day 3

  After parking the truck in front of the barn doors, I check my watch. It’s 11:45 a.m. We aren’t leaving today, that’s for sure. I should go check on Jill. Her body took a pretty bad beating yesterday. She g
ot clotheslined while riding her bike. I guess that explains the horizontal red mark across her upper chest. She landed on her back and hit her head on the asphalt, knocking her out. She was assaulted by three bastards. She has a bruise forming on her left cheek where she was slapped or punched. There is bruising on her neck where it looks like someone tried to choke her, and a big man fell on her, his dead weight landing on her chest. She’s got to have rest. No way are we leaving today, period, and probably not tomorrow.

  I go in and over to her. She seems to be resting peacefully. The sleeping bag rises and falls with each breath. Placing my hand on her forehead, I feel no fever.

  I have got to attend to the water needs. I’m down to my last stainless steel quart bottle. Opening it, I take a drink. Within one of those thin tree lines I saw earlier is probably a small branch, but I can’t go check now. I don’t want to leave Jill vulnerable and defenseless. I’m going to have to wait a little longer. Jill has some water, though how much I don’t know.

  The fire has gone out and the wood pile is nearly depleted. Picking up sticks and limbs from outside will do no good, since everything is soaking wet from the rain. I find a few dry boards lying around here and there in the barn. Gathering them, I unfold my Gerber limb saw, cutting them in pieces about a foot long. Using my CRKT folding knife, I proceed to whittle two large handfuls of shavings, then place the boards and shavings by the wood pile.

  With some time to kill, I pull out one of the Baofeng radios and scan the shortwave frequencies. Nothing. I really didn’t expect to hear anything since the range of my unit is very limited, especially with this short antenna. I should have brought the wire antenna. I forgot to repack it before I left. I turn the unit off and check the truck over more closely. The engine cranks well. I check the oil; it’s dirty but the level is ok. I check the water level in the radiator and it’s okay as well. I check the tires. They’re pretty slick. I’d better not go too fast on these things. I search for an owner’s manual in the glove compartment. The only things in there are the registration papers and an insurance card. I don’t know how much gas is in a half tank on this truck or if the gauge is working properly. We’re probably 150-160 miles from Jackson with all the back roads we’re going to be taking. It’s probably not enough gas to make it all the way, but we’ll run across stalled cars along the way. I passed quite a few coming south on AL119. If I had a siphon hose that would be nice, and a fuel can too, but I don’t have those things. I’ll have to figure something out later.

  I pull Jill’s bike from the back and check it out. The metal is shiny in places from the recent scrapes. The handlebars are straight, chain checks okay, and the tires are fine. It’s an older style single speed pedal brake bike, but it’s solid. I bet her legs are sore from pedaling this all day. Jill must have carried her pack in the basket. This is what I’ll use when I go check the tree lines for a water source. I load up my empty plastic bottles, empty stainless steel bottle, then pull my water filter kit out and set it in the basket too. As soon as Jill is awake and able to guard herself, I’m going to look for water.

  For now, I nibble on an energy bar, drink a little more water, and study the GPS route. The route around Montevallo is going to add miles and time. Going through Montevallo simply doesn’t seem like a good idea, especially with it being a college town. I may have to go through Brent. We’re going to play that off the cuff when we get close.

  For tonight there are a few more freeze dried pouches in my pack, but perhaps I should use some of the MREs from the trailer. I pull two out, hoping Jill will like ravioli or Salisbury steak and potatoes.

  The two-way radios have limited range with the short antennas yet work really well for close communications. I get the units and make sure they are set for the same frequency. Doing a push test, they both squeal. I’ll give one to Jill and carry one myself when I go looking for water. Now what else can be done till she wakes? Thinking of nothing at the moment, I sit down close to Jill and using my sleeping bag as a pillow, leaning back against the wall.

  ***

  I hear it again. Something is moving around. I reach for my Glock, but my hand won’t move. I struggle to free my arm, but nothing is holding it. I pull my pistol, but can't find my target. There it is, right in front of me, coming fast. I raise the Glock, but the trigger is stuck. I’m squeezing as hard as I can, and it won’t budge! It's almost on top of me when the trigger releases. The pistol recoils in my hand and I watch the bullet fall straight to the ground at the end of the barrel. Now, it’s upon me! I start to struggle then—my eyes open.

  I look around, Jill is getting a bottle of water from her pack. It was one of those nightmares. I've had them before. I don't know what they mean, or if they mean anything at all, yet they always scare me.

  “Are you okay, John?” Jill asks. “You were kind of twitching there for a minute.”

  I rub my head. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” I glance down at my Glock, reassuring myself. I have fired nearly 15,000 rounds through this pistol, without a single malfunction. Surely it's not going to let me down in my time of need. It hasn't so far.

  It's 3:00 p.m. I clearly fell asleep earlier. “How are you feeling?” I ask Jill. “How’s your head?”

  “My head is fine. My back hurts like crazy and these bruises hurt, but I’m okay. I’m sorry I’ve held us up.”

  “Hey, don't worry about it. You’ve been through a lot. You needed the rest. If you feel up to it, we’ll leave early in the morning. If not, we can wait another day.”

  “In the morning will be great. I'm anxious to get home and check on Lizzy.”

  “John, I'm almost out of water,” Jill says after a few moments. “I don't know how much you have, but I need to refill my bottles today.”

  “I'm in the same boat,” I say. “I'm down to about half in my last quart bottle. When I was moving around outside earlier, I saw some thin tree lines that may have running water. I want to go check them out.”

  “I have a personal water filter and some water treatment tabs,” she says. “We can go check for the water whenever you want.”

  “I think it would be best if you stay here and watch over our stuff and the camp. I’ll take your bike if it's okay, and fill all our bottles. I have a manual filter pump. I should be able to do it in about an hour.”

  “Okay, can you show me how to use one of the rifles? I've never used any like those before. And why not take the truck?”

  “I was thinking of leaving you my carbine. It's a 9mm and uses the same magazines as your Glock 19. The recoil is light and shouldn’t hurt your back if you have to use it. Plus, with the red dot sight, it's easy to aim. I’ll show you how to use it in a minute. I'll take the AK. As far as the truck, the ground may be too soft after the rain and I don’t want to risk getting it stuck.”

  She stands up and gathers her bottles and takes them to the basket on her bike. She looks around and says, “John, what happened to the bodies?”

  “I took them out a ways while you were asleep.”

  “Thanks, I really didn't want to be in here with them any longer. And thanks again, John, for what you did. I know that took a lot of courage. Thank you. Now show me how to use your carbine and go get us some water. I'm getting hungry.”

  I get up and walk over to where she is. While Jill watches, I remove the magazine and eject the chambered cartridge. Moving a little closer, I show her the gun is unloaded. “This is a Keltec Sub2k 9mm carbine. It uses the same magazine as your Glock 19.” I hand her the carbine.

  “I haven’t shot a rifle in a long time. I used to shoot pistols with my dad, but we didn’t shoot a lot of rifles, other than a 22.”

  I show her how to hold the rifle. “Grab the grip with you right hand and use your left hand on the forend. Pull it up close to your shoulder. That’s right. Now look down the barrel. You should see a little red dot.”

  She moves it around a little on her shoulder, then says, “I can’t see the red dot.”

  I move behind h
er and reach over to help position the rifle. We are very close. “Tilt your head around until you…” I freeze for a moment. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I smell her aroma. She doesn’t smell like Jessica McClintock. She smells like sweat. Nonetheless, something stirs deep inside me. In that brief pause I realize I’m standing too damn close! I remove my arm and step to the side a little.

  Jill looks up at me, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

  Having regained myself, I say, “No. I, uh, I think I forgot to turn the sight on.” I step a little more to the side and front, reaching over to turn the sight on. “This is a Burris Fast Fire III micro red dot sight. To turn it on, you push this button on the side. You can also adjust the brightness using this same button. Try it.”

  She works the button. “I see it also turns it off.”

  “Yes it does. Let’s leave it on for now. It’ll turn itself off after a while.”

  She shoulders the weapon. “Yeah, I see it now.”

  “Normally, when using the suppressor, I use sub-sonic ammunition, like what I just took out, but I think it’s best for now to remove the suppressor and use some self-defense rounds. Before we load up, go ahead and take it off safety and pull the trigger.” She does and the snap of the firing pin being hit can be heard. “Now rack the charging handle back. You can use either hand. I prefer to use my left.” I show her where it is located on the bottom side of the stock tube. She does and lets it go. It slams back into place. “Now it’s ready to fire again. Go ahead and fire and recharge.” She does, this time more smoothly. “All right, put it on safe and I’ll remove the suppressor.”

  She does and hands over the rifle. “Why are you changing the ammo and removing the suppressor?”

  “Since we’re going to be apart, I want to be able to hear if you have to use the weapon. With the suppressor on, I might not be able to hear it. The self-defense rounds are more powerful than the sub-sonic ammunition. So, since I’m removing the suppressor, I wanted you to have the more powerful ammo.”