by Hunt, James
“Me three.”
Mary froze, but her heart swelled in her chest. She spun around, finding James standing in the hut, the others clearing out and giving the family a moment to reunite in private. With the light behind James, Mary thought that he might just be a figment of her imagination, but the longer she stared, the more she realized that he was really there.
Before he vanished into smoke, Mary hobbled toward him, moving as fast as her healing body allowed, then hugged him tight. But when he winced, she pulled back, getting a better look at him now that she was closer.
“Oh my God.” Mary gently touched the bruises and cuts along his body. “What happened?”
“It’s over,” James answered. “Banks wiped the rest of them out.”
“Did we lose anyone?”
James nodded. “Ken. He’s gone.”
And while Mary knew that she should have mourned for someone who was more family than friend, she was just thankful that James was alive, and that he was well. And as James walked over to their son, the pair embracing, she believed that they could make it through tomorrow. She touched her stomach and looked down. No matter what happened.
51
One year later
James pounded the last post into the hole and poured the filler dirt to keep it in place. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin, and he wiped it away with his sleeve. The Stetson shielded his face from the sun, but James found himself constantly looking up at the beautiful summer sky.
The past three days had brought constant rain. And while it was needed, it had made work on the ranch uncomfortable for anyone who was working outside. The rain may have been a reprieve from the heat, but James had never minded the sweat.
He rolled out the last bit of fence, then hammered the chained mesh into place on the final post, finishing his last project for the day. He stepped back, planted his fists on his hips, and admired the one hundred yards of new fence on the western perimeter.
It was one of the last projects that James had given himself that marked the end of the repairs from what happened last summer during the EMP. For the most part, life had returned to normal, and the world was slowly transforming back into the independent society that it was before the disaster. There was less death than last summer, less fighting. And for that, James was grateful.
According to the news, there were only a few smaller factions remaining in the U.S., and officials were close to snuffing out the rest of them. Power had been resorted to all major metropolitan areas, and to most rural areas.
And most importantly, James was back in the saddle and working his family’s land once more. It had been a long road to recovery, and even longer to rebuild what had been torched to the ground, but the long journey had been worth it. Never in his life had James been more thankful for the phrase, ‘back to normal.’
After James packed up his gear, he mounted his mare, the horse protesting the added weight with a stomp and whinny.
“I’m still getting back into shape,” James said. “No need to keep reminding me.” He stroked the animal’s neck and it calmed.
James gave her a little nudge with his heels and the pair galloped across the open plains. The wind whipped his face, his sweaty shirt clinging to his body, and he smiled. He had missed this, and not just the riding, but the end of the day. He had worked hard, and waiting back at the house was his reward. He couldn’t wait to see them.
The only thing that remained in the house after the fire was the foundation, and James had built something new. In a way, it was nice to have such a fresh start, and he was glad to have family and friends to start over with.
James stayed in the barn for a little while longer, finishing up with the animal, reflecting on how the world had pulled itself out.
And he didn’t take that lightly, because he still remembered what happened. The nightmares came every night. He saw the dead bodies in San Antonio. He saw Luis. He saw Nolan, who passed away shortly after Khan and his people were defeated.
Those images replayed in his head every night like a highlight reel. But he bore it and pushed through, because as horrific as those events were, and how terrible it was to have experienced all of those atrocities, it reminded him of what was important and to cherish every day. Because the world could always fall into despair again. But just like before, he’d be ready.
Once the horse finished its feed, James removed the bag and shut the stall doors. He then headed to the house, which had transformed into a one-story structure. It was Mary’s idea. She wanted to make it easier for them to get around once they were old and grey.
But James still made sure that it had a walk-around porch, and he entered through the back door where there was still a kitchen. And while the paint, the walls, the rooms, the whole house had changed, the people in it hadn’t changed at all.
“Hey, Dad.” Jake looked up from his book at the kitchen table, smiling. “How’d it go today?”
James walked over and kissed the top of his son’s head. “It was great. Where’s Mom?”
“Here.” Mary entered, holding their three-month-old baby Rosie in her arms, her cheeks red from crying. “Someone didn’t want to take a nap today, so she’s a little cranky.”
James smiled, tickling Rosie’s toes, and then picked her up from Mary’s arms, planting a kiss on each cheek before leaning over to kiss Mary.
“Whew,” Mary said, leaning back. “You stink.”
“Are you sure it’s me?” James lifted Rosie and sniffed her butt, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s me.” He smiled, and Mary slapped his arm playfully while Rosie squirmed.
“Zi’s coming by for dinner with Banks,” Mary said, grabbing meat out of the fridge. “Should be here in a few hours. I was thinking we could…”
James listened to his wife as he held Rosie, then looked back to Jake who was still buried in his book, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried. Because this was what a good life looked like. He was sure of it. And he was so glad that Rosie had come into the picture, their little, completely healthy, baby girl.
James had always believed in second chances, because he knew people normally didn’t do things right the first time. And while he was ready to die that day last year when he stayed behind and faced the wrath of the devil’s army that knocked down his front door, he couldn’t imagine missing this life.
“Hey,” Mary said, pointing a spatula at him. “Are you listening?”
James smiled. “Yes. Everything sounds perfect.”