Jason rolled back down slope and then ran crouching past the man’s position to approach him from behind. He moved more quickly this time, though still using the trees for cover. At last he could see the man slumped over his rifle. Two of Jason’s shots had hit him, one below his face and one in his upper side. He was dead and never saw his executioner.
Now he went back into stealth mode, moving towards the truck, looking for the second shooter in the woods. He found him gravely wounded and very weak. The bullet had torn into his shoulder and he was bleeding profusely. His weapon was five feet away from him but he made no attempt to reach for it as Jason approached. Jason looked at the rifle. It was Sam’s 30-30.
He picked it up and pointed it at the man, “this is for Sam,” he said, and he shot him in the other shoulder. At this close range the bullet tore into his shoulder, dislocating it and ripping it open.
The man cried out. “Just wanted you to feel the bite from the gun of the man you killed.” Jason said. The man glowered at Jason, unable to move with both arms torn. “You did evil things to my friends and now I’m sending you to hell.” Jason’s next shot was between the eyes.
He found two more men alive near the truck and dispatched them with their own weapons. Then he collected the weapons and ammunition from the bodies before searching the truck where he found more. Along with Sam’s 30-30, Jason kept two AR15 rifles and all the ammunition. They fired a .223 round, the same as his Ruger. They were good rifles. He thought it a good idea to have the back-up weapons and the ammunition was priceless. He also took a couple of 9mm pistols and all the 9mm ammunition he could find. Next, Jason maneuvered the truck crosswise in the roadbed to create a roadblock for any other vehicles trying to drive further up the mountain.
If they come back, this will slow or stop them. He opened the hood and took out the distributor cap and rotor and flung them into the woods. Jason had no use for a pickup truck where he was going. He paused to survey the scene. There were bodies around the truck, against the cliff and in the woods. A strong smell of gunpowder still hung in the air.
It will smell worse later. Jason, drenched in sweat, walked back to where he had laid Judy. He still couldn’t think of her as ‘Judy’s body’. I made them pay for what they did, Judy. Not all of them but as many as I could. He sat down next to her. As the adrenaline left his system his body began to relax.
Chapter 12
Sometime later Jason awoke with a start. He listened carefully but heard no unusual sounds. He drank the last of his water. He knew now what he had to do; take Judy to her husband. He gently tied some cords around the blankets wrapped around her. After reloading the magazines, he shouldered his rifle, picked Judy up and set out again towards the farmhouse. Jason cut across the fields making a direct line towards the house. In about three hours he was at the last tree line, where he had waited the prior day. It seemed incredible that it had only been yesterday. There was no sign of anyone at the farm and after watching for some long minutes, he approached the farmhouse. He went in the back door and laid Judy on the kitchen table. Then he dragged Sam’s body into the kitchen and, with some effort, hoisted him onto the kitchen table.
At first Jason didn’t know what else to do. After thinking a bit, he went upstairs and found the linen closet and took two sheets. Then he went to work wrapping the bodies. He carefully crossed their hands on their breasts and folded the sheets over them, with their heads exposed. Then he went back upstairs to look for some personal items. It seemed fitting to place them with their bodies. A Bible, a wedding picture, Sam’s hunting knife, some jewelry and a cross; Jason placed them on the table with the bodies.
This is their house, this is their burial place, let this be their funeral pyre.
His earlier thoughts about staying on the farm were driven by Sam and Judy—the sense of family he found with them. Now without them, it was just another abandoned and looted farmhouse. He needed to find something more remote. He went about collecting tinder and placed piles of it throughout the house, starting under the kitchen table.
Goodbye Sam and Judy. You were good people. You gave me shelter, encouragement and guidance and sent me out with kindness to follow my own path. He reflected on the time he spent with them. They were people who could have made this new reality more civilized, maybe better than before. They were brought down by the forces of barbarism that had been unleashed and it was such a loss…tears, again, came to Jason’s eyes.
When the power went out, the world as everyone knew it, interdependent with few people self-reliant, or even knowing what it meant to be self-reliant, changed. And three types of people emerged. First were the outlaws and barbarians, who society had always kept in check, if not fully under control. They emerged with power because they were used to living outside the law and exploiting opportunities. They were not going to build anything good, being focused on exploitation and greed. They were the predators. Then were the power manipulators; those who had some of the same drives as the outlaws, but worked within the system. This group organized the citizenry and, with no authority to restrain them, tended towards dictatorial control. Jason had seen this happening in Hillsboro in an alliance of the police leadership, some politicians and the criminal elements. Then there were the citizens; the mass of the people who just wanted order and would support anyone who brought order and took care of them—the sheep.
But Sam and Judy didn’t seem to fit into any of these groups and neither did he, Jason thought. Maybe that was why they had to separate themselves from the rest. Sam and Judy didn’t make it, but Jason vowed he would, for himself and for his two friends. Maybe someday like-minded, self-reliant people, the protectors, would come together and demand a better future…maybe.
He took some diesel fuel and doused the tinder and went through the house lighting it. When the piles were all lit, he left the house and started back through the fields to his camp near the ridge. After gaining some elevation, he turned to look back and saw, with satisfaction, the house, now fully ablaze. It was a magnificent funeral pyre for a magnificent couple. Then he turned and set his face to the north and began hiking.
Book II: The Family
Chapter 1
Jason hiked for two weeks, putting multiple ridges and miles between him and the Miller farm. The travois was working better, though still with some difficulty when the path got too rocky. The extra weapons and ammunition slowed him, but he hiked on, committed to not abandoning those precious assets. He settled into a routine of hiking until the afternoon and then stopping with enough time to eat and make a shelter to sleep.
He now felt more in tune with the forest, making good miles when he was on a trail. And when he didn’t have a good trail, he accepted his situation and moved more slowly. He stopped resisting the forest, but adjusted to whatever it presented. This acclimation enabled Jason to see more detail in his surroundings; the hints of game trails where one could set snares, the larger openings that aided one’s passage through underbrush, the best way around rock fields. He was now expending his energy in a more efficient manner, not trying to force himself through every obstacle. He had a map of the region and tried to keep his position marked. The further he went, the less accurate this became, but the map still gave him an overall indication of his progression into the remote parts of the forest.
He took more time to make a shelter when he stopped. He would cut a straight pole, lay one end in a tree notch four or five feet up and the other on the ground. Next he would create a tent shape with branches from the ridge pole to the ground. He would pile leaves and debris from the forest floor on the sides and then weave in more branches to hold the filler. All sides would be enclosed except for a small opening at one end. He insulated the floor with leaves. On top of everything he would lay his tarp and the shelter would then be ready for sleeping. It was quite cozy and, when properly constructed, surprisingly rain proof. If he stopped where a campfire could not easily be seen, he would start one in the evening and enjoy a warm meal an
d the cheer a fire brings to the dark solitude. On many warmer nights, he would string his cover tarp from a ridge pole, lay down a ground cloth, and put out his sleeping bag. Every few days he stayed encamped and hunted for food, setting snares and gathering what edible plants he could find. His plant guide book got a lot of use; he didn’t want to poison himself.
When he reached open fields, natural or left over from earlier farming, he stopped to harvest the wood sorrel, kudzu, dandelion and chicory plants he could find. The wood sorrel could be eaten raw. The entire kudzu plant was edible and he would make hot drinks later that evening from the dandelion or chicory he found. Occasionally he would come across clusters of ramps or wild onions and collect as many as he could carry. Marshy areas provided a treasure store of plants to harvest; cattails, the katniss plant and sometimes water lilies.
Since it was still early in the season, Jason could feast on the fiddle head shoots of ferns which he found in the shadier parts of the forest. The berries would have to wait until high summer, but Jason noted their abundance, along with wild grapes, at the edges of fields. For one who knew where to look, the forests and fields provided a rich store of food to balance a diet of game meat.
Jason generally awoke with the birds, just before first light. He would lie still and listen, sniffing the air, testing to see what the day might offer. Then, stretching and limbering his stiff muscles, he slowly got going. If he had made a fire the night before it was a simple task to restart it, putting tinder on the banked embers. Sometimes he treated himself to a warm wash before breaking camp and loading his gear for the day’s trek. Jason felt more at home now, but the solitude bore down on him relentlessly. Often he noticed that he was talking to himself.
His numbed state of mind gradually eased through the routine of hiking and camping. Nights, though, often found him in agony. He began to blame himself for Sam and Judy’s deaths.
If I had left one day later they might still be alive.
He couldn’t shake the thought. The raiding gang would have found themselves in a crossfire between Sam in the house and Jason in the barn. They might have won the battle. The thought became ever more firm in Jason’s mind, increasing his guilt about leaving. He had seen his dad leave and he had left Hillsboro and now Sam and Judy. Had he become that kind of a man…like his dad? The thought ate away at him.
Tears came as the human loss pressed down on him—Maggie, and Sam and Judy. More and more he focused on trying to imagine what he was searching for—shelter, permanent shelter—trying to visualize it. But something else was needed. After Sam and Judy, Jason understood how hard it was going to be to live alone until society got sorted out, if ever. He felt confident that he could master food and shelter, but the companionship and satisfaction he had experienced working with the Millers—being helpful, being part of a team—made him realize how precious that relationship was—like family in so many ways.
Can’t dwell on that. It’ll only make it harder. I’ve made my bed. Now I must lie in it. He knew he wouldn’t have lasted in town. He had seen the militia taking everyone’s freedom away in the name of order and safety. It was inevitable that he would have clashed with them. There was order in town, but with strict control. Those in charge wanted to know where you lived, what you did to survive, where you found food. The questions had grown increasingly aggressive and came from the assumption that, nine months after the EMP attack, you were either under the town’s jurisdiction and control or you were an outlaw, scavenging and looting. The concept of a self-sufficient person was not part of the thinking.
But this being alone part is going to be damned hard. He couldn’t shake feelings of dread about the loneliness that haunted him, feelings that were outside of his woodsman skills, untouched by his ability to survive in the woods.
One day Jason came across a small deer herd. They had not been hunted, this far into the mountains, so they were not skittish. Killing a deer could give him a good meat supply. It would free him for a few weeks of setting snares. The extra time could be spent locating long term shelter. He’d have to smoke the meat to use it over time which worried him. Smoking meant fire, smoke and smell, all of which would advertise his location, to predators as well as humans. But it was a chance he felt he had to take.
In preparation he built a smoker. Away from his camp, he made a tall cone of straight poles surrounding a fire pit. He tied cross poles on which to hang the meat and covered the structure with branches to keep in the smoke. Then he was ready to hunt. Two days passed and the deer didn’t show.
Did they read his thoughts? What the hell?
But on the third day, the deer showed up and Jason took one. He field dressed it well away from his camp and smoking area, then, back at the smoker he quickly butchered the carcass, cutting the meat into strips and setting them on the poles. The smoke was filled with a rich aroma, inviting and stimulating. It was quite a signal to all the animals in the forest. Jason stayed on high alert, hoping he would not have to defend his catch from bears or worse.
He kept the meat smoking for twelve hours, feeding the fire with wet wood and leaves. Then he cut the meat into smaller pieces and carefully wrapped them in ramp leaves he had collected. It was not ideal, but it was the best he could do. While the smoking was going on, Jason feasted on venison steaks. He ate heavily for a couple of days, then wrapped the leaf packages in a tarp, stuffed them into his pack and headed off again.
He was now going to explore the valleys that spread out from the side of the ridge he was on. It was time to find a permanent place to stay. It was the beginning of summer and he had much to do to get ready for winter. With his smoked meat and his gear packed, he set out.
Chapter 2
By the third day, Jason had worked his way further north and then crossed over a ridge to the west of his smoking camp. From this ridge he spied a fort shaped valley through his binoculars. The valley was enclosed by ridges on all sides. To the south the rise was gentler. The floor of the valley was marked by fields, now lying fallow. Numerous small creeks meandered through the valley floor, draining the ridges and feeding into a stream that had cut its way through the southern wall of the valley to join a larger river. A narrow macadam road followed the path of the valley stream through the southern embankment, ending in a single lane, iron truss bridge. From the narrow gorge to the south, the road wound up the valley. There were no signs of movement on it. The roofs of the few farm houses he could see were set quite apart from one another. From his vantage point, Jason could not tell if they were inhabited or not. He moved north, on the eastern side of the valley, keeping to higher elevations.
He worked his way past two farmhouses near the valley entrance. The grounds looked overgrown, the barn doors were open, there seemed to be no signs of habitation. They offered possibilities for shelter, but were too close to the road and bridge for Jason’s comfort. Half way up the valley he spied a farmhouse that looked promising. It was set back further from the valley road on a cleared shoulder of the hill. A strip of woods screened the house from the road. Below the woods the slope flattened into fields bordering the road. The driveway went gently uphill before a making a switchback to cross a steeper grade then arriving at the flat area in front of the house. The house was on the eastern slope, facing south, looking down the valley, with a view across the valley to the western ridge. There was a barn on the west side of the house, closer to the tree line. Two fields stretched out behind the house to the north separated by a row of brush and trees. East of the yard stood the overgrown remains of an old apple orchard. It ran uphill towards the forest; the trees looked to be dying and probably bore little fruit.
The house and its position in the valley seemed ideal. It was shielded from the road, yet with a good view of the valley. It was late and the house was still quite far so he camped on the ridge that night. He lit no fire.
The next morning Jason found a closer vantage point providing a good view of the farmhouse. He wanted to observe it before approaching. A
stand of rhododendron bushes shielded him. Lying there undetected, he settled down to watch.
It wasn’t long before he saw a woman emerge from the house. Jason experienced a confusing surge of emotions. The house was not empty and that was a problem for him to use the place for shelter. But seeing another person made him realized how much he missed human company. The memories from his time with Sam and Judy came rushing back. A moment later two more figures emerged from the house. Through his field glasses, Jason could see they were girls in their teenage years. His mind raced; were they alone?
He watched; no one else emerged. The three females went out into the field. They looked like they were gathering what they could from the growth left over from last year’s planting. They moved slowly and after an hour, drifted, one by one, back into the house with what they had collected. Later the woman went out to the well pump in the front yard and pumped some water into a jug. She pumped slowly, tiredly it seemed to Jason. Then she went back in. Soon smoke arose from the chimney.
They must be cooking what they’ve gathered.
Jason crawled back into the trees and sat quietly for a long time to think.
This won’t work. There has to be a man somewhere and he’ll shoot without warning to protect his family. I’ve got to move on.
But he couldn’t leave. Something kept him there. It was more than the valley. It was certainly well set up in its geography. Memories of the violent encounters he experienced flooded back. This valley looked promising with its isolation and protection by the ridges. But something more drew him. He decided to take some time to watch and see what else happened at the farmhouse before moving on.
After the Fall: Jason's Tale Page 8