After the Fall: Jason's Tale

by David E. Nees

  “As part of my remodeling scheme, I also want to cut a hole in your roof,” he continued.

  “What? Are you kidding?” she asked in surprise. Jason just looked at her. “You’re not kidding. Please tell me why,” she continued.

  “It’s to give us a lookout position and a dominant firing platform. Think of it as a widow’s walk.” As soon as he used the phrase, he was sorry.

  Anne looked at him sharply. “What exactly is a ‘widow’s walk’?” she said with an edge in her voice.

  “It’s a high parapet or standing space on a house, sometimes up on the roof. It was the place where wives looked out to sea, watching for their sailing husbands to return from their voyages. It’s a bad choice of words; I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Anne replied. “I shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

  The evening grew still and the light faded on the eastern slopes as they continued to talk quietly about changes to the farm.

  “I know you are serious about protecting us,” Anne said, “and I appreciate it. Thank you.” She stood up, then bent down to give him a kiss on his forehead and went inside.

  Jason sat for some time as the evening darkened savoring the kiss, digesting it, his mind swirling around it, replaying the moment over and over. A rush of happiness began to flow over him. Finally he stood up.

  Get a grip. You’ve got work to do. Get some sleep. He opened the door to the house and shouted out, “Good night everyone!” The good nights came back from various parts of the house and Jason walked off to the barn smiling.

  Chapter 7

  Two days later he hiked over the ridge and down to the pond where he had previously taken the ducks. On the way he heard a shot from the valley floor. He changed direction and approached from the south end of the pond, keeping to the willows and brush bordering the water. The shot came from the other end of the pond. He worked his way through the dense cover, moving towards the source of the report. He was careful, not hurrying; there was cover in the willow thicket, but no protection from gunfire. Near the head of the pond he saw an old man in the clearing bent over, gutting a pig. He was intensely focused on his work. When Jason stepped from the thicket, the old man jerked his head up and turned towards him, his face set in an angry scowl, his eyes fierce. He started toward his rifle lying in the grass.

  “Don’t.” Jason said. He had his rifle at the ready.

  The man stopped. He slowly straightened up. After a moment of studying Jason, he demanded, “Who are you and what’re you doin’ here?”

  “I could ask you the same,” Jason responded. He couldn’t tell how old the man was. He was thin with stooped shoulders, but his body exuded a wiry strength. He wore loose, rough work clothes and his hands were large and calloused, telling of a life of hard, physical work. From under a mop of graying hair he eyed Jason with dark, suspicious eyes set in a leathery face marked in a permanent scowl.

  “I asked you a question. You’re trespassin’,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  “What do you mean trespassing? The national forest starts on the ridge above us and runs through this valley.”

  “You can call it what you want. These are my woods, have been for generations.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Jason asked.

  “You’re the trespasser. Who are you?” The old man was now shouting.

  The conversation was not going anywhere so he answered, “My name is Jason. I’m staying at the Whitman’s farm in the valley to the west.” He nodded towards the ridge.

  “So you’re the new man she’s got. I heard about you. Well, you’re not welcome here. This is my pond, my pigs, my woods.”

  “Again, these woods don’t belong to you.”

  The old man continued as if not hearing, “I figure you’re here to poach my game. This is how I feed my family. You could be shot for poaching.”

  “There’s plenty of game to go around, and it doesn’t all belong to you.”

  “There ain’t with strangers like you coming into the valley. Go back where you came from. You don’t belong here.” The man’s anger seemed to be rising again.

  Jason’s mind raced. Got to calm things down. “Look, I don’t want to go to war with you. I’m trying to help the family survive. I need to hunt, same as you.”

  “Where’d you come from?” the man asked.

  “Hillsboro.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “It’s corrupt in Hillsboro. And they don’t have enough food. I figured I’d strike out on my own.”

  “So you going to come out to my woods and think you’ll be just fine?”

  “Didn’t plan on being here, but when I came to the Whitman farm I realized they needed help…and I needed a roof over my head.”

  “We don’t take to strangers coming into the valley, especially city people from Hillsboro. We take care of ourselves here.”

  “I’m not like others in Hillsboro. And it didn’t seem like the Whitmans were getting much help when I came along.”

  The old man stared at him for some time, measuring him.

  “What’s your name?” Jason asked again.

  “Name’s Turner.”

  “Mr. Turner, it’s good to meet another person from the valley.”

  “I’m warning you to stay out of my way. I don’t want to ever see you on the ridge above my farm. Don’t want anyone spying on me. You hear me?”

  “I hear you. I’ll stay away from your farm and the ridge.”

  “See that you do. And stay away from my pigs.” And with that he turned back to gutting the pig.

  Jason said goodbye and set off for the ridge. There would be no pigs today. He resolved to be more careful when hunting in the woods. On returning to the farm, he related the incident to Anne.

  “He’s pretty much a recluse. I’m surprised he spoke that many words to you.” She said.

  “Better than shooting me.”

  As they were talking, Catherine came in. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Mr. Turner. Jason ran into him at the pond over the ridge,” Anne said.

  “I’ll bet that didn’t go well,” Catherine said.

  “It went well enough that we didn’t try to shoot each other. He seems to think the whole ridge and pond in the valley to the east belong to him. He said it’s been in his family for generations.”

  “I think it was, years ago,” replied Anne. “He’s complained about the government taking it away to create the national forest for years.”

  “I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it,” Catherine said.

  “Well, he doesn’t like me being here. He thinks I’m poaching his game.”

  “That could be a problem,” Anne said.

  “I think we reached an agreement. Nothing was said, but he seemed to drop the issue after telling me to stay off the ridge behind his house. Maybe he realizes that we all need to eat.”

  “That’s probably as close to acceptance as you will get,” Anne said.

  “If he’s typical, no wonder the valley has never organized,” Jason said.

  “He’s more reclusive than the others. The rest are more polite, but just as independent.”

  “Just be careful of him…and Billy. They both have a mean streak in them,” Catherine said.

  Anne then spoke up. “I think it is time for you to meet everyone in the valley since you have already met the most reclusive resident.”

  Everyone turned to her. “So how do we do that?” Sarah asked.

  “Why, we just pack some food and hike to the neighbors.”

  “We can’t do that in one day,” Catherine said.

  “We’ll rely on other’s hospitality to put us up for the night. I’m guessing we can do the trip in two days. It will be a fun outing. Let’s go tomorrow. It’s time we introduced Jason to the valley.” Anne’s excited tone left no room for discussion.

  The next morning, they set out with backpacks full. Jason carried his 9mm and his Ruger carbine. They walked past the Turner f
arm. The morning was cool and everyone wore a jacket or sweater. The next farm was abandoned, its owners having gone to Clifton Furnace, hoping to get to Wilmington where they had relatives. The property beyond it belonged to Tom and Betty Walsh. They moved into the valley fifteen years ago. Tom was a Vietnam veteran. When he retired from his company in Charlotte, he and Betty moved into the valley. Their kids were grown and had left years ago. Tom was built like a fire plug, strong and solid. He had a ruddy complexion and an open, friendly face. Betty was a big boned woman who like the outdoors and enjoyed the farming and hunting with her husband. They were down to earth. You knew right away where you stood with them.

  They were greeted as they approached the front porch. After introductions everyone sat down outside. The sweaters and jackets were shed as the day warmed.

  “So you were out on your own, in the forest for weeks?” Tom asked after hearing Jason’s story about how he came to the valley. “Anne, what possessed you to take a chance on him? I imagine he was not a pretty sight when he showed up.”

  Betty jabbed her husband in the ribs. “That’s not very polite. And, besides, it’s none of our business.”

  “Tom is right. His appearance did give me some reservation. But we were out of food and my instinct told me he was a good man, which, thankfully, turned out to be the case.” She smiled at Jason.

  “I was actually on my own for about four months total. I ran into some bad people along the way. That’s what I was getting away from.” He paused, then continued, “Anne tells me that no one in the valley is interested in forming a group for protection.” Jason said.

  “Against who or what?” Betty asked.

  “Well, against the kind of people I ran into.” Jason replied.

  “We talked about it, but we’re so remote, we figure the odds are pretty low and didn’t warrant the work. Besides, how would we protect the valley against gangs?” Tom responded.

  “I’m not sure, but Anne’s farm is the first one you come to as you go up the valley, so I figure we need to be ready. We don’t have the luxury of any occupied farms between us and the valley entrance.”

  Tom thought about that comment for a moment, then replied, “I don’t think the rest of us are relying on Anne’s place to be our buffer. We just don’t see the threat being significant.”

  “Maybe not, but the downside could be fatal. I’ve seen it in action. Even with a low probability, I want to be prepared.”

  Tom shrugged as if to indicate they would agree to disagree. The conversation meandered for another hour when Anne said, “We should get moving, I want Jason to meet everyone and there is a lot of walking left to do.”

  An hour later they were at the house belonging to Andy and Claire Nolan. Andy was a round, pudgy man with a cautious face. His face had the look of a person evaluating something and trying to make up his mind. Clair looked like a grandmother. If you imagined one, she would be what came to your mind’s eye. They were polite but quiet. They wanted to know all about Jason’s adventures and what was going on in Hillsboro but didn’t say much about themselves and how they were managing after the EMP attack. They seemed to be getting along just fine, looking well kept and well fed. The conversation was polite, friendly, but didn’t seem to penetrate the polite screen put up by the couple. Their visit was shorter than at the Walsh’s and so Jason and the family said goodbye and set out to reach the last farm before evening.

  Anne hoped that John and Natalie Sands would invite them stay the night. John was an architect and had moved into the valley five years ago. He had renovated the old farmhouse, making it a showcase of his skills. As they approached the farm, Jason saw the results of John’s design and renovation work on the building. A new wing had been added with large glass windows. It formed the base of an upper deck that gave a stunning view of the valley from where the house sat. All the windows had been upgraded, some standing six feet tall, mirroring the windows of the last century before air conditioning. The front porch was wrapped around the left side of the house to counter balance the wing on the other side. The changes gave the old farmhouse a dramatic look without completely abandoning its classic roots.

  John and Natalie were in their late thirties, similar in age to Jason and Anne. They had one daughter, Lisa, who was seven years old. Both adults were excited to receive them and, like the others, interested in Jason’s story—his trek and how he had arrived in the valley. They were a handsome couple. John had a full beard, neatly trimmed and Natalie had long, dark hair framing a thin, regal face. He looked almost professorial and Natalie glowed with a dark, exotic beauty. They would have looked at home on the cover of a magazine: the perfect professional couple with a lovely daughter and an award-winning house in the country.

  “What brought you all the way out here?” Jason asked after they settled down in the living room. Lisa had taken the girls off show them her room and all her toys.

  “With my work, I can live about anywhere. When we found this place we fell in love with it…and I saw what could be done with the house. It became my calling card. I put all the images of its renovation and re-design on my website.”

  “How are you getting along now, after the EMP attack?” Jason asked.

  “We always kept a large supply of dry and canned goods, since we live so far out. And Natalie loves to garden. The vegetable garden was a hobby, now it’s an important part of our daily routine.” John said. “Neither of us shoots but Tom showed me how to set snares and traps…and we catch fish from the stream. We’ll trade vegetables for some meat occasionally.”

  Jason sensed that John and Natalie expected the power to come back on soon even though it had been almost a year.

  “We have solar to power our water pump and lights and we heat the house with passive solar and a wood stove.”

  The visit was comfortable; one almost could forget that the EMP attack had happened and that life had changed in a fundamental way. The electric lights, though few in number, were a delight to Sarah and Catherine. They ate a modest dinner of vegetable soup and corn bread and later, bedded down in the guest room.

  Early the next morning, after some tea and more corn bread, they started the long hike home. The return hike was easier, all slightly downhill; they walked in the growing heat of the day. Distracted by small discoveries along the road, the girls sometimes ran ahead or lagged behind the steady pace of Jason and Anne. The two spoke infrequently, enjoying the silence and peace of the day together. Occasionally Anne would grab Jason’s arm to point out a bird or some other item of beauty that caught her eye. Jason soaked up the pleasure of the day: the sun shining; this woman beside him, full of her enthusiasm for the beauty around them; the girls playing with one another, enjoying this simple outing. He hoped it could continue forever.

  Chapter 8

  The four men hiking west on the bark road made it over the mountain ridge and into the valley. They stopped at the first farmhouse, abandoned for almost a year now. The beds were a pleasant change from sleeping on the ground, but there was little else for them to find.

  After a rest and scouring the house for supplies, they hiked north to the next farm. This one was also long abandoned. They proceeded to scavenge for what little there was left. When that meager supply ran out, they got ready to hike north and explore more of the valley. They had seen smoke in that direction. It held the promise of food and other resources. They were all armed and figured if they didn’t get handouts, they could take what they wanted. They were willing to steal as well as scavenge.

  The next day Jason was on the roof planning the shooting platform. Being up high, he took time to carefully scan his surroundings, and spied some smoke to the south seeming to come from one of the abandoned farms. He watched for some time until Anne called out, “what are you doing?”

  “Anne, didn’t you tell me the two farms to the south were abandoned?”

  “Yes, they’ve been empty for almost a year now. We saw them leave to go to Clifton Furnace.”

 
; “Well, there’s smoke, and it seems to be coming from one of those farms.” Dead silence below. “I’m watching to see what else I can figure out.”

  After another ten minutes, he came down. Anne and the girls were waiting for him with anxious looks on their faces. Jason explained again about roving gangs, especially in the more populated areas, leaving out the more gruesome descriptions of their behavior.

  “One of these gangs may have entered the valley. We have to assume they are dangerous and up to no good. We also have to assume they will come this way so we need to get ready for them.”

  “What do we do?” Sarah asked, in a frightened voice.

  “First, be brave. We’ll be ready and they won’t expect that, so it gives us an advantage—an advantage I will use to our benefit. When they get here, all three of you will stay inside. Do not go outside of the house. Anne, you take the 12 gauge pump and shoot anyone coming into the house. Catherine, you take the 20 gauge and use it as back up, and Sarah, you’ll have the .22 caliber rifle.” Jason proceeded to show Anne and the girls how to use the weapons in close quarters. “When they arrive I’m going to be outside so I can ambush them before they rush the house.”

  “Why do we have to fight them? Can’t we just give them some food and tell them to go away? Let them know we’re armed?” Sarah asked.

  “I wish that would work,” replied Jason. “They’re going to assume we have lots of resources to protect. They might leave, but they would come back, forewarned and more dangerous. Believe me I’ve had experience with this type. We don’t want to give them a chance.” Sarah looked doubtful. “If it will make you feel better, they will probably show their true intentions before we have to act. Now let’s get ready.”

  “When will they come?” Catherine asked.

  “Not sure, but if there was not much in those farmhouses they won’t be long in coming. We’ll set up watch from the roof. They’ll either come up the road or through the fields. They won’t come from the ridge above us. The going is too rough there. That will be good for us. We’ll either have equal ground or the high ground.”