After the Fall: Jason's Tale (25 page)

Late in February, the family woke up to a cow bell ringing
down at the road. Jason hurriedly got dressed, grabbed his rifle and pistol and
went down to see what was going on. Catherine followed him. At the end of the
driveway, they found Billy looking frantic. He was obviously distressed but
feared to come onto the property.

“Can you come and help?” he asked in a desperate voice.
“It’s Pa. He’s in a bad way. He’s really sick.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Jason asked.

“He’s peein’ blood and hasn’t eaten for days. He’s getting
weaker. I don’t know what to do,” Billy said.

Claire, who had moved in to help Billy after her husband had
been killed, had returned to her house months ago when Ray’s wound stabilized.
He had progressed to moving around the house and Billy had taken over caring
for his dad. Catherine was shocked not realizing Billy could show such emotion.

“Come up to the house. I’ll get some things and we’ll go
back together.” Jason said.

They rushed back up the hill to the house. Anne and Sarah
were at the door. When Sarah saw Billy coming, she disappeared inside. Jason
told Anne what was happening and she went to gather the few medical supplies
they had. After a pause to think about it, sympathy opened her heart and she
took the precious bottle of pain pills that she kept stashed away. Catherine
offered to go with Jason, but Anne insisted that she be the one. She was more
experienced at nursing the sick and injured, and she guessed Ray’s problems
were from his injuries, not from any sickness. They drove off in the pickup
with Billy between them.

Billy’s dad was in a bad way. His wound had re-opened. Jason
suspected internal bleeding as well. Ray also seemed to be suffering from
malnutrition and probably too much alcohol. He was emaciated and not fully
cognitive. There didn’t seem to be much they could do. Anne tried to get some
fluids into the old man with only a little success. He was in a great deal of
pain and cried out when they tried to prop him up. He kept fading in and out of
lucidity. When he focused on Anne, he asked her how her husband was doing and
mentioned the girls as if they were still little. Anne got two pain pills into
him with a little water. In a few minutes he relaxed and went to sleep. Then
the three of them went downstairs to the kitchen.

The house was a mess. Most of the rooms were closed off;
Anne didn’t even want to see what shape they might be in. The kitchen, pantry
and hallways were filthy.

“Thanks for giving Pa something to let him sleep. He’s been
cryin’ out. It hurts I can’t help him.” Billy’s concern showed a side of him
that neither Anne nor Jason had ever noticed.

“Do you have any food in the house?” Anne asked.

“A little, most things have run out,” he replied.

“Is the well still working?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. It froze up in the last cold spell and now it don’t
pump so good, but I get water out of it. I can always go down to the creek.”

“You know what foods to forage for in the woods, don’t you?”

“Some…berries and things,” Billy replied, “but there ain’t
much this time of year.”

Then Jason asked Billy about his weapons for hunting.

“I run out of shotgun shells. Makes it harder. The 30-06 you
gave me is a whole lot better than my old one. I got a deer with it a month
ago. Been eating off that, but I can’t get Pa to eat.”

Anne took out some food she had brought along and they ate
in silence. “You know Billy we cannot fix your father. He needs a hospital and
real doctors. Even then he might not make it. We can only make him
comfortable.” She put her hand over his, “You know he’s dying.”

Billy stared hard at her. “Yeah, I guess I know it,” he
said. “Don’t know what I’ll do if he’s gone. Don’t know how I’ll get along.”

“You’ll do all right. You’ve managed pretty well without
much help so far,” Anne said in a motherly tone.

“I’ll be all alone…” Billy’s voice trailed off.

Jason felt a sudden surge of pity for Billy; Billy the
peeping tom, the hillbilly redneck that he threatened to shoot on sight five
months ago. Anne’s face showed she felt the same.

She cleaned and dressed Ray’s wound and gave Billy two more
pain tablets. “Use them only for the worst of the pain. It’s all I can spare.
Try to keep him hydrated—keep getting him to drink some water. We’ll be back in
two days to check on him.”

“Thanks,” Billy said with sincerity. It was not a word he
was familiar with. It was rarely used around his house and never with
outsiders.

Two days later, as promised, Anne and Jason were back. Billy
seemed surprised to see them. He didn’t expect people to keep their promises.
Anne immediately went to Billy’s dad. He was running a fever and his breathing
was rapid and shallow. His heart beat was irregular and faint. She didn’t think
he had much time left. She set about washing him and cooling him down with wet
towels. It had a soothing effect on the old man. Now they could only wait. Both
Jason and Anne felt that death would not be long in coming and, if possible,
they wanted to be there with Billy when it came.

Billy sat without moving. The scowl that was beginning to be
etched on his face was now gone, replaced by a sad expression. His whole body
mirrored his face. The angry attitude had disappeared with this crisis of
losing his last family member. He now needed people in a way he had never felt
before and here were people he had mistreated, helping him without reservation.
His life was shifting under him like the ground in an earthquake.

Billy and his old man had just continued their mountain ways
after the EMP attack without thinking much about the future. From what anyone
could tell, Billy had no ambitions. Ray hadn’t made any plans as supplies ran
down. They lived a lifestyle close enough to a subsistence level that they
didn’t experience the shocking disruptions felt by urban people. The biggest
change for them was the loss of moonshine customers and the money they brought
in. That money went to buy food and the seed they used to grow the corn for the
mash. They kept at the business, or to be precise, Billy kept at the still, as
his dad began to drink what they couldn’t sell. Food dwindled but there was
enough with the hunting and trapping that they survived. Now Billy was facing
the end of that long, gradual decline. The anger he carried for so long, the
chip on his shoulder, fell away as he faced his need for others.

They kept watch through the night and into the next
afternoon. Near dusk, the old man woke up and looked around the room. “Becka,
that you?” he rasped, mistaking Anne for his long dead wife, Rebecca.

Anne gently replied, “Yes, it is me.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I miss you. I drink too much when
you’re gone,” he said with a weak voice. He looked around, then called out,
“Billy, come here.”

“I’m here, Pa,” Billy replied, moving closer to his dad so
he could see him.

The old man focused on him and said in a surprisingly clear
voice, “You’re a good boy. You done good by me. Your ma loves you…and I love
you.” He sank back in the bed.

Tears welled up in Billy’s eyes. Anne’s eyes grew moist.
They sat in silence for some time. Ray just laid there, his breathing raspy and
irregular. What was there to say? There was no fixing of things. They were
there to keep the dying company.

Ray lay still for hours, semi-conscious. Anne began to speak
softly to him about how much he and his wife had helped her. She encouraged
Billy to talk to his dad; to tell him the good stories, reminding him about
their better times, mostly when Becka, Ray’s wife, was alive. They got a quiet
conversation going, gently flowing over the old man. At times Anne sang parts
of remembered hymns, old country ones. She sang softly with a clear alto voice
about meeting the Savior in the ‘middle of the air’. No one could tell if he
heard them, but sometimes Ray’s eyelids would flutter or the hint of a smile
would trace across his face.

 Near dawn the old man stirred, “Becka, Becka,” his
voice barely audible. “Wait for me, I’m comin’.” His body stiffened, then
slowly relaxed. His breath wheezed out like a balloon gently deflating, then he
was silent. Everyone leaned forward. Billy looked at Jason and then Anne. Anne
put her ear over his chest to listen for a heartbeat. She slowly shook her
head. There was no heartbeat and no breathing. Harsh, convulsive sobs came from
Billy as he fled the room. Jason wiped the old man’s face and closed his eyes.

Death was never pleasant, even when it involved the enemy.
Here, death visited not an enemy, but an ally. Death is a part of life, but
people in the modern era had developed the ability to insulate themselves from
it. Since society had collapsed, death had become personal again. A hundred
years ago people saw death up close. Now, they were seeing it up close again.
It should not be shocking, thought Jason. This was more the way humans had
experienced death for millennia.

Maybe this is more ‘normal’ than what we’ve left behind
.

Later, when Billy had collected himself, he and Jason went
to dig a grave while Anne wrapped the body in a sheet. There was a burial plot
out behind the house. It looked like several generations were buried there.
Jason saw the head marker for Rebecca, the old man’s wife. Billy said they
should place his pa next to her. With pickax and shovel they started. The
ground had begun to thaw, but it got harder going as they dug down. After some
hours they had a four foot hole dug. Billy allowed as that was sufficient and they
went back into the house.

Jason carried the body out to the grave and gently laid it
in the ground. Billy kneeled down and placed his dad’s hunting knife under his
crossed hands. He stood up and stared down at his pa lying there.

“Mrs. Whitman,” he asked, “would you say something? I don’t
know what words to use.”

Anne opened the family Bible she found in the bedroom. This
was the second time in a year she had opened one. Now her hands went of their
own accord to the passages. She began in Genesis, Chapter 3, starting with
verse 19:

By the sweat of thy face

Shalt thou eat bread,

Till thou return unto the
ground,

For out of it thou wast taken;

For thou art dust,

And unto dust thou shalt return.

Then she turned to the Psalms and read Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in
green pastures;

He leadeth me beside still
waters.

He restoreth my soul;

He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness

For His name’s sake.

Yea though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil; for Thou art
with me;

Thy rod and Thy staff, they
comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies;

Thou hast anointest my head with
oil;

My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall
follow me all the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of
the Lord forever.

She finished with the Gospel of John, Chapter 14, verses 1
through 4:

Let not your heart be troubled;
ye believe in God, believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many mansions;
if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you.
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto
Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and
the way ye know.

Anne closed the bible, then continued, “I remember Ray, your
father, as a solitary man. He was a man of the woods, a man of this valley. And
when we moved here twelve years ago, he helped us adjust to life in the
mountains. His mountain wisdom proved valuable over the years. It helped us to
get along. I remember he did not want to be bothered, but if we had any serious
trouble he would always help.”

Billy stared at her as she spoke of her memories from years
ago. “I didn’t know Pa done that for you,” he said with wonder.

“Of course not,” Anne replied, “you were too young. I also
met your mother. She was very nice and helpful, especially with canning and
putting up food.”

Billy turned back to the grave, “Bye, Pa. Thank you for
saying what you did…at the end.” Again tears began to well up, and he stopped
talking.

Jason waited for a nod to begin filling in the grave. Anne
suggested that Billy walk back with her and let Jason finish the work, but
Billy insisted on helping. “Pa says we Turners take care of our own. I need to
do this.”

Later, Jason and Anne prepared to leave. “Are you going to
be all right?” Anne asked.

“I guess,” he paused, “I’m all alone now. Don’t know how
that will go. I was always pretty much alone, but it’s different now…”

“Your dad was always there, even if in the background,” Anne
said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s it,” he appeared dazed.

“We’ll stop by in a few days, if that’s okay with you,”
Jason said.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m not gonna shoot you or anything like
that,” Billy said. Then a bright look came into his eyes. He jumped up, went to
the cupboard, and brought back a gallon jug almost full of clear liquid. “Here.
It’s the last batch I made. I won’t be making any more. I don’t like it. Pa
drank it and it made him either mean or sad. You take it with you. Throw it out
if you want. I don’t want it.”

Anne and Jason graciously accepted the jug as a gift and
left for home.

The air remained brisk over the next weeks, even though the
sun was regaining its strength. Crocuses, the early harbingers of spring, shot
up on the south facing slopes, greedily drinking in the sun’s rays. Jason found
himself starting to look for the leaf buds on the trees; they would be coming
soon. One afternoon, sitting around the kitchen table, the family was interrupted
by the sound of engines. These were not gas engines. The sound had the deeper
thumping of diesel motors. Jason grabbed his binoculars and ran up to the
lookout on the roof. Catherine followed close behind. He looked down the valley
for some time. The sound came and went with the wind. It was still far off.

“What do you see?” Catherine asked after a few moments.

“I can’t tell for sure. It looks like two military
vehicles,” he said with surprise.

“Military?” Catherine was also surprised. “What would they
be doing way out here?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re military. I just can’t tell who’s
in them. And there’s a machine gun on one.”

“We better get ready,” Catherine said, and both turned to go
down the ladder.

Anne and Sarah met them on the second floor.

“Could it really be the Army?” Anne asked.

“Maybe, but we can’t be sure,” Jason replied.

“We’re saved!” Sarah blurted out. Everyone turned to look at
her. “Well, if it’s the army, then things are back to normal, and we can go to
school, and we don’t have to fight gangs, and things will be…normal again,”
Sarah’s voice rose with her enthusiasm as her imagination surged ahead.

 “Still, we better assume the worst and hope for the
best,” Jason said soberly. Catherine had the look of a person used to battle
and prepared for another. Sarah looked hopeful; Anne looked concerned.

“Anne,” Jason turned to her, “Are you going to be all right
if there is a fight? You could wait in the cellar.”

“No,” she replied, “I’ll help. The gunfire will disturb the
baby, but I’ll be more disturbed hearing it from the cellar and not knowing
what’s going on. We face this together…as a family.” She was firm, and the
girls nodded in agreement. Even Sarah, after her burst of enthusiasm, seemed
resolved to do her part.

“Okay. Let’s sit down and figure out how we deal with this,”
Jason said.

Second Lieutenant Kevin Cameron and Sergeant Rodney Gibbs
led six other men, riding in two Humvees. Lieutenant Cameron was enthusiastic.
He enjoyed the structure and routine of the army along with its mission and
sense of purpose. While he had yet to see combat, he felt prepared and
determined to be a good leader of his men. He could be called a ‘strike
trooper’, one who followed the regulations, proudly. And one who worked hard to
support his men. For that reason, his men accepted him, even though he was
un-tested by war.

Lieutenant Cameron’s best asset was his sergeant, Rodney
Gibbs. Sergeant Gibbs was a veteran of Afghanistan and Iraq. He was a black
man, older than Cameron but tough and battle hardened. He was no one’s fool,
having endured discrimination and hostility growing up and then in the army. In
his combat tours, he had found himself to be a source of curiosity in his
contacts with Afghani’s and Iraqi’s, sometimes hostile, sometimes not. It all
served to give Gibbs a pragmatic, cynical view of life. He didn’t expect favors
or help from others. He expected to have to succeed on his own, knowing much of
the system was not organized in his favor.

Still, Gibbs liked the lieutenant. The younger man respected
his experience and was not so taken with his rank as to ignore Gibbs’ wisdom,
garnered from much hard experience. They made a good pair with much trust
between them.

On this patrol through the countryside, they had stopped in
Clifton Furnace. The town was empty but still showed the evidence of the
violence it had suffered. The soldiers’ banter was dampened by the signs of
cannibalization they discovered. The evidence gave silent testimony to the
horror that had occurred there. In a somber mood they drove up the river road
until they came to the iron truss bridge.

The bridge was blocked. Two pickups riddled with bullet
holes were still in the roadway. The remains of the fallen, mostly skeletons
now with only a few rags of clothing left on them, were scattered around the
bridge and the road leading into the valley. Parts of Big Jacks’ remains were
still tied up against the bridge.

“This must have been quite a battle,” remarked Gibbs.

“A lot of bodies left to rot and be eaten,” Cameron said.

“They stripped everything of value though. No weapons,
gear…and clothing missing.”

“I wonder how many dead there are. It looks like it must
have been a pretty large group. What do you think?”

Gibbs was silent, studying the layout of the remains, trying
to reconstruct the scene, “I’m guessing this was an ambush. They were caught as
they crossed the bridge. It’s a natural place for an ambush—the one lane
bridge, a narrow gorge with cliffs on either side. From the cliffs the shooters
could pin down a force of superior numbers. Still, they had to be pretty good.”

“And these guys lost.”

“Yeah. If they had won, they would have salvaged their
vehicles and cleared the bridge.”

“So the bridge was left closed by the victors…to keep others
out of the valley,” Cameron concluded.

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Think these guys were gang members?”

“Yeah.”

“Then…up the road, in that valley, are some farmers, people
who know how to fight and protect themselves,” Cameron concluded.

“And they’re well armed. Shall we investigate?” Gibbs looked
over at Cameron.

“Carefully,” he replied.

Gibbs directed the patrol to clear the bridge. The men
worked somberly at their grizzly task.

The family sat down and Jason quickly went over their
options.

“We only have a short time to prepare. There’s no time to
round up the rest of the valley. If it’s a gang, we’ll have to defend ourselves
like we did before. The others, at least Tom, will come quickly when they hear
the gunfire, so help will arrive if we can hold out for a little while.”

“You said this was the military. Why will there be any
shooting?” Sarah asked.

“The vehicles could be stolen.”

Sarah swallowed hard. The prospect of another firefight at
the farm was unnerving to everyone.

“If it really is the army, then we have to be prepared to
greet them, properly but carefully,” Jason continued.

“How do we do that?” Catherine asked.

“We really don’t know what they want. But they’re not on a
sightseeing trip. They must have a purpose. Since we don’t know what that is,
we have to be cautious.”

“Then we do not run out to them with open arms.” Anne
concluded.

“Right. We don’t know how things have changed since the EMP
attack. This could be a very different army from what we remember.”

“So what do we do?” Sarah asked, “If it’s the army that
should be a good thing.”

Jason frowned, not having a ready answer.

“We show them hospitality,” said Anne. “We’ll set up a table
out in the front yard,”

“That’s it,” Jason said. “Anne, you and I will stand behind
it, like welcoming hosts.” He gathered momentum as the plan unfolded in his
mind. “We’ll be armed, but not holding our weapons at ready. I want them to get
the message that we are capable of taking care of ourselves, but we are not
threatening them.”

“How about we put on good clothes? If we’re welcoming guests,
we should be well dressed,” Catherine offered. “We’ll get more respect that
way.”

 Jason nodded with enthusiasm. “But I want you girls to
stay behind, in the house. Keep your weapons at ready. I don’t know how the
army might react to two beautiful teenagers. I’ll call you out when I am
confident it’s okay. When you come out, have your rifles slung over your
shoulders, not ready to fire.”

The patrol stopped briefly at the first two farms. They were
long abandoned and of no interest. They had seen many just like them on their
trip. As they came closer, Jason confirmed they were all in uniform.

He ran down to the main floor. “It’s the army,” he shouted.
Everyone began to move.

“Now let’s quickly set out some food.” Anne had put together
a platter of dried venison, ham and bread. “Sarah, get some glasses of water.
That will complete the table. This should have a pacifying effect,” she said.

The table was set. Everyone was wearing their best clothes
as if they were greeting important visitors. Anne stood with Jason behind the
table. She was obviously pregnant and obviously armed. Jason had his rifle
shouldered and his 9mm strapped to his waist. Inside, the girls took up
position on the second floor with their rifles and handguns. They were to watch
carefully from the house in case anything went wrong. If shooting broke out,
Jason had instructed Catherine to shoot at the senior officer and Sarah to fire
at the machine gunner. He had no hope of winning a battle, but he would try to
give his family the best chance he could.