The Upheaval

by Erica Stevens

  We reminisced about how we met each other, about the year that had passed and the stupid things we've done or experienced. John was at the center of most of the mishaps. He spent most of the night scowling, blushing and chuckling into his beer bottle while someone teased him about the time he'd fallen off of Rochelle's horse in his one attempt at riding, or when he'd gotten his fishing hook caught up on a rock, but insisted it was a fish and reeled himself right out of the raft.

  The heartache from all of our losses is still there, it always will be. We'll never be able to completely get over what we experienced, but we are all beginning to live again. The nightmares will haunt us for the rest of our days, but we get to live those days and that is more than most people have now. None of us ever properly grieved, there still isn't time to do so, but from what I saw last night I realize now that we are all slowly moving on. This past year hasn't been easy, I haven't even taken the time to write until now, but we're getting there. We're making progress. Things are definitely better.

  The Nutters and Lost Souls who didn't perish from the disease ravishing their systems before winter set in seem to have been effectively killed by the snow, sleet, low temperatures and ice that descended upon us. Al and Rusty both agreed it was the worst winter they'd ever seen up here and it was by far the worst I've ever had to endure. Perhaps the unrelenting cold had been a way to offset the high temps of the summer as the earth tried to stabilize itself again, but there were more than a few times I didn't think any of us would survive those brutal months.

  There were endless weeks when we all sat close together in the cabin, listening to the wind howl through the cracks, and shivering in our blankets. The snow covered the windows throughout most of December, January, and February. Keeping the exit cleared became an hourly production and a tiring chore. It had been a battle to keep a trail open to the shed where we'd stored all of the meat, and to the lake where we had to break through the ice every day in order to fish. The small barn we'd built for Silver, John came up with the name for Rochelle's horse, had collapsed once but Silver had survived the incident and the harsh winter. So had Spooky, who had been miserable in the cabin with us, but even more miserable when she'd attempted to go out into the snow.

  Huddled together with wood to burn, John's heater, food, and a lot of melted snow water we still barely survived the winter. There were definitely days when I was convinced we wouldn't. But then the sky had cleared, the sun had come out, and animals I was certain had been buried beneath the eight plus feet of snow began to reemerge.

  Crocuses, as always, were the first sign spring was truly on its way as they poked their colorful heads from beneath the frozen ground. Then the birds began to chirp more loudly and the deer began to reappear too. The skunks, squirrels, raccoons, and other forest creatures also started to reemerge from their burrows and we've spotted a couple of black bear too. I'm sure their population took a hit, but like us, some managed to survive.

  With the snow melting and the earth defrosting we began to explore again. There had been talk of separating and moving into the cabin closest to Al's until Riley, Xander, Mary Ellen, and I discovered this large farmhouse in early May. The large red home is out in the countryside and set off from the road. It has three bedrooms on one side and on the other side of the house is a small apartment. Another house sits on a lot about a hundred feet away; it's close enough that Rusty's family is able to stay in it and we can still see them and look out for each other. There's plenty of land to grow crops on, a large barn for Silver, and paddocks for him to run around in. A pond up in the woods offers up numerous perches, sunfish, and pickerels too.

  Acres of farmland are less than a five minute walk from the houses. The farmland remains intact but the house and barn that had stood on the property burned down, along with whatever farm equipment the barn had held. From scavenging other homes and farms, we've uncovered enough tools that we should be able to farm a good plot of land next year. For now the corn, peas, lettuce, tomatoes and other vegetables we planted on this land are coming up well.

  If Nancy had still been with us, I probably would have moved her into the small apartment I'm now occupying with Xander and Riley. However, even with my watch over her and the beginnings of what I'd hoped to become a romance between us, along with Mary Ellen's determination to draw her out and become her friend, and everyone else's unwavering support, we found Nancy hanging from one of the deer stands in early November.

  It was the first time since all of this started I found myself truly enraged and heartbroken. So many things had happened since that first quake but this was the one act I couldn't comprehend. In some ways, I still can't, but the anger isn't there anymore. No matter how hard we tried, or what we did, I have come to realize that some people are simply too tender to handle this world and Nancy was one of them. It's sad but it's life.

  We've yet to see a Nutter or Lost Soul since the start of the brutal winter. That doesn't mean they're all dead. None of us are willing to let our guards down when it comes to the Nutter's or Lost Souls but our stress level has definitely decreased. The remains of the sick are everywhere and the smell of them permeates the air whenever we leave the farm to raid the nearby homes. A lot of the remains are being foraged by animals and though it's disturbing, it's a relief to see their body parts dwindling down.

  There's never been another sighting of a horseman either. They may still be out there, wandering the earth, but we've yet to encounter them or any new mounds. Maybe they've moved onto Europe or even Australia. I have a feeling their means of travel is far beyond anything we would ever be able to do.

  I wonder what the rest of the world looks like but I imagine it is much the same. We've never seen or heard anything from anywhere else. Maybe one day communication will be reestablished with the rest of the world, or even another town, but for now I think we're all content to simply just be. There was enough chaos even before the apocalypse, now all we want is peace and a chance to plant some roots again.

  And we are planting our roots here. We now have four horses on the farm and two cows. The cows were unfamiliar animals to all of us but we've kept them alive and we've figured out how to milk them. We also have four chickens, we did have ten, but a fox took care of six of them before we were able to catch the others and lock them in the barn. Two are giving us eggs; the other two are beginning to look like dinner.

  We've also encountered some other survivors. A group of ten people is living only two miles away in another farmhouse on one of the back roads. They're a friendly enough group but for the most part we avoid each other. Al and Rusty have spoken with them about a possible joint farming venture next year, as the weather appears to have stabilized enough that we could plant far more crops than we did this year. Or at least the spring and summer were normal, hopefully that means the winter will return to normal too. My bones ache just thinking about having to endure those miserable months again.

  The idea of going south was discussed and then abandoned. We know what we have here and we know we can survive the winter. There is a lot of farmland around us, with a lot of abandoned homes. We're continuously exploring more and more and we've established a firm, solid base here. We have no idea what we would encounter if we left. The Nutters could have survived the winter down there. They could be running free, and none of us ever want to take the chance of encountering one of them again.

  We're happy here. Relationships are growing and changing. I've noticed Leah and John walking with their heads bent close together more often. As I'm writing this, Carl has his arm draped around Mary Ellen's shoulders while they stand by the fire and laugh with the others. I've been talking with Phoebe a lot more, she's a nice woman but my heart is still wounded from Nancy. It is good to have someone to talk with again.

  Sitting here now, watching the six of them gathered around the fire, the ones whose stories I have taken and retold and now have sitting in my lap, I wonder if they know what they've done. Wonder if they know that the only rea
son any of us are here is because three groups of strangers came together, aided each other, and formed a family when their worlds were falling apart. I don't think they know what it is they've done, or at least what they've done for me. I never would have made it this far without them. Never would have found this family and I am thankful for them every day.

  I watch them now and can't help but smile as Carl shoves John's shoulder and John curses at him, but he's also laughing as he pushes him back. We still don't know what is to come for us, or if the world will fall apart on us again, but for now we've all found security here.

  We've all come to one silent conclusion too, we don't talk about the future or what caused everything to happen. We focus on the day to day and we enjoy every day we have together because we know how quickly it can all be torn away from us, how swiftly we can lose the ones we love. We've all processed the revelations in our own ways. I now say a silent prayer every night before going to bed but I prefer to focus on the life I'm fortunate enough to still have. I think most, if not all of the others, do the same.

  We have a large and growing supply of weapons, food, clothing, tools, animals, gas, vehicles, and water in the basement and the barn but we don't talk about why we're putting these things there. If we did, we would only go back to living every day in fear. This way, by not acknowledging the fact it could all go away again, we're able to enjoy the days of relative peace we've been given since the first crocus opened to the sun. We're not foolish enough not to be prepared.

  Claire, Freddie, Victor, Rochelle, and Phoebe are emerging from the barn with some more alcohol, drinks, and food cradled in their arms. The celebration from last night is going to continue tonight. Rochelle pauses to close and lock the door before hurrying over to join the others. Rusty, R.J. and Leah just stepped out of the house with some blankets to sit on. They walk across the drive, past the crab apple tree and raspberry briars that line the side of the yard to join the others. The tree is already yielding fruit and Mary Ellen is determined to try and make cider from it in the fall.

  I should go too, but sometimes I just like to sit here on this rock wall and watch. It's so rare I get the chance. Even as I think it, Phoebe turns to search the night for me. A smile splits her face and she begins to wave me over. "Donald, come on!" she calls to me.

  "I'll be right there!" I call back.

  I should go, perhaps I'll write again soon. Though I'm not sure life will give me the chance and I no longer require the escape writing these stories gave me during our journey. Nor do I think anyone is overly interested in farmer John's story, he's not that good at working the land anyway.

  I'll take these journals and store them safely with our other supplies. I found a fire safe in one of the closets and plan to lock them inside. That way if everything goes to crap again and we have to leave here, or if we're all killed this time, at least these notebooks will be there for someone to hopefully learn our story one day. I believe it deserves to be told, believe it is one worth sharing with future generations. Generations that will one day shape and mold this world into something else, just as the many generations before us did.

  We have no idea what the future holds for us, but then we never did. For now, I'm going to join my family in the celebration and cherish in these moments, and these loved ones, that I've been given.

  THE END

  Author's note

  I want to thank everyone that followed along from the very first chapter I posted to my Facebook page and blog over two years ago. I didn't know how people would take to a weekly serial story, but it was a lot of fun to be able to write something new every week. I was sad to say goodbye to these characters but I felt it was time to let them go. Though I still miss my Monday postings.

  On a more personal note, the singing horseman Al spoke about when he talked to Rochelle about harness horses was my father. I'd always planned to put him in this book; I thought he would get the biggest kick out of it. Unfortunately, he passed away before I was able to do so. However, many people heard his loud, enthusiastic renditions of Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys, On the Road Again, or Lord it's Hard to be Humble as he jogged his horses around the track. He had an enthusiasm and love for life I've never seen in anyone before and he lit up a room. Everyone smiled or laughed when they saw him. I miss him every day, he may be gone but I can still hear his singing and laughter.

  Where to find the author

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  About the author

  My name is not really Erica Stevens, it is a pen name that I chose in memory of two amazing friends lost too soon, I do however live in Mass with my wonderful husband and our puppy Loki. I have a large and crazy family that I fit in well with. I am thankful every day for the love and laughter they have brought to my life. I have always loved to write and am an avid reader.

  Table of Contents

  Other Works

  Dedication

  Special Thanks

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Author's note

  Where to Find The Author

  About The Author