What's Left of My World (Book 1)

by C. A. Rudolph

  John shifted in his chair and stood up, slinging the Mossberg over his right shoulder. He walked up closer to Michelle, smiled and kissed her on the cheek, leaning over in order to do so. He was about foot taller than she was.

  “With Lauren, every day is something different,” he said and he walked past her into the house, tossing the cold coffee out of the mug and into the yard.

  Michelle nodded. “She’s always been like that, I guess,” she said. “I think she just likes being unpredictable.” She paused. “I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know—Lord knows you probably know her better than I do now.”

  “No…not really. Sometimes I think I do, but then other times she really throws me for a loop,” John said. “She’s been like that, especially since we moved here.” He turned and started heading down the hallway to his room, banging on Lee’s bedroom door with his fist. “Get up, dickhead!” he yelled.

  Michelle walked closer to the edge of the porch and pulled a slightly smashed pack of cigarettes from her hoodie pocket. They were showing some wear as she had been trying to conserve them, and they had been in her pocket for the better part of a week. She knew that eventually there would be no more to smoke, so each opportunity she had to smoke one became a special ritual all to itself. She enjoyed every single puff to the bitter end. She pulled a BIC from her pants pocket and ignited the cigarette she’d slid between her lips.

  “Just another day in paradise,” she mumbled.

  From behind her, she felt a strong hand touch her shoulder. She didn’t even need to turn around to know whose it was. In a world full of unknowns, it was one of the more familiar things that she had become accustomed to.

  “Good morning, Norman,” Michelle said. “Just an FYI—your son is being a pain in my ass again.”

  “Which one?” Norman asked quizzically as he walked just past her, turning to face her.

  “The usual.”

  “Ah, the eldest. Want me to beat the crap out of him?” he joked. He coughed a few times, turning his head away and covering his mouth and in the process, covering his rather shaggy goatee. Norman preferred to maintain the same look he’d had since before the collapse. His hair was always kept as short as possible. With the exception of his goatee, he was always clean shaven, and he was as proud of his facial hair as he was his enormously thick stainless hoop earrings—which he never took out.

  “Actually, I would just like some firewood split…and maybe some fresh water brought in from the creek. That would make my day,” Michelle offered.

  “Well, let’s get that fun stuff done first, and then I’ll beat the crap out of him,” Norman joked again. “Just so you know, I’m probably going to do some hunting later. I have a hankering for some meat and I think we’re running a bit low.”

  Michelle smiled. She had grown familiar with the early-morning witticisms between her and her best friend, and truly looked forward to them. It made life so much easier to have extra hands around in these hard times, and it was just as comforting to have the added personalities. Norman had filled a huge void in her life. His skills came in more than handy after the move to the cabin, and their less-than-ideal surroundings made those skills essential. He and his sons had become part of the family in spirit a long time ago. When the final decision was made to evacuate their home, it had come when her husband was not around. She knew it would be extremely difficult if not impossible, for her to do it on her own. She knew very little about primitive skills and had no idea how to live off the land, other than with her gardening knowledge—which she knew wouldn’t be enough. It was far easier and safer to have more people around, and she knew that Norman would come if she asked him to. He was a man of honor and there wasn’t any way he’d allow her to take her family into the wild by herself. This was the primary reason that he and his sons had been involved in their family emergency plans that Michelle and her husband had established years ago. She knew that Norman considered them his family. He treated them as if they were his own.

  Norman’s son John was a shoe-in for the move. He and Lauren had been literally inseparable since they were kids. Their love for each other had grown over the years, but like her father, Lauren was staunchly independent and with that, had no need for his companionship all the time. John knew she was a loner and was content waiting for her, never knowing what to expect from her on any particular day. If Lauren needed him, John would come and remain by her side until she pushed him away. He had always been patient with her. Regardless of her idiosyncrasies, Michelle knew that wherever Lauren went, John would follow. They were good for one another. Love was something rare and precious in the world they lived in now.

  Michelle finished her cigarette and walked back inside just as Norman was literally dragging his older son Lee out the door with him, with Lee’s forearm in one hand and an AK-47 rifle in the other. It was a bit of a struggle for Norman, since Lee outweighed him by about fifty pounds.

  “We need water for washing up, too,” Michelle said with a barely audible giggle.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Norman said.

  Lee was in protest with his father, but this was not a new thing. He always ended up listening and doing what was needed, he just constantly needed to be coerced. It had been like this for as long as Michelle could remember. She had known Norman and his boys for many years and their collective behavior had become a part of her family ties. They were indeed a family now, after all. Each of them had responsibilities to this new household they had created. Each of them had a skillset essential to the family’s survival. In this new world, Michelle knew that they all needed each other, now more than ever. She would do whatever it took to keep them all together and safe, even if it meant risking her own life in order to do so.

  Michelle walked back to the hallway and turned down the staircase to the basement, which was little more than a cellar; surrounded by a formidable stone foundation lined with concrete. It stretched the entire length of the cabin and most of their provisions were kept there. As well, the cellar was also where her step-daughter Grace had set up her sleeping area. She had done so not long after the family moved, in order to ‘escape the testosterone’, as she put it. Michelle grabbed a headlamp that hung by a nail on the wall as she went down, and turned it on to illuminate her way. At twenty-four, Grace was the oldest of the younger generation in the cabin, and preferred to have an area all to herself. The cellar was cold and musty, but that didn’t seem to bother her. The past year’s events had hardened her quite a bit. Michelle could remember when Grace used to be petrified of just about everything. Since moving here, she had learned many new skills and had matured well beyond her years. She had become a distinguished homemaker and had learned how to handle firearms and defend herself. During the day, she was Michelle’s companion when everyone else was off doing their chores.

  Michelle turned the corner and from behind the blanket that hung across the cellar ceiling, that Grace had hung for privacy, she saw that Grace was already up and getting dressed. She had a headlamp on and was lacing up her hiking boots. Grace looked up at her, and Michelle held her hand over her eyes as the headlamp Grace was wearing temporarily blinded her.

  “OH…um sorry,” Grace declared, “I didn’t mean to blind you.”

  “That’s ok. I was just coming down here to see if you were ready for another day—”

  “In paradise?” Grace interrupted. “Yes. I believe so. Don’t have much else planned. What’s on the agenda?

  “The guys are out splitting wood and getting our water supply replenished. Norman said he would probably go on a hunt after that.”

  “Really? YUM. I am so tired of eating rice and beans and canned meat,” Grace said.

  “It’ll definitely add some variety to our pantry. I’m sure he’ll smoke some, but we can make jerky with the rest of it,” Michelle said.

  “We should just make jerky with all of it,” Grace said with a smile.

  “Good point,” Michelle agreed, “we
all love Norman’s deer jerky.”

  “Well hopefully, he’ll bag something today,” Grace said. “The woods aren’t as plentiful as they used to be. With hunting seasons not enforced and everyone hunting for food, it’s only going to get worse.”

  “We’re lucky to live in a remote area, Grace. There’s a lot of land out there for our community to use. It’s not nearly as bad the areas closer to the city, but you’re right. The chances of us finding wild game will become more remote as time goes on if we don’t exercise some conservation,” Michelle said. She turned off her headlamp, seeing that there was no need to have two of them burning in the same room. “It’s the nature of the beast. I know it’s not going to get any easier—I’m just trying not to dwell on that.”

  Grace smiled and stood up, reaching to the ceiling to stretch. She tossed her waist-length brunette hair over her shoulder, deciding today not to braid it or put it into a pony tail like she usually did. She then reached down to the foot of her bed where an outside waistband holster lay with a Glock 27 pistol secured in it, and snapped the holster to her pants. Grace pulled the pistol, press checked it, and secured it back into the holster. She slid an extra magazine into the left rear pocket of her pants. She went to the corner of her room where a tan colored AR-15 carbine was leaning in the darkness, then picked it up and slung it over her left shoulder.

  “You know—since deer are the animal everyone is trying to hunt, maybe he’ll have better luck hunting bear. I could eat that right about now,” she said, taking a deep breath and feeling her stomach growl. “I could eat just about anything right now.”

  Michelle laughed inside at Grace’s words. She had indeed changed so much. It wasn’t long ago that she wouldn’t have even considered to eat any type of wild game, even the most common ones.

  “I don’t think we have a gun big enough for a bear,” Michelle said.

  “He’s got a knife, doesn’t he?” Grace quipped.

  They both walked back to the staircase and ascended back to the hallway where there was just enough natural light to see. Grace turned off her headlamp and stowed it in her pocket. Michelle returned the headlamp she had to the nail on the wall in the staircase.

  “So, I guess Lauren is out on a walkabout again?” Grace pondered.

  “Yes. She left earlier this morning, according to John.”

  “I worry about her, Michelle,” Grace said, “don’t you?”

  “I worry about her all the time—but worrying never fixes anything, Grace. I have to let her be who she is. What she is doing provides us and our neighbors with good information,” Michelle said.

  “Yeah. I don’t know. She’s just like—some kind of soldier now,” Grace said, imagining her sister as one of the camouflage-laden girls carrying an AK-47 in the movie Red Dawn. It made her somewhat proud, as well as apprehensive.

  Michelle gave her a glance, then turned away and started remembering Lauren’s childhood in pieces. “Lauren has always been a bit of a soldier, Grace,” she said. “Of course, it’s been much different since the collapse.”

  Grace walked into the kitchen, unshouldered and propped her rifle against a half-wall that divided the kitchen from the living room, and began going through the cupboards. She pulled out a large can of pancake mix and set it on the counter, and then reached into a shelf on the island and pulled out a medium-sized cast-iron skillet.

  “I’ll get some breakfast going. I am absolutely starving,” Grace said as she busily began stuffing kindling into the kitchen stove. “Maybe some food will help me stop worrying about her.”

  Michelle smiled. She never had to ask Grace to do anything. She just always knew what needed to be done, and always knew when to do it. Grace had been visiting with them for the weekend at their home in Winchester, Virginia when things went bad. She was a product of a relationship comprised of Michelle’s husband and old girlfriend that Michelle grew to know as a friend, later on in life. Grace had been born long ago and had lost touch with her father, only to get to know him as a teenager and a young adult. As her relationship with her father had grown, she had become very loyal to the family. She was especially close to Lauren whom she developed to know as her baby sister and with that, nurtured her. Grace was a confidant and an eternal advice-giver and had helped Lauren find her way through life on more than one difficult occasion. She was also very daring, assertive, and a complete smartass—the latter trait making it apparent to all who met her, who her father most definitely was.

  On the day that things went south, Grace had a choice to make that wasn’t easy for her. She could chance going it alone and attempt to make it back home to her mother and her other family, or she could join her second family in their plans to bug-in for as long as they could hold out. Knowing full well how dangerous the world was becoming and the fact that anyone going it alone who wasn’t properly prepared for such a task would eventually meet their demise, the decision, although a difficult one became obvious to her. People had become desperate; even diabolical after the shock of what had happened hit them. It became even worse when food began running out. Grace knew she had zero chance of making it on her own if she chose to leave, and that her best chance for survival was staying with the Russell family, even if it meant forsaking those who were closest to her.

  With the morning activities well on their way, Michelle walked back outside to the front porch and closed the front door behind her. She closely surveyed the wooded front yard of their property, including the driveway that stretched a few hundred yards to a metal gate mounted to a very old wooden fence, reinforced with stone. Just beyond the gate was Trout Run Road, a two-lane asphalt road which led south through the George Washington National Forest to Wolf Gap and the Virginia/West Virginia state line. This was where the community had barricaded the road using explosives a few months ago, in order to isolate themselves from dangers that existed on the eastern side of the mountain where the population was much greater. Unless travelling by horse or on foot, the road was impassable. On the northern end of what they considered their community, the road ran through the small village of Perry, West Virginia. Perry was little more than an old store and a defunct animal petting zoo that had closed a decade ago. There were a few houses there, some of which sat empty before and some that had been abandoned after the collapse. Not everyone had prepared adequately and had decided to leave to search for better options. Some of the homes were nothing more than weekend retreats for some families. The road ended ultimately just outside the town of Wardensville, over ten miles away. Fuel was extremely limited and most vehicles didn’t run anymore, so it was a rare occurrence to see that type of traffic on the road. The ones that still ran just didn’t get used that often. Some of their neighbors had all-terrain vehicles that they used only on rare occasion. People had become very fuel conscious and had chosen to preserve it as a precious commodity that could not be replaced or replenished.

  The old Chevrolet Suburban that had brought Michelle and her family to the cabin had only a quarter tank of gasoline left in it. Norman’s crew-cab Dodge had in it, about the same. Both sat beside each other behind the shed on the rear of the property. The only time either would run was when Norman would start them on occasion, to keep the engines and batteries maintained. The family had no extra gasoline in their stock of provisions. It was one of a very few things that the family didn’t plan for, and Michelle thought about it every day, and more than regretted the oversight. They were lucky enough to have three Honda Rancher four-wheelers with full gas tanks locked up inside the shed, which was situated on the other side of the creek from the cabin. It was accessible only by a small wooden bridge that crossed a deep ravine where Trout Run ran through. They had a case of additive in there as well, and it was added to the tanks on occasion to keep the gasoline from going stale. While they were nice to have, it had been decided long ago that the ATVs were to be used only as a last resort, since they had no way to refuel them.

  For normal transportation to and from their trusted
neighbors, to meetings, and occasionally into Perry to barter with other inhabitants of the valley, each member of the family had a mountain bike. This kept their operational radius very limited. Wardensville had once been a meeting place for most of the communities in the region, as well as most of Hardy County. It was nearly an hour away on bike and wasn’t the safest place to be in these times. The local authorities had lost control of the town over the summer, during a raid on supplies and it was rumored to be completely lawless now. Stores and businesses had been looted and burned. The pharmacy, restaurants, and even the schools had been ransacked for anything that the takers deemed necessary for survival. Many people who had lived there had been killed and their houses burned to the ground. The proximity of the town of Wardensville to their location was something that Michelle worried about every day.

  It took a while for Michelle to become accustomed to living in such a rural area so far away from what she considered ‘civilization’, but she felt she had adapted and with that, was beginning to love being here. Most of her neighbors did not seem affected much by the collapse. They had practiced subsistence as a part of their everyday way of life, even before the lights had gone out. The closest supermarket was over twenty miles away and it just wasn’t in their nature to depend on the system, living in such rural surroundings. Everyone had woodstoves in their homes and several winters’ worth of seasoned firewood. Everyone had gardens and some had livestock. To them, the only thing that made life harder was lack of electricity, but they soon overcame it, and were now doing their best to thrive without it.

  Their land was situated between two mountains; Long Mountain to the west and North Mountain range behind the cabin to the east. It was a formidable location and even though rocky and wooded, one could see from one end of the property to another, all the way to the foothills of each mountain with the naked eye. In order to trespass, one would either have to trudge over the mountains to the west or east, which was no easy task, or travel Trout Run Road on foot for many miles. The barricade at Wolf Gap reduced most threats from the other side of the border and eliminated the possibility of vehicle traffic. Takers had come from Virginia into the valley and had caused the community some trouble earlier on that year, and they needed to prevent that from happening again. From the outside of the gate, the cabin was well camouflaged and nearly hidden from the road. The land that surrounded them provided them with just about everything they needed, including a consistent supply of fresh water as Trout Run was fed mostly by mountain streams and springs. Trout Run itself was aptly named as it was full of tasty and very edible river and brook trout. The West Virginia Department of Natural Resources had done a great job of stocking it before the collapse, and most of the fish population remained today. Small and medium sized game were abundant, due to the lack of population in the area currently, and hunting was therefore a mainstay of finding food, which helped them further ration their provisions. The rear yard near the creek had some of the most mineral-rich soil that Michelle had ever seen, and her first gardening experience here had been an amazing success.