On Distant Shores

by Mark Harritt

Epilogue – The Past

  Jack watched Jo cry, and his heart was breaking. He was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Jo was in the living room, her arms around her legs, sitting on the couch. Sarah was sitting with Jo, holding her as she cried. Jo had suffered the loss of the love of her life, and she couldn’t get through to her family in Syracuse to see if they were okay. Jack had been devastated by the news that Mike was at Malmstrom AFB when the missiles hit. But he dealt with it. His family wouldn’t survive if he let it destroy him. So he buried it, deep inside.

  The entire world suffered. Nuclear strikes destroyed the major cities and military installations in the USA. The super volcano in Yellowstone had been hit by nuclear missiles and erupted. The entire Great Plains was covered in ash a foot deep. Nuclear winter settled over the land like the hand of death. The crazies were talking about the judgment of God. The cities that hadn’t been hit quickly succumbed to chaos and violence. Famine and disease wracked the world, continuing the killing that the nuclear war had started. Right now he was so thankful that he bought land in the mountains, away from the city. Still, it might end up turning into a slow death for his family, instead of the quick one Mike had endured.

  The farm wasn’t too far from Higden, Georgia. They were situated well, back in one of the valleys in the mountains. The boys from the National Guard armory pulled out all of their equipment, and were dealing with the roaming, murdering gangs from Atlanta. They came, but they didn’t leave. Mass graves were dug for them after each incursion. The good people in the area were close, and were sticking by each other. The local meth addicts were given no mercy when they started stealing. The local sheriff wasn’t having it. Gone was the revolving justice that the United States used to deal out. Now, stealing was death. The locals of Higden dealt violence for violence, and were getting a reputation as a place people shouldn’t mess with. Still, when they could, they took in stragglers that had escaped the violence that surrounded them.

  Jack sipped his coffee. He felt the arms go around his waist. He patted his wife’s hands with his.

  “Hey honey, how’re you?” he asked.

  “Sad, so sad,” Allison answered.

  Jack nodded, “Yeah, it gets me as well.”

  “Do you think that we’ll ever see him again? Could he have lived?”

  Jack shook his head, “Multiple warheads, and a volcano erupting. There is no way he survived. Besides, it’s been four weeks. If he was alive, nothing would keep him from Jo.”

  He could feel Allison’s body move as she cried. He sat down his coffee and turned to hold her in his arms. Gently, he kissed the top of her head, “Honey, we have Mike’s wife, and his baby. We’ll do everything we can to make sure that they survive. That’s the best thing we can do for Mike.”

  She continued crying. He spoke, so gently, “Honey, the only thing that we can do is pray that, wherever Mike is, he’s in God’s hands.”

  She nodded.

  Jack was glad that he spent his days prepping for bad times. They had freeze dried food downstairs, enough to feed the family for a year. He had bins of beans, and other foods that wouldn’t spoil. He had heirloom seeds to plant. He had silver for anything else they may need. He also had enough weapons to dissuade bad men from trying anything stupid. Hard times were ahead. He just hoped that he could get his family through them.

  He slowly moved Ally’s arms from around his waist. Then he led her into the living room to Jo and Sarah. Ally sat down with Jo, across from Sarah, and put her arms around her. They were all crying now. Jack was just grateful that this had been Jo’s first stop after she flew from Montana. If she had gone to Syracuse, he would have lost her and the last part of Mike, the baby. He was thankful that she had those last days with him.

  Jack moved to the door, put on a warm jacket. He picked up his M14 rifle, opened the door, and stepped outside. He was going to walk the perimeter, and make sure that his family was safe.

  Craig was outside. Craig was Jack’s step-son, but he loved him like he loved Mike. He became Craig’s stepdad when Craig was two years old and Sarah was one. Unlike Mike, Craig wasn’t interested in traveling, preferring to stay close to home. He was forest ranger in the Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest. He was also a captain in the GANG, the Georgia Army National Guard. Craig used his position to start the local defense against the roaming gangs of people that came out of the big cities to plunder and murder in the country side.

  Craig nodded at Jack, “Hey dad.” Craig was drinking coffee, the steam from the cup rising in the cold air. His Smith and Wesson Military and Police model pistol in .40 caliber was on his hip, and an M4 liberated from the GANG armory was strapped across his chest, “Getting cold out here.”

  Jack nodded, “And it’s only going to get colder.”