by E. E. Borton
A Novel By
E.E. Borton
WITHOUT II
The Fall
Legacy Road Publishing
(Kindle Edition)
© 2016 E.E. Borton. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
First Published by: Legacy Road Publishing. 11/18/2016
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Natalie Elzinga, Z, Doug Braun, Mike Makinster, Ralph McDaniel, Hopper, and my amazing sisters, Jennifer and Ashley.
Credits
Jennifer Ziegnefuss – Editor
Natalie Elzinga – Graphic Designer / Cover
For J.S. Reece
WITHOUT II
The Fall
A Novel By:
E.E. Borton
Original Story Concept By:
Sean Chase and Keith Foster
Table of Contents
October 9th – Day 159
Chapter 1 – The First Line
Chapter 2 – Play Ball
Chapter 3 - Downhill
Chapter 4 – Train Wreck
Chapter 5 - Honey
Chapter 6 – Front of the Line
Chapter 7 – Warm Welcome
Chapter 8 – Worth Dying For
Chapter 9 - Supercell
Chapter 10 – Luck Be A Lady
Chapter 11 - Sally
Chapter 12 - JD
Chapter 13 - Locusts
Chapter 14 – Anti-Social Network
Chapter 15 – Ties That Bind
Chapter 16 – A Few Good Men
Chapter 17 – “Can Do!”
Chapter 18 – The Dying of the Light
Chapter 19 – Killing the Messenger
Chapter 20 - Confidence
Chapter 21 – Show Time
Chapter 22 - Shovels
Chapter 23 – Lessons Learned
Chapter 24 – A Trail of Tears
Chapter 25 – A Dish Best Served Cold
Chapter 26 – Mrs. Cromartie’s Biscuits
Chapter 27 – All Aboard
Chapter 28 – Once More Unto the Breach
Chapter 29 – Ghost Town
Chapter 30 - Cracker
Chapter 31 - Gatekeeper
Chapter 32 – Abominable Snowmen
Chapter 33 – Sleeping Beauties
Chapter 34 - Forgiven
Chapter 35 – Family Reunions
Chapter 36 – Big Fish
Chapter 37 - Frozen
Chapter 38 – The Last Contingency
Chapter 39 - Mush
Chapter 40 – Tick, Tock
Chapter 41 - Math
Chapter 42 – The Good Guys
Chapter 43 – The Lord and Earl
Chapter 44 - Cake
Chapter 45 – Trojan Bear
Chapter 46 – Turning Tables
Chapter 47- Sail
Chapter 48 – Crazy Ivan
Chapter 49 – Mr. President
Chapter 50 – Little Man
Chapter 51 – Final Phase
Chapter 52 – The Four Horsemen
Chapter 53 - Valhalla
November 21st – Day 202
October 9th
(Day 159)
This is me keeping my promise. Doc and Kelly thought it would be a good idea for me to start a journal. Doc started one as well and thinks it’s important for those who come after us to know what happened here. Kelly thinks it’ll help me with my nightmares. Either way, I told them I’d do it as long as they didn’t read it while I was still alive. I’ll always keep my promises to them. They’ve always kept theirs to me.
I asked her where I should start. I should’ve known her answer before she gave it. Start at the beginning. Start at 8:13 on May 3rd. That’s the exact time everything that used, stored, or produced electricity stopped working. 159 days later, they’re still not working. Nobody has a clue why, but everyone has a theory. A solar flare, terrorist EMP, magnetic pole reversal, an angry God, aliens, and the list goes on. I don’t think about the reasons much. I just think about making it through another day.
I was stuck in Atlanta traffic heading into work when it happened. In an instant, there was chaos beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Cars smashed into each other, and planes fell out of the sky. Pillars of smoke rose in every direction while I stood outside my car trying to figure out what the hell was going on. After a few minutes, I didn’t care. I grabbed my backpack and started walking home.
After a hellish night of sonic booms, green waves of light in the sky, and people screaming, I decided to get out of Atlanta the next morning. There’s no doubt in my mind that decision to leave saved my life. It took less than twenty-four hours for some people to turn into monsters. The killing hasn’t stopped since.
I guess I was more prepared than most. There were signs that something bad was coming. I had no idea how bad or how fast that thing would be. I do now.
My plan had always been to go at it alone. It meant I’d only have to take care of myself. My parents left me their retirement home in the North Georgia Mountains, so that’s where I headed. It would take me at least a week to get there on foot. It was an isolated cabin, and I planned on staying there until people smarter than me figured out what was wrong and fixed it.
Assholes taking advantage of the situation weren’t the only things out there trying to kill me. Cannonball-sized hail, two-mile-wide tornadoes, floods, and insane storms popped out of nowhere. In most cases, I only had seconds to find shelter. In some cases, I didn’t find it at all.
Most people didn’t pay attention to the signs. They stayed in their homes and waited to be rescued. They figured out too late that nobody was coming. They were easy targets for those who knew that as well. I still run into people today who can’t believe how quickly our society fell apart. I wasn’t surprised at all. It was falling apart long before the event.
There were armed robberies, home invasions, kidnappings, rapes, murders, and countless other crimes against the innocent every day when there was a 911. What the hell did they think was going to happen when there wasn’t? Whatever the reasons, they didn’t last long waiting for someone to save them.
I made it to my parents’ cabin, but not before I ran into a few people who were looking to take advantage of me or others. Okay, more than a few. Somehow I managed to come out on top. Some of those fights were easy to win. Some of them weren’t, and I have the scars to remember each. I’m not ready to go into detail about them on paper. That’s going to stay between me and them for now.
The cabin was everything I hoped it would be. I was there for a while before things started to change. I wanted isolation and I got it. I need to be more careful with the things I wish for. Sometimes I get them.
Before I lost the rest of my mind, I left. My Uncle Perry and his family lived in Stevenson, Alabama. It’s where I am now. It had been years since I visited them, and I was worried about the reception I’d receive. Without hesitation they took me in as one of their own. It seems a little weird writing that, since I am one of their own. It has taken a wh
ile for that to sink in.
Stevenson is an amazing place full of amazing people. This town is resilient, loyal, and tough. Those are also the words I’d use to describe Kelly. She’s a talented nurse and ended up saving my life on more than one occasion. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Well, after I was shot, broke my arm, got drunk, and then puked all over my uncle. That was a helluva day.
I guess my point is that going at it alone wasn’t working. The only hope any of us have to survive is by taking care of each other. The strong helping the weak. The haves helping the have nots. The hopeful reaching out to the hopeless.
With each passing day, all of that is becoming harder to do.
Chapter 1
(Day 160)
The First Line
My name is Henry.
I was named after my grandfather, but most who knew him called him Hank. He was a cook in the Navy during World War II, so a few called him Cookie. I don’t remember him ever calling me by my given name. It was either Ace or Knucklehead, depending on what kind of trouble I was in. For our family, he was Bing Crosby, John Wayne, Santa Claus, and St. Patrick rolled up into one amazing human being. He was the best man I ever knew.
My uncle, Perry Dawson, reminded me of my grandfather for more reasons than the pug nose and the bellowing laugh. He was a large, jolly man with a huge heart and jackhammers for fists. Because he was with me, I felt more at ease when JD materialized out of thin air.
“How many?” asked Perry.
“Twenty-seven,” replied JD. “Fifteen men, seven women, and five kids. One under ten years old. Well-armed, but they looked ragged and tired.”
“Refugees?”
“I’d say so.”
“The groups are getting larger,” I said. “How do you want to handle them, Uncle?”
He dropped to a knee and started rubbing his beard. He always did that when he had a tough decision to make. I didn’t envy his new unofficial title of Mayor of Stevenson.
“Same as the last group,” said Perry. “Can you do the job again, boys?”
“Yes, sir.”
JD and his younger brother, Tucker, grew up in the woods around the small town of Stevenson. They were our most skilled hunters and deadly accurate with their rifles. They were fast, patient, and could anticipate each other’s moves while they maneuvered like ghosts through the trees. They’d get close enough to hear someone’s last breath if they chose fight instead of flight.
Uncle Perry had a simple, but effective, plan when dealing with groups of refugees who wandered too close to our town. Under the cover of darkness, he’d send JD and Tucker out with a note written on bright orange paper. JD would slither into their camp while they slept as Tucker watched over him through the scope of his gun. Out of the four times JD had placed the note in the middle of stranger’s camps, one of two reactions followed.
Fear was the most common. As we watched from a distance, the person who discovered the note would gather the group, and they’d follow the instructions to move along in peace. (I guess knowing something dangerous was capable of getting that close to them while they slept was enough of a deterrent.) The reaction of the last group is why Uncle Perry hesitated and took a knee.
They ignored the warning on the note. Every person that pointed a weapon at us was cut down seconds after making the choice to be defiant. The twelve survivors complied and fled.
Their reaction affected Uncle Perry deeply. But he knows we can’t take any more in or we won’t survive the winter. He knows that we can’t save them all.
Nobody slept after JD and Tucker delivered the note. It became a ritual for us to break down and clean our weapons while we waited. Once Uncle Perry would assign positions and give us the plan, he’d leave us to go to his wife and daughter. A few others would go to their families, but most of us stayed behind, including my cousin Joey. He’s Uncle Perry’s son.
There were twenty-two of us sitting in the old community center that now served as the armory. We had more in reserve if we needed them, but we were the first line of defense for Stevenson. We had become a band of brothers since the event that plunged our world into chaos and darkness.
Some had military or law enforcement experience, but none of us had killed another human being before the lights went out. Now we all have ghosts that haunt us in our sleep. I’d risk my life for the man sitting beside me because I know he’d do the same for me.
It was two hours before sunrise when we departed from the safety of the community center and headed into harm’s way. JD and Tucker had left an hour earlier to take their positions closest to the refugees. The rest of us took ours on higher ground, which gave the group only two directions to move. They could either leave on foot or take the boats they had used to cross the Tennessee River.
Their camp was along the riverbank two miles from the edge of town. As dawn broke on a chilly morning, the first refugee to wake headed for the pit to reignite their cooking fire. It’s where JD had placed the message.
Watching him through my scope, I could see his reaction. There was no doubt it was fear. After looking in my direction, he entered the largest tent at the camp. A few moments later, several armed men emerged and began waking the others. It appeared as if they were taking the warning seriously – until they made their first mistake.
Two young men at the edge of camp detached the scopes from their rifles to scan the tree line where we were concealed. As my finger slid from the guard to the trigger, an older man rushed over to them and knocked the scopes out of their hands. He seemed to be the man in charge. They lowered their heads and started to take down their tent.
It took the refugees an hour to break camp and load the gear into the boats. It was a dangerous way to travel because it put them out in the open with nowhere to run, but it was the fastest way for them to move out of the area. As the last boat disappeared around a bend in the river, we assembled in the clearing they had just vacated.
“JD and Tucker are gonna scout the bank downriver to make sure they don’t double back on us,” said Perry. “I’m glad those folks made the right choice.”
“They didn’t look like they had much fight in them,” said Joey, coming out of the woods and standing by his father.
“There’s still fight in them, son,” said Perry. “I reckon more now than ever. They didn’t have much in the way of supplies, and they all looked hungry and tired.”
“They looked desperate,” I said. “Which is why we need to put a few more men on the perimeter tonight.”
“I agree,” said Perry. “You boys head back into town now and get some rest. I hate to do it, but it’s gonna be another long night for some of us.”
Stevenson was alive with activity as we made our way down Main Street back to the armory. We were greeted with smiles and handshakes since most of the town knew about the threat on our doorstep. For the moment, the people we were protecting felt safe. The moment didn’t last long when the refugees made their second mistake.
It was early afternoon when we heard the commotion on the street. Uncle Perry and I stepped outside to see JD and Tucker running toward us. They had been running hard for twenty minutes and needed a few seconds to catch their breath.
“They’re coming,” said JD.
“How many this time?”
“Looks like all of ‘em except the young’uns,” replied Tucker. “Twenty-two. They’ve split up into two groups coming up the trails beside the road. They’re trying to stay concealed, but there’s no doubt why they’re heading our way.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“They left everything at the boats ‘bout two miles downriver,” said JD. “They’re only carrying guns and ammo and, they’re moving pretty fast. We got about thirty minutes before they reach the edge of town.”
“What the hell are they thinking?” said Perry, lowering his head, knowing there wasn’t an answer. “We’ll meet them at the first line.”
As word quickly spread through town t
o prepare for an imminent attack, our best shooters headed for the first line. The lines were a series of concealed firing positions, trenches, and foxholes that served as rings of defense around Stevenson. If the fighting became too intense, we would fall back to the second line. The third – and last – line was downtown.
For months we had methodically removed the larger trees and thick brush from the kill zone that stretched a hundred yards out from the first line. The terrain was flat and offered little protection from our bullets. It wasn’t obvious to outsiders, but there was no place to hide once they stepped into the kill zone.
We took our positions, melted into the landscape, and waited. JD was on target with the time of their arrival. He was also on target with their formation and speed. The first line of defense was a quarter mile from town. If their only plan was to surprise us, it would be their third mistake. There wouldn’t be a fourth.
The refugees were cavalier with their movements. As they approached the edge of the kill zone, most still had their weapons at their sides or slung across their backs. They were bunched together on both sides of the road. They couldn’t have made it easier for us.
We had fifteen men on the first line with ten already positioned on the second to cover our retreat if necessary. Without a word, each man chose a target closest to him and waited for JD to fire the first round. Our scopes were dialed in, there was no wind, and the sun was high on our backs. I felt sorry for them, but not enough to stop me from doing what needed to be done.
JD squeezed the trigger when his first target was fifty yards out. Before his body hit the ground, most of our bullets found their marks and half of the invaders fell. A second volley eliminated five more, leaving two scrambling for cover behind small trees.
Our boys put the last two targets in their crosshairs, but didn’t fire. It was understood by all that when the number of invaders dropped to less than five, everyone would stop shooting except JD and Tucker. (Those two never missed and we needed to conserve ammunition.)
