The Beginning at the End of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian Series (The Survivor Diaries Book 2)

by Lynn Lamb

  I really feel like we are all children when it comes to protecting ourselves on this new earth. Will we learn to adapt or continue to pretend that we can live off of what is left in the wreckage of the old world?

  There is something that gives me faith; two little girls want desperately to learn to milk goats. It sounds so trivial, but that need, that desire, is what we all need for survival.

  And as I sit on the comfortable sofa, in front of a working TV (sans cable, of course), I am doing the opposite of what I need to do for my survival, our survival. I will accept this generous gift, but I need to remember that our modern conveniences only weaken us for the future.

  I wonder if Agenia was a descendent of the Rumsen tribe. Would she be able to live off the land, like we hope to? Would she learn to grind herbs in a small hole in a boulder and turn poison oak into a medicine? Or was she just like all of us, reliant on diesel fuels and battery acid?

  I found something under the bed as I was searching earlier, trying to get a feel for the former inhabitants. It is Agenia’s journal. I can’t figure out why she would have left it in the tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere. But she did. I don’t think I will read it. I have taken enough from Agenia.

  I am sleeping alone for the first time in years, if you don’t count the hospital when I had the Sneaker Wave. There were doctors and nurses there, so I don’t count it.

  As I just wrote those words, there was a tap at the door. It was Jackson, and he was holding the alarm clock set for a time to get him out early, before he could be discovered. I know that it’s only a matter of time until we are caught. I don’t want to hurt Mark any more than I had, but it is coming. I will be glad when this hiding is over, though.

  Good night, dear Diary. Tonight, I feel the blessings of all of those women watching over me.

  January 15

  I found it hard to leave the quiet stillness of my empty cabin. Jackson left many hours ago, and I have been wandering around the small place, taking it in. I found a tea kettle to heat water for my saved MRE coffee, so I was ready to start the day.

  I was walking to the big tent for a Council meeting where we were to be joined by the MT when Sampson came skipping up to me like a giddy school boy.

  “You seem happy,” I said.

  “I am. I’m smitten,” he told me.

  “Is that so? Do tell,” I said. I had no idea what his sexual orientation was, so I was curious. I admit it.

  “Tracey,” he said.

  The previously homeless guy and the mayor’s daughter made me wonder how that was going to pan out. Will the old stereotypes and stigmas still apply? I will do my best to make sure that they won’t, but I have little control over things like this.

  “So, does she know how you feel yet?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure about that, but after everyone left for the evening, we hung out by the fire. We talked about music and what we would have done with our lives if the war hadn’t happened. We talked and talked until early morning,” he said.

  “Sounds like you had a good time. Are there any other dates in the works? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Tonight,” he said with a wink as he went to take a seat at the Council meeting.

  “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for making it to this unplanned meeting so early in the morning,” I said.

  A round of good morning greetings was returned to me.

  “So, let’s get the show on the road. The MT has asked for this meeting, so they will have the floor,” I said.

  I had no idea what I was in for. It was just as likely that they would pack up and leave us as it was for them to stay, but with demands.

  Their entire group stood behind Colonel Fitzpatrick as he spoke.

  “Thank you for allowing us to meet with you this morning,” began Fitzpatrick. “We have spent some time discussing how and where we would fit into your community. We know that there have been times in the past that you have questioned our motives, and there have been times when you have openly challenged us on what you perceived as a lack of honesty.”

  I looked over at Jackson. How could he have been involved in this discussion? He was out getting the little cabin rigged up to bring here, and he spent most of the night with me.

  Oh, they omitted him from the decision making because of me. What did they know about us? Did he know that he was being excluded from their decision making process? But he was standing with them. My mind whirled with the possibilities.

  Fitzpatrick looked over all of the Council members. I couldn’t read him. “I want to reassure you that what you perceived as clandestine tactics on our part was done for what we felt was best for the Village. We want to apologize for any misgivings that has caused.

  “We understand that there is the perception that we could have done more to prevent the Last War. We have all wished that we had found a way to do more to prevent this senseless tragedy; the destruction of our world. Each of us has spent many a sleepless night trying to think of ways we could have done things differently. I would have given my life if it would have meant changing anything.

  “As an offering of our plan to be more open in the future, we would like to share something with you this morning, and we hope that it will be seen as a positive thing. We believe that it is. There are more of us out there; military who knew what might be coming. And they did exactly what we have done with the Village. We don’t have exact numbers; we believe them to be in the thousands, but there are people who are alive all over our land today because of brave citizens like my brothers and sisters who stand behind me now. There are more military people waiting for us in the Valley who we have not told anyone about. We have not had contact with them since the last attacks, and we pray that they are still with us.

  “We hope that by telling you all of this we have made the first steps to what Laura called a ‘purposeful and mutually respectful’ way to coexist. We appreciate your offer to have our members continue on your Council. I would like to volunteer for a place on your board, as well. We have discussed it among ourselves, and we believe that I would be able to offer something new, representing those of us who did not begin this journey as Villagers. But that is up to you, and we will honor your decision.

  “Finally, we are amenable to joint meetings. We realize that there will be times when we have disagreements, but we are all here for the same purpose; the continued survival of the Village. And we would be honored to call ourselves Villagers.”

  Whoaa. I was blown over, and I could tell that the rest of the Council was, as well.

  “Thank you, Colonel Fitzpatrick. I feel certain that we will be able to work together in the best interest of our community. Welcome, as Villagers,” I said, bursting with emotions I couldn’t name.

  ∞

  Jackson found me in the cabin after the meeting concluded. He smiled, knowingly.

  “Just another way this world has changed,” I said.

  “Or something,” he replied. “You know, this is the first time I feel like we have a fighting chance at a real life. That is, if we ever find a way out of this forest.”

  “I think it’s actually rather lovely here, like the ‘Fire Swamp,’ ” I told him.

  “Sometimes I think that we speak different languages.”

  “Me, too.”

  “What’s a Fire Swamp?”

  “From the movie The Princess Bride, please tell me you’ve seen it,” I said, but I only got a blank look in return. “The Princess and her true love, Westley, who always tells her ‘As you wish,’ have to fight the dangers of the Fire Swamp, and she doubts that it is possible and he says, ‘It's not that bad in here. Well, I'm not saying I want to build a summer home here, but the trees are quite lovely.’ ”

  “Westley sounds like a wuss.”

  “Really? What am I going to do with you?” I asked him. “Changing subjects, did you know that was coming from the MT earlier?”

  “I was not included in the decision,” he said.
“I excused myself from the meetings because I am too close to the situation. And, yes, I am happy and a little bit surprised by what they had to say. I know that you have had issues with the army during all of this, but we sincerely have wanted the best for you all. And this might mean that things will go better from this day out.”

  I knocked on the wooden table I was sitting at. My superstitiousness still hasn’t eased up.

  “I actually came in to tell you that we would like you to attend a meeting in a half hour. ‘Lovely Fire Swamp’ or not, we are sitting ducks out here.”

  “They don’t end up staying in the swamp,” I yelled after him as he left the cabin.

  ∞

  Not five minutes after Jackson left, there was a knock at my door. It was Violet Earhart, former Mayor of Santa Cruz, and as of recently, a firmly entrenched Villager.

  I offered her a seat, and we went through the normal, pre-war pleasantries.

  “I have to ask you something, and I hope I am not being too forward, but are you and Colonel Jackson an item now?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I am new with your group and all, and I should probably not be so forward. What you must think of me… with my husband only being gone for six months. I am going to shut up now.”

  Why, yes. I do think you are too forward.

  I wished she would keep talking while I thought of an answer. I had not thought that anyone would ask me, so I didn’t have anything prepared to say. I understood that having a man in the post-apocalypse was a safety thing for some women. They are physically bigger and that was a plus. And here I am with two men who have declared their feelings for me. I didn’t know her well enough to trust her with the truth. So, I asked, “Are you looking for a gentleman friend?”

  “Well, yes. That’s why I asked.” I could tell she was not going to put up with me not answering her question for much longer.

  The truth was, I didn’t know what Jackson and I were. “We are close.” That was all that I was willing to reveal.

  She exhaled and thought for a moment. “I hope you decide soon, Laura. The number of eligible men around my age is few. It’s a whole new world we are facing, and doing it as a single woman is risky.”

  Could I manage without a man now?

  And how do I feel knowing that someone else is vying for Jackson’s attentions? Oh, man. I am jealous. Wouldn’t Jackson love that?

  ∞

  Today we didn’t get very far figuring out exactly how to get out of the forest. The only thing we really know is that going back to Monterey, or anywhere on the coast, is sadly no longer an option.

  We did have some good news, however. Mark was able to make contact with Lieutenant Keaton and her team of people in the Valley. Remarkably, they have chosen a compound that cannot be detected by air, or so it seems. There was no damage where we are going, but no one has an explanation as to why we lost radio contact with them for five days.

  Another positive is that when Jessica Sheraton was out with Bri on recon they found three horses wandering the hillsides. We have no idea how they stayed alive in this environment, but they are very thin and weak. Sergeant Ramirez has become our resident farm animal expert. He grew up on a farm in Iowa, and he loves our animals. Doc Riley has been trying to help with their health, even though she has no background in veterinary medicine. When they are well again, these animals will be a great addition to the new Village, if we ever find a way to get there.

  The worry about our being stuck in the middle of this forest is spreading like the Sneaker Wave. I can see the concern in the Villager’s eyes, and I can hear it in their voices. That is why I was pleased when Jessica came to me with a suggestion.

  When we were in the Village still, once a month Jessica would throw a birthday party in honor of the children who were born in that month. We were overdue for January birthdays, and she asked if she could arrange a movie night for the kids and follow it up with a dance for the adults.

  Many of us pitched in to help with decorating the big tent for the festivities. We hung lanterns, and since we didn’t have much to use for decorations, we made signs and origami with the kids.

  After supper, the children brought in their sleeping bags and set themselves in front of the big screen television donated from my cabin. The parents, both biological and adoptive (there were several of us who took in children left parentless after the war) sat behind their kids. I sat behind Bailey, who snuggled into me holding her doll. To my surprise, Mark came in and sat next to me. It felt natural to have him so close, and I was glad he made the effort for Bailey’s sake.

  When the lantern lights were dimmed, the tent took on a magical feeling as we watched Peter Pan fly over the streets of London to Neverland. The children were delighted to have a fun night together with their friends and families. It’s amazing what kids can adapt to.

  Bailey fell asleep about midway through the movie, but we didn’t move her until it ended.

  When I went to pick her up, Mark said, “I’ll get her. I assume she is still sleeping with Annie.”

  I know that he was trying to figure out my arrangement with Jackson. “Just until I get settled into the cabin,” I informed him. He lifted the sleeping child gently and headed towards Annie’s RV.

  “Laura. I know this is difficult, but I think you need to follow your heart on this,” Annie told me out of the blue, after Mark left. Had she been watching me this whole time? I wish we could find a chunk of time when we could sit down and talk. I think I need my mother’s advice on this one.

  My heart is stubborn, just like me, because the more I ask it what to do, the less it tells me.

  ∞

  The adults began to stream into the “dance.” There was iPod music played through the television and even a “refreshment” stand with a strange punch mixture with some type of alcohol in it.

  I sipped my drink while some people mixed and mingled. Having come from an all-girl school, I was not too familiar with the theory of a dance outside of a prom. So, I just stood there like a wallflower.

  “How’s the punch? I made it myself,” said Jessica.

  “Delicious,” I told her. Little white lies aren’t so bad, right?

  “Why aren’t you out there dancing? Just grab a partner and have some fun,” said Jessica. I wished that her enthusiasm was contagious.

  “Maybe after my punch,” I said.

  Jessica flitted off to meet and greet the others. I was grateful that she didn’t push me into dancing. The tent started to heat up as people came together to dance and talk and laugh with each other. That made it a bit easier for me to melt into the background.

  More surprising than Mark having joined us for the movie, was his sudden presence at the social gathering. It made me wonder if he was coming to scout for a replacement mate.

  Not a minute later, Jackson entered and began to make his rounds. He spoke and laughed with the Villagers comfortably.

  Not long after his arrival, Violet floated to his side and moved in closely to whisper in his ear. I felt a fire light my face as I threw the remaining punch down the back of my throat, almost gagging on it. Then, I made my way around the tent walls, trying to stay unnoticed. Everyone was so busy with their own fun that no one seemed to catch on to my crazy behavior.

  I saw Violet lead Jackson onto the dance floor. I guess I should have been thankful that the music was upbeat and not a slow dance where they would have to hold each other closely. I continued to peer out of the corner of my eye, trying not to look like I was watching them. Jackson smiled when Violet leaned in again to speak into his ear. My stomach churned at all of the possible things she might be saying to him, or worse, offering him.

  Mark led Jill onto the dance floor. He never got American dance moves down, unless it was a slow dance. I tried to focus on Mark and Jill rather than on Jackson and Violet, but my eyes had a mind of their own.

  I don’t know Karen Heely well, but she broke in when the song ended to have the next dance with my lover. Okay, I just used the w
ord “lover.” That word has always made me feel uncomfortable, but I don’t know what Jackson is to me.

  When Jessica jumped in for a slow dance with Jackson, I was done. I turned around to leave and nearly bumped into Mark standing next to me.

  “May I have this dance, Laura?” he asked.

  I was tempted, but instead I said, “I don’t think so, Mark. It would be too… confusing.”

  “Oh,” said Mark. “I thought you two had one of those open relationships. Sure looks like it to me. But since your face is the same color as your hair, maybe he forgot to fill you in on that part.”

  I know I hurt him badly, but his venom was painful in ways I would never have thought possible coming from him.

  “It’s just warm in here. I am going to get some air,” I said to the man whom I barely recognized as Mark.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “No, don’t you dare follow me anywhere,” I told him. I turned and slipped out of the opening in the big tent and clumsily sloshed through the snow back to my cabin.

  No wonder I didn’t go to school dances as a kid. I thought that it was because of the nuns, but they were a cakewalk compared to that experience. It was brutal.

  When I reached my cabin, I shed my coat and headed straight to the bathroom to vomit my guts up, but all that came out after the red punch was yellow bile. When had I eaten last, I wondered. I lay my head on the cool floor tiles and tried not to move while the walls of the cabin spun around me.

  “Laura, where did you go? I didn’t even…”

  When Jackson discovered me on the bathroom floor, he freaked out.

  “I’m getting the Doc,” he said.

  “No, no, no,” I told him. “It was the punch and no dinner.”

  “You actually drank that crap? What the hell, Laura? And why didn’t you eat? Jesus, woman, you are going to be the death of me.”