Once Upon an Apocalypse: Book 1 - The Journey Home - Revised Edition

by JEFF MOTES

  Returning to the bedroom, I pull on a clean pair of undies and the clean t-shirt from my pack. Before crawling into the bed, I drop to my knees and pray.

  “Dear God, thank You for Your hedge of protection in our travels. Please continue to keep me safe and protect my mother and Lizzy. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  I crawl into the bed and lay my head on the pillow. This is the end of a very long and harrowing day. Before I can dwell over the day's terrible events, exhaustion overtakes me.

  Chapter 7

  Jill

  At Mary’s Home

  Day 2

  My eyes start to flutter when the sunlight shining through the shades falls across my face. I’m confused and disoriented, trying to remember where I am. The room is not very large, but it is nice. I see a pack against the wall. It’s like the one I keep in my car. After a few moments, my mind comes back into focus. I’m in a bed, at Mary’s house, somewhere south of Hoover on AL261. Yes, oh my, the whole world has changed.

  “Dear God,” I whisper. “Save us!”

  I start to pull the sheets off and rise out of bed. Every muscle in my body screams, “Stay in bed!” My body is stiff and sore all over from yesterday, yet I sit up and swing my legs to the floor and stand. Pain shoots through my feet and legs. I can’t believe how sore they are. My feet, my shins, and my calves hurt like crazy from all the walking. My back hurts from carrying the extra weight of the pack. My shoulders are raw from the shoulder straps. Even my breasts hurt. I lift my shirt. Yes, the underwire bra I was wearing has made it raw underneath my breasts. That is not going to be good. I force myself to take a few timid steps and start stretching. I’m still sore all over, although the stretching is limbering me up a bit.

  Stepping into the bathroom, I look into the mirror. Despite the sunscreen I put on yesterday, my face is sunburned. The sunscreen must have sweated off. It’s going to be tough with the sun hitting my face again today.

  I turn the water on. There is still a flow, though much less than last night. I wash my face and try to do something with my hair—brushing it back and putting it into a ponytail. I’ve always had long blonde hair and have suffered through all the dumb blonde jokes. Most of them are way off base. I open the pack of peanut butter crackers and the partial bottle of water. Eating the crackers to curb the rumblings in my stomach, I make the bed, sit on it, and ponder upon a plan for the day.

  I pick up my pack and set it on the bed. Oh, my, that hurts! It’s going to be a rough day! Hopefully, walking will work out some of the soreness. I pull the map out and go over my route home. I have to go through Helena, then Brantleyville, before I get to Montevallo. Should I go through Montevallo or around it? I’ll make that decision later. It’ll be at least two or three days before I can get there anyway. I’ll be hitting some smaller county roads south of Helena, but that’s probably okay. There will likely be fewer people. I’ve come to the conclusion the fewer I see, the better. Isn’t that a shame?

  Back in the bathroom I check my clothes. Everything seems dry enough, except the bottom of my pants. They are still a little damp near the bottom. Leaving them to hang a little longer, I decide to inventory my pack. The pack itself is a multi-day hunting pack purchased at Academy Sports. It's kind of cute, camouflage with pink highlights. At least I think so. Dad rolled his eyes when he saw it, just like he did with my pink IWB holster. On the outside of my pack, I have a 32 oz. stainless steel water bottle in a water carrier strapped to webbing of the pack. An emergency/tactical knife is also clipped to the pack webbing. This is one of those knives with a seat belt cutter, glass breaker, and serrated blade. Hanging on the webbing are a few aluminum D-ring snap clips and some elastic straps.

  Opening the main compartment, I start pulling the contents out of the pack. First, are the remaining empty water bottles. A total of eight bottles. At 135 pounds, with the walking I will be doing, I will need at least this much water every day. I didn't even get half that much yesterday because I shared with Mary and the kids. The gallon of water I bought yesterday is in one of those milk jug type containers that won't carry in my pack. I could use it to fill my eight bottles, then another idea comes to mind. Jumping up, ouch that hurts, I go to the bathroom and turn the water on. The water is still flowing, though even slower than a few minutes ago. Grabbing the water bottles from the bed, I rinse them out and refill them from the lavatory. I drink one of the bottles and refill it again. I’ll let Mary and Bruce keep the jug of water. There’s no way I’ll be able to carry the extra weight anyway, and I’m certainly not going to take the cart.

  Next out of the pack is my food. It's stored in a large ziplock bag. There are three complete stripped down MREs. I had four, but I shared one with Mary and the kids yesterday. There are three packs of single-serving Spam, three packs of single-serving tuna fish, three packs of peanut butter, three packs of Hardee’s grape jelly, three protein bars, and one 3600 calorie emergency bar remaining. In addition, there is another ziplock bag which contains six single-serving packs of instant coffee, creamer and sugar packets, four Emergen-C vitamin packs, four instant oatmeal packs, and some mustard and mayo packs.

  From a side pouch, I pull out my Stanley cook set, complete with lid and cups. Stored inside the cups are a little squeeze bottle of cooking oil and another of honey. Some utensils are attached to the cook cup. I’ve never had to use this cook set, but Dad insisted I keep one in my pack, and this is what was available at Walmart. I think of my dad and his desire to prepare me for unusual events. Smiling, I whisper a prayer of thanks. “Dear God, thank You for a father who insisted I prepare.”

  Next thing out is the hygiene kit. It contains travel sizes of two bars of soap, a bottle of body wash/shampoo, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a pack of wet wipes, and a razor. I hate leg hairs, but I’m not going to take time to shave my legs this morning. I set the razor to the side. In a separate lock bag is a washcloth, a roll of toilet paper, and six feminine pads. My next period is due in three weeks. I sure hope I make it home before then. In another bag are a pair of undies, socks, t-shirt, shorts, but the best thing is a sports bra. Yes! It’ll be so much better than the underwire bra I had on yesterday. I don’t even think I could wear it again today, I certainly don’t want to be braless. That creates problems of its own.

  A sleeping bag is at the bottom of my pack, underneath which is a ziplock bag containing twenty-five 9mm FMJ rounds. Dad told me to get hollow points, but they were a dollar apiece, and the FMJs were only a quarter each. I should have listened to my dad. That reminds me to reload the Glock magazine. I retrieve the magazine and remove the hollow point ammunition. The magazine is four short. That's right, I shot three times, but my mind refuses to go there for now. There is also one round still in the chamber. I load four of the FMJs, then reload the hollow points.

  In a back side pocket of the pack are a first aid kit and a mini-manual on survival and foraging, plus a hank of 550 paracord, a mini roll of duct tape, and a dozen or so zip ties. The sunscreen and hand lotion is kept in this side pouch with a Kershaw folding knife Dad gave me to keep in my pack.

  In a side compartment, I remove an Esbit stove and a dozen fuel tabs, two Bic lighters, strike anywhere matches, and an old medicine bottle with Vaseline coated cotton balls. I set one of the Bic lighters by the flashlight on the bed. In a second side compartment is a small bottle of unscented Clorox to treat water, water treatment tablets, six coffee filters, and a frontier emergency water filter.

  From another outside compartment, I pull out an LED high output flashlight that uses a single AA battery, and a larger Fenix LED flashlight that uses two AA batteries. This light has a belt holster. It was a gift from my father this past Christmas.

  Dad, I sure miss you!

  Wiping a tear, I set the Fenix light aside. Next out is a bag of spare batteries. Six AAs and six AAAs. My headlamp that uses the AAA batteries is missing. I must have taken it out sometime and didn’t put it back. I pull the emergency radio out and turn it on; nothing. It'
s dead. Removing the batteries I install two new AAs. Still nothing. I remove the batteries, put them back in the bag, and set the radio farther to the side. The EMP must have damaged it. No need carrying a useless radio. I also remove the phone charger cable and toss it over by the damaged radio. In the compartment where a water bladder would normally go is a folded 8’x10’ silver and brown tarp.

  This is all I have, plus the jerky, peanuts, and candy bars I left in the cart, to make it home on. It brings tears to my eyes. How? How am I going to make it all the way home with only this? I get back on my knees and pray.

  “Dear Father, please provide! In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  I repack my bag and get dressed, put the flashlight on my belt, the Glock in my waistband, the extra magazine in my left pocket, and the Bic lighter in my right pocket. The knife clips into my left back pocket. As soon as I’m done, there is a knock on the door.

  “It's me, Mary. Bruce is whipping up some breakfast. It will be ready soon.”

  “Thank you,” I reply. “I’ll be right down.”

  I heft the pack with a moan and head for the door.

  Chapter 8

  Jill

  On the Road Again

  Day 2

  Each step down the stairs sends needles of pain through my legs and back. The stretches I did earlier are helping, but I have never before had to walk ten miles carrying a thirty pound pack. It’s going to be tough making it home. Really tough. At the bottom of the stairs I set my pack against the wall by the front door and go to the kitchen where Mary and Bruce are.

  “It sure smells good,” I say.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Mary says. “Bruce is making eggs and bacon, and there’s a pot of hot coffee on the stove.”

  Bruce is cooking over a two-burner propane Coleman camp stove. I pick the coffee pot up and pour a cup of coffee.

  “The creamer and sugar are in the little bowls,” Bruce tells me.

  “Thanks. Only a little creamer for me,” I reply.

  I sit at the kitchen table next to Mary, and Bruce passes out plates with eggs and bacon. It smells so good and I’m starving. Bruce sets his plate down and sits. He asks the blessing, then we all dig in. It is so good.

  The kitchen is nice, with beautiful wood cabinets. There are lots of glasses and pots filled with water sitting all over the counter area.

  “That’s a good idea,” I say. “I hope my Lizzy and mom did the same.” My thoughts move to Lizzy. Baby, I’m coming home. I don’t know how, but I’m coming home.

  “Mary told me all that you did,” Bruce says. “You are an amazingly brave and resourceful woman. Thank you for bringing my family home to me.”

  “I’m not brave or resourceful. I only did what I thought I should do. That’s all.”

  “Regardless, it was a good thing,” Bruce says. “What are your plans? You’re welcome to stay with us if you want. Even if only for a few days.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t. I have to get home to my daughter and mother.”

  “Mary tells me you are from Clarke County. Isn’t that north of Mobile?”

  “Yes, about fifty miles north. I live in Jackson. It’s the largest town in the county.”

  “That's got to be close to 180 miles. Do you think you can walk all that way?”

  “I've got to, unless God sends another way. I don't know how I'll do it, but I have to do it.”

  Bruce studies me for a few minutes. It makes me a little uncomfortable. Then he says, “I see you’re determined to go. I can respect that. Given the same circumstances, I would do the same. I can promise you it’s not going to be easy. What can we do to help you?”

  “Well,” I slowly reply, “there are a few things, if you can. I need a ball cap, another light colored shirt, and a roll of toilet paper, if you could.”

  “I think we can help you with that. Anything else?”

  I think for a moment and say, “A ride home.”

  Bruce smiles, “We might be able to help with that too.”

  My eyes grow wide.

  Mary leads me to the garage and shows me three bikes. My eyes are still wide, not knowing what to think.

  “Bruce and I have been talking,” she says. “We want you to pick one of these bikes for your journey.”

  Tears form in my eyes and I pull Mary to me, hugging her close. “Thank you. You may have just saved my life!”

  “You can pick whichever one you want,” Bruce says. “I suggest you pick the red one. It’s an old style single speed and it has a large front basket you can put your pack in. What do you think?”

  I nod in agreement, walk over, and hug Bruce. “You say I saved Mary and the kids yesterday. You have saved me today. I didn’t know how I would make it home. I really didn’t. I prayed and asked God to provide and here you are giving me my life back. Thank you.”

  Bruce smiles. “Let me go over it and make sure everything is okay. I’ll check the tires and oil the chain, then it’s yours.”

  I go back inside with Mary. Emotions are still thick in the air. Picking up a pen I start writing on a notepad attached to the refrigerator door, explaining, “Mary, this is the address to my home. If you ever need to come there, please do.”

  “Thank you. Bruce says it may get really bad here. He’s making plans for us to go to north Alabama with some friends. One of his friends has an old school bus that still runs. He’s coming by tomorrow morning, so we’re going to have to start packing.”

  I ask Mary if I can go see the kids one last time. At their bedroom door I peer in. They are still sleeping. They had a tough day yesterday. I step in and gently touch their heads. Whispering goodbye, I return to the guest bedroom for one last visit to the bathroom before leaving. At the front door, I grab my pack and step out onto the porch. Bruce has the bike ready, leaning on its kickstand in the yard. I put my pack in the basket, steadying the bike to keep it from falling over.

  Bruce says, “I put an air pump in the basket. I’m sorry, but I don’t have any tube patches.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for everything.” Pushing the bike over by the cart I load the water, jerky, peanuts, and candy bars into the basket. No need to leave the water now.

  It’s 8:30 a.m. now, and I need to get going.

  “Well” I say, “I guess it’s time to leave.”

  Mary comes over with tears in her eyes, hugs me, and thanks me again. Bruce gives me one final hug. I get on the bike and start down AL261.

  As I pedal onto the highway, I observe both ways. It doesn’t appear that many people are out and about just yet. That's likely to change. My legs are sore. It's been more than a year since I’ve ridden a bike. I pedal, trying to get to that happy speed where there’s less stress on my legs. I start thinking about what Bruce said. One hundred eighty miles. With this bike, I might make it. If I can average thirty miles a day that puts me home within a week.

  Home!

  I want to be home so bad. I hope Lizzy and my mom are okay and aren’t worrying too much about me. Yet I know they are, just like I’m worrying about them. A lump forms in my throat thinking about it. I ponder the day before. The walk down the interstate. Perhaps the worst day of my entire life. No, there was one day worse, but that was long ago and I refuse to go there for now. It's been less than two days since the world changed forever. I wish there had been more time to talk to Bruce about it. I hope they make it safely to wherever they are going.

  This pedaling is tough on my legs. I can't seem to maintain that happy speed. After about a mile or so, I stop. The bike is certainly making my progress faster, but it's definitely not easier on my legs. There are people up ahead, coming toward me. I become a little wary, and decide it would be better to be moving than sitting still when they come by. I take another glance behind and start pedaling again. I pass a man and woman walking, breathe a “hello” and keep going. I stop again a little later and pull a bottle of water from my pack, take a drink, and decide to stop for a few minutes. From my first aid kit I get three ibup
rofen tablets, swallow them down, and eat a Payday candy bar.

  I keep trying to adjust the Glock on my hip. I still haven't found the sweet spot to carry it while pedaling. No one is behind me, but several are walking toward me from the front. I wonder why the traffic seems to be one way? Hmm…must be because I’m traveling faster than walking speed, so I’m getting further ahead of anyone behind. I start pedaling again. A few folks ask me to stop and talk. I respond, “Sorry, can't stop” and keep pedaling. A little further ahead, when I see no one in front or behind, I stop again. I have to take the Glock out of my waistband. It feels like it will fall out and I haven’t been able to find a place for it to ride well. It’s too big to ride in my front pocket, especially with my legs pumping up and down. I unzip the pack and place it on top. I sure hope I can get to it quickly if I need it. The pack has double zippers, so I bring each zipper up from the side and leave a small opening at the top of the pack. This might work. I practice reaching for it. It’s still a little awkward trying to get it out, but I’ve got to leave it like it is. People are up ahead, coming my way.

  There are more and more people on the road. Then I see it ahead. A roadblock. Two cars pushed across the road and men with rifles behind them. I stop, not sure what to do.

  When one of the walkers comes close I ask, “Excuse me. What's up with the cars?”

  “It's a police roadblock,” the person says, “but it's not a problem. You can go into town.”

  I approach the roadblock with some trepidation, wondering if this was a good idea. I can't remember from the map if there is another way around. It doesn't appear I have a choice.

  I roll to a stop just in front of the roadblock. A man dressed in a police officer’s uniform says, “Good morning, ma'am. What can we do for you?”

  “I’m traveling through, trying to get to Clarke County.”

  “Wow. Clarke County, that's a long ways. I used to hunt in Clarke County with a friend. That’s been a few years back. I don't guess that will be happening again anytime soon. If you're only passing through, stay on this road. There is a relief station along the way, south of the middle of town, where you can get something to eat. If you're planning on staying, ask for the relief camp, they’re setting it up now. If you're caught wandering around town with no specific business, you will be arrested. You understand?”