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

by JEFF MOTES

  I watch Mark closely. He slides the gun toward John. My eyes grow wide with fear when John unholsters the pistol, checking to see if it is loaded. Mark is just sitting there.

  I begin to pray, Dear God, reach inside John. Don’t let him fall! Please, God!

  I must help John. I reach for him with my trembling hand and touch his arm. He looks at me and I see the rage and fury in his eyes. There is nothing I can say in words. All I can do is reach out to him with my eyes. My eyes lock with his as I silently plead with him. Then a transformation seems to take place inside him. The hate subsides from his eyes. The real John, the good man, reappears.

  He holsters his pistol. “I hope your daughter can recover from what has happened to her.”

  Relief overwhelms me and my head falls to his arm. Thank You, God. Thank You for saving this good man. Thank You for bringing him from the precipice of self-destruction.

  John and Mark continue to talk. Maybe there is some hope.

  “Well, Mark, maybe you didn’t kill us after all,” John says. “If you can get me the four-wheeler and enough fuel for one hundred and fifty miles, I have the AK, an SKS, a Hi-point pistol, and these.” John reaches into his pocket and pulls out some gold and silver coins and places them on the table.

  I look up at him, amazed. He smiles and reminds me of what he’s said before. “I told you I wasn’t completely unprepared.”

  Thank You, God, for putting this man back in my life.

  Betty gets up from the table, still wiping her eyes, and I follow her to the kitchen. “God is so good,” she says. “He is so good.” We embrace each other.

  I pour a cup of coffee and add some cream, then go back to the table and see John and Mark shaking hands. As they part, I hand John the cup of coffee.

  He takes it with a smile and says, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 34

  John

  A Walk Around the Farm

  Day 6

  I let George know I can work on his generator if he needs me to.

  “There’s no problem with the generator,” he says. “We only run it eight hours a day in order to conserve fuel. From 5:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m., and from 5:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. This gives us enough run time for the freezers and allows us to do our chores around the house and farm before dark. We have enough diesel for our farm equipment and eight hours of generator usage for about a year. If fuel supplies are not available by then, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

  George stops and sweeps out his arms. “John, take a look around. Tell me what you see.”

  There are pastures, cows, a nice bird yard full of chickens, barns of various sizes, tractors and various pieces of farm equipment. There is also a large LP fuel tank, and not far from it, a diesel fuel tank. A building that looks like a pump house is around back of the house. There are some pecan trees around the house, offering shade. A postage stamp sized fruit orchard with about a dozen trees is to the south side of the house. Right outside the kitchen is a small vegetable garden with some young plants growing. There are potatoes, pole beans, squash, and other vegetables. A gravel road runs between two pastures on its way to the county road, about one quarter mile away.

  “I see quite a few things,” I answer. “I see a well-planned and organized farm. In the pastures, I see a renewable food supply with the cattle and sheep. Breakfast is in the bird yard. I see planted fields with what I’m going to assume is feed for the stock. I see the equipment and fuel supply necessary to work something on this scale. I see a dead truck, a dead car, and a dead new tractor, none of which may ever work again. What I don’t see is bacon. George, with what you have here, it looks to me you can sustain yourselves for a very long time if someone doesn’t come along and take it.”

  “We’ve considered that too,” George says. “Our community has banded together. We have manned roadblocks on the two county roads coming in, and we have a roving crew of guards. It does stretch our ability to take care of our farm needs though. I’ve been swapping hamburger for bacon with my neighbor for years.”

  When we head back for the house, George stops and places a hand on my arm. “Son, before we go in I’ve got something to say. Mark is fortunate you are a good man. I sensed you were struggling trying to decide what to do with that pistol. I thank God Jill was there to save you and Mark. You’d better not let go of that woman. Mark is going to do everything he can to get the things you talked about. I’m going to tell you, though, and you probably already know this, even with a four-wheeler, you’re going to have a very hard time.”

  “George, you and Betty are two of the nicest people I have ever met. I have a son and Jill has a daughter counting on our return. My community is much like yours here. We can only survive as a community, and as a part of that community, I must return.”

  George nods. “It’s 5:00. I better go crank the generator. Let’s meet back inside.”

  I walk into the great room where Jill and Betty are still drinking coffee.

  “Has George gone to crank the generator?” Betty asks. “When the lights are back on I want to look at how well your head is healing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He just went to do it.”

  In a few minutes the lights come back on and Betty gets her safety scissors. “Sit in the chair so I can reach your head,” she instructs. She cuts the bandage off, inspects the cut and stitches, and declares, “Everything looks good. Let’s keep it open. Tomorrow, if you are of a mind to, you can wash your hair.” She leans back and looks briefly in my eyes, then like a caring mother, gently pulls me to herself. “Thank you, son. Thank you.” She pats me on the back, then goes back into the kitchen.

  ***

  After the evening meal, George asks, “John, are you a religious man?”

  “If you mean by religious am I a Christian, then the answer is yes.”

  “I am too,” Jill says. “I don’t think I could have made it so far without God’s help.”

  “I thought both of you probably were just by the way you act,” George says. “Granted, I’ve only known you for a few days. What do you think about the events happening now? Do you think they are end time related?”

  “It could be related,” I say carefully, not wanting to get into a deep religious discussion. “Probably is related, but I don’t know for sure.” I pause for a moment then say, “What I do know is that while God leaves me on this Earth, I am going to do the best I can, with the best I have, to live,” I glance at Jill, “and help those around me live.”

  Jill’s face reddens and she smiles.

  “You know, that pretty much sums up what we all ought to be doing all along,” George says.

  I yawn widely. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to go lie down. I still feel tired and weak.”

  “You go right ahead, son,” Betty says. “You should be getting a lot of your strength back in the next day or two.”

  Returning to the bedroom, I look at my watch. It’s nearly 8 p.m. Sitting in the chair, I remove my boots, get my toothbrush from my pack, and step into the bathroom. I look in the mirror and see the wound in my head. A half inch over and that bullet would have shattered my skull and scrambled my brain.

  I whisper, “Thank You, Jesus.”

  It’s going to leave a scar. A pretty big scar, in fact. Perhaps Betty is right. Maybe my hair will conceal it as it grows out.

  I return to my side of the bed and set my pack up in front of the nightstand. I place the Glock inside, undo my belt, and start taking my pants off. As I unzip I pause, realizing this isn’t going to work. Maybe I should roll out my sleeping bag on the floor. The bed sure is a lot softer than the hard floor and my body already hurts all over. I’ll just keep my pants on and stay away from the middle. I remove my belt and zip my pants back up.

  Chapter 35

  Jill

  Jill Talks

  Day 6

  I watch John as he walks toward the bedroom. He looks tired. Betty says his strength should be returning in the next day or two. Tha
t will hopefully be about the time the four-wheeler gets here, if Mark can make the deal.

  I help Betty clean up the kitchen, then follow her to the great room. I sit in the same big chair I was in this morning, with my feet tucked into the seat. So much has happened since this morning!

  “Jill, tell me about your family,” George says.

  I tell him about Lizzy, and about my mom who’s lived with us since my dad died two months ago.

  “If it hadn’t been for my dad teaching me how to use a weapon and how to defend myself, I would have been killed on the interstate the day after the EMP. My dad saved my life, even though he’s no longer here.” I smile. “I think you would have liked my dad. He gave John his first traffic ticket in high school. He came home and told me about it and said, ‘One day that boy is going to come and thank me for giving him that ticket.’ I was pretty mad because the week before, John had come to my rescue, forcing a twelfth grade bully to leave me alone. Kathy, John’s girlfriend at the time, was right there helping me.”

  “Well?” George inquires. “Was your dad right?”

  “Yeah, actually, he was. A few months before my dad died, John came to see him and told him that ticket probably saved his life.” As I think on it, that ticket probably saved my life as well.

  I’m not going to be telling the rest of the story, though, that Dad also said, “Jill, that boy would be a good husband.”

  “So you’ve known John for a while then?” Betty asks.

  “Yes, most of my life, actually,” I reply. “John always treated me like a little sister. Always nice and kind through the years, and intervening during certain times. That bully he made leave me alone when I was in the ninth grade, well, that bully kind of made an about face after that. He was always asking me out on a date and doing little nice things. I rebuffed all his advances. His meanness was still too fresh on my mind.

  “About seven years later, I was home from college, and went to a party at a friend’s house. There was Clyde, putting on the charm. That night I got drunk for the first time, I had sex for the first time, and that night I got pregnant with Lizzy. Clyde said he wanted to do the right thing by me, and we got married. It wasn’t long before he decided a pregnant wife was not what he wanted at all. It came to a head later when we were in the Walmart parking lot one night. Clyde was having one of his yelling fits, screaming and cursing me for tricking him into getting me pregnant, saying all kinds of vile things. He knocked me to the pavement just as John drove up.

  “John is not a real big man, especially compared to Clyde, but while Kathy was helping me get up off the ground, John whipped Clyde so bad he left town. He came back not long before Lizzy was born just to deliver divorce papers. As far as I know, he has never seen Lizzy.”

  “I’m sorry, dear, you’ve had such a rough go of it,” Betty says. “What about John’s wife, Kathy? Where is she?”

  “Kathy was a very good person. She always treated me nice, kind of like a little sister too. She and John are both three years older than me. She and John got married not long after he finished college. A couple of years later, Will was born. Kathy was a good mother, she really was. She died in a car accident about two years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit her car. She died instantly.”

  “Oh dear!” Betty says. “You both have had a hard time with things. Maybe despite these terrible times, God has brought you two together for a reason.”

  “Maybe…I’m not sure. We need each other right now, and I know I can trust John to do the right thing. As to what happens when we return home, we’ll have to see.”

  George asks, “Do you two live close to each other?”

  “No, not really. I live in Jackson. Jackson is the largest town in Clarke County. John lives in a community called Repose, not far from town. I think he has some type of small farm. I’ve never been there. We do live close enough our kids go to the same school. It’s ironic, they’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  George stands. “Well, it’s after nine. I better go turn the generator off. Good night, Jill.”

  “Good night, George. I think I’m going to go lie down too. Good night, Betty.”

  I rise from the chair and go to the bedroom. John is in the bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. I can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. The only light is the faint glow of his glow stick on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I pick it up and go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I let my hair down and comb it a little. A useless gesture I know, but I feel better doing it.

  Returning to the bed, I place my Glock in my pack and empty my pockets onto the nightstand. I remove my shoes and ease into the bed, trying not to wake John. As I ease my head on the pillow, he says, “Jill, I can sleep on the floor if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

  On the floor? Is he serious? “No, John, everything is good.”

  A few moments later, John says, “Thank you for saving me earlier, at the kitchen table. I had almost forgotten who I was. A darkness had overcome me. Thank you for bringing me back to the light.”

  “You’re welcome, John. You are a good man.”

  The words of my father come to mind: …the gentle touch of a woman’s hands…

  The last thing I hear as my eyes close is the gentle but strong breathing of the man next to me.

  Chapter 36

  Jill

  A Talk in Bed

  Day 7

  I come gradually awake, listening to the morning songs of the birds outside. Maybe this is the reason John likes getting up so early, to see all this. I could probably get used to it too. I start stretching, rolling from my side to my back. Making the usual stretching moans, I swing my arms around and hit John. Startled, I see him still lying in bed. He shouldn’t be here; it must be getting late for him.

  “John, are you okay?” I ask, rolling to my side facing him.

  “I’m good,” he replies.

  “What are you still doing in the bed? Isn’t it kind of late for you?”

  “Yes, it is a little later than normal. It’s close to 7:00 a.m. I’m normally long up by now. I’ve been awake since 5:00. I’ve been lying here, thinking about the events of the past few days and what we have yet to encounter. I’ve also been thinking of Will and Lizzy. I think they’re okay, Jill. If Will follows the plan, they should be fine. Today is Thursday. Last Thursday was The Day. It’s been a week, and we’re still one hundred and fifty miles from home.”

  “John,” I start, “I’ve been wanting to ask, but things keep getting in the way. Why do you think Lizzy and Will are together?”

  “Jill, I told you this event didn’t catch me completely unprepared. I didn’t know we were going to be attacked when we were, or was even certain it would ever actually happen. If I had, I would have stayed home.” He rolls over to face me. “An interesting thing is…the project I was working on had been cancelled a month ago. The afternoon before The Day, I got a call telling me it was back on. It had to be completed on The Day.”

  I didn’t find out about my meeting in Birmingham until the night before.

  He continues, “If I had not completed that project on The Day, I would not have been there to help you. I’m really glad I was there, Jill.”

  A shudder runs through my body as I consider what John said. It’s like God was looking out for me every step of the way, making plans for my deliverance even before I left home. That thought gives me comfort and confidence that, although the road ahead will be difficult, I will make it home. I will see Lizzy and my mom again.

  “But that doesn’t answer your question,” John says. “I’ve been preparing for hard events like this for a very long time. Will has been an important part of that planning. About six months ago Will asked me that if things got really bad, if he could invite Lizzy and you to our farm, at least until things got better. I agreed, under the condition he not say anything to Lizzy about it unless something bad did happen. Well, something bad has happened, and I suspect he has probably gone lookin
g for Lizzy and you. Of course, he would ask your mother as well.”

  I lie there not knowing whether to be angry for John and his son making plans for Lizzy and me without even consulting us or to be thankful that Lizzy is probably in a safe place right now. What is he saying? Does he want me to move to his farm? Isn’t he being presumptuous thinking Lizzy and I would jump at the opportunity to move in with him and Will? But those dark thoughts fade as I remember, John has never been anything but good to me. Maybe God has been making plans for me all along.

  “We’ll see, John. Let’s get home. Then we’ll see.”

  “I think we should hold off on planning our trip back until we find out if we have the four-wheeler or not. A little later this morning, I think it would be a good idea if we inventory our supplies and packs. That way we’ll know exactly what we have.”

  “Okay. Do you think we can have coffee and breakfast first? I’m hungry.”

  “Yes, of course. I need that first cup pretty bad too.”

  I sit up and put my feet on the floor. They’re still a little sore, but nothing like a few days ago. I head for the bathroom. As I reach the door, John calls my name. I pause and look back questioningly.

  “You didn’t snore much last night.”

  “I don’t snore!” I retort, and close the door.

  ***

  When I enter the kitchen, John, George, and Betty are sitting at the table.

  “I left your plate on the stove, honey, to keep it warm,” Betty says.

  I feel the coolness of my wet hair on the back of my neck. I just had to have a shower before coming to breakfast. I feel refreshed. “Thank you,” I reply.

  At the table John holds my chair out. Smiling, I say, “Thank you.” He sits back down and I pick up on the conversation.

  “George, I can help you around the farm if you need me to,” John is saying. “My place is a lot like this. I don’t want to be a freeloader.”

  “We have everything covered,” George says. “Please don’t ever think of yourself as a freeloader. You and Jill are our guests and you need to recover your strength. If I need something, I will ask. Okay?”