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

by JEFF MOTES

  When I park the ATV John says, “You did good, Jill. I wish I had thought about letting you drive last night with the NVD.”

  “Looks like Mark’s family is here,” I say.

  “Yes, it does,” John says. He gets off the ATV, holding out a hand to help me off. He looks into my eyes; I look back into his blue eyes. Something is happening.

  “Jill, before we go in…”

  The moment and his words are lost when the kitchen door opens and George calls out, “Lunch is ready. Betty has fixed up a fine meal. Come on in and meet Mark’s family.”

  “Great,” John calls back. “We’ll be right there.”

  We grab our packs and rifles and go to the house, setting our pack inside the door and leaning the rifles against the wall.

  Mark is in the great room along with his wife and girls.

  When we step into the room, Marks says, “This is my wife Melissa, and my daughters, Karen and Lynn.” To his family, he says, “These fine people are John and Jill.”

  Before he finishes speaking Karen bursts into tears, runs over to John, and embraces him. “Thank you!” she sobs. “Thank you so much.”

  John is starting to tear up, something I’ve never seen before. In fact, everyone’s eyes are tearing. Melissa is leaning into Mark with a hand over her mouth.

  John hugs Karen tightly. “You are very welcome. You are a beautiful young lady. I hope your friends are okay too.”

  Melissa walks over and hugs my neck. “We’re so sorry for what happened, and so thankful for what your husband did for our Karen. Thank you so much.”

  The emotions are high. I find it hard to speak, but manage, “I’m so thankful that John was there. I hope everything will be okay with Karen and the others.”

  “She’s going to be okay,” Melissa says resolutely. “Karen is a strong girl, much like her father. We are truly so sorry for what happened. We really are.” Melissa cries even harder, squeezing me tight. After a few moments, she moves over to John. She looks up at him with an expression I can’t describe, puts her arms around John’s neck and pulls him down. She hugs him tight, whispering something in his ear. After a few seconds she releases him and, tears still running down her cheeks, she returns to Mark’s side.

  George clears his throat. “Why don’t we all take a minute to freshen up and then let’s come eat this fine meal while it’s hot?”

  John and I get our packs and weapons and head to the bedroom. He sets his pack and rifle next to the wall and straightens, taking a few deep breaths. I walk over and stand in front of him, then reach out and pull myself to him. We embrace each other. When my sobbing subsides, I say, “Thank you, John, for being a good man.”

  His eyes moist, John takes another deep breath and replies, “Thank you, Jill.” He hugs me close. “Let’s clean up and go eat before I fall to the floor and start bawling.”

  ***

  The meal is excellent. Pot roast, vegetables, homemade bread, and all the fixings. The mood is no longer heavy with emotion, but light with conversation, like a family gathering. As I sit here watching the interactions of each person and the gaiety of the atmosphere, I wonder if John is right about what is happening outside this enclave of family farms. True, we’ve encountered some bad people, very bad people. But here, right now, everything is normal.

  I fervently hope John is wrong. Because right here, all around me, is life, a good life. I glance up at John. This could be a perfect life. Yet something tells me this is all going to change, and soon. I feel guilty sitting here with new friends, eating a normal meal, while I know in my own town people are hungry. Reaching out, I take John’s hand and squeeze. He looks over and smiles. At least we have each other for now.

  I help Betty and Melissa in the kitchen, while the men move to the great room.

  “I have something for you,” Melissa says. She steps into the great room, picks up a bag, and returns. “Here. You and I are about the same size. I hope everything fits.”

  I open the bag and see a complete set of clothes. The pants are khaki and the shirt an earthy color.

  “I was going to give you something a little brighter, but Mark thought this color would be best. I hope you like it.”

  “Melissa, this is great. Thank you so much.” In the bottom of the bag is a ziplock bag packed with feminine pads. With a smile on my face, I glance over at John and whisper, “Thank you.”

  The best thing by far, however, is the sports bra!

  A while later I overhear John and Mark talking.

  “Mark, I don’t know how you guys are set up for security, but I hope you realize when people figure out what you have here they will be coming,” John is saying. “You need to decide now what you will do then.”

  “We’ve been discussing it,” Mark replies. “We’re pretty out of the normal travel lanes, so we are hoping we won’t get many visitors. We have some road guards at the main county road keeping people from coming in. It’s working so far.”

  John reaches into his pocket and pulls out the five silver coins Mark returned and hands them to him. “I know you used all your silver to get these items we needed. Keep these. I have more at home.”

  Mark looks up gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

  Mark and his family leave, and John and I, along with George and Betty, are on the front porch waving goodbye. The moment seems so surreal, considering what is happening not far from here.

  John checks at his watch. “It’s after 2:00. I think I’m going to try to take a nap so I can be rested for our night travels.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. I will too, but I want to talk with Betty a little more.”

  George, Betty, and I sit in the great room. I climb into the same large chair I have sat in the past few days and tuck my fee underneath me. I really like this chair. “Betty, George, I want to thank you both so much for what you have done for us. We will never forget your kindness. I know if it weren’t for you, John would be dead. You both are like my parents now and I love you both.”

  “We were glad to help, Jill,” George says. “I know you must leave, and Betty and I have been praying for you and John and your families back home. If things ever get back to some kind of normal, we would like to come see you and John at your place. John gave me his business card with his address. He also wrote your address on the back.”

  “Jill, honey, it has been wonderful having you in our home,” Betty says. “I wish things were different. Today seemed so…right. I hate to see you leave, but I know you must return home.”

  After a few more minutes of chatting I say, “I think I should try and take a nap too. I don’t know what to expect later tonight.”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” George concurs.

  When I enter the bedroom, John is lying there, his eyes closed, and he appears to be asleep. I take off my shoes off, remove my Glock, and lie down, trying not to wake him. We’re going home tonight. Tonight! I’m excited and scared at the same time. John said he thought it would take three to four nights of travel to get to Jackson. He can’t drive very fast with the NVD. His NVD is a monocular; it only covers one eye. When he’s wearing it, one eye is looking into the NVD and the other into darkness. It's probably going to give him a headache if he has to wear it for hours.

  “Dear God,” I pray, “bless us. Get us home safely.”

  ***

  I must have fallen asleep. John is still sleeping. He said he wanted to leave around 10:00 tonight, to give anyone traveling on the roads ample opportunity to set up camp and settle down. He hopes it will lessen our chances of encountering anyone on the road.

  It’s still bright outside. I lie there for what seems an eternity, but am unable to go back to sleep. I roll slightly to see John’s watch. It says 6:10. I slept for nearly two hours, but I can’t lie here any longer. I ease out of bed and head to the bathroom.

  It’s going to be a while before I’m able to have another shower, so I decide to take one last advantage while I can. Standing in front
of the mirror, I undress and rub my foot along my leg. I feel hairs, lots of hairs, a week’s worth of hairs! I can’t ever remember having this much hair on my legs. Shuddering slightly, I look in the mirror, then at the sink. John’s razor is on a hand cloth. I think about the hairs on my legs, and the single man tent.

  I reach for the razor. “Just in case,” I whisper aloud.

  ***

  The shower felt good. My smooth, shaved legs feel even better. John is gone. At least he made the bed before he left. I sit in the chair and put my shoes on. I hope I cleaned all the hairs out of John’s razor. Dad used to get mad at Mom when she used his razor. She would often say, “You’ll appreciate it later.” When she said that, Dad always stopped complaining.

  I pack all my gear up and put the Glock on my hip. I glance around the room, seeing if there is anything else I might do or pack. I told Betty I wanted to wash the towels before we left, but she insisted she would take care of it. John has all his gear packed. Everything except what’s left in the bathroom. The GPS unit is on the dresser. I walk over and pick it up. It’s falling apart. John didn’t say anything about having tested it with fresh batteries. I get four AA batteries from my pack and put them in the GPS. Crossing my fingers, I push the power button and smile when the screen lights up. Even though it has several cracks, the screen is still easy to read. Now for some duct tape. Dad used to say the only thing duct tape wouldn’t cure was the common cold. I’m fixing to find out if that’s true.

  I unroll about twelve inches and cut it off the roll with my knife, then slit it lengthwise to make two pieces. Holding the GPS together, I tightly wrap the duct tape around the seam. Turning it over, I use shorter pieces of the slit tape to secure the battery cover. Admiring my handiwork, I say aloud, “Call me MacGyver.” I turn it back on. Yes! It’s still working. I turn it off and set it on top of John’s pack. He is going to be surprised.

  ***

  Betty is in the kitchen preparing two plates of leftovers. When she sees me enter she says, “Honey, I thought you and John might want a bite to eat before you go. The coffee is fresh too.”

  “Yes, Betty, thank you. Where’s John?”

  “He’s outside loading up some things Mark brought.”

  “I’ll wait for him.”

  Betty stops what she is doing, and comes over to me. “Honey, I know it is truly a sad tale of events that have brought you two together, but sometimes God works in mysterious ways to bring us comfort. I think you and John are right for each other. I really do.”

  I smile. “Thank you, Betty. Maybe we are. We’ll have to see what happens when we get home.”

  John walks in and we both look up. “Are you two ladies conspiring against me or something?”

  “Or something,” I respond. “Come, Betty has prepared a plate for us.”

  After we eat, John says, “It’s 8:45. I’m going to take a shower and finish packing my things. I’d like to leave at 10:00, if that’s still okay with you.”

  “Yes, I’m anxious to get going. I have all my things packed. Just place your towels on the floor with mine. Betty won’t let me wash them.”

  John says, “Okay. It won’t take me long.”

  What is it with men and showers? Dad could always be in and out of the shower in the amount of time it took me to wash my hair.

  John whoops from the bedroom. I dash back and peer through the door. “What’s wrong?”

  He’s holding the GPS, grinning. “This is great. You did good, Jill. This may help save our lives.” He still has a smile on his face and is shaking his head when he goes into the bathroom.

  I return to the great room, taking my pack and Ruger with me. About twenty minutes later, John brings his pack and carbine and sets them next to mine.

  “Where’s the shotgun?” I ask him.

  “I’ve already mounted it on the ATV. I’ve loaded all the other things up as well. All that’s left are our packs, rifles, and our bottoms.”

  George walks in and hands John a package. “Some things you might find handy.”

  John opens the bag. Nodding, he says, “Yes, they might,” then closes the bag.

  Betty brings coffee for everyone. George pulls out a hand drawn map. “John, this is the sketch of how to get around Montevallo. There are quite a few turns, but all the roads have name signs. At least they did the last time I drove it a few months back, all except for this dirt road right here.” He points it out to John. “This road is a cutoff road and does not have a sign on either end. There are several logging roads spurring off of it. Stay on the main road and you’ll be fine.”

  “This is great, thanks, George. I hope we can make it past Brent before morning, but I haven’t figured how to get around it yet. This little lady right here has fixed our GPS, so I may give it a try. If I can’t find a way, we’ll wait and go through early in the morning. I don’t want to try to sneak through town during the night. They may have road guards who are jumpy.”

  John checks his watch. It seems like we’ve only been talking at the table a few minutes, yet he says, “It’s 9:45, let’s load everything up.”

  I pick up my pack and Ruger and take them out to the ATV. John straps my pack to the rear rack, then straps the Ruger crossways on top of it. He straps his gear to the front rack and hands me one of the radios. “Let’s each keep one of these on us until we make it back home, just in case.”

  Betty and George come out to the porch.

  “If you don’t mind,” John says, “I’d like to pray before we leave.” Everyone bows their heads. “Dear Heavenly Father, there is so much uncertainty and peril in our path ahead. We pray for Your protection. Give us wisdom and courage to handle the trials we must face. Please bless our families back home. Bring us safely to them. Thank You for our dear friends, George and Betty. Please bless and protect them. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” we all say.

  John mounts the ATV. I climb on behind and help him with the NVD headgear. Betty comes up and hands me two paper bags. “I packed you some lunch. The second bag has some other useful items.”

  She kisses me then hugs us both. George walks over and hugs me, and then firmly shakes John’s hand. “Be safe, son. One day we will meet again. Take good care of Jill.”

  John smiles. “Thanks, George. For everything.” Looking back at me he says, “I will do everything I can to keep her safe.” With a wave goodbye, he drives the ATV into the darkness.

  Chapter 44

  Jill

  On the Road Again

  Day 8

  John turns right at the end of the lane and continues for about two miles. He’s still trying to get the NVD situated where it won’t rub on his stitches yet remain in place. Approaching CR10, he slows down and asks, “Can you see up ahead, the campfire?”

  “No, I don’t see anything.”

  “The NVD is picking it up. We are still about a half mile away. Having a fire like they are is a bad idea. It makes them an easy target to spot.”

  I don’t see anything yet. It’s still pretty dark, with only the stars and slight cloud cover. John is approaching slowly, so as not to startle anyone there. He stops about a hundred yards away and flashes the code with a flashlight as George instructed him. Receiving no response, he flashes again. Finally, someone at the roadblock flashes back. John drives forward and flips his NVD up. There are two guards. One has a shotgun and the other a scoped bolt action rifle. The firelight dances across their camouflage clothing.

  The older of the two says, “You two must be John and Jill.”

  John nods. “That’s right.”

  “I’m Sammy. This other goofball is my son Michael. George told us to expect you.”

  “Have you seen many people walking down the road?” John asks.

  “Not many. We did see a group of six walking north about 6:00 p.m. Other than that, we haven’t seen anybody.”

  “That’s good. We’re going south so we shouldn’t encounter that group. What kind of shift are you g
uys working?”

  “We pull a 24-hour shift. We get relieved at 6:00 a.m.”

  John whistles. “Wow, that’s a pretty long shift. How do you stay awake?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Michael says, speaking for the first time. “We don’t do nothing but sit around. If we get tired, one of us naps in the car.”

  “Have you heard anything about what’s going on south of here?” John asks.

  “Those folks passing earlier today said something about seeing some militia or military looking guys driving around, but they didn’t bother anybody,” Sammy replies.

  “Well, good luck to you guys. We’re going to be moving along.”

  Sammy waves. “Safe travels.”

  John turns the ATV south on CR10. He’s driving about ten miles per hour. He says we’ll turn right about seven or eight miles ahead onto the dirt cutoff road. George said the road was to the right, just past the old Methodist church. My hands are on John’s shoulder. That’s the most comfortable position I have found, and it helps keep my chest off his back.

  John starts speaking and I lean in closer to hear him. “What did you notice about the roadblock back there?” he asks.

  “They didn’t seem to be very alert,” I say. “Maybe it’s because of their long shifts.”

  “Correct. They aren’t very alert, and you’re right, the long shift probably has something to do with it, but that’s not all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “First, the whole roadblock is set up in a bad location. It’s near the bottom of a hill; you don’t want the low ground, if you can help it. Second, the roadblock consists of one car across the road and nothing off to the sides; not a very effective block at all. Third, they have a fire going. It’s a signal to everybody around as to their location. It also hampers their ability to see in the dark. Fourth, neither of them had flashlights mounted on their weapons. Fifth, yes the lack of sleep probably made them less alert, but I bet it’s more lack of discipline than anything else. Napping in the car! Geez! The whole thing smells haphazard. They are going to be in trouble if somebody tries to get in.”