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

by JEFF MOTES

  “If I can have two cookies, that will finish me.”

  I hand John two of the cookies. I’ve just finished my first sandwich and decide to have a cookie too.

  “We’ve only come about thirty miles,” John tells me. “Taking the long way around to bypass Montevallo took a lot of time. I hope Lisa can follow the map and makes it to George’s.”

  “Me too,” I say. “She seems like a very nice person. She said to me ‘I was only going to do what I had to do.’ Do you know what she was talking about?”

  John is silent for a moment, then answers, “I do, Jill. But I can’t say it. I just can’t. Please don’t ask me to.”

  That’s weird, I think, then I realize what Lisa meant and say “Oh!” I’m glad John can’t see me blush in the dim light. “You don’t have to say, I know now.”

  “That woman has strength and courage beyond what most men have. She reminds me of you. Thanks to God’s guiding hand, she didn’t have to do what she thought she might have to.” He reaches back and squeezes my hand.

  “I asked her why her husband was taped up and she said to ask you.”

  “I have no respect for spineless men, and even less respect for spineless men who try to hamper real men. His mouth bought him a ticket to la-la land. The duct tape was her idea. He wasn’t a man, he was a male.”

  I’m glad I have a real man as a traveling companion. Thank You, God.

  “Will you help me set up the tarp?” John asks.

  “I’m your partner. Tell me what you want.” I can see his smile in the dim light.

  “You are my partner. So, partner, I’ll get the tarp, you get some paracord.”

  I dig in my pack and retrieve the paracord. “Do you think this will be enough?”

  Glancing over he says, “I think it will. If not, we can get some from my pack.” John takes the paracord and ties it to a tree about four feet up. He stretches it to another tree and shows me how to put a loop in the line so we can use it as a tension point. “Tighten it up,” he says, handing me the cord.

  I pull the cord around the tree then back through the loop in the line, pull it, and the line cinches tight.

  “Now put some hitches in the line while it’s tight. That’s it. Then tie the end off.” John unfolds the tarp. “Help me put this across the line.”

  I help him stretch it across and then tie the center grommets to the line using paracord. Next, we tie the left bottom off to some trees, pull the right side tight, then tie it off as well. John has me tie the ends using the second grommet from each end. This forms flaps for the front and back. He then gets his ground mat and rolls it out on the ground under the tarp.

  “Can you hand me the tent?” he asks.

  I get it and bring it to him underneath the tarp. He shows me how it sets up. It’s super easy. Once we have it set up, I see it’s going to be a close fit for the both of us.

  “Get your sleeping bag,” John says. I do and follow him under the tarp. He rolls my bag out in the tent. My breathing is becoming a little more difficult and my heart is beating a little faster. It’s obvious we are going to be real close in that tent, body to body close. He takes his bag and rolls it out. Next to, but on the outside of the tent!

  That little bugger was thinking of that one-man tent when he asked for the tarp! Oh, well, I needed to shave my legs anyway.

  “One of us needs to remain awake at all times to keep watch. I can take the first watch if you want me to.”

  “I’ll take the first watch. You get some rest. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks, I am tired and my eyes hurt. Keep my carbine with you. If you want to heat some water for coffee or whatever, use the Esbit stove. Let’s only build a fire when we are both awake, in case the smell draws attention. Wake me when you need a break. Good night, Jill.”

  “Good night, John. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  He laughs and pulls out a mosquito head net and puts it on. In a matter of moments, he is sound asleep.

  I decide on some coffee. I’m pretty tired myself and need the caffeine. I clean an area of leaves and anything else that might burn, and set up the stove, place a cup of water on top, and light the fuel tab. While the water is heating, I get my camp cup and open the second bag Betty gave us. It has a large ziplock bag of instant coffee and another of creamer. There are also six oatmeal and six grits single-serving packs.

  “God bless you, Betty. God bless you!”

  Time seems to drag when there is little to do. I pull out my road map to see if there is a way around Brent. There just isn’t enough detail. Maybe I can figure out how to use John’s GPS. I get it from his pack and study the onscreen instructions. I find Brent on the road overlay and begin searching for a way around. There’s a way around, but it’s going to be a big detour and add lots of miles. I don’t know how to set way points in the GPS, so retrieving my notepad and pen I begin to take notes. There wasn’t a route to the east of Brent, so I search for one to the west. It might be in the same area where the gang that attacked Lisa’s neighbors is. Better tell John about that. From AL25 to US82, passing over the north side of Brent, south onto Ingate Pass Road to Bear Creek Road appears to be the best route. Bear Creek meanders south to Dull Road, which in turn heads south to AL5 about ten miles south of Brent. John might be able to find a better route, but this might help him plot a course. If the drive is like last night, we won’t be able to get much further than the south side of Brent. I sure hope we don’t run into any more trouble along the way.

  I check around our gear and the ATV for something to do. I check the fuel in the ATV then get the fuel can from the back. Geez! The thing is heavy! I pour fuel into the tank, spilling some. Maybe this is something John should handle next time.

  I look over at John sleeping peacefully. John Carter, what is happening to us? Are we both too afraid to say?

  What is happening to Lizzy right now? Is she safe with Will back at John’s place, or are she and Mom still in Jackson, having to ward off gangs like in Lisa’s neighborhood? What about the city and county governments? Are they going to be confiscating vehicles and guns too? If they try to, there are going to be lots of dead civilians and dead police officers. I can’t imagine all the folks back home freely giving up their guns. Taking someone’s vehicle is a death sentence too. I think the sheriff and the police chief in Jackson are smarter than that. I’m not sure about the other towns. I know a couple of police officers from Thomasville from their visits to the clinic where I work as a physical therapist, but I don’t know where they stand on following orders to oppress people. What about the National Guard? There are three units in Clarke County. What are they going to be doing? Will desperate people from Mobile migrate as far north as Clarke County? There are so many unanswered questions!

  I pray, “Dear God. Please, dear God, bring us home safely. Protect our community. Thank You for Your protection. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  I know God has been with me from the beginning. The fact I’m still alive makes that evident. Without Him sending people like John and Betty into my life at the right time, I would be dead. God must have a plan for me of some kind. I look over at John again.

  Maybe God’s plan for me includes you too, John.

  A car horn startles me. It’s in the distance, but I haven’t heard one in so long. I stand and pick up John’s carbine, searching for the direction of the sound. It’s faint, but I hear it; the steady blare of a car horn. John starts to stir. He must hear it too. He sits up and stretches. Looking at me with a smile, he turns that darn iPhone alarm off! He gets up and puts his boots on.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” I say. “Why did you set an alarm?”

  “I knew I was too tired to wake on my own, and I knew you were tired too, so I set it for four hours so you could get some rest. Maybe I should have set it sooner.”

  “No, John, you shouldn’t have set it at all. Since you’re up, let me show you a route I’ve found around Brent.” I hand him the notepad. “You may find a
better route; this was the best I could find. And before I forget to tell you, Lisa is from the west side of Brent. She said their community was attacked by gangs.”

  John looks at my notes, then at me. “Did you use the GPS for this?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “You are an amazing woman, Jill Barnes. With no manual you were able to figure out how to use that thing.”

  “I couldn’t figure out how to set way points, so I couldn’t plot the course in the GPS. You’re going to have to do that if you want to use this route. And you are right, I am amazingly tired. I’m going to crawl into the nest you made for me and go to sleep. Betty gave us some instant coffee and some other things in the bag over there. Help yourself.” I crawl under the tarp and into the tent. I remove my shoes and Glock, and since I’m sleeping alone I slip my pants off and slide into the bag. I close my eyes and reality disappears.

  Chapter 47

  John

  I’ll Still Have Them When We Get There

  Day 9

  I pour the hot water Jill left into my camp cup and stir in the coffee and creamer. This truly is a wonderful gift Betty gave us. The first cup of the day is always good. I’m still tired, but not sleepy. I’m glad Jill is getting a chance to rest. She didn’t sleep much yesterday. Picking up her notepad I study the route she laid out. She figured out how to use the GPS on her own. That’s a sign of quick intelligence. It took me half an hour, with the instruction manual, before I could figure out how to make the darn thing work. I better be careful around this woman; she may outwit me. I turn the GPS on and trace out the route she selected. It does make a bypass around the west side of Brent. Still, it’s going to add a lot of miles and time. I scan the GPS highway overlay for any connecting roads to the east of Brent and find nothing as useful as what Jill has routed. I bring the map back up for the route she planned and set the way points. It’s a wonder she didn’t figure that out too. All these extra miles will probably require more fuel than we have. I’ve seen a quite a few abandoned cars along the way and may be able to get fuel from others along our route. I would have stopped last night and tried a few cars except I didn’t have anywhere to store the gas. After I refuel the ATV, I can siphon fuel into the partial full can.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do if Jill parts ways with me when we arrive back home. I’ve grown attached to her. There has to be something more, but not now. Right now could get us both killed. Maybe when we get home, if she’ll have me. I just don’t know. I can’t let my mind and emotions get cluttered right now. Too much depends upon being able to focus and think clearly. Jill needs to get home to Lizzy and her mom. I need to get home to Will, my father, and my community. I really hope she’ll come with me, but not like this. I won’t be able to handle this tension back home. It has taken all my willpower to refrain from reaching for her. I’ve got to get her home safely. That thought, and that thought alone, has enabled me to keep myself in check.

  I walk over to the ATV and remove one of the fuel cans. It feels light. Something’s not right. I checked those cans before we left George’s and both were full. There’s a faint smell of gasoline in the air. I check for any signs of a leak, but can’t find any. There must be a pinhole in the can or something. I mark the can so I won’t fill it above its current level. It’s a wonder I didn’t smell the leaking fuel while we were driving. I take the can to the fuel tank and open the lid, and discover that the tank is full. A smile spreads across my face. That woman is a keeper. She is definitely one to ride the river with. I replace the tank cap and return the can to the back of the ATV.

  I pull out my solar charger and cables, get the rechargeable batteries from the NVD, and go searching for a sunny spot. I have to go all the way to the path to find a spot with enough sunlight. It’s far away from our camp, and I don’t like to leave it here, yet there’s no alternative. I set it up as best I can to conceal it, and position it to catch the most sunlight. Since the woods are so thick, it will only catch a few hours of sunlight. Still, every bit of charging, even a little bit, is better than nothing.

  Sitting at the camp, my mind starts to wander, thinking about home and the challenges that are ahead. It’s going to be tough, yet I feel confident we can make it. My subconscious alerts my mind. I’ve been hearing a sound approaching for a while, it just didn’t register on me. The sound is getting louder, and it seems to be headed for our camp. I’m alert now, all my senses concentrating on this one thing. It sounds as though there are several people walking through the leaves. I better wake Jill.

  I crawl under the tarp and open the tent. She’s laying there with the sleeping bag open. I lean over to her ear and whisper, “Jill, wake up.” I shake her shoulder. She finally starts coming around and opens her eyes. I hold my finger over my lips. “Shhh…somebody is moving toward the camp.” I glance up at her legs. “You need to get up and get dressed, quietly. I want you to be ready in case we have to take action.”

  She whispers back, “Okay,” and starts putting her pants on as I exit from under the tarp.

  The sound has stopped. Maybe they are setting up camp somewhere close by. Jill approaches by my side, her Ruger in hand. “What is it, John?”

  “Whatever it was has stopped,” I respond.

  Jill’s eyes perk up. “I hear it. There must be more than one person.”

  “Jill, let’s back away from the camp quietly.” As we start moving backwards the noise intensifies. They’re rushing the camp! “Ready yourself, Jill.” I raise my carbine. The noise is right behind the tent; now it’s coming around the side. Now…it’s…it’s an…armadillo! Jill and I both start laughing in relief.

  “Hey,” I say, “this could be supper.”

  Jill wrinkles her nose. “Really? What does it taste like?”

  “I’ve only eaten it once. It tasted like chicken.”

  Jill rolls her eyes. “John, everything tastes like chicken. Any better description?”

  “No, it’s been a long time.”

  “Okay, I’m game. Maybe we can roast it on a fire. You have to clean it.”

  “Okay, partner,” I say with a grin. I put the red dot sight on the front of the armadillo and squeeze the trigger.

  ***

  Cleaning the armadillo carcass is a first for me. I’ve never cleaned one and never seen it done. But hey, who’s watching? Jill is building the fire. She’s gathered some dry leaves and placed a vaseline cotton ball on top. She strikes her magnesium firesteel over the cotton ball. After a few strikes, the burning magnesium ignites the cotton ball. She then adds a few leaves, then twigs, then bigger sticks. Obviously, it’s not the first time she’s built a fire.

  I better get finished before she starts inspecting me butchering a butchering. The flesh of the armadillo on its back is white and I strip it out and wash it down with some water. I’m glad George gave us the six gallon jugs of water. It’s going to make things a lot easier not having to stop and treat water every day. I cut a few long, skinny tree limbs and skewer the armadillo. I glance over and see the fire is going good. Using the dry limbs like she is, the fire makes very little smoke. Jill is already setting up the sticks across from each other to hang our armadillo sticks on. Retrieving my condiment pack, I salt and pepper the “Dillo Stick” as I have decided to call it.

  “How about some grits to go with our gourmet?” Jill suggests.

  “I think that would be nice. I’ll get a couple of wheat breads. We’re going to make this into a regular meal. Maybe something to rival Mrs. Betty’s cooking.”

  Jill rolls her eyes again. “No, John, this is not going to rival Betty at all!”

  ***

  We are sitting side by side leaning against a tree. The Dillo Stick is pretty tasty, but Jill is right, it doesn’t even come close to Mrs. Betty’s cooking, not by a long shot.

  “Here it is our first dinner date, and I have treated you to gourmet not even found on the menus of the finest New York restaurants.”

  “Well,
John, it’s actually not bad, not bad at all. It kind of tastes like…chicken.” We both laugh.

  After cleaning up, I ask, “Can you rest anymore? We have a few hours before we can leave, but I would like to take the tarp and tent up before dark if we can.”

  “I’d rather you rest first,” Jill says. “If I get tired on the road I can always drool on your shoulder.”

  “Okay, I am still tired. I’ll set the alarm for two hours.”

  “Can you use anything other than the car horn?”

  “I can,” I say with a chuckle. I remove my boots and Glock and crawl back into my bag.

  ***

  It seems only a few minutes have passed when I hear a rooster crow. He crows again, then again. Then a stick hits me.

  “John, wake up and turn that rooster off. I think I liked the car horn better.”

  I turn it off. The battery is down to ten percent. I’m going to have to use the battery boost from the solar charger to charge it, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. I power the phone down. I guess if I miss any calls, they can leave a voicemail.

  I retrieve my hygiene kit and wash my face. Feeling the stubble on my chin I decide to shave. I wet my face and put the gel on, raise the razor for the first stroke, then stop, looking at it closely.

  “Jill, did you use my razor?” Her face is turning red.

  “One day you may appreciate it,” she says, then she gets up and walks away.

  I wonder what she means by that.

  Jill goes with me to retrieve the solar charger. It’s had a few hours to charge, but with the angle of the sun and the height of the trees, it’s in the shade now. I repack it in its case.

  “Jill, I checked your route and I think it’s probably the best way. I’ve set the way points in the GPS. I can show you how to do it later. About the gangs, I don’t know. Did Lisa say what time her neighbors were attacked?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “I still think the cover of darkness is our best protection right now. We’ll travel like we did last night. If we see any signs of trouble, we’ll pull into the woods.”