“Thank you. I won’t. On another note, I’d like to recommend Tommy Wilkes to you. I know he’s going to try to come around as often as he can cajole me into doing so. He wants to be a part of what I’m doing here.”
“He and Sarah are much too young if that is what you mean,” Jason responded.
“I agree wholeheartedly. I just wanted to let you know he’ll be finding reasons to come around as long as you allow it.”
“Just let him know if he hurts Sarah, or he gets her pregnant, he’ll have me to deal with.”
“I understand. He’ll be respectful. He seems very serious in his intentions. He has not allowed anyone back at camp to say a bad word about her.”
They walked back into the house to find Rodney holding the new baby. He looked up at Jason, beaming.
“You look like you’ve held a baby before,” Jason chided.
“It’s been a long while, but you don’t forget.” His hard, warrior’s exterior was softened by his moist eyes.
“I think our new baby has some built-in godparents,” Anne said. “Thank you for all your help and for listening to my husband a month ago. Look at how it has blessed us all.”
Everyone agreed. As the team assembled to leave, Jason turned to Tommy, “You can come back here as often as your officers allow. I’ll be putting you to work and I expect you to work hard. You’re welcome as long as you treat my daughters respectfully.”
“Thank you, sir!” Tommy replied with enthusiasm. Sarah beamed and Anne and Catherine smiled.
“And is Kevin allowed back?” Catherine asked Jason.
“Well, he had a hard time to convince me, but I finally told him if he was brave enough to want to spend time with the young lady who almost shot him, then I would not stand in his way.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Rodney said.
The team climbed into their Humvee and slowly drove down the drive to the road, everyone waving goodbye.
“Well?” Kevin looked at Rodney, “What do you think about this project? I think there’s a lot of good we can do.”
Rodney Gibbs was quiet as his thoughts turned to his lost family back in the Midwest. He didn’t know if he would ever see them again. And the army hadn’t accomplished much since the EMP attack, but here was promise. Here was something positive he could get a hold of. Helping here seemed like the right thing to do. It might even lead him back to his own family someday.
“Yeah, we can do some good.” He smiled.
Jason held his son in one arm with the other around Anne. As the Humvee drove down the hill, the girls moved close to Anne, him and their new baby brother. He watched the Humvee go out of sight. His thoughts drifted to Hillsboro. He had put the town in his past and now it loomed in his future, a dark cloud that could be signaling an impending storm.
Then he looked out over the beautiful valley glowing in the afternoon sun of late spring, dappled with long shadows cast from the budding trees. Such a beautiful place. Such a beautiful family.
He had not expected happiness to come out of such disaster and misery. He had been smart enough to recognize where his future belonged, and had fought hard to protect that future. He thought for a moment of Maggie, and Sam and Judy. Their memories now held no pain; they were remembered shadows from a lost past.
He turned to the present, drinking in all the details of the valley, its peace and beauty. His senses felt amplified. He breathed the fresh spring air. This is how to live going forward, in the moment: savoring every blessing and never ceasing to enjoy them.
As the family quietly held each other, looking out over the valley, Jason sensed what everyone felt. They were in the right place, and ready for this new world. Whatever it would bring, they would face its challenges.
Afterword
If you liked this story, watch for the sequel (now in progress) with the working title, After the Fall: Catherine’s Tale. The story of Jason and his family doesn’t end. They come into conflict with the town and its leadership. The narrative becomes more complicated, having to detail much of the destruction of civil society and the early attempts at rebuilding. In the story, Catherine takes an ever larger role as a mature young woman and warrior. Along with the family and the army personnel, Billy plays a part in the story and, as you might expect, he is a conflicted character. Below is a sample from the first chapter. You can follow the progress on my website, www.davidnees.com.
After the Fall: Catherine’s Tale
Excerpt
The man made his way through the dark. There we no street lights, only a few windows glowed with the soft illumination of a kerosene lamp. The crescent moon, aided by the stars gave little light to the streets. Even so he worked to keep in the deeper shadows as he hurried along. The town was quiet. An occasional pedestrian could be heard hurrying along, sometimes on a side street. The man ducked into the deeper shadows when he heard footsteps. He didn’t want to be seen; no one did. It was after curfew and, if caught out, he would be arrested with an uncertain fate in store for him. Others had been so detained and had reported aggressive interrogation often accompanied by beatings with fists and clubs.
The questions were always the same, Where are you coming from? What are you doing out? Who did you meet with? The authorities did not know for sure, but suspected, that there was a subversive element in Hillsboro; a group of people who did not like way those in charge ran things; who objected to their dictatorial style and were becoming organized.
Joe Stansky did not understand the electromagnetic pulse when it occurred, two years earlier. But he was not stupid and he was used to functioning in chaotic environments. He owned a strip club in town. It made him good money, and it also helped to launder the money he made on illegal gambling, drugs and prostitution. In addition Joe had a roving poker game that had been going on for years. It boasted a loyal clientele that included some of the town’s business leaders and politicians. Not many, but just enough to make his game off limits to the local police. The drugs and prostitution provided an even larger income flow, laundered through his reputable businesses.
Joe was powerfully built but the good life had put extra pounds on him. Though overweight and out of shape, he was still an imposing figure. He had eyes that looked out from heavy lids; piercing and penetrating. They were eyes that looked hard at you, measuring and evaluating. A life of crime and graft had honed his perceptions well and he could quickly spot phonies and liars. He had a ruthless desire to succeed reinforced by his willingness to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. He was a small town crook but the top dog in Hillsboro and not a man to be trifled with.
After the EMP burst, Joe’s first action was to contact people he knew and find out what the hell had happened, and then he sat down to figure out his next moves. He did not have a victim’s mentality. He would work this event to his advantage, and spend no time lamenting the change. This was a chance to redefine himself. If society was going to be altered, Joe decided he would alter his status as well in the new order. He would run the town. Action was called for.
The man sensed that he was being followed and quickened his pace. He was taking a circuitous route to his assigned apartment. He had come from a meeting, which if uncovered, would probably lead to his death and the death of many others. He knew his wife and child were in danger from his activities, but he rationalized that he was working to secure a better future for them. One built on freedom and democracy, not on a dictatorship. His fellow conspirators were made up of skilled men and women, engineers and technicians, who felt the town was heading in the wrong direction. They were instrumental in bringing back to life some of the elements of the modern world that had been lost after the EMP attack: electricity, clean water, medicines. But they resented the direction the town was headed. They were few in number, not all members of this class had problems with the authorities, but they were growing.
If he couldn’t shake whoever seemed to be following, in order to protect his family, he would not return home, but keep mo
ving on the streets, even if he had to walk all night. If someone was caught and thought to be doing anything subversive, not only did that person disappear, but their family did also. The fact did not have to be publicized. It would occur and everyone who knew them would know their fate. The word always got out. Don’t stand out; don’t oppose the authorities and their rules.
He turned a corner three blocks from his home and two armed men stepped out from a doorway. The man turned to run, but found two more, the one’s following him, standing there. He resolve sagged; his knees began to buckle but he lurched across the street in a desperate attempt to escape. It was futile. The men quickly surrounded him and he sank to the ground. With no words spoken, his pursuers grabbed him and dragged him, weakly struggling, to a waiting van. They threw him in the back and drove off down the dark streets.
Two days later Joe was waiting for two men in his new office suite located in a large bank building located in downtown Hillsboro. His operating out of the strip club was a thing of the past. He had taken over the bank building in the first year after the attack, housing his gang there along with much of the resources he had collected.
Frank Mason arrived first. He was the political leader of the town, head of the Safety Committee and de facto mayor. It was night, but the entrance was lit by one floodlight. There were imposing armed guards at the entrance. Everyone coming into the building was carefully frisked; no weapons were allowed except for the ones Joe’s men carried. After being checked, he was led up three flights of stairs into a private suite. The room was dimly lit by oil lamps, starkly out of place in such a modern office. There was not enough electricity to light the offices of even someone as important as Joe. The rich aroma of an expensive cigar permeated air. Joe sat behind an imposing desk and motioned for Frank to take a chair on the other side. He purposely didn’t invite Frank to sit on the more comfortable side couch.
“What’s up, Joe?” Frank asked as he sat down. He didn’t have a good feeling about the meeting from the way Joe commanded his appearance.
“Something to drink?” Joe asked ignoring Frank’s question.
“You got any whisky left? I mean some good stuff, not the crap that’s being made today.”
Joe got up and went to the cabinet on the side wall, took out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and poured Frank a couple of fingers. “No ice, but it’s supposed to be better this way.” He handed the glass to Frank. “Let’s wait for Charlie.” Charlie, the Chief of Police, was the other public face of leadership and authority in Hillsboro.
Just then Charlie Cook came through the door. “Sorry I’m late, the car I’m using…had trouble getting it running. These old cars work but they’re a pain to keep running sometimes…bad gas, I think.”
“You want a drink?” Joe asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” Charlie replied. The cigar aroma triggered Charlie’s craving and he took out one of his precious cigarettes. Joe motioned him to sit next to Frank.
After some silence as the men savored the rare bourbon, Frank again asked, “So what’s up? Why the meeting?”
Joe leaned back in his chair and looked steadily at the two men. “We’ve got Hillsboro pretty much under our control. Captain Roper is in our pocket and he’s keeping that lieutenant out of our hair. We’re getting stronger. Soon we’ll take over other towns—”
“Are you sure we should get that aggressive?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t interrupt me. My point is that it’s time for me to come out of the shadows. You’ve done your work well, but it’s time everyone sees who is really in charge.”
“Why the change?” Frank asked. “Things have been going well so far. Charlie and I present the face of civic authority to the public, you operate in the background, we consolidate our power, the people are taken care of and everyone’s happy.”
Frank had been a politician his whole life it seemed. He was a natural; adroit at maneuvering with power brokers and finding the winning side on any issue. He had consolidated his position after the attack, working with Joe and Charlie and now was the single, public persona of power and authority in Hillsboro.
“Things are not going well so far,” Joe replied.
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.
Joe gave him a disdainful look. “Two nights ago my men picked up someone for a curfew violation—”
“I didn’t see anyone brought into the jail,” Charlie said.
“I told you, don’t interrupt me.” Joe locked eyes with Charlie and stared at him until Charlie finally looked away. “The guy was an engineer. He told an interesting tale about a group of people, some of them technical people, who are not happy with things in Hillsboro.” Joe paused and sipped his whisky.
“A lot of people are not happy with things.” Frank said. “It changes day to day. There’s still a lawless group in the city. You know that. They raid the kitchens, ambush some of the militia and steal their weapons and ammunition. But you’re not suggesting there’s a revolt going on, are you? Something organized?”
“Something more is going on and I’m not about to let it become an organized revolt.” Joe responded.
“You said he was an engineer, what’s happened to him?” Charlie asked.
“That’s not a question you want to ask, Charlie,” Joe responded, again staring the hapless Chief of Police down.
After the Fall: Jason's Tale Page 28
