Life After (Episode 1)

by JJ Holden

  Life After (Episode 1)

  Life After (Episode 1)

  Midpoint

  Life After

  Episode 1

  by

  JJ Holden

  Following a civil war that left the United States in ruins, the remaining few who managed to escape the Imperialistic Army and the horrors of their death camps must unite and fight to reclaim their country.

  Copyright © 2014 by JJ Holden

  jjholdenbooks.blogspot.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  A loud boom followed the flash of light and echoed through the valley. The man sat near the fireplace that contained only remnants of the winter that was a fading memory. He looked out the only window and could not see anything but darkness beyond the glass. The sound of rain hitting the tin roof joined the howls of wind and the crack of lightning that seemed never-ending.

  Too much time passed since he had seen another human being. Time slowed to a crawl as he spent day after day in solitude.

  The last time he read a newspaper, it was canvassed by the horrendous events occurring at the time. Floods, earthquakes, droughts, terrorist attacks, economic depressions, government crackdowns, concentration camps, total takeover, and eventually, total annihilation. The last headline he viewed in his old life read: “Is The End Already Here?”

  Sitting alone in his cabin, he knew the answer to that headline. There was a reason he escaped to the wilderness and survived off of the land for over two years. Unlike many unfortunate souls that perished in the collapsing civilization, he owned a large tract of land with enough trees to cloak his minuscule structure.

  Though small in size, his cabin was somewhat fortified. Having been an avid follower of current events, and a dedicated student of history, he planned in advance for a complete fallout. He hoped that his preparation was similar to an insurance policy, and not what it ended up becoming: a necessity.

  Fighting off scavengers and looters became a thing of the past, as all those who posed a threat had already perished in the particularly cruel winter. Now spring was nearing its end and summer was soon to be ushered in.

  He rose from his chair and walked towards the metal door which separated him from the brutal world. He checked the locks again, a constant habit born from having many close-calls. Once the door was checked for the countless time for the day, he walked towards the center of the cabin and stood on the frayed rug that furnished his meager dwelling. He stood at the exact spot where a trap door was located. This combination locked door led to a bomb shelter, another insurance policy, one which had yet to pay dividends.

  Inside the bomb shelter, he stored as much food and water that would fit into the small space. The food he kept consisted mostly of dehydrated meals with expiration days that spanned decades. The water was mostly rain water, which he bottled after treating it. He listened to the rain and knew that every drop that hit his roof was run into several large drums that lay outside the walls of his compound. Every drop represented moments added onto his fragile existence.

  With wet weather, water was not so much of a problem, but food was a different story. He had to do everything he could to prepare for the following winter, which meant gathering whatever berries and fruits he could find to offset his consumption of the packaged meals. Canning, once a hobby of his, now determined his survival. Gathering wood for the stove was a prerequisite for such an endeavor and also an essential asset for the winter. He also was skilled with a bow and arrow, though the population of deer had plummeted, so a fresh kill was something that only existed in his dreams. He thought of the work ahead once the wet weather had ceased.

  Another boom. This time different from the constant thunder that plagued the valley. This boom sounded closer than anything that preceded it and sounded like it was outside the front door.

  He looked at the door and waited. Then a second boom came. Frozen, he stared at the door. A third boom came and he saw the door move. Someone was at the door, and they weren’t in any hurry to leave his doorstep.

  He walked to the door and gazed through the peephole. Nobody was there. Then a fourth boom startled him and sent him backwards. Perhaps a child stood outside the door. But what if not?

  He unlocked two of the three locks and cracked the door open, leaving the chain lock in place. A boy stood on the doorstep, soaking wet with a look of utter fear splashed across his face.

  The boy’s lips parted and the sound of his defeated voice leaked out. “Help me.”

  The man stood and stared at the boy. His brown hair draped into his eyes from lack of grooming. His face was gray with the ashes that were the only remnants of his past. The man knew he must have come from the city. The city that was burned to the ground.

  To let the boy in would mean that the man would have to sacrifice many of his food supplies, and he knew that opening his sanctuary to any outsiders could put his life at risk. Yet, the more he looked at the boy, the more he pitied him. To refuse to help would ensure the boy’s fate. He would die eventually, most likely from starvation.

  He unlatched the chain lock and opened the door. Outside, he saw the candle light that poured from his cabin reflect off of the flood of water that fell from the sky.

  “Come in,” the man said.

  The boy moved his right leg with a hesitant step. Then his left foot followed, slowly, like a child learning to walk. His limbs were trembling from being soaked to the core. Water dripped from the boy as he walked into the cabin. The man closed the door and locked it. He turned to look at the boy who surveyed the cabin.

  “We need to dry you off,” the man said.

  The boy turned around and the man saw the sorrow on his face. The man knew the atrocities the boy may have witnessed. He had witnessed enough himself.

  “I will get you something dry to put on,” the man said. He walked to the other side of the cabin and retrieved a change of clothing that he knew would be many sizes too large for the boy, but certainly better than the wet rags that covered him.

  Returning to the boy, he handed him the clothing. “Here you go.”

  The man turned around to give the boy some level of privacy while he changed. He could hear the boy’s clothing hit the wooden floor with a wet thud. The sound of the boy finding his way through the dry clothing took over.

  In about a minute, the man heard the boy’s voice from behind. “Thank you.”

  The boy looked like he was being swallowed whole by the massive fabric of the long-sleeved tee shirt, denim pants, and stained white socks. The man nodded and smiled. Then he walked towards his favorite wooden chair near the fireplace. There was another chair near the wall that he pulled over and positioned near his chair.

  “Come over and have a seat,” the man said.

  The boy approached the chair hesitantly and sat down.

  “So tell me,” the man said. “Where are you from?”

  The boy stuttered some nonsensical words before he became coherent. “The city.”

  “Does this city have a name?”

  “Philad
elphia.”

  The man looked at the boy with a certain degree of skepticism. “You’re telling me you walked all the way from there? That’s nearly three hundred miles south of here.”

  “I didn’t walk the whole way,” the boy said. “There was an army train heading north and I managed to hitch a ride on that. I was at the rear end of it but then I realized where it was going.”

  The man swallowed hard. “Where?”

  “One of the camps. It almost took me along all the way there, but I managed to jump off when it slowed down. When I ran from it, I heard screaming. Then I turned around and…”

  The man waited in anticipation. Though only a few seconds passed, he couldn’t wait any longer to hear more of the boy’s story. “And then what?”

  “I saw them.”

  “Who?”

  “The people in the cattle cars. Their arms were stretched out through small windows in the cars. It was horrible. I looked in the direction they were headed and saw only darkness in the sky, though it was the middle of day.”

  “Probably smoke,” the man said.

  “Do you think it was another city on fire?”

  The man hesitated. “Probably.”

  “What happens in those camps?” the boy asked.

  The man turned to look at the inactive fireplace. He thought of all the rumors he had heard before he lost contact with everyone in the world. He turned back to the boy and shook his head. “Horrible things. Beyond imagination.”

  “Like what?”

  The man stood up and slowly walked towards the center of the room, like he was beginning to pace the floor. Then he stopped, turned around, and looked at the boy. He saw a sliver of innocence still left in him, and he didn’t want to be the one to completely annihilate it.

  “Look,” the man said. “There are certain things that you just shouldn’t know. I wish I didn’t know what I know. I’d certainly sleep better at night.”

  “Okay,” the boy said.

  “I think it’s time to get some rest.”

  The boy stood up and looked at the man. “Where should I sleep?”

  “I’ll give you some blankets and you can sleep on the rug. There’s a little bit of padding.”

  “Okay. That will be much better than the last few nights.”

  After a few minutes of rounding up some blankets, the man laid them on the ground. The boy kept his oversized clothing on as he fell asleep. The man walked around and blew out all of the candles except for one. With the last remaining candle guiding the way, he walked to his cot in the corner of the cabin, then blew it out. On his back, his eyes remained open, though he could not see anything but darkness. He listened to the howling wind and the rain that kept pelting the roof. Before long, he was asleep, but the howling continued in his dreams.

  Upon waking, the first thing the man noticed was that the boy was already up and seated in the chair nearest to the fireplace.

  The boy saw that he had awoken. “Good morning.”

  The man sat up and rubbed his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “The storm is over,” the man said. “Hard to believe that the rain lasted that long.”

  The boy shook his head. The man knew that he had suffered greatly from the amount of rain that fell. To find shelter, especially dry shelter, was difficult in the wilderness. A cave could be home to many things that most boys would not want to stumble upon. A bear. Or a newly minted cannibal.

  “Are you hungry?” the man asked.

  “Very.”

  The man thought about the cache of food in his bunker, but knew that he should save it for emergencies only. Since the wet weather had concluded, he knew it was a good time to leave the cabin and forage. Meals could also be caught, but he had not set traps in quite a while. He walked to the corner of the cabin where he kept small traps used for trapping small animals. The traps were unwieldy in his right hand, but he kept his left hand available to pick up a small basket. He handed the basket to the boy.

  “Carry this,” the man said. “We will gather whatever berries we can. I’ll set these so hopefully we can catch something for dinner.”

  The boy hung his head. “How long will this take?”

  “When was the last time you had anything to eat?”

  “I had some berries the other day. Had enough water from all the rain flooding the creeks, but not much food.”

  The man set down the traps and lifted the frayed rug to expose the trap door. A few turns of the combination wheel was all it took to unlock the door. He descended the rungs of a metal ladder into the darkness. Several minutes later, he returned with a few packages and a couple cans.

  He handed the boy a can. “Here you go.”

  The boy looked at the can like he was looking at an ancient artifact.

  “That’s cola,” the man said. “It’s a treat these days.”

  “I’ve never had one.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seven.”

  “So you probably don’t remember too much of life before.”

  “No.”

  The man wanted to ask the boy a hundred questions. Where were his parents? How did he travel such a long distance in such a dangerous region and live to tell about it? He also didn’t want to talk about the ways of the world, the horrors that surrounded the man’s unusually quiet sanctuary in the woods. Instead of upsetting the boy with questions that bring up horribly emotional answers and new information that would be equally dreadful, the man cracked open his cola and took a sip.

  “Try some,” the man said.

  The boy opened his can and some of the fizz escaped over the rim. Then he lifted the can to his lips and sipped the warm soda. A smile spread across his face.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. Are these your last cans?”

  “No, I have thousands of cans down there.”

  “Thousands?”

  “Yeah. And a lot of food. Speaking of food, here’s a nutrition bar.”

  The boy reached his hand out to accept the food.

  “Enjoy,” the man said.

  They finished their colas and food bars. The boy handed the man the empty can and watched him crush it beneath his boot.

  The man walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and retrieved a revolver. “We need to go out there. Grab that basket.”

  “Is that loaded?” the boy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever have to use it?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “On a person?”

  “Yes.”

  The boy hung his head and he trembled lightly. “You aren’t going to hurt me, are you?”

  “Of course not,” the man said. “Why would you think I would?”

  “Every man I’ve seen that has a gun has used it on someone. Even you have. You just said you have.”

  “I’ve only used it in self defense,” the man said.

  “So have all the other men.”

  “You have seen men shoot other men?”

  “Other men and women and even children my age.”

  “Where?”

  “I was traveling through the woods and heard a train. I thought I could hitch another ride, but the train was coming to a stop. I hid in a bush and watched as men with guns unloaded the cars. They made all these people line up against the woods. I saw them gunned down. They missed one of the children, and he screamed ‘why’ and they answered him.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They said ‘to protect the Fatherland from vermin like you’ and then they shot him in the head.”

  The man shook his head. “Not all men are monsters like that,” he said.

  “But they claimed self defense. You claimed self defense, too. How do I know you won’t shoot me?”

  “You will have to trust me,” the man said. “I know it’s difficult to do after all you’ve seen, but please trust that I will not harm you. I have no reason to. Those men you saw are my
enemies just as much as they are yours.”

  “Okay,” the boy said.

  The man and the boy left the cabin in search of food for the day. The traps were set and they picked whatever berries they could find. Hours passed as they searched, but they came up with very little food. On their way back, the sun began its descent and the forest grew darker and darker. Then they heard a twig snap behind them.

  The man turned around and saw a figure standing between two trees. He could see the scant light reflecting from the insignia on the soldier’s uniform.

  “I need to see your papers,” the soldier said.

  The man looked at the boy, then back at the soldier. He stayed silent, and felt for his gun.

  The soldier walked towards them. “Papers. Now.”

  The man knew that he had no such papers and from everything he had read, knew that without them, he and the boy would be apprehended. If taken into custody, their lives would be measured by the time it took to reach the death camps.

  The boy backed up slightly.

  “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” the soldier said.

  “You would shoot this boy?”

  “Defiance is not tolerated.”

  “To the point of shooting an innocent boy?”

  The soldier’s face grew red with anger. “Show me your papers immediately.”

  The man saw the same thing the boy did: the soldier lifted his assault rifle ever so slightly. The boy turned and ran.

  The soldier lifted his rifle to take aim but the man blocked his attempts to fire at the boy. A spray of bullets hit several trees to the left of the boy as he continued to flee. The man lifted his revolver and pointed it at the soldier’s head. No hesitation was made before he pulled the trigger. The soldier fell to the earth and all was silent again in the woods.

  The boy stopped cold. He turned around and walked back to where the man stood over the blood-soaked forest floor. “You saved my life,” the boy said.

  The man nodded. He knelt down next to the soldier’s motionless body and retrieved the assault rifle. “We need to hide this body. Come with me.”