by David Nees
Uprising
Book 2 of Jason’s Tale
From After the Fall Series
A Novel
By
David Nees
Copyright © 2019 David E. Nees
All rights reserved
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by electronic, mechanical or any other means, without the express permission of the author.
Uprising: Part 2 of Jason’s Tale, in the After the Fall, series is a work of fiction and should be construed as nothing but. All characters, locales, and incidents portrayed in the novel are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To keep up with my new releases, please visit my website at www.davidnees.com. Scroll down to the bottom of the landing page to the section titled, “Follow the Adventure”.
You can also click “Follow” under my picture on the Amazon book page and Amazon will let you know when I release a new work.
For Carla
You give me the support, love, and space to allow these stories to come to life.
Grateful thanks for to my beta readers, Eric and Ed. Your insightful and detailed comments are always so helpful to making my work more polished and professional. I appreciate your generosity of time.
And thank you, Catherine, for your careful proofreading. So many words, so many opportunities to make mistakes, but you catch them.
Again, my cover is the work of Onur Aksoy, a gifted cover artist. You can find his other work at https://www.onegraphica.com/
Table of Contents
For Carla
Table of Contents
Uprising
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Uprising
Part 2 of Jason’s Tale
From the After the Fall series
“Shall I tell you what the real evil is? To cringe to the things that are called evils, to surrender to them our freedom, in defiance of which we ought to face any suffering.”
—Seneca, Roman stoic philosopher, 4 BC - 65 AD
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
—Edmond Burke, Irish statesman and Member of Parliament, 1729 - 1797
Chapter 1
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T he man made his way hurriedly through the shadowy streets. There were no lights to relieve the darkness; the soft glow of oil lamps illuminated only a few windows. The crescent moon and stars gave little light. Even so, he worked to keep to the shadows as he hurried along. The town was quiet, as it was most nights. He could hear an occasional pedestrian hurrying along somewhere in the dark.
The man moved close to the buildings seeking more darkness 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: “What are you doing out? Where are you coming from? Who did you meet with?” The authorities had suspicions that there was a subversive element in Hillsboro. A group of people who, although law-abiding, did not approve of the dictatorial power of those in charge, who objected to the restrictive rules and were getting themselves organized.
The man sensed he was being followed. He quickened his pace. He was taking a circuitous route to his assigned apartment. If he was not certain that he was alone, he would not return home but would instead keep moving on the streets, even if he had to walk all night, in order to protect his family. He was endangering them, but he rationalized his nocturnal outings by telling himself that he was working to create a better social order for his family. If someone were caught and was thought to be doing anything subversive, not only did they disappear, but their family might vanish as well. The disappearances did not have to be publicized. Everyone who interacted with a targeted family would know its fate. The word always got out. Don’t stand out; don’t oppose the existing rules and authorities.
A sense of panic began to grow, creating a tight knot in his stomach. His body tingled with fear, the hair on his neck bristled. He began to run. When he had gone a half block, he stopped abruptly. Did he hear footsteps suddenly stopping? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? Summoning his courage, he spun around. There were only shadows behind him. Nothing moved. He turned back, taking a deep breath and started walking again. He decided the clandestine meetings were beginning to unnerve him.
After turning a corner three blocks from his home, he thought he saw two shadowy shapes ahead in a doorway. He turned around to go back and found two large men standing at the corner. With a shock, he realized his instincts were correct. He had been followed. His knees began to buckle. He turned again and saw the shadows disengage from the doorway and start in his direction. He lurched across the street in a desperate attempt to flee. It was futile. The men moved quickly and surrounded him and he sank to the ground under their blows. Not a word was spoken. They dragged him, weakly struggling, to a waiting van. They threw him in the back and drove off down the dark streets.
Hillsboro, like the rest of the country, was still suffering from the after-effects of the electromagnetic pulse attack. Now, two years later, stability had still not been restored, and Hillsboro had not returned to normal.
The town was not completely under control. In spite of the best efforts of the civil authorities and their militia to impose martial law, there were still small numbers of outlaws operating within the city. They snuck in from outside or were residents who did not want to conform to the strict martial law imposed.
The EMP attack had destroyed electrical power, communications, and transportation th
roughout the U.S., leaving the country in a state of anarchy. The possibility of any rapid restoration was near zero. Many people had died that first year, mostly the old and sick. More waves of deaths had followed as antibiotics had run out in communities and sickness had spread from lack of clean water and proper sanitation.
There had been a massive exodus from the large cities as disease and starvation reigned. Many smaller towns, like Hillsboro, had tried to resist the influx of refugees. Those that couldn’t had soon been overwhelmed, and the anarchy that engulfed the big cities erupted, making life nearly intolerable. Towns that had been fortunate enough to be able to build barriers and resist the flow of people looking for any help they could find had avoided such a fate.
There were tense and often ugly standoffs between those lucky to be inside of a defended town and those outside. The refugees were all desperate. Some were heartbreaking: families with starving children, struggling to find scraps to eat and shelter from the weather. Some had become outlaws, desperados embracing violence or driven to it in order to gather the resources needed to survive.
No relief agencies were coming to the rescue. FEMA was not functioning. There was no group that would arrive to bring some level of order and distribute food and shelter. People were on their own. They would get no help from the federal government. And, having grown up in modern society, they were not prepared to survive without its structures of support.
Hillsboro had walled itself in. During the first year, the city’s government had directed citizens to work on dismantling houses and buildings in a perimeter around the central core of the city. Kids had been put to work extracting and saving the nails, scavenging the wiring from the buildings, and collecting anything that could be useful. The main rubble had then been used to construct a wall of sorts. It rose in a jagged fashion, six to ten feet high. It was primitive, ugly and porous, reminiscent of the barricades of the French Revolution. A cleared space grew outside of the walls, marked with concrete slabs that had been foundations and open basements now flooded with stagnant water.
Chapter 2
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J ason Richards sat on the porch of his farmhouse in the valley. He had left Hillsboro about six months after the power went out. He had seen the growing corruption, the establishment of martial law, and the abandonment of democracy. Not wanting to stay and tangle further with the increasingly corrupt authorities who had taken over, he had set out to live in the mountains, to survive alone until the crisis passed.
Loneliness had proven to be his biggest adversary, and it wasn’t until he’d found Anne and her family that his life began to turn around. He had gotten himself adopted into the struggling family and had helped them to thrive in the post-attack world. Along the way, he and Anne had fallen in love.
They had fought for their lives, defending their farm from bandits. They whole valley had fought a deadly battle with a gang run by a man called Big Jacks. Two members of the valley had been killed but they had decimated the gang and Jason had executed Big Jacks.
Life was now a rich delight for him. He had a new son, now a year old; his step daughters had developed into strong, confident young women; the oldest, Catherine, had a suitor, Lieutenant Kevin Cameron who was with the army platoon stationed in Hillsboro. Lieutenant Cameron had played a part in helping Jason get the farming in the valley restarted. With their supply of non-hybrid seeds, they could not only feed themselves but supply food to the city and still be able to set aside seed for the next year’s planting.
The valley had gotten the restored grist mill in Clifton Forge working so they could grind their grain in large quantities. If they could establish a barter economy with Hillsboro, life could begin to get back to some level of normalcy, even if it was more like the eighteenth or nineteenth century than the twenty-first.
Billy Turner hiked up the driveway of Jason and Anne’s farm, the gravel crunching under his feet. He saw Jason sitting on the porch watching him. Jason smiled and motioned for him to come up and join him. “What brings you down here?” Jason asked as Billy sat down.
“I’d like to take some of what I’ve grown…what you’ve grown in the fields I loaned you, use the grain to make some moonshine and sell it in town.”
“Billy, we talked about this before. I leased your fields for a cut of what we get for selling the produce and grains. I wouldn’t do it to supply you for making moonshine. I told you that up front.”
“I know, but it looks like a good harvest from the winter planting. I figure we could get two crops this year. We’ll have a surplus .Seems to me I can use some of that to make liquor.”
“Last year, when your dad passed away, you told me you didn’t like moonshine.”
“Don’t like drinkin’ it, but I don’t mind makin’ it, especially now if I got somewhere to sell it. It’s what I know best. Reminds me of doing it with my pa.”
“I know it’s been lonely for you since your dad died after the battle.” He gave Billy a gentle look. “But you’d rather moonshine than farm?”
Billy stared at the porch floor, uncomfortable. “That, or hunting,” he said. “I like being in the woods either way.”
“But you also know farming. Your family’s farmed this valley for generations. Isn’t that what your daddy would want you to do?”
“My family made moonshine in this valley for generations too. And my daddy was a moonshiner.” Billy’s voice took on a note of pride.
“You know my answer. Making moonshine in this valley will only bring trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Billy asked, now looking back at Jason.
“Gangs, outlaws. It will draw attention to us and can bring the wrong kind of people. Remember, if we’re trading it, we’re telling everyone about our valley.”
Billy wasn’t so sure and a doubtful expression crept over his face.
Jason continued. “Look at what we went through to get where we are. I don’t want anything to endanger what we’ve achieved, no matter how slight the risk.”
“Trading food with the outside world’s a risk,” Billy replied.
“Yeah, but that’s one worth taking. We need things the town provides and they need what we provide. It’s a natural connection.”
“So’s selling moonshine to city folk.”
“Maybe, but moonshine’s like waving meat in front of a hungry bear. And moonshine is easy to steal.” Jason sighed. “It’ll attract attention, the wrong attention. I don’t want my labor going to that.”
“Well then, from the fields I’m working. They’re my fields now that my pa’s passed.”
Jason paused, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “They are your fields now. The Turner farm is yours, no question about that.” He looked directly at Billy. “But I can’t let you start up the still. The risk to the valley is too great. Maybe after another year, if things settle down, but not now.”
Billy started to protest, but Jason went on, talking over him. “I know it doesn’t seem fair…and maybe it isn’t, but it’s the wise path, the cautious path to take right now. Maybe later, but not now, Billy.”
“It ain’t fair. It’s what I want to do and you won’t let me do it.”
“I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, even moonshining, if it’s not in this valley.”
“You know it ain’t safe to do it outside of the valley. You never know who’s going to raid you if you’re down in the flatland.”
“That’s why I don’t want it here. It could bring trouble for us.”
Billy stood up, frustrated. “I’m not sure I want to stay. I ain’t saying I’m giving up my farm, but it seems like there ain’t much for me here. Catherine and Sarah don’t want me around and there’s no one else…and I don’t think I like farming all that much.”
Billy saw Jason shrug as he started off the porch. “What you do is up to you as long as it isn’t moonshining here. I’ll help any way I can.”
Billy didn’t look back as
he headed down the drive towards the road.
Anne came out on the porch as Billy walked away. “What did he want?”
“He wants to make moonshine. I told him no. Then he said he might leave the valley.”
“To go where?”
“Maybe Hillsboro.” Jason turned to his mate. “That worries me. Hillsboro was headed in a bad direction when I left and it doesn’t seem to have gotten any better.”
“You think he’d get into trouble there? Why are we going to trade with them if they’re so bad?”
“I’m trying to head off a possible conflict. If we set up mutually beneficial trading, the town will see us as an asset.”
“And that will get them to change?”
Jason shook his head. “Probably not, but it could get them to not act against us. That may be the best we can do.” He sighed. “Anyway, trading will be good for both parties. I just hope the town sees it that way.”
He got up and leaned over to kiss Anne. “I’d like us to be able to live in peace.”
Chapter 3
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J oe Stansky waited for the two men in his new office suite. His days of operating out of the back of his strip club were a thing of the past. He had taken over the bank building in the first year after the attack. He housed his gang on the same downtown block, along with much of the resources he had gathered.
Joe stood about five feet, ten inches tall and had a thick, powerful body. The good life had put extra pounds on him but they didn’t hide his strength. He was still an imposing figure. He had eyes that looked out from under heavy lids; piercing and penetrating. They were eyes that stared hard at you, measuring and evaluating. They sharpened what was otherwise a puffy, big boned face. A life of crime and graft had honed his perceptions well and he could quickly spot phonies. He had a ruthless desire to succeed aided by a willingness to do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goals. As the de facto leader in Hillsboro, he was not a man to be trifled with.
