After the Fall: Jason's Tale (5 page)

He steeled himself as he studied the water. It was cold, ice
cold this time of year. He looked for evidence of a shallow area as he planned
his crossing. Finally he tied a line to the travois, leaving it on the bank and
slipped down into the water. With a stick he cut to brace himself, Jason worked
his way across, leaning into the current, careful to not let his feet be swept
out from under him.

He scrambled up the bank on the far side. Now taking the
line, he looped it around a small tree and began to pull the travois. It jerked
in the current and he struggled to pull the gear across. Finally it reached the
bank and the current lessened its grip. Jason reached down and pulled it up on
the bank.

This pattern repeated itself with each crossing slowing his
progress considerably. His ribs remained painful and his fatigue increased.
Being constantly wet from the rain and the stream crossings sapped his
strength. He did not have the energy to hunt or set snares.
This is bad
,
he thought, grimly.
I need some shelter and time to heal.
He kept
steering his course to flatter ground, increasing his odds of contact.

One day, looking across the valley to the east, Jason spied
a farm house with smoke coming from the chimney.
People!
The farm was
situated on a finger of private property thrust into the folds of the national
forest.
Maybe I could stop there for a few days to recover?
In his
condition he had to take a chance. As Jason worked his way down to the valley,
the weather began to close in; the wind picked up from the east, cold and damp,
the sky thickened with clouds. As dusk approached he stopped. He did not want
to approach the house in the dark so he set up his lean-to shelter as the rain
began. That night it blew and rained harder than he could remember. There was
no hope of a fire. His structure failed to keep out the driving rain. The hours
of the night dragged on. Sleep wouldn’t come. The rain penetrated his shelter
and then his clothes. The cold seeped deep inside of him. He huddled under the
tarp and shivered through the night.

His mind drifted to Maggie, remembering the warmth of her
body in the morning when they would awake. Her scent had a sweet muskiness. He
would bury his head against her body while she sleepily wrestled with him until
they were both awake.

The grey morning brought no relief from the cold and wet.
The rain was still coming down—this was going to be a multi-day storm. As soon
as it was light enough, Jason forced his stiff body into action and gathered
his dripping gear. He slowly made his way out of the bush and through the
fields in the direction of the farm house.

The house was in good repair, no broken windows or half-open
doors. The barn looked well maintained. The hedges were trimmed. The whole
place spoke of order and productiveness. Whoever lived here took pride in their
home. Before reaching the farm yard, he carefully circled to the front and
limped up the drive. Would they let him stay? Would they shoot him on sight?
Jason remembered that he had once rejected others from the safety of his house;
now he was the petitioner. Caution called for him to just move on, but his
injuries demanded he take a chance.

 “Hello in the house!” He called out.

A moment later there was a shout from inside, “Stop!”

Jason did as he was told. He figured that command was
accompanied by a weapon aimed at him. The rain continued to fall.

“What do you want,” the voice from inside called out.

“Just some shelter until the storm passes, maybe in your
barn?” Jason responded.

“Don’t want any strangers around, you better go.”

“Please, I know you’re suspicious but I mean no harm. I just
need a little shelter before I move on.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Hillsboro. Things aren’t good there, there’s corruption and
a shortage of food. That’s why I left.” Jason proceeded to give the voice in
the house a short version of his trek to date, leaving out the encounter with
the men in the underpass.

“I don’t want anything from you but some shelter. I’m
looking to find my own place to survive until things sort themselves out.” He
wondered how long that would be as he spoke the words.

There was some muffled conversation inside. Jason stood in
the mud and rain and now began to shiver uncontrollably. He continued, hoping
to strengthen the discussion in his favor, “I can help you with any repairs if
I can stay a few days. I think I will prove to be helpful. Then I’ll be on my
way.”

“You got any weapons on you?” The voice from inside called
out.

“Of course. A rifle, pistol and bow and arrows for hunting,”
Jason replied.

“You’ll have to turn them over if you want to stay,” came
the reply.

Jason looked down and thought for some moments. How could he
get past that objection? He looked up at the house, “I can’t give them up.
They’re the tools I need to survive. I’ve approached you openly, not like
someone trying to steal from you or attack you. That should count for
something. Look, it’s raining hard, I’m cold and wet…and injured.”

After a pause the man in the house replied, “Let me see that
your weapons are empty, then you can hang them on the porch. I won’t take them.
They’ll be out of the rain and in plain sight. You can take them back when you
leave.”

Jason thought for a moment. This was the best offer he was
going to get. “Fair enough,” he replied. Trying to ignore how cold and wet he
was, he slowly unstrapped his rifle; it had no clip and he pulled the charging
lever to show no chambered bullet. Next he did the same with the 9mm. Finally
he laid the bow with its quiver of arrows on the ground next to the firearms. A
man emerged on the porch from the house with a lever action rifle held at
ready. He was stocky built, six feet tall, about 10 years older than Jason, but
rough and fit, like a man who had farmed all his life. The rifle was probably a
30-30 thought Jason. “My name’s Jason, what’s yours?” he asked in an attempt to
lower the tension.

“Sam,” the man answered, the rifle still held at ready, not
quite pointed at Jason. “Bring your weapons to the porch, then you can head
over to the barn. The barn is dry and you can spread out your gear inside. The
sleeping should be pretty good in there.”

“I hate to ask, but is there any chance of getting something
warm to drink? I’m really cold and I’m afraid I’m becoming hypothermic.” He was
starting to shiver uncontrollably.

“Stash your gear and then come back to the porch. I’ll get
you some hot tea. There’s no coffee left.”

“Hot tea would be great, especially the ‘hot’ part,” replied
Jason with an attempt to smile. It was a joy to talk to someone who seemed
normal. Jason wasn’t sure how many people were in the house, but suspected it
was just Sam and his wife. He didn’t inquire. Sam seemed to not want to give
away much personal information.

 He headed to the barn. Inside he spread out his wet
gear to let it dry. Then he walked back to the porch. Sam must have been
watching because he met Jason at the door and handed him a large mug of
steaming hot tea along with some biscuits and jam. Jason sat down and devoured
the biscuits and sipped the tea balancing his eagerness for its warmth against
his desire to not burn his tongue. The large mug of hot liquid began to have
its warming effect and Jason’s shivers grew less intense.

“Sorry I don’t have more to offer,” said Sam.

“This is wonderful,” replied Jason, “I wasn’t expecting this
much…biscuits and jam…wow.”

“We’ve still got a good supply of jam left after the
winter,” said Sam. “Tell me more about what is going on in Hillsboro.”

Jason filled him in with more details about the shortages,
looting, martial law and the corruption he experienced.

“You had any problem with gangs up here?” Jason asked.

“Not so much, occasionally a few bad guys came around. I had
to shoot at some of them, but they didn’t have much fight in them. It got worse
as winter approached and they got more desperate and hungry. Then they
disappeared. Haven’t seen anyone yet this spring. Not sure what’s happened to
them.”

“What about your neighbors?” Jason had noticed some houses
nearby.

“One widower died last winter; caught pneumonia. We took
care of him but there was not much we could do to help” Sam replied. “The other
two couples left for Hillsboro. Now that you tell me about things down there,
it doesn’t sound like that was a good move. I’m glad we didn’t go with them.”
They were both silent for a moment.

“How did you fare through the winter?” he asked.

“We did alright. We regularly put food up—canning—so we had
supplies. We had to butcher a cow and bandits took the others. I couldn’t stop
all the rustling. We have some chickens that we keep. It was hard to save them
over the winter but we managed to keep most alive.”

“Can you still farm this spring?”

“Yep, wheat and corn,” replied Sam. “With the harvest we
keep some seed and keep the cycle going…wish we could get a couple of goats or
sheep, but they’ve disappeared. But we’ll be able to start a vegetable garden
again, that helps a lot.”

Jason decided to take a chance to learn more, “I’m guessing
your wife is inside, are there more of you, or have the two of you done all
this?”

Sam looked sharply at him, measuring him and his question.
“Yes, I have a wife. It’s just the two of us. Our kids moved away five years
ago. We haven’t heard from them since the power went out and don’t know how
they’re doing. We pray for them and hope for the best. They were raised to be
self sufficient—growing up on a farm.” Sam paused for moment, then said,
“Wife’s name is Judy. You may as well meet her. Come on inside.”

They went in the house and headed into the kitchen. The warmth
enveloped him like a soft, cozy blanket. There was a wood stove in the kitchen
and it was going strong, taking the damp out of the room. The smell of the
day’s cooking filled the air. Jason breathed in deeply, savoring the odors and
memories that they triggered. Sam introduced Judy. She greeted Jason warmly,
like a mother although she was only about 10 years older. Judy was a short but
solid woman about five foot two or three. Jason immediately felt at home and
welcome.

He recounted his trek from Hillsboro. “I fell off the side
of the mountain…I know it sounds stupid. Anyway, I rolled about two hundred
feet down and bruised or cracked a couple of ribs. I damaged the travois in the
process. It sure has been painful.”

“You have to stay until you’re healed up.” Judy said. Sam
looked at her but said nothing.

“That’s generous of you. I’ll do what I can to help out. I
don’t think anything could be as hard as pulling that broken travois with these
sore ribs.”

Sitting down and relaxing in the kitchen, Jason began
nodding off, overwhelmed by the warmth and his fatigue.

Sam smiled, “Maybe you should head out to the barn while
you’re still awake.”

Judy started to say something, but Sam gave her a look to
keep quiet. She disappeared for a few moments and returned with two wool
blankets and a pillow.
A pillow!
Jason couldn’t hold back the grin when
he saw it.

“This should help you to get a good sleep,” Judy said as she
dumped the bedding in Jason’s arms.

Sam added a poncho, “Cover the bedding, you don’t want to
get it wet.”

Thanking them, Jason took the bedding and headed back to the
barn. Once in the barn he scraped up some left over straw into a pile against
an interior stall. Then he set up a lean-to from the top of the stall to the
floor, laid down another tarp and covered that with the blankets and pillow.
Then, taking off his clothes for the first time in more than a week, he stooped
under the tarp and crawled into the nest he had created. Lying back with his
head on the pillow, Jason sighed deeply as his aching muscles began to relax
and fell into a deep sleep. Sam and Judy stayed up all night in shifts, keeping
a watch on the barn, just to be sure.

Jason slept from that afternoon through the night until the
next morning. He was awakened by the delicious smell of breakfast being cooked;
fried ham, eggs and biscuits. His stomach growled and heaved as the quick pangs
of hunger rose up. He dressed quickly and headed to the house, hoping he would
be invited in. Sure enough, when he got to the porch, Judy called out for him
to come into the kitchen. There on the table were biscuits with some canned
meat and fresh eggs.
Eggs!
Jason couldn’t believe it.

“How…?” he asked.

“Didn’t Sam tell you? We saved some hens and a rooster,”
Judy replied. “They’re worth more laying eggs than for us to eat them. It took
some work to keep them from thieves and predators, but we modified the chicken
coop to meet both challenges—lock ‘em up at night.” She said with a grin.

“We had to make a strong, lockable coop,” said Sam, coming
into the kitchen. “You should know these eggs are special, they’re free range,
very organic.”

Jason smiled. “They could be any kind of range and I’d
relish them. I never thought I would be sitting in a kitchen eating eggs after
I left my house. When you mentioned saving some chickens over the winter, I
didn’t realize you had your own egg laying operation.”

“All it takes is some hens and a randy rooster,” Sam replied
with a wink.

Judy put out the plates. Jason started to eat, then he
stopped as Judy and Sam bowed their heads and gave thanks for the meal.

Judy noticed Jason’s confusion and discomfort. “We give
thanks for every meal we eat. We give thanks for our ability to provide for
ourselves in this strange time. And now, we can give thanks for being able to
help someone who came to us in need.”

His mouth full, Jason just nodded, but he wondered how one
could keep giving thanks to God after what had happened. “Don’t you find it
hard? I mean, life has changed, our society has been ripped apart. What about
your sons? They may have not fared as well as you.”

“All the more reason to pray…for them and for others. We’re
doing well. We’ve been used to living on our own for years, but we know that
many people are not equipped so well as us. They need our prayers all the
more.”

Jason shook his head at their easy declaration of faith in
the face of such a disruption in society. It continued to rain, so Jason and
Sam spent the morning talking about the future, the farm and the work projects
where he could use Jason’s help. It was the first time since the EMP attack
that Jason had heard positive talk about the future—something more than just
survival. Later he went to the barn to rest and dry out his gear. That
afternoon Judy scrounged up some foam padding and helped Jason sew some extra
padding in strategic areas of his harness in an effort to reduce the abrasions.

The next day the weather broke. Jason’s ribs were feeling
better after two luxurious nights sleeping with a pillow and dry blankets. He
was able to move better and be of some help to Sam. Sam drew up a list of
repairs and the two men set out to work. As the days progressed and Jason
healed, he was increasingly helpful. They settled into a routine of work, talk,
and then eating in the kitchen. Jason offered to contribute some of his food,
but Judy would not allow it. “We have enough and we’ll be planting more soon.”