After the Fall: Jason's Tale (7 page)

The dark of the night gave way to a dim blue pre-dawn sky.
The sun seemed reluctant to light this sad day. With tears in his eyes, in the
half light, Jason gently carried Judy to a rock outcropping and nestled her
body there. He sat down and cried, for Judy, for Sam, for Maggie, for himself
and for all the people he knew who had lost their lives from the EMP attack. He
cried for the loss of civil society in Hillsboro and for shooting people in
ambush. And when he had cried all the tears he could cry, his mind went cold
and hard. He gathered his gear and stashed it in the rocks near where he had
laid Judy. He drank some water and ate some food. Next he checked his rifle,
the extra magazines, and his 9mm. Then he set up his firing positions; one
forward, with two retreat positions along the top of the bank cut into the
hillside. They covered the road and anyone climbing up the slope. His last
position would be in the rocks with Judy.

He expected the gang to come after him, or least a part of
them. He had killed one member and taken their captive; they could not let his
actions pass without a response. This would be a fight to the death. Jason was
not going anywhere, and he was going to take out as many as he could. His anger
dissolved any reservations about killing. If he was fortunate, he would
survive, but he didn’t care if the outcome was his death. He was not going to
be stupid—no suicide charges—he was going to be methodical. Take the sniper’s
approach. As he readied himself, the brightening day did not disperse the
darkness in Jason’s heart and mind. Fatigue left him as anger energized his
body.

Come on, you can track me, you can find me. Come on and
taste my vengeance
.

Within an hour of it getting light, Jason heard motors in
the distance.
They’ll go to the farmhouse first then they’ll find my tracks.
Don’t miss the trail. I’m waiting for you
.

Jason was about fifty yards from the switchback where he had
first spied the attack on Sam and Judy. As he waited, Jason thought about his
fascination with stalking, even as a kid. He would spend hours with friends or
by himself in the woods playing Indians. He learned to walk quietly on the leaf
bed of the forest. With a pretend rifle, he would try to sneak up on prey. When
he got old enough to hunt by himself, he practiced the same technique.

He joined the army after high school. His marksmanship
skills soon came to the attention of his officers, who encouraged him to try
out for sniper school. There his childhood skills were developed until Jason
became a deadly sniper. He was going to use all his skills today to wreak havoc
on those who had violated Sam and Judy.

The gang found the road and headed up into the mountains
towards Jason. His plan was simple. Stop the trucks by shooting the lead
driver, keep shooting as many as possible, do not let them get organized and
pinpoint his location. If he was pinned down he would crawl back to his next
shooting position and start over until they pinned him down again. He could
repeat the pattern one more time. He had some hollow point ammunition for his
rifle which he loaded into his magazines. He loaded four 20 round magazines,
one in the rifle and three in his jacket. At the relatively short distance from
which he was shooting, Jason needed only to hit a target and the person would
go down.

 The morning air was cool and still, but Jason began
sweating as adrenalin surged through him. The rumble of the engines grew
closer.

Sounds like two trucks. Probably ten to twelve men.

He waited until both trucks had negotiated the switchback
then opened fire on the lead truck. The first shot went through the windshield
and hit the driver. Jason quickly shot the second truck’s driver as well. Men
began jumping out of the back. Jason shot as fast as he could acquire a target.
The lead truck rolled back against the other and they jammed in the trail. The
gang members hid behind the trucks searching for the source of the shooting.

The firing from the trucks was wild and not well aimed.
Jason would see a rifle, often an AK47 or an AR15 variant, just held up over
the fender and fired in his general direction. Still some of the bullets began
to whistle close by. When he saw a rifle above the bed of one of the pickups,
Jason shot, rapid fire, at the wall of the bed, hoping to penetrate the sheet
metal and hit the shooter. Occasionally he heard a scream indicating he was
successful. After a few minutes, Jason slowed his rate of fire to ensure he
didn’t overheat the barrel of his rifle. One of the men made a run for the
slope on Jason’s side of the road. His shot caught him in the hip, twisting him
to the ground. His rifle flung out of his hands as he landed screaming in pain.
He tried to crawl back to cover. Jason ignored him. Two more made it to the
base of the slope where they were protected from Jason’s fire.

Can’t let any more get up against the cliff.

He paused to replace his magazine. One of the men crawled up
over the cliff, stood up and started firing in his direction. Jason, lying in a
prone position, quickly sighted him and shot him in the chest. The force of the
shot knocked him backwards to the ground with his rifle flying away from him.
The next man peered cautiously over the lip while Jason was still aiming in
that direction. Jason’s shot hit him in the face. The back of his head exploded
and he toppled back down the cliff.

Some of the gang moved out from the pickups to the woods to
their right, down-slope and across the road from Jason. They were now firing
from tree cover and had zeroed in on his location. Jason backed away from the
lip of the cliff and quickly crawled back to his second firing position. From
this new position, he could see up against the cliff on his side and confirm
that no one was attempting to climb it. There were still some men back at the
pickups, the rest were in the woods on the other side. Jason waited, motionless
with his rifle at ready. He could hear some discussion coming from the woods
but could not make out what was being said.

Patience,
he who moves first gets killed.

He waited
.
Sure enough a figure darted from one tree
to another nearby, heading in his direction. The move was too quick for Jason
to get off a shot. He waited. He did not want to expose his new position. The
next tree was farther away.
Patience
.

Then gunfire erupted from the other trees—
cover fire!
Jason kept his sights on the gap between the trees. The figure leapt out,
crouching and running; Jason squeezed off three rapid shots, the last caught
the man in the leg just as he reached the tree. He was knocked down from the
shot but managed to get behind the tree. The gunfire now turned his way, but
the shooters still did not have a good fix on him. Jason saw movement in the
brush as one of the shooters attempted to get into a better position. He fired
a burst of rounds into the brush and heard screams. A third gunman in the woods
melted back further into the trees and headed for trucks.

While Jason was concentrating on the gunmen in the woods,
two men back at the pickups crawled into the cab of the rearmost truck and got
it started. They backed it up in a flurry of dirt. Jason fired off some rounds
at the retreating vehicle, but then stopped. He did not want to waste
ammunition. The man in the woods screamed for the truck, running through the
trees to intercept it as it headed down the mountain.

Jason rolled over on his back; it was over. He was drenched
in sweat. He had fired forty-five to fifty rounds; his rifle was very hot. He
could hear the sounds of the wounded at the truck and in the road. He breathed
deeply, waiting for his heart to stop racing. The acrid smell of gunpowder floated
in the air.

Gathering himself together, he crawled back from the edge of
the cliff.
Got to find that guy in the woods. He’s shot in the leg but still
dangerous.

Jason crawled away from the battle, parallel to the road,
until it wound around the shoulder of the slope, giving him cover. He dropped
down onto the road and, after listening for some time, took a deep breath and
sprinted across it, diving into the ditch on the other side. Protecting his
rifle from the ground meant Jason had to land on his forearms when diving for
cover.

He grunted loudly as he hit the hard dirt. “Damn, that
hurts.”

Better skinned up than shot
.

Now that the main battle was over and Jason’s rage spent, he
realized he wanted to live and was determined to not to get killed by being
careless. He put all his woodsman skills to work as he crept and crawled
towards the shooter. After gaining the downhill side of the road, he moved
further downhill, deeper into the woods, heading back towards the wounded man.
It was not the most advantageous position—down slope from your enemy—but he
guessed the shooter would expect him to approach closer to the road. He had
certainly heard Jason cross the road, whether or not he had seen him. Jason was
banking on the injured man not being able to keep silent.

As he got closer to where he thought the man was hiding, he
moved ever more slowly. What he learned as a young boy playing in the woods was
that patience won out. Do not move unless you know it will be completely silent
and you cannot be seen from a forward position. That lesson paid off as he
heard a stifled groan and a rustle. The injured man adjusted his position and
the pain caused him to make a sound. Now Jason had an approximate fix on the
enemy. He was forward and to his right, close to the road.
He adjusted his position to look uphill towards the road. He waited and
watched; there would be more sounds, he was sure. Time was not on the other
man’s side. After five minutes of waiting, as expected, he heard, and this time
saw movement, as the man adjusted his position again. He was aiming past Jason,
looking closer to the road. Slowly, slowly Jason brought his rifle to bear on
the target. It took him some careful minutes to adjust his position and make
sure he had a clear shot through the underbrush. He was not worried about small
leaves and twigs, but he did not want any saplings to make his shot go astray.
He zeroed in on his target, adjusted by inches at a time, until he felt
confident of his shot. Then he fired three quick rounds, the second and third
bracketing his first. As best he could see, through the brush, the figure
slumped to the ground.

Jason rolled back down slope and then ran crouching past the
man’s position to approach him from behind. He moved more quickly this time,
though still using the trees for cover. At last he could see the man slumped
over his rifle. Two of Jason’s shots had hit him, one below his face and one in
his upper side. He was dead and never saw his executioner.

Now he went back into stealth mode, moving towards the
truck, looking for the second shooter in the woods. He found him gravely
wounded and very weak. The bullet had torn into his shoulder and he was
bleeding profusely. His weapon was five feet away from him but he made no
attempt to reach for it as Jason approached. Jason looked at the rifle. It was
Sam’s 30-30.

He picked it up and pointed it at the man, “this is for
Sam,” he said, and he shot him in the other shoulder. At this close range the
bullet tore into his shoulder, dislocating it and ripping it open.

The man cried out. “Just wanted you to feel the bite from
the gun of the man you killed.” Jason said. The man glowered at Jason, unable
to move with both arms torn. “You did evil things to my friends and now I’m
sending you to hell.” Jason’s next shot was between the eyes.

He found two more men alive near the truck and dispatched
them with their own weapons. Then he collected the weapons and ammunition from
the bodies before searching the truck where he found more. Along with Sam’s
30-30, Jason kept two AR15 rifles and all the ammunition. They fired a .223
round, the same as his Ruger. They were good rifles. He thought it a good idea
to have the back-up weapons and the ammunition was priceless. He also took a
couple of 9mm pistols and all the 9mm ammunition he could find. Next, Jason
maneuvered the truck crosswise in the roadbed to create a roadblock for any
other vehicles trying to drive further up the mountain.

If they come back, this will slow or stop them
. He
opened the hood and took out the distributor cap and rotor and flung them into
the woods. Jason had no use for a pickup truck where he was going. He paused to
survey the scene. There were bodies around the truck, against the cliff and in
the woods. A strong smell of gunpowder still hung in the air.

It will smell worse later
. Jason, drenched in sweat,
walked back to where he had laid Judy. He still couldn’t think of her as
‘Judy’s body’.
I made them pay for what they did, Judy. Not all of them but
as many as I could.
He sat down next to her. As the adrenaline left his
system his body began to relax.

Sometime later Jason awoke with a start. He listened
carefully but heard no unusual sounds. He drank the last of his water. He knew
now what he had to do; take Judy to her husband. He gently tied some cords
around the blankets wrapped around her. After reloading the magazines, he
shouldered his rifle, picked Judy up and set out again towards the farmhouse.
Jason cut across the fields making a direct line towards the house. In about
three hours he was at the last tree line, where he had waited the prior day. It
seemed incredible that it had only been yesterday. There was no sign of anyone
at the farm and after watching for some long minutes, he approached the
farmhouse. He went in the back door and laid Judy on the kitchen table. Then he
dragged Sam’s body into the kitchen and, with some effort, hoisted him onto the
kitchen table.

At first Jason didn’t know what else to do. After thinking a
bit, he went upstairs and found the linen closet and took two sheets. Then he
went to work wrapping the bodies. He carefully crossed their hands on their
breasts and folded the sheets over them, with their heads exposed. Then he went
back upstairs to look for some personal items. It seemed fitting to place them
with their bodies. A Bible, a wedding picture, Sam’s hunting knife, some
jewelry and a cross; Jason placed them on the table with the bodies.

This is their house, this is their burial place, let this
be their funeral pyre
.

His earlier thoughts about staying on the farm were driven
by Sam and Judy—the sense of family he found with them. Now without them, it
was just another abandoned and looted farmhouse. He needed to find something
more remote. He went about collecting tinder and placed piles of it throughout
the house, starting under the kitchen table.

Goodbye Sam and Judy. You were good people. You gave me
shelter, encouragement and guidance and sent me out with kindness to follow my
own path.
He reflected on the time he spent with them. They were people who
could have made this new reality more civilized, maybe better than before. They
were brought down by the forces of barbarism that had been unleashed and it was
such a loss…tears, again, came to Jason’s eyes.

When the power went out, the world as everyone knew it,
interdependent with few people self-reliant, or even knowing what it meant to
be self-reliant, changed. And three types of people emerged. First were the
outlaws and barbarians, who society had always kept in check, if not fully
under control. They emerged with power because they were used to living outside
the law and exploiting opportunities. They were not going to build anything
good, being focused on exploitation and greed. They were the predators. Then
were the power manipulators; those who had some of the same drives as the
outlaws, but worked within the system. This group organized the citizenry and,
with no authority to restrain them, tended towards dictatorial control. Jason
had seen this happening in Hillsboro in an alliance of the police leadership,
some politicians and the criminal elements. Then there were the citizens; the
mass of the people who just wanted order and would support anyone who brought
order and took care of them—the sheep.

But Sam and Judy didn’t seem to fit into any of these groups
and neither did he, Jason thought. Maybe that was why they had to separate
themselves from the rest. Sam and Judy didn’t make it, but Jason vowed he
would, for himself and for his two friends. Maybe someday like-minded,
self-reliant people, the protectors, would come together and demand a better
future…maybe.

He took some diesel fuel and doused the tinder and went
through the house lighting it. When the piles were all lit, he left the house
and started back through the fields to his camp near the ridge. After gaining
some elevation, he turned to look back and saw, with satisfaction, the house,
now fully ablaze. It was a magnificent funeral pyre for a magnificent couple.
Then he turned and set his face to the north and began hiking.