After The Fall Of 2012- The Complete Story With Alternate Ending (1183 hits)
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Submitted by frankthebear (View user info) at 2007-06-24 16:37:36 EDT
Well gang, here it is. All 74 pages of it. For those of you who read the story and liked it, this is for you. For the rest, eat shit and blow bubbles.
What follows is the complete story with several important revisions. Some things have been added, some things have been moved around, and some things have been removed. Also I've finally gotten around to adding the alternate ending I promised.
So here it is, dear reader, for better or worse.
Enjoy!
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After The Fall Of 2012
I've been alone for a long time. It must have been at least seven months since I've seen another person. He was a wanderer like me. We camped out together in a ruined cellar talking about the old days. He had been a third grade school teacher. He said he missed all the happy children. I couldn't think of anything to say. He talked for hours about the smiling faces and the youthful enthusiasm. When it was my turn to talk about myself, I found there wasn't much to say. I had been a drifter of sorts, like now, never holding a job for very long, never finding any kind of job where I fit.
The next morning, before we parted ways, he asked me how I was dealing with being on my own. I told him I was doing okay, I had just visited friends a couple of weeks ago. He told me I was the first person he had seen in about a year, and if I ever found myself alone as long as he had been, I should keep a journal to keep my thoughts in order. It was good advice and I thanked him as I shook his hand and watched him walk away.
And now I've been alone long enough that the silence is almost painful at night, I've decided to start a journal. Finding the paper was the hard part, but I found some in a school of all places. I had a little laugh at the irony. Well here goes.
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We thought we were so smart. We thought we were so prepared. We were wrong. The scientists were so proud of their telescopes and computers. They were confident they would see any space born threats. The government had all the nuclear weapons they could want, and enough rockets to send them anywhere. It was back in 2012 that we learned too late how ill equipped we really were.
The scientists saw it coming, an enormous meteor the size of Australia. A massive slab of rock soaring through space. It was coming straight at us, and the general consensus was to destroy it before it destroyed us first. The governments of the world worked as one for the first time ever. There was hope kindled in every heart, we would save ourselves, and we would have worldwide peace for the first time. At approximately 12:05 pm eastern, July 8th, 2012, the rockets were launched. Two thousand nuclear warheads carried the hopes and prayers of the world.
The rockets intercepted the meteor two days later. The scientists reported the total destruction of the meteor. The world celebrated for days. Then the celebration ended. There was a gross miscalculation. We were so desperate to destroy the meteor, no one considered what would happen after, and because everyone was celebrating, no one was watching the skies. The meteorites started falling all over the world. At first people thought it was pretty, then they realized it was death. Showers of burning meteorites rained all over the world. Whole cities went up in flames overnight. In the span of seven days, it was over, and the world was silent. We called it The Fall.
The first year after The Fall was the hardest for the survivors. Those who had managed to seek shelter during the catastrophe now had to survive off the ruined land. There wasn't much to go around and fighting quickly broke out. I remember the riots over food and water. All traces of humanity was gone from the peoples eyes. There was only hate and desperation. I would look down on them now, but I was one of them. I had sometimes thought I was hungry before The Fall, it would be an hour or two before dinner and my stomach would grumble a little, but now I knew what true hunger was. The constant hollow ache, the weakness, feeling myself dying slowly, so slowly. I now know what dog tastes like.
For arguments sake, since no one really knows the death toll, one might say maybe 20% of the worlds population had survived The Fall. During the first year, another 5% failed to adapt, dying in the fighting, or from sickness, or injury, or starvation, or just plain accidents. After The Fall, there were always more dead bodies to find. The survivors wandering around the ruined streets in a daze. Again, I was no different.
Imagine walking down a dark flight of stairs that you're well familiar with. You've used these stairs all your life. Suddenly you step down but the last stair isn't there anymore. You find yourself falling thought space where there had always been a sure foothold before. That was what The Fall was like, one day the world was as it always was, then it was suddenly gone.
I remember The Fall clearly. I was one of the lucky ones who found shelter in the fortified cellar of a bank. It was an old abandoned fallout shelter left over from the 50's. There were only four of us there that week. No one else was lucky enough to find our refuge. There was room for so many more... After The Fall, we emerged from the shelter and went about the business of survival.
One of the four, Stacy, died a month later. She broke a leg, and with no doctors, it became gangrenous. The other two, Wendal and Greg, went off together with a small band or survivors. They settled a small village together. I stop by once or twice a year to catch up. We stay up late every night drinking and reminiscing about the old days. They've both found their happiness. Sometimes I envy them.
Only four years after The Fall, mankind had not gotten very far. The Fall had reduced the world to the technological dark ages. The devastation had left very little that still worked or could be fixed. Small communities had gathered here and there, never with too many people. They survived by farming and raising animals. These people's whole world was in those small villages. It would mean several days of dangerous travel to the nearest neighboring village.
Roving bands of raiders still plagued the villages, sometimes taking one or two villagers with them to keep their gene pool fresh. But rudimentary civilization wasn't good enough for some. There were the wanderers, people who didn't like to settle too long in any one place. People like me.
Over the past four years, I've had several run-ins with other wanderers. Most of them are amiable enough, willing to live and let live, but there are a few who would just as soon gut you and steal your boots. I made a good friend of one of them anyway. He doesn't like to talk about Before too much, but boy can that guy drink! We even traveled together for a short time, and we had a pretty good time, so we decided to go our separate ways before we got sick of each other.
In general we all try to avoid each other, the world's a lot bigger now and there's more than enough space to go around. We wanderers have adopted a nomadic lifestyle which suits us, drifting like the breeze wherever our fancy takes us. Personally I prefer the warmer climate of the south. I always hated winter.
Surviving alone was the hardest transition at first, but as in all other things, the more I did it, the easier it got. I tried keeping a dog for a while, just for company, but I soon got tired of him. He was just another mouth to feed, and his jokes were terrible. I spent a summer with a caravan to make a little money, not that I really needed it. The trip was mostly because of the caravan master's daughter had taken quite a liking to me, and as I like sex, I took a liking to her. Inevitably her father found out and I had to leave. Quickly.
Sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive all this time. I managed to stop myself wondering "why." I once read somewhere that survivors of disasters often go through a guilt phase, wondering over and over why they survived when others "more deserving" died. After four years, I've learned that there is no fairness to life. There is no rhyme or reason, no "time to go," people just live for a while, then they die. I've made and lost many friends since The Fall, they died in different ways, and there was no preventing it. So I disconnected with the human race for a while. I wandered here and there, seeing many things, and meeting many strange and interesting people.
Once I met a cult that went on endlessly about the end of the world. How these were the end times and Jesus was coming to bring judgment to the sinners, that fire would rain from the heavens and the faithful would be called home to Glory. I politely voiced the fact that The Fall had happened four years ago, the fire had already rained down, and yet the world was still here. That if they were the truly faithful, why were they still here? I was escorted out of the village and told never to come back. Well if waiting to die makes them happy, who am I to shit in their cereal?
So I wandered some more, and my only companions were my sword and my shot gun. I've had plenty of practice with both, and I was pretty good, as many raiders could attest if they were still alive. But it's the Dregs that are the worst. The Dregs are the people who have gone feral, living like animals, totally wild. I prefer to avoid them when I can, because if they see you, they go get their pack and hunt you. Killing one or two isn't enough to discourage the others, you have to kill them all, and I just don't have the stomach for all that blood.
Before The Fall, I would have denied that I could ever kill anyone, but now it's just a fact of life. I would have been appalled, I would have said that killing after so many had died was wrong. Well maybe it is. But the world has changed a lot since then, and it's kill or be killed now. Sad really...
The Fall was the worst thing that ever happened in my lifetime, and yet, it was also the best. Before The Fall, I was always dissatisfied with the way the world worked. Politics and pollution, money, pointless laws and restrictions, too many people, Donny Osmond... Just kidding. But now for the first time in my life, I am truly free to decide the course of my life. I'm not tied down to a job, a family, bills, debts, or the laws of man. I can go where I please when it pleases me, I can do what I want when I want to: I am free. I miss my parents and siblings, my nice safe life before The Fall, but I would miss this life too. Go figure.
Anyway, my hand is starting to cramp up from all this writing, and I'm ready to get some sleep. It seems the teacher was right, the night isn't so lonely all of a sudden. Maybe I'll write some more tomorrow, if nothing else, it'll keep me from going crazy for a while. What was the old joke about how a brain is like a parachute? It only works when it's open? Yeah something like that, trying to remember and put things in order will be good exercise for the old noggin.
End of entry.
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Three weeks later...
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Someone's been trailing me for three days. I thought I had lost them in the last ruined city, but they found me again. I'm not too sure who they are, and I wasn't too interested in finding out anyway. Curiosity isn't a good trait to have in the wasteland, there are enough things that could kill you without going around looking for them. I've been wracking my brains for days trying to figure out who would want me enough to send out trackers.
Hopefully they weren't sent by the caravan master to tell me I'm the father of his daughter's baby. I'm definitely not the kind of guy to settle down with a wife and kids. As I'm writing this, I'm holed up in an old sewer tunnel. It's caved in about twenty feet back, but the open end seems stable enough. I also found the remains of a campfire near the back, so I figured it was safe, but no fire for me tonight. Even a dry wood fire will make enough smoke to be seen by moonlight.
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I remember going camping with my father and little brother. Well I suppose "camping" isn't the right word for what we did. My father had a friend who owned a small cabin on the side of Mount Kearsarge in New Hampshire. We would park the truck by the river at the base of the mountain, cross the river on foot, and hike up the old logging road for about an hour before we came to the cabin.
Apart from a wood stove, the cabin was the definition of roughing it. No power, no radio, no other lights but oil lamps and candles. Water came from the stream nearby. That was all. We'd shoot soda cans with the .22, swim in the stream, and just generally relax. My brother and I would explore around the cabin, catching newts and other various unwary critters that young boys find fascinating.
There were times since The Fall when I considered going back to the cabin, but it's a long way back to New Hampshire, and it's just too damned cold in the winter to settle on the side of a mountain in the northeast. And again, I'm not the settling type.
I guess I'll try to get some sleep.
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They found my hiding place. I heard them stumbling on the rough ground in the dark outside. I quickly gathered up my things and slipped out of the tunnel. Looks like no rest for the weary tonight. I suppose I ought to just confront them and find out what they want, but not at night, and not when there are three of them and only one of me. I passed an old SUV earlier this evening, I guess I can hide in there until morning.
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The next morning...
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The tables have turned. I've been watching my would-be hunters. I truly lost them last night, got some sleep, and headed back to the tunnel. They were camped in the sewer, lighting the fire I hadn't dared to start. Now that I've had a good look at them, I know I was right to hide from them. These are bounty hunters. They have the option of bringing in their marks dead or alive, but they usually opt for "dead." No need wasting food and water on an extra mouth on the way back, when it's just as easy to kill your target, sling the corpse over the back of a horse, and save money on supplies.
In my experience, all bounty hunters are scumbags, and they do more harm than good. There were only three of them, I could snipe them from where I was hiding since it was only about fifteen feet away, kill two and make the third tell me who had hired them and why. I unslung my shotgun and checked the safety and made sure it was loaded with slugs. I took aim and waited for one of them to move away from the others. Pretty soon one of them did. A late riser and obviously needing to take a leak, he left his boots and weapons by his bed roll as he made his sleepy way to a cluster of bushes. Perfect.
I took aim and squeezed off a shot. One bounty hunter's head disappeared in a red spray. I quickly pumped a new shell into the chamber and shot again. The second hunter fell to his knees clutching a ragged hole in the chest. The third hunter tried to run back to his guns.
"FREEZE!" I shouted. He stopped dead in his tracks. "I've got a bead on you, so don't make a move." I said, standing up and making my way cautiously down from my hiding place.
"Now you're going to tell me who hired you to find me, and why." I said.
"I-I never h-heard the guy's n-name," the hunter stammered. There was a large wet stain spreading in the front of his pants. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "We were in the town of Fireside when we saw the wanted poster in the tavern. There was a picture and a description that matches you. The poster just said to inquire at the bar. We did and we were shown into a room in the back. Whoever hired us didn't tell us anything about the job, just find you and bring you in alive."
"Well thank you very much," I said, and blew his head off. I searched the bodies and their bags and soon found what I was looking for. The wanted poster. I held it up to the light and, sure enough, there was a hand drawn picture of myself. Not too bad either. I folded it up and slipped it into my own bag. I then took their supplies and started south. It would take me about three weeks to get to Fireside from here. Someone had a lot to answer for...
End of entry.
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It's been hard to find the time to sit down and write lately. I'm still three days away from the town of Fireside, but I feel like I'm being watched and followed, even when I have a clear view all around me. I've been sleeping badly, waking up to the slightest sound, and having disturbing dreams of running from a mob of people with no faces. I hope I can find some answers in Fireside and get the bounty off my head. I'd prefer it if avoiding people was a choice, not a necessity.
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Two days later...
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I'll be in Fireside in the morning. I'll spend the rest of this evening disguising myself. Nothing too elaborate, but a shave makes a hell of a difference. At first I was reluctant to shave off my beard, clean shaven men were a comparative rarity nowadays, and it might attract more attention than some other kind of disguise. But finally I decided a clean shaven man would be less likely to be considered a filthy wanderer.
That was another part of my disguise: I had to try to clean my clothes. I usually carry no soap, in the wasteland there's no one to tell you that you smell. Luckily I found the old deserted shell of a convenience store. There wasn't much left, but after a little digging I found a few old Bic lighters that still had some fuel in them, and buried deep down, amazingly, was a box of soap. The soap was mostly destroyed by time and moisture, but there were a couple of bars in the middle that had somehow survived intact.
So now I sit here in my (kinda) clean clothes and finish this page. In a minute I'll sharpen my knife and try to shave with it. I hope I don't botch it too bad, it would be a cruel joke to have survived all this time only to end up killing myself trying to shave.
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The next morning-
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I arrived at the outskirts of Fireside fighting the temptation to keep rubbing the side of my now shaven face. I did a pretty good job considering I don't have a mirror, and the nicks had already scabbed over. As I made my way into town I was relieved to find I was not the only traveler arriving in town. There was a foot sore caravan throwing down their packs and stretching with a chorus of groans. There was a group of merchants riding in a slave drawn cart full of various wares.
I hate slavery, I always have. When my business in town is done, I'll try to take them with me and bring them to my friend Wendal in Folly. He was one of the people who hid in the bank vault with me during The Fall. He's the head of his own small village now, and whenever I free slaves, I usually bring them there. Wendal's always happy to take them in, there's plenty of room, and more people means more can get done.
I made my way to the tavern and let myself inside. I'd never really been interested in "westerns" when I was a kid. I'd seen "Silverado" and "Magnificent Seven" and even "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly," but that was about it. Walking into the Fireside Tavern was like stepping into one of those old movies. I miss popcorn. There was sawdust on the floor to soak up spilled drinks and spilled blood. Over in the corner sat an old man trying to coax a tune out of an old guitar. I think the guitar was winning.
Up on the "stage" there was a couple of local girls trying to dance along to the music. I only spared them a glance, because next to the door was what I was looking for, a bulletin board. There were several notices tacked up advertising upcoming events in the tavern, a few job openings, and the wanted posters. There were only three, two of them were other wanderers I'd met during my travels, and mine was right in the middle. I pulled down the poster and took it to the bar. I slapped it down without a word and waited. The bartender picked it up and, also without a word, motioned that I should follow him behind the bar.
He lead me to a door that opened to a dark room. He stepped back and gestured that I should go in. When he closed the door behind me and my eyes started to adjust to the dim light, I could see it was an office, and seated an a large desk in the middle of the room was the shape of a large fat man sitting in an equally large and fat arm chair.
"So you're interested in hunting this mark are you?" he asked in a jowly, fat voice.
"That's right," I said, "Can you tell me anything about him?"
"That's none of your business," he said with a quiver of fat annoyance. "All you need to know is that I want this guy alive, and if he's not, I'll make sure you die too, only not as fast!"
Now I've heard this kind of bullshit before. Overfed losers trying to talk tough and acting outraged at the idea of anything less than absolute obedience and respect. Whatever this guy's reason for putting a mark on me, I wasn't going to pussyfoot around with him. I calmly pulled out my shot gun and pointed it at his head.
"I asked you a question, Fatty. Now are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to smear your thick head all over the wall?" This was clearly unprecedented. I don't think anyone's ever questioned the fat man's authority before. He started to shiver and sweat and stammer. "Slow down Porky, I don't want you having a heart attack before I get some answers. Now why are you looking for me?" At this his eyes popped open.
"Y-YOU!?" he nearly toppled over backwards in his shock. His fat hands fumbled to the desk top where I could now see a gun was lying amid the clutter. I reached out and snatched it before he could get it. He slumped back in his chair and looked fatter than ever. Sweat was pouring down his cheesy face. "Talk," I said.
"O-Okay, I work for The Pack, they're taking over the country now, and they want people like you out of the way."
"And why do they want people like me out of the way?"
"We've noticed that you have a bad habit of killing our people and getting in the way of our business. Now why don't you just put away the gun and give yourself up? I'm gonna get a big bonus when the Boss hears I was the one that caught you!"
The idea of personal glory seemed to make him blind to the fact that he was unarmed and asking a man with a gun to surrender. I pumped a round into the chamber and slowly brought it up to point at his face. Visions of glory vanished from his mind instantly.
"Now for the $50,000 question: Why the hell should I turn myself in to a slug like you?"
End of entry.
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I emerged from the Fireside Tavern and stood squinting in the sunlight that dazzled my eyes that had adjusted to the dim light inside. So now I had my answers: the fat bastard was positioned by the raiders who called themselves The Pack. They had stationed agents in all the local towns and villages to oversee the slave trade and control the local economy.
Merchants and traders had only just started doing good business in the past year and commerce was starting to pick up again. Now it looked like the raiders were trying to stake a claim on the new business. And they had put out hits on anyone who was known to openly defy the raiders. I admit I have made it a habit to go out of my way to kill raiders before. Sometimes I didn't have to go very far out of my way to find them, and sometimes they came to me. Now it was time to pay for all.
But that's not to say I'm deluded enough to consider taking on The Pack single handed. First of all, no one knows where their main base is hidden. Secondly, I'd need a small army for that, and there just aren't enough people available who are willing to risk whatever they've managed to scrape together in the past four years. I can't say I blame them, but it still leaves me in a tough spot. I figured the first thing I needed to do was get as far away from Fireside as possible. I was only joking about the fat bastard having a heart attack. I didn't expect him to go ahead and actually have one.
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That night...
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I made about fifteen miles today, but tomorrow I'd better try for twenty. If that fat bastard was connected to the raiders, it's only a matter of time before they start searching for me, and I want to have a good head start. As near as I could tell, my only option at the moment was to get myself a posse and start striking raiders camps one at a time. It shouldn't be too hard at first. It should certainly be an unexpected move on my part.
Meanwhile I needed to hole up somewhere and get some sleep. I stumbled around in the semi dark until I found an old pile of junked cars. I made myself a fairly comfortable bed in the trunk of a burned out Thunderbird. My grandfather used to have one of these. I pulled the lid down and fell asleep.
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I had a dream that disturbed me for days after. I was back in the bank vault during The Fall. Wendal and the others were there with me. Then one by one they got up and walked out of the vault. I tried to call out to them to tell them to stay with me where it was safe, but I couldn't make a sound. Finally only Wendal and myself were left. But as he was about to leave he turned and started to close the door. I couldn't move or make a sound. "You're going to die alone," he said before the door shut and locked me in, alone in the dark.
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I awoke with a start and it was all dark around me. I panicked and thrashed out with my arms, knocking open the lid of the trunk. The early morning sunlight streamed in and I lay back breathing hard. Only a dream, only a dream I kept thinking to myself.
I packed up my gear and climbed to the top of the car pile to get a look around. Back in the direction of Fireside I could see a dust cloud rising up from the road. Only a large group of people could raise that much dust. I decided to get moving in case it was the raiders. I turned north. I needed a place to hide out until I had a more solid plan and maybe some better resources. I decided to go back to New Hampshire. It was mid-winter now, so by the time I got there it would be early spring.
As I walked I remembered again the cabin on the side of Mt. Kearsarge where my father used to take me and my brother camping. That would be a good place to make for, if it was still there. If it wasn't, no matter, there had to be hundreds of places like it to hide out in. The White Mountains were lousy with cabins and hunter's lodges. There had to be at least some that were still usable.
It also occurred to me that I could visit my old house. In the four years since The Fall, I had never been home. I wondered if there was anything left. Any of my things still there. My books or old clothes, my swords and knives, my porn. Just kidding. I could still find that anywhere. There was even the slim possibility that some of my family had survived all this time and I could see them again. Best not to get my hopes up too much. But still...
End of entry.
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Two weeks later...
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I've always had an active imagination, and I had a habit of day-dreaming while I was walking along. Different scenarios would play out in my mind, and often I caught myself saying my part of the scenarios aloud. Sometimes I would be traveling south with the Fellowship of The Ring, discussing possible routes with Strider, or battling orcs outside the smashed gates of Minas Tirith.
Other times I would be piloting my X-Wing fighter in a space battle with imperial TIE fighters in an assault on the Death Star, or taking on Darth Vader with my lightsaber that was always wielded with expert skill. These daydreams sustained me and kept me from boredom, although they probably didn't say much about my state of mental health. At night I would sit beside the camp fire and whittle. I had made a couple of pipes to smoke weed with, but at the moment, I was trying to carve a little flute that didn't look like it was coming out too well. No matter, I can't play anyway.
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Two months later...
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It's been a long road, but after four years, I'm finally home. All in all, I was surprised at how much still remained. Massachusetts was a mess, as expected. There wasn't much left after fires and looting, but New Hampshire was virtually untouched. I didn't see anyone as I made my way up the remains of I 93 and onto I 89. Manchester was a desolate wasteland of burned buildings and charred craters. I stopped by the old mall, but one look around told me there was nothing left. I passed Concord without bothering to look around. I was only twenty miles from my parents' home in Warner and I wanted to get there as soon as possible.
The next day I arrived in Warner and hope left me. There had been a fire and half the town was gone. I could easily see where my parents' house had been from the highway. All that was left was a pile of half burned wood and drywall in the crumbling remains of the foundation. If my family had survived The Fall, they wouldn't have stayed here. Mt. Kearsarge rose above Warner, but I passes it by for the moment. I was only another twenty miles from my old place in Newbury. I camped in the park-and-ride on the edge of town and started early the next morning.
As I walked along I listened as hard as I could, but there was nothing to hear but bird song and the occasional chatter of squirrels. I had seen no signs of human habitation anywhere. Late that evening I arrived at Newbury harbor on the side of Lake Sunapee. I camped again in the shell of the old police station where I found some shotgun shells that still seemed good.
The next morning I came home. I was a little surprised to see it still standing. The front door was standing open and the yard was a small jungle. I went inside and looked around sadly. It was dark and filthy. Animals had been in and out of the house for who knew how long. I climbed the stairs and went into my old room. Everything was exactly the way I remembered it.
It was almost surreal, like going back in time. Over in the corner hanging above the tv was the portrait of myself, a memento from my days in the drama club in high school. On the stand in front of the window was my sword rack. The walls were covered with posters and every other available surface was cluttered with my old action figures. They were going to be worth a lot of money one day I remembered. Not anymore.
I ran a finger over the dusty tops of my DVDs and looked at a few of the titles, beloved movies and cartoons that I would probably never be able to watch again. I went to the closet and saw all my shirts hanging as I had left them. I pulled a couple out and laid them on the edge of the bed. Everything had a damp, musty smell.
I then went to my book shelf. I pulled out "Lord of the Rings," "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy," and "The Stand" and put them on the bed next to my shirts. I also pulled out "Support Your Local Wizard" by Diane Duane. I opened the front cover and found an old hundred dollar bill I kept for emergencies. I put the bill back and replaced the book on the shelf.
Hanging on the wall by the door, a forgotten treasure, my Tom Anderson "Pantera" claws. Kind of like Wolverine's claws fixed into handgrips that resembled brass knuckles. I took these down and set them on the bed with my shirts and books. Next I selected my Nodachi sword from the rack, one of my old favorites. Finally I took off my travel worn boots and put on my old boots that had been left against the wall behind the door.
I laced them up, trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the memories and emotions whirling around in my head. I pulled my old back pack out of the closet and repacked all my traveling supplies and my shirts, books, and the claws. It was time to leave. There was nothing left for me here anymore. Out in the yard I took a last look at the house, then I turned and walked away, never to return.
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Two days later I arrived back in Warner and started my approach to Mt. Kearsarge. Hiking up the mountain had been a popular field trip activity for schools. Good for a days exercise, a couple leisurely hours to hike to the summit, lunch in the clouds, then another hike back down. I had stopped by the grocery store back in town where I was lucky enough to find a trove of canned goods, and in the hardware store next door I found some camping gear like a folding hand saw and a shake-charge flashlight.
I waded the river with some difficulty as it was swollen with the spring run-off, and two hours later, I reached the cabin. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn't fix up. I might have to hike back down to the hardware store to get some tools, but that could wait. I busted the lock off the door with the butt of my shotgun and went inside. I was pleased with the overall condition. The wood stove was a little rusty, but still usable. The old mattress was obviously ruined with mold and eaten away by rats or other nesting animals, so I dragged that out first and left it in the woods.
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That night I sat at the rough wooden table and filled my pipe while listening to the soft crackle of the flames in the wood stove. Fortunately for me, people in New Hampshire liked smoking weed, and grew plenty of it in the woods. Now I was safe for the moment, comfortable, and I had time to think. It was time to give some thought to the problem with the raiders...
End of entry.
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Six weeks later...
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I had been staying comfortably in the cabin on the side of Mt. Kearsarge for over a month when trouble finally found me. The Dregs. The feral people that lived like pack animals, hunting other people like wolves. Savages who had forgotten their humanity in the bloody aftermath of The Fall. I had often wondered how they could have changed so much in only a couple or years. How they could have gone from intelligent human beings to mindless bestial creatures of pure rage. Now I knew why there were no human settlements anywhere in the area: The Dregs had hunted them and driven them all away.
I was sitting by the small stream that ran down by the side of the cabin, I was busy cleaning my gun when I noticed a rustling in the bushes about fifty yards away. A cold rush ran down my back. I quickly reassembled my shotgun and reloaded it. Suddenly with a savage cry, a naked man, covered in filth with long tangled hair, burst out from the bushes and charged at me. I waited a second but he seemed to be the only one. When he was about ten feet from me, I pulled the trigger and blew his head off.
I quickly ran inside and gathered up my things. When there was one, there were always at least a dozen others. When I came out I realized there were more than a dozen. A lot more. It was hard to count heads, but there had to be at least thirty of them, crouched down like dogs, or slowly circling the cabin, snarling and watching me with hungry eyes.
I pumped a fresh round into the chamber and fired off another shot into the air hoping to scare a few off, but no such luck. The Dregs were almost mindless in their determination in the hunt. I knew that I would have to kill them all if I wanted to walk away alive, but the idea didn't have much appeal. If only there was a way of creating a diversion so I could make my escape. But what could I do?
Then it came to me: fire. With nothing better to try, I ran back inside the cabin and opened the door of the wood stove. There was still a good bed of coals from the previous night. I grabbed the camping shovel and scooped out a good amount. I came back outside slowly, trying to balance the small pile of coals on the shovel. The Dregs had moved closer while I was inside. I held up the shovel, hoping the concept of fire was not lost on them. It was.
With a sigh I threw the coals into the bushes and long grass near the cabin. Immediately there was a small blaze that began to quickly grow. This got The Dreg's attention. They began to scream and run around in total confusion. I watched for my opportunity to slip away and soon it presented itself. I made a dash for the path and started to run downhill. Unfortunately a small group of Dregs saw me and chased after me. I was about halfway down the side of the mountain when I slipped on a patch of mud and went rolling over several rocks and small fallen branches.
When I came to a stop I painfully picked myself up and checked for injuries. Nothing too serious, but I had banged up my left knee pretty good, so running was no longer an option. I got up and began limping as fast as I could down the path. Already there was a lot of smoke blowing down the mountain behind me, and I could see many birds and other animals running downhill on both sides of the path.
In all the confusion and noise, I guess it was no wonder that The Dregs caught up with me without my notice. As I limped along, I was hit from behind and bowled over with a heavy weight on my back. I looked over my shoulder and saw the face of a young female Dreg, her face covered with dirt and ugly with savage rage. I elbowed her in the head, knocking her off long enough to get to my feet. There were three other males with her and they had me surrounded.
With no other choice, I reluctantly pulled out my shotgun and started firing. The first went down looking stupidly at where his right shoulder used to be. The second bought himself a little time by slipping on loose stones and dodging my shot. I quickly pumped in another shell and nailed him with the second shot. Now there were only two left, one male on his feet, and the female still on the ground in a daze.
I pumped another shell into the shotgun and took aim, but before I could pull the trigger, the male lifted his head and sniffed the air. The smoke was very thick now and it was getting a little hard to breath. With a leap, he charged off into the trees, leaving me with the female.
I started to head down the path again when she lifted her head and looked me right in the eye. I was about to turn away when, with a shock, I recognized my sister, Alecia.
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The forest was burning all around us, but she was crouched down by the first of The Dregs I shot when they caught up with me. She was making a low moaning cry that I could only assume was the sound of her mourning the fallen. She then dipped her fingers in his blood and smeared some on her cheek like war paint. But when she turned back to me, instead of attacking, she cautiously crept over to me and lay down at my feet. I was totally flabbergasted by this.
Looking back on it now, the only theory that makes any kind of sense was that I killed what I can only assume was her mate, I had somehow claimed her as my property according to whatever social hierarchy The Dregs possess. But I didn't have time to ponder this at the moment. The flames and smoke were threatening to overwhelm us where we stood.
"Come on!" I said to her and grabbed her arm. She flinched but didn't pull away. I got her to her feet and, still holding her arm, led her down the path as fast as I could on my injured knee. Only when we came to the river did she offer any resistance. I guess she had been taught or conditioned to never cross the river, perhaps it marked the edge of their territory. In any case, I was crossing and so was she. Reluctantly she allowed me to lead her across, then we could slow down a little, with the river behind us to slow down the fire.
About an two hours later, we arrived at the ruins of our parent's house. I had thought maybe bringing her home might spark some memories, but my sister seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. With some free time now, I rolled up my pants leg and looked at my knee. It was heavily bruised and starting to swell, but it looked like it would be okay, although there would certainly be some stiffness for the next few days. I pulled out one of my shirts and tore it into strips to wrap my knee.
With first aid taken care of, I turned my attention to Alecia. Her long blonde hair was tangled and matted with filth. Her once fair skin was heavily tanned and freckled from constant exposure to the sun. She had always burned easily as a child. She was also nude, so I pulled out another of my shirts and, after some persuasion, managed to get it on her. The shirt was at least long enough to serve for the present.
After a rest and something to eat, which Alecia accepted with all the grace and charm of a dog being fed scraps under the table, we hit the road. I decided to make for the coast and then go south, so that by the time autumn came around, we would be far enough south to avoid winter. As we walked I talked to her constantly, reminding her of one fond memory or another, trying to reach her, but as I talked, she just walked along beside me in silence.
She won't or can't calk any more. I pondered this as we walked along. What could have happened to her? How had she ended up like this? Would she ever snap out of it and be her old self again? I had no way of answering these questions and she was unable to tell me.
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We made camp that night on the side of the highway. There was an old SUV abandoned by the side of the road, and after pulling out the old trash left in the back, it served as a weatherproof shelter. I didn't think my sister would consent to get in, but when I climbed in the back, she followed me without a sign of fear. I pulled down the hatch and lay down to sleep.
I had another disturbing dream that night. I stood in front of my parents house as it used to be. The house was in flames and I could see my parents and sister looking out at me from the living room window. They seemed to be calling for me to help them, but I just turned around and walked away.
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The next morning I awoke to find my sister asleep beside me, curled up like a cat. I tried to get up without disturbing her, but she immediately woke up and looked at me with fear in her eyes. She grabbed my hand and held on tight.
"I'm not going to leave you," I said, laying my other hand over hers. I don't know if she understood me or just my body language, but she let go of my hand and seemed to relax. "I promise I'm never going to leave you alone again," I said. She cocked her head slightly to the side like a dog.
My dream of the previous night was very clear in my mind, and I knew exactly what it meant. It was my fault she ended up like this. I had abandoned my family in the aftermath of The Fall, and the only thing I could do to make up for it was to stay by her side and protect her now. No matter what.
End of entry.
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Three weeks later...
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Alecia still won't talk, but she's started responding more when I talk to her. I still hope to one day bring her back to her old self, but I've accepted that it might take a long time. Again and again I tried to figure out how she could have ended up like this, And that thought led me to wonder how any of The Dregs ended up the way they were.
Certainly one of the most puzzling changes brought about by The Fall was The Dregs. In only four years, they had completely lost all traces of their former humanity, living in the wild like a pack of wolves, hunting anything in order to survive, even other humans. And how my sister ended up as one of them I may never know, unless she ever tells me herself.
We had traveled south and east making towards the seacoast. I intended to make for Hampton first and then go south from there towards Folly, taking it easy and generally spending time with my sister in hopes of getting her to talk to me. We stopped off in Concord on the way, where we found a massive crater from The Fall. Everything in a ten mile radius was completely blown away. But the mall still stood intact, although it had been heavily looted in the past.
There I was able to find some clothes for my sister, but I had to help her to get dressed. I tried to get her to put on shoes, but she made it clear this was not an option. I figured it wasn't a big deal. She had been running around barefoot for the last four years, her feet were probably as tough as leather anyway.
The next issue to address was food. There had been several grocery stores in the area, but if the mall had been looted as much as it was, I was sure the food had gone quickly as well. Still I had to provide for my sister as well as myself now, so I had to check.
Sure enough the first store we went to was cleaned out. In fact it looked like people had set up a residence inside, but it was long abandoned. The next two stores were also no good, but finally we found one that still had some canned goods and packages of beef jerky in the back store room. I loaded up as much as I could fit into by back pack and we returned to the highway.
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The next few days were uneventful. We walked and I talked to my sister about things we had done together in the past. I wasn't sure if she was really taking in anything I said, but she seemed to at least listen to the sound of my voice. At night we camped wherever we felt like, I prepared dinner while she would sit and stare into the fire. We slept under the stars or in abandoned cars if it was raining, and every morning I woke up to find her curled up close beside me, sometimes snuggled up against me.
And that's how it was for about three weeks. We didn't see any other people, human or Dreg. Occasionally we would see deer, or a few stray dogs or cats. One day we saw a pair of foxes playing in a field. Before I could stop her, Alecia ran out into the field and chased the foxes. At first I thought she was trying to catch them, but after a while I realized she was just trying to join in the fun.
For a minute I just stood there in shock, but before I knew it, I found myself laughing. Whether because of how funny she looked or from sheer relief, I don't know, but a feeling of hope grew in me then. She was still human enough to appreciate fun, perhaps that was a way to help her regain whatever she had lost that made her become a Dreg in the first place. Eventually she came back, grinning almost like her old self.
"Have fun?" I asked with a grin of my own. She didn't respond but I could tell something was happening between us. That glimmer of hope swelled up again. I knew I could reach her eventually. One day she would be my little sister again, not this strange, wild girl standing in front of me with mud on her feet and grass in her hair.
"Well come on, then," I said and started down the road again. She trotted along beside me, still grinning from ear to ear.
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Three weeks later...
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We stood on the beach under the hot summer sun. Seagulls were soaring on the breeze overhead, occasionally squawking to each other. Alecia was wandering around checking out some seaweed that had washed up on the shore. Hampton had been nearly demolished. As near as I could tell, a tidal wave, probably caused by The Fall, had washed over the town and leveled most of it. There had still been no signs of human habitation anywhere. Once I found the remains of a camp fire, but it had been rained on at least twice so there was no telling how old it was.
Feeling it was safe for the moment, I stripped down to my shorts and jumped into the water. It was slightly warm and refreshing. I turned to look back at the beach and I saw my sister watching me with a look of concern on her face.
"Come on in!" I called but she didn't move. I waded back up onto the shore. "It's all right, don't be afraid," I took her hand and gently tried to pull her towards the water but she resisted. I decided it was best to not push her too fast, so I let go of her hand and backed up into the water up to my waist, showing her it was safe. "See? It's okay." I splashed a little water at her.
Seeing me standing in the water seemed to convince her it was safe to follow me, so she slowly came near the water. At that moment a wave washed up. She retreated up the beach in near panic, but I decided to remain silent and let her work it out for herself.
She looked at me as if trying to determine if I was playing a trick on her. I stood there watching her. Slowly she approached again, this time with a little more confidence. I held out my hand to her without saying a word. Finally she stepped into the water and came to me.
"See? It's all right," I said taking her hand. It took another fifteen minutes or so, but she finally started to get over her fear of the water and have a little fun. We splashed around for a while before getting out to dry in the sun. Besides relaxing and having a good time, I had managed to get her cleaned up a little. I made a mental note to try to find a comb and a pair of scissors and do something about her hair. It was less muddy but still very long and tangled.
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That night we camped on the beach. I lit a fire and made dinner as usual. I also decided to try a new tactic. As I was stirring the soup, I started singing a few songs that I remembered she used to like. The effect was startling. Her head snapped up from watching the fire and she looked at me with a strange look in her eyes. I noticed this but gave no sign that anything was out of the ordinary.
After a moment she turned her attention back to the fire, but now there were tears in her eyes. I kept singing while watching her closely. After a while she lay down on her side and went to sleep. I felt disappointed that there had been something happening but it had passed. Still I felt encouraged. I was starting to get to her. I felt strongly that if I kept trying, there would be a breakthrough. I went to sleep, with hope that tomorrow she might show more improvement.
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That night I dreamed that I had lost her somehow. I wandered through a burned forest calling for her, but there was no answer. Suddenly she stepped out from behind a tree, but it was my sister as she used to be before The Fall. "You'll never find me!" she said in a teasing voice. Then she giggled and disappeared behind the tree again. I ran to the tree and looked behind it, but she was gone.
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The next morning dawned clear and bright, but something was wrong. I awoke expecting to find my sister curled up beside me as usual, but she was still on the other side of the fire pit where she had gone to sleep the night before. I tried to not be too disappointed by this. I figured she had been too tired from the activities of the day before to wake up in the night and come over to me. I hoped this was the case. My dream came back to my mind and I wondered if I really would ever find the part of her that was my sister.
End of entry.
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Six weeks later...
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We traveled south without incident for nearly a month. Much to my dismay, my sister had pulled away from me somewhat. It was rare now that I would wake up in the morning to find her curled up beside me like she used to. I tried and tried, but I couldn't figure it out. All I could do was keep talking to her and try to make her remember who she was.
Because we had been taking it slow, it took us a lot longer than it normally would for me to reach Folly. I had come to the conclusion that I could make no further progress with my sister's rehabilitation on my own. What she really needed was to see other people living and interacting with each other. At least I though so.
Also I remembered Wendal making mention once of a psychologist who had settled in the village. I was almost ashamed of myself that I didn't think of him sooner. Of all the luck to know of a psychologist in this day and age, and I go and forget all about him when I could use his help more than anything else.
But first I had to do something about our appearance. We were both filthy and smelly from the long weeks on the road, and neither one of us had had any kind of bath since our stop at Hampton beach. As we passed through one small town, I looked around until I found a drug store.
After much rummaging through the debris, I found scissors, a comb, shaving razors, a small hand mirror with only a small crack near the edge, a crumbling bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that had not completely dried up.
Next we wandered around until we found a small river that was deep enough to bathe in. Cleaning myself was no issue, but I doubted I could convince my sister to give herself a good scrub while I went away to give her some privacy. Still it was worth a try.
"Alecia, are you going to be able to wash yourself?" I asked without much hope. She cocked her head to the side slightly, like she did any time I tried asking her a question. It was comforting to know that she knew I was asking a question instead of just talking to her, but it seemed she still didn't or couldn't understand me. I tried demonstrating how to soap up and rinse off, but when I handed her the soap, she just sniffed it then looked at me.
Well I knew what I had to do. With a sigh and as much of a professional attitude as I could muster, I got her undressed and helped her wash, which she took with surprisingly good grace. I figured it was no different that any family member who had ever had to wash an invalid loved one. At least I didn't have to force her.
After the initial cleaning, it was time to do something about her hair. I had added some water to the shampoo and let it sit a while to re-hydrate. Now it was ready to use. I began washing her hair, and this time she started to get fidgety, so I sing to her and she quieted down.
After about an hour, I had finally gotten her hair clean, combed out the tangles, and cut it down to a manageable length. After she was dressed again, I felt a pang of sadness looking at her. She almost looked like her old self, but the girl looking at me from her eyes was a completely different person. I held up the mirror for her to see her reflection. She gazed at it with rapt attention. I handed it to her and she absently sat down while staring at it. It must have been the first time she had seen her reflection in four years. And certainly the first time she looked like who she once had been. As I watched her, I saw she had tears in her eyes again.
"Alecia?" I called her name softly. She looked at me, and for a second I could have sworn she was about to say something. Then she let the mirror fall to the ground and wandered away a little to investigate some flowers growing by the river. I shook my head sadly and picked up the mirror. I went to the water's edge and had a proper shave. I figured it would be good for her to see me more or less as I used to look. I resolved to show her as many familiar things as I could. Something had to spark her old memories.
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Two days later we arrived at the village of Folly. The name was Wendal's little joke. He said it was folly to try to re-create the ways that we had lost in The Fall. The sentries let me pass without question. My history with Wendal was well known to everyone in the village and I was always welcome.
Alecia began to get nervous as we passed more and more people. Out in the fields, several people saw me pass and waved a greeting at me. Most of them were former slaves I had freed and sent here. I waved back and continued on my way. Alecia started to walk closer by my side in obvious anxiety. I held her hand and talked to her as we made our way into the center of the village.
"This is the home of two good friends on mine, Alecia. I promise we'll be safe here." She gave no indication that she understood my words, so to help her relax I started humming a little tune for her. It seemed to help, so I kept it up as we approached Wendal's house.
Apparently word had gone ahead of us, because Wendal was standing outside his front door waiting for us.
"Alan! Welcome back!"
"Thanks Wendal, it's good to be here."
"I'll bet. I've heard rumors that there's a mark on your head."
"Yeah, that's why I had to go into hiding for a while."
"And who's this little number?"
"Wendal, this is my younger sister, Alecia."
Wendal held out his hand to shake, but Alecia pulled back and half hid behind me.
"Sorry Wendal, but she's had some...problems, and she's not really herself."
Wendal gave me a searching look for a moment. "All right, come inside both of you. I can see there's something you don't want to talk about in public. I'll have Laura fix up something to eat."
Wendal led the way into his house. The village of Folly had been rebuilt on the ashes of another town that had been burnt during The Fall. The houses were small, more adequate than anything else, certainly nothing to be called luxurious, but all that mattered to the villagers was that it was home.
Inside we were shown to a small living room. Wendal's three-year-old daughter, Ashley, was playing with a pair of kittens. Alecia had always loved cats. After a moment of hesitation, she slowly went over to sit on the floor near the kittens. "Hi!" said Ashley with a big smile. Alecia didn't answer, but a hint of a smile crossed her face in return. "You wanna play with kitty?" asked Ashley, handing over one of the kittens. Alecia took the kitten and just held it for a moment, watching it with a look of real happiness on her face.
Wendal and I stood watching this for a moment until Wendal's wife, Laura, came in with a tray of sandwiches and instant coffee. I sipped it and suppressed a grimace. I guess that stuff never goes bad, since it was never good in the first place. I thanked her as I accepted my share.
"Do you want anything to eat, dear?" she asked Alecia, but got no response. Alecia was totally absorbed in the kittens frolicking on the floor.
"Don't worry about it, Laura, she'll come over when she's ready." I said. Laura shrugged and went off to begin preparations for dinner.
"Now then," said Wendal, setting down his coffee. "What's the big secret? Why didn't you ever tell me you had a sister somewhere?"
I didn't answer for a moment. I looked down at my cup and tried to find the courage to admit my guilt. Wendal's question brought on a wave of guilt that I never knew I had until now. I tried for nearly a minute to find some way to explain it that wouldn't make me look like a total asshole. Finally I just blurted it out.
"I didn't know she was still alive. I never even went to find out in all this time since The Fall. I was off taking care of myself while she was left to fend for herself. I wasn't even looking for her when I found her, it was an accident. She's been living with The Dregs."
"What?! She's a Dreg?" I had never seen Wendal so genuinely shocked.
"Yes. She's a Dreg, and it's all my fault. I should have gone straight home after The Fall. I should have been there for her. But I wasn't. I don't know how she could have ended up like this, and I don't know if she'll ever be her old self again."
"No one can ever go back to what we used to be," said Wendal gently. "The Fall can never be undone, the changes can never be unmade. The people who survived are not who they used to be, and never will be again. The world isn't what it used to be, and never will be again. All we can do is survive, adapt, and try to keep moving forward."
I sat quietly trying to absorb the wisdom of what he said. Wendal sipped his coffee quietly and gave me time to think. Over on the floor Alecia and Ashley were rolling a ball of string for the kittens to play with. Both the girls were off in another world for all they knew or cared.
"Wendal?"
"Yes?"
"Is that psychologist still living here in town?"
"Doc Thayer? Yes. He lives over on the South End. I was wondering when you'd ask about him. It's getting late now, but I'll bring you and Alecia over to see him in the morning. He should find her fascinating if nothing else."
"I'm not concerned with whether or not he's fascinated, I just want to know if he can help her."
"That remains to be seen."
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That night we all sat down to dinner together, a real home-cooked dinner. Alecia and Ashley sat side by side. One might think they had been friends for years, or even sisters, what with how well they got on together. Alecia didn't talk, and Ashley didn't say much, but between them there was more communication that I had managed in the time since I had found her.
After dinner the girls were sent to bed together. Wendal, Laura, and I sat up for a few more hours catching up. I gave Wendal the copies of "Lord of the Rings", "Hitchhiker's Guide", and "The Stand." We discussed the raiders and their slow spreading influence on the traders. Wendal suggested several places I could go to look to hire mercenaries to help me get rid of the raiders. Then Laura asked me about Alecia, so I had to tell it all again, but this time it seemed easier to tell. Laura agreed that I should take Alecia to see old Doc Thayer in the morning. If anyone could help her, it was Doc Thayer.
A bed was made for me on the sofa in the living room, and after looking in on Alecia, who was snuggled in bed with Ashley, I went to sleep. And as far as I can remember, I didn't have any dreams that night.
End of entry.
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The next morning I awoke to find the kittens sleeping on my chest, and Alecia sitting on the floor beside the sofa staring at them.
"Good morning," I said to her. She turned her attention to me for a moment, then went back to watching the kittens. I picked them up and set them on the floor so I could get up. I could hear Laura in the kitchen making breakfast. Wendal came into the room carrying Ashley who was yawning and rubbing one of her eyes with the side of her tiny fist.
"Where'dja go?" she demanded of Alecia. Alecia surprised me by getting up and going over to greet Ashley. Wendal set Ashley down and she gave Alecia a hug. At first I didn't think Alecia would know how to handle this, but she surprised me again by returning the hug. The girls then sat down to play with the kittens again.
"She seems to be adapting nicely," said Wendal, sitting down on the sofa beside me.
"I know," I said, "I had a feeling she would respond more if I brought her to a place where she could see more people."
"After breakfast we'll go see Doc Thayer."
"Good, because I'm all out of ideas."
One of the most important rules of survival is: eat what you can when you can get it, because there's no knowing when, or if, you're going to be eating again any time soon. On the road, Alecia and I ate mostly canned goods and beef jerky I had found in the ruins of various grocery stores. Being able to sit down to a home cooked meal was a real luxury after so many weeks of the same thing every day.
We all sat down to bacon and eggs, home made toast, fresh berries, and coffee or milk. Alecia still ate with her hands, but she watched everyone else using their forks with interest. After breakfast, Wendal, Alecia, and I set out for Doc Thayer's house on the south end of town. As we walked Wendal asked me about what I'd seen as I traveled. I told him some things as they came to mind, then I told him about my journal. He said he'd like to read it when we got back to his house.
After only one day in the village, Alecia was already more comfortable seeing so many other people. She walked along at my side, still holding my hand, but not cringing and trying to hide behind me as she had the day before. We passed one yard that had a chicken pen, and she pulled me aside so she could look at them for a minute.
At last, after many stops for Alecia to investigate one thing or another, we came to a house built by a small stand of trees on the edge of town. There we saw a man in his middle forties sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch. He was smoking a hand carved pipe and deeply engrossed in an enormous book.
"Good morning Doc!" called Wendal. Doc Thayer looked up from his book and smiled as he stood up to shake hands with Wendal.
"Good morning to you, mayor! What brings you down to this end of town?"
"Doc, I want to introduce you to some very special friends of mine. This is Alan and his sister Alecia."
"Good morning," I said shaking his hand.
"Likewise," he responded with a pleasant smile. Alecia didn't come forward, but she didn't try to hide either.
"So Mr. Mayor, how may I be of service today?"
"Well actually I think Alan should explain, can we go inside?"
"Of course! Come on in!"
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Doc Thayer led the way into his house. It was smaller than Wendal's house, but it was definitely comfortable. Doc Thayer had salvaged several cushy armchairs that were still in fairly good shape. Over in the east wall was a small hearth with a fire burning in it. Near a doorway leading to another room was a book shelf that nearly groaned under the load of books Doc Thayer had stuffed it with. It was the house of a man with simple, yet elegant taste.
Doc Thayer gestured us to the chairs gathered around the fireplace and sat down as well.
"Now how can I help you?" he asked me. I explained to him how I had accidentally discovered my sister living among The Dregs in New Hampshire. I told him about her behavior and how it had changed since I had started traveling with her.
"But now I think we've come to an impasse. She's gotten a lot better, but she seems to have stopped making progress. She still won't talk and I'm just afraid she never will again." Throughout my story, Doc Thayer sat and listened without interruption. He puffed his pipe and looked thoughtfully at Alecia. Alecia sat gazing at the fire, seemingly oblivious to what was going on.
"Well," said Doc Thayer after I had finished, "First I must say that it's extraordinary that you happened to find her by chance. I also find it remarkable that you've managed to inspire any recovery in her at all. As far as I know, no one has ever managed to bring a Dreg out of the wild before."
"What are The Dregs anyway?" asked Wendal.
"The Dregs are, in a word, unfortunate," said Doc Thayer. "The Fall was, as you know, a catastrophic calamity that has fundamentally changed the world. Some have applied the name to mean not only the fall of devastating meteors, but also the fall of civilization as we know it. Perhaps even the fall of mankind. Perhaps you are familiar with post traumatic stress disorder? Well what it boils down to is this: when the human mind is exposed to trauma so severe that it simply can't cope, the brain will, in affect, shut down.
"The symptoms can vary greatly from case to case. Sometimes the symptoms manifest themselves in the form of what is known as 'shell shock,' usually found in soldiers who have survived intense combat, sometimes it can manifest in the form of amnesia, where the mind is so traumatized that it will simply block out the memory of the trauma altogether. Quite often the severity of the symptoms are directly influenced by the severity of the trauma.
"In the case of The Dregs, the trauma of surviving The Fall, witnessing the end of the world, as it were, and seeing the aftermath, was simply too much. It was too much to cope with, and their minds just couldn't process that kind of monumental change, so the rational and intelligent part of their minds retreated, leaving a more primal part of their minds in charge to take care of the business of survival. Sadly this applies to your sister.
"I wish I could give you some good news regarding her condition, but I've never seen or heard of anyone rehabilitating a Dreg. Post traumatic stress disorder has no easy cure. Some people need years of intense therapy to overcome it, some people can, in time, learn to live with it, and some people are never able to.
"All I can say about your sister is that if she has shown this much recovery in such a short amount of time, there is every possibility that one day she will recover enough to begin dealing with the trauma of The Fall. If that time comes, she may very well regain the capacity of speech, and then the real healing can begin. For now I suggest you keep surrounding her with familiar and comforting things that she can relate to. Keep talking to her, sing to her, encourage her to remember happy memories that you share.
"And you're welcome to bring her back any time if you need my help. What little I can do for her is always at your disposal."
Wendal and I rose and thanked Doc Thayer for his time. We walked back to Wendal's house in silence. I had a lot to think about and Wendal kept his peace. When we got back to the house, I produced my journal from my bag for Wendal to read. Laura came out of the house with a basket of laundry saying she was taking Ashley with her down to the stream and would Alecia like to come too?
Ashley ran over and took Alecia's hand and led her away. Laura and I exchanged a smile at how well the girls got along together. I sat on the porch and filled my pipe as I watched them walk away to the stream that ran through the middle of town. After a while Wendal came out and sat down on the porch with me. I passed him the pipe and we smoked in silence.
"Alan," he said after pipe was empty, "I read your journal from beginning to end."
"And?"
"It's very good."
"Thanks. When can I expect my Pulitzer?"
"I want you to keep writing. For me."
"What?"
"I'm not going to leave this village for probably the rest of my life Alan. I have a family and responsibilities to see to. There's always something else to demand my attention. That's why I want you to keep writing this, for me as much as for yourself. This journal could be very important one day, and I want you to be my eyes and ears out in the wasteland. I want details, I want names, I want all the information you can gather for me."
"How come?"
"I have a feeling that one day this journal will be very important to a lot of people."
"Okay, now I know you're stoned..."
"I'm serious Alan! As the leader of this village, I'm responsible for the safety of every one of these people. I have to know what's out there and how it could affect these people lives and safety. And I can send that information to other villages in other places that are vulnerable. This problem with the raiders isn't a passing thing. They're going to keep gathering more weapons, more influence, and more power."
He handed me my journal and another blank notebook.
"Do this for me Alan."
"All right then, if it means that much to you. But what's all this stuff about it being very important one day?"
"Well who else has been writing a book about the early days after The Fall? Maybe one day we'll get things going again, rebuild and start to prosper again, then this journal will be an important piece of history."
"You're being stoned again."
"All right be that way. Just keep writing and take care of it."
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The girls came back about two hours later, soaking wet up to their knees and grinning like only the very innocent can grin. Laura had appropriated the assistance of one of the local boys to carry the basket of wet laundry for her, and I notice with disproval they we was watching Alecia with more than simple curiosity.
When she was growing up, I would often offer to kill any boy why showed interest in her. It was always considered a family joke, but as her brother, I was very protective and wanted her to stay my baby sister forever. Oh well, things change. Boy do they change.
Wendal told Laura to go sit down and stop working herself to death all the time. He and I hung up the laundry while the girls went inside to get out of the sun.
"So what's Greg been up to?" I asked, "I haven't seen him around."
"He's been out foraging for parts," said Wendal. "He says he wants to try to hook up generators to a water wheel in the stream to make electricity. I sent along ten other guys to keep him out of trouble. He should be back in a couple of days."
When Wendal and I came in, I found Laura had given Alecia a fresh change of clothes. When I had taken her to the mall back in Concord, I had dressed her in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She now wore a sun dress that came down to her knees. Laura had combed her hair and tied it back. My heart ached for the girl that used to be my sister.
Alecia came over and surprised me with a hug. I hugged her back, thinking about what Doc Thayer had said. No matter what, I would never give up on her. My sister was in there somewhere, and I was going to find her again.
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That night the dreams came back. I was in the burnt forest calling for Alecia again. Once again she walked out from behind a tree, only this time it was further away.
"You're never gonna find me!" she said with a giggle. She then stepped behind the tree and vanished. I ran around the forest calling for her, and I could still hear her giggling, but I couldn't see her anywhere...
End of entry.
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One month later...
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Two days after we arrived in Folly, Greg and his party returned from the wasteland leading a cart made from the bed of a pickup truck pulled by two horses. He ran over to shake my hand and began asking all kinds of questions about where I had been and what I had seen. After he talked my ear off, I got him to show me what he had found.
There was an emergency generator he had found in the basement of a hospital. He and a man named Dave, who had been an engineer before The Fall, believed they could rig up a waterwheel to turn the generator and make electricity for the village. I helped them as much as I could, but I was never very good at tech stuff.
Later I questioned his party members about any news of the raiders. They said The Pack had taken over fifteen villages so far, and were well on the way to taking more. Greg's party had had to move carefully to avoid attracting attention. So far Folly had not been discovered by the raiders, but one mistake could change all that.
But I had learned all I really needed to know: the problem with the raiders was not going to go away, and dealing with the problem wasn't something I could put off any longer. I had hidden long enough, now it was time to do something proactive.
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Every day in Folly seemed to bring Alecia a little closer to the person she used to be. She still wouldn't talk, but she had begun to actively respond to when I talked to her. If I asked her a question she gave me her full attention. If I asked her to go get something for me or to go do something, more often then not she would understand and do it.
And when I didn't have Alecia with me, Ashley demanded the rest of her attention. They had become fast friends in the time they spent together, and it was this friendship that made my next move easier to make. But I put it off as long as I could.
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At last I took Wendal and Greg aside one day and told them what I intended to do.
"Wendal," I said, "I'm going to have to leave soon to do something about the raiders. I can't keep running away from them. Alecia deserves to have her brother at her side to protect her, but I can't protect her as long as the raiders are looking for me, and it's not fair to her if I keep wandering and take her with me."
"What do you intend to do?" asked Wendal.
"How can we help?" added Greg.
"I need maps, I need supplies, and I need to leave Alecia here." I said.
"Of course she can stay with us," said Wendal.
"I still have some maps and things from when I went out last month," said Greg. "And I want to come with you."
"Greg! Your place is here!" said Wendal.
"I'm sorry Wendal," he said, "but I can't stay here and sit on my hands while Alan's out there risking his life for all or us. We all survived The Fall together, and we have to take care of each other. You're going to take care of his sister, and he's going out to fight the raiders to protect us, what does that leave for me?"
Wendal didn't answer. I know he felt the same way I did. Greg was only nineteen and had his whole life ahead of him. Neither of us wanted him to put his life on the line needlessly. All the same, he had a good point...
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Greg and I made plans and gathered supplies for the road. What maps there were we studied and made copies. Laura and Susan, Greg's girlfriend, worked together to make "Follyknockers," a thick, dry biscuit that lasted for weeks if kept dry.
Of course anyone who had ever eaten Follyknockers could explain their longevity easily: no one was very eager to eat them if they didn't have to. I was reminded of the descriptions of "cram" from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings: "...it was plain and mostly served as a chewing exercise."
Finally we were ready to depart. I had been told that there were mercenaries living out west, former Army squads that had survived The Fall and had become independent militia for hire. Good men and women who still served what was left of their country in whatever way they could. If I was to find any help against the raiders, they were my best bet.
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The morning sun was bright but still cool as we made ready to leave. Before we started, I took a walk with Alecia.
"Alecia," I began slowly. She turned to look at me. "I have to go away for a while." I waited to see if these words had any impact. They did. She clung to my arm and made a moaning sound of negation in her throat. She looked up at me and real dismay was in her eyes. I hugged her and went on.
"I know I promised I would never leave you again, but there's something I have to take care of before I can keep that promise. I'm going to leave you here with Wendal and is family. I know you'll be safe here until I come back." I felt her shudder in my arms, and I realized she was sobbing silently. I just stood there and held her for a while, then we headed back to the house.
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Wendal and his family were waiting for me with Greg and Doc Thayer. Doc Thayer had come to visit Alecia regularly to check on her progress. He had become a good friend, and I felt secure in leaving Alecia here under his guidance and Wendal's protection. Greg had brought along a mule to serve as a pack animal, I think he had named it Artemis or some other fool thing.
I shook Wendal's hand, gave hugs to Laura and Ashley, and finally to Alecia. Susan grabbed Greg and kissed him long and hard. Finally she released him and, with tears in her eyes, went to stand with Laura. Then I checked my shotgun, made sure my sword was in easy reach, and made sure my claws were securely strapped to the sides of my thighs. Greg had a 30.06 slung over his shoulder and two long daggers strapped to his belt. We both wore trench coats with thick liners to protect us from the oncoming winter months.
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Greg and I struck out due west and after we left the last of the farming fields and cattle pastures behind, we were back in the wasteland. The going was alternately easy and difficultly. During The Fall, most of the Earth's surface was bombarded with a heavy rain of meteorites that had left the land pock-marked with craters.
Some were shallower than others and we could walk straight across them without too much difficulty, others were very deep or even filled with water and we had to go around. As I made my way down the seacoast with Alecia I hadn't seen too many craters, but that was mostly because the massive tidal waves had filled most of them in.
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We traveled west as straight as we could for several weeks. Once in a while we saw, far off, bands of raiders on horseback riding across the wasteland, leaving one small village for another. We traveled mostly by night to avoid being seen. So far we had been lucky, but that didn't make me let my guard down.
Greg quickly proved himself a capable traveler, and showed potential to be a pretty decent wanderer. He was good for a full days march, knew where to find clean water as well as I did, and didn't complain when there was hard going. He also knew when to shut up and move along quietly.
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Survival seemed much easier when there was someone there to watch my back. Mostly though I appreciated Greg's company at night, when the silence used to seem almost painful, and often I was afraid to fall asleep in case an animal came along and decided to find out how I tasted.
. Most of the time it was just the two of us, but one night we came across another pair of travelers taking shelter from the rain under half an old bridge. They invited us to share their fire and their dinner. We didn't have much to offer in return but Follyknockers.
It was that night that I learned a vital component of survival was not just knowing how to live off the land, it was having a sense of humor.
The older of the two guys, who called themselves Mutt and Smut, handed me a piece or roast dog meat on a stick, then sat back and asked: "Either of you guys ever hear the story of King Grizzlebeard?"
Greg and I shook our heads no.
"Well, the story goes like this: Once upon a time there was this Princess, and she was a pretty little thing, but she was also a royal bitch. Every year on her birthday, her father, the King, invited all sorts of Princes and Kings from all over the country to try to marry her off and get the little bitch out of the house.
"Unfortunately the Princess was incredibly spoiled and also a cunt. No one was ever good enough for her, and she sent every Prince and King running in fear, because she'd just rip into 'em, making fun of them for one reason or other.
"Well one year, the Princess was on a roll and had run off every Prince and King that had come to ask for her hand that year. All except one. A King who had a long and shaggy beard came last to ask her hand. The Princess made fun of him and called him 'King Grizzlebeard.'
"But this time she had made fun of the wrong guy. He turned to her father and said 'King! I'll marry your daughter!' Well this shocked everyone, including the Princess, but her father had finally had enough of her shit too, so he made her marry King Grizzlebeard.
"Grizzlebeard took her back to his homeland and brought her to his castle. But instead of making her his Queen, he put her to work like she was a common maid. Now of course there was much bitching and complaining from the Princess, and there was plenty of whining and woe-is-me-ing, but the King just told her to shut her trap and get back to work.
"Finally after a whole year of this, the Princess had learned humility, and was grateful for everything she had. Then, seeing that the Princess had learned her lesson at last, the King made her his Queen, and they lived happily ever after.
"Now then, have you boys guessed the moral of the story?"
"Uh, be grateful for what you've got?" guessed Greg.
"Nope, that ain't it, guess again."
"Is it that it's important to have humility?" I guessed.
"Nope, that ain't it either."
"All right what it the moral?" I asked.
"Never trust whitey!"
That kept us laughing for three days.
End of entry.
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One month later...
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Sometimes I have to sit back and laugh at how much we used to take for granted. We had electricity for light and warmth, but we only stopped to appreciate it when it wasn't working. We had cars, trucks, and motorcycles to speed us to any destination in comfort; we had simple yet important luxuries like indoor plumbing.
But the one thing I missed most now was a telephone. We took it for granted how easy it was to pick up a phone and call anyone, anywhere in the world at any time we wanted or needed. I thought of this and wished I had a phone to call Wendal to ask about Alecia.
Greg and I had been on the road together for a month, working our way westward, and every day my thoughts were with my sister. I knew I did the right thing when I left her behind in Folly, but since I discovered her continued existence, something had changed in me. I sat considering this one evening as I was making the fire and Greg was off gathering water.
Before I found Alecia, I was totally focused on myself, and the rest of the world could go to hell for all I cared. Now here I was on my way to hire a small army to lead against the raiders in hopes of freeing the land of their control. But beneath all that, my goal was still mostly selfish; I only wanted to get rid of The Pack so I could live in peace with my sister. And if anyone else benefited from my actions, so be it.
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Greg and I slowly made our way across the Midwest, and as we went the land changed around us. There were many more craters and destruction to be found, and we hadn't seen any sign of human habitation in weeks. For that matter we hadn't seen any animals at all, except our mule. All the land seemed dead and empty.
Whole cities had been burnt or obliterated in The Fall, and often we could look in any direction and see the horizon. It was a desolate and lonely country. We tried to keep it from getting to us, but it was getting harder every day.
As a wanderer, I've gotten used to traveling alone in the wasteland, and Greg's company, although necessary, was starting to wear on my nerves. It wasn't anything specific that was bothering me, I just wasn't used to having someone around so much.
Fortunately for both of us, Greg was pretty perceptive, and he could tell his presence was only tolerated. He became uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful. I suppose a part of it was seeing first hand how much had been lost in The Fall, but mostly it was because he could see me trying not to snap at him in annoyance. I made a mental note to clear the air and let him know it wasn't his fault.
In the meantime I kept my eyes open for any signs of the raiders or mercenaries. When Wendal told me about the mercs, I asked him where I could find them, he said "Just head west, and they'll find you."
So we headed west, and so far, they hadn't found us. I was starting to get anxious by now, because a whole month had passed yet we had accomplished nothing, and all the time I knew the raiders would surely have been busy, conquering one village after another.
I was also starting to worry because winter was coming on fast, and that's no time to try to live off the land, especially in this land.
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"Well Alan," said Greg one morning, "It looks like we're running low on food."
"I know," I said, "If we don't find the mercs soon, we're going to be in trouble. We haven't seen any animals to hunt in weeks, and we haven't passed a town or city that wasn't a burned out shell or a crater."
"What are we gonna do?"
"The only thing we can do: press on and hope that we 'get found' in the next couple of days."
We packed up our things and started walking again. The sky was overcast and there was a chill wind blowing. I took comfort that Alecia would be someplace warm and safe this winter, not living naked in the forests of New Hampshire.
Come to think of it, how the hell did The Dregs survive living naked in the winter? Winters in New England could be harsh under the best of circumstances. Maybe The Dregs migrated south in the winter like birds.
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A week later, we were found. We were leaving the ruins of a small town, disappointed that all the stores and houses had been looted and there was nothing to eat. As we walked down the main street, ten men and women in military uniforms burst out of the surrounding houses and shops and trained their rifles on us.
"Drop your weapons!" shouted one of them, a young man of about twenty-five. Greg and I slowly unslung our guns and set them down.
"Take off the blades, too!" We obediently took off our swords and knives, and I pulled my claws from their sheaths on my legs and set those down as well. As soon as we were disarmed, four of the men came over and tied our hands behind our backs and gathered up our weapons.
Without a word, we were led away to a house off to the side of the street. Inside we were taken through the kitchen and down a narrow flight of stairs into the basement. Then one of the men knocked on a section of wall, which opened revealing a tunnel that led to the sewers under the main street.
We were led down several turns of the sewers until we came to what I guessed was a pumping station. A man in his mid fifties came over and one of our captors whispered something into his ear. He nodded and turned his attention to us.
"I am captain Hiller, United States Army." he said, "State your name and business."
"Captain," I said, "My name is Alan, this is my friend Greg. We're actually here looking for you."
"What for?"
"Have you ever heard of the raider called The Pack?"
"Yes I have. My scouts have reported that they've been staging a takeover of the eastern territories. But what do you have to do with them?"
"They've put out a hit on me."
"Really? Now why would they do that, I wonder?"
"I used to make it a habit to kill raiders whenever I encountered them."
"Well that was a foolish thing to do. You should have expected them to retaliate. So you have a hit on your head, what does that have to do with us?"
"I want to hire you to help me get rid of them."
"Which ones?"
"All of them."
"WHAT?"
"I want to wipe them out. I was a wanderer, but now I have someone who needs me to take care of her, and I can't settle down to do that if I'm always looking over my shoulder."
Hiller looked at me for a moment, then nodded to one of the guards standing behind us. I felt a knife slip between my bound hands, a quick jerk, and the ropes were cut.
"I can see there's more to this that I thought." said Hiller. "You'll forgive me if I don't return your weapons right away. In the meantime, you'll be fed and made comfortable while I look into other matters that demand my attention, we'll talk more later."
He left the room, the soldiers around us snapped to attention and saluted him as he passed. Greg and I were taken back to the house we came in through, there we were shown upstairs to a spare bedroom that had been cleaned and made useable.
Soon a young man came in with a couple packages of freeze dried rations. After weeks of Follyknockers, we were prepared to eat anything, and the rations weren't that bad.
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Later that evening, I was brought back to see captain Hiller. I was surprised and a little annoyed to see he had my journal on the table beside him. Couldn't a guy get a little privacy anymore? He saw that I noticed the book and handed it back to me.
"Well Alan, I must say that's quite an account you've written. And I now have no reason to doubt your intentions. It's one thing to talk to a man face-to-face and have to sift through his bullshit, but reading his private thoughts is far more convincing.
"To be honest, I was going to take the job anyway, The Pack are becoming a problem that we were going to have to deal with eventually anyway. But now I know your real motivation, I'm going to take the job for free."
"You are?"
"Yes. For two reasons. One: you want our help so you can do your duty to your sister, and I respect that."
"And the other reason?"
"You obviously don't have a pot to piss in."
"Thanks," I said, grinning in spite of myself.
"Don't mention it. Now then, there's work to be done. We start out first thing tomorrow." He called over a young woman and gave orders to pack up and be ready to move out at first light. Another young man came over and gave me back my weapons and Greg's.
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The next morning we were woken up early and had a quick breakfast of rations before starting back east. Greg and I marched along near the front of the column a few feet behind Captain Hiller and his Lieutenant, the young woman from the night before. I think I heard Hiller call her Banks.
We found ourselves marching next to a man about my age who introduced himself as Stebbins. Stebbins had just joined the reserves when The Fall hit. He had wandered around aimlessly for about six months before he met Captain Hiller. He then told us about the lands further west. It was lucky we stopped in Hiller's town after all.
If we had continued further west, we would have entered the quarantine zone. When the governments had used up the nuclear arsenal destroying the meteor, a lot of debris had been irradiated. Everything between the Great Lakes and the Rocky Mountains was a radioactive wasteland.
Captain Hiller had been considering moving east soon anyway since the prevailing wind currents were blowing from the west, carrying the fallout with it. There were even rumors of Dregs who were mutating from the radiation. I didn't want to think about that, so I quickly changed the topic, asking about Banks.
"Don't waste your time there, pal. Banks is all about captain Hiller. But if you like, I can introduce you to Hopkins. She's pretty cool, but she's made it she doesn't want to hook up with anyone in the troop. Band of brothers and all that shit. Chicks huh?"
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That night I was introduced to Beth Hopkins, who was actually very charming, and I think we hit it off. When it was time for bed, Beth invited me into her tent. We made love, and it was good. After, she fell asleep with her head resting on my chest. I lay awake for a little while, thinking about what was going to happen when we came back east.
I felt sure Hiller would want to stop in Folly to gather supplies and information. I just hoped that by bringing strangers there, I wasn't inviting disaster. I thought of Alecia and hoped this would all be over soon. I also hoped Beth would do that thing with her tongue again if I woke her up...
End of entry.
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Six weeks later...
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We made better time getting back to Folly than I expected. Captain Hiller's troops seemed to know the land intimately, and they found the smoothest path through even the most devastated areas. Stebbins said they had sent out scouts to explore and gather supplies, and they knew the lay of the land for many miles around.
This explained why Greg and I hadn't been able to find any food anywhere. So we marched by day, and I spent my nights with Beth, and in this way we made it back to Folly in just under six weeks.
We were challenged by the guards, but when I came forward and explained that they were with me and Greg, we were allowed to pass. People everywhere stopped what they were doing to watch the soldiers marching through the town in formation.
Soon we came to Wendal's house, and as before, he was waiting outside to greet me. Alecia was with him and, when she saw me, she ran over and threw her arms around me. I held her tight, it was so good to see her again.
"How have you been?" I asked.
"Good! Alan good!"
I stepped back in shock. "You can talk?!"
"Well not entirely," said Wendal. "She's been learning a little at a time since about two weeks after you left. I think she tried to speak just to ask where you had gone. It was Ashley who's been teaching her."
"That's incredible news!" I said.
"Alan where?" she asked.
"Where have I been?" She nodded. "I had to go away to find some people to help us take care of a problem. Which reminds me, Wendal, this is Captain Hiller. Captain Hiller, this is my good friend Wendal, the mayor of Folly."
Wendal and Hiller shook hands and I went for a walk with Alecia. It seemed Laura had found some new clothes for her. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a sweater, although she was still barefoot. We made our way out to one of the unused fields near town.
We sat down and Alecia picked a few flowers while I told her about my journey.
"Alan stay?"
"Yes sweetie, I can stay with you for a while now." She grinned and hugged me again. I didn't have the heart to tell her I would be leaving again as soon as Captain Hiller gave the word.
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That evening there was a party in honor or Captain Hiller and his troops. I introduced Alecia to Beth, and they seemed to be getting along, although I caught an undercurrent of jealousy from Alecia that she had competition for my attention. Needless to say, Alecia was always by my side again, with Beth sitting by my other side.
I looked around and saw Greg sitting with Susan on the other side of the fire pit. I was happy for Greg. He was a good kid and any source of happiness in the world after The Fall was a reason to celebrate.
Soon Lieutenant Banks came over and told me there was about to be a meeting and I was wanted. With Alecia tagging along, I followed Banks over to where Wendal was sitting with Hiller.
"Alan," said Wendal, "Captain Hiller and I were just discussing plans about how to take on the raiders, what do you suggest?"
"Well," I said, accepting a drink from Laura with a nod of thanks, "What I was thinking of doing was to find out where their main camp is and start hitting them a little at a time at night."
"You mean guerrilla warfare?" asked Hiller.
"I suppose." I said. "I don't really have any experience in warfare or strategy, that's half the reason why I needed your help."
We spent the next half hour drawing up plans and discussing various strategies for surrounding the raiders and wiping them out. Alecia sat quietly by my side and listened with interest.
"The only real problem is we don't know where the raider's camp is hidden," said Wendal while Captain Hiller was putting the finishing touches on the plans.
"Don't worry about that," said Banks, "Tomorrow morning I'm sending out some of our best scouts. They're each going to go to the nearest towns and wait for the raiders to make an appearance, then they're going to follow the raiders back to their base. And then we'll have them."
With all aspects of the plan worked out and agreed on, the meeting was adjourned and I decided to call it a night. Wendal gave me a small house to use as my own. It was a strange feeling having a house after four years of homeless wandering. While Alecia and Beth were making themselves comfortable, I just kind of stood in the living room and tried to get used to the feeling of having a home. A place I could always return to. A place to call my own.
I shook my head and went into the bedroom where Beth was in bed waiting for me. I slid between the sheets and into her arms. Perhaps I'd get used to it. I supposed I'd have to. I owed it to my sister to settle down and take care of her.
Maybe in the morning things would start to feel more natural.
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The next day Hiller's scouts departed for the three nearest towns, Fireside, Cratersville, and Willowhall. There was really nothing else to do but wait. To keep busy, I spent some time helping Greg work on the waterwheel and the generator, but we were having some problems getting it to all come together. It was Stebbins who helped us get everything put together. Wendal came down to the river when we were ready to run the first test.
We lowered the wheel into the stream, and slowly it began to turn and pick up speed. Stebbins had left a couple of wires exposed to run the test, their stripped ends less than an inch apart. We all watched the wires, hoping to see them arc. Sure enough, after a few seconds, there was a spark, a puff of smoke, then a steady arc of electricity bridging the gap between the two wires.
There was a loud cheer from the crowd watching the experiment. We raised the wheel again and congratulated Greg and Stebbins. That night there was another party, and Greg immediately began planning another salvaging expedition to find useable power lines and lights for the village. In less than five minutes he had about twenty volunteers willing to go along and help.
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The next two weeks seemed to fly past. It had been a mild winter and spring was coming on again. I was glad to see Alecia and Beth had bonded. At first Beth was reluctant to share a house with a Dreg, but after a couple of days, when Alecia had made no attempt to go for her throat, Beth accepted her and even started treating her like a little sister.
Meanwhile Hiller and Banks had settled their troop on the western edge of town and were waiting for their scouts to return. And with the help of the troop, various changes became apparent. Irrigation ditches in the fields were improved. Houses were fixed up and made more secure. The village guards were instructed in new security methods. There was a rumor going around that some of the villagers were going to start a petition to let them stay.
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Greg and his party had returned with three carts full of salvaged power lines and incandescent lights, which they immediately began installing around town. There were also plans to go looking for another generator in case the one we had broke down.
Alecia and I went to visit Doc Thayer once a week. She was more animated and open than ever, but there was no trace of her former personality and her speech was a mental struggle. It was just as Wendal said: changes had happened because of The Fall, and they could never be undone.
Beth had moved in with me with Captain Hiller's blessing, but he made sure to remind her that she was still a part of his troop and had responsibilities. I myself was finally starting to get used to having a home. But every once in a while, I would stare off into the distance and find myself missing the open country. I guess there would always be a wanderer's spirit in me.
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At long last, Hiller's scouts returned. Wendal and I were summoned to Hiller's house again. The scouts had caught up with the raiders in Willowhall, three days travel southeast from Folly. There they learned that The Pack's base was down south in the ruins of D.C. We immediately began preparations to start out in three days.
End of file.
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Three days later...
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I wanted this business over as quickly as possible so I could return to Alecia and keep my promise. There had been tears and anger when I left Folly. Her vocabulary had improved very little, but she knew enough words to tell me exactly what she thought of my promises.
I tried to explain that this was something I needed to do first, but she ran away back towards town. On the day we left, she made a brief appearance from the doorway of our house. I gave her a hug which she tolerated more than anything else. I promised her that when I came back, it would be for good. She didn't reply.
Every night since then, I've been having the dream of looking for her in the forest, only now I couldn't see or hear her at all. Before, she peeked at me from behind the trees and I could hear her laugh, now I was all alone in the forest, running around and calling her name.
Then, when I woke up in the early hours, I felt that I had truly lost her. All that was left was this strange, wild girl who looked like my sister. I knew then that the part of her that was my sister was dead. There, in the dark hours before dawn, alone, I wept. No matter what happened after, no matter what was accomplished, I had failed her.
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I never considered myself much of a patriot, but when I saw the ruins of D.C., I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. The enormity of all that was lost came crashing down on me in that one instant. All that I had seen in my years of wandering had been nothing compared to this.
Before I had only seen various, isolated parts of the country that had been destroyed. Now I was looking at what had been the heart and soul of the country, and a little part of me curled up and died inside.
Captain Hiller and his troops stood silently by, and I could tell they were experiencing similar feelings of loss. On the side of the road, before the ruins of the nation's capitol, we mourned and honored the memory of our country with a moment of silence.
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"All right," said Cabbott, one of Hiller's scouts. "We observed the raiders congregating near the White House, so we should set up our recon near there to confirm their location."
"Good," said Hiller. "After that we start picking off out-going groups just outside of the city. That will buy us time, since they won't be expected back for at least a week or two."
"So where do we make camp?" I asked.
"From what information we've gathered," said Cabbott, "They usually start their rounds by going to Fireside in the north-west. So we should make camp on that side of the city, then we wait."
"Sounds good to me," I said, shifting my shoulders inside the body armor Captain Hiller had given me. I just couldn't get used to the feel and weight of it.
Captain Hiller posted Cabbott and Smith, the other scout, with orders to retreat for camp as soon as a group started out. The rest of us cautiously made our way to the east side of the city. There were massive craters and the burnt remains of houses and buildings everywhere.
The broken stumps of trees were scattered on the ground like Lincoln Logs; blown away by the shockwave of landing meteorites. There was nothing but devastation all around us, and not a sound except a few birds here and there.
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We made camp under half an overpass that had fallen and made a perfect lean-to. There we did the only thing we could do: we waited. Beth and I usually sat together outside our tent, not talking much, just being together and taking comfort from the other's presence.
It was almost a week later when the first group of raiders departed from the city. Cabbott and Smith came running back to camp just after sun-up, reporting that a group of twenty had just set out. Captain Hiller shouted out his orders and the troop quickly got ready and moved out to intercept the raiders.
I marched in formation beside Beth and Stebbins. We came to a clearing that offered plenty of cover all around. Captain Hiller gave us the hand signal to spread out and hide. About fifteen minutes later we saw the raiders approaching at a leisurely pace. Four of them were driving horse drawn carts, probably for carrying back appropriated goods. Bastards.
I thumbed off the safety of my shotgun, loaded with deer slugs with about twenty more in a bandolier across my chest. Beth and Stebbins checked their M-16's. Beth, Stebbins, and I made our way around to the raiders left flank and waited for Hiller's signal.
It was a slow hell waiting for the raiders to move into position. Sweat trickled down my back and under my borrowed body armor. Beth reach over and squeezed my hand, as much to reassure me as herself.
The first of the raiders came into range. I raised my gun and took aim, waiting for the signal. Soon all twenty were in the "hot zone," but still the signal didn't come. Was something wrong? I tried to locate where Captain Hiller was from my hiding place. There! He was watching the raiders intently, and I could now see he was waiting for them to be in the very center of the perimeter.
"NOW!" he cried, springing up from his hiding place and firing his rifle. All around the clearing Hiller's troops and myself all broke cover and charged at the raiders, neatly cutting them down. It only lasted for a few seconds, but everything seemed to slow down and take at least ten minutes.
The raiders were taken completely by surprise and didn't have a chance to fight back. Captain Hiller ordered the bodies taken away and disposed of. We took the horses and carts back to the camp site. The carts were burned and the horses were cooked. It was encouraging to have a victory feast after so many days of anxious waiting.
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Two days later, another group of raiders were returning to the city, and we almost weren't ready for them. A soldier by the name of Wilkes, who was on watch that afternoon, came running back to camp calling for the Captain. We scrambled back to the clearing, which someone had dubbed "Ground Zero," and took our positions.
It was a bigger party than the last one, probably joined by another group or two on the way back to their base. I did a quick count and estimated there was about forty. We were clearly outnumbered, but we still had the element of surprise.
"I don't care what happens or who's giving the orders," I whispered to Beth, "You stay down and shoot from cover, you got me?"
Beth smiled and gave me a quick peck on the side of my mouth.
"You just look after yourself, mister," she whispered back, "I happen to be very good at my job, thank you very much!"
"Good has nothing to do with it. One stray shot can make all the difference, and you know it."
Whatever reply she had was cut off when Captain Hiller gave the signal and started firing. Before I could do anything, Beth had broken cover with Stebbins and was charging down to Ground Zero.
"Dammit woman!" I growled following her while firing at the raiders. All around me there was chaos. Gun shots, screaming, smoke, and dust. I shot any raiders I could see until my gun was empty. With no time to reload, I slung it onto my back and drew my sword.
In all the confusion I had lost track of Beth, but I was forced to think of my own safety when I suddenly found myself confronted by three raiders who had managed to break through the line of Hiller's troops. Only one had a pistol, so I had to try to take him out first. I rushed at him with my sword aimed at his heart. He fired his gun and I felt like someone had hit me in the ribs with a pillow wrapped around a sledge hammer.
I followed through with my thrust and killed the raider with the gun. With no time to pull my sword free from