For a species to endure, there must be a continuum of luck, skill and conditions conducive to survival. The weak, unskilled or unlucky are culled, the agile or fortunate are left to carry on. The story goes on, but the story-teller changes. History is written by the survivors.
Want to read the entire story? Paperback and Ebook are available on Amazon (cut and paste link into your browser) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RRGMQXH?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
To experience more of the story, learn interesting facts about the setting, ask questions of the author and more, visit the After The Virus - A Surviralist's Journal Facebook Group.
And if you're enjoying the story please SHARE on Social Media. Thank you!
For a species to endure, there must be a continuum of luck, skill and conditions conducive to survival. The weak, unskilled or unlucky are culled, the agile or fortunate are left to carry on. The story goes on, but the story-teller changes. History is written by the survivors.
Want to read the entire story? Paperback and Ebook are available on Amazon (cut and paste link into your browser) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RRGMQXH?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
To experience more of the story, learn interesting facts about the setting, ask questions of the author and more, visit the After The Virus - A Surviralist's Journal Facebook Group.
And if you're enjoying the story please SHARE on Social Media. Thank you!
What you thought you knew about who’s journal this is, is rocked at the end of this episode. It’s not just one person’s tale, it’s survival of the ideal, of the baton being passed so that someone perseveres and the tiny ember of goodness keeps burning.
Episode 11 is a little shorter than most … because there’s a major change in the story. What you thought you knew about who’s journal this is, is rocked at the end of this episode. It’s not just one person’s tale, it’s survival of the ideal, of the baton being passed so that someone perseveres and the tiny ember of goodness keeps burning.
Because Episode 11 was abbreviated my holiday gift to you is two episodes in one week…so watch for Episode 12 to be released earlier than usual. Wishing you a new and improved 2021!
At the end of the last episode Hope was doctoring Will after their traumatic encounter with Dusty and Billy
We went back to the cave where Hope again cleaned my ear and modified a fish hook to stitch it to my head. Then we talked through the events of the dreadful day.
July 31
Got very hot again. Spent days at the creek making baskets, etc. No sign of Billy and Dusty.
August 1
Oppressive heat today. We are about to pack our things and move upslope towards the mountain.
August 2
Walked most of last night in the light of the full moon to avoid the heat of the day - the trail along Mill Creek is well worn from hundreds of years of use and relatively easy to follow. We find a shady overhanging bank next to the creek and nap during the hottest part of the day.
Caught crawdads in the late afternoon and roasted them on some coals. We will walk through the night again.
Arrived at the large basalt monolith known as Black Rock after dawn. This formation was a sacred spot to the Native Americans in prehistoric times and later a landmark for white travelers. A campground on the west side of the creek showed signs of post-virus occupation - trashed, with two abandoned trucks, burned and melted camping equipment - but no recent indication of human habitation. By mid-morning it was very hot so we found a shady spot next to a small waterfall and napped for a few hours. In the afternoon we bathed and washed and dried our clothes on hot rocks next to the creek. My ear is not healing well and may be infected. Hope cleaned it and again bound it with the freshly washed bandana. Will hike again tonight.
August 3
Only walked about half the night last night, temperature a little cooler. Slept four or five hours. Woke to clouds. Made tea and foraged for food, found many blackberries. Began walking again in late morning. /
In the late afternoon we could make out the hum of a distant generator. Climbing the eastern slope we got to a spot where we could see upstream. There ahead of us on the opposite bank was the small vacation community of Mill Creek, and a thin plume of smoke, which along with the generator told us it was occupied. Once upon a time this little hamlet of fifty or so vacation homes provided a peaceful weekend getaway for people from the valley. Now there was no telling what we might find.
Careful not to be spotted, even from this distance, we backed up into a densely treed ravine and set up a temporary camp.
It is now dusk and I am leaving Hope here while I go investigate.
August 11
This Hope.
It has taken me a week to get the desire or nerve to write. The events beginning the night we arrived above the Mill Creek cabins are almost too horrible to think about, but I feel as though I must honor Will’s desire to keep a record of my post-viral existence.
That night a week ago Will left around nightfall and I was scared alone there, so close to an occupied settlement. Every encounter I’ve had with humans over the last months (except Will) has been bad, nothing but evil, scary people. But I had the rifle there in the dark for protection.
I guess I actually slept for a while because I was jolted upright sometime after midnight by three shots in rapid succession. I didn’t know if it was somebody shooting at Will, Will shooting at someone, or Will giving the three-shot “I need help” signal. If it was Will, it would have to be serious for him to waste three of our precious six handgun bullets.
Terrified and worried, I took the rifle and began to creep, ever so slowly, through the trees and shrubs towards the village and the location of the shots. It took me a couple of hours to get to a pretty densely-vegetated point immediately across the creek from the cabins. It was still dark, so I sat motionless waiting for the visibility to improve.
It was really quiet. Nothing was moving on the other side of the creek. As dawn began to lighten, I could make out the shapes of trees and the blocky shadows of cabins set well back from the shore. When it became light enough for me to feel comfortable, I waded the creek scanning up and downstream between each step. Reaching the far bank, I hid behind a tree and continued to watch for signs of danger or of Will.
As I was at the lower end of the cabins, I decided to sneak up the creekside, keeping the water next to me for escape if needed. As I crept along the bank I had my first indication of trouble: Will had taught me how to make numerous animal snares and traps, and in 100 feet of walking I easily found and avoided 3 traps - a large animal twitch-up, a pitfall and a deadfall, all sized for bear.
What came next nearly paralyzed me with fear. What looked like a trash pile just beyond the snares was littered with bones - human bones, some with flesh still attached. There off to the side of the pile was a head that I recognized - it was Billy, the refugee we had befriended who had betrayed us.
I knew that if Will was still alive I needed to find him quickly - this was a death camp, or a slaughterhouse. I feared for my life, but I feared for him more, so I continued on watching carefully for traps.
I came to a small opening. There I saw a body hanging upside down from a tree limb, as a hunter might hang a deer. The form was intact except for the absence of a right hand, a bloody rag tied around the stump. My heart sank - the camouflage sweatshirt, the nearby daypack...it was Will, the man who had saved my life, hanging lifeless.
I wanted to run to him, but he had taught me caution and patience, so I stood for a while weeping, considering my next move. Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of my neck as I heard someone approaching in the distance.
Nearly immobilized with fear, instinct kicked in and I faded into the low branches of a small fir. The shape became a man dressed in tattered clothing and animal skins, his face was a hideous purple mask of rough leathery skin that extended down to his chest and arms...burns.
Dragging one leg, he limped toward Will. As he neared Will’s body he opened his garments and withdrew a 2-foot long saw.
The instant he exposed the saw, my body went into action. I swung the rifle to my shoulder and my cheek clapped against the cold metal receiver. Just as the burned man raised his head in response to my movement, my right eye lined up the front and rear metal sights. As he stopped to consider what I was, the muzzle barked…once, twice, three times, four times, five times it roared as I advanced on the now spasming figure. As I stood over him, the stench nearly overpowered me, but not until I brought the butt of the now empty rifle down as hard as I could into his face bursting his nose and breaking his teeth. It was the last thing I remember for a while, until I came to, curled in a ball just feet from him.
Turning my thoughts to Will, I struggled with what to do next. It occurred to me that perhaps I should bury him, to keep his body from scavengers. Looking around for any other threats, it appeared that the burned man had been the only other human in this camp. I went to Will’s limp form and stared at him.