Life After
Episode 1
by
JJ Holden
Following a civil war that left the United States in
ruins, the remaining few who managed to escape the Imperialistic
Army and the horrors of their death camps must unite and fight to
reclaim their country.
Copyright © 2014 by JJ Holden
jjholdenbooks.blogspot.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters,
and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons,
living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.
* * *
A loud boom followed the flash of light and echoed
through the valley. The man sat near the fireplace that contained
only remnants of the winter that was a fading memory. He looked out
the only window and could not see anything but darkness beyond the
glass. The sound of rain hitting the tin roof joined the howls of
wind and the crack of lightning that seemed never-ending.
Too much time passed since he had seen another human
being. Time slowed to a crawl as he spent day after day in
solitude.
The last time he read a newspaper, it was canvassed
by the horrendous events occurring at the time. Floods,
earthquakes, droughts, terrorist attacks, economic depressions,
government crackdowns, concentration camps, total takeover, and
eventually, total annihilation. The last headline he viewed in his
old life read: “Is The End Already Here?”
Sitting alone in his cabin, he knew the answer to
that headline. There was a reason he escaped to the wilderness and
survived off of the land for over two years. Unlike many
unfortunate souls that perished in the collapsing civilization, he
owned a large tract of land with enough trees to cloak his
minuscule structure.
Though small in size, his cabin was somewhat
fortified. Having been an avid follower of current events, and a
dedicated student of history, he planned in advance for a complete
fallout. He hoped that his preparation was similar to an insurance
policy, and not what it ended up becoming: a necessity.
Fighting off scavengers and looters became a thing of
the past, as all those who posed a threat had already perished in
the particularly cruel winter. Now spring was nearing its end and
summer was soon to be ushered in.
He rose from his chair and walked towards the metal
door which separated him from the brutal world. He checked the
locks again, a constant habit born from having many close-calls.
Once the door was checked for the countless time for the day, he
walked towards the center of the cabin and stood on the frayed rug
that furnished his meager dwelling. He stood at the exact spot
where a trap door was located. This combination locked door led to
a bomb shelter, another insurance policy, one which had yet to pay
dividends.
Inside the bomb shelter, he stored as much food and
water that would fit into the small space. The food he kept
consisted mostly of dehydrated meals with expiration days that
spanned decades. The water was mostly rain water, which he bottled
after treating it. He listened to the rain and knew that every drop
that hit his roof was run into several large drums that lay outside
the walls of his compound. Every drop represented moments added
onto his fragile existence.
With wet weather, water was not so much of a problem,
but food was a different story. He had to do everything he could to
prepare for the following winter, which meant gathering whatever
berries and fruits he could
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