The Fall - Ch 1

         Mike sat in front of the fireplace, watching the flames slowly eat away at the logs. The gentle crack and pop of the wood was lulling him to sleep. He was also wondering how much gas was left in the generator, and wondering what to do once it was gone. He only started it when absolutely necessary. So for the most part it only ran for about 10 hours every week. He ran it long enough for the clothes to be dried each week, and when the sun was out he didn’t even use the dryer, and every night when he used the short-wave radio system. His head shook slowly, causing the shoulder length brown hair to slide out of the rough leather tie.

         The cabin was pretty much devoid of anything that wasn’t needed to have a functional life. There was a bed in one of the rooms off the main foyer/lobby, a kitchen complete with a beat up refrigerator and stove that both ran off the 500 gallon propane tank that was attached at the side of the house, well water that was filtered enough to drink and had enough pressure to keep running water, and a tank on the roof that he would use to capture the rain on warmer days and that connected to the outdoor shower stall. The cabin had electricity for now, thanks to an old Honda generator that was still plugging away. In the shed out back were a Polaris Snowmobile and a Yamaha four wheeler, so there was transportation if Mike needed it. The shed was about 30 yards from the house on the opposite side as the propane tank. The walls of the cabin were full size logs stacked eight high with mud used to fill the gaps from the outside.

         The inside was nicely done, but sparsely furnished. The walls were covered in wood paneling to help insulate the cabin in the winter. There was a comfortable, overstuffed leather sofa in front of the fireplace. Until recently there was a large screen TV hanging over the fireplace, but Mike had removed that since the power was out and not likely to come back on any time soon. The only other technical equipment in the cabin was the cameras and tripods that were the trademark of a good nature photographer. The counter between the kitchen and dining room had a bunch of flowers in a smooth vase that helped the cabin to feel a bit more like home. Alexis had always kept flowers in the dining room in the house in Baltimore.

         The cabin itself was secure, if only because of the snow that was filling him with amazement at the moment. There was over 14 inches of powdery white snow outside.

         “Snow in August”, Mike said to the empty room. “Ya gotta love the law of unintended consequences.”

         This would have made for a beautiful scene with the Appalachian Mountains in the background, if not for the smoke that could still be seen rising slowly from the south-east on clear days. The cabin was in the area around Branchville, New Jersey, about 50 miles from New York. During the 9/11 attacks the smoke rising from the Towers and the dust plume when they came down was visible for hours afterwards. Mike figured this current smoke plume would last a lot longer.

         New York City, how could it be completely gone? Who would have thought that possible? And the fact that it happened in less than 5 minutes made it seem more of a magic trick than a tragedy. The French managed to do what terror groups had tried in small groups, and what the Russians and others had planned for years. The day that it happened was somewhat ironic too, either through design, or just in one of those twists of irony that Lady Fate like to throw at the world. July 4th, once the most special of American holidays, would now forever be known as the day the world ended.

         Mike wondered if the people there even knew what hit them. Would they have seen the flash? Heard any noise? Or would they have just been interrupted mid-word and ceased to exist as the fireball passed over them? And could anyone have possibly survived the initial blasts? Mike doubted it. Nine years as an Army nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons specialist had trained him that at ground zero, there was about a 1% chance of survival, and most of that would be luck. And that was if only one long range nuclear was detonated. New York City had been hit with no less than five.

         Most of the major cities in the northeast were decimated, along with almost all the major cites throughout the world. Washington DC, Atlanta, Los Angeles, Seattle, Denver, Paris, Madrid, London, all of them were gone.

         There were survivors out there. He spoke with them over short-wave radio each night. At least, he would until the generator ran out of fuel. Then he would have to leave the cabin to find better shelter and someplace that could be better defended. Mike spent most nights trying to find out if Alexis and Zoë were still alive. So far he hadn’t been able to confirm anything, but he refused to give up hope. Michelle was another concern, since Zoe’s birth mother was not nearly as strong as Alexis. Michelle had been pampered most of her life, and would not be dealing well in this post-catastrophe world. Alexis on the other hand, was a stronger person who had to fight for everything she had ever gotten in this world.

         The other survivors had told him the stories of looting and death that were taking place in other areas. The cabin was too easily approached with no warning. He had set up noise makers using twine and cans buried in the snow, but these were hit or miss. The cabin was surrounded with tall trees on all sides, except for the trail with deep tire ruts that was cut back to the main road. There was not much in the cabin worth much money, but he knew that money was not necessarily what people were looking for.

         He decided to go out and see what wildlife he could find to put together for dinner. He grabbed his 12-gauge side-by-side and walked out into the warm snow. This never failed to amaze him, but though the snow was cold in itself, the air was in the mid-fifties. He was wearing the cold-weather boots that went with the winter weight camouflage bottoms that he had on. Then he had a t-shirt and dark green hoodie on top. He was wearing a baseball hat turned backwards to keep the sun off the back of his neck, sunglasses that were polarized to try to stop the UV and the glare, and had a goatee and mustache that were the same light brown as his hair.

         As he started to walk away from the cabin after locking the door he looked down the tunnel formed by the trees next to the road. He raised his face to the sky and felt the snowflakes cooling the skin of his face, while the sun warmed it. With his eyes still closed, he lowered his face and started walking forward. Once he reached what he knew was the shaded area near the trees he opened his ice blue eyes. He did this for a few reasons, first and foremost, the sun reflecting off the snow and ice always hurt his head. The second reason was because, as any blind person knows, when you take away any of the five senses, your other senses become enhanced to make up for it. So, by closing his eyes, he forced his hearing to get better.

         Once he got to the woods he went about 40 yards in and turned to his left and looped back around so that he was looking towards the front door. He did this every time he left to make sure that no one was watching the cabin, waiting for him to leave so that they could steal whatever they found useful. He knew that some of the guns would disappear quickly, as would the radio and the handheld CB. After waiting for about 20 minutes and seeing and hearing no movement he headed in the direction of the stream. He knew with the new snow he would be able to tell where the animals were coming to drink. There should be at least some rabbit that direction, and twice in the last month he had managed to get a deer.

         He reached the hill that overlooked the stream and sat down underneath the overhang that gave him a view of both banks of the stream. As he sat there he thought back to that day again. Reality faded somewhat as he remembered back like he always did in this spot.