After The Past - 1. Chapter 1

After The Past

A Journal

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There are many ghost cities and towns left, and they are filled with the detritus of the past. They are overflowing with so much shit we can’t use now. Excess is the best way to describe life before the Future. Cellphones, computers, and self-driving cars fill those old stores and homes, and are all but useless to us here, now. We can’t produce the batteries or waste the little solar-electricity we can make on them. Gasoline reserves are nearly finished.

What happened? Was it bombs? Was it war, or a group of crazy terrorists, or a zombie apocalypse? No, it was microscopic. It was the I.R. Virus—no one remembered now what I.R. stood for—and anyone who may have is now dead. Not that it matters.

Each year from 2045 onward, strains of the disease mutated so quickly the WHO or CDC couldn’t develop vaccines quickly enough, and every year more and more people succumbed to the ever-changing disease. Finally the deaths stopped, leaving pockets of people, but many more men than women.

What did you think the future would be like? I’ve read that people thought there would be flying cars, happy people, and lots of free time? Wrong, wrong and wrong. I was born just before the Past ended. I grew up in the Future. It’s hard and it’s rough. I’ve read about the Past; sometimes I think I’d rather live there than here.

Chapter 1

It was in a Dunphy’s parking lot where I first saw the boy.

Why some Dunphy’s are open I don’t know. It’s an old auto parts chain, and they closed a long ago. There was very little traffic now, but you might see a truck or motorcycle now and again. People came here to scavenge parts, but people use it for more, though not as often now. Inside this store you can find notes. Notes from people who were searching for loved ones or seeking information about people they lost and want to find. Some locals also gathered here to talk and use the pool table in the back of the store.

Anyway, some mean-ass trucker had the kid by the neck, holding him face down on the hood of a car; he was naked below the waist with his pants puddled at his ankles. He struggled to escape while the trucker fumbled with his own trousers. I could hear the kid begging—please don’t, please don’t, please don’t—over and over again. His assailant just laughed and spit on his now-exposed penis.

I couldn’t watch the boy be raped, so I stepped out of the shadows with my weapon in my hands. “Step away from him now, asshole, or you’re gonna be dead.” My hunting rifle could take down this bastard with no problem. I’ve always been a good shot and done my fair share of hunting—taking out this sucker would be easy work.

The driver let go of the kid and stepped back, hands up. “Okay man, okay. It was just a bit of fun. Anyway, he owes me.”

“Yeah? How’s he owe you?” I moved up a few steps, my weapon trained on the trucker.

“I drove him here. He said he’d pay for his ride.”

The boy pulled up his britches. “I said I’d work for you. Clean your truck, fetch stuff, but you said that’s not what you wanted once we got here.”

I stared down the trucker. “Just get out of here.” I waved the rifle toward the building.

The trucker walked away and went inside Dunphy’s. I'd hoped not find other guys to help him out.

I glanced at the boy, who still appeared scared. “Damn it, kid, we gotta get out of here. He may be back with friends. Get in the truck.”

Shaking his head, he backed away.

I’d just about had it, and hissed at him, “Kid, get in the fuckin’ truck. I’m not gonna hurt you. Your buddy may be back in a few minutes with help. I’m going; you can stay or come, up to you.”

I walked to my pickup, got in, and put my weapon in the gun rack behind me. Finally figuring I was the lesser of two evils, the boy decided to join me.

Jamming the key in the ignition, I turned it and was relieved she started on the first try. I drove calmly out of the lot but picked up speed as we distanced ourselves from Dunphy’s parking lot.

He sat as far from me as he could. I like to watch the road, but I turned my head a few times to check out my passenger. He was a handsome kid, in his mid-twenties I’d guess. Probably would scrub up decently. He was too skinny, but most of us were now. Obesity was no longer a health issue, but starving to death was—every-day.

“My farm is small but, I manage to raise and grow enough food to stay alive. Most years there’s enough to trade as well,” I told him. These days if you offered food, single boys would usually be all over you.

He just grunted and nodded.

“Yeah, well. Just trying to make conversation.” I slowed the truck and checked the rear view. I couldn’t see anyone behind me so I turned left onto a small dirt track that wound its way through the mountains into the valley where I lived.

It was a slow drive at night and my passenger was asleep when I finally parked by my little house. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

I got out of the truck, got my scavenged supplies out of the back, and climbed the three steps to the porch and unlocked my door. I could feel him behind me. “Come on in.” We stepped inside and I closed the door, locked it and pulled down the reinforcements. I lit the two lanterns and put one on the kitchen table and the other on the countertop. I turned and could see him peering into the darkness of the house.

“There’s only me that lives here. Have a seat at the table; I’ll fix us something to eat.” I busied myself breaking that morning’s eggs into a metal bowl. I found the bread knife, opened the breadbox, took out a loaf, and carried everything to the table. “Here, cut four slices. Try to make them not too thick.”

He took the knife and stood up. He began to slice. “Thanks for helping me. You didn’t have to.”

I chuckled, “Didn’t I? So you wanted that gorilla to bang you then?”

“No, but—”

“Hey, it’s cool. He needed to be stopped and that’s what happened.” I turned around to see four well-cut slices of bread on the table. “Hey, that’s good. I’ll cook the eggs. There’s some fresh water there in the bucket, butter in that blue dish, and mugs and forks there. Want to set the table?”

“Sure.” He poured us water and placed the butter, mugs and cutlery.

I scraped the scrambled eggs onto two plates and we sat down. I make butter every week and I spread some on my bread. We ate in silence, too hungry to waste time talking. There was nothing else until breakfast.

Now and again I stole some glances at my guest. As I say, he was a handsome kid, and he had a tattoo on his face—three small blood red tears, on his cheek, under his left eye. Not too interested in ink myself; those little tears kind of fascinated me. I guess me staring made him uncomfortable because he moved his hand to cover the tattoo.

As we shoveled in the last bites and washed it down with water, he met my gaze. “My name’s Jae. Thanks for the food.”

“David. You’re welcome.” I stood up and took our dishes to the counter. “I have a spare room you’re welcome to. I’ll take you up there.”

I gave him a lantern and we climbed the stairs. “Here you go. The bed isn’t made but there are sheets and blankets there. The bathroom is right here. Of course we don’t have a flush toilet, just use the bucket in there. I’ll empty it in the morning.”

Jae went into the room then, but I said, “Hey, please blow out the lantern before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

I turned and walked down the stairs. I made sure everything was locked and shuttered before I turned in myself.

With no work to go to, and no need for alarm clocks, people wake and sleep based on their rhythms and the days—it was no different for me. I usually woke when the sun came up.

I pried my eyes open when I heard noise coming from the kitchen. I grabbed the axe I leave propped next to the bed. Dressed in only my boxers, I started downstairs. Midway I stopped, and peeked around, looking back into the kitchen. Jae was in there rooting around in the cupboards.

“Maybe I can help you. What are you looking for?”

Poor kid, he stood up quickly and turned to face me. His expression heart-wrenching and made me wonder about what he’d been through before that trucker got hold of him. I took in his strong-but-slim form, where a few good meals wouldn’t go amiss. His ass was nice and tight, and well, the bulge in front his y-fronts was very tempting. He pulled his shirt tighter around himself, like it could protect him.

I held up my hands. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just tell me what you’re after.”

Jae seemed to relax a little. “Coffee; I thought I’d make you some.”

“Aw, thanks. It would be a treat waking up to that. I do have a little bit of coffee. I keep it in the cold store. You’ll need footwear to go in there though.” I went to the mudroom which was just off the kitchen, set down the axe, and found a couple pairs of old sneakers, and brought them back to the kitchen. “Here, see if these fit you.”

He dropped the shoes onto the floor and slipped his slim feet into them, and I did the same. I smiled at him and motioned for him to follow. I opened the basement door and peered down; while I could find my way without light, Jae could not. We needed it for the cold room anyway.

“Hold on, let’s take a lamp with us. It’s pretty dark down there. Can you light that one on the counter?”

Nodding, Jae did just that and handed me the glowing lantern.

I grabbed a fruit basket from the small shelf on the side of stairs; it would do for putting a few jars in, if we found something we wanted.

“Okay come on. Watch your step though. There’s a railing on the right.” I held the light up and descended the stairs slowly, and I heard Jae’s steps behind me. Once we reached the bottom, I turned left to the crawlspace.

Actually it was double the size of a normal crawlspace, so it was more like a bent-double space. However, it was unfinished, so it was quite cool. I’d taken some particleboard and Styrofoam that had been lying around and built a small cold room in there. It had shelves and a door.

“You need to bend over and watch where you’re walking,” I said as I ducked into the space. We shuffled along and then I pushed open the door of the cold room. Jae joined me inside and focused on the preserved veggies and various jams I had put up.

“You have strawberry jam?”

He said it almost reverently, so I couldn’t refuse him. “Take a jar upstairs. We’ll have some bread and jam for breakfast.”

I found a tub of coffee—I actually had three—and put that, the jam, and a jar of preserved veggies in the little basket. Then we left the cold storage and returned upstairs. After putting out the light, I placed it back on the countertop and the basket next to it.

I’d learned to make a lot of stuff myself, including semi-fine wheat and oat flour, which I turned into bread. It was a bit rough, but it tasted good with the butter I made.

I turned to Jae. “Don’t know about you, but I’m cold, so I think getting dressed is in order.”

He nodded and I led the way upstairs. I let Jae use the ‘toilet’ I’d put together first, while I made my bed. I found I like keeping things in order and tidy better than letting them go.

I pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans from my closet and turned around to find Jae standing there.

“You okay?”

He nodded and moved closer, and then suddenly he was pressed against me, arms encircling me. I automatically held him too. Oh, he smelled so good. It had been such a long time since I’d held anyone, and I could feel his erection pressing into my thigh. I closed my eyes and reveled in the touch of his body and hardness. I felt his hand on my dick as he tugged down on my boxers. I watched him slide down to his knees in front of me before I came to my senses.

“Whoa, Jae. Stop.” I pulled him to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“You … I … I thought you’d like it.”

I smiled at him, while pulling up my boxers. “Oh, I liked it. But we don’t know each other.”

“I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing. Nothing that you need to pay for like that.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Oh, shit kid. I liked it. I liked it a lot.” I pushed his hair from his eyes. “But not cuz I think you owe me. Okay?”

He gazed at me sadly, but also with fear. “Please, I … can’t ….”

He was breaking my heart. “You can’t what? Tell you what, let’s make some coffee and have some bread and jam, and talk a bit. Go and dress, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Okay, Jae? Don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay, Dave.” He smiled a little and went to his room.

Shit, it would have been so easy and so good to just let him blow me. For years it’s been me, my hand, and imagination. The hug was amazing, just on its own. I spent a moment gazing outside my bedroom window.

Enough dreaming. I got dressed and ran downstairs to start our coffee.

I blew on the embers in the stove and added wood. While that started to burn, I put coffee and water into the old fashioned percolator, and put it on top of the small wood burning stove.

I heard Jae’s steps behind me. I turned around and pointed to the bread on the table. “Can you slice a couple of pieces each?”

“Sure.”

“You ever had toast done over an open fire?”

“No, Dave. I bet it’s good though.” Jae sliced the bread perfectly.

“You’re good at that. You’ve done it before.”

He nodded, but said nothing else. I felt in my bones there was a lot more to tell.

I got out my homemade toasting rack and showed Jae how I set it up. “Okay? So then we just hold it over the front grate of the stove. You need to check regularly and then turn it over. ‘K?”

He nodded and smiled.

“Great, I’ll set the table.” I put out plates, knives, the butter; I opened the jam and placed it on the table.

“Dave, the toast is done. I’ll bring it over.”

Jae plated the toast and I poured our coffee and a glass of water each. We sat down and buttered our hot crunchy slices. I watched Jae add jam to his and take a bite.

I smiled as I said, “So?”

“Oh, man. It’s so good, David.”

“Well, enjoy it. Not sure how long we can make it for, unless we grow sugar beets to make sugar. Not sure how that would work.”

We finished eating our small breakfast and drank our coffee. We were on our second cup when I asked Jae a few questions. “Jae, who are you running from?”

I thought I glimpsed fear pass over his face. I was sure I’d struck a chord.

“No one, Dave.”

“Jae, if you’re going to lie to me, we can’t do this.” I swallowed my coffee. “I’m going out to the barn to milk the cow; feed the chickens. I’ll expect this mess cleaned up and then I’ll drive you out to the highway so you can hope for a ride or walk.”

I didn’t listen to his protests at that point, but went out to the barn to get my morning chores done. I’d finished milking the cow and letting her out to the pasture when I noticed Jae. Ignoring him, I filled the chicken’s feed bucket and went out into the yard. He followed me.

“Take a handful and toss it like this.” I showed him how to scatter the feed and gave him the bucket.

He tossed out a few handfuls in silence and then said, “There were three of them. They … they kept me. I was … like their slave.”

There was a lot of this happening now. History had taught most of us little. Men would subdue and keep others as slaves. The slaves would do all the work, like keeping the house, cooking and be used sexually too. For obvious reasons the slave would be younger, slim not too big, that way he’d be easier for a group of men to control. Women? There were a few left, but I hadn’t seen one for the last three years around here.

“How long were you with them?”

He threw the last handful of feed to the chickens. “Last autumn till a couple of weeks back.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” I watched the chickens pecking at their feed. “How did you get away from them?”

“They used to take me to the river to wash their clothes and myself. It was a section where the river was quiet. Further out in the middle there were rapids. They were dangerous and they told me to stay in the shallow part.”

I pulled him along as I went to check on the nests in the chicken coop. “So, what did you do?”

“I … the night before … all three of them had me in bed … one at a time was bad enough. Anyway I was hurting, fed up, and my options were to stay or take my chances in the rapids. So I let some laundry get away from me. I went after it and pretended to slip; I pushed myself into the rapids and tried to keep myself under water till I was away from them.”

“Jesus, Jae. How long were you in the river?” I checked each nest box for eggs and put the successful finds in a basket.

“I don’t know. The rapids stopped finally so I got out, but I had nothing on—they always made me strip.”

Jae copied me and found a couple of eggs himself. His shit-eating grin made me think he’d found the Holy Grail.

“I had cuts and bruises, but I walked for a while until I came across a farm. I saw a woman and called to her. I think she wanted to shoot me, but I begged her—told her what I’d gotten away from, and she gave me old blue jeans, a shirt and these old boots. I’d started to walk away but she stopped me. Gave me a big sandwich and some cheese and then she directed me to the highway.”

“And that good-hearted trucker picked you up?” I concluded for him.

Jae nodded. I handed him the basket of eggs. “Well you’re safe here. But we need to talk about things, if you decide you want to stay on. Tell me something—the truth. You told the trucker you’d help him. You had no plan to, did you?”

“No.”

“So, what was your plan?” I shot him a look as we walked back home with the milk and eggs from that morning.

“Don’t know. I’d offer to fuck him I guess, if he caught me before I ran.”

“Jesus, boy, you’re gonna get yourself killed playing these stupid games.”

“I know, David. Maybe I won’t have to do that stuff anymore.”

I pulled the door to the mudroom open. We took off our shoes and put the milk and eggs on the table. “No, hopefully you won’t.”

This life isn’t what I’d had before. It came the hard way to me after the food started to run out in the city. I decided I wanted to live away from there, so I drove away one day with a few supplies and found this place. I learned by trial and error until I’d gone into town, dug around in an old bookstore and found a copy of the “Book of the Farm” by Henry Stephens. It was a book on Victorian-era farming practices, which is just what I needed.

I didn’t keep a lot of chickens, but I usually had about three to six eggs a day. They aren’t pets so I don’t name them. They’ll lay, then after about a year, they’ll be stuffed or stewed. I’ll allow one or two to mate and then allow those eggs to be hatched now and again, so I have meat sometimes, or when it’s time to replace a hen.

My problem is my cow; I’m letting her dry up, as she’ll soon give birth. So our milk supply will be zero for a couple of months, but I’m putting up a little butter in the cold room to see us through part of that time. I could barter with a neighbour to get milk and cream. I’ll have to drop by and see what they need and whether I can supply it. They may need extra hands.

My neighbours and I get along. We watch each other’s backs and help each other when we can. Barry Petersen is a life-long farmer and he’s saved my ass more than once with advice and help. I traded labor to get Jessy, my cow, from him. She’s about seven right now, and I hope we can milk her for a couple of years more. Maybe I’ll keep the next heifer to raise as the next milk cow.

It’s getting harder and harder to find fuel. There’s a lot of land around here. I’m thinking about getting some horses to use as transport. That means I’ll have to grow more grain and hay than I do currently. That shouldn’t be an issue though.

My other problem is my guest. I need to talk to him. Figure out if he wants to stay, and if so, what that will mean. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, and he doesn’t seem to mind working. We’ll see.