Grant Us Mercy: Installment Six: Post-Apocalyptic Survival Fiction Read online

  GRANT

  US

  MERCY

  A Post-Apocalyptic Serial Novel:

  I n s t a l l m e n t S I X

  D. C. L I T T L E

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 DC Little, Carson River Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  DEDICATION

  To my Mountain MacGyver who inspires me every day and my special boy who sees things others only wish they could, and those unexpected miracles.

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ~1~

  ~2~

  ~3~

  ~4~

  ~5~

  ~6~

  ~7~

  ~8~

  ~9~

  ~10~

  ~11~

  Free Book!

  Next in Grant Us Mercy

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Wow! What a journey this has been! I have to say my first thank you to the wonderful lady, talented author, fierce mama, and supportive friend, Heather Yates, for encouraging me to go forth with my dream of writing Post-Apocalyptic even though it is so different from the genre I found my success in.

  Of course, I need to thank my writers’ group, Women Writers of the Well. Without all of your support and encouragement, I still would be writing stories for my eyes only. It’s been fun sharing this series with you every step along the way!

  A heart-felt thank you to my fantastic editors, Dianne McCleery and Joan Simpson. Without your guidance and keen eye, my books wouldn’t be nearly as clean and consistent! And I can’t forget my ARC readers whose encouragement feeds me during those dry spells.

  Thanks to my mom for her unwavering support and encouragement. And a special thanks for my Sis, whose namesake makes a special star appearance.

  And of course, where would I be without the two main men in my life! Thank you, My Love, for helping me with all the nuances of natural disasters and survival thinking. Your support in this project keeps me going strong. Thank you, My Little Love and inspiration, for understanding how important Mommy’s writing time is and being excited whenever I receive one of my books in the mail.

  ~1~

  D ATE: December 14 06:36

  Blake should be relieved.

  He sat atop the rocky outcropping overlooking the new camp as the end of his security shift came to a close. The foundation and map of structures were laid out a semicircle around the central fire, just as it had been in Arland’s camp before. The conical bark dwellings had been voted the best shelter. The first people that lived in this area had survived for hundreds of years in bark dwellings. Why shouldn’t they be good enough for them now?

  As people awoke, they milled about greeting each other. Their happy voices traveled to him on the gentle breeze. Some didn’t seem affected by their recent escape into the wilderness but just went about their daily activities with gratitude and optimism. Including his wife.

  They were content and excited that their journey had come to an end and for the possibility of creating a haven for their families. Plans to do more than survive, but thrive, were underway as they talked about government, creating schools, and more of what normal societies would have. The people were genuinely happy and optimistic. Why wasn’t he?

  Something nagged at him. That unsettling sensation had started eating away at him the day they arrived when he proudly showed Kris and Tucker their new location. The location he had thought for sure would provide everything they needed.

  There was protection not only from intruders but also from the elements as well. The little valley nestled in the midst of the ridges, kept the brunt of storms from unleashing upon them. The plant life had the majority of all they needed with only small treks to the medicinal plants that didn’t grow here in the sheltered valley. An active creek ran through, and then there was the spring, their lifeblood of survival. Yes, it had everything they needed.

  Yet, Blake saw the look in Tucker’s eyes. This wasn’t the land that he had seen in his visions. Blake did his best to push the thought out of his mind. The boy was just a child, and maybe his perception of the land in his vision wasn’t accurate, or he hadn’t seen as much as he thought, or they were just fanciful ideas.

  He did his best to falsify any notion that this wasn’t the perfect spot for the people, for his family.

  His best wasn’t enough. The uneasiness settled on him like an invisible cloak of responsibility. It weighed him down and left him unable to fully enjoy the present.

  A twig broke behind him. Blake froze and cocked his head as he listened. Though the leaves and debris littered the forest floor like a moist carpet, the heavy steps were unmistakable.

  An exasperated sigh drifted toward him, and the man stood directly behind him.

  “You knew I was here...again.”

  “What kind of military leader would I be if I wasn’t aware?” Blake asked as he rose to greet his friend. “You’ve done well, David. I would have heard a lesser man yards away. You got close...too close.”

  When he slapped David’s back, he let his arm drape around his friend’s shoulders for a brief moment.

  “Quite the place we are building, eh?” David said in an awe-filled voice.

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” Blake scanned the village again.

  The community spread across most of the valley’s width. Movement in the southeast corner caught his attention. Turning his head in that direction, he saw his son lift his hand while seemingly staring right at him. He lifted his hand as well, feeling the weight of responsibility pulling on his arm.

  “You going to tell me what’s been bothering you?” David asked, keeping his gaze on Tucker who had turned back to stacking rocks on the outline of their shelter.

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “I still don’t understand why you have the need to build your shelter so far from the encampment. Are we really that bad?”

  Blake scrutinized his friend. Fine lines had etched around his eyes and mouth. He had always been a mite serious, but he had become contemplative and ever-observant since the exodus.

  “No. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else.” He shrugged and dropped his gaze to all the people working, laughing, and jostling each other. “I’m a solitary man. It’s always been my way.”

  “We’re keeping the structures more spaced this time. See?” David said, pointing to where his wife and children piled bark by the circle they dug out for their structure. “I’m even trying to come up with a way to section off the interior. For a little privacy.” He winked at Blake.

  “Yes, I hear you are trying for another baby.”

  “Why not? We have a midwife and now a medic. The fate of humankind might depend on us contributing more.” He laughed and slapped Blake on the back.

  Blake let the smile curl his lips, though the effect didn’t reach his eyes or his heart. The idea of having more children, seeing his wife so close to death again, terrified him. The naïveté of the man, of most of the people in the camp, worried him. With the changes in their world, people would die more and from the simplest of things.

  Besides, how could they think they were the only community trying to survive off the land as they were? True, th
e population would certainly be decreased. What had they said? Close to a ninety percent fatality rate.

  The fate of mankind didn’t sit solely on their shoulders, but their contribution certainly could make a difference. Maybe he stressed too much, as Kris told him. As long as they could provide for the increasing mouths to feed, why not encourage them to breed? The larger their village, the stronger they would be if ever attacked.

  ~*~

  K ris watched Tucker wave at his dad. Once again, her husband sat on the rock outcropping that rose along the ridge. He had been withdrawn ever since they arrived at this place. She blew out a breath, watching the warmth of the air crystallize and fade away.

  Cold seeped into her bones. Even with the sun shining down on them now, she couldn’t shake the chill from the night. They needed to finish their shelter.

  The spring gave them fresh drinking water, but at times like right now, Kris missed having to boil water for purification in the morning. The fire at least added warmth, even if it did use extra fuel. Wrapping the blanket tighter around her daughter held against her in the wrap, she bent over to continue digging out the circumference of their shelter.

  Blake should be down here helping. His strength would make this job twice if not three times as fast. Yet, he sat up there moping, looking as if the fate of the world lay on his shoulders alone.

  She stood again to stretch her back, her daughter cooing and reaching up to touch her cheek. Mercy. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  “Dada,” Mercy started and then continued in her babbling, telling Kris the secrets of the world. If only she could understand.

  Yet, a peace filled her, and she looked once more upon her husband at his outpost. She felt his gaze caress her. He loved her and their family. Judging him for not being there every moment wasn’t fair. He worked harder and longer than anyone. Besides, it had been his morning on duty.

  A yearning ached within her. Why wouldn’t he share his fear with her? Whatever bothered him seemed to be bothering their son as well. Tucker could be more easily distracted by the moment, especially when the other children came by to steal him away for a game of tag or rocks and sticks. Yet, times like now, when he worked silently and thought no one paid him any attention, he had the same crease between his eyebrows as his dad and the same heaviness bending his shoulders.

  Kris pushed up off her knees and brushed at the dirt. Enough was enough.

  “Tucker, time for a break. Come get something to eat and drink.”

  Working this much even before breakfast was new to them. That was one of the hardships of eating communally. You had to wait for everyone else.

  The boy obeyed, taking the jerky she offered him and drinking long from his water bottle. He worked hard for a seven-year-old, with a determination that she hadn’t seen in any other second-grader. Even now, she could hear several parents exasperatedly scolding their children who would rather throw dirt at each other than dig any more of it up.

  “We won’t get it up by tonight again, will we?” he asked, his gaze scanning their large shelter. “Maybe we should make it smaller.”

  Kris laughed. Just last night she had suggested the same thing to Blake. “You know your father has his reasons.”

  “No one else’s structure is so large, though. Some of them will be sleeping warm tonight.” He drew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket and wrapped his arms around himself.

  “Maybe we could set up the tarp tonight to keep the heat in.”

  Tucker nodded.

  “Is that’s what’s bothering you?” she asked her son, wanting to take the weight off his shoulders.

  “Being cold?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said, watching him intently.

  He shrugged. “Everyone thinks this place is perfect.”

  “And you don’t?” She had heard his hesitation when Blake first showed them the overlook but passed it off as weariness or a disappointment in his own internal fantasy, but his face now told a more serious story.

  “It has everything we need,” he said, mimicking his dad’s words whenever asked the same question.

  “Tuck.” She took his chin in her hand and turned his face until he finally met her eyes. “You have always told me everything. Don’t change that now.”

  His gaze deepened as his eyes looked as if they lit on fire.

  “It’s not right.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The creek should be coming out of the cliffs with waterfalls and pools. The valley should be more of a triangle than a rectangle. The ridges are taller, the trees larger, and the spring should be trickling out of the wall of rock, not bubbling up from the ground.”

  “Oh, I see.” She took a bite of jerky, contemplating his words. The color of his eyes had faded as he described the land as if he looked upon a memory. It was the same look that overcame him when he had visions.

  “You don’t, though. No one does. Why do I have to know these things? I don’t want to. I don’t want to know.” He stood up, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw set as his father’s did when angry.

  Kris’s heart ached. She opened her arms, but he didn’t enter them. Instead, he stormed out of the dugout beginnings of their dwelling. With an angry swing of his arm, he yanked up the not-quite empty bucket and stormed off toward the spring.

  When had he stopped letting her comfort him?

  It took all of her self-control to not follow him and bring him into her arms. If he needed space, she needed to respect that and let him have the independence that he fought for so hard.

  Yet, it hurt. It hurt worse than if her own heart had been broken. Worse than if she were the one with the burden of knowing things that may happen in the future...a future impossible to change.

  She scanned the village as it took form. Some structures now had their poles set and centered at the top.

  The main fire’s coals faintly glowed. She wished she could feel the warmth like the women who busily prepared breakfast at the fire. Today wasn’t her day to cook, though, and there was still so much to do before they could raise their own poles and enclose their shelter. How they needed that shelter. A solid night’s sleep untroubled by waking up shaking from cold was needed for all of them.

  Maybe her boys would cheer up once their home had been completed. A warm dwelling full of laughter could do a spirit some good. They needed to have fun and time to see that, though this place may not be the place they will be forever, for now it was perfect.

  ~2~

  B lake stopped by to see Arland on his way back to camp. The man who had turned into a good friend stood as he approached and rolled his shoulders. Digging out the frozen ground wasn’t easy work. He and Arland weren’t getting any younger, either. The thought of them getting older worried him. Who would take on their responsibilities once they no longer could?

  “Almost done here. How about you?” Arland reached a hand out to him, which Blake took in a strong, quick grasp.

  “Much more to do. I just finished my guard shift and will be helping Kris finish the groundwork this morning hopefully.”

  “We’re ready to start building. After breakfast, we will be falling some pines for the structure poles.” Arland looked up from the circular dugout as if he built the dwelling with his mind. If only it were that easy.

  “Depending on where we are at, I might join you.” Blake let his gaze travel toward his wife. Tucker had made it back from the spring, but the hunch in his shoulders told everything Blake needed to know. “It would be good to get the boy out into the forest.”

  “I will come for you before I leave.”

  Blake nodded, his focus now on his family. He kept his gaze on them as he weaved through the partially finished structures and across the empty meadow to their secluded location.

  He knew the others didn’t understand his need to have space, to not be amidst the hustle and bustle of camp life. It had nothing to do with how he felt or didn’t feel about the res
t of the community and everything to do with needing to have his family to himself. That’s why he had lived where he had. City living had never been for him, and after his tours and the constant surveillance of his job, he needed to be able to live without the need to respond to others’ demands all the time.

  Kris understood, at least he liked to think so, and Tucker seemed to need space just as much as he did. This morning as he watched them work side by side but with no conversation, he knew the choice had been a good one.

  “Morning,” he said as he approached within normal talking distance.

  They both looked up and stood as if the interruption was a much-needed break from working.

  “Morning, Dad.” Tuck looked at the hole they worked on.

  It wasn’t finished, far from it actually, but the two had been working hard. It would go faster once he started loosening the dirt for them. They made a good team. If one of them was missing, though, things never worked as smoothly.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Slow,” Kris said as she peeked in the wrap to check on their daughter.

  “Dada, dada,” Mercy gurgled.

  The warmth that filled him at the sound of his daughter’s voice eased the part of him that seemed strung too tightly. He reached for her, and his wife’s sigh of relief as their daughter’s weight lifted off her told him she needed a break.

  “You two have been working hard. After breakfast, Arland is heading out into the forest to find suitable pines for the structure poles. A walk amongst the trees sounds like a nice change, don’t you think?” he asked them.

  “Would you let me try the ax, Dad?” Tucker asked, a small spark lighting his eyes that had seemed too dull as of late.

  “Sure, but let’s bring your hatchet just in case.”

  “And my bow. Fresh meat sounds good, doesn’t it?” Tucker actually smiled a little.

  Blake thought of all the freeze-dried rations they had been eating since they arrived. Rations he had spent years stocking and storing...for his family. It still tugged on him every time he saw them tear into another package. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had signed his family to a life of starvation for sharing as freely as he had.