After the Fall: Jason's Tale by David E. Nees

miles
between him and the Miller farm. The travois was working better, though still
with some difficulty when the path got too rocky. The extra weapons and
ammunition slowed him, but he hiked on, committed to not abandoning those
precious assets. He settled into a routine of hiking until the afternoon and
then stopping with enough time to eat and make a shelter to sleep.
    He now felt more in tune with the forest, making good miles
when he was on a trail. And when he didn’t have a good trail, he accepted his
situation and moved more slowly. He stopped resisting the forest, but adjusted
to whatever it presented. This acclimation enabled Jason to see more detail in
his surroundings; the hints of game trails where one could set snares, the
larger openings that aided one’s passage through underbrush, the best way
around rock fields. He was now expending his energy in a more efficient manner,
not trying to force himself through every obstacle. He had a map of the region
and tried to keep his position marked. The further he went, the less accurate
this became, but the map still gave him an overall indication of his
progression into the remote parts of the forest.
    He took more time to make a shelter when he stopped. He
would cut a straight pole, lay one end in a tree notch four or five feet up and
the other on the ground. Next he would create a tent shape with branches from
the ridge pole to the ground. He would pile leaves and debris from the forest
floor on the sides and then weave in more branches to hold the filler. All
sides would be enclosed except for a small opening at one end. He insulated the
floor with leaves. On top of everything he would lay his tarp and the shelter
would then be ready for sleeping. It was quite cozy and, when properly
constructed, surprisingly rain proof. If he stopped where a campfire could not
easily be seen, he would start one in the evening and enjoy a warm meal and the
cheer a fire brings to the dark solitude. On many warmer nights, he would
string his cover tarp from a ridge pole, lay down a ground cloth, and put out
his sleeping bag. Every few days he stayed encamped and hunted for food,
setting snares and gathering what edible plants he could find. His plant guide
book got a lot of use; he didn’t want to poison himself.
    When he reached open fields, natural or left over from
earlier farming, he stopped to harvest the wood sorrel, kudzu, dandelion and
chicory plants he could find. The wood sorrel could be eaten raw. The entire
kudzu plant was edible and he would make hot drinks later that evening from the
dandelion or chicory he found. Occasionally he would come across clusters of
ramps or wild onions and collect as many as he could carry. Marshy areas provided
a treasure store of plants to harvest; cattails, the katniss plant and
sometimes water lilies.
    Since it was still early in the season, Jason could feast on
the fiddle head shoots of ferns which he found in the shadier parts of the
forest. The berries would have to wait until high summer, but Jason noted their
abundance, along with wild grapes, at the edges of fields. For one who knew
where to look, the forests and fields provided a rich store of food to balance
a diet of game meat.
    Jason generally awoke with the birds, just before first
light. He would lie still and listen, sniffing the air, testing to see what the
day might offer. Then, stretching and limbering his stiff muscles, he slowly
got going. If he had made a fire the night before it was a simple task to
restart it, putting tinder on the banked embers. Sometimes he treated himself
to a warm wash before breaking camp and loading his gear for the day’s trek.
Jason felt more at home now, but the solitude bore down on him relentlessly.
Often he noticed that he was talking to himself.
     His numbed state of mind gradually eased through the
routine of hiking and camping. Nights, though, often found him in agony. He
began to blame himself for Sam and Judy’s deaths.
    If I had