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

left one day later they might still be alive.
    He couldn’t shake the thought. The raiding gang would have
found themselves in a crossfire between Sam in the house and Jason in the barn.
They might have won the battle. The thought became ever more firm in Jason’s
mind, increasing his guilt about leaving. He had seen his dad leave and he had
left Hillsboro and now Sam and Judy. Had he become that kind of a man…like his
dad? The thought ate away at him.
    Tears came as the human loss pressed down on him—Maggie, and
Sam and Judy. More and more he focused on trying to imagine what he was
searching for—shelter, permanent shelter—trying to visualize it. But something
else was needed. After Sam and Judy, Jason understood how hard it was going to
be to live alone until society got sorted out, if ever. He felt confident that
he could master food and shelter, but the companionship and satisfaction he had
experienced working with the Millers—being helpful, being part of a team—made
him realize how precious that relationship was—like family in so many ways.
    Can’t dwell on that. It’ll only make it harder. I’ve made
my bed. Now I must lie in it. He knew he wouldn’t have lasted in town. He
had seen the militia taking everyone’s freedom away in the name of order and
safety. It was inevitable that he would have clashed with them. There was order
in town, but with strict control. Those in charge wanted to know where you
lived, what you did to survive, where you found food. The questions had grown
increasingly aggressive and came from the assumption that, nine months after
the EMP attack, you were either under the town’s jurisdiction and control or
you were an outlaw, scavenging and looting. The concept of a self-sufficient
person was not part of the thinking.
    But this being alone part is going to be damned hard. He
couldn’t shake feelings of dread about the loneliness that haunted him,
feelings that were outside of his woodsman skills, untouched by his ability to
survive in the woods.
     
    One day Jason came across a small deer herd. They had not
been hunted, this far into the mountains, so they were not skittish. Killing a
deer could give him a good meat supply. It would free him for a few weeks of
setting snares. The extra time could be spent locating long term shelter. He’d
have to smoke the meat to use it over time which worried him. Smoking meant
fire, smoke and smell, all of which would advertise his location, to predators
as well as humans. But it was a chance he felt he had to take.
     In preparation he built a smoker. Away from his camp,
he made a tall cone of straight poles surrounding a fire pit. He tied cross
poles on which to hang the meat and covered the structure with branches to keep
in the smoke. Then he was ready to hunt. Two days passed and the deer didn’t
show.
    Did they read his thoughts? What the hell?
    But on the third day, the deer showed up and Jason took one.
He field dressed it well away from his camp and smoking area, then, back at the
smoker he quickly butchered the carcass, cutting the meat into strips and
setting them on the poles. The smoke was filled with a rich aroma, inviting and
stimulating. It was quite a signal to all the animals in the forest. Jason
stayed on high alert, hoping he would not have to defend his catch from bears
or worse.
    He kept the meat smoking for twelve hours, feeding the fire
with wet wood and leaves. Then he cut the meat into smaller pieces and
carefully wrapped them in ramp leaves he had collected. It was not ideal, but
it was the best he could do. While the smoking was going on, Jason feasted on
venison steaks. He ate heavily for a couple of days, then wrapped the leaf
packages in a tarp, stuffed them into his pack and headed off again.
    He was now going to explore the valleys that spread out from
the side of the ridge he was on. It was time to find a permanent place to stay.
It was the beginning of summer and he had much to do to get ready for