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Chapter 112


In one of my early entries from that first year after the world fell apart, I wrote about Little House on the Prairie. I loved those books. Now I’m living them.

It was a good idea Riley had to keep these journals. By writing this all down, maybe I’ll become the next Laura Ingalls Wilder. Gretchen Millworth Elliott Littrell, post-apocalyptic pioneer. Our stories are not so different. In a lot of ways, they’re surprisingly similar. She was part of a large family, and so am I. Her family built a home and a life for themselves on the prairie, like we have here on the base. While they worried about Indians, we feared the undead. As a young woman, she taught in a one-room schoolhouse, similar to the work I’m doing here.

In the beginning, I’m sure some of us thought writing in our journals was a waste of time. It was a way to pass the time and keep ourselves from going too crazy, but besides that, what was the point? As far as we knew, there would be no one around to read our words once we were gone. We were all that was left of humanity.

We know now that isn’t true. We didn’t just write this for ourselves, but for our future. It’s important that we share our story with our children so that they can pass it on as a part of their history, too. Someday, when a larger society has been reestablished, we’ll want people to read our story and remember our struggle. We’ll want them to learn from the mistakes made in the past so they don’t repeat them in the future. This is our prayer, that tomorrow will help us leave the past behind. It’s my job to teach our children everything they need to know in order to keep humanity alive, long after we’re gone.



Wednesday, April 13, 2022
Ten years after Infernal Friday

By eight o’clock that morning, all the children had gathered at the small school on the base, where Gretchen taught them five days a week. “Good morning, boys and girls,” she greeted them, although there was only one boy in her tiny class. Little Joshua Carter, Nick and Riley’s son, grinned up at her from his desk, smack dab in the middle of the four girls. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he was going to be a ladies man someday, the spitting image of his father.

“Good morning, Gretchen,” the kids chorused back. She did not insist that they call her Mrs. Littrell. It was too formal for their little group, which felt more like a family than any of her previous classes had. Gretchen enjoyed being back in her element, doing something that had always felt natural to her, but it was different here, more like home-schooling than full-time teaching. She had to differentiate each day’s lessons to fit the different abilities of her five students, who ranged in age from four to eight.

Evette, of course, was the oldest. At almost nine years old, she was already an avid reader. She loved to explore the base’s library and was often found with her nose in a book and her mind a million miles away. She reminded Gretchen of Gabby in that way. She had even started keeping her own diary, after seeing all the adults writing in their journals for as long as she could remember. If I’m like Laura, thought Gretchen, looking fondly at her first-born, then she’s my Rose.

Just eleven months Eve’s junior, Josh would be eight in July. He had inherited his dad’s sense of humor and his mom’s spitfire personality, so it came as no surprise that he was something of a class clown. Josh was a sweet kid, though, eager to learn, even though he had a hard time sitting still.

Next came Kayleigh, Gretchen and Brian’s other daughter. Her full name was Kayleigh Josephine, but they usually just called her Kayleigh Jo or K.J. for short. She was six years old and spirited, to say the least. While Eve took mostly after her mother, Kayleigh was a tomboy, Daddy’s girl through and through. She preferred playing outside to sitting in school and would much rather toss a ball around with Brian than look at a picture book with Gretchen. The only thing she seemed to have in common with her two namesakes was the fact that she was smart. By the time she was four, she not only knew all her letters, but could spell words like “pig” and “horse” – more thanks to playing basketball with Brian than anything Gretchen had done to help her.

Leslie Anne was Nick and Riley’s second child, named for his sister and her mother. She was almost three years younger – but only slightly calmer – than her brother. Although she’d just turned five, Leslie was already developing the same love of stories as her mother and seemed to be as creative as her father. She loved to play pretend and tell wild tales about her "adventures” to everyone.

Finally, there was four-year-old Asha, the baby of the base (but not for long). Everyone agreed she was absolutely beautiful, a perfect blend of both of her parents, with AJ’s big brown eyes and Selena’s cocoa-colored skin. In spite of her parents’ rough exteriors, Asha was sweet as could be. Of course, having her had softened Selena and AJ a lot. They were better parents than many Gretchen had known before the apocalypse. They didn’t put up with any bullshit.

“Today is Wednesday, April thirteenth,” said Gretchen, pointing to the date she’d written on the board. “It’s a special day. Who can remind us why?”

“Gabby’s birthday!” blurted Leslie, her big blue eyes shining with excitement.

Gretchen smiled. “Almost. Gabby’s birthday is tomorrow. I thought we could make some cards for her later. But what else is special about today?”

“It’s the anniversary,” Eve spoke up. She didn’t raise her hand either; with only five students, Gretchen didn’t bother with such formalities.

“The anniversary of what?”

Eve’s expression was solemn. “Of when the world died,” she said.

The way she worded it gave Gretchen goosebumps, but of course, she was right. They had been talking about it at home all week, trying to help the children understand why it was a big deal for the grown-ups. Ten years. It had been ten years since the world, as they’d known it, had come to an end. Their children would never get to experience that world. Except for Eve, who was born in England, they had lived their entire lives on the former MacDill Air Force Base. They didn’t know anything different. It was up to the adults to tell them what life used to be like, to preserve what they could of their old culture.

As a teacher, Gretchen had taken on most of the responsibility for the children’s education. They spent most of their mornings in school working on reading and writing, along with basic math. Gretchen knew that language and literacy were essential to pass on and could not afford to be lost. Writing was the best way to record their history for future generations to read. She tried to tuck as much history as she could into her reading lessons, and she’d had the older kids start keeping their own journals as soon as they were able to write, so that they, too, could contribute to the archives.

Science lessons were practical ones, usually spent outdoors. They learned about animals by taking care of the cows and chickens and, of course, the pets Nick was never without. They studied plants the same way, by watching flowers grow in the garden and helping Brian farm the fields from which most of their food came. There were simple machines all around them that made their lives easier. They experimented with energy using the solar panels Kevin had installed to power the base. Selena drew on her pharmaceutical knowledge to show them some basic chemistry, while AJ taught them about color by having them help him make dyes and play with paints. Even Howie’s expertise as a hotel tycoon came in handy, as he oversaw the engineering of elaborate buildings with wooden blocks.

And, of course, there was music. Nick made sure the kids knew every song he considered a classic, while Brian gave guitar lessons to anyone who wanted to learn. Without internet or television to entertain them, they would often get together and sing. So much could be learned through song. Gretchen was still waiting for Nick to go with them on a field trip to the L-I-B-R-A-R-Y, where he could sing the song about its many functions, but whenever she suggested it, he would blush and say he was busy. Maybe someday, she thought, suppressing a smile.

But that day, there were more important topics to discuss. “That’s right,” she told her daughter. “Ten years ago, our world changed overnight.”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the five innocent little faces looking up at her. She’d had a hard time figuring out what to say that would be appropriate for a four-year-old and even an eight-year-old to hear. How could she explain what had happened without scaring them?

“We lived in a country called the United States of America. There was a war going on with other countries that were against ours. One country, called North Korea, really didn’t like us. Their leader, a man named Kim Jong-Il, sent some planes over to our country, carrying a kind of poison that was meant to make people sick. Ten years ago, on Infernal Friday, the planes sprayed the poison into the air, and people breathed it in without even knowing it. They got very sick and started dying. By the end of the next day, which we know as Reaper’s Sabbath, almost everyone had died. It was very sad.”

She paused, remembering how she’d sat alone in her house, waiting for word from Shawn, having no idea that she would never see her husband again.

“And then what happened?” asked Josh, egging her on. Of course, he already knew what came next. The older ones had heard the story many times before. To them, it was just that: a story. Even Evette was much too young to have any real memories of the undead. In her mind, they might have been make believe, like the monsters under her bed.

But Gretchen remembered what they had really been like. She remembered the way they shambled toward her, slowly, but ceaselessly. She remembered the blood-curdling sound of their moans. And she remembered the stench of decay, which would never quite leave her nose.

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath before continuing. “Then the dead people started waking up. Only they weren’t people anymore. They were monsters.”

“Zombies,” Josh supplied matter-of-factly, looking around at the girls. Kayleigh giggled, but Eve, Leslie, and even little Asha remained stoic, staring up at Gretchen in rapt silence as they waited for her to go on.

“Those of us who were left had no choice but to run. Our homes weren’t safe anymore. I left my house in the middle of the night, got in my car, and drove.”

“And that’s when you met Daddy,” Eve supplied, her eyes shining. She always loved that part of the story.

Gretchen smiled and nodded. “That’s right. I met your dad on the road and rescued him from the zombies, and we rode the rest of the way together down here to MacDill, where his cousin was stationed.”

“Kevin,” said Kayleigh, and again, Gretchen nodded.

“Uh-huh. Everyone ended up here because it was the safest place to be. Kevin kept sending messages over the radio, encouraging any other survivors to come to the base, but Brian and I were the last ones to arrive. After that, it was just the ten of us. Brian… Kevin… Nick… Riley…” Josh and Leslie turned to look at each other, as Gretchen ticked their names off one by one. “AJ…” Asha’s face lit up with a grin. “Howie… Gabby… her mother, Jo… Kayleigh…” Gretchen smiled sadly at her younger daughter, whose eyes lit up in recognition. “…and me. For a long time, we thought we were the only ones left in the world. We even sent a search party – Kevin, Nick, and Riley – to look for more survivors, but they didn’t find anyone else.”

She swallowed hard, remembering the many weeks they’d spent waiting for their friends to return. What a miracle it was that all three of them had made it back, despite the obstacles that stood in their way.

“We were alone for almost a year,” she went on, “until the other group showed up. They came from across the ocean, from another country called England. We went to live with them for awhile because the base wasn’t safe, and they had a castle. But it was cold there and not nearly as nice. We missed our home. So when the zombies started to fall apart, we flew back to Florida. Selena came with us, but the others stayed in England.”

“Will we ever see them again?” asked Eve.

“I hope so,” Gretchen replied, “but I don’t know. We’ve been away for a long time. You were just a baby when we left.” She smiled at her daughter. “Who knows what’s happened to them since.” It was something they had all wondered about. There had been talk of trying to return to England someday. Gabby was especially eager to go, but Gretchen would just as well stay on the base. In the last ten years, they’d made a life for themselves there. Why risk it? Especially now.

Her hand dropped instinctively to her stomach, as she was suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu. She fiddled a little with the fabric of her shirt, then forced her hand away.

“So,” she said, brushing her hair behind one ear, “tonight, when the whole group gets together, that’s what we’ll be remembering: the day our story started, and all the days we’ve survived since then. Does anyone have a question?”

She spent the next half hour answering their questions as best she could, without getting into all the gory details. Afterwards, the older kids made birthday cards and wrote in their journals while she worked with the younger ones on forming their letters. The morning passed quickly, and when it was time for lunch, Gretchen walked the children home, dropping them off at their doorsteps until she was down to just her two daughters.

Brian was already back from working in the fields when they walked in. “There’s my three lovely ladies,” he said, kissing them each in turn. Sometimes Gretchen wondered if he had said the same thing to his first wife and family. It was odd how his post-apocalyptic life paralleled his former one. Once again, he was a father to two daughters. Gretchen knew that Eve and Kayleigh could never take the place of Brooke and Bonnie, just as she would never replace Leighanne in his heart, but even so, she was glad she had been able to provide him with two more children… and, if all went as planned, hopefully a third. He would never say so, but she knew Brian wanted a boy.

“Girls, go wash up for lunch,” she told their daughters, and when they had gone, she turned to Brian and wrapped her arms around him. “I was thinking,” she whispered, “that maybe we should tell everyone tonight, while we’re all together anyway.”

Brian smiled down at her. “You don’t think we’d be stealing Riley and Nick’s thunder?”

Gretchen shrugged. She hadn’t considered that. “I don’t know. Maybe we should wait.”

“I’m just kidding. I don’t think they’d mind, but I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever you decide is fine with me. If it slips out, great, and if not… well, then it’ll stay our little secret for awhile longer.” He reached down and rested his hand over her stomach, which was just starting to show. She would have to see Riley about letting out her pants soon – at which point their little secret would be a secret no more. Riley would tell Nick, and once Nick knew, the whole base would know. But until then, maybe it was better to keep it between her and Brian.

She loved the way he would look at her and wink when he thought no one was watching, the knowing smiles they shared behind the backs of their family and friends, like they were the sole guardians of a priceless treasure. And, in a way, they were.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years we’ve been together?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair. “We, as in all of us, or you and me?”

“Both, I guess.” They would celebrate their own anniversary two days later: ten years since the day they’d met, nine since they’d married. Eight more years than she had spent married to Shawn. “God, I’m so glad we found each other that night,” she said.

Brian chuckled. “I’m just glad you saw me and stopped your car! A few more minutes, and I’da been a goner.”

She smiled. “It was the best decision I ever made. You’ve been such a blessing to me, Bri.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the grace of my life, Gretch,” he whispered back, as he bent and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes, picturing him playing the guitar and singing those words to her on the night he’d proposed. She much preferred that memory to the one of him sitting silently in the passenger seat of her car, all covered in blood.

They had come such a long way since then, in every sense of the word. She hoped they would never have to go back.