I wanted all to have a chance to read Frenchy's stories. They are so mind boggling, yet long. This may take you a while to read, but it is so worth it! So here goes...Until the rain comes By Frenchy
Someone recently asked me to post another story in this forum.
Here goes:UNTIL THE RAIN COMES
The sun had been down for a couple of hours and the temperature dropped to a bearable ninety-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Three families gathered together in a crude circle while a woman holding a tattered Bible began reading from it: "And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him."[b]
"Why did the devil fight with Michael, Mommy?" A sandy haired little girl with a soiled face asked.
"Maybe Michael didn't want to share his water." That remark from the only one of the three men in the room that was standing brought a scowling look from the Bible reader.
"Is that true, Mommy?" The little girl asked.
"Daddy is just kidding, honey." She replied in a kind voice and all the while not taking her eyes off the man standing.
"Isn't he?" Her brows drew close together.
"I have to go now." The tall man said. "You go on with your reading."
"Why do you have to leave, daddy?" It was the little boy this time.
"Daddy has to go to work so we'll have food and water." The mother quickly responded.
"Be careful." She advised her husband.
It was the seventh year of the drought. She didn't even remember what the scientists had called the strange weather phenomena that had dried up the wellsprings of the heavens. In the beginning it had merely been inconvenient. Now it seemed more like Armageddon. But how could Armageddon last so long?
The scientists were saying that the rains might come back one day but no one seemed to know for sure. The preachers were saying that it was divine retribution from God, a warning to man to turn around from his materialism and fleshly pursuits and once again pay homage to God. In the face of dire adversity some people seem to find comfort in the belief that it's God's work.
The women and children seemed to enjoy the Bible readings while the men merely endured it. Women and children seemed to be drawn to God more easily than men. Why was that?
Her eyes remained riveted to the door and her ears were deaf to the pleadings of the children for her to continue the reading. Seven years and no rain. The entire world was under marshal law, the food and water were running out. Daily rations were steadily being reduced. The elderly were dying like flies. Once a person reached the age of sixty, his rations were cut in half. It was difficult enough to subsist on full rations, no one could live on half rations. A young person could scrap and find insects and rodents maybe but an old person could not. They simply died. Rarely was there a baby born these days. There seemed to have developed a general, unspoken agreement among the world's women that the last thing that was needed now was another empty belly to fill.
People didn't live in single households anymore. They huddled together, three four or more families --for protection. They were called groups and a series of groups in one geographical location constituted a community. There were no more towns and cities as such.
She finally tore her eyes from the door and looked at the little group before her. She smiled sweetly. She drew a breath to resume the reading and caught the eyes of one of the men.
"It's his choice, Mr. Munson." She answered his unasked question. "John hunts alone, you know that. The rest of us serve the group by staying here and performing our various duties. Munson didn't reply.
Mrs Salter was doing her best to keep the spirits of the group up as high as she could. She read from the Bible everyday and since it seemed to bring her and the children comfort, the adults patiently tolerated it.He hunts alone. The government rations were not enough to live on. People had to hunt for their food. Not in the old, traditional way of stalking animals but now it was foraging for food deposits overlooked by the army.
Sometimes it meant going into a nearby city, as frightfully dangerous as that was, and looking for food in long abandoned, dilapidated warehouses, buildings considered too dangerous to enter. Sometimes one could find a burned out restaurant whose pantry somehow escaped total destruction and there canned goods could be had. That was very rare these days, all the obvious places had already been razed long ago.
Now the best chance of finding scraps of food was to enter abandoned residences, apartment buildings, nursing homes, anywhere people had lived and might have hidden away a cache of food from back in the days where there was enough to hide away. It was all illegal, of course.
Although those in power knew full well it was the only way to survive, there was a law against scavenging, a law with death as its penalty. Everyone did it. They had to or else they would certainly die. Some people were better at it than others and they survived longer.The trick was finding a section of the city wiped out by one of the vicious gangs that roamed the streets looting, raping, and murdering. Once they started in an area, the survivors quickly moved on to a safer place and in their haste were not always able to carry off their food supplies which was exactly what the gangs counted on. They stayed in that area until they figured they had found all the food caches and then they moved on into fresh territory. It wasn't necessary for them to find all the caches. They simply moved into fatter territories, leaving behind a few crumbs for an ambitious forager to find and carry off to his starving family.
The difficulty lay in getting to those stores after the gangs left and before the military moved in. The dangers were manifold. Loners stayed behind and somehow managed to avoid the gangs and they guarded their stores with weapons. Each closed door represented that possibility. Sometimes gang members would have a falling out and one or two would stay behind to glean the area once the others had left and these were always armed.
Alongside those dangers was the fact that the army periodically swept certain areas of the cities with night vision glasses, looking for signs that the gangs had left, allowing them to move in take what was left. John had seen all of these things, recalled his narrow escapes in his never ending struggle to feed his family and those in his trust. His experienced eyes swept the countryside for movement of any sort. He crouched down behind some cover and waited. Things were getting really bad now.
People were becoming ever more desperate, ever more resourceful in staying alive. Memories of the city crept back up into his mind. Unknown to his group he'd hunted with a man he met a year or so ago. He ran up on the man quite unexpectedly and had almost killed him before he realized that the man was himself only scrounging food for his family. The man cried as he stared into barrel of John's automatic pistol.
"Please, mister, if you kill me my babies will die."
Something in the man's eyes told John he wasn't lying and from that time on they hunted together.
Harvey never disclosed the location of his family and neither did John. These days trust was something that only went so far. The last time he'd hunted with him was six months ago. Try as he might, John could not push the memory of that night out of his mind. The night started off badly enough, a portent of things to come. There was a pale moon out which was always made things more difficult. Concealment was of the essence. If you didn't stay invisible you died. It was as simple as that.
They were moving in the pale, moon shadows, inching their way to the building they scouted the night before. The stale, dry, night wind stirred the debris in the empty streets while strange and unexplainable noises --the death rattle of the city-- came out of the shadows. Twice they spotted renegades from long gone gangs that were prowling the streets. It took them three hours to make it to the front door of the apartment building. With stealth and a fair amount of justifiable trepidation they slipped into the building and began slinking down its dark, inscrutable corridors, feeling their way as they went.
Instinct and practice served the two men as they made their way to the stairs. There was no point in searching the downstairs. Those places had been raided long ago. If there was anything left here it would be in the most dangerous place in the building --the top floors. The building was tall and they were a long time getting to the top. They exited the stair well and moonlight flooded in from the large, dirty plate glass windows at the end of the hall. This was a good sign. For some indiscernible reason the first thing the gangs did when they raided a building was break all the windows. It seemed to be some sort of ritual with them. These windows were intact which indicated that they had never made it up this far. Hope began to rise up inside the two men.
Their eyes adjusted to the faint light and they began making out the doors to the apartments. Most of them were flung open, indication of the haste in which the inhabitants left. The two men began their careful, methodical search. Room by room, apartment by apartment. Nothing. The familiar feeling of disappointment began to settle in like the gloom of night.
When they reached the last apartment they found the door slightly ajar. There was a faint smell of wood smoke in the air. John pushed it open cautiously with one foot while holding his pistol firmly with both hands. The door creaked open and they stepped inside.
Suddenly there was a bright flash and a deafening blast. Instinctively John stepped back and tripped over something which sent him sprawling on the dirty floor. His gun slid out of his hand and across the floor, lost in the darkness. His heart pounded like thunder in his ringing ears. Suddenly there was a light. A woman was standing over him holding a lantern and a shotgun. Her face was expressionless. She regarded him as impassively as one might note a discarded piece of clothing. She turned around and placed the lantern on a dusty table and John began making out details in the dim light as the spots in his eyes began to diminish.
Harvey was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. There was a great big hole in his chest from which dark blood still oozed. John began frantically looking for his pistol and his heart sank as he watched the woman walk over calmly to it, like she knew all along where it was, and pick it up. She made sure the pistol was loaded and cocked before she set the shotgun down in a corner and then walked over to the corpse on the floor.
She pursed her lips and nodded in approval at what she saw. She turned to John, gun in hand. "There's something about this building that attracts you scavengers." She said in a strong yet calm voice.
John regarded her more closely. She was young, twenty at the most. Like everyone else she was dirty and unkempt but unlike everyone else, she looked well-fed. Her body was far from being stocky but she was solid, well rounded as her scant clothing revealed. She wore only a loin cloth. John watched her bend over and remove the plastic water jug from his fallen companion's belt. She took a long drink from the bottle and then set it down on the floor.
John had pulled himself up to a sitting position on the floor. She walked over to him, bent over to carefully look him over. She pulled his water jug off as well and then she nodded again."We weren't going to harm you."
John said feebly."No?"
She said, slowly straightening up. "Why not?""I've never harmed anyone. I only take what's been left behind."
He said, hoping he sounded sincere."That'll change." She said. "There's nothing left you know. All the food's gone.""You live in this building alone?"
"Yes." She said without hesitation.
"Why? I mean why don't you live with a group?" She merely smiled a humorless smile. Her eyes were cold and knowing; far beyond what her years called for. She stooped over, grabbed the corpse by the feet and began dragging him into another room.
John sprang to his feet and made a dash for the door. He slipped in the gooey blood and fell into the hall . He scrambled to his feet and didn't stop running until he was out of the city.
Sitting there alone tonight, John could still not understand why she had let him go. But then again, who would he tell and who would care? Six months had passed, an eternity in a world of uncertainty, of day to day living. There was not a night that the memory did not return. Harvey's family, deprived of the food that he scrounged for them, would have starved to death by now. And yet something inside of him wanted to return to that place, to talk to the brash, young woman who's spirit had not yet been defeated.He had never gone back to the city after that. She was right, there was nothing left.
Suddenly there was a snap of a twig. He whirled around, gun in hand to see a soldier standing not three feet from him with a rifle pointed to his face.
The small group sat and patiently listened to the reading of the scriptures. Munson knew that Mrs Salter was right. John was very good at what he did and common sense dictated that each person do what he was best able to do for the survival of the group. Munson just wished he could do more that just stay here and help guard the group. He knew that the other man in the group, Stanley, felt the same way. No man likes to see another man provide for his own family.
"...and I think that is enough for tonight." Mrs Salter said, closing the tattered book. "Off to bed, children."
Then turning to Munson, "Mr. Munson, who has the first watch tonight?"
"That would be me, ma'am." He replied.
"Please be especially watchful for that pack of wild dogs that's been raiding the neighborhood." She reminded him.
"Yes, ma'am, I surely will." He replied. He watched her disappear into her bedroom. She imagined herself the leader of the group and the others saw no harm in allowing her that delusion. John was the real leader. He provided the water and food that kept them alive. He alone put his life on the line every night to scrounge for the necessities of life.
It wasn't the dogs that worried Munson although they were a real enough threat. He was more concerned about the reports they had been hearing from other groups in the community about a lone marauder that was attacking their groups, killing the entire households and then making off with the food stores. He worried about John who was out there alone while he prayed that their group would not be the fiend's next victim.
Stanley relieved him at midnight.Just at daybreak when the faint morning light plays tricks with men's imaginations, Stanley saw something moving nearby. He heart rate picked up and his hand instinctively went to his coat pocket where the loaded pistol rested. He didn't dare pull it out for fear that was a soldier. Civilians were not permitted weapons and to have one would mean certain death.
Another movement and Stanley dropped into a crouch and carefully peered around the corner of the house. "Stand still." A voice bellowed from behind him and Stanley's heart almost burst in his chest. "Turn around!" The voice commanded.Stanley turned to face an army officer. "What are you doing sneaking around here?" The soldier demanded.
"I...I live here. I heard a noise and came out to see..." Then Stanley quickly added: "I thought it might be the marauder."
"No need to concern yourself with him anymore, one of my men shot him not six hours ago. Now get back inside your house."
"Yessir." Stanley replied.
Mrs Salter was already up when Stanley went inside. She and the other women kept watch during the day while the men slept. "Good morning, Mrs Salter."
"Good morning, Mr Stanley." She replied. "Have you seen John?"
"No ma'am. He hasn't come in yet but I saw some soldiers milling about. Perhaps he's waiting for them to move on before coming in."
"Yes," She said, "That's probably it."
"Oh, by the way, Mrs Salter, an officer told me that they have caught and killed the marauder. I suppose we'll all sleep better now. Well, I'm off to bed."
Stanley didn't see her face turn white while she steadied herself against the door jamb to keep from falling. That night there was a sadness to her voice as she read from the book in front of her. She finished early and dismissed the women and children. She placed her Bible on the table and asked Munson to remain.
"Mrs. Salter, I'm sure that John will be returning soon. It's happened before that he was not able to come in until the following night." He said, sensing her unvoiced concern about her husband.
"Thank you for your kind words, Mr Munson , but there is no need. John will not be coming back to us."
"Certainly, he will..." Munson cut her off. "No, he will not." She said flatly. "Mr. Munson, the time has come for us to speak of grave matters. For the past six months John has not strayed from our community. There is no more food to be had in the cities and even if there were, it's far too dangerous now to go there."
"But there's nothing in our community, we're all in the same fix." He said.
Her face took on an even more sober expression. That's not quite true, Mr. Munson. There is still food in our community, for the present, at least."
"I don't understand." He said, shaking his head. "Everyone here is like us."
"No, Mr Munson, not quite. For the past six months we've been eating food from this community. John was shot last night trying to get some more for us."
"John? Shot? How do you know?"
"Mr. Stanley told us this morning." She replied.
"No , ma'am that was the maraud..." His face went pale as his voice died off.
She forced a smile. "That was John."
"No." He said quite forcefully. "John was a decent man. He would not have killed those families, our neighbors, for their food and water. He would not do that!"
"You're right, he was a decent man but he had no choice, Mr. Munson. Can't you see that? There is no more food and water to be had. The only way to obtain it is to take it away from those who have it."
"What gives us the right to do that?" He protested, his voice rising.
"Mr. Munson, there is no more right or wrong. That seems to have left us along with the rain. It's a matter of survival and the choice seems to rest with those who are able to grasp the situation. We can allow chance to dictate who will survive or we can take an active hand in making that determination."He buried his face in his hands."Of course the others must not know anything about this, you understand.
As long as our neighbors hold to the values that once served our society then the advantage will continue to be ours. We can only count on this for yet a short while, however. In time the gullible will all perish and only those like ourselves will remain. When that happens, it will be very difficult for us to survive. Only the shrewdest and the most cunning and those willing to do what it takes to survive will make it. Perhaps they will be able to hold on until the rains come again.
I hope that we and our children are among those. These will be the seeds of the new human society that will rise from this dreadful dust. I came to you with this, Mr. Munson because I believe you to be the most capable of our group to do what must be done. The task of providing for the group now rests upon you. You must do what needs to be done, sir."
"But you're a God fearing woman, you speak of God's goodness and truth... how can you ask me to do such a terrible thing?"
"Mr. Munson." She looked him straight in the eye. "When God led his children, the Israelites, into their promised land he commanded them to kill off every man, woman, and child that occupied that land. Pregnant women were ripped open, babies were taken out of their mothers' arms and killed, even the domestic animals were slaughtered. It was necessary in order to cleanse the land and make room for his children. She suddenly got a strange look of amusment in her eyes.
"In the days of Noah, God wiped out every living soul on the earth save those inside the ark. He made a promise to Noah that he would never again destroy man by means of water. I find a strange irony in that the end of this world will be the lack of water, don't you?"
"Perhaps God is cleansing the earth again for his children. Perhaps the world that will rise out of this chaos will be our promised land. Until God tells me differently, I intend to survive." [b]Her voice never rose nor faltered.
"Good heavens, Mrs Salter, what have we become?"
"Oh, it will get worse, Mr. Munson." She said quite matter-of-factly as she picked up her Bible from the table.
"Worse? How could it be worse than killing our neighbors for their food.?" Asked a horrified Munson.
"How could it be worse, Mr Munson? Soon, sir, they will become our food." She said. "Surely you must have realized this by now. Sleep well, Mr Munson."
[b]The End.[b]
WOW! I love that story
wendy