Alas Eden

I read a book once. Wait, that’s not what I mean, because I read many books. What I meant was, I read this book once... that’s still incorrect. I read this one book… twice, I found it fascinating. I was thirteen, the book was called ‘Alas Babylon.’ Nothing to do with the fabled city. It was about the end of the world. Again, not fully correct, it was regarding the collapse of society and civilization after a nuclear holocaust.

Radiation wasn’t the only fallout.

It told a story of how fast humanity can crumble when society disappears. No rules, no guidelines, just survival. Showing how we can go primal in such a short time. An eon's worth of growth gone in a heartbeat or in the time it takes for a massive amount of energy in the form of heat, light, radiation, and air pressure, to completely obliterate our world as we know it.

I understand this only to well because I am now living in this new world.

In truth we were always on the brink of destruction, doomed to fail and fragment into pieces of what we once were. I was hoping it would not have happened in my lifetime, and there in lies the problem.

Amidst our celebrating the half century mark, the first missile to begin the end was launched. Hell rained down while we were drinking ourselves silly and patting ourselves on the back for being the smartest creatures on earth.

I honestly don’t know who was first, it could have been our side, at this point it doesn’t matter. One person gave the order and now we are all paying the price for their vanity and cowardness. Mostly it was our meekness within society, wishing to avoid confrontation that caused our downfall. 'Let someone else deal with it, mentality' was the true reality of our doom.

In our little part of what's left of the country, a new structure began to arise from the ashes of our folly. We learned about ourselves in such a short time. For instance, who would ever have guessed an average man, a carpenter no less, would become a leader in the new order. Not me, I was just as surprised as anyone when I found myself in this role.

During the chaos I gathered my family and others who were of like mind. People trying to hang onto a civilized society, not realizing it was a dream that would morph into a nightmare, from which we may never wake.

After the bombs fell, we travelled to a location in between Banff and Lake Louise, an area of Alberta called Johnston Canyon. It was higher in the mountain, had fresh running water, plenty of game and narrow mountain trails and walkways that made getting to us nigh impossible without being spotted. Plus, in winter the snow blocks the passages. We live in a large valley tucked in the mountains, called the inkpots. Named after the seven various colored mineral pools of waters scattered throughout the meadow, which shelters us from the worst of the weather. The fertile soil is perfect for gardens. From here we would be able to fend off raiders, thieves and any who sought to disassemble our community. We share work duty, food and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

We created our own Garden of Eden.

The first year is always the toughest, but we not only survived we thrived. Our community became known, and people arrived daily, hoping to join us. While others cast out the elderly, I saw them as a source of knowledge on how to survive, before we became reliant on technology. If you were a person with survival instinct and humble dignity, willing to work, you were welcomed.

We did not let everyone stay. Many were sent out if they did not fit into our group. The lazy, the ones who you knew would cause trouble and those who refused to fit in, all cast out. There were times when we were forced to take measures to ensure they never returned, thankfully those were rare.

Like the children in the book, our youth also grew up quicker than the previous generations, that’s a fact. My children jumped leaps and bounds above me.

We discovered talents in others that normally would have remained dormant. Such as my daughter Jesse, now sixteen, is the top sniper in our community. If that doesn't make a father proud I don't know what does.

My son, who was the same age I was when I read that book all those years ago, had killed his first person by that time. Cody was only thirteen when forced to take another persons life. But it was that or watch two men have their way with his mother and sister.

When I returned home from a scavenging mission for supplies, the women were burning the bodies. That was my que to find a new place to live. Now fourteen, he can do it as easily as playing a video game of the past, although he has not grown accustomed to it.

I remember that day, Cody was weeping thinking he was going to hell. I nearly said, we're already there, instead I told him he did the right thing, they were bad men. What he said next still haunts me to this day.

He asked . 'Are we the good guys?'

I hugged him and replied. ‘We are.’ We must be, otherwise what’s it all for.

I wish this is where our story ended, happy, content with rebuilding our lives and the world. Alas, we are but a small pebble swirling in the sandstorm of life. One tiny grain forced to follow the will of the wind. While we found contentment and peace, others fought. While we worked hard for our future, other sought to steal and destroy.

We thought life could be good again, never the same, but good. Until one day we received word of a large horde coming our way. Word travels fast, even without internet, from traders and people passing through. Information is the new currency, along with prescription drugs, ammo, and coffee.

Rumors of the Horde was they were a travelling band of thieves, moving throughout the land. Well led and well provisioned they moved like locust, now heading our way.

My brother and his daughter, Alisha volunteered to infiltrate and spy upon them, trying to estimate when they would arrive. I was against this, as she is a year younger than my son.

They never returned.

I was now to required to become a war leader as well. Gathering all our hunters and trackers we designed the best defense possible. As I mentioned the passage to us is narrow, limiting an aggressors full power to attack us.

We planted spikes, snares, and assortment of traps along the route, gimmicky attempts at defending our encampment. In truth we prayed they wouldn’t come. Fear hung heavy like an evening fog, seeping into our souls, and enshrouding us in self doubt.

One day scouts reported the Hordes presence at the base of the mountain path. Jesse and I found a spot upon the cliff, where I could watch their movement, and she could pick them off one at a time.

Winter was soon approaching, the damp cold bit through to our toes. The mist was heavier than normal, visibility low. But you can hear a group that size echoing throughout the canyon. Jesse was to take the first shot, which would signal when to begin. Hopefully taking the leader out.

I lay upon the wet grass, binoculars pressed tight against the sockets of my eyes. Just when I thought they may have detoured or stopped I saw them, walking the trail no more than two at a time. From above, it was like a snake winding up the path. There were fewer than I thought.

Like a dream I heard Jesse whisper. ‘Dad, I see him.' Her voice was shaky.

I saw too, only we weren’t seeing the same thing. Quickly scanning up and down the line, my mouth went dry, my heart pounded so hard against the ground I swear the world heard it beating.

I cried out to hold, at the same time Jesse took the shot. After that it was chaos. Pulling the gun from Jesses grip I ran down the path yelling, pleading. ‘Cease fire.’

It was a slaughter of the horde, people were running, trying to flee. Full of adrenaline and bloodlust we kept firing, people were being butchered as fast as they pleaded for mercy.

When it was over, only six of them survived. We massacred forty-three souls, men, women, and children. We became Godless that day. The only deity with us were the false ones who demanded blood.

When it was over, my people cheered. I wept.

It wasn’t long after, I found myself wandering around our village, at one time I thought we were building a society. I went down to the stream, like Pontius Pilate, I washed the blood from my hands. Numb from the madness, trying to justify our actions. When I saw a reflection in the water, distorted figures standing over me.

Cody and Jesse stood there, staring at me with eyes as dead as the night.

‘Dad, we found Uncle John and Alisha’s bodies.’ Jesse sobbed.

They weren’t a horde of barbarians. What I saw were beaten and desperate people looking for shelter before the winter set in. They were needing help. My brother and niece were bringing them to safety, or so they thought.

In a far-off voice, I heard Cody ask. ‘Dad, are we still the good guys?’

I don’t know.

The book I once read was of a different time. If I recall correctly, I think they managed to maintain their dignity until the government rebuilt and society could once more thrive. I fear those days are gone, as is our humanity.

Alas, Eden no more.

Thank you,

Jason

Alas, Babylon - Novel by Pat Frank