Hindsight

By Chris E. Hagler

“Hindsight” begins three hundred years after a biochemical disaster that decimates the global population. Ruby Williams, along with her friends, Matthew and Rachel, struggle to exist in the harsh world that remains. The three of them are the only survivors of a raid on their small village by human traffickers. Traffickers take people against their will and force them to help rebuild for a new nation taking over part of what was once the United States. After escaping the slavers, the friends stumble upon an ancient experimental technology that allows them to witness the past and eventually make contact with the inventor of the device. They then hatch a plan to thwart the catastrophe that occurred three decades earlier. As the inventor travels in the past, Ruby and her friends try to evade packs of giant wild dogs and capture by an ambitious empire in order to set the world back as it was.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781611606058

Book preview

HINDSIGHT

by

CHRIS E. HAGLER

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2013 by Chris E. Hagler

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-605-8

Cover Artist: Harris Channing

Editor: Laura Josephson

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

Dedicated to my loving wife Rhonda and my sons, Brandon and Isaiah.

Chapter 1

A history lesson…

The world didn’t used to be so quiet. Towns and cities across this great, wide land formerly known as the United States of America once bustled with noise. The sounds of passing automobiles once filled the now silent roadways. The feet of busy shoppers used to collide with the cold floors of the now empty malls and markets, accompanied by the sounds of various conversations. The laughter and playful screams of children once littered the air around the parks and schools that now lie still. It’s not that there isn’t anyone left to make these sounds—it’s that the few who remain are afraid to. It wasn’t always this way.

Once there was a vibrant nation, a nation that shouldered the responsibility of being the most powerful in the world. The United States of America was the world leader in economic progress, as well as the best example of human rights. People lived as freely as one could and still have a government to protect them. Patriotic pride swelled in every American chest each Fourth of July as every year the nation celebrated its independence. Former enemies had become allies over a period of time, as the scars of war were smoothed over by successful diplomacy. Most of the known world had a very favorable opinion of America; however, there were others who watched the prosperous nation with an evil glare. On September 11, 2001, those eyes watched their plans hatch against the United States with an attack on their citizens. This unexpected assault ushered in a new type of warfare that the Americans had to quickly adjust to. As always, the U.S. responded with a terrible wrath by launching the War on Terror.

Victories in Iraq, Afghanistan and other parts of the Middle East put the American psyche at ease. With the death of Osama Bin Laden, the man who masterminded the September 11th attack, the people of the United States once again felt safe to live their lives free of the oppression of those who would terrorize them. They would again be shocked by the viciousness and sadistic nature of those who wished them harm. The day was September 21, 2017. A young man from Iran whose real name is lost to history traveled to America on a student visa. He arranged travel to Washington D.C. on one of the many bus tours that used to visit the sprawling capital. During the bus’s approach to the White House, the young man detonated a so-called dirty bomb. The low-yield nuclear device had also contained several vials of the Plac-V virus, a deadly man-made bio-weapon developed in the former laboratories of the nation of Iraq, which the news media told the public never existed. The virus was packaged with the bomb in case the nuclear device failed, acting as a secondary weapon. What happened next even the plotters of the attack never dreamed of as they packaged the bomb in a garage outside of Baltimore.

The blast from the explosion didn’t destroy the virus. The Plac-V virus was designed to be efficient and sturdy. Instead of being vaporized by the blast, it was changed by the bomb’s radiation. The new, mutated virus proved more deadly than before. Its new durability also increased the chance of airborne infection. Where Washington had initially counted itself lucky that the detonation had only damaged a couple of city blocks and killed very few, it and the rest of the nation would soon discover the real threat to its existence. Catapulted by the explosion, the virus infected Washington D.C. and the surrounding counties within the first month. News stories aired rampantly about the epidemic, but most dismissed it as sensationalism. Within four more months, the entire eastern seaboard of the United States was infected. All efforts to control the disease or quarantine the victims failed miserably due to the speed of the virus’ spread. The wildly popular President Douglas found himself plummeting in approval as he was blamed for allowing this to happen within the nation’s borders. He aired a television broadcast once weekly to reassure the nation that the virus would be stopped until he finally succumbed to it three months later.

Frantic attempts to evacuate the eastern United States did nothing but accelerate the spread of the virus. Soon Europe, Australia, and Asia faced the same silent killer that was now decimating North America. South America fell prey to the Plac-V virus as thousands of immigrants once flocking to America then turned to flee from it. The proud Russian nation enacted a policy of executing any unauthorized visitors into their nation. The policy worked for a few short weeks until a few of their own returning from the last known United Nations meeting brought the Plac-V virus into Mother Russia. The last continent to fall victim was the wild land of Africa. Every coastal nation on the continent with the exception of the Egypt and Libya closed its borders and seaports in an effort to protect itself. Egypt left its ports open in order to preserve its economy as Libya followed in a sign of defiance against what the government considered to be western lies and propaganda. In the wake of weakening economies across the continent, several Somalian warlords took the opportunity to move their operations to other nations. Soon a sweeping military campaign the likes of which not seen since the Huns engulfed the dark continent. The zeal with which the forces moved proved to be their undoing, as several of the forces made their way toward Egypt and Libya. Coming in contact with the virus, they unknowingly began its spread throughout Africa. The outbreak became all too obvious as nation after nation became infected through the Somali forces.

With nothing to stop it, the Plac-V virus encircled the globe. Nearly two decades after the detonation in Washington D.C. over ninety-nine percent of the world’s human population had been eradicated. Certain types of animals, mainly those once domestic, proved to build a resistance to the virus. Cattle were unchanged, but dogs mutated drastically. Within six generations after infection, most domestic canines grew to at least five times their former size. These enormous creatures proved to be un-trainable, and most of the world’s population of dogs became feral beasts. Most large animals became prey for the world’s new top predator. The plains of western America that used to be home for herds of buffalo now were the hunting ground of packs of giant dogs.

Most humans went into hiding. They left behind the magnificent cities of their former glory, and instead what people remain populate small, hidden villages that do their best to survive. Mankind slowly descended into a second dark age. With very little people to populate the cities of old, most of them fell into ruin. As the number of people educated in the use of technology and capable of performing proper maintenance dwindled, the facilities and conveniences of these cities began to fail. Power grids malfunctioned and public waterworks went silent. The small bands of people found that they spent much more time trying to fend for themselves against the rapidly multiplying dog population than being able to do anything to restart civilization. The small pockets of the population became smaller and more isolated in the interest of their own survival. They now scavenge off of what they can find of the old world and do their best to defend themselves against the dangers of this unpredictable world. It is a hard life for most people, except for one group.

In the city that was once Houston, one hundred fifty years after the virus spread, several villages bound themselves together in what they labeled New Texas. The new group established a set of laws and regulations much different than the old government their predecessors had lived under. The new laws called for a very strict caste system, in which slavery was once again legal in land once known as the United States. The New Texans made it their mission to gather whatever weaponry and technology still existed. Whatever people they come across during their expansion are forced to become citizens of the new empire. These slaves are immediately put to work near the capital of Houston, in an attempt to rebuild the city and the surrounding area to its former state. Slaves are material objects, being disposed of after use. The human rights so proudly fought for and displayed in the old America are long dead.

As New Texas spread northward into what was formerly Oklahoma and east into old Louisiana, village after village of new citizens were captured and put to work. By 2317, the borders of the new empire had reached from Mississippi north to Illinois and as far west as New Mexico. The only outsiders tolerated by the empire are the slaver groups contracted out to find more laborers. They search the countryside for the small villages that house what remains of the population. The already sparse populace is now under threat of extinction due not only to the harsh living conditions and the threat of dog attacks but also the constant danger of the slavers.

Some tried to defend themselves but found themselves unable to fight against the slavers armed by the New Texas Empire. Most scavenged what weapons and supplies they could and went into seclusion, living in the most isolated areas they could reach. It is here that the last fleeting threads of America still exist.

Some of these people still cling to the belief that somewhere the American government still exists. For the first hundred years after the eradication of mankind, theories ran rampantly across the countryside from village to village about how the now underground U.S. government would reclaim the nation once their lines of communication were reestablished. As the populace became more and more secluded and came in less contact with one another, these ideas began to fade. Confidence in the old government still existing dwindled with each passing year along with hope for the existence of old America. What used to be the main topic of conversation became an afterthought, as talk about the United States left the dinner table and became a subject for bedtime stories for the children. With the passing generations, most people forgot about the former nation. Now there is very little discussion about old America unless an ancient book with details about the fallen country is uncovered during scavenging.

Slavers and dogs are the topics of most conversations, what few of them there are. In most villages, silence is the norm. The fear of the dogs’ enhanced hearing causes most villages to keep hushed out of self defense. In most places, even those who snore loudly at night are ostracized and turned away from the group in fear that the sound might draw a pack of the giant feral canines. Food is scarce; supplies are even harder to find. Sharing inside each group is necessary for survival. Sharing beyond that is considered suicidal. This is the world man has created. This is the world that now exists.

Chapter 2

Ruby Williams was thought of as a pleasant young woman in spite of the vicious world surrounding her. Her mother had been killed by a pack of dogs when she was young, forcing her father to raise her on his own. They both resided in a spread-out village in a log cabin they were told had existed for over five hundred years. The old plaques and signs surrounding the village call the area Cade’s Cove. It had apparently been an open-air museum centuries earlier in the state known as Tennessee. The cabin suited their needs. It kept the rain off of their heads and had a fireplace for cooking. The walls and doors were sturdy, and in spite of the frequent warnings from her father about dogs, Ruby always felt safe inside their log home. The village where she lived hadn’t had to deal with a dog attack since the one that took her mother. Fortunately for her, she was young enough not to remember the incident.

Ruby’s father, Silas, was perhaps the most respected member of Cade’s Cove. He not only helped the village in planning their modest crops but had also improved the defenses they had. With guns difficult to upkeep and bullets in an increasingly short supply, Silas had helped to design traps and barricades that most of the villagers were confident would help to deter any assaults upon their small group of just over eighty people. Ruby watched most days as silent patrols on foot made their way around the eleven-mile road that encircled their village, keeping a wary eye out for anyone or anything that may have made its way past their outer perimeter. As in most other villages, silence was a must. No one in the group wanted to draw any unwanted attention to the area. Firearms were kept clean and ready to use but were forbidden to be handled except for the cause of defending the cove. Hunting was done by trap or by the few skilled in the use of a bow. Deer were the favorite target, being somewhat unaffected over the years by the mutations of the Plac-V virus. Although many signs and literature still existed that pointed to a once healthy population of bear, no one in the cove had seen a bear in generations. It was told that the last bear spotted had undergone a similar transformation as to that of a dog, being much larger than written records had stated.

Ruby left her family’s cabin one autumn morning, doing her best to close the door quietly. She had been instructed since an early age to always perform every task with a minimal amount of noise. Speaking was done in hushed tones, eating was done without conversation, and even walking and running had to be performed properly. Ruby had learned to roll her feet with every step in order to lessen the impact she made with the ground and thereby keep her steps silent. Now a young woman of eighteen, all the lessons her father had given her blossomed into habits she would perhaps exhibit for the rest of her life.

It was a beautiful autumn day; the blue sky was very deep and rich in color above her. Her eyes followed it to the horizon as it faded to a much lesser hue. Ruby’s eyes settled on the mountaintops around her. The smoky haze that seemed to always cover these mountains was as reliable as the rising of the sun. Wildflowers littered the field in front of her, dotting across the green canvas with bright splashes of yellow and white. An occasional purple flower sprang up to break the pattern. She gazed over the scene for several seconds before making her way down the path from her cabin toward the Loop Road. The road was exceptionally smooth, having no need for maintenance with no vehicles passing over it for more than thirty decades now. Some of the villagers told stories of the amount of automobiles that used to circle the area. Ruby had seen a few automobiles before, but never one that actually functioned. When she’d turned sixteen years old, her father had allowed her to accompany some of the others as they made a scavenging trip into old Gatlinburg. She had seen several of the old vehicles as they rusted in the spot they were last parked. There were pictures scattered in the town of old cars and what some of them had looked like before time and oxidation overtook them. She had a hard time imagining people traveling hundreds of miles along the roads in one of these devices. The thirty-mile trip to old Gatlinburg took the scavenging party most of one day. The literature she had read from an old garage made it sound like a car could have done it in a matter of minutes.

The village would be sending out another scavenging party today, and Ruby hoped she would be selected to go. She enjoyed the break from the monotony of the cove. Along with her friends Matthew and Rachel, she would try her best to find some sort of book or newspaper she hadn’t already read. Even though she had already been on four of these excursions, seeing the old town always fascinated her. The first time she’d returned, Ruby had questioned her father as to why they didn’t just move into the old buildings in old Gatlinburg. It seemed to her that they would be more comfortable to live in and perhaps easier to defend. He’d explained to her that not only did the packs of dogs frequent the old towns out of habit while hunting, but he also explained to her about slavers and how they would search towns on old maps for citizens to take back and sell to New Texas.

As she made her way down the old road, Matthew quickly caught up to her. Matthew had the uncanny ability to walk or run more silently than anyone else in the village. As he tapped her on the shoulder, Ruby covered her mouth to suppress the yelp she let go. She playfully slapped him on the shoulder as he laughed at her.

You goin’ this time? he asked her in their usual hushed tone.

I hope so. I haven’t been away from here in a couple of months. I’m starting to know all the trees by name, she replied.

Naming trees? You’re losing it, he teasingly said as he looked ahead to spot Rachel waiting for them. She was standing at the path that led up to the old Primitive Baptist Church. That was the only church building now in use, as the Missionary Baptist and Methodist church buildings were being used to house two families. Rachel pretended to tap her foot as she waited. Out of habit her foot never touched the ground as it bobbed up and down over the pavement.

You two took long enough, Rachel said with her hands on her hips.

Blame Ruby; she stopped to talk to the trees.

Ruby again slapped Matthew on the shoulder, much harder than before. He opened his mouth in a whispered shout as he grasped at his injured arm.

I want to get there before they choose who goes, Rachel continued. I didn’t get to go last time, and I’d really like to get out of here for a couple of days.

Yeah, probably because you’re still in hot water over breaking that trash bin, Matthew declared.

"That was a big deal over nothing. Besides, those rusty old things are going to fall down eventually," Rachel replied defiantly.

Yeah, only because you were sitting on it, Ruby added with a quiet giggle.

Poor old things can’t take that much weight, Matthew said, piling on.

Ruby had to once again cover her mouth, this time to stifle her laugh. Rachel slapped Matthew’s other shoulder, and he grasped at it as well. Rachel hit a lot harder than Ruby, and it did sting this time. He wondered why he always walked between the two of them, enduring their assaults.

I don’t think they were as upset about you breaking it as the noise it made when it collapsed, Ruby said after taking a deep breath.

It’s not like anyone heard it anyway, Rachel protested.

I did, Matthew quipped before rushing ahead a few steps out of Rachel’s reach.

Shut up! Rachel hissed through her teeth.

Ruby continued to stifle laughter at her friends’ antics. It didn’t matter what mood she was in or what had happened; they always seemed to make her smile. Rachel was always playing the straight man to Matthew’s jokes. Ruby always felt like they were performing for her and as long as they kept the laughs coming, she would always be a captive audience.

The three of them made their way toward the old general store that