All but One?

By Jim Duvall

John Blank is a simple, middle-class American who is suddenly thrust into a personal world of survival. He is caught totally off guard by the apocalyptic blast and struggles to comprehend and cope with all the unexpected by-products of this catastrophe.

Why did this happen?
Where did this come from?
How bad is it?
Am I the only survivor?

These questions and more lead John on his journey of survival and discovery in his native homeland, North America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449770808

Jim Duvall

Our father, Jim Duvall, passed away on February 1, 1974, but not before completing this manuscript, All but One? Jim Duvall, a Southern rural letter carrier, town gunsmith, former banker, and army lieutenant, also authored numerous articles that appeared in Louisiana Woods and Waters in the early 1970s. He embarked upon his love of nature in his manuscripts with a desire to share his physical, emotional, and spiritual experiences. This novel is a symbol of his walk with God and true human spirit of compassion and enthusiasm. This book is a memorial tribute to Mr. Duvall from his children, Karen and Kevin, and dedicated to the loving memory of his wife, their mother, Ruth Johnson Duvall, and a legacy to the grandchildren and great-grandchildren he never met. —Kevin Duvall Karen Duvall-Darling

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Copyright © 2012 Jim Duvall

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-7080-8 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-7078-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-7079-2 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012918677

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/30/2012

CONTENTS

ALL BUT ONE?

THE INTRUDERS

THE DEFENDERS

FRUSTRATION

MORALE RISES

CHAOS

BACK AT THE CAVE

A NEW OUTLOOK

ALL BUT ONE?

J ohn Blank stood in the mouth of a cave in the northwest corner of a valley on the northern slope of a mountain in one of the mid-central states of the United States. He was a short, powerfully built man in his late forties or early fifties. His iron-gray hair was close-cropped and appeared strangely in contrast to his bushy black eyebrows, above gray wide-set, piercing eyes, framed inside a broad face that was clean-shaven at most times but now sported a short graying beard. When his generous mouth opened, it displayed two rows of almost perfect teeth. He had a broad chin split by a deep cleft which seemed to rest upon his chest since his neck was so short. This face was one that children always trusted. Perhaps his almost ever-present smile demanded that trust.

IT HAD HAPPENED!

As John stood in the mouth of the cave, caressed by the southern breeze blowing into his face, his tired gaze was clouded with apprehension as he reflected on the events of the past forty-eight hours or so. He had crossed the east end of the valley and had driven the sixteen miles westward along the crest of the mountain. He had continued northward and downward as the road crossed the west end of the valley and then rose abruptly. His hometown was off in the distance to the north, across miles of flat farmland, broken only by the section lines and the two heavily traveled roads, one at each end of the valley where he now stood.

As his small, foreign, rear-engine automobile had reached the rise in the road heading north out of the valley back toward the city, only twenty-four miles away, a giant hand of pure energy had stopped it dead and reversed its direction, throwing it, with him inside, completely off the macadam road to the right and backward into the valley, almost two hundred feet from the top of the rise. Luckily, the car had landed upright in a tangle of briars and close-packed small pine trees. These cushioned the jolting fall.

John was not hurt, except for minor scratches and a small cut or two, but his chest was rather badly bruised where he had banged into the steering wheel. As the car had landed, jarring him to his toenails, the main force of the shock wave passed over. Lucky for him, too—it would have killed. The roar was deafening. A giant hand seemed to press against his bruised chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. All kinds of debris passed overhead, continuing on across the valley and moving upward toward the crest of the mountain three or four miles away, there to the south.

In God’s name, John shuddered. People lived along the skyline road. If that thundering wave of energy did not diminish, what damage it would do! He saw that damage a split second later. In less than a heartbeat of time after his car was hit, the shock wave roared past that portion of the exposed mountain crest that was within his dazed vision. Old man Baroli’s house, barn, outbuildings, stock, farm equipment, and truck—everything—completely removed, as if it had never existed. The ground was blackened, bare, and smoldering. Nothing remained.

John knew that everyone and everything that had been directly exposed to that awesome force was completely obliterated. It was hard for his human mind to comprehend such swift, utter, and complete destruction. He instinctively fought for life-giving air as he was inside the vacuum caused by the passing brisance. His vision became more blurred. His tongue thickened. His senses reeled. Almost as quickly as it left, the rush of displaced air returned, bringing life-giving oxygen. John’s vision cleared. His senses sharpened and his head cleared.

John knew he had to find shelter to survive. He could not force the left door of his car open. Reaching across, he discovered that the right door was jammed, too. Reaching down, favoring his bruised and throbbing chest, his searching hand found the small hatchet that was habitually carried underneath the right front seat. Using the back of it, he succeeded in knocking out the left rear glass of the car, twisting around to where there would be room for him to exit. Painfully twisting and climbing, he finally half-jumped and half-fell out of the car onto the ground. He could stand with no pain, so he realized that he had not been injured, except for the bruises and scratches that would soon heal. As he climbed slowly toward the road westward, it came—the full realization of what had happened. The Bomb had been dropped! It had fallen on his hometown, and probably others as well!

He continued his slow and painful ascent back to the road and after reaching it, walked back toward the crest northward, from whence his car had been thrown, to where the entire valley and his town would be visible. When he reached this vantage point, he stared in open-mouthed amazement. Complete destruction was all that he saw. A mushroom black, silver, and red cloud was rising over what had been his hometown. It was gone. Nothing moved. Several small fires burned silently. That was all.

From his vantage point of over twenty miles away, his vision encompassed a large portion of this major valley between two mountain ranges. The air was extremely clear—so clear that John saw that all the small settlements in sight were completely blown off the face of the earth. Nothing remained. All traffic visible on the two main roads extending from the town, his hometown, was completely at a standstill. Some cars and trucks were stacked or merely stopped while others were thrown about and broken open like a can of fruit run over by a steam roller.

John wasn’t close enough to these vehicles to see or recognize people. He was sure that they were all dead, even burned beyond recognition. No one could have survived such destruction, out in the open, as they had been caught. Now that the blast and accompanying shockwave had passed, the silence was overpowering. No auto horns, no distant whistles, not even any bird of forest sounds from the valley behind him were audible. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Why he didn’t know. Had all been killed, all but one? Time would tell.

A wind sprang up, blowing into his face, now that the effects of the bomb had passed. Realizing the eminent danger of nuclear fallout from the mushroom cloud hanging over his town, John picked his way back to his wrecked auto. He couldn’t hurry. Once he reached the wreck, he picked up his down-lined jacket that had been too warm to wear inside the car. Halting dead still, he thought, what am I going to do? I’ve been spared this death. Must I die a slow, painful, cramping death of radiation? The possibility struck him like a slap in the face—it could happen.

The cave that had been the secret place of his boyhood was located less than half a mile from where he now stood. Hurrying to get there ahead of the silent death the wind was bringing, he stopped only to get his breath at times. When he reached the cave entrance, he dropped his jacket, hastily gathered up a large armload of dry branches to be used for firewood, and went inside. Remembering the jacket, he returned for that.

John remained inside the cave for two days and nights, hoping the brisk north wind that was bringing winter’s icy blast would also dissipate the threatening cloud of death that must be moving south, from his town. His town? Nothing remained but rubble.

The cave that furnished shelter was located in a valley that was shaped like a wide slash halfway up the side of the north slope of the mountain. This valley was about three miles wide at the widest point and nearly sixteen miles long. It had been set aside as a game reserve in years past (after John’s youth) and now very easily could be the difference between life and death.

As a boy, he had discovered this cave where he now stood and had used it many times before the entire valley had become protected. By accident, long before it had become a game sanctuary, John stumbled onto the cave entrance while chasing a wounded fox squirrel. Since the cave entrance was located halfway up the side of the slope, and almost completely hidden, he doubted if many knew of its existence. The entrance was located behind a large rock, which almost completely concealed it, except at a very close proximity. The opening was about four and one-half feet high and less than three feet wide. A short distance inside, it opened into a large room, approximately twenty feet square, with a very high ceiling, almost completely covered with hanging rock formations. It was unusual that these did not seep moisture in the way of most caves.

Countless fires emitting soot had blackened the roof of this room, some burned by John, and others by those unknown inhabitants who had preceded him. Time did not exist in this naturally created shelter. Even the entrance offered protection. Directly behind the large rock that concealed the entrance was a passageway that appeared to be a blind alley, ending in an abrupt turn to the right, and then, five long steps further, opened into the first large room.

In the back side of this first room was a small, narrow opening approximately five feet high, very narrow and several feet long, black as an abyss at night. This was the entrance to the second room of this cave. The second room was long and narrow, much smaller than the first. The opening from the first came into this one at the side, and it was only a few short steps across. The ceiling was very high in the center of the room, but extended almost to the sandy floor along the sides. The entire room formed a huge A.

Located at the end of this room, along one high sidewall, was a narrow, very high, passageway into the last room of the three that John had explored. He knew there were other parts to this cave but he had never gone any further than this one because there had never been any desire. Besides, it could have been dangerous. This last room was approximately the size of the one directly behind the twisting entrance, but the ceiling was much lower and extended in a slant to the floor along two sides. This room contained an almost unbelievable water supply. It also had its own built-in garbage disposal.

Along the back wall, about waist high, gushed an artesian spring, its constant stream of pure cold water as large as a man’s arm. At the other end of this back wall was an opening in the floor about six or seven feet across, and bottomless, as far as John had ever been able to determine. In years past, he had dropped stones and other heavy objects into this hole and had never been able to hear them hit anything below. As far as he knew, it had no bottom.

While yet a youth, he had constructed a small ditch along the wall of this room to channel the constant flow from the spring into this pit. The flow of water along the side of the wall kept the temperature cool and constant the year around. This cave would have to serve as his home now.

Driven by his urgent need for food, he decided to take what he assumed was a desperate chance that morning of the third day. His small fire had kept him warm and the spring had supplied his need for water but the gnawing pangs in his stomach demanded food. Never before in his entire life had he felt hunger so strongly.

There was some dehydrated food with his camping gear inside the trunk of his wrecked car. With the wind shifted and blowing any possible radioactivity back northward, he began his descent across the loose rock and gravel, back toward the car. He tired very easily and had to sit down and rest in a matter of a few minutes. His legs felt like they were made out of pieces of rubber hose. Spots danced before his eyes and his head roared like a waterfall. My goodness, he thought. I shouldn’t be this weak from just forty-some-odd hours without food. He had not reckoned with the emotional drain, in addition to his lack of food. Subconsciously, he was more, much more, than just hungry. He thought he was completely alone, removed from everything and everyone that he had ever known. Shock had hit, and perhaps self-pity?

When he reached his wrecked car, he discovered the trunk lid opened by the crash. Its contents were partially exposed to the elements. Nevertheless, he quickly grabbed his meager camping gear, stowed inside two small, waterproof bags there, and turned to hurry back to the protection of the cave. Was it necessary to hurry? No, he decided. If he had been exposed to radiation, it had already happened. He sat down right there and opened one of the bags that contained a freeze-dried cold meal of ham, peas, potatoes, and bread. He fumbled it with the eager and faltering fingers of demanding hunger. As he stuffed the almost tasteless food into his mouth, that act brought a touch of calmness back to him. He must take it easy. That food must give strength, not nausea. He ate slower. Limiting himself to a small quantity, he closed the bag, shouldered it and the other one, and slowly picked his way back toward the cave. It could be worked out.

After he entered the cave, he replenished his fire and went back outside to gather more wood. Nuclear fallout didn’t worry him anymore. As he gathered squaw wood, he concluded that his first and uppermost need was to survive, where he was, at least for a while. He would determine later on if anyone else, anywhere near, had lived through the awesome explosions that had obliterated his town along with all man-made improvements that were visible from the crest above the valley where the explosion and shock wave had caught him.

He had seen all traces of human existence were gone from the main mountain crest, to the south, where the road had been. That road had been visible, or at least most of it, from the north-south road that dipped through the valley on the north slope of the main mountain where John was now marooned. Maybe he was lucky. He wondered if this bombing attack had been nationwide. Sorry to guess that he was sure it had been timed to hit all over the country, near the same time. Right now he was concerned with the area to the south of this mountain range, in the next state.

It was over sixty miles from his present location to the nearest town south, and no direct road available. Realizing that he could see conditions to the south if he walked the three miles on the road across the valley and the half-mile from the cave to the road, he knew that he must know. Time was all he had and it had to be spent. He went back inside and deposited another load of wood. He had quite a stack now, enough for his immediate needs.

He has made up his mind. He picked up his jacket, walked back outside, and headed down the slope toward the road. He was going to take that walk to the south and see what there was to see. His mind would be settled, one way or another. Jacket buttoned against the fingering cool