Survivors
The war, however brief, was the most devastating conflict in human history. Even so, after only one year from the launch of the first nuclear weapon, humanity was already clawing its way back from the brink of collapse with small pockets of civilization reemerging in numerous places across the planet.
The cataclysm began with a series of nuclear air blasts designed to create strong electromagnetic pulses - EMPs. Those EMPs had instantly fried nearly all computer circuits and electric grids. Anything that used computer chips - computers, cell phones, cars, trucks, airplanes, trains, even such things as farming equipment and household appliances - were rendered useless. Next came the nuclear warheads aimed at military installations, industrial centers, and key infrastructure targets. Not satisfied with that level of destruction, the warring powers (which ultimately included all the nuclear nations) aimed their missiles at population centers. In all, nearly two thousand nuclear warheads were detonated worldwide. The destructive power of the bombs and the subsequent radiation exposure killed over half of humanity within the first few weeks. The next five months brought famine that killed hundreds of millions more. Then came the waves of diseases - illnesses that had once been controlled by modern medicine. In all, over ninety percent of humanity perished in the conflict.
Only a precious few who were either very lucky or very well prepared had managed to survive. Kristen and Paul Sinclair were both - very lucky, as well as being the beneficiaries of Kristen's well prepared father, a long-time prepper, whose compulsions had made him the butt of jokes by family and friends alike. The couple just happened to be enjoying an intimate weekend at Kristen's father's getaway, a two hundred acre spread in central Texas, when the war began. They spent the better part of two months in a small underground bomb shelter before finally venturing outside. Upon emerging from the shelter, they discovered that they were living in a very different world, one made much less unforgiving by the compulsions of Kristen's father.
The Sinclair property was remote and difficult to find even if you knew the location, but had everything one needed to survive for an extended period. The house was stocked with enough freeze dried food to last the couple over three years, much longer when augmented by the large garden they had managed to create. There was an artesian spring that provided some of the purest drinking water on the planet - water filtered through thousands of feet of limestone that was better than any bottled water that had once been sold in large quantities across the globe. The spring fed a modest sized but well stocked pond that would provide plenty of fresh fish for years to come if managed properly. The property also came equipped with two huge propane tanks for cooking, and a one hundred gallon tank filled with gasoline. The latter they used to fuel a generator for very brief periods once per week in order to run a radio in a mostly vain attempt to pick up any newscasts, which nearly always warned of lawless, violent behavior being displayed by the remaining few, desperate survivors. In addition to the supplies and fuel, Kristen's father maintained an arsenal locked away in a huge safe in the master bedroom closet. The isolation, supplies, and weapons provided the couple with a most incredible opportunity for long term survival in a very changed and hostile world.
Kristen and Paul were a childless couple, in their early forties. For most of their marriage the couple struggled with their inability to conceive; however, after the war they had both begun to consider being childless a small blessing. Neither could imagine raising children in such harsh times. Married for nearly twenty years, the two still enjoyed one another's company, and found themselves laughing a lot despite the unimaginable horror the world had so recently seen. While both had succumbed to a bit of middle-aged spread in the years prior to the war, those few extra pounds had melted away with the hard work and lower calorie intake that happened in the months post-apocalypse. In fact, after only a couple of months, both Kristen and Paul looked and felt healthier than they had in years.
Kristen was a very attractive, buxom blond with toned legs and a marvelous ass - what Paul referred to as her most eye-catching physical asset. Paul, handsome, dark-haired and just under six feet, was a former middle distance runner in high school and college who had allowed himself to go to pot. Now after months of hard work he had nearly regained the physical condition he once enjoyed in college, some twenty years earlier.
Late one afternoon almost a full year after the last bomb had fallen, Kristen and Paul were sitting on their front porch watching a beautiful flaming red sunset settle over the scrub oaks that populated the property - vivid sunsets being one of the only positive side effects of nuclear war. That was when they both heard what sounded like a vehicle struggling to come up the long, winding, hilly road to their property. No vehicle had traveled that rough road since before the beginning of the war. In fact, they had not seen even one other person over the course of the last year. The couple immediately went on high alert. Paul raced back into the house and grabbed a twelve gauge shotgun and a lever action 30-30. He handed the shotgun to his wife, and the two stood shoeless on the front porch looking for all the world like a scene right out of the Beverly Hillbillies.
Paul and Kristen shouldered their weapons as they watched an ancient, battered Ford pickup that had once been painted blue, roll to a halt a scant twenty yards from their position. A tall, nearly emaciated man, exited the vehicle with his hands raised in surrender, and sporting a wide, distinctive, crooked smile on his bearded face. Upon seeing that smile, Paul and Kristen realized that the driver was their friend of some two decades, Troy Sanders. While Troy had only been on the property once, years previously, he had somehow managed to find his way back.
They were astonished at Troy's appearance as he stepped from the truck and walked toward them. At six feet three inches, he had once weighed in at two hundred and twenty pounds, with the body of an athlete. Now, walking toward them, if it hadn't been for his award winning smile he would have been unrecognizable.
"Hey guys. I hope you don't mind a little company this weekend," Troy quipped as Paul and Kristen put down their weapons and rushed to greet their old friend.
After many hugs, kisses and tears, the three friends shared their stories of survival. Troy had been on the road far from home in his role as an industrial supply salesman when the bombing started. His SUV had been instantly disabled by the EMP air bursts. Troy told how he had survived the blasts in an underground garage, and found his way back home to Houston after three months of a nearly unimaginable ordeal, only to discover that all of his family had been killed. After nearly six more months of struggling to stay alive, and not knowing where else to go, he finally decided to try and find the Sinclair place that he remembered visiting nearly a decade previously. He was able to locate an old Ford pickup that did not have the modern electronic components which would have made it sensitive to an EMP. It took him almost three more months to get the dilapidated Ford in working order, but once he got it running he set out for central Texas.
After telling his story, Troy took Kristen and Paul to the pickup, and with a dramatic flourish, pulled back a tarp that covered a huge mound of supplies packed tightly in the bed. Inside were hundreds of cans of vegetables and fruit, three hundred pounds of rice and dried beans, thirty large containers of Folgers coffee, and seven cases of premium scotch - the latter causing Paul and Kristen to erupt in shouts of joy. The party was on.
Troy quickly settled in with his old friends and made himself indispensable in the tasks of daily living. The three friends spent nearly every waking hour working hard together - sweating, laughing and on a few occasions crying. Even though the work was difficult and the hours long, the three friends always seemed to enjoy one another's company. One night, a little over two months after Troy had joined them, Kristen and Paul were speaking in subdued tones after having made love, something they seemed to do more frequently than in the days prior to the war.
"I wonder how much Troy hears when we have sex," Kristen whispered in the silence of the darkened room, her head resting lightly on Paul's shoulder.
"Well, this place is solid and well insulated, but as quiet as it is out here I imagine he hears enough to know what we're doing. Does that bother you?"
"Not really; although, I do feel sort of bad that we have each other and he has nobody."
"I know," Paul whispered. "He probably hasn't had sex in over a year. From what he told us, the dead he saw between Houston and here outnumbered the living by a hundred to one, and he said the few who were still alive looked to be in really bad shape. Who knows if he'll ever even find another woman?"
Kristen hesitated a moment and then whispered, "I was a little too embarrassed to tell you about this when it happened, but last week I went out to the barn to get the rake for work I was doing in my herb garden. When I opened the door I spotted Troy lying on that old cot in the corner. He was...uh...well...he was masturbating."
Paul was quiet for a moment. "Did he see you?"
