The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4)
Read The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Online
Authors: Deborah D. Moore
Tags: #prepper survivalist, #prepper survival, #survivalist, #dystopian, #prepper adventure, #prepper, #post apocalyptic survival, #weather disasters, #disaster survival, #action suspense
The
Journal
Book
Four
Deborah D. Moore
A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK
Published at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-61868-622-0
ISBN (eBook):
978-1-61868-623-7
RAGING TIDE
The Journal Book 4
© 2015 by Deborah D. Moore
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Matt Mosley
This book is a work of fiction. People,
places, events, and situations are the product of the author's
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without
the written permission of the author and publisher.
Permuted Press
109 International Drive, Suite 300
Franklin, TN 37067
THE JOURNAL
SERIES:
Cracked Earth (Book One)
Ash Fall (Book Two)
Crimson Skies (Book Three)
Look for the fifth installment of
The
Journal
series, coming soon!
I’d like to thank my family and friends who
have encouraged and supported me during the process of writing this
series.
This would not be complete if I didn’t thank
Boyne Soozie for giving me the leather journal that started all of
this.
Special thanks to personal friends who
allowed me to include their names in the stories: Bob C. &
Kathy O., Guy & Dawn M., Pastor Carolyn, Dee Streiner, Ken
Krause, Harold Wolfe, Marie, and especially my sister Pam and my
two sons, Eric and Jason. My apologies if I’ve forgotten
anyone.
Another thank you to all the ladies on my
woman’s group – you’re the greatest and I couldn’t have done it
without you.
And to Michael Wilson at Permuted Press for
taking a chance on this unknown, unpublished author – thank you for
your trust in me.
Felicia Sullivan, my editor and now my
friend, who has patiently sorted out my manuscripts and made them
readable. Thank you SO much. I hope you know how much and how
valuable you are to so many of us.
Being Single is Great
I have so much freedom!
I have the freedom to paint any room any color
I have the freedom to spend money I earned the way I
want to
I have the freedom to spend my birthday working and
come home to an empty house, but it’s MY house, all mine, and no
one can take it away from me, not even the bank
I have the freedom to get up and read or write at
2am if I have yet another sleepless night
I have the freedom to have soup for breakfast and
oatmeal for dinner without someone telling me it’s wrong
I have the freedom to make a mistake without someone
telling me I’m stupid
I have the freedom to leave the dinner dishes until
morning
I have the freedom to leave the outdoor Christmas
lights up all year and turn them on in May or August just because
they make me smile
I have the freedom to avoid petty arguments that
stem from jealousy or fear because we are both scared and
uncertain
I have the freedom to reach over and feel the cold
sheets on the other side of the bed
I have the freedom to be the only one worrying that
the cat hasn’t come home in two days
I have the freedom to spend Christmas morning alone,
with no tree and no presents
I have the freedom to always be the odd-one out at
every New Year’s Eve party
I have the freedom to ache for a sincere hug
I have the freedom to cry myself to sleep at night
because I’m so lonely for someone to love
Yeah, being single is great….
D. Moore
To everyone who has ever needed a second chance.
“Life always offers a second chance,
It’s called Tomorrow.”
Author unknown
The world is shaking apart and the North
American continent is at the heart of it. A seemingly minor tremor
escalated into ripping the country in half at the New Madrid fault
line. Shipping ceased and sent the country into a tailspin, with
small towns like Moose Creek, Michigan suffering the most. Recovery
came slow as the country pulled itself together, until another more
terrifying quake hit, awakening the sleeping caldera beneath
Yellowstone. The deadly ash thrown into the atmosphere decimated
those who were unprepared or unwilling to accept it could affect
them. The ash that now circled the world disrupted weather patterns
everywhere, blotting out the sun and stirring up massive
storms.
Moose Creek survived – barely. Life goes on
in the small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. An infusion
of residents came on the heels of the devastating fire in a nearby
city, and with the repopulation came more problems, including a
killer virus that claimed the life of Allexa Smeth’s husband. An
unprecedented earthquake during the funeral of Dr. Mark Robbins
divided the Upper Peninsula in half, sending billions of gallons of
Lake Superior surging into Lake Michigan, resulting in the
destruction of many coastal communities.
April 1
“What do you mean
you’re going on a road trip?” Jason demanded, placing his fists on
his hips as his brother Eric scowled at me.
My two boys, men now, were so much alike yet
they were so different. Jason, with his green eyes and dark hair,
was outgoing and quick to laugh. Eric, with clear blue eyes and
sandy hair like his father, was quiet and reserved, mostly from
years spent in the military where he learned to keep his own
counsel.
“Just what I said,” I shot right back. “And
don’t you two dare try to tell me what I can and cannot do!” I was
tempted to shake my finger at my two adult sons. “Look,” I pleaded
with them, “I need to do this. I need to do
something
. I
can’t just sit around all day, every day. Mark is dead, I’m
not.”
My voice hitched saying his name. The flu
that swept through Moose Creek late last fall claimed over two
hundred lives, including the life of my husband. We had only four
months together, four months of love and happiness and I will
cherish that time forever.
“When is this supposed to happen, Mom?” Eric
asked, his mouth pulled into a straight line.
“We haven’t decided yet,” I answered
truthfully. “The colonel is antsy to get going, however, I’ve
convinced him we need to wait for several reasons. The first and
foremost will be the weather. Regardless of how temperate it’s been
here, I’m not willing to risk being snow-bound in a tent in the
middle of nowhere from a late season storm. Plus, I want to pack
carefully and make sure we don’t forget something vital.”
“I’m just not sure about you running off
with Colonel Jim, Mom. I like him and all, but isn’t it… a bit
soon?” Jason frowned.
“A bit soon for what? Jim is my friend,
nothing more, and I resent what you’re implying.” I turned away
from them and poured myself another cup of tea, trying to control
my temper.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jason said, hugging me
from behind. “We worry about you, that’s all.”
“I know you do, and I appreciate that,” I
replied, softening some. “This is something that I don’t need to
do, I
want
to do it! I want to do something new to get my
life back. Please understand that.”
“What can we do to help?” Eric asked,
capitulating.
*
“Are you sure you want to be doing this,
Allex?” Tom White asked.
“Oh, not you too.” I shook my head and sat
down across from the town’s new mayor. “Tom, you’ve been my friend
for years. When have I ever done something that I haven’t thought
long and hard about?”
“You married Mark on rather short notice,”
he said matter-of-factly, leaning back in his big leather
chair.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t think it out
first.”
“Is he giving you a hard time, too, Allex?”
Colonel Jim Andrews said from the doorway. “Ever since I mentioned
this road trip to him, Tom has been trying to talk me out of it.”
He came into the room, grabbed the nearest chair and turned it
around, straddling it.
“That’s not true, Jim, I just want you to
take someone else. I need Allex here,” Tom said.
“No you don’t, Tom. I haven’t done anything
worthwhile or helpful since… well, in months,” I answered, standing
so I could pace. “It’s hard to explain. I want to do something new,
something… exciting, before I’m too old to have an adventure.”
*
“So, Allex, if I know you at all, you’ve
been making lists,” Tom said, while the three of us sat around the
kitchen table at the house on the lake later that afternoon.
I had made dinner at home and brought it
over so we could have a planning meeting without my sons
interfering. Homemade pasta and a large kettle of spiced venison
sat in the center on a folded towel to protect the polished wood
from the heat of the pot. The delicate aroma of the cinnamon wafted
around the room on the gentle breeze coming off Lake Meade. I set a
basket of fresh baked rolls between the two men.
I took a moment to look at these two men who
had become so important in my life. Tom, with his chocolate brown
eyes and dark honey colored hair that was inching away from his
forehead at an alarming rate, had been my friend for many years.
Since he was only in his late forties, it must be the stress, and
God knows we’d had enough of that this past year. When we first met
during emergency management training, we felt a slight attraction
that ended quickly when he met the woman he was to marry. We left
our relationship as good friends, never to be anything else.
