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  (Post-Apocalyptic MILF)

  Holly Ardent

  Text copyright © 2019, Holly Ardent

  All Rights Reserved

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  Sweat dripped from Karl's forehead as he straightened up. He wiped the rest of it from his brow then walked to the rain barrel at the corner of his house and dipped his head. When he pulled it back out, he flung his head backwards throwing most of the water out of his hair and off of his face.

  My house, he thought. It might not be a three thousand square foot McMansion, but it's bigger than I need for just myself. I know dad told me to go bigger than I'd planned and I'm glad I did, but I just wish I knew why. He said I'd want the space eventually, but wouldn't go into any details.

  He looked out at the garden he'd just been tending. It wasn't the standard row garden most people think of, instead it was a series of square boxes with a mix of compost, peat moss, and vermiculite filling them. The method was called square foot gardening and was a mildly intensive version that normally showed much better results than the rows most people used. He had twenty of the boxes set up and they took up a good chunk of time first thing every morning.

  Although it would take two to three times as long to tend to row gardens that would produce a similar amount, so it's all good, he thought.

  A glance up at the sun reassured him that his solar systems should be producing at full capacity currently. Everything in his house ran off of solar in one way or another, except for the stove. For that he had a nearly full five hundred gallon propane tank plus a second one of the same size that had been filled and was still untouched. He figured if he used it sparingly he had propane for his stove for years.

  He walked around the back of his house and opened the door to where his battery bank for his main solar system was located. A quick look at the figures on the equipment told him he was alright and there were no problems there. He did similar checks on the solar system that ran his well pump and the one whose only job was to keep the chest freezer in his garage running. Everything was in the green and he considered, just for a moment, going and checking on the systems he'd installed for both his dad and his older sister, but shook his head knowing that they had to get used to doing it themselves, just in case.

  The family lived on one massive lot of land. His father had been a carpenter, eventually forming his own business and doing quite well at it. He'd bought an old ranch with part of his earnings and given both his children a large plot of land from it to build their own houses. He'd also worked on the houses himself, since it was what he'd done professionally. With Karl's electrical skills and his brother in law's plumbing skills, they'd been able to build both his older sister and her husband's house and Karl's own house almost at cost.

  The end result was that Karl could see his parents' house and his older sister's house from his front porch. All three shared communal chores like standing watch and tending the main garden plot, which was almost farm sized. Aside from that they could each do their own thing.

  He went back to the porch and picked up the early produce he'd harvested that morning. He'd been looking forward to being able to harvest his own garden boxes. It had been a month and a half since the grocery store ran out of everything and closed, pretty much for good as far as he could tell, and he'd been living off of stored processed foods. The freeze dried foods he had stored away were very handy, but a constant diet of them grew tiring quickly. He had canned goods and dried goods stored away as well, but the thought of biting into fresh produce had him drooling.

  He set his produce on the table and proceeded to cut two slices of bread off the sourdough loaf he'd made the day before. He had a sourdough starter, as did the rest of his family. With three starters, if anyone managed to destroy theirs somehow there were backups available.

  He laid the bread on a plate and applied a generous helping of mustard to it. Beef jerky that he'd been soaking in water for a few hours was the next addition to his sandwich. Then he piled on a thick layer of the fresh greens. He rinsed a couple of radishes and dropped those on the plate next to his sandwich. With a glass of water in his other hand, he made his way to the table.

  He'd just set his plate and glass down when the radio on his belt crackled.

  “Karl, you read me?”

  His father's voice sounded calm, so Karl wasn't worried that it might be an emergency. He plucked the radio off his belt and replied.

  “I'm here, what's up?”

  “Need you at the gate. You've got a visitor.”

  “A what?” Karl asked.

  He shook his head.

  Who the hell is here to visit me that dad would actually let in? I know he said my friends had to make their own way, even Jerry who prepped as much as we did. So, who is it?

  “A visitor. One you might like to speak to. I won't let her in though unless you say it's okay.”

  Her? Karl thought. What woman do I know that would be trying to visit me?

  “Be right there, dad,” Karl sent.

  He covered his sandwich with a cloth towel, hoping to keep it mostly fresh, then clipped the radio back onto his belt and headed towards the gate at a jog.

  When he came in sight of the gate he groaned inwardly. He immediately recognized the woman standing on the other side of it, chatting with his father. It was Mrs. Hawson, his senior English teacher from when he was in high school, even if she was dressed in a fashion he'd never seen her wear back then.

  He was of two minds about continuing to the gate. She'd been fantasy fodder for him throughout his senior year since the woman was downright hot. She'd been married and had a pair of kids just a little older than him when he'd been taking her class. He'd been a favorite student of hers in class, at least until the final paper for the year was due.

  He'd written a ten page paper on society and prepping, pointing out things that indicated the slow downfall of society, their ramifications, and prepping solutions to counter them. She'd been disgusted with his paper, going on about how it was all fantasy and how the requirements for the paper had been non-fiction. She'd begrudgingly given him a 'C' on the paper since the technical writing was good and all the facts that he'd referenced could be verified. It had dropped his grade for the year to a 'B' instead of the 'A' he'd been carrying.

  Overall the grade change hadn't been a big thing. He'd been planning on, and done, a short stint at a vocational school. His hobby during high school had been building, and selling, portable solar generators. The knowledge he'd gained from that had allowed him to test out of most requirements the vocational school had to become a solar installer. He'd done a one year apprenticeship with a local installer and been certified himself. Meanwhile he'd continued building the solar generators, the devices becoming smaller as the tech advanced.

  He'd also used that time to install the solar on his dad's and sister's houses. After he'd done that, his dad offered to help him build his own home. They'd pulled in his brother in law to do the plumbing which kept costs down, but even so the materials bill was hefty. He'd managed to pay it by continuing to live in his father's house until they'd finished his own. Now everything they had up here was free and clear.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, looking at Mrs. Hawson again. She'd normally worn dresses when teaching so the blue jeans and leather jacket he saw her wearing now struck him as odd. What didn't strike him as odd was the pistol holstered at her hip and the rifle slung over her back. Lots of people carried those when going out now and the sight of them wasn't odd. He was just slightly surprised to see her with them. The part of his paper she'd eviscerated the worst was the part suggesting that firearms would be a necessity as society continue to
collapse, at least for those who wanted to remain unmolested.

  He'd stopped walking while he thought, but now he just had to know why she was here. Continuing forward, he walked up to the gate. Once he arrived, his dad silently departed, returning to his shift on watch.

  “Mrs. Hawson, this is a surprise,” Karl said.

  “Miss,” she said.

  He cocked his head, confused.

  “Miss Hawson,” she repeated, “I haven't been married for a while now.”

  He blinked, his view of her shattered. He'd used her for his fantasies, yes, he knew lots of the male students did, but not once did he even consider that she might be unfaithful to her husband, never mind divorce him.

  He shook his head again, his thoughts once more jumbled.

  “Uh... my condolences?” he said.

  “Unnecessary,” she replied, “but thank you. It was my call and, much to my surprise, he didn't even argue that we should stay together. I guess we'd both changed, but in different directions.”

  Karl was feeling a bit overwhelmed at this point so it took him a while to form his next question. Surprisingly, despite all the bitching he'd done about her grading on his final paper, the silence was comfortable. He was amused to note that she'd developed the habit of scanning her surroundings.

  “Good habit,” he said, “but unnecessary right now. Dad's on watch now, he doesn't miss much.”

  She looked at him, one corner of her mouth turning up into what could be a smile, or a smirk.

  “That's not what you said in your paper. You said: Habits that you intentionally train yourself into should not be discontinued simply because you think you're safe.”

  His jaw dropped. She'd just quoted part of his paper, the one she'd hated, back at him verbatim.

  “Um... What can I do for you Mrs... I mean Miss Hawson? Why are you here?”

  She glanced down at her feet for a moment and Karl was sure he saw the beginnings of a blush on her face.

  “Call me Jill,” she said, “it'll be easier on you that way. It took long enough for me to stop thinking of myself as a Mrs. that I can't expect others to remember right away.”

  “Okay then Jill, what can I do for you?”

  “Can I come in to explain? I can leave my weapons out here.”

  “Sure, you can keep your weapons too, both only .22s aren't they?”

  She looked down again, almost as though she were ashamed.

  “Yes, they are. I found that anything larger made my wrists hurt and my accuracy suffered horribly.”

  “I wouldn't worry about that. An accurate shot with a .22 is better than a miss with a larger caliber.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that in your paper, using the largest caliber you could shoot accurately,” she said.

  What the fuck? he thought. How does she know my paper so well? She hated it so much I figured she'd shred it if she could.

  “Yeah, come on in. I trust you enough to keep your .22s with you. Like I said, dad's on watch and he's got a scoped rifle in a much larger caliber than that.”

  When she looked up again, she appeared torn. As though she were happy he was going to let her keep her guns when she came in, but disturbed that he felt the need to make the veiled threat.

  He opened the pedestrian gate to allow her in, then closed and locked it behind her again.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Are you hungry? I was just about to eat lunch, I can make you a sandwich if you like.”

  She smiled, a little, and nodded.

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you,” she said.

  She followed him to his house and then inside. He quickly cut a little more bread, pulled out the rest of the jerky he'd had soaking to fill it along with the remainder of the greens he'd harvested earlier on.

  “Mustard?” he asked.

  “Is that beef?”

  He nodded.

  “Then yes please.”

  He put her plate on the table and got her a glass of water, then sat down and returned to his abandoned lunch.

  “Eat first, talk later,” he said. “I've had a busy morning and am kind of hungry.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your lunch then,” Jill replied.

  “Not a problem, so long as you don't continue to keep me from it.”

  She went quiet and picked up her sandwich, taking a bite.

  “Mmm, fresh greens. It's been... quite a while since I had any of those,” she said.

  Karl didn't think he needed to answer her, it sounded as though she were talking to herself, and his mouth was full of sandwich he was chewing on.

  They both continued to eat until their sandwiches were finished. He was surprised to notice that she wasn't worried about being dainty or neat or anything, she finished nearly as quickly as he did. The old teacher he knew would've been worried about crumbs, making a mess, or even just eating properly and not wolfing the food down. Evidently Jill had changed more than she'd suggested.

  When they were done, she sat back and took a long drink of water. Setting the glass down she sighed, then started to speak.

  “I'll answer your question, but do you mind if I give you some background first?” she said.

  “Go right ahead.”

  “Okay. Well, the last time I saw you was graduation. At that point I was still disgusted over your paper. I'd thought you could do much better than that and, to me, it appeared that you'd blown off the assignment and just half-assed it.”

  She took another sip of water before continuing.

  “So, your paper was stuck in my mind. I hated the content, I thought you could've done better, and for those reasons I just couldn't forget it. So when some of the things you'd mentioned as possibly happening to signify things getting worse occurred, I recognized them. I don't know if you know, but I make a photocopy of all my students' final papers. It helps me prove plagiarism down the road, which I've encountered more than once. So I pulled out my copy of your paper and read it again. Noticing that you were correct about things that might happen had forced me to have a more open mind about it. I finally accessed some of the links you'd put in your appendix.”

  She swallowed and looked down at the floor.

  “It was the FEMA one that really caught my attention. The one that said everyone should have enough of everything to support themselves for three days? I also remembered just how long it had taken FEMA to respond to some natural emergencies in the past. I'm not dumb, I put two and two together and realized that they were pretty much saying that if anything happened we'd be on our own for at least three days before the government could respond. And you know how I feel about the government.”

  Karl snorted. Jill's tirades about government incompetence had been legendary when he was back in school.

  “So then I had both you and the government recommending some degree of preparedness. The fact that the government is incompetent told me that there was something wrong with their advice so I did some research and discovered just how many times three days of supplies wouldn't have lasted people until FEMA arrived to help, when they arrived to help at all. It also reinforced that you might be correct, to a small degree. So that's when I started prepping myself.”

  “Okay, so what's all that have to do with you being here?” he asked.

  “Wait, don't derail my train of thought,” she said. “That all happened in the first summer after you graduated. There are more pertinent things I should tell you before answering that question.”

  “Okay then, go ahead.”

  I hope this doesn't take too long, I've got a lot of other stuff I need to do today, he thought.

  “So, at that point I still didn't believe the potential degree of the problem you'd outlined in your paper, but I was admitting to myself that there was a potential problem at least. I continued to research some of the things you'd said, read some of the links you'd had in your paper, and watch current news. When more of the things you'd predicted happened, inflation shooting up to devalue the currency, gas pr
ices shooting up even higher? Well, that pushed me more towards believing everything you'd said, and I started doing more prepping still. That's when the problem with my husband started. He complained about the money I was spending on preps, said he'd rather we took a cruise with that money.”

  She shook her head and sighed again.

  “When I pointed out all the problems cruises had run into recently with viruses and the like, he scoffed at the idea that there might be any problem with one we took. When I pointed out that even FEMA recommended some degree of preparedness, he refused to even look at the website. My response to him was to double down on my prepping, only now I was using just my own money instead of our joint funds.”

  “I'm sorry,” Karl said, “that must've been rough. Fortunately my family didn't have that problem. It was my dad that started me prepping in the first place.”

  “Yes, well. We were in an unhappy truce until I bought my first firearm, this 10/22 right here. When he saw me bring that into the house he freaked out. I never realized he was that anti-gun, he'd never spoken of it. I guess maybe we weren't as happy as I'd thought, didn't know each other as well as I'd thought.”

  She fiddled with the large belt buckle on her pants and Karl broke out in a grin when he noticed it was the classic emblem seen on some trucker's mudflaps. She noticed his grin and shook her head.

  “I'll get to that,” she said glancing down at the buckle. “So, that was the last straw. He told me to get rid of it, I told him to get out after he'd harped on it for a while. We ended up divorcing like I said, there was a bright side to that though. After everything was split even, I had a lot more money for prepping. I moved to a smaller place, a small house in what I'll admit wasn't the best part of town. I kept prepping while I continued to teach.”

  She blushed heavily.

  “I'll admit to using your paper as a general guideline, but I also researched more myself. I was saving up to buy a bug out location of my own, but I didn't manage that in time. Fortunately I'd run into your dad a few months before the shit hit the fan. He saw me buying a brick of .22 ammunition and struck up a conversation with me. He said that you used to speak highly of me, and frequently, but that after your final paper you'd started mixing in some less flattering things as well. He thought you'd take it well if you knew your paper had gotten through to me finally. I just thought I should come by and let you know that you did manage to succeed with what you were trying to do with your paper. You made at least one more person aware of what was coming, me. Thank you.”