The Union Creek Journal

A Chronicle of Survival

Archive for the tag “union creek journal”

Day 1, 0414 Hours: Madness

They say you can survive three days without water. Whoever “they” are … they probably never tried. I’m on day number two without water. My tongue is swollen. It feels like I have a dry sponge in my mouth. My head is pounding like the bass drum in a marching band. Every muscle in my body threatens to betray me with each passing step. I can barely stand. My forward progress, with the weight of my pack and weapons, could be measured in inches. Yet, I have miles to go.

I don’t dare think of the total number. It’s too large. Instead, I must focus on each step. “Just one more; just one more,” I keep repeating to myself.

Surely, if someone observed me over the last twenty hours or so, they would think I was crazy.

There are plenty of those these days – crazy people, I mean. No shortage whatsoever. Millions have been driven to madness. Millions more have died in the last few months – died of starvation; died of exposure; died of dehydration, as I may shortly; died … of madness. A fog has settled over our country and driven the population to the brink … the brink of insanity, the brink of extinction.

I’m close myself – close to madness. That’s why I’m writing this. I’m hoping that writing down my thoughts will keep me sane. I knew someone, what seems like a long time ago, who did the same thing. He kept a journal of his thoughts and actions. He tried to fight the insanity that reached out for each of us. Some, it beckoned with a siren’s song. Some, it grasped with dirty-nailed fingers and hands covered in blood, dirt and grease. Others, the madness led like a pied piper over a cliff into a sea of irrational thoughts and actions.

I need to get moving again. My body and my brain have locked arms in protest. They’re singing kumbaya and refusing to get up. Where are the stinking riot police when you need them? I need some jack-booted thugs with water canons and batons to break up the protest and get my lazy mind and body moving again.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Put down the pencil and pick up the pack. Do it, you weakling. Move!

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If you liked this excerpt from the sequel to The Union Creek Journal, and you haven’t read The Journal yet, you can purchase it for your Kindle reader or in PDF format.

 

 

PDF Version of The Journal Now Available

The PDF version of The Journal is now available for download.

If you would like to be able to carry a copy of The Journal with you and read it offline, you can now purchase The Journal as a PDF in addition to being able to download it from Amazon for Kindle.  To request a PDF copy of The Journal, simply go to the Journal PDF Request page and complete the form.  Once your request is received, you will receive an e-mail PayPal invoice for $6.99.  Once you’ve paid the invoice, you will receive a second e-mail with a link that will allow you to download The Journal as a PDF.

Please do not distribute the PDF as the work is copyrighted.

Thanks and enjoy!

Toby

The End

You’ve reached the end of The Union Creek Journal.  We all survived!

I’d like to say, “thank you” to everyone who has followed along as The Journal wound its way, like its namesake Union Creek, through the twists and turns of the Johnsons’ lives in their post-apocalyptic world.  I hope you enjoyed The Journal and, perhaps, even learned a thing to two.  If you look for them, you’ll find lots of tips and ideas for survival in any sort of difficult situation.  They’re like Easter eggs, only slightly hidden and just waiting to be found.

I’d also like to thank those who helped keep me on the straight and narrow path of correct grammar, spelling and technical detail.  There are several of you.  Perhaps chief among my “editors”, Karen, you sent me an e-mail nearly every day with some sort of correction.  As always, thanks for your help.

And now to the future … there will be a sequel to The Journal.  It’s already started.  Stay tuned here for updates.  I plan to take a little time off before I write the rest of the sequel.  The daily publishing schedule of The Journal has taken its toll on a few areas of my life that will soon receive some much-deserved attention.  After that, back to the grindstone.  The sequel must be finished!

For those who are interested, the sequel to The Journal will be delivered a little bit differently.  It will still be available for free in daily installments.  (Of course, you’re always welcome to make a donation if you feel so inclined.)  In addition to its free availability in daily installments, the sequel to The Journal will also be available in its entirety for a fee once the first few daily entries are published.

More forward looking statements … The Journal will be published in its entirety for Kindle (available through Amazon), Nook (available through Barnes & Noble) and as a PDF – most likely in that order.  As of yet, Glenn Beck has not responded and no other “top shelf” publisher has expressed an interest in publishing a paperback version of The Journal.  Several of you have expressed an interest in a physical copy of the book.  If I am unable to secure a publisher, I will most likely utilize a publish-on-demand service to deliver the book in paperback.

Thanks again.

Be ever vigilant,

Toby Asplin, Author: The Union Creek Journal

May 25, 2015: Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day.

I still can’t believe my dad is gone – that he gave his life for our freedom just a little more than two weeks ago on May 9, 2015.

He led the charge against the U.N. soldiers that wanted to take away our farm and put us in FEMA camps or kill us.  He was a brave man.

Sometimes I still cry when I remember him.  I think he’d be OK with that.  He was always telling me to be tough, not to cry, but I know he had a sensitive side too.  I know he was sad about what happened to our country.  He may not have cried on the outside, but I bet he did on the inside.

I think sometimes when he got mad on the outside, it was because he felt like crying but he needed to be tough.  He needed to be tough so we would keep believing that things would get better.

I think he wrote this journal because there were some things he just couldn’t say out loud.  Maybe when I’m older, I’ll do the same.  I hope the world is a better place when I’m his age.  The age he was.

Today we’ll decorate his grave with flags and flowers to honor what he did and what he fought for.  We’ll do the same for the other people from Union Creek that fought and died to keep us free from the U.N. soldiers.

They’re all heroes and we’re still free.

As long as we’re free, there’s still a chance that things can get better.

– D.J. Johnson

May 9, 2015: Death is Not the Worst of Evils

It is just after midnight and we are about to mount up.  The heat of the day has not yet dissipated.  I can hear the frogs singing their chorus down by the pond as the sweat trickles down my spine.  Is it the heat or my nerves?  Probably a bit of both.  I am more anxious about this battle than I have been about anything in years.  It feels … monumental … pivotal.  It is.

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Relief Pitcher

As Pitcher and his men crested a long rise, a fertile valley spread out before them.  Below were the signs of started crops, hillsides dotted with cattle and the pungent odor of hogs kept in confinement.  Although it reminded Pitcher nothing of his home in the Georgia swamps, it felt welcoming after more than 1000 miles over treacherous dirt roads.

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May 8, 2015: Just Over the Horizon

Today’s journal entry will be brief.  I’m only pausing long enough from our preparations to write down a few thoughts about the last six months and the upcoming days.  Tomorrow we go to war and there is much to do between now and then.

It has been just over six months since I started this journal and only slightly longer than that since the world crashed headlong into a financial abyss so deep that it may take decades for those who have survived to pull themselves up and out of that chasm.

At the six month mark, there still is really little evidence of recovery.  Tomorrow’s battle is a pointed reminder of how lawless and uncivilized our country remains.

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The Fight

The fight began just before dinner.

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May 7, 2015: The Essence of War

In all likelihood, we only have hours until the forces spotted by Tanner’s men are within striking distance, but I needed a little time to think and plan.  So, I stuffed my shooting mat, spotter’s scope, a couple targets and 100 rounds of ammo in my Real Deal Brazil Manaus pack, grabbed my Remington 700 and headed over to the east end of the farm for a little target practice.  The gathering at Pete’s wasn’t scheduled until 10:00 a.m. and I had a feeling that sharpening my long-range shooting skills wouldn’t be a bad thing.

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May 6, 2015: Embrace the … New Normal

Two trucks left the farm today and one returned.

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