Prologue

Back before the release of In Times Of Trouble: Aftermath, my wife suggested I write something between books to release to the public. So I sat down and did just that, which is the Christmas Eve scene in the beginning of the second book.

Since then, there’s been countless times when I’d think of a scenario that, while it didn’t quite fit into the overall story, I felt had enough there to at least jot down. This is one of those ideas.

You may not realize it, but these characters are very real to me in a way. As real as any one of you reading this. So, writing the death of any of them ( well, almost any ) is not easy, and sometimes the “loss” feels very real, especially as a father myself writing the death of a character’s son. Trust me, that shit evokes parental nightmares sitting here at the keyboard.

I don’t know what it feels like to lose a child, and I pray to God I never find out. But I couldn’t help but think about what it did for Rachel and Gary Sherman. So I decided to write it out, and use it as the prologue for the new book.

It doesn’t give anything away, although I managed to tie it in at the end. But it’s a little something to hold you over until the book is released:

About a mile from where they once called home, Rachel and Gary Sherman stood on the roadside, overlooking the field where the people of Hammond’s Corners fought off Don Sommers’ group. As was often the case when they visited the spot, they stood together, silent.

Though it’d been months since that day, the loss of their son Clint was a wound that remained open, as though it’d happened the day before. Still, in some strange way, it also felt like a lifetime ago. 

A large wooden cross, painted white, marked the spot in the field below them where the town’s dead, including their son, were laid to rest. Simple fieldstones served as markers for each grave, spaced apart at equal distances and in rows.

Rachel had resisted at first, preferring that Clint be buried closer to home. However, Gary had felt differently. In his mind, this was now sacred ground, consecrated by the blood of those who had died while protecting their hometown. Therefore, it was only fitting that the dead, including their son, be buried in a place where they would be honored and remembered long after he and Rachel were gone. In Gary’s mind, their son had died a hero. After the last bit of dirt was shoveled onto Clint’s grave, he swore that a proper memorial would be built one day so that future generations would know what happened there. His oath somewhat eased Rachel’s mind, and she agreed that their son should be buried here with the others. 

The reverence shown for their dead by the people of Hammond’s Corners stood in stark contrast to the treatment of the remains of the would-be invaders. Don’s men were removed from the field and dragged as far away as possible, their bodies unceremoniously thrown into a pile. Left for vultures and other scavengers to dispose of, their legacy would end as a pile of bird shit splattered under a tree somewhere and forgotten.    

The sun shone bright even as a chilly, late autumn breeze blew through the valley. Rachel shivered despite the sunshine’s warmth, so Gary put an arm around her and drew her nearer to him. She stiffened slightly, then wrapped her arms around him, but it felt mechanical, as if she did it because she felt she had to. It’d been that way between them since the day Clint died. In her grief, she pushed him away, which led Gary to suspect that she blamed him. It was a fresh heartbreak on top of the other each time she did it. But he wouldn’t give up on her. 

“Was it worth it?”

“Hm?”

“Was it worth it?” she repeated. 

“I’m not following you. Was what all worth it?”

“This,” she said, pointing out over the field before them. “All this violence and death. The loss. Was it worth it?” 

Perhaps because she hadn’t seen what had happened in Milltown, or maybe because grief clouded her thinking, Gary wasn’t sure. But he felt that Rachel overlooked the obvious outcome had Don Sommers and his men won the day here. Still, Gary paused and thought about it some. Then he did something uncharacteristic and chose his words carefully.

“That’s not for us to decide,” he told her. 

She was quiet a moment as she considered his answer. 

“Then who?”

He pointed out over the field.

“Them. They decide.”

She pulled away from him slightly and looked up at him. 

“I don’t get it. We lost our son, and you-“

“Yes, we lost Clint,” he said. “But he lost, no, he gave more than just his life.”

“What more could he have lost than that?”

“All the things he could have done had he lived. The things he’d have gotten to see. The things we have. To find love, have a family of his own, and grow old. He won’t ever get to all of that and more that we’ve gotten to do.”

“But he was just a boy; he couldn’t have known that.”

“See, I think he could have. Obviously, we have no way of ever knowing, but before we left I had a talk with the boys. I wanted to make sure they knew what could happen. That they knew what they would see and that it wasn’t like the movies. And even though I gave them the option of staying out of it, and I did, Rachel, I told them they could stay behind…”

“I never knew,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I just assumed you, well… that you made them go.”

“No, I would never do that. Hell, I blame myself for letting them go in the first place. But ultimately, the choice was theirs, and they chose to protect their family and home.”

He waited, giving her time to process that information, before he continued. 

“We feel the loss,” he continued. A single tear streamed down his cheek. “But Clint and the others lost more. As much as I dislike the term, it’s so overused; they truly made the ultimate sacrifice.”

“Our son died a hero,” he continued in a shaky voice. “He is, and will always be, my hero. All of them. And as God is my witness, someday a proper memorial will be built here, even if I have to build it with my own two hands.”

Gary reached up to wipe his eyes. Her arms still wrapped around him, Rachel hugged him tighter. And for the first time in far too long, it felt to him like she meant it.

They remained there a while longer, silently holding each other.

 Only this time, it was different.