From Canada With Love
A Post-Apocalyptic Story of the Second Ice Age
First edition
Copyright in June 2020.
Ira J. Tabankin
Knoxville, TN 39720
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my wife and true love, Patricia.
Thanks:
I’d like to thank my beta readers, who helped me with their knowledge, comments, and encouragement. I’d like to thank D. Thompson and Darryl Lapidus, who edited and made this edition possible.
Note:
Please note this isn’t a politically correct novel. Please recognize artistic license is used throughout this story. Any tense disparities are the author's view of the story as it's written.
Work of Fiction:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A Note on Punctuation:
Much of this story is a conversation between people. When we speak, we don’t do so in the same manner as the written word. Pauses in the written word aren’t usually there when we talk to each other. As such, the punctuation used in conversations is written as people speak, not as it would be in a written paragraph.
Copyright June 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Ira Tabankin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Ira Tabankin has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
Chapter 1
Jonathan (Jon) Coats, 48, sat in the corner of his house located in Moncton, New Brunswick. Canada. He silently watched his wife, Erin, and their two daughters, Trinity, 16, and Ariden, 9. All were sleeping; they were wearing two sweaters over their tops and lined jeans. Over the sweaters, they were covered in their thickest winter coats, gloves, hats, and even boots, which were worn over two pairs of socks. Every blanket they owned was covering them. Jon had been woken by the gust of wind which rattled the window above his head.
Jon glanced at his watch. He noted to himself that electricity wasn’t due to be turned back on for another four hours and only then for five hours, if they were lucky. In the previous three weeks, they hadn’t been lucky, and the electricity provided by the city was on for only three hours. They’d been warned the city was going to permanently turn the electricity off this week.
They had already burned up all of their stored wood. Jon thought that when the wind lessened, if it did, he would cut down his fence to use it as firewood or he might check his neighbor’s houses. He hated the thought of breaking into them. What would happen if they returned? Jon laughed to himself. Why would they or anyone want to return here? We’ve been told to get away from here and move south. Most left when the first warning had been issued. Many, like Jon, thought things would improve. Surely the sun would burn through and surely the winds would clear the skies. Jon had learned that his hope of this or that working didn’t. The skies weren’t clearing, and, if anything, it was getting colder, not warmer. Hell, it was mid-July, and it was already colder than any deep winter he’d remembered. The sky was still a deep gray with the strange clouds still filled with debris.
He’d already had his family empty their dressers and end tables. He’d used the wood they were made of to feed the fire, which was the little warmth their house had. The fireplace in their living room was usually the only source of heat they had. It had to be kept going around the clock because Jon couldn’t count on the electricity coming back on or when it did, how long it would last.
The other problem with the electricity was sometimes it came on in a massive spike which burned out appliances or sometimes it came on with not enough watts to run any appliance. They had used up their all of their extra propane tanks a week ago. Since none of the stores were open, there weren’t any more to be had.
Jon silently sat up, remembering what led them to this. He remembered how it used to be. He remembered the warm sun and how it felt on his skin, how if he wasn’t careful, it would burn his youngest daughter’s light skin. His mind drifted to his first date with Erin, who he fell in love with during that date. He relived that date many times. Next, he remembered the birth of both of his daughters, and he had thought he wanted a son. A son to teach about cars and to go on drives together. He remembered the times he’d spent with his own
