Nathan Jones

FIRST WINTER

Best Laid Plans Recap

First Winter, Book One of the Nuclear Winter series, continues the events of the five books in the Best Laid Plans series, which in order from first to last are Fuel, Shortage, Invasion, Reclamation, and Determination. This recap is included for those who haven’t had an opportunity to read Best Laid Plans, or would like to refresh their memory of the events that took place in that series.

Best Laid Plans centers around the town of Aspen Hill in Central Utah, after an attack on the refineries along the Gulf of Mexico leaves the US out of fuel overnight. This leads to a crisis few saw coming that affects the whole country and the world at large. The story largely follows the main characters Trev Smith, his cousin Lewis Halsson, and their friend Matt Larson.

Fuel begins at the time of the attack with Trev and Matt at college in Orem, while Lewis has a shelter on the outskirts of Aspen Hill where he’s prepared for just this sort of disaster. While Trev leaves for Aspen Hill immediately, Matt decides to wait a week to see if things get better. Due to Trev’s car running out of gas, followed by a minor injury, it takes him most of that week to get home.

Meanwhile Matt watches events spiral out of control in the cities and on campus around him and decides it’s time for him to leave. On the way out the door he encounters fellow classmate Sam Hutchins, who’s been unable to get back to her family in New York and is desperate to leave the city. She knows where he can find the gas to get home, and he agrees to take her with him.

Back home they find Aspen Hill facing the problem of refugees sent their way that the town doesn’t have the means to support. The townspeople reluctantly agree to turn the refugees away. Meanwhile Matt is worried for his sister April and her family living up in Midvale who might also be refugees. He convinces Trev to help him go find them and bring them back to Aspen Hill, and the two set off on foot.

After encountering significant hardship and witnessing disturbing violence and signs of society collapsing around them, they reach Midvale to find that April’s family has been moved to a nearby refugee camp. They manage to find them there, and with some effort bring them safely home.

While they were gone the Federal Emergency Task Force, or FETF, has rolled into town with a truck of supplies and a squad of soldiers under the command of Riley Ferris. Ferris has his own idea of how the town should run things, which includes rounding up everyone’s supplies and seeing to it that the refugee camp that’s sprung up outside of town is also provided for.

Upon returning to the shelter Trev discovers that Lewis has been caching their supplies to keep FETF from getting their hands on them. Shortly after completing their first cache Ferris and his squad show up and evict the cousins from the shelter, confiscating all their remaining supplies. Unwilling to stay in town while it remains occupied, Lewis suggests they take whatever supplies they can haul on a couple wagons and make for a hideout up in the nearby Manti-La Sal National Forest, on some land owned by the Halsson family. This concludes the events of Fuel.

Shortage begins with Matt’s family dealing with trouble in Aspen Hill from FETF, as well as from a gang operating out of the nearby refugee camp led by a psychopath named Razor. Meanwhile the cousins have made it up to the hideout and are settling in to prepare for the coming winter: hunting, fishing, and gathering as much food as possible.

Not long after the cousins arrive they witness a refugee group on the nearby Highway 31 being stalked by a group of bandits who clearly mean to attack them. Trev convinces Lewis to help the refugees and together they attack the bandits, managing to kill or drive them off. Lewis is wounded in the fight and Trev drags him back to the hideout. Meanwhile Jane Mathers, leader of the refugee group, determines the highway is no longer safe and convinces her people to take smaller backroads out of the mountains, putting them on a path towards Aspen Hill.

After weeks of struggling to feed himself and his family Matt is surprised to discover Ferris and his squad preparing to leave. The people of Aspen Hill learn that the FETF administrator has already used up all the town’s food and is taking what remains with him. His departure prompts Razor to attack the town storehouse trying to seize its supplies, killing the current Mayor in the process. Matt defends his family, including Sam, and the town, and ends up killing Razor. After that he’s assigned to lead the town’s defenders by the new Mayor, Catherine Tillman.

Winter sets in with mostly hardship and grief. Matt’s family is surviving on food from a cache Trev donated to them, living in the cousins’ abandoned shelter in their absence. During that time Matt proposes to Sam, and after a brief engagement marries her. He also encounters Jane’s refugee group, cautiously welcoming them into town and allowing them to live in the Larson house when Matt’s family moved to the shelter.

In the spring Mayor Tillman convinces Matt to seek out Trev and Lewis and see if they have any food they’d be willing to sell to a town that desperately needs it. The cousins have been surviving well in the mountains, and after a reunion they reluctantly agree to sell their cached food from the shelter, confident they’ll be able to feed themselves based on their experience at the hideout.

The town gets to work planting crops and finding ways to survive long term as spring progresses. Sam announces that she’s expecting a child, but that good news is overshadowed by disturbing reports that the Gold Bloc, a treaty of Eastern European and Asian nations that might have been responsible for the attack on the Gulf refineries in the first place, has invaded Canada and is moving to invade the weakened United States next. Trev is worried about his family, who last he’d heard were still in Michigan. They’re right in the path of the invading forces, and might have trouble getting to safety on their own.

In the meantime Ferris returns. Over the winter he’s turned his squad into a small army that’s been raiding farther north and west, and now Aspen Hill’s the next town in his path. In a tense confrontation Lewis manages to shoot Ferris, ending their planned attack. A young former soldier named Raul Gutierrez defects from the raiders and comes to Aspen Hill, hoping to make up for his crimes by defending the town. The raiders settle in for a siege, and while Lewis and Matt remain to help fight them off Trev sets off on his own on bicycle, undertaking a daunting trek to reach his family and bring them home. This concludes the events of Shortage.

Invasion begins with Aspen Hill coming under attack by the raiders. After fending them off Matt and Lewis learn that Randall Turner, formerly the contracted police officer for Aspen Hill who left with Ferris last fall, now leads the raiders. When Lewis killed Ferris he came close to killing Turner as well, and the man has a serious grudge against the town. It’s unlikely he’ll just leave.

Lewis has been patrolling with Jane, and the two have become close. Over the course of the next few attacks they decide to get married, and since neither of them is particularly outgoing they decide to have a ceremony with just them, performed by Mayor Tillman. Lewis has been pushing for Aspen Hill’s defenders to attack the raider camps to take pressure off the besieged town, and he finally convinces Matt and the Mayor to agree to it. He and Jane stage an attack on one camp, a diversion, while Matt leads a larger attack on the opposite camp.

The attack goes badly. Several people in Matt’s team die, and his friend Chauncey Watson loses most of his leg to amputation. Furthermore the attack enrages Turner, who begins using missile launchers to bombard the town. He gives them an ultimatum to surrender. Instead Lewis plans another attack, this one successful, and the defenders wipe out the raiders completely.

Meanwhile Trev has been making his exhausting and dangerous trek to Michigan. Among the troubles he encounters along the way he finds a place called Newtown that’s been built up around several massive grain silos. The town has enough food to feed themselves and anyone who comes to trade with them, and Trev is able to purchase supplies. He also remembers the place as a potential source of supplies for his family on the way back, as well as for Aspen Hill if they can find some way to travel hundreds of miles to get it.

As he gets closer to Michigan he discovers that people are fleeing south and the Gold Bloc invasion has already begun. Traveling carefully to evade capture by the enemy soldiers, who people are pejoratively calling blockheads, he manages to reach his family’s home. He finds them already gone, although they left behind a cryptic message that only he’d be able to understand. They’re headed for Aspen Hill, and promise to leave regular markers so he can follow them if he comes.

Trev follows the markers, only to find that they soon stop. After a brief search he makes camp, despairing about what might’ve happened to his family. In the night a blockhead patrol, also following the markers, captures him. He’s taken to a prison camp on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where hundreds of thousands of captured Americans are being held.

There he receives a complete shock as he’s being taken into the camp. His uncle Lucas Halsson, Lewis’s dad, is the one who processes him. Lucas, his wife Eva, and their daughter Mary had been in Norway on sabbatical, getting in touch with their roots, when the Gulf burned. Lucas managed to talk his way into a position in logistics for the Gold Bloc military, and managed to get his family back to the United States traveling with the invading army.

With his uncle’s help Trev is able to reunite with his family inside the camp. He’s relieved to find that his mom and dad, Clair and George, and his siblings Linda and Jim are unhurt, although worried about their situation. Lucas can’t pull any strings to get them out, so while they try to figure out what to do they wait as patiently as they can.

Then comes the Retaliation.

What remains of the United States government had been negotiating with the Gold Bloc this entire time, warning them that if they invaded the US would deploy its nuclear arsenal against targets in all Gold Bloc nations. The Gold Bloc perceived it as a bluff and ignored the warning and a final ultimatum, and nukes fly.

One of those nukes lands on a blockhead military camp not far north of the prisoner camp Trev and his family are in. He sees the mushroom cloud with his own eyes, and realizes they’re in the fallout zone. In the resulting chaos Trev’s family manages to escape the camp. Rather than mindlessly fleeing, however, they’re able to steal a blockhead truck and drive west along the Upper Peninsula headed for home.

Back in Aspen Hill Matt and Lewis are shaken by the news of nuclear war obliterating over a billion lives in a matter of hours, with an even greater death toll to follow. Lewis is confident the town is out of the way of any fallout from the Gold Bloc’s retaliatory nuclear strikes, but they face the specter of nuclear winter, and the surviving blockheads are continuing to invade the United States. This concludes the events of Invasion.

Reclamation begins with Trev and his family on their way back to Aspen Hill, expecting to be there in a matter of days. Along with taking the truck they took enough fuel to get them the whole way. However, Trev suggests that since they have a vehicle capable of carrying a lot of supplies, they should stop in Newtown to fill it up with grain Aspen Hill desperately needs. In spite of the risk the family agrees, and Newtown’s Sheriff, Fred Vernon, welcomes them in and arranges for them to get everything they’re looking for, paid for by a few one-ounce gold coins Lucas carried with him.

It turns out to be a trick. Vernon and several of his deputies rob the family at gunpoint and steal the truck, using it to flee south from the approaching blockheads. The family is left to purchase a few handcarts and wagons and continue towards home on foot, despairing of getting there anytime soon, if they make it there at all. Newtown’s residents, including a woman named Deb Rutledge who Trev befriends, decide they have no option but to pack up and head south on foot following Vernon.

After days of wearily slogging towards home Trev’s family sees an approaching convoy. It turns out to be United States military, and a sergeant named Ethan Davis invites the family to join his squad in their truck, packing their supplies in the foot space and atop benches and strapping one of the handcarts to the back. With this stroke of good luck they’re able to make it most of the way back home, dropped off less than a day’s walk from Aspen Hill.

Meanwhile Lewis has been tending the garden he and Trev planted, and he and Matt go after a stray herd of sheep and manage to capture it, gaining the town some much-needed livestock. On the way back with the herd he spots a beehive, and resolves to come back later to harvest its honey.

Lewis is overjoyed to find that not only has his cousin managed to return with his family, but that his own parents and sister are with them. During the joyous reunion he introduces his new wife, Jane, who’s welcomed into the family. Matt’s family, Jane’s refugee group, and the Halsson and Smith families are all living at the shelter, and they turn their focus to surviving and prospering long term.

The peace doesn’t last long. When Trev and Lewis go for the beehive Lewis spotted they encounter a scouting patrol from the US military led by Corporal Kyle Williams. Williams brings news that the military is gathering as many refugees as they can in the Utah and Colorado Rockies, intending to make a last stand there and hold the blockheads back. He’s recruiting any volunteers willing to join the fight.

After some agonizing Matt and Trev lead two squads of Aspen Hill volunteers south to Huntington along Highway 31, while Lewis remains behind leading the town’s defenders in Matt’s absence. Outside Huntington Trev meets Sergeant Davis again, who’s been assigned to hold the highway where it enters the mountains a short ways northwest of the town. Corporal Williams is also assigned there, and with the Aspen Hill volunteers and a number of new recruits they’re responsible for holding back any attack that comes their way.

While guarding a canyon a short ways north of Highway 31 Trev’s squad ambushes a blockhead truck rolling up the road past their position. It turns out to be Fred Vernon and his men, who’ve managed to escape the mess to the south and have come to to join the fight. Trev protests that the man is a thief and abandoned the people he was responsible for, but Davis chooses to recruit them anyway.

The Gold Bloc attack finally comes, as they watch tens of thousands of soldiers poor into the area around Huntington. Meanwhile Aspen Hill receives enough warning to evacuate up Aspen Hill Canyon into the mountains west of them, following the plan Lewis had drawn up for the eventuality. They’re grieved about losing their town, especially when they watch enemy soldiers roll in and occupy it.

The blockheads attack along Highway 31, only to be turned back by a set demolition that drops a rocky hillside onto the road, leaving it impassable. After a fierce firefight they retreat to Huntington to dig in and hold the area, searching for alternate roads up into the mountains. One of those roads is up Aspen Hill Canyon. Lewis has been given the detonator for another rigged demolition that will drop a cliff on the road, destroying it, but he wants to do as much damage as he can before doing so. When blockhead scouts come up the canyon he ambushes them and wipes out their patrol, which is enough of a warning to get them to leave the canyon alone for now.

The people of Newtown fleeing south have received news of another Gold Bloc invasion force coming north from Mexico. Stuck between two fronts they had no choice but to split up into smaller groups and try to hide from blockhead patrols until they could find a safe place to go. In spite of Deb’s best efforts her group, exhausted and harried, are captured. This concludes the events of Reclamation.

Determination begins with Lewis leading a night raid on his own shelter, which the blockheads have occupied as a patrol post. He manages to kill dozens of them and steal several trucks full of supplies, which he brings back to the temporary camp the Aspen Hill residents have set up in the mountains. He brings some of those supplies down to the volunteers along Highway 31.

Matt has been assigned to guard a hillside south of 31, as well as do what hunting he can to feed his people and the main camp. He ambushes a squad of blockhead scouts and takes several prisoners. In the process he has a minor confrontation with his friend Pete Childress, who shoots a few of the enemy who are fleeing and surrendering. The young man is reassigned to camp, and eventually deserts and disappears.

Trev and his squad start out training recruits to get them ready to fight, but they’re soon reassigned to patrol north of the highway, near where Vernon and his men are guarding the same canyon where Trev first ambushed them. The two groups have minor clashes, which come to a head when Trev leads a failed ambush against a blockhead patrol and loses several people, and Vernon refuses to come to his aid.

Meanwhile Lewis has been leading several attacks against the blockheads occupying Aspen Hill, and has fended off a few attacks as well. Disaster strikes when the enemy feints an attack up Aspen Hill Canyon. When Lewis takes a team in a truck to hold them back they’re ambushed by a small group of elite enemy soldiers who target the truck with a rocket-propelled grenade. Lewis manages to avoid the strike by veering the truck off the road, but in the crash Mayor Tillman’s son-in-law is killed and Lucas suffers a broken leg. In the aftermath the Mayor calls Matt back home to assist her running the town, while Lewis blows up the road leading up the canyon and takes reinforcement volunteers south to help Trev and the others along Highway 31.

After a brief period of fighting the blockheads capture Corporal Williams and two of his men and stake them up within view of Davis’s people to die slowly. Lewis had been planning a raid on the nearby blockhead camp to destroy their armory, and at this provocation decides to go that night. He and a small team including Trev manage to sneak in, but Trev is separated from them and forced to flee to a structure in the middle of the camp.

There he discovers hundreds of blockhead prisoners, captured US citizens who were being used as slave labor and brutally mistreated. Among them is Deb, barely recognizable after her ordeal. Against Lewis’s objections Trev resolves to help the prisoners escape if possible. With the help of Davis and others in the military providing distractions they manage to get the prisoners to safety, although many are killed in the escape. Vernon comes to their aid, prompting a reluctant reconciliation between the two groups.

The fighting intensifies over the next couple weeks, and news reaches them that Canada is resisting Gold Bloc occupation, largely motivated by the enemy’s mistreatment of prisoners. With their supply line disrupted the blockheads become even more desperate, and there’s some hope that if the US forces can hold out a bit longer the enemy will leave. Many of the freed prisoners volunteer to join the fighting, including Deb, who joins Trev’s squad.

In one final attack the Gold Bloc forces hit the US forces in the mountains from all sides. The fighting is brutal, but Aspen Hill’s volunteers south of Highway 31 manage to eliminate hundreds of enemy soldiers by using Lewis’s plan to lure them into a landslide that engulfs the entire hillside. After that the enemy doesn’t send much more their way. Following a brutal day of fighting the blockheads are finally turned back on all fronts, and they pull out of the area and retreat back to their territory with the US military in close pursuit.

Trev, Lewis, and their volunteers return home with Deb, Trent Lincoln, and a few other volunteers who were part of their squads and have nowhere else to go. The town has relocated to a valley farther west in the mountains and are digging in to prepare for the nuclear winter that will soon be upon them. A wounded Pete Childress is found by a military convoy heading east to continue the fight against the blockheads, and is invited to enlist. This concludes the events of Determination and the Best Laid Plans series. First Winter begins soon after and continues the story.

Dramatis Personae: Since there’s a large and well established body of characters from the Best Laid Plans series, for those who’d like a reference on the ones who’ll be prominent in the Nuclear Winter series a Dramatis Personae has been included at the back of the book.

Prologue

Pipe Dreams

The hideout had been ransacked.

Trev supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Sure, it was fairly well hidden from anyone on Highway 31 or any of the dirt logging roads that crisscrossed the mountainside, and they’d determined for themselves last fall that anyone on the opposite mountainside would have a tough time picking it out, even with binoculars. You’d have to blaze an uncomfortable trail off the beaten path to get to where you could see it clearly.

At the same time, the small structure was only a few hundred yards upslope of the highway, and there had been a lot of people passing by down there recently. You had to cross Huntington Creek to get up that slope, sure, but that wasn’t the most insurmountable barrier. Especially where refugees and possibly even soldiers might break away from the crowd to hunt and forage, or even fish the creek.

He looked around the tiny room where he’d spent the last winter with his cousin Lewis. It was completely bare, aside from a few stray bits of rubbish not even desperate scavengers had deemed worth taking. There weren’t too many signs of vandalism, at least, aside from where the hasp on the door’s padlock had been torn free of the frame. Whoever had come through here had obviously either had enough respect for the space to leave it alone, even if they were stealing from it, or they’d been in too much of a hurry for wanton destruction.

But the biggest relief was that the small wood burning stove was still there, although slightly moved from its usual place. As if the looters had tested its weight before deciding it was too much to bring with them.

Actually, if the looters had to leave one thing behind out of everything they’d taken, the stove was what Trev had desperately hoped would still be here. It was a miracle that it was.

One of the main reasons he’d come up to the hideout with Lewis and Jane, aside from to check on its condition and do some hunting and fishing, was to make sure that small but heavy hunk of cast iron hadn’t been stolen. With nuclear winter approaching it was practically worth its weight in gold.

Especially since Lewis was making this trip largely as a favor to Trev. Specifically for Trev and his mom Clair, dad George, and siblings Linda and Jim. The Halsson cabin where Lewis and Jane, their sister Mary, and their mom and dad Lucas and Eva lived already had the larger, nicer stove Lewis had brought from the shelter, so this one would be going into the Smith family’s cabin.

That was a huge deal. Thanks largely to Lewis’s preparations both cabins already had carpet, windows, decent furnishings, and even efficient lighting from strings of LED Christmas lights, and limited power to recharge small devices and even watch the occasional movie on a projector. Those were all luxuries in new Aspen Hill, which was building itself from the ground up as people forced to flee their homes struggled simply to put roofs over their heads and scrabble for the bare necessities.

Facing the prospect of brutal temperatures to come, Trev was once again grateful his cousin seemed to have planned for every potential need. The most noticeable part of that planning was how Lewis had provided enough electricity for their two families, using a system of solar panels and car batteries he’d set up in the shelter, augmented by what he’d scavenged from road signs up around the hideout last fall and winter. Sure, it wasn’t enough to reliably produce heat except in emergencies, especially when winter days were so much shorter and less bright, but the use they got out of it made all the difference.

Although even electric lighting paled in comparison to this stove. Darkness was unpleasant, but without a reliable way to heat their home survival would’ve been a serious issue. Now though, between the solar electricity and these stoves they’d be as well off as could be hoped for this winter.

At least where lighting and heating was concerned. Food was still a critical problem, which was why even though the priority for this trip was to take the stove back to their newly relocated town, using the bike trailer they’d brought if it could handle the weight, so much the better if they also managed to bag some game, fish, and forage.

During the fight against the Gold Bloc invaders the military had “requisitioned” just about all the town’s supplies. Sure, they’d also promised to include the town in any redistribution of supplies down the line, but Aspen Hill had firsthand experience with how that sort of thing usually went so they weren’t holding their breath.

Most of them would be more than happy if the military just didn’t come back at all, rather than coming around looking for more supplies. Trev knew they owed their lives to the brave soldiers who’d fought off the blockheads, and the military was being fair about keeping the civilian refugees in their care fed as well as their own people. Still, it wouldn’t matter much that the Gold Bloc had retreated if everyone in Aspen Hill ended up starving over the winter anyway.

But that was a problem for another day. For now there was the work they’d come up to the hideout to do.

Trev had assumed they’d immediately get started removing the stove and pipes and loading them onto the trailer, then see how much weight the trailer could still hold and how much time they had to look for food. But his cousin seemed to have other ideas.

“Hey listen,” Lewis said in a low voice, pulling Trev out of earshot of where Jane was inspecting the stove’s interior. “You’re okay with doing some fishing on your own, right? A chance to relax?”

“Um, sure,” Trev said slowly, shooting his cousin a confused look.

“Awesome. So maybe if you wanted to take your time, stay down there for an hour or so…”

Trev got the hint. Their families were packed into two small cabins holding five people each, which didn’t leave a lot of chances for real privacy. The hideout might’ve been stripped bare, but it still had the wood burning stove and a door that shut. Practically a honeymoon suite compared to what they were used to.

“Gotcha,” he said, doing his best to hide his amusement. “See you in a few. And if you find the time, maybe you can also manage to bring down some game.”

Lewis looked up at the sky, where the sun was still barely past noon. Although it looked as if it would soon be obscured by a brooding bank of clouds coming in from the north. “We’ve got time. I for one love it up here, so I’m in no hurry to leave.”

“Yeah well you’re not in charge of the town’s defenses,” Trev replied wryly. He waved to show he was just kidding and started downhill across the gentle meadow in front of the hideout, towards the cliffs a hundred or so yards away that overlooked the mountainside leading down to Huntington Creek.

That terrain below the cliffs that was anything but gentle, incredibly steep and choked with deadfall, underbrush, and treacherous patches where pine needles and other detritus had piled up over damp clay-rich ground to make for easy slipping. The only way to get down to that slope from above the cliffs, without walking over half a mile in either direction or attempting a somewhat dangerous climb, was a single gap that still required some climbing. Nothing too difficult or dangerous, but care was needed.

Trev picked his way down through the gap and to the unkempt path leading down to the river. The air was surprisingly chilly considering it was August, and a stiff wind sent wisps of clouds scudding across the sky ahead of the dark bank that had now covered the sun.

The cold didn’t stop squirrels from chittering as he passed, along with the flash of one or two other small animals in the underbrush. Nothing worth unslinging his AK-47 to take a shot at, and anyway he was here to fish. After all, if he was going to lug his pole all the way up here on his bike he wanted to get some use out of it.

Since the hideout had been ransacked he was glad he’d brought most of his stuff back to Aspen Hill last spring, instead of leaving the fishing pole and a few other things like he’d been tempted to do. Fishing was possible with some line and hooks, and you could always rig up a crude pole if you had to, but having a proper one was infinitely better.

Or at least it should’ve been. He set up at the usual spot where he’d had plenty of success last winter, a bend where the creek slowed and large Douglas fir trees shaded the water. There was even a log that made a comfortable spot to sit if he wanted. He cast a dozen or times, using the familiar techniques he’d first been taught by his uncle Lucas as a kid with all the patience required for proper fishing. In that time he didn’t get a single bite.

After about an hour with no success Trev tried moving, then after a half hour moving again. He used all the tricks Lucas had ever taught him, searched for all the spots trout would be most likely to lurk. He even tried climbing onto a dead tree that leaned over the creek, looking down to see if he could see any shadowy shapes in the clear water.

Nothing. This was a drastic change from last fall, when almost nobody had been up here and the creek was teeming with fish that practically leapt onto the hook. A few hundred thousand refugees seemed to have taken care of that, fishing up and down Huntington Creek and doubtless along all the nearby lakes and reservoirs too. The few trout that remained would be small and wary, or old and cunning.

It wasn’t a complete waste of time, at least. Using every trick in the book he managed to hook three smallish trout. If this had been a leisurely fishing vacation from before the Gulf burned that wouldn’t have been too bad, but considering the urgent need to gather food for what was going to be a long winter it felt like nothing.

He was almost relieved when he heard a gunshot echo from the mountainside up above. Unless those two were really getting creative, that probably meant they were ready for him to come back up. And since it was Lewis and Jane, a shot fired probably meant they’d had better luck than him and had bagged some game.

Trev gathered up his stuff and started up the treacherous slope, feeling almost embarrassed about the fish on his line: not even enough for dinner for his family tonight. At least he’d be bringing home a stove to cook them on.

He reached the cliffs without incident and was most of the way up the gap, reaching up to grip the top and climb over, when the muted murmur of voices made him freeze. After a moment he lifted his head and saw Lewis and Jane standing on a rock outcropping not far away, staring up the clearing at the hideout. Lewis had his arms wrapped around his wife from behind, and Jane was leaning back against him with her head tucked under his chin.

The two weren’t exactly shy about public intimacy, but even so Trev had the uncomfortable feeling he was interrupting a moment. He hesitated, trying to decide whether to let them know he was there or try to climb back down the gap. He wasn’t sure he could do it quietly, and definitely not quickly or easily. The two could look over and see him at any time, which would just make the scene even more awkward.

During his hesitation Jane spoke up, voice barely carrying to him. “I guess it was always a pipe dream, wasn’t it?”

His cousin was slow to answer. “A bit of one,” he finally admitted. “Maybe a ways off.”

She snorted. “When could we live here? We’re staring down nuclear winter and this place was brutal for you even during a regular winter. There’s no knowing how long it’ll be before the climate goes back to normal. And even if we could survive conditions up here, we can’t leave Aspen Hill. We need our family, the community, and they need us.”

“A long ways off,” Lewis amended.

“And when we survive it all, you know we’re going to be building our life as we go. Our life with each other, with our friends and family. It’ll be harder and harder to break away. And once we’re all doing well enough that the future looks good, that’s about when we’re going to start thinking about having children. This wouldn’t be a good life for kids.”

His cousin chuckled ruefully and pulled her closer. “A vacation home, then.”

“A pipe dream,” she repeated flatly. Then she sighed and turned her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “But it was a nice one.”

Trev shifted uncomfortably, finally deciding that letting them have their moment didn’t make up for the eavesdropping. He continued his climb, trying to be extra noisy, and raised his voice. “Lewis? Jane? I figure I’ve pulled as many fish as I’m going to from the creek, which wasn’t many. If you’re done we should grab the stove and head back.”

“Over here,” Lewis called. He still had his arms wrapped around his wife, although their posture was more casual now, less intimate.

Trev made his way over to them and held up the line with its dangling fish. “Every trick I knew,” he said in disgust, “and this is it.”

“Not too surprising. With so many refugees in the area the creek’s probably being overfished from Electric Lake to Fairview.” Lewis gave him a lopsided smile. “Luckily the hunting situation’s slightly better. Sure, everyone with a gun is trying to fill their bellies, but that’s a comparatively smaller number. And it’s easier to rig up a fishing line than a weapon that can bring down big game.”

That made Trev brighten. “So you did get something? I heard the shot.”

“A cow elk,” Jane said. “Four or five years old. Although it’s a bit scrawny. Maybe too skittish with all the people around to feel safe feeding.”

“Still, it’s an elk,” Trev said. “Scrawny or not, that’ll feed a few people.” An adult elk could provide upwards of triple the meat of an adult deer, which definitely helped make this trip worth it.

Lewis nodded. “We’ve got it field dressed, but it’s in an awkward place so we need your help getting it up to the road and onto the trailer. Not to mention finding a way to make it fit.” He shook his head. “It might not, and we can’t split up the stove to carry in our packs on the ride home.”

Trev grimaced. They had tarps and plastic if they needed to quarter the carcass to go in their backpacks, but even well wrapped meat had a tendency to make a mess. He supposed the stuff in his pack was due a bit of cleaning and maintenance anyway.

But that was a decision they could make once they got the stove loaded up and had a better idea of how much more the trailer could take. After they brought the elk back to the hideout and unloaded it first to get the stove on… nothing was ever easy. Still, it was probably a bad idea to tempt fate by complaining about having food.

“Lead on,” he said.

His cousin nodded and started up the gentle meadow, past the hideout and to the steeper slope above it which lead up to the logging road where they’d left the bikes. Lewis and Jane would’ve been keeping an eye on them and the surrounding area as they hunted, but even so it was a relief to see they were still there. Including the prized bicycle trailer.

The trailer was actually an opportunity that had practically fallen into their laps. A few days ago a footsore family of refugees had come up Aspen Hill Canyon from the east, with effort navigating the blockage where the town had dropped a cliff and destroyed the road to prevent the Gold Bloc forces from ever being able to use it.

The family had started west months ago at the military’s promise of safety in the Rocky Mountains, but had been caught behind blockhead lines when the enemy did their swift push to cover the remaining distance and begin their assault. With no other choice the family had retreated to the middle of nowhere, far from any roads. Since they couldn’t know how long the blockheads would be there, or even if they’d ever leave, they’d begun settling in and preparing to stay for the long haul.

Then during a hunting trip the father had seen a US military convoy driving past. He’d taken the risk of flagging it down, desperate for news, and had learned that the Gold Bloc had retreated and the way to safety in the Utah Rockies was now clear. Rejoicing, the family had once again packed up and continued west.

Which was all to say that they’d had a bicycle and trailer to haul a good chunk of their supplies. Unfortunately the bike’s front tire had sprung a serious leak, and with no way to repair it they’d simply kept going on the rim, trying to get as far as they could. That pretty quickly destroyed the wheel, and they’d discovered that the trailer’s hitch was so short and low to the ground that trying to pull it by hand was incredibly unwieldy. They were better off just packing up the supplies and abandoning it.

The family had been all too happy to let Lewis have the trailer, if he wanted to go get it. Especially after being charitably given a modest meal to help see them on their way to the nearest refugee camp, which they were relieved to hear was only several miles west of town. They gave him directions on how to find it and how far away it was, which turned out to be less than a day’s ride there and back on a bicycle.

Lewis and Jane had immediately hopped on their bikes and made for it, dreading that someone else would grab such a useful item before they could get there.

In spite of their haste they traveled cautiously, aware that this had been blockhead territory less than a week ago. There were multiple abandoned campsites, some of them big enough to hold thousands of men, and every permanent structure they passed had been burned to the ground.

But there was an odd discrepancy between the burned buildings and the abandoned camps. In spite of the enemy’s determination to torch anything of value when they left, Lewis couldn’t help but notice that just like Davis and his soldiers, the blockheads had been in a hurry to leave and only had limited space in their vehicles. Which meant they’d left stuff behind without destroying it. Mostly junk, but some of the refuse was potentially useful: scraps of canvas or tent cloth, discarded ropes and cables, and a few other things like that.

Taking some time to scavenge the camps once they had the trailer was something to consider. In fact, it might be worth it to have the town send an expedition out, people with wagons who could really haul away enough stuff to be worthwhile.

Matt was still considering the idea, hence Lewis and Jane inviting Trev along on this current trip to the hideout to grab the stove while they waited.

As for the trailer, it had been just where the family left it, apparently untouched. The couple had brought it home filled with cloth and rope and a few other useful things from camps they’d passed, then immediately began planning what other use they could get out of it.

It was already proving a blessing on this trip, since with it they’d been able to travel the distance between the town and the hideout quickly on bicycles, and still had a means to haul the elk home. What would’ve otherwise taken days on foot pulling a wagon could be done before nightfall.

Trev hopped on his bike and followed Lewis and Jane south along the road, to the closest point to where the dressed elk waited wrapped in a tarp. It wasn’t very far, which wasn’t the problem: the problem was that it was at the bottom of the slope, so to get it up to the bikes they’d have to haul it up steep, rough terrain using brute force.

And scrawny or not, that carcass was heavy.

His cousin and Jane stood up on the road pulling on ropes, while on the hillside Trev did his best to push from below and guide the tarp-wrapped bundle over or around obstacles. It didn’t take long for him to have a new appreciation for the suffering of Sisyphus, although thankfully the elk never rolled down the hill. Although it was less than a hundred yards the task took forever, and they were all panting like bellows by the end of it.

“Think we burned more calories than we’ve got here?” Trev quipped as they loaded the bundle onto the trailer.

“Sure feels like it,” Lewis replied with a final grunt as he shoved his end into place. “But with your fish I think we still come out ahead.”

“Oh good. I was starting to feel like I wasted my time, while you two got to enjoy yourselves and ended up bagging some big game.”

His cousin grinned wide and shrugged. “Hey, if you ever want to bring Deb up here you’re…” he trailed off at Trev’s expression, and his smile faded. “Sorry, that was really tasteless.”

“Even I wouldn’t have said that,” Jane agreed.

Lewis shifted uncomfortably. “I know she went through some terrible stuff. I just figured with how much time you spend together that, you know, something was happening there.”

Trev shook off the awkward change of direction the conversation had taken. “Not really. Our relationship isn’t like that.”

At least he thought it wasn’t; Deb was still recovering after what she’d suffered at the hands of the blockheads, and it was hard to know what she felt about things. The fact that she’d basically become a second shadow, following Trev around as he carried out his duties protecting the town, suggested she might be interested in him too. Or at least she found some comfort in being around him. But he was erring way on the side of caution to avoid causing her any distress.

The brown-haired woman seemed fine with that, neither of them in a hurry to rush things.

Trev did feel a bit guilty about leaving her behind today, but he wasn’t about to put Lewis on the spot about bringing someone else along to a location his cousin was trying to keep secret. There was also the fact that Deb was at his side from sunup to sundown most days. While he welcomed her company and enjoyed being around her, a bit of a break was welcome.

Lewis and Jane seemed happy to let the discussion end on that note, and they all mounted their bikes in silence to start back down the road.

Which turned out to be a good thing, because that silence continued as they left the bikes behind and started down the hillside towards the hideout; otherwise they might’ve missed the sound of men’s voices below.

Trev froze, hand instinctively going to the MP-443 Grach holstered at his hip. The 9mm was still a bit unfamiliar after trading away his 1911, as was his new AK-47, but all the volunteers had switched to them. Not because they favored the weapons they’d scavenged from hundreds of blockheads they’d beaten on the slope south of Highway 31, but because they’d run out of ammo for their own.

He’d done enough practicing with the pistol to be confident his of his aim, but he wished he hadn’t left the AK with his bike. It was less than fifty yards behind him, but Lewis and Jane had already unslung their .308s and didn’t look in the mood to waste time turning back. There didn’t seem to be much option but to follow them and hope a pistol was enough.

They continued cautiously down the slope, Lewis altering their path to keep them behind cover but with a clear view of the hideout, where the voices were coming from, once it came in sight. They didn’t have to go far before they were able to see the intruders, four men who appeared unarmed aside from a hunting knife at one’s belt.

The looters had obviously come for the stove. They’d already removed the stovepipe and were in the process of hauling the small cast iron bulk out the narrow door, cursing at the weight and awkward grips. Not far from the hideout sat a crude sled, nothing more than a square of sheet metal with holes drilled into two corners for a loop of rope.

Lewis slung his rifle again, taking a moment to check that his 1911 in its shoulder holster was still easily accessible, then continued down the slope. Although he didn’t abandon stealth completely he moved more quickly. “Check the surrounding area while I talk to them, in case there are more,” he told them tersely. Trev and Jane both nodded without responding.

Near the bottom of the slope, a good twenty yards from where the men still struggled, Lewis paused and raised his voice. “Gentlemen!”

The four intruders dropped the stove in shock and whirled towards them, one man uttering a foul oath and grabbing his knee where the lip had banged it. Trev spared them just a moment to make sure none were producing any hidden weapons, then joined Jane in inspecting the trees and meadow around them for any potential threats.

His cousin continued in a mild tone. “That stove belongs to us.”

One of the four got over his surprise faster than the others, and even laughed. “Sorry, buddy. First rule of looting is first come, first serve.”

Trev glanced at Lewis in time to see his cousin’s eyes tighten slightly, although his tone remained mild. “No, it’s literally our property. As is the land you’re standing on.”

It was a bit surprising these men weren’t more worried about facing three armed people. Desperation, or were there more of them out there? Trev took a few steps to a better vantage point and searched the trees even harder.

The spokesman replied doubtfully. “Can you show us the title to this property? A bill of sale for this stove?”

Trev snorted in disbelief. Nobody carried those sorts of documents around with them, especially not after the world ended. He didn’t know what the guy was trying to prove. Still, if anyone could be expected to think ten steps ahead to produce what was needed on demand, it would be his cousin.

But Lewis just shook his head, also looking slightly disbelieving. “No.”

“Then possession is nine-tenths of the law.” The man dismissively turned back to the doorway. “My family needs this to survive the winter, and you lot don’t seem the murdering type. Nice talking to you, but we’ve got to get back to work.”

In spite of his feigned casualness the man jerked as much as his three companions at the sharp crack of Jane’s rifle. To be honest Trev did a bit of jumping himself. The redheaded woman had aimed for a tree well away from the intruders, but she definitely got their attention.

“I may not be the murdering type,” she said in the flat tone she often adopted for strangers, “but for thieves I’m willing to be the injuring type. That’s our property and we’re entitled to protect it.”

One of the spokesman’s companions said something to him, too quietly to be heard at this distance. The other two men were already backing away from the hideout, hands raised. Seeing it the spokesman’s shoulders slumped, defeated, and he joined the others a safe distance away. “We’ll tell the military about this.”

Lewis had looked slightly surprised by the shot as well, but now he showed no sign of it. “Please do. We have hundreds of people willing to support our claim.”

Cursing and grumbling among themselves, the intruders picked up their sled and carried it north, towards where the meadow intersected the road that led down to the bridge across Huntington Creek. Trev felt his shoulders loosening now that he was sure things had gone well for them.

“Lucky timing,” he said, joining Lewis as his cousin made his way over to the stove.

Lewis nodded. “They’re probably the ones who looted the place to begin with. I’m guessing they couldn’t take the stove right then, so just like us they planned a trip to come back for it. That explains why they had the sled, and how fast they were about removing the stovepipes and hauling it out while we were distracted with the elk. The fact that we managed to get here before they could drag it off is incredibly lucky timing.”

“If they’d come later we’d be gone with it and we wouldn’t have had to scare them off,” Trev pointed out. “So the timing could’ve been slightly luckier.”

His cousin shrugged and awkwardly climbed through the door around the stove, grabbing the far end and testing its weight. “Not as heavy as the elk… I think the two of us can get it. Those guys must’ve been weak from hunger to have so much trouble.”

Jane, warily watching the intruders leave, turned towards them at that. “If you’ve got this I’m going to follow them. Just to make sure they really leave and stay gone.”

Lewis hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. Splitting up wasn’t ideal, but his cousin was obviously even less thrilled at the thought of intruders roaming around. “Be careful,” he told his wife.

She nodded and started off, angling up the hillside where she could trail the four men out of their view, and also stay between them and the bikes on the logging road above. They certainly didn’t want those and their precious trailer stolen, either.

Trev grabbed his end of the stove, joining Lewis in hauling it out the door and walking it towards the slope. His cousin was right that it was lighter, although taking it up the mountainside was still going to be a pain.

Before they’d gone too far Lewis set his end down and moved back to the door, closing it. For a moment he agonized over the broken hasp, then he chuckled wryly and entered the padlock’s combination, pulling it free and dropping it into a pocket to take with him. “Oh well. It’s not like they can loot the place again.”

“They could burn it down,” Trev pointed out.

His cousin grimaced. “I wouldn’t mind if they did, if it meant the shelter had been spared instead.”

That wiped the smile off Trev’s face. The blockheads had burned down every structure they could when they fled, which included the underground shed Lewis had buried and outfitted for a disaster scenario.

Trev wouldn’t have expected the shelter to burn very well, but the blockheads must’ve been motivated. The heat of the fire had weakened the structure enough that the weight of the three feet of dirt it was buried beneath had collapsed it. What was left was a solid mass of twisted, melted metal and fused and blackened dirt, along with the remains of whatever debris they’d burned inside to destroy it.

Completely unsalvageable. It had taken him and his cousin hours to even dig through the mess enough to realize how complete the damage was.

Thoughts of the shelter brought to mind unpleasant reminders of other things they’d lost since the Gulf burned, but luckily hauling a large hunk of cast iron provided a good distraction; pretty soon they were working too hard hauling the weight for any more talking. They took it one careful step at a time, resting as needed, as the minutes ticked away.

Eventually Jane returned to report that the would-be looters had crossed the bridge and were well on their way north traveling on the highway. There wasn’t much she could do to help with the stove, since they weren’t about to tie ropes to it and drag it up the slope like they had the elk, and she was barely strong enough to lift one end. So she kept pace with them and watched the mountain around them for danger.

The line of iron gray clouds Trev had been eyeing for the last few hours finally rushed to cover the entire sky from horizon to horizon, bringing with them a misting rain. With his exertion the light cooling touch drifting over his face felt good at first, but then the rainfall increased to just past the point of being unpleasant.

Trev was familiar with these cold mountain drizzles, although they usually happened later in the year. Still, he could ignore the discomfort until they got this job done. And if it kept up like this he supposed they could even ride home in it.

Then he glanced across the valley to the mountain slope across the way. Through the drizzle it was a veiled gray and green blur, but his eyes tracking up to the peak saw a dusting of white, there at the very tip.

He froze lifting the back of the stove, staring. The motion didn’t disturb the front, where Lewis was focused on setting his feet for his first steps after their break, and Jane’s eyes were on the logging road above them. Neither noticed as Trev set his end down and got out his binoculars for a look.

It was definitely snow.

Trev knew the mountains at this elevation tended to be around fifteen degrees cooler than the valley during the day, with even more pronounced temperature extremes at night. Up on the peak it would be colder still. The snows always came to the mountains a month or more earlier than down below.

Even so, even on a peak… snow, in August. They were a bit past what should be the hottest part of the year, but not by much.

“Um, guys?” he said, pointing with his binoculars. “Should we be worried about that?”

He wasn’t using his “we’re in danger and I need your immediate attention” tone, so the other two didn’t immediately pick up on his worry. “You let go?” Lewis asked in annoyance as he dropped his end of the stove. “I almost fell over with this thing on top of me.”

Jane finished examining the road above and turned, eyes following Trev’s pointed binoculars. Expression tightening, she unclipped her own binoculars from her belt and raised them. She didn’t say anything, just silently handed them to Lewis as he joined her.

His cousin looked through them for a few seconds. “Huh.”

“I’d say snow in August warrants a bit more of a response than that,” Trev said.

Lewis shrugged. “It could be a fluke. The weather up here can be pretty random and show surprising extremes. I’ve seen hail coat the mountainsides during the summer months plenty of times. Usually just a short, cold squall, and then in less than an hour it’s a nice day again.”

Trev was pretty sure this wasn’t hail. But he didn’t want to say what they all had to be thinking.

Everyone was expecting nuclear winter to hit early and hard. But if it was already bearing down on them they were in real trouble.

Jane lowered her binoculars. “It’ll still be months before we see weather like this down in the new Aspen Hill valley, right?”

“Right.” Lewis smiled tightly. “No need to read more into a single event than it deserves.” He motioned to Trev. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Maybe his cousin was trying to convince himself as much as them, but the silence was different after that. More tense, as they all contemplated with dread the ordeal of the long, bitter winter looming in front of them.

The drizzle stayed steady as they manhandled the stove up to the bikes and loaded it. Their mood wasn’t helped as they determined the trailer couldn’t also handle the weight of the elk, but none of them complained as they got to work skinning and quartering the carcass under the protection of a stand of evergreens. Even with experience that wasn’t a fast process, and the foul weather kept on the entire way through, dripping cold water on their backs as they worked.

It was still drizzling when they started home. And every time Trev looked up at the peak he saw that blanket of white, spreading slowly down the slope like mold. It wasn’t just evaporating away the way hail did.

Even if it was a fluke, even if they still had time, it was an unpleasant reminder of just how far they were from being prepared. Assuming it was even possible to fully prepare for a nuclear winter that could last twice as long as normal.

On the plus side, at least his family had a proper stove now.

Chapter One

New Arrivals

Matt couldn’t help but notice the woman sitting crosslegged where the road leading through the valley turned off onto the newly laid gravel path that led to new Aspen Hill. He could’ve sworn Trev had told him he might be gone overnight, and if his friend told him he definitely would’ve told her, but there she was anyway.

In her mid 20s, nearly a head shorter than Matt with shoulder length brown hair and dark green eyes flecked with brown, Debra Rutledge had stuck pretty close by Trev’s side in the eight days since the volunteers had returned from the fighting down at Highway 31’s canyon, after they’d helped the military send the Gold Bloc forces packing. Hopefully for good.

Matt supposed a bit of clinginess was understandable, since his friend was one of the few people she knew and trusted in town. She’d told Matt a bit about herself the few times they’d talked, but most of what he knew of her story came from Trev.

It wasn’t a happy tale. She and his friend had originally met in Newtown last spring, when Trev had stopped at the trading post to buy supplies on his way to Michigan to find his family.

Trev had met her again on the way back to Utah with his family, although that hadn’t been quite as enjoyable a meeting; Newtown’s sheriff, Fred Vernon, had stolen Trev’s family’s truck, along with a lot of the town’s weapons and supplies, and he and a bunch of Newtown’s defenders had driven off and abandoned the town.

According to Deb, after that the citizens of Newtown had been forced to flee south to escape the blockhead invasion coming from the north. Only they’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire, running smack dab into another enemy invasion front coming up from Mexico. They’d found themselves trapped in the middle of nowhere, with enemies ahead and behind.

The Newtown citizens had split up into smaller groups to try to avoid detection, but Deb had been captured along with the rest of her group. In typical fashion the blockheads had only taken the young, healthy men and women and left the elderly and children to fend for themselves. That was a small mercy, since reports indicated the enemy was just as likely to execute anyone they didn’t take prisoner.

Deb had been brutally mistreated in the blockhead camp, to the point that when Trev found her about a month ago she’d been gaunt and nearly too weak to run for freedom with the other prisoners.

Physically she’d almost completely recovered since then, regaining her health and youthful appearance. But she still wasn’t quite the carefree, friendly woman Trev had talked about meeting in Newtown. After her ordeal, perhaps she never would be. That was reflected in her decision to join the volunteers after gaining her freedom, learning how to shoot and work with fellow soldiers so she could be part of the fight against the blockheads.

After hearing a report on the work she’d put in Trev had invited her to join his squad. Then, after the Gold Bloc’s final attack along all fronts surrounding the southern Utah Rockies had been pushed back, and the enemy had left for good, Trev invited her and the other freed prisoners who’d fought beside the Aspen Hill volunteers to come home with them.

And here she was. Matt could tell that whatever she’d suffered, and however her experiences had changed her, she still tried her best to return to the the woman she’d been before her capture. He wished her the best in it.

Still, it was a bit concerning to see her waiting around for Trev to get back when he could be gone for hours or even longer. And just how long had she been sitting there in the first place? She looked damp enough that she’d probably been out in the brief drizzle of rain that had passed over the valley earlier, and the fact that she hadn’t sought shelter from it was also concerning.

He abandoned his plans to talk to Chauncey about getting in contact with the nearby towns to share information, at least for a few minutes, and made his way down the path towards her, calling a greeting.

At his approach Deb pushed to her feet and waved. “Hey Matt. You here to wait for the cousins and Jane to get back from their secret adventure, too?”

The words were playful, but Matt caught the slightest edge to her tone. He’d been there when his friends left, and seen how desperate Deb was to go with them. But the hideout was Lewis’s secret to share, and his friend was very careful about keeping it that way. It wasn’t an issue of trust, just caution about not letting too many people know its location, and she’d been gently but firmly turned back.

“Nah, they’ll get back when they get back,” he replied, coming to stand beside her looking west, although the slope of the valley they were in blocked his view of the peaks their friends had traveled to. “Actually I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Sam’s been doing her best to help Terry, but she’s nearly seven months along and getting to the point where the work takes a lot out of her. I’d really appreciate it if you could give her a hand.”

Deb smiled wryly. “Why do I get the feeling you’re worried about the fact that I’m just sitting out here in the rain like a lost puppy, so you’re trying to give me something to do?” Matt opened his mouth, working for some sort of response, and her smile widened slightly. “I appreciate it. Give me a bit longer and I’ll go make myself useful.”

“Sure.” Matt turned to leave.

Deb called him back. “Hey, what was the deal with that guy who went into town?”

This was the first he was hearing of anything like that. He turned around. “Huh?”

The brown-haired woman pointed vaguely. “Some middle aged man headed into town just a few minutes ago.” She patted the pistol holstered at her hip. “Seemed pretty tense, maybe even a bit suspicious, so I stared him down and he gave me a wide berth as he passed. If Trev was here he’d probably want to keep an eye on him, see what his deal was.”

Matt fought down his irritation. She thought there was at least some cause for concern but she was still just sitting here? “Okay I’ll go check it out,” he said, starting down the path at a trot.

Now that he was aware to be looking, it didn’t take long for Matt to spot the newcomer heading down new Aspen Hill’s “Main Street”. Right now that was just a continuation of the gravel path leading south into town from the road, running between the thickest cluster of stick-and-mud houses and log cabins. Matt didn’t know how he’d missed the man, unless the guy had stopped for a rest while he was on his way out to talk to Deb.

Like she’d claimed the newcomer was older, in his late 40s or early 50s. Maybe even 60s… he had the look of someone who’d spent his life taking good care of his health.

Although if his physical health was good, his emotional health was a bit frayed at the moment. Deb had also been right that he looked incredibly nervous, eyes darting from person to person on the street and hand clutching the revolver holstered at his waist as he walked farther into town. For their part the townspeople were looking a bit skittish too about an armed stranger giving them the stink eye. Their relief when they saw Matt coming to sort out the situation was palpable.

The man turned at Matt’s approach and their eyes met. Matt gave him a friendly wave and kept coming, hands well away from his own 1911 at his hip. “Hey there, welcome to Aspen Hill.”

“I’m here, then?” the man asked, looking a bit relieved but still nervous. “I’ve been trying approach people to ask, but they’re all looking at me like I’m a rattlesnake coiled to bite so I’ve kept my distance. Not a very friendly place.”

Matt looked pointedly at the man’s hand still on the revolver. “Funny thing. You see a strange man skulking up the street, clutching a pistol and looking like he’ll lose it and start shooting passersby at a sneeze, and it might make people antsy.”

The newcomer glanced down at his hand, then flushed and snatched it away, tucking it into his pocket. “It would, I guess,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. There’s just so many—” he cut off and lowered his voice. “That is, everyone here is armed.”

“With good reason, given everything that’s happened,” Matt replied. “Don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. It’s just in the refugee camps you didn’t see many weapons. And before the Gulf burned, a town full of people carrying openly would’ve been blasted in the media as a bunch of nutjobs. I suppose my mind’s stuck in old patterns.” A brief look of pain crossed the man’s features. “Not to mention I’ve got my own reasons to be antsy around armed strangers, given everything that’s happened.”

“Sure. But I’d say you’ll never be safer than in a town full of good people, most of them armed and ready to defend themselves.” Matt held out his hand. “Matt Larson, Mayor.” It still felt weird to call himself that.

“Mayor, eh? Quite the welcome wagon.” The man removed his hand from his pocket and shook firmly, his nervousness rapidly fading and replaced by a determined look. “Thomas Lincoln.”

Matt hadn’t expected to know the stranger, so the name made him jump slightly; not only did he know the man, but he’d been expecting him. “Trent’s dad!” he said, his smile warming as his handshake became more enthusiastic. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Thomas looked relieved. “You know my son, then. Were you with him fighting the blockheads?”

“Briefly, before I was called back up to help in Aspen Hill. He was in the squad led by my friend Trevor Smith at another location, so I didn’t have many chances to talk to him. But from what I’ve been told he was one of the more dependable and competent men on the squad, and everything I’ve seen of him since he moved here has proven that.”

The man looked pleased at the praise. “He sent word to our family in the camps, told us Aspen Hill was willing to welcome us in. He was going to stay here and start building a home for us when he arrived, although he told us to send for him if we thought we needed his help making the trip.”

Matt’s smile widened. “Well speaking as the man who extended that invitation, you certainly are welcome.” He turned and pointed down the street. “See that log cabin going up at the end? Your son wanted you all to have a proper home, more than a stick-and-mud dugout. We’re all a bit busy at the moment, but we’ve been helping him when we find the time.”

“I appreciate that.”

The older man sounded sincere, but Matt couldn’t help but feel the weight of a half-finished cabin with a family ready to move in. He shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Since you’re here already I’ll try to gather some men who can find the time sooner, rather than later.”

“That would be a great kindness.” Thomas glanced back at the western ridge overlooking the valley. “I left my family behind, just so I could check this place out and make sure it was where we were going.” He looked a bit sheepish himself as he smiled good-naturedly. “And not full of nutjobs.”

Matt laughed. “Go get them while I run and tell Trent the good news. He’ll want to meet you coming in.”

The older man nodded and hurried back down the trail, edging warily around Deb at its junction to the road. The woman eyed him with equal wariness as he passed. Shaking his head, Matt started down the road for the Lincolns’ half finished cabin.

He was so preoccupied with the good news for Trent that he barely noticed the medium height, solidly built man approaching until he stepped in front of him. “Hey Matt. Got a minute?”

“Of course!” Matt said, grinning and clapping his friend on the shoulder. He’d been so busy with his duties to the town that he’d barely seen the man. “How’ve you been since you got back, Raul?”

Gutierrez grimaced. “Could be better, actually. I’ve slept in my tent the entire time. All the other volunteers had friends and family to take them in, and Trev even made sure the freed prisoners had a place to stay. Nobody’s given me anything to do, so I’ve just been helping out where I can.”

This news filled Matt with genuine dismay. However busy being Mayor kept him, that was no excuse for forgetting friends. Especially someone he and everyone else in town owed a huge debt to.

Raul Gutierrez had been with the squad under FETF Administrator Riley Ferris shortly after the Gulf burned last fall, when the relief organization’s representative had come to take over management of Aspen Hill. The young soldier had left with Ferris about a month later, only to come back next spring with the former administrator and a much larger group of well armed men, who’d turned to banditry over the winter.

Led by his conscience, Gutierrez had defected from the raiders almost immediately after their arrival and asked Aspen Hill to take him in. Matt had supported the idea, in spite of a lot of doubt from townspeople and defenders, and at his insistence they’d given the former soldier a chance to prove himself.

And Gutierrez had. First against the brutal raiders he’d deserted then fought, then against the blockheads when Aspen Hill sent volunteers south to help the military, and in every other way the town needed him.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Matt demanded. “You would’ve been welcome with my family until we could find a more permanent arrangement.”

His friend grimaced. “Your family’s already more than overcrowded, and so is everyone else I would’ve thought to ask. As for coming to you, the few times I’ve seen you you’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off, more things to do than you have hours in the day to do them. Besides, I didn’t want to ask you in your capacity as Mayor and risk you being accused of favoritism.”

“Favoritism nothing,” Matt snapped. “You risked your life for this town, the least we could do is put a roof over your head.” He took the man by the shoulder and started leading him between houses towards the large tent that served as town hall, a temporary detour before settling in the newly arrived Lincolns. “Come on, let’s put you on the list of people needing a house.”

Gutierrez jerked to a halt, expression frustrated. “I’m already on that list, man! At the very, very end of it. Last in line.”

Matt shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It’s the protocol you and former Mayor Tillman set up. Houses are given out to those who need them most in descending order. Orphaned children first, then widows with children, then groups of widows, then single women without families, and so on.” His friend gave him a slightly bitter smile. “All the way down to young, healthy former soldiers with the skills to provide for themselves and decent supplies.”

That, unfortunately, sounded about right. “Well we’ll find someone to take you in,” Matt insisted, reaching for the man’s shoulder again. “Come on.”

Gutierrez refused to budge. “That’s not why I’m here. I’ve already planned out my own house and started work on it. I know you’re busy, but I just wondered if I could get your help for a few hours to do the stuff I can’t do alone.”

Matt winced. A personal favor was almost more awkward than if Gutierrez had asked the town. “Oh. I’d love to help if you’ll give me a few days. Right now me and a few others are spending every moment of our spare time helping Trent Lincoln build his house.”

His friend’s face went carefully blank. “Trent.”

The complete lack of accusation made Matt hunch his shoulders defensively. “He called for his family to come here from the refugee camps. Actually I was just on my way to tell him that they’ve arrived, and we still need to get a roof over their heads.”

Gutierrez’s bitter expression faded. He almost looked… defeated. “I get it,” he said heavily. “I’m alone, and I can help myself, so I’ll obviously never qualify for help from the town. Or from my friends.” He turned and quickly strode away, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“Raul!” Matt said in frustration, starting after his friend.

The former soldier seemed to sense it. He turned sharply and held out a hand. “Don’t worry about it! You’re the Mayor, you’ve got plenty of important stuff to do. I get it.”

Matt swore as the man disappeared down the street. It was just a few hours, to patch a rift of neglect he hadn’t even realized was there. Why hadn’t Gutierrez just said something instead of throwing a hissy fit?

Maybe because he’d already tried every other option, and when he finally tried coming to his friends for help Matt had practically treated him like a mooch. Guilt ate away most of his anger, and with renewed determination he made his way over to where the Lincolns’ house was going up.

He’d sort things out with Gutierrez, but first things first.

Trent was hard at work as usual. With Lewis and Trev, the two who usually helped, gone to their hideout he was focusing on doing tasks he could handle on his own, preparing for when more help was available so he didn’t waste their time. Matt imagined Gutierrez had done the same.

As Matt approached the former volunteer finished notching the log he was working on and set aside his axe, sweat streaming down his face in spite of the cool post-rain air. “Just in time,” he said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “I’ve got a few that can go up before I head out to chop down more trees.” He pointed to a small pile of notched logs ready to be fitted into place in the cabin’s walls.

“Save that,” Matt said, managing a grin in spite of his worries about his other friend. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“After all the help you’ve given me?” Trent immediately went to retrieve his gun belt, starting to settle his MP-443 Grach on his hip, but Matt waved him off.

“You won’t need it.”

The man grinned and pointedly finished cinching the buckle, then slung his rifle and pack over his shoulders. “No offense to the town, I know you guys’ve done a great job with crime, but I still don’t feel comfortable risking any of this stuff out of my sight.”

Fair enough. Living with his family there was always someone around to watch their things while Matt was gone, so he hadn’t really considered what it was like to live alone. Thankfully Trent no longer had to worry about that.

Matt led the way back down the path, Trent keeping pace beside him. “So what was it you needed?” the man asked politely.

“You’ll see soon. It’s just outside town.” Matt pointed up the western slope.

Trent followed his finger, frowning. “Is that Trev, Lewis, and Jane coming back from their trip? They went after a stove, right?” Having leapt to that assumption, his confusion cleared. “I can help them get that installed no problem. We put up a stove in our new house a few years back.”

Sure enough three people on bikes were winding their way down the slope on the muddy dirt road, one towing a heavily loaded trailer and all moving cautiously with heavy packs on their backs.

So his friends were finally back; Deb would be happy about that. And sure enough, he could see her at her waiting spot on her feet and waving excitedly.

“Actually that wasn’t it,” Matt said. He pointed higher, to the larger group of people on foot that had just appeared over the ridge. He let his smile widen. “You’ve got visitors.”

Trent stiffened like he’d been struck by lightning, fumbling with his pack to retrieve his binoculars. “Is that…?” He brought them to his eyes and looked through them for a second, then returned Matt’s grin and clapped him on the shoulder before bolting off down the street, calling behind him. “Thanks!”

Matt followed at a slower pace to meet his returning friends before greeting the new arrivals. By the time he reached Deb the three had already pulled their bikes to a stop and Trev was going over their trip with the brown-haired woman. They all waved at Trent as he ran past, Lewis calling a question that the man ignored, so with shrugs they let him go.

“How’d it go?” Matt asked his friends when he reached them. He glanced at the bike trailer, relieved to see that they’d managed to bring back the stove like they’d planned. That would immeasurably improve the situation for Trev’s family.

Lewis shook his head. “We were just telling Deb. The hideout was ransacked and some guys tried to take the stove while we were there. But on the plus side we managed to stop them, and we also brought back an elk.”

Matt was surprised to hear the place had been found. For being so close to the road it was incredibly secluded, hard to find unless you knew it was there. “I guess it’s tough to keep things hidden from thousands and thousands of hungry scavengers.”

The older cousin nodded, then turned and jerked a thumb after Trent, still pounding up the road towards his family. “Speaking of which… judging by his Christmas morning grin as he ran by, I’m guessing that group of refugees we just passed is actually his family.”

Trev slapped his forehead. “Seriously! I knew we should’ve stopped to say hello.” He glanced at the stove inside the bike trailer. That was a good explanation for why they hadn’t: no risking run-ins with travelers on the road when they were carrying something that important. “Well now that they’re here we’ll need to see what we can do for them.”

Matt stared at his friend. The shorter blond man had a generous heart, but he’d made the same oversight Matt had. “Trev, why the blazes isn’t Gutierrez on your roster?”

Trev jumped, turning back from staring upslope to give him an uncertain look. “Huh?”

“He told me he’s been searching for ways to help out, when you’re having trouble filling shifts. Why didn’t you include him?”

His friend scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Um, because he didn’t volunteer?”

Matt knew it wasn’t fair, but he kept pushing. “And while you were making sure everyone else had a place when you got back, you left him sleeping in his tent?”

“Hey, why are you getting on his case?” Deb demanded.

“It’s fine,” Trev told her, although he hunched his shoulders defensively as he turned back to Matt. “Look, it’s not like Gutierrez is new to town. He has a place.”

So Matt wasn’t the only one who’d let the former soldier fall through the cracks. All the more reason to remedy the situation and show their friend he was part of the community. “He had a place down in the pile of cinders we abandoned! Here he’s got a tent, and his friends won’t even give him the time of day.”

Trev stared at him miserably, but Lewis was calm as he intervened. “Including you?”

Matt froze, and just that quickly his anger faded away. “Yes, including me,” he said heavily. “Me more than anyone. Forget I said anything, Trev.”

“No, I’m glad you let me know. I’ve been so busy with everything I didn’t even think about whether he needed a hand.” Trev smiled wryly. “And you know, I think a spot on the roster for tomorrow afternoon just opened up. I’ll see if he wants it.”

Before Matt could answer Trent and his family arrived. The next few minutes involved handshakes all around and introductions, then they all started into town.

As they walked Matt turned to Lewis. “Listen, I know you’ve had a long day and you need to get the stove sorted out, but can you and Trev spare some time this evening to help the Lincolns? They’ll want to get their house done as soon as possible, but I need to help Gutierrez with some stuff for his cabin that he can’t handle alone.”

“Gutierrez is building a cabin?” Trev asked in surprise. “Is that where he’s disappeared to since we got back? You made it sound like he was huddled shivering in his tent feeling useless!”

Matt thought of his confrontation with the former soldier and shook his head past another surge of guilt. “I’m not sure how long he’ll need me for, but expect I’ll be busy until dark.”

“We’ve got it,” Lewis said, nodding to Trent. “If nothing else we can get the walls high enough to stretch a tarp ceiling for them to sleep under tonight, in case it rains again. And let Gutierrez know we’ve got a venison steak with his name on it whenever he’s ready to break for dinner.”

Trust his friend to be perceptive about what had gone unsaid. Matt was grateful for the gesture. “Will do.” He turned to the Lincolns. “Welcome to Aspen Hill. I look forward to getting to know you all better soon.”

With a few brief farewells he hurried back down the street, leaving the group to follow at a slower pace.

* * *

The six Lincolns looked a bit dazed as they inspected the town that would be their new home. They obviously weren’t expecting it to be so clean, orderly, and well built.

Lewis didn’t blame them. He’d just barely passed the refugee camp on the road to the west, and the image of it was still fresh in his mind. It, like the other refugee camps he’d seen, was anything but well built, nowhere near orderly, and not even close to clean.

Moving here would greatly improve the family’s circumstances, he hoped.

And by the looks of it their circumstances could use some improving. Thomas’s father looked haggard and exhausted, leaning a bit on his son and grandson as they walked. Beside Thomas shuffled a woman about his age, likely his wife. Behind them came a footsore couple in their twenties, the woman carrying a toddler girl who wiggled to be let down, while the man pulled a heavily loaded cargo wagon similar to the one Lewis owned, but in much worse repair.

Trev had noticed the wagon too. “What happened to that big steel frame handcart you had when I met you on the road?” he asked. “The one loaded with grain and other supplies from Newtown? You guys looked pretty well set up.”

Thomas shook his head wearily. “Long time between then and now. Life happened.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” Trent said, looking genuinely worried. “I wouldn’t have left for two months otherwise.”

Trent’s mother, Maddie, leaned around to give her son a reassuring pat on the arm. “We traded the cart for necessities in the refugee camp. As for the food we’d brought, we either ate it or gave it out to those who needed it more. We got along okay, and were blessed in many ways.”

“Like reuniting with our son in a town that offers us a fresh start,” Thomas said, patting Trent on the back. He glanced down the street and brightened. “A town where some of you even managed glass windows on new cabins. Folks in those houses up ahead have their heads on straight.”

Lewis felt a flush of mingled pride and embarrassment. The aforementioned cabins belonged to the shelter group. “Well thank you.”

The older man turned to look at him, surprised. “Yours?”

“His family, mine, Matt’s, and one for the women and children from Jane’s group,” Trev said, grinning. “Once you get to know Lewis you’ll realize he thinks years ahead while everyone else is looking to tomorrow. He realized windows were going to be super valuable now, since they’ll be so hard to replace. When we evacuated the town he pulled all the windows off the Larson home and got permission from Mayor Tillman to do the same for the city buildings along Main. He encouraged everyone else to remove their windows, too, promising them it would be worth the extra effort.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Trent said. “Especially with the town burned to the ground. Those windows will provide free light in the winter, and a view outside to prevent people from going stir crazy. Not to mention providing easy controllable ventilation where needed. I was actually inspired by his idea to go find windows for our house.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I sort of succeeded. But, well, the windows are in pieces. We’ll have to work on them a bit before we can use them. Maybe tape, or some sort of clear plastic wrap or paper.”

Thomas squinted at the four shelter group houses. “Are there two window fixtures in each opening?” he asked.

Lewis nodded. “This winter is going to be brutal, and one pane of glass just didn’t seem like enough. It’s sort of like having storm windows, I guess. I’ve also rigged boards for each window, to put up inside when it’s dark or too bitterly cold. We’ll stuff newspaper in the gap behind the boards for insulation.”

“Smart.” The older man glanced at Trent. “Broken windows, huh?” His son nodded. “You know there’s a lot of vehicles sitting around on roads. Probably even in that burned town down there. I bet a lot of those windows and windshields are still around.”

That… was actually a really good point. Lewis couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Although there was one obvious problem. “Those would be hard to remove.”

“Maybe. But they’re tougher, too, which means they’ll stick around longer. Cars use safety glass.”

Trent grinned. “You’re right. They might look funny, but we could have nicer windows than everyone else!”

“On the subject of home improvements,” Lewis broke in apologetically. “If you could give us a minute, since we’re passing anyway it would be nice to put away our bikes and at least get the stove inside.”

“Sure,” Thomas said, clapping his son on the shoulder. “That’ll give us time to get the full tour of our new home.”

“We’ll see you there, then,” Trev promised, turning his bike towards the makeshift tarps they’d hung to cover temporary outdoor storage.

It only took a few minutes to check in with the family, hand over the elk meat for their parents to get started cooking or preserving, and haul the stove into the Smith cabin. On the outside it looked rough and frontier-ish, but inside the carpet, furniture, lights, and soft music playing from Linda’s phone made it seem far less primitive. Lewis had made sure his cousin’s family had all the same amenities his own did, and while he felt a bit bad for the Larsons and Jane’s group, what he’d had could only go so far.

Uncle George and Jim pitched in to help Lewis and his cousin move the stove where Aunt Clair wanted it. Then while the rest of the Smith family started planning how to lay out the stovepipe, Lewis led Trev outside and grabbed the biggest tarp he had, unfortunately one with a few roughly patched holes after hard use for various purposes. After giving it a quick check to make sure it would do the job Lewis folded it enough that he could wrap his arms around it, then the two headed out to help their new neighbors.

Like the rest of the town Trent had been storing up as much extra food as he could for the winter, and his family was digging into a quick meal as they rested from their journey. Trent had already gotten back to work notching logs, but at the cousins’ arrival he came over to help spread out the tarp and inspect it. Lewis didn’t mind doing it again, since in if the situations were reversed he also would’ve wanted to personally inspect it.

As they worked Lewis cleared his throat. “You serious about going after car glass, Trent?”

The man gave him a surprised look. “Well yeah. Our house could really use it.”

“It could also be a good way to make a living,” Lewis suggested. “Maybe not immediately but long term. Would you give us a chance to talk to you about it? Me, Trev, Matt, maybe a few others.” His cousin gave him a started look at that, since like Trent this was the first he was hearing about it.

Trent smiled wryly. “You want to go into business? What if I wanted to do it on my own, or just get enough for the house?”

Lewis shrugged. “It’s your choice. But I could read up on how to remove the glass easier. Or maybe we could get Chauncey’s help finding a mechanic to talk to. And you’ll probably want help hauling the glass, even if you just wanted enough for yourself. We’ve got our handcart, and the town would be interested in having extra even if we didn’t make a business of it.”

By reading up on it Lewis was referring to the terabytes of videos, music, and books he’d accumulated on portable hard drives, which he’d brought with him out of Aspen Hill. He’d done his best to include a massive variety of informational and instructional material, on every conceivable subject as well as general knowledge, in addition to the more entertainment focused files on the drive.

The slightly older man frowned. “I’ll admit, if I could sell glass it would help provide for my family, if not this winter then next winter. I’m guessing more people in Aspen Hill are going to want windows, and so will everyone else once the refugee camps start turning into more formal towns and cities.” He gave Lewis a careful look. “You’re willing to let this be my thing? If it’s a great opportunity I kind of expected you to go for it yourself.”

“I’d like to take part,” Lewis admitted. “Safety glass to use or sell would be really nice. But I’ve got other irons in the fire that I can focus on, and it was your dad’s idea.”

“What irons would those be?” Trev asked. Right, first his cousin was hearing of that, too.

“Stuff I’ve been thinking about. All early stage.” Lewis turned back to Trent. “Take some time to think it over.”

His friend nodded thoughtfully, and they worked in silence for about a minute. “Why do this?” he finally asked.

Lewis gave him a confused look. “It’s a good opportunity?”

“No. I mean, if all you’re interested in is having a bit of extra glass to use or sell, why push me to make a business out of it?”

“Because then you have a living, and Aspen Hill has a source of glass,” Lewis answered. “It’s a chance to benefit a lot of people, and if I’m not using it why not hand it off to someone else?”

Trent shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

Lewis smiled. “And that’s not all I can hand off. There are a few people in town who’re better situated to survive the winter, and one or two of them have asked me about putting in windows for their houses, too. But between our four houses we’re using up most of what we took from the Larson house. The rest of the windows are the town’s property, and not many townspeople took my advice and packed their windows with them. Between all that I can’t really help them out, and I doubt anyone else could, either. But maybe you could. They’d probably be willing to pay in food.”

The man cleared his throat and abruptly offered Lewis his hand. “Thanks.”

He returned it firmly. “What are friends for?”

Chapter Two

Windfall

There was a spring in Lewis’s step as he finished up the morning work, caring for his and Jane’s chickens and rabbits in their cages and their sheep in the pen, along with all the other chores allotted him by the family.

Normally that would just be the beginning of an exhausting day, same as every day had been since coming back from fighting the blockheads. Aside from when he’d taken a break for the trip up to the hideout four days ago, which had been exhausting in its own way. Not to mention increasing his workload afterwards catching up.

After morning chores he’d spent his days helping build and weatherproof shelters, chopping wood, gathering food and other necessary supplies, and taking the odd shift as one of Trev’s far lookouts for a couple hours, giving early warning of anyone’s approach. If he was lucky he might snatch a few hours for one of his other projects, most notably building a small one-room extension on his family’s house with its own connecting and outside doors, for him and Jane to move into.

Not only would the privacy be more than welcome, but he knew his wife was having a harder and harder time being around so many people with no space to herself when she wanted isolation. Which was why on top of everything else in the day, he did his best to find times when she was also taking a break and spend it with her off on their own. Often just being with each other without a word said, like they had when first going out on patrol together.

He and his wife tried join up to do whatever work they could, but unfortunately that wasn’t usually possible. The work Lewis was doing was the backbreaking sort: felling trees, dragging them around, digging holes, lifting logs while constructing cabins, things of that nature. Besides, with Jane’s skill hunting, trapping, and foraging, as well as her talent for reading the land to determine where game could be found, she was far more useful out there finding food.

Usually she brought Jim or Alvin or both with her, to help out carrying back any game she brought down, or to run back to a good radio spot if they were out of range and call for help if she’d bagged something larger like an elk. More importantly, she was teaching the two young men skills they’d need to survive.

But all that was for another day. Today his chores were done and he’d kept his schedule clear, so to speak. He was ready to go shell hunting.

He sought out his wife, who was finishing her own chores, and gave her a hand so she’d be done quicker. “Ready for another vacation?”

She grimaced. “I’m not sure I’d call the first one a “vacation”, spending the day pedaling up mountain roads then helping tow back hundreds of pounds of cast iron and elk.”

He just grinned wider. In spite of her complaint he knew she liked getting out with him on their own for longer than a few snatched minutes here and there. “But the parts in between were fun, right?”

Jane finally grinned back. “Unless you have a repeat performance in mind, I’m not sure whether to call this business venture of yours that might not go anywhere a vacation, either.”

Lewis blinked. He actually hadn’t considered this trip as another chance to enjoy some much needed intimacy, mostly since they weren’t exactly going to a secluded spot. Not that he wasn’t willing to entertain the idea: he really needed to finish their room sooner rather than later so they wouldn’t have to resort to things like this.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway I’ve already got Chauncey sending out feelers on the equipment and other supplies we’ll need. These days they’re guaranteed to be costly, but as long as today goes well the return on investment could be enough to make us rich all on its own.”

His wife leaned against him as they started for their bicycles, his still with the trailer hitched up ready to go. “Believe me, I understand the idea of taking useless trash people are literally walking all over and turning it into one of the most valuable commodities around. If you can manage it… you may have the best instructive books and audio guides in the world, but you’ve never done this before.”

True. But he hadn’t let that stop him from doing anything else he’d needed to learn to do. “Even if we can’t get the equipment or I turn out to be completely inept, if we sit on these for a while people will eventually realize their value, and then we can sell what we gathered to people who actually can do it.”

It would be a shame to do that, giving others profit he could’ve been making himself. But it was comforting to know today wouldn’t be a complete waste of time even if things didn’t pan out.

They stopped for a second at the family’s cabin to let their parents know they were heading out, and while Jane waited Lewis popped into the large tent they were using as a temporary town hall to remind Matt, Trev, and Chauncey of his plans.

“I can’t tell if it’s a genius idea or a complete waste of time,” Matt said. “But either way be safe. The military’s doing a good job securing the road for travelers, but you can never be too careful.”

Trev looked a bit glum as he clapped Lewis on the back. “Wish I could come along, but I can’t justify taking a whole day twice in less than a week. Guess I have to be satisfied with a steady job that sometimes gives me a meal, while you’re off chasing get rich quick schemes.”

Lewis grinned. “Get rich quick schemes that’ll help the whole town, if things go well. But don’t worry, this is just the first step. There’ll be plenty of chances for you to join in if you want to be a partner.”

His cousin finally grinned back. “Have fun picking up litter on the highway, then.”

“I can’t wait.” Lewis went over to shake hands with Chauncey, confirming that the retired teacher hadn’t heard anything back yet on the needed equipment, then rejoined Jane and hopped on his bike.

They went east rather than west this time, making the mostly downhill trip to Aspen Hill Canyon, then down through it to the old town. It was a fast trip and they made good speed, although picking their way over the hill of loose boulders and scree where they’d dropped the cliff onto the road slowed them down as much as usual. The delay was even more depressing when he considered that every mile going downhill now would be agony coming back uphill. Thanks to that time constraint they didn’t stop at their former town or the shelter and continued on to Highway 6, traveling north.

Since they’d gone after the bike trailer they already had some idea of what the former blockhead territory looked like now. Even so it was sad to see Helper burned to the ground the same way Aspen Hill was.

From the scattering of tents outside the charred area it looked as if some of the residents of the town who’d fled the blockheads were trickling back to their land, if not their homes. Lewis hoped they managed to find some way to eke out an existence and survive the winter after they’d lost so much, but he didn’t risk stopping to talk to them and continued on.

It was a long trip, even on a bicycle, but eventually they reached their destination. And it was pretty immediately apparent when they’d done so; the spot where Colonel Grimes had held Highway 6 against almost constant blockhead attacks was literally a war zone.

Even with both sides now gone the evidence of it remained everywhere. There were abandoned sandbag fortifications lining the highway for miles, or at least piles of dirt where sand had been poured out so the bags could be reused elsewhere, all facing each other across a no man’s land.

Debris was piled up to create obstacles on the hillsides to either side, along with more dug out emplacements with sandbags or piles of sand. There was also evidence of crude booby traps neither side had bothered to take down for the garbage that made up their parts; strings of cans designed to rattle if disturbed, pitfalls covered by sticks and leaves over sagging frames, things like that.

It was almost creepy in a way, to see an area that had been of vital strategic importance not long ago now completely abandoned. He and Jane had passed the blockhead graveyards on the way here. Endless rows of poorly marked graves, or even filled in trenches for mass graves when the dead became too numerous to give them proper burials. Lewis had no doubt they’d find something similar for US casualties if they kept going up the road.

But now only the dead remained to indicate the massive bloodshed that had taken place in this area over the course of the blockhead siege. This had been one of the bloodier locations for the fighting, where the military had fought tooth and nail to prevent the enemy from getting a road that would’ve vivisected and isolated the US forces to the north and south, making reinforcements or other aid coming from either side impossible.

A loss here probably would’ve meant losing the entire war, and both sides knew it. Thousands upon thousands of Gold Bloc and US soldiers had died along a stretch of road only a few miles long.

And now there wasn’t even a roadblock here. With the Gold Bloc forces gone the military had expanded their sphere of influence and protection for hundreds of miles along the roads in the area, especially to the north and to the east where the blockheads had retreated. But before they left a battlefield like this one, quartermasters in the military looking to retrieve anything useful for their continued engagements as they pursued the enemy had to have thoroughly picked it over. And once the military was gone scavengers would’ve moved in, looking for any scrap of value.

But maybe even scavengers didn’t know value when they saw it.

Lewis braked near one of the blockhead sandbag fortifications and walked his bicycle to where it left the road and continued on down the dirt shoulder. Then he crouched, fingers sifting through the dirt. They came up with a handful of dull metal objects that had been swept off the pavement onto the roadside.

He held them up and grinned at Jane. “Told you. Most militaries consider brass completely disposable.”

It had come to him after that last fight defending Highway 31’s canyon with Davis, while he was walking around in the aftermath of the battle. There’d been hundreds, maybe even thousands, of shell casings on the ground that everyone completely ignored as they focused on stripping the bodies of anything useful and seeing to their burial.

Lewis had realized that a man with reloading equipment and knowhow could literally pick up thousands of potential bullets from the ground of these sites of battle, and he might be the only one who’d thought of it.

Jane crouched to pick up a few casings herself, rattling them around in her hand. “I never said they didn’t.” She pulled out a garbage bag and shook it open, then started to crouch again. “Let’s get to work.”

Lewis gave a low whistle to get her attention, then shook his head. “Not here.” He retrieved his bike and started up the road towards the US fortifications.

His wife followed. “Oh, right. I guess 5.56 ammo is going to be more valuable for reloading than 7.62x39.”

“Not to mention the Gold Bloc tends to use steel casings,” he added. “Those might have their use on the battlefield, like being a bit lighter than brass, but they’re terrible for reloading.”

The US side of the conflict had just as many spent casings as the blockhead side had, more than enough to fill the bike trailer to overflowing. That represented thousands of shell casings, mostly 5.56 but with some .45 and 9mm in the mix, along with a few rare spots blanketed with .50 cal from machine gun emplacements.

Even this was enough to keep him busy reloading for an unimaginable length of time. Assuming he could get the equipment, materials to make the bullets or actual pre-made bullets, primer, and smokeless powder. And there was always the question of whether all that stuff would end up costing more than the reloaded ammunition was actually worth, since it was generally held as lower quality than factory manufactured ammo.

But if he could manage it…

Ammunition was the new currency. Aside from food it was the one thing they’d always be able to find a buyer for. These bags full of casings represented the potential to build a solid life for their family, a secure future for their children. As long as they could manage to survive the cold winters, all those long days indoors waiting for spring would provide plenty of time to sit and do a mindless task like reloading.

After a quick search of the area, they broke out the garbage bags and got to work.

* * *

Trev had put Gutierrez on far scouting at the man’s own request. The former soldier preferred moving around to manning a lookout post, and since a lot of the defenders requested the less calorie-burning sentry duty everyone was on board with the arrangement.

Which meant that at the approach of the military convoy coming down the road from the west, Gutierrez was the first to radio in the alert.

Deb, with Trev as usual, gave him a concerned look when he lowered the radio after receiving his friend’s report. “Are we in danger?” she asked.

Trev shook his head. There was probably no cause for alarm, since their interactions with the military up to this point had been friendly. Even when they came for the town’s supplies, the fact that they were risking their lives to protect the town from the blockheads had helped blunt some of the resentment.

All that said, Trev’s duty was to defend the town. “Probably not. But better safe than sorry.”

With Deb’s help he got to work mobilizing the defenders to unobtrusively prepare for trouble. It was a precaution he sincerely hoped wouldn’t be needed: a convoy of soldiers and whatever weaponry they carried, fresh from defeating the Gold Bloc forces, would be difficult for the town to handle. Probably impossible, if they called for backup.

As Trev and Deb prepared their defenses Matt gathered up the town’s leaders to go out and meet the convoy. That included Ben Thompson, Chauncey Watson on the crutches Rick had carved for him, Catherine and Scott Tillman, Lucas Halsson, and a handful of others. Not to mention the crowd of curious bystanders who followed a safe distance behind.

A small crowd, considering these troubled times and the fact that they were greeting soldiers. But that didn’t stop more Aspen Hill residents from watching from within the safety of the town, peeking around the corners of cabins or out of the few windows.

The convoy was already heading down the road winding down the western slope of the canyon by the time Trev and Deb joined the delegation, well away from the houses where the gravel path leading into town met the road. The line of vehicles stretched back over the ridge, already over a dozen and no end in sight.

“That’s a big convoy,” Matt said hopefully. “Bringing a lot of supplies, maybe?”

“Or come to take more of what we’ve got,” Lucas replied.

Trev snorted. “If that’s why they’re here they brought way too many trucks. They could’ve done the job with a wheelbarrow.”

“Or they’re just passing through and aren’t interested in the town at all,” Catherine said, looking a bit amused at the speculation.

Lucas shook his head. “Not much east of here aside from Aspen Hill Canyon, which is blocked off to vehicles. Unless they’re here to clear the road they’re probably here for us, and I don’t see any heavy machinery in that line.”

The first truck in the convoy approached within a hundred yards, and the group fell silent as it continued on to half that distance before rolling to a stop. A soldier with a corporal’s insignia hopped down from the passenger seat and approached, calling a greeting. Matt returned the greeting and stepped out to meet him.

“Is this Aspen Hill, sir?” the corporal asked.

Matt nodded. “It is.”

The man gave him a slightly uncertain look. “I’m looking for Mayor Catherine Tillman.”

Catherine stepped up to Matt’s shoulder. “I’m Catherine Tillman, but I stepped down from the position of Mayor recently. This is Matthew Larson, the new Mayor.”

At that the man brightened. “Really? Corporal Bryant.” He stepped forward to eagerly shake Matt’s hand. “I was part of the group defending just south of you near 31. We talked over the radio a few times.”

Matt looked as if he didn’t remember the man, but Trev did. He stepped forward to offer his own hand. “Trevor Smith,” he said. “Your name’s not familiar, but I recognize your voice. You warned us of a few attacks headed our way, probably saved some lives.”

Bryant’s handshake was just as eager for him. “And you did the same. We learned to feel pretty secure about our northern flank with you there.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “And I was really impressed by how you went in and freed those civilians from the blockheads. A lot of them ended up in the refugee camp I’m currently stationed to. They owe you their lives.”

“Not just me,” Trev replied, embarrassed. “How are they doing?”

“Not bad, all things considered. Although we’re all in the same boat these days, aren’t we?”

“Speaking of which…” Lucas cut in, offering his own hand. “Lucas Halsson. Mind if I cut the reunion short and ask what the trucks are for?”

“Of course.” The corporal turned businesslike as he shook Lucas’s hand as well. “Although let me say it’s an honor to meet you, too, if I’m right in assuming you’re Lewis’s dad?” Lucas nodded, and Bryant’s grin broadened. “The blockheads eased up on attacking our area almost completely after your son dropped a mountainside on a few hundred of them, so I’m doubly in his debt for likely saving many of my squad mates’ lives. I’d like to thank him personally, if possible.”

Trev’s uncle shook his head. “He’ll be out of town most of the day.”

“Ah. Well it’s a shame to miss him.” The corporal turned to the truck. “As for why we’re here… the military discovered a massive windfall of nonperishable food. We’re here to distribute Aspen Hill’s share.”

Trev felt his heart soar, and beside him Deb grinned like a loon. He could see the others in the delegation grinning too. That was a lot of trucks, and hopefully they were all filled to capacity.

But Lucas quirked an amused eyebrow. “Timely windfall,” he observed.

Bryant turned back to him, his smile becoming sheepish. “Specifically, this windfall was discovered before we even arrived in the Rocky Mountains. But let’s keep that between us, okay?”

“How does that work?” Matt asked, frowning. “I heard the military barely had enough food to feed everyone for a month on strict rationing, back before the blockheads even got here. You had all this food back then?”

The corporal rubbed his chin in embarrassment. “Well it’s like this. The higher ups couldn’t just focus solely on the blockhead attack, dire as it was. They knew that even if we survived that, we were still facing a nuclear winter almost on its heels. Even with this windfall there isn’t enough food to last through it, so the rationing had to start immediately.”

Lucas was nodding in understanding. “But try telling a bunch of people about to face an enemy army a million strong that they need to starve themselves, so just in case they survive they can have a better chance of lasting through the winter.”

Bryant nodded back eagerly. “Pretty much that exactly. The military isn’t lying, we’re just neglecting to say when exactly we discovered this windfall.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Matt said. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it to ourselves.”

“Good.” The soldier started to turn towards the trucks, but Lucas clearing his throat turned him back.

“Question,” Trev’s uncle said. “You’ve had this windfall all along, but you also came in and took all our stuff. Was that to keep up the ruse that supplies were running out to keep the rationing tight?”

Bryant winced. “Kind of. But mostly it was to instill a sense of unity through sacrificing for the greater good.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. “Instill unity,” Catherine repeated flatly.

The corporal held out his hands in a “search me” gesture. “I’m just regurgitating the BS the higher ups fed me.”

“I suppose that means we won’t be getting any of the stuff we donated back,” Trev said. “Some of us were doing well enough to have a shot at surviving the winter without aid.”

Bryant gave him a lopsided smile. “Well now you’re in the same position with the military to thank for it.” He turned to Matt, becoming businesslike again. “First off, I was told your town holds roughly eight hundred people?”

Trev winced, thinking of the rescued prisoners in the Aspen Hill squads he’d brought back with him, as well as the Lincolns he’d pushed hard for the town to take in. All hardworking and dependable people, and hopefully they’d be valuable in building the community. But were the extra mouths going to dig into everyone else’s rations?

Matt glanced at him, seemingly thinking along the same lines. “We had 816 at last count,” he said.

“Then lucky for you, you seem to have friends who think you’re due a favor.” Bryant gestured. “Your town was allocated rations for 900 people. I suppose the surplus is the town’s to use however you think is best.”

Trev jerked slightly in surprise when he found Deb’s hand in his, briefly squeezing hard as she grinned at him in jubilation before letting go. He grinned back, and around him the leaders of Aspen Hill were quietly celebrating.

Then Bryant’s expression grew slightly grim. “The bad news is that we’re talking rations for 6 months per person. Our most pessimistic projections predict this winter could last as many as 7 or even 8. Especially up in these mountains, even in a lower elevation valley like this one. And even if you survive the winter you still have to last through the spring until you can start bringing in more food with crops or other means. So whatever preparations you’re making, I’d keep making them.”

That sobered the mood a bit. Although even thoughts of the ordeal ahead couldn’t completely dampen the news of 6 months of food for 900 people. That was more than any of them could ever have hoped for. It might mean the difference between only losing a handful of people as opposed to half the town, as many had feared. Especially after the hundreds of deaths Aspen Hill had suffered last winter.

“Not bad news,” Matt said with a smile. “Just less good, I guess. But still an unbelievable godsend.” He motioned back to town. “Should we get started? For now we can store the food in the town hall tent and the cabin we’re using for our clinic.”

The corporal nodded and trotted back to his trucks, which at his approach started up with the roar of dozens of engines. Matt immediately sprang into motion, sending Trev, Deb, and Lucas to escort the trucks while he and the other town leaders rushed back to Aspen Hill to gather volunteers to help with the unloading.

Food for 900 for 6 months represented hundreds of thousands of pounds of supplies. Getting it off the trucks and safely stored, both against weather and against potential thieves, was a daunting task. But daunting in a good way, Trev had to say.

He led his uncle and Deb to the side of the trail and waved Bryant on. As the lead vehicle in the convoy passed he was invited to hop on the passenger’s step to ride along, while Lucas took the spot on the driver’s step. Deb was invited to take the window passenger’s seat while the corporal scooted to the middle, but at the prospect of being squeezed in beside an unfamiliar soldier, even one who seemed friendly, she opted to squeeze in behind Trev on the step instead.

Bryant gave Trev a questioning look, and he shook his head to indicate not to make an issue of it. The brown-haired woman had plenty of reasons to be wary of men in uniform, although certainly not from their own side. Still, blockhead or US Armed Forces, combat fatigues looked like combat fatigues.

Out of respect for the town leaders still hurrying to get to town, the convoy traveled at a snail’s pace a modest distance behind. Bryant sheepishly admitted that with a bit of foresight they would’ve just made room for everyone on the trucks, but that would’ve actually taken more time and anyway it was too late now.

To pass the time, through the window Trev quizzed the corporal on the status of the refugee camp he’d come from, which was farther south and west of the mountains in Sanpete County. It was a large one, over twenty thousand people, and the logistics were a complete nightmare, especially with fuel running low. They’d been told to prepare to be completely isolated from the command structure and the rest of the camps when winter arrived, if not sooner. That meant they had to start thinking ahead to any problems, since they couldn’t count on help.

Trev could sympathize, since Aspen Hill had basically been in that situation from the beginning. Aside from the “help” Ferris had brought, of course.

“It’s pretty amazing of you to be out going around giving aid when your own situation is that uncertain,” Trev admitted. “And without expecting anything in return.”

Bryant hesitated. “Ah, there is one other thing,” he said soberly. There was a resigned quality to his tone, as if he was about to beat his head against a brick wall. “Officially I can’t ask, just inform you of the situation. Actually the higher ups don’t even really want that, but since they can’t offer a better solution we’re doing the best we can.”

Trev wondered if this was the shoe they’d been waiting to drop. He bit back a sigh. “Go ahead.”

The corporal shifted in his seat. “You were there, you saw how brutal the fighting was. I don’t know if any of your people were seriously injured, but without modern medical care a lot of even the simplest wounds became a big problem for our soldiers. My brothers and sisters in arms, people fighting to defend your homes and families.”

“We were fortunate there,” Trev agreed, wondering where this was going. “But I understand well enough. During a fight against raiders last spring one of our people lost a leg.”

Bryant nodded. “He’s in good company. There are thousands of soldiers who suffered amputations, minor or major, or who are still in recovery from serious wounds. These are brave men, as well as a few equally brave women, who risked their lives protecting you and lost a lot for it. They did their duty without complaint, they don’t deserve to be tossed aside.”

Ah. Trev should’ve realized that’s what the man was aiming at. At the same time he didn’t have much of a problem with what Bryant was indirectly asking.

It would be the height of ingratitude to abandon everyone injured fighting the blockheads now that the threat had retreated. He thought he actually preferred the idea of aiding veterans to that of bringing in refugees who had no skills to offer the town, even if the veterans’ injuries left them equally helpless.

Unfortunately he couldn’t speak for Aspen Hill. He led the town’s defenses, but when it came to organizing aid or taking in new people that was Matt’s call.

“I would be fine with welcoming in some crippled and wounded soldiers,” he began. The corporal brightened hopefully and Trev felt terrible. “Unfortunately this is something I have to bring up with the Mayor, and he’ll probably have to put it to rest of the town. Is there a rush?”

Bryant shook his head in resignation. “We’re trying to find a long term solution for our people. A small delay isn’t a problem.” But from his tone he clearly seemed to think “wait and see” was just a polite “no”.

Trev wanted to reassure him, but honestly the soldier might be right there. He resolved to hash it out with Matt while they were unloading the supplies and try to get the corporal a better answer than “maybe” by the time he left.

The next few hours were a confusion of activity as townspeople rushed to clear space for the supplies the soldiers began unloading from the trucks. Those supplies came in the form of a several bundles of coats, hats, socks, and gloves, only enough for a hundred people at most. That lack of cold weather gear was made up for by an endless line of plastic-wrapped pallets and cardboard boxes full of nonperishable foodstuffs, anything from cereals to jerky to cans of mixed nuts to candy and soda. There were also plenty of instant drink powders and baking mixes.

It looked as if a holding warehouse for a major store chain had been emptied. Not the healthiest food, Trev was dismayed to see, but the sight of the familiar processed foods he’d loved before the world ended set his mouth watering, even if some of them were probably a bit stale by now. Great for a party even so, but he was glad the family had their animals and were preserving a good portion of the meat they hunted, as well as preserving anything they foraged that could be stored for any period of time.

At least a healthy chunk of the supplies came in the form of a wide assortment of canned food, rice, beans, and other uncooked grains and legumes. The sort of stuff he’d loaded into his cart way back on that first day after the Gulf burned, as part of the rush to get what he could from the nearest store before its shelves were emptied by other people similarly thinking ahead.

And along with the bags of wheat and sugar he also saw huge sacks of salt, which were a prize in and of themselves. Salt had so many vital uses that it had often been used as currency in ancient times, and the town always needed more. In fact, he was surprised the military had provided it in such large amounts.

Then again they’d been generous with everything: whatever most of the food lacked in quality, it more than made up for it in quantity. Many hands may have made light work, but there was still a whole lot of it to do emptying the trucks.

Luckily there was no shortage of volunteers, overjoyed townspeople who couldn’t jump to the task fast enough. Trev didn’t even catch anyone trying to make off with whatever they could hide beneath their clothes or sneak away with unnoticed. He liked to think that was the quality of his friends and neighbors, rather than the armed and vigilant soldiers swarming the area along with his own defenders acting as a deterrent to theft.

During that time he got a chance to talk with Matt about taking in veterans. His friend seemed a bit hesitant, obviously thinking of the mouths to feed, although he certainly was willing to do what he could. But, like Trev, he deferred such an important decision until it was discussed by the town’s leaders. Trev hoped that having the Mayor on board would improve their chances, but he still had return to Bryant and let him know the answer was still a “maybe”.

It was late afternoon before the soldiers unloading the trucks finally saw the back walls, signaling an end to the seemingly inexhaustible store of supplies the military had brought. There were mingled cheers and groans at that, cheers for a job nearly finished and groans for the fact that the pallets of food weren’t actually infinite.

About that time Lewis and Jane returned, gawking at the hive of activity around the convoy and town buildings as they rode up on their bikes. From the several garbage bags filling his cousin’s trailer to overflowing Trev assumed the foraging trip had been a success. He hopped down from the truck he was working in and waved, Deb breaking away from where she’d been standing on the sidelines watching to join him, and the couple veered over to meet them.

“What’s going on?” Lewis asked, watching the last of the supplies being loaded.

Trev grinned. “Some good luck, finally. The military found a huge windfall and they’re distributing it to everyone. Six months of food per person, along with a few other necessities.”

His cousin whistled in disbelief, exchanging glances with Jane. “And no strings attached?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“No, but…?” Lewis asked, looking between him and Deb. Deb just shrugged, leaving Trev to answer.

“But they asked the town to take in a few dozen veterans who were seriously wounded or crippled in the fighting. They’ll help out as best they can, but there’s no saying how much they’ll be able to contribute. The town hasn’t decided on it yet.”

Trev expected his pragmatic cousin to take issue with the added burden, but Lewis just nodded. “It might turn out they could be more useful than we expect, if the town agrees to take them in.” He abruptly pointed to a group coming out of the tent. “Is that the leader of the convoy?”

“Yeah,” Trev replied. “Corporal Bryant. He’s a fan of yours, actually, since his squad was stationed just south of where we were below Highway 31.” Deb nodded at that.

“Even better.” Grinning, his cousin set his bike’s kickstand and hurried over to the soldier, leaving Trev, Deb, and Jane behind.

“What was that about?” Deb asked the redheaded woman.

She shrugged and pointed to the overflowing trailer as she got ready to ride off. “Probably about finding supplies and equipment for his reloading venture.”

“Ah, right.” Trev nodded after Lewis. “Shall we?”

Jane shook her head. “I think I’m going to get all these shell casings back home.” She hopped off her bike, setting it on the trampled grass beside the road, and moved over to her husband’s with the attached trailer.

Trev rested a hand on the handlebar. “Want me to ride it back instead so you don’t have to leave yours just sitting here?”

“No.” She quickly hopped on the other bike and started off. Trev knew the tall, slender woman well enough not to be offended by her terseness.

From the looks of it Jane didn’t have to strain pulling the trailer, since even overloaded like it was it didn’t seem very heavy. He supposed that spent brass was fairly light, even in bulk. The question was whether they were valuable in spite of their weight. He supposed they’d find out soon.

Deb gave him an amused look. She’d also been around Jane long enough to know how she was. “I’ll take her bike back,” she offered. “I know you’ve been wanting to be involved in this venture with your cousin. Go on.”

Trev nodded gratefully as she crouched to pick up the abandoned bike, and with a wave as she set off he made his way over to where Lewis was introducing himself to a very enthusiastic Corporal Bryant, who was shaking his hand and giving him a brief description of the fighting farther south of Highway 31.

For a few minutes they shared the highlights of their time down there, then Lewis cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to run something by you,” he said.

The corporal gave him a curious look. “Shoot.”

His cousin grinned. “You’re not far off.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shell casing. “I’m trying to get into reloading, but I’m having trouble with some of the supplies.”

Bryant whistled, taking the casing and spinning it on his palm. “Reloading, huh? Not a bad business to get into. I remember seeing just piles of discarded brass at a lot of the positions we held. Sometimes they ended up in the refuse pits, but most of the time they’d just get ground into the dirt. Some of the guys would call the ground around the front fortifications the Golden Carpet.”

Lewis’s grin widened. “I know. We visited the front along Highway 6 to see what we could find. Brought back three garbage bags full.”

That prompted another whistle. “So you’re set for casings. What’s the trouble?”

“Well I’ve got a few potential prospects for good quality reloading equipment, and I think I can get a handle on materials to make the bullets, too. But where I’m drawing a blank is on the smokeless powder and primers. I’m wondering if the military is the place to look. Maybe demolitions teams?”

The corporal was silent for an uncomfortably long half a minute. “You want me to try to dig into military supplies and provide you with gunpowder,” he finally said.

Lewis looked a bit surprised at his reticence. “Nothing illegal or unethical, of course. I want to go through proper channels. I’m just wondering if you could get me in touch with a quartermaster, or maybe if you’re aware of any civilian group that has some available. I might be able to squeak together a finder’s fee, or I could promise you a share of the reloaded ammo.”

Bryant’s expression cleared, and Trev blinked when he realized the guy had been afraid his cousin was suggesting something illegal. Jeez, had he thought Lewis wanted him to steal the stuff from the military? No wonder he’d been fidgeting like he was being backed into a corner.

“I can’t make any promises but I’ll look around,” the corporal said. “I like the idea.”

Lewis’s grin returned. “Yeah, it’s a good way to spend the winter months.”

The soldier was still holding the shell casing. He absently rolled it between thumb and forefinger. “Are you planning on gathering up more of these?”

“I was, actually. Now’s the time to do it, and I want to have enough that I never have to run around scrambling to find more. Especially when I can get them for free right now with just a little effort.”

Bryant nodded. “With our troops running low on ammo I can pretty much guarantee the quartermasters are thinking of reloading themselves. I’ll try to get you the smokeless powder, but in the meantime they might be interested in buying or trading for brass. Assuming they don’t put us to work scouring the fronts for them.” He shrugged. “If not then trading some of what you scrounge up might be your ticket to getting powder out of them. I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” Lewis offered his hand, and the corporal gripped it firmly, then moved on to shake Trev’s hand as well.

Trev appreciated being included. “Well now that we’re done talking about reloading, should we finish up with the unloading?”

Chapter Three

Surplus

“I know, I know,” Matt told Meredith Banks, doing his best to stay patient, “and you’re not the first to ask. Believe me, we all want to get our share and take it home so we can start sorting through it and make plans.”

“So why aren’t we?” the older woman demanded, completely ignoring the bustle of activity going on around her. The last of the supplies had been unloaded off the trucks and the soldiers were getting ready to head out, looking eager to be done with the job. “Why are you dragging your feet on letting us have what’s ours?”

Aside from the fact that we just finished getting it? Matt thought irritably. He couldn’t blame her, or the others who’d come with the same question for that matter, for being possessive about food they desperately needed. Still, it irked him a bit that the ones coming around hectoring him about it were usually also the ones who’d stood on the sidelines watching rather than helping out however they could.

Thankfully Catherine came to his rescue, passing by with a clipboard she was using to jot down a list of what they’d received so far. At least as best she could manage; it was a daunting task considering the sheer volume of it.

“We still need to decide just how to evenly divide the supplies, which might take a little time,” she told Mrs. Banks mildly. “You do want to get your fair share, don’t you?”

The older woman immediately changed tunes. “Of course! I’m glad at least someone running this town has some sense.” She went off at least partially mollified.

The former Mayor turned to Matt with a smile. “All part of the job,” she said. “Speaking of which, it looks as if Corporal Bryant is nearly ready to head out, if there’s anything you want to say to him.”

Matt grimaced, reminded of the request Trev had passed on to him. Another part of the job. “How’s the tallying coming?”

It was Catherine’s turn to frown. “Nowhere near done. I’ll need to grab some people to help, and probably some more to make sure the “helpers” don’t wander off with anything. And we’ll probably want to stick around to make sure they don’t, either.” She gave him a significant look. “And the fact that there’s such a huge variety of food, not only varying in types but in quality, is going to make fairly distributing it a nightmare. No matter how hard we try someone’s going to feel slighted. And that’s only going to get worse when they hear about the town’s share.”

“Town’s share?” Matt repeated, surprised.

“The surplus for over eighty extra people,” the older woman clarified. She was interrupted by the sudden rumble of truck engines starting up, and she waved him towards where Bryant was still talking with Lewis, Trev, and Lucas, while Deb, Jane, and Lewis’s sister Mary all waited at the periphery listening in. “Go be Mayor, but then the town leaders need to have a serious talk about what we’re doing with those extra supplies.”

Even new to being Mayor as he was, Matt could tell that handling the surplus was going to be a problem no matter what decision he made concerning it. Just one more part of the job.

With a sigh he made his way over to Bryant. “On behalf of Aspen Hill wanted to thank you again, Corporal,” he said, offering his hand.

“Just following orders, although welcome ones,” the soldier replied, returning a crushing grip. He hesitated. “So, uh, about the veterans…”

“It’s something the town will have to discuss,” Matt replied, shaking his head, “although I think it would be a good thing.”

“Good. Then maybe I’ll come back around in a week or so to get your answer.”

Matt opened his mouth to ask why the man didn’t just use a radio, then he caught Bryant glancing towards the cluster of women standing nearby. Specifically Mary. The corporal’s face reddened slightly as if he realized he’d been caught, and he hastily turned back to his truck. For her part Mary seemed to have noticed the attention, humming uncertainly to herself.

As he watched Bryant leave he bit back a grin. Lewis’s sister was a lovely young woman, the sort of classical blond beauty who tended to catch the eye. Although she was so shy she always seemed more flustered than pleased by the attention. She didn’t talk much, but she always seemed to be quietly humming some song or another.

Matt had once overheard Trev making a passing remark to Lewis about Mary’s humming, which sparked the insight that she picked songs to hum that mimicked her feelings or somehow commented on a situation. That had led to some funny instances where her borderline rebellious or teasing choice of music nearly made Matt laugh out loud, which would’ve revealed he was on to her secret.

Of course, it also led to a bit of awkwardness when he’d caught her humming love songs around him. He’d avoided the awkwardness by avoiding her, which was a shame because she was one of the sweetest people he knew.

Other than Sam, of course. But then again his wife was hard to top.

As if his thoughts had been a summons Sam appeared to lean against his arm, slipping her small hand in his. Even nearly seven months pregnant with their child his wife was still very petite, which was all the more noticeable given Matt’s own height. She was more than a classical beauty too, with raven hair and just a hint of olive in her skin from her Mediterranean heritage.

“Was Corporal Bryant making eyes at Mary?” she asked, dark eyes dancing.

He shrugged and grinned at her, extricating his hand to pull her close to his side. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Helping Terry sort through the few medical supplies the convoy brought.” Sam grimaced. “There’s not much there. Clean bandages, sewing thread and needles repurposed for suturing, and a few bottles of antiseptic. No painkillers or antibiotics at all, or even so much as a bottle of cough syrup.”

Terry, Matt’s brother-in-law married to his sister April, was the town doctor. Sam and April had been helping him run the clinic nearly from the beginning, and after the violence the town had suffered through they’d had plenty of people to assist. Matt was impressed by Sam’s determination to help out with what was often a distressing task, although in her current condition he was more and more worried about her own health and the health of their child.

“Antiseptic is better than nothing,” Matt replied, although he was also disappointed that the military hadn’t sent them more medicine. That was something they really needed, almost as much as food itself.

“I’d say what they brought is way better than nothing.” His wife abruptly poked him in the stomach, giving him a fierce look. “Speaking of which… I saw a few boxes filled with packages of frosted gingersnap cookies. Want. When it’s time to divvy up our share of the food keep an eye out for them, please.”

Matt hesitated. “We’re still not sure how exactly we’re going to be distributing the food, but I’ll try to get you a few.”

She poked him again, expression fierce. “By “them” I mean every box. I want, no I need, them all!” Before he could protest that that would probably count for a good chunk of their six month shares combined, not to mention being incredibly unhealthy, she abruptly snickered. “Just kidding. I mean I’d love to have as many as possible, but I’d be fine with a package or two.”

“Oh good,” Matt said in relief. “I thought you were done with weird cravings.”

Sam grinned up at him. “We’re at subsistence living with almost no variety in our diet. You don’t have to be pregnant to be going crazy with cravings for all the food you used to love.” She abruptly hooked a hand behind his head to pull him down as she rose on her tiptoes, giving him a brief but warm kiss. “Not that I’m complaining, when I’ve got so much to be thankful for.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, pulling her around to hug her with her back to his chest and his arms protectively cradling their child. Together they watched the convoy drive off with half the town crowding the gravel street waving goodbye.

As the trucks started winding their way up the western slope his wife patted his hands on her belly, getting back to business. “I’m not saying abuse your mayoral powers to get your pregnant wife some cookies or anything. If you can’t manage to snag us any then a bit of old fashioned bartering should do the trick.” She looked up and abruptly sighed. “Speaking of mayoral… looks like it’s time for you to get to work.”

Matt looked over and saw Catherine approaching with the town’s leaders. “Looks like it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Shall we, Mrs. Mayor?”

Sam craned her head around to look up at him, dark eyes twinkling. “That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear someone calling me. Especially not just out of my teens.”

“Yeah, me either.”

They made their way over to the leaders, where a crowd was starting to form now that the convoy was gone. Catherine and Lucas left everyone behind and hurried to intercept him before he could get dragged into the confusion.

“Everyone’s impatient,” Catherine warned. “You’re going to need to talk to them.”

Matt felt that familiar stab of fear at public speaking. “Shouldn’t we call a town meeting?”

Lucas gave him an amused look, gesturing at a crowd that already numbered in the hundreds. “I’d say you’ve already got one on your hands.”

“It sure looks that way,” Sam agreed.

Matt helplessly followed the older man’s gaze. This would be his first time formally addressing the entire town in his capacity as Mayor. Most of the people in that crowd were friends, or at least people who’d come to him for aid or who he’d gone to asking for help with some project on the town’s behalf. But he still didn’t look forward to getting up in front of them and talking them down from their excited state.

And this was them with good news. Matt had a new appreciation for all the times John Anderson and then later Catherine had handled the crowd in a crisis.

“All right,” he said in resignation. “Find me something to stand on. That should delay things long enough for me to figure out what I’m going to say.”

Lucas nodded and hurried off, while Catherine stepped closer and caught his arm, glancing at Sam. “Could I borrow your husband for a second, Samantha?” she asked. Surprised, Sam nodded and trailed Lucas to join their friends and family in the crowd. Once she was out of earshot the older woman turned and gave Matt a solemn look. “Whatever your speech is,” she said in a low voice, “most importantly you cannot give up the surplus.”

“Is it really that important?” Matt asked. “It’s going to go to them anyway.”

The former Mayor gave him a look like he’d just said the sky was green and rained apple dumplings. “You have no idea how important. Even beyond making sure it goes to the people who need it most, to ensure as many people as possible make it alive through what’s coming, if you undermine your own authority on this things are only going to get harder from here.”

He blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Catherine hesitated, glancing at the agitated crowd, then sighed. “Listen. Every government since the dawn of time has existed by taking during times of plenty and distributing during times of need. It’s not an ideal system even when they show restraint in the taking and generosity in the giving, as endless numbers of academics and armchair philosophers will be quick to tell you. But human nature being what it is there’s a reason people tend to keep going back to it. More importantly, during those times of need people need to know there’s someone out there handling the crisis and looking out for them. Even if it’s done poorly it’s a tremendous comfort to people desperately in need of reassurance.”

That made sense, even if Matt didn’t completely like it. “That sounds a bit cynical. I have a lot of respect for the people in this town.”

The older woman chuckled and finally released his arm, patting it once. “So do I, which is why I did my best for them for so long. But even the best people are still people, and for the most part people handle crises in predictable ways. You need to stay on top of the situation at every second or the crisis will become a disaster.”

Matt noticed Lucas had grabbed one of the pallets and planted it on top of two sawhorses to make a crude platform. He hoped it wasn’t as precarious as it looked. At the sign of an obvious stage being constructed townspeople began looking more and more towards him and Catherine, a few shouting questions their way above the hubbub.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he said with a wry smile for the former Mayor. It had only jangled his nerves even more, but it was good advice and he appreciated it.

“Break a leg,” Catherine replied, smiling back. Then she glanced at the makeshift platform and winced. “Oh.”

With the older woman providing escort and moral support Matt made his way to the hastily constructed stage, silently nodding or gesturing for patience at the questions that came his way. While Lucas held the pallet steady he carefully climbed atop it, relieved to find it felt firm under his feet. Then he stared out over the large crowd, ostensibly waiting for a few final stragglers as he gathered his thoughts.

“All right,” he called in the calmest, clearest voice he could manage. He was a bit worried when the crowd was slow in quieting down to listen; even the town meetings in Aspen Hill’s auditorium had rarely drawn this many people.

Of course, back then they were just talking about boring things like mutual defense and survival. No surprise that the subject of food had drawn real interest.

He had to call a few more times before the gathering fell silent. Matt waited patiently until the buzz was down to manageable levels, then continued. “I’m sure you all know by now that the military has sent us food.” Considering they’d all just watched the trucks being unloaded, that prompted a mingled outburst of laughter as well as cheering.

Matt decided to wait it out, which took almost half a minute. “The unexpected aid is a lifesaver, but it doesn’t solve all our problems. As it is each person has been given food for six months, which likely won’t be enough to last the winter. I’ve also been advised that this is a one time thing. No more will be coming.” He raised his voice. “I’ll repeat that. No more will be coming! We’re on our own now.”

One of the rescued prisoners who’d come back with the volunteers, Matt thought his name was Grant, spoke up from near the front. “I heard we got rations for more people than the town has. What happens to the extra?”

Matt felt a moment of annoyance. He’d been hoping to bring that up a bit later, after covering a few other things. “We’re still deciding that.”

“What do you mean, you’re deciding that?” a woman near the back shouted. “You just told us we each won’t get enough to last the winter. We have extra, so split it up so we all have a bit more!”

That, unfortunately, was the reasonable argument where individuals were concerned. But like Catherine had said Matt wasn’t responsible for individuals, he was responsible for the entire town.

He bit back a sigh. “Everyone in town has been preparing for winter. Some have been able to prepare better than others, and a few even have enough with the six months extra rations to eat until spring. Do we want to share it out evenly, so some will have more than they need while others still won’t have enough?”

That drew another uproar. “Hold on!” Gutierrez shouted over the commotion. “Are you saying the better prepared should be punished for hard work and foresight? That seems like a great way to incentivize laziness.”

Matt gave his friend a wounded look. It was a reasonable question, especially considering how the former soldier had received so little from the town after giving so much. Still, it would’ve been nice if his own buddies weren’t lobbing rotten fruit from the peanut gallery.

Ben Thompson was quick to challenge that, mostly since after all this time he was still the nominal leader of the refugees who’d joined the town last fall. “You want to call the disabled, the elderly, and children who can’t provide for themselves lazy?”

Gutierrez reddened. “Of course not,” he snapped. “But you can’t create a fair system when you force those who work to provide for those who don’t, no matter the excuse. It’s doomed to collapse as more and more people decide they want to be one of those who don’t.”

From the front of the crowd Grant raised his voice again. “We’re not debating political systems here, we’re talking about food!” There was a roar of approval.

Matt rubbed at his forehead, even though he knew it wasn’t a very mayoral gesture. How had Catherine put up with this for so long? “I’m not talking about forcing anything!” he shouted. “The food will be distributed fairly. All I’m asking is if the town wants to save the excess for those who need it most, once things start going bad.”

That started another tumult. Those who weren’t in a good position now, and likely would need help before the winter was over, were arguing loudly in favor of the town keeping the extra for charitable purposes. Those who saw a possibility that the food would be unfairly distributed argued even more vehemently against it.

Matt didn’t like dramatic gestures, but no matter how loudly he shouted the townspeople ignored him. They weren’t getting anywhere like this. So he drew his 1911 and pointed it in a safe direction, firing a shot to get everyone’s attention. It was a near criminal waste of ammo these days, but it did the trick.

A few people saw what he was doing in time to cover their ears, while more shouted in surprise or dropped to the ground fearfully at the loud noise. After which near total silence settled.

Lucas, still holding the packing pallet steady, cleared his throat. “I know that works in the movies, son, but I’d call that highly irresponsible to do in real life just to get a crowd’s attention.”

Matt had a feeling the older man was right. He tried to hide his embarrassment as he holstered his pistol. “You all supported the decision to name me Mayor after Mrs. Tillman stepped down,” he said into the quiet. “I’d appreciate it if you’d at least let me finish talking before you put words in my mouth.”

The silence stretched on, somewhat sullen, and Matt continued. “I’d like to remind you of a few things. First off, the town is more than just the consensus of the townspeople. It has to be, otherwise why would the defenders who defeated the raiders have given most of the raiders’ weapons and other equipment to the town? Why would myself and the others who went after the Norman family’s herd of sheep have given most of them to the town? Why would the volunteers who brought back hundreds of blockhead weapons and ammunition and other gear have donated it to the town, which then distributed much of it to families who needed those weapons for hunting and defense? Why would Tillman’s Hardware and Sporting Goods have donated most of their stock to the town, as well as the building itself to be used for the storehouse? Why would numerous townspeople have donated their surplus to be given to the needy?”

A low murmur started. Matt hurried to continue before it could get out of hand again. “Yes, ideally things given to the town should be distributed evenly to everyone, if that was the intent of the giver and the best thing for the town. However, where things are given unconditionally to the town, they then become the town’s property to use to aid those most in need. Nobody’s had a problem with this so far, when many, many people have benefitted from the sacrifices of the brave men and women who fought to protect us for very little reward.”

The murmuring continued, equal parts guilty and sullen. “Now,” Matt continued. “The resources the town does have are available to trade. Say, for instance, with those who have an excess of food but lack other necessities. And the town continues to accept donations from those who have excess, to be used for charitable purposes. And the town has and will in the future purchase excess resources for what basically amounts to IOUs. And when the town lends out weapons for hunting and receives a portion of the meat in return, that meat is distributed to those who need it most and are least equipped to provide for themselves. That goes the same for the livestock in the town’s possession. It all works because people are willing to look beyond themselves for the benefit of everyone.”

“What’s your point, Larson?” the same woman from before shouted. “That you get to decide who lives and dies?”

In spite of the heated mood of the crowd more than a few people loudly protested that accusation. Matt fought to keep his calm, although he raised his voice over the tumult.

“I do the best I can as Mayor!” he shouted. “If you all decide I’m doing a poor job, it’s within your rights to remove me and select someone else, through the established process of impeachment and election. Until then I’m going to do my job. The excess food will be held by the town to aid those who need it most, with a council selecting candidates based on their need and their and their family’s ability to provide for them without aid.”

Predictably, that raised another uproar, with far more approval than protest. Probably from the large percentage of the population who didn’t have enough and would need aid.

Matt shouted over the noise, at this point not caring whether anyone heard him. He just wanted to get this meeting over. “The military’s instructions were simple! I was instructed to give each person their share, while the excess would go to the town to be used as the leaders saw fit. None of you are being cheated or shorted! You’re getting exactly what you were supposed to get! And if you really can’t live with that then toss me out and vote to split it evenly. Or heck, have the majority vote to split it unevenly and watch the town fragment around you as everyone goes their own way!”

He hadn’t meant to rant, but somehow during his speech the crowd had quieted down. Matt trailed off into an awkward silence as everyone stared at him.

“The military gave the surplus specifically to the town?” Grant asked from the front row.

Matt nodded. “Each person’s share is their own, but the excess is to be used as the town’s leaders see fit,” he repeated.

The new Aspen Hill resident made a disgusted noise. “Well why didn’t you just tell us that?”

For one precarious moment Matt was on the brink of either exploding into laughter or completely losing his cool. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I probably should’ve,” he said as calmly as he could. “Moving on. You’ll all be receiving a generous amount of food, and it may be tempting to eat more than you should. I would caution you to carefully ration it to make it last as long as possible, even beyond the six months if you think you can manage it.”

He hardened his voice. “If you irresponsibly eat through your share faster than you should, the town will not provide aid to you. I think we can all agree on that. Similarly, you all know the town’s punishment for theft. Exile. No matter how desperate you might get, I would be very disappointed to hear you resort to such measures. And regardless of mitigating circumstances, the consequences will be the same.”

Surprisingly, the crowd was mostly silent now. Maybe he’d managed to talk his way through the hurricane. He continued a bit more confidently. “On the subject of theft and rationing, the town is willing to store and guard any food presented to us on behalf of its owners. We will return any food stored with us upon request. We can also help plan rationing and distribute based on that plan, for those who would like that bit of formal encouragement. There will be a small fee for the service, strictly to pay for the construction of the space and compensate those who’ll be guarding it, but some might find the peace of mind worth the cost.

“Last of all, let me remind you that we just received a lot of food.” There were a few subdued chuckles at that, as people remembered they had far more reason to celebrate than complain. “What that means is it’ll take us a while to determine exactly what we have and how to fairly distribute it. Please be patient until we can get it done.”

The woman from the back of the crowd stubbornly raised her voice again. “What about those of us who’re starving now and can’t wait for you bean counters?”

Matt had mostly managed to find his calm again. He smiled wryly. “Well it may surprise you to hear it, but the town’s been doing its best to aid those in need. Mostly by giving them something useful to do besides complaining to earn their meals.” There were a few chuckles at that. “If you really can’t wait a few days for your share I’d say you qualify for those charitable efforts. Come talk to me and I’ll see what we can do for you.”

He fell silent, waiting for his heckler to find something else to complain about, but she didn’t respond. A bit relieved, he once again looked over the crowd. “All right then. Any questions?”

There were. A lot, and not all of them particularly cooperative. Matt did his best to answer the ones he could, relying on Catherine and the town leaders for advice with some of the finer details. But mostly the mood of the crowd had settled and they seemed content to wait and let him do his job.

After about another fifteen minutes Matt called the meeting to a close so they could get back to work dealing with all the food they’d received. He awkwardly hopped down, immediately found himself mobbed by people with more questions and comments, and began making his way through the press.

Among them he passed the knot of his family who’d been watching, his mom Mona and dad Ed, as well as Terry and April each holding one of their young sons Aaron and Paul. Sam was comfortably nestled in the center of the group, and he briefly stopped to kiss her as the others congratulated him on his speech.

“I’m probably going to be pretty late tonight,” he said apologetically to his wife. “Why don’t you head home and rest?”

“All right.” She hugged him tight for a moment. “Don’t stay up too late or push yourself too hard. I’ll see about having Aaron run over to bring you some dinner later.”

“Thanks.” Matt let the surging tide of humanity pull him away with a final wave and got back to answering questions, soothing complaints, and easing fears.

Catherine was waiting at the edge of the crowd, and as it finally dispersed she gave him a warm smile and pulled him into a hug. “You did a good job up there,” she said as she stepped back. Beside her, her husband Scott stepped in to offer a handshake.

Matt returned her smile with a rueful one as he gripped the older man’s hand. “You’d be surprised. Half the time I was fighting not to lose my cool, the other half I was trying to keep my wits together well enough to string two words together coherently.”

Scott laughed. “Welcome to public speaking, especially to an unruly crowd. Nobody’s as smart as they think they are, and everyone thinks they’re the smartest person there. So most of them act in their own self interest and call that the smart decision, drowning out the few people who actually do have valid points to make.”

“Although that crowd was rough by any standards,” the former Mayor added.

Matt winced slightly. “I wasn’t sure I was going to convince them for a few minutes there.”

“That’s what being Mayor is all about,” Catherine replied. “Half the time you’ll spend dealing with ignorant or deliberately unreasonable people, half the time you’ll spend trying to keep your cool when people treat you like a moron or a crook, and half the time you’ll spend examining yourself to make sure that you’re not actually the ignorant or unreasonable one, and you haven’t been acting like a moron or a crook.”

“That adds up to three halves,” Matt said with a wry smile.

The older woman nodded soberly. “Try as you might, you’ll never be able to do it all. You’re only human. Unfortunately the people looking up to you won’t ever let you be anything less than perfect, so they’ll come down twice as hard on you for every mistake, every inadequacy.”

Matt grimaced. “I’m guessing you don’t want the job back, then.”

The couple laughed. “You’re doing fine,” Scott said. “Whatever my wife says, not everyone in town is going to be as bad as that.”

“No, just the very vocal majority.” Catherine pulled Matt into another hug. “But you’re up to the challenge either way. Again, good job.”

At the former Mayor’s suggestion they started for the town hall tent to start with the daunting task of cataloguing. But they’d only gone a few steps before being flagged down by Lewis.

“Nice speech,” his friend said first off, clapping Matt on the back.

“Thanks.” Matt replied. He waited for Lewis to say more, but that seemed to be it. “Listen, I didn’t get your input on this surplus before the meeting. I know it’s a bit late for it, but do you have any thoughts?”

His friend shot him a thoughtful look, then glanced at Catherine and Scott. “Actually I do. There’s something I’ve been considering for a while that didn’t seem practical before. But now, with this food, it might just be.”

Matt held back a grin. Of course his friend had an idea ready. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay.” Lewis took a breath. “I think we should consider doing some recruiting.”

That was the last thing Matt had been expecting. “Seriously?” His friend nodded, and he could only shake his head in disbelief.

“I’m with Matt,” Scott said. “Even with the surplus we don’t have enough to feed everyone in town, and you want to bring in more people? You gave the exact opposite advice back when the refugees showed up right after the Gulf burned, and I agree with past you. We can’t afford to.”

Lewis didn’t look daunted by the opposition. “I’m not sure we can afford not to.”

Matt’s disbelief turned to confusion. “Okay, you’re going to have to walk us through your reasoning here.”

His friend flashed a brief grin. “I was planning to. By recruiting I don’t mean just snagging anyone looking for a home and inviting them in. We’re living near a refugee camp filled with thousands of people, and at least some of those people have some specialized education and skills this town seriously needs to survive short term and prosper long term. I’m suggesting we search around for twenty or thirty people who could help this town most, then set up a committee to interview them and see what they have to offer us.”

Well. Matt had to agree that if they were going to take in people, better to pick out the best and brightest. But he wasn’t sure that was the necessity his friend suggested. “What sort of skills are we lacking? We’ve done fine so far.”

“How about a trauma surgeon, for one?” Lewis asked. “We’ve lost people to injuries who might’ve survived with better care.” He caught Matt’s glare and hastily added. “Terry’s been doing a remarkable job, I’m not saying otherwise. But don’t you think he could benefit from having someone with more specialized knowledge and experience to work with?”

“Maybe,” Catherine agreed warily. “Is it worth the extra food we’d be giving out, though?”

“Ask those who need treatment what they think,” Lewis said. He hesitated, looking almost guilty. “The town could also use an OB/GYN who specializes in childbirth complications. You know we’ve already lost children and mothers.”

For a brief moment blinding rage surged through Matt. Was his friend seriously preying on his worries about Sam and their baby to push for this? It took physical effort to bite back the stream of obscenities he wanted to toss Lewis’s way.

He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “That’s low, son,” Scott said, while Catherine glowered in disapproval.

“I don’t blame you for being ticked off at me for bringing it up,” Lewis said quietly. “But you know it’s true, and my motives aren’t entirely selfish here. You think I don’t worry about what might happen to Jane once we’re ready for kids? And Mary and Linda when they get to that point? And I really do care what happens to Sam.”

That calmed Matt down a bit, but he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth just yet. He nodded for his friend to continue.

“There are some problems no amount of planning and research and preparation can guarantee success in solving, unless you already have the requisite practice and skill. Only professionals can really handle them. Professionals who can be the difference between life and death for hundreds of people at the cost of food for one.”

In spite of the earlier tension his friend seemed to be winning over the Tillmans, who were nodding thoughtfully. Matt supposed there was some merit to the suggestion. “Okay,” he said, trying not to sound grudging. “I’ll admit you make a lot of sense. We can run it by the other town leaders and see what they think.” He paused, then grinned wryly. “I’m guessing you’ve already been working up a list of skill sets to look out for?”

Lewis grinned back. “A few dozen. There are probably some I haven’t thought of, though. You and the other leaders know best what we really need. Ideally if you can find people who tick more than one requirement off the list that’s even better, and if they happen to have families then if whoever they bring with them also has useful skills that’s better still. And of course we want to consider things like health and what resources they already have to care for themselves, for a start.”

“Fair enough,” Catherine said. “But have you considered how we’re going to get in contact with these potential new community members?”

“Sort of. Chauncey’s been making a lot of friends on the radio, so he might have some suggestions. We probably want to avoid word of mouth through the camp itself, unless we can trust the people we talk to to only pass the invitation on to qualified recruits.”

Scott chuckled. “You think?” he said dryly. “The last thing we want is a stampede of refugees with false hope or, even worse, false promises passed on through rumor.”

Matt shuddered. The town had already had more than its share of problems with refugees hoping for something that wasn’t there. A lot of that could be blamed on the town’s previous Mayor John Anderson and the City Council, who before the Gulf refineries attack had spent the emergency money FETF gave them on other things, rather than preparing the supplies for the refugees from Utah Valley the town had agreed to take in. So when all those people arrived expecting a refuge they’d found themselves turned away from the sheer pragmatism that the town couldn’t help them, which had led to plenty of suffering and resentment on both sides.

Still, whoever was to blame it was a situation he wasn’t eager to repeat.

“Anyway I just thought the idea was something to consider,” Lewis said, straightening. “Now, how can I help out here?”

Chapter Four

Out in the World

Another one of Lewis’s road trips, and only five days after his last one. Trev would’ve thought his cousin had more than enough to do without grabbing his bike and riding off every few days, especially with the work he was doing building a room for him and Jane taking up every moment of his spare time.

But no, here they were again. And from the sounds of it a trip with Trent to scavenge for vehicle windows and windshields was in the works, too.

Although Trev wasn’t really complaining. For one thing Lewis had been more than happy to invite Deb along this time, and for another they would be going out to the battle front along Highway 6 to gather even more spent shell casings. His cousin wanted to get his hands on as many as possible before someone else had the same idea, and Trev was glad to be part of the venture.

Although he didn’t have nearly as easy a time getting full days off for this sort of thing. As it was he barely found opportunities to go out and check on the beehive Lewis had let be his thing, to make up for not having any sheep or other animals like his cousin, Jane, Matt, Rick, Alice, and even Alvin Harding now owned. Trev was relying more and more on Jim to check on it for him, and while there wasn’t too much labor involved he still felt guilty putting his brother on the spot. Even if Jim seemed more than happy to be included.

The good news there at least was that the bees seemed to sense the approach of nuclear winter, and they were working overtime storing honey. He just hoped it was enough.

For this trip Lewis planned to leave early in the morning, just in case the ride took longer than expected, so Trev got up even earlier to do his morning chores. As soon as he was finished with that he made his way over to the cabin where the single mothers and children of the shelter group lived, the remaining members of the party of refugees that had come into Aspen Hill with Jane last fall.

The women had happily welcomed Deb to come live with them, which was a relief because otherwise Trev wasn’t sure exactly where he could’ve found a place for her. And while they’d expressed some concern that the brown-haired woman wasn’t opening up to them, the arrangement seemed to be going well otherwise.

At his knock Deb emerged rubbing her eyes and yawning. Like him she wore a coat to ward off the early morning chill, which would become baggage to carry with them once it warmed up. Also like him she had her rifle, pistol, body armor, and pack with camping gear and enough provisions for a couple meals from her share of the supplies the soldiers had brought.

They grabbed their bikes, Deb having borrowed Matt’s, and rode for the edge of town where Lewis had suggested they meet, even though they all lived right next door to each other.

Trev realized why when he saw that his cousin had invited a lot more people than just Jane and the two of them. Jim and Linda were there, too, somehow having woken up and gotten ready without him noticing while he was occupied with chores, and so was his Mary. The three were leaning on the shelter group’s remaining three bicycles, looking bleary eyed but eager.

And it wasn’t just his siblings and cousin. Alvin Harding and Wes Watson stood off to one side, joking with each other as they checked the old, rundown bikes they had to have borrowed from the town. With the two young men were a boy and girl in their early teens, members of one of the refugee families that had first joined the town last fall. Trev thought they might be Ben’s grandkids Eve and Harry; he remembered hearing Rick mention that Wes had made friends with some of the refugee kids back when they were living at that meadow above Aspen Hill Canyon during the fight against the blockheads.

“Lewis drag you all on this adventure, too?” he joked as he and Deb arrived. Although he had to wonder if taking a bunch of young’uns so far away from town was the best idea.

“Well yeah, we’re here for adventure,” Alvin called over. “But mostly for snack cakes.”

Trev bit back a smile. So that was why his normally pragmatic cousin had finagled to have junk food as part of his six month supply. Planning to pay off his helpers even then.

Linda made a face. “Those things are awful. I’m doing it for honey treats.”

That made him blink. Not that his sister preferred eating healthy, but that those were an option. Aunt Eva had been making treats out of the honey Trev, his mom, and Lewis had gathered last spring in this very valley. She added a variety of wild seeds and ground nuts into the honey until she could roll the mixture into balls, then dipped those in rolled oats for an outer coating.

Back before the Gulf burned Trev probably would’ve picked them last on the dessert table, but before the military’s windfall arrived they’d been about the only sweet thing in new Aspen Hill, especially made with fresh ingredients. To a palate starved for variety they were delicious. Or at least, they had been before the town was flooded with enough sugary goodness to stock a dozen stores. Apparently for Linda they still were.

“Sounds like he’s making this trip worth your while,” Deb said, sounding amused.

Eve eagerly piped up. “He is! He told us we’d get one for every thousand shells we found.” Her eyes drifted over Trev’s shoulder. “Right?”

Trev turned to see Lewis and Jane rolling up on their bikes. “Right,” Lewis called. “That’s the deal.”

His cousin was probably using up days’ worth of rations for this. Although that wasn’t what Trev had a problem with. He left Deb with the others and walked over to the two, stopping them out of earshot of everyone else. “Is it safe to bring them?”

Lewis shrugged. “I had Chauncey radio the military. They assured him that Highway 6 is free of trouble right now. Refugees are traveling along it with escorts, not to mention the usual military patrols, and there’s been no sign of bandit activity since the blockheads left.” He smiled. “Besides, we can keep them safe.”

Trev nodded dubiously. “You asked their parents, right? Our parents too?”

“Of course.” Lewis patted his backpack, where presumably the various treats were packed. “They seemed happy enough at the chance for the kids to get some free food. Chauncey even joked that visiting the site of what’s probably going to be a historical battleground is a good educational opportunity.”

“Okay. I’m still not sure about this, though. It’s a long way to go, in territory that was dangerous not too long ago.”

Lewis looked a bit deflated by his objections. “Fair enough,” he agreed reluctantly.

Trev figured if the parents were on board then he was just dampening the mood, and this was something his cousin was excited about. So he decided to lighten things up. “I’m getting sugary bribes too, right?”

Lewis grinned. “Nope. Deb has the same deal as the others, but your reward is you get to help me and Jane with the dull, repetitive task of reloading all through the winter months.”

Trev made a face. “Seriously? Remind me never to put you in charge of finding stuff for me to do.”

“Well I mean, I’m not forcing you to do it or anything. It’s as much your opportunity as mine if you want it.” His cousin leaned off his bike and bumped Trev’s shoulder with a fist. “Partner.”

That perked him up. “You mean business partner, not “howdy, partner,” right?”

Jane snorted, and Lewis laughed. “Right.” He abruptly raised his voice. “All right, let’s get this show on the road!”

Everyone scrambled onto their bikes, and in less than a minute they’d put their backs to new Aspen Hill and their faces to the rising sun, with Lewis and Trev in the lead and Jane and Deb as rearguard.

As they started out a thought occurred to Trev. “You’re paying them by the thousand, huh?” Riding beside him his cousin nodded. “Are you going to make them count that out?”

Lewis shuddered. “Ugh, I wouldn’t do that to them. We’ll just weigh whatever they get.”

That made sense. “How much do a thousand casings weigh, anyway?”

His cousin hesitated. “No idea,” he admitted. “Although it won’t be too hard to figure out. I suppose that means I’ll have to count to a thousand at least once, though.”

After the ride up to the eastern ridge of the valley most of the rest of the morning was spent speeding downhill, aside from the aggravating delay picking their way over the collapsed cliff blocking the road while pushing or even carrying their bikes. But other than that it was an exhilarating trip, especially after the drudgery of hard labor and sentry duty.

It brought Trev back to his bike trip to Michigan last spring, when he’d spent long days putting the miles behind him. That had been a hard and exhausting journey, with more than its share of fear and misery. But there’d been plenty of enjoyable moments too, and most of them involved the wind in his face as the road blurred by beneath him.

The long mountain roads gently sloping downwards to Aspen Hill Canyon were the best for picking up some serious speed, while the sharply twisting canyon canyon road required them to frequently brake for sharp turns, at least once they got past the blocked off part. Those steep corners provided their own enjoyment as he and his cousin took them at borderline dangerous speeds, although Trev felt a bit irresponsible considering the kids following behind. Common sense prevailed and he slowed down.

Even so, it felt like no time at all before they were passing the burned hulk of Aspen Hill. The sight sent a surge of pain through Trev, not only at what they’d lost but at his failure to prevent it, irrational as that was. He had a feeling the others felt the same; the banter fell silent as they concentrated on hurrying past at the best speed they could manage, and their good cheer didn’t make a comeback until the ruined town was out of sight behind hills.

The second leg of the trip along Highway 6 was uphill again. Nowhere near as steep as Aspen Hill Canyon, but it definitely got their lungs burning and turned their legs to rubber, forcing frequent stops to dismount and walk their bikes for a while. Trev could’ve gone for much longer at a better speed, but that’s how traveling in groups went; they were always limited to the pace of the slowest member. Which was fine, and kept the trip more relaxed.

At least for everyone but Linda, who did her best with her obvious (and vocal) misery to show everyone she regretted her decision to come along. But in spite of her complaining she pushed hard to keep up, which was something.

Just before reaching their destination they passed a group of refugees coming the other way, maybe 50 people escorted by several soldiers. The refugees had stopped for lunch, which prompted a rest break for Lewis’s group as well that Linda practically demanded. During that break Trev, Lewis, and Jane, less tired than the others, took a moment to briefly chat with the leader of the refugees and the soldiers guarding them, and learned that the large group wasn’t just randomly wandering.

The military, no fools, had realized that for all the safety the mountains offered they were going to be a horrible place to be once winter rolled around. Especially nuclear winter. Ever since the blockheads left two and a half weeks ago, they’d been having their scouts on patrol also keep an eye out for likely spots in the valleys east and west of the mountains. Whenever they found one they encouraged as many refugees as the spot could accommodate to move there, and once the people were relocated they trucked in supplies for them, their 6 months of rations as well as any necessities the refugees couldn’t carry on their backs.

It seemed like a pretty good deal to Trev, all things considered. The only downside was that the relocated settlers had to walk to their new homes. To that the refugee leader stoutly replied that since most of them had already walked so far already, a little farther was bearable.

The soldiers seemed curious about why Lewis was towing an empty trailer, and his cousin obligingly pulled a spent shell casing from his pocket to show them and explained about his reloading idea. Trev couldn’t help but think that considering how serious Lewis was about collecting as much brass as he could before other people had the same idea, he sure was telling anyone who would listen.

But on the plus side the soldiers, who’d been slightly suspicious, relaxed at the explanation. Most seemed amused, as if they thought it was a waste of time, but they wished his cousin and the group the best of luck in their scavenging as they returned to the refugee group and their lunch. Lewis led the way back to their group as well, declaring the break over to groans from Linda and Eve, which he responded to with amusement.

“We only stopped to talk to the refugees,” Jane said, pointing. “Where we’re going is literally just over that next hill. You can ride another hundred feet.”

That ended the complaints, and even Linda pedaled with a last burst of energy as they reached the former battle front and made their way to the US side of the no man’s land. When they got there Trev and the others who were seeing it for the first time gawked at evidence all around of the major conflict that had taken place here for weeks in the final phase of the fighting.

It was easy to fall into the trap of believing that the war he and the other volunteers fought near Highway 31 was how it had been everywhere. But they’d been at a relatively small, out of the way place guarding a blocked road, and the enemy had been focusing their attention on places like this.

Lewis didn’t give them much time to take it in, hopping off his bike to break out garbage bags and gardening gloves and pass them out. “Remember,” he said. “We’re looking for brass that hasn’t been bent or damaged. I plan to round up to the nearest thousand with any extra shells you gather, but if you bring me too many unusable ones I might be tempted to round down instead.”

There were nods all around, and immediately the group split up to begin their hunt.

Lewis had Trev and Deb go farther up the road to keep an eye out for potential threats coming their way, while he and Jane stayed at the other end where they could keep a casual eye on the refugee group, just as a precaution.

In between them the kids scurried around in a crouch, gloved hands stuffing handfuls of shiny brass into the garbage bags they dragged behind them. Trev worked at a slightly less frantic pace, wanting to keep half an eye up the road, but Deb was just as eager as the others.

“This is fun!” Eve called enthusiastically to her brother from not far away, coming up with another handful of casings. “It’s like a scavenger hunt!”

Trev couldn’t help but think wryly that a generation of kids brought up on internet and video streaming for movies and TV shows must be pretty hard up for entertainment to enjoy something like this. It did have its own mindless enjoyment, sure, but it wasn’t exactly exciting. Although he couldn’t complain that she was bringing a good attitude to it, considering the alternative.

He tried not to glance at Linda as he thought that. Even with gloves on his sister looked squeamish about rummaging around in the dirt, and she kneeled on the edge of the garbage bag so she wouldn’t get her knees dirty. But she was finding brass just as quickly as anyone, eager for the honey treats she’d been promised.

Trev noticed with some amusement that Alvin and Wes were working not far from the young woman, trying to engage her in casual conversation that did a poor job of hiding their interest. As for Linda, even though she seemed to enjoy the attention she wasn’t giving the two young men an easy time of it. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t interested in either of them, and Trev felt a bit bad for Alvin especially. The recently orphaned young man had obviously had a crush on her almost from the moment she’d arrived at the shelter, in spite of his poor chances.

Oh well. They all had a lot of growing up to do before seriously considering dating or marriage.

Which was a shame. Trev liked Alvin, and his sister could do worse than an honest, hardworking guy like him. He supposed he felt a bit protective of the young man considering his father, Tom Harding, had died because Trev led him and the rest of his squad in a reckless ambush that had ended up with them getting ambushed in turn.

He was just glad Alvin didn’t seem to blame him for what had happened. He would’ve understood, but he already felt enough guilt about it.

“Hey Alvin!” he abruptly called. At his side Deb jumped, startled. As the others turned to look at him he grinned. “We’ve been here for almost ten minutes and you haven’t made any bad jokes yet.”

The young man shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of garbage puns, but they’re all offal.”

Wes groaned. “Did you have to get him started?”

“I don’t get it,” Linda said with a small frown.

Before Alvin could explain the joke there was a commotion from up the slope north of the road, in the direction Eve and Harry had wandered off. Everyone turned, alarmed at the shouting even though it sounded excited rather than fearful.

It turned out the racket came from Harry, barreling down the hillside holding a dirty AK-47 over his head in both hands, while his older sister stumbled to keep up while also yelling in excitement.

“Look at this!” the boy yelled, waving it wildly towards them. “I mean seriously, look at this!”

Trev was looking, and while the find was certainly exciting, he couldn’t help but notice that the rifle had a magazine attached. If it had been discarded while loaded, with the safety off, the kid might accidentally shoot someone.

Lewis apparently had the same thought, and he was closest to the approaching siblings. He hurriedly strode over and yanked the weapon out of Harry’s hands, although he tried not to show he’d been alarmed. “I can’t believe scavengers didn’t snatch this up,” he said, inspecting the dirty mechanisms while unobtrusively flicking on the safety. “Where did you find it?”

Trev and the others were all gathering around for a closer look, and the boy puffed out his chest proudly. “There was a spot where the ground was all torn up, like a bomb went off. I was poking around there and stepped on it, all buried in the dirt. The explosion must’ve covered it up.”

“How about that.” Lewis used his sleeve to polish along the barrel. “It’s been pretty dry since the blockheads left, and not that long either. With a bit of cleaning this’ll probably be good as new.”

“How many cakes is it worth?” Eve asked excitedly. Her brother nodded eagerly at the question.

Lewis laughed. “This is worth more than snacks… it’s a real treasure. You’ll want to take it home to your parents. It’ll make their day, not to mention making life easier for your family no matter what they decide to do with it. They might even want you to keep it for yourself and start practicing how to use it.”

Harry’s eyes went huge. “Really?”

“After you’ve had some safety training,” Jane said sternly. “Like not running around waving a loaded weapon with the safety off.”

The boy flushed in embarrassment. “Right, sorry.”

Lewis slung the new weapon over his shoulder alongside his own and patted Harry on the shoulder. “It’s an important thing to learn. I can give you a few pointers about gun safety and targeting as we go.” He abruptly clapped his hands. “But in the meantime let’s get back to work, people! I see a lot of empty bags around here.”

Everyone was more than eager to get back to searching, although Trev couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t much stooping to pick up brass going on. Actually most of the group made a beeline for the site of the explosion, and once there began digging around in the loose dirt hoping to find more stuff.

“Come on, guys,” Trev called good-naturedly. “Finding an AK-47 was pretty awesome, and it’s possible there’s more stuff out there. But this place has been combed by thousands of soldiers and scavengers, so it’s not too likely. You can keep looking anyway, or you can pick up casings that you know are going to get you something.”

Eve, Harry, and Jim continued poking around, while everyone else made their way back to the road to continue scavenging brass.

The next half hour was spent in busy silence as everyone focused on the work. There were thousands and thousands of shells around waiting to be picked up, but even moving fast a person could only pick up so many at a time. Lewis wouldn’t just be giving away those treats, and if anything Trev thought his cousin might not be rewarding the kids well enough for their efforts.

Deb must’ve been thinking the same thing, because she’d abandoned her gathering and started exploring the area searching for more disturbed earth that might hide valuables others had overlooked. Trev was torn between joining her and keeping going on casings, since after all he was Lewis’s partner in this.

Before he could make up his mind he became aware of distant sounds, nearly drowned out by the crunch of feet and conversation of the rest of the group.

He paused, straining to listen. After a few seconds he identified the noise as coming from down the road, distant popping and what might’ve been voices. Hearing them made the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen.

He’d heard those kinds of sounds before plenty of times while fighting the blockheads. Gunshots and people screaming in pain and terror, coming from the direction the refugee group had gone.

“Trev!” Lewis shouted, already bolting for the bikes.

Trev was right behind him. “Deb, Jane, get the kids packed up and ready to go, then find any cover you can hide behind! We’ll see what’s going on and radio a warning if there’s danger.”

Everyone else was staring at them like they’d lost their minds, but Jane was quick to start chivvying the others into action. Lewis grabbed his wife’s bike since his own was attached to the trailer, only taking a moment to toss the AK-47 Harry had found into the trailer as he passed. He was already ten feet down the road by the time Trev started pedaling furiously after him.

The noises were distant, miles away, which meant there probably wasn’t a need for caution just yet. Even so they didn’t travel as fast as they could’ve on the downhill road, and constantly scanned the way ahead for any sign of activity.

It took them almost fifteen minutes to get there. Trev felt a bit relieved at the distance, since it meant the rest of the group back at the battle front were well away from danger. But as they rounded a final corner and came into view of the scene a few hundred yards farther down the road, any relief he felt vanished into horror as he took out his binoculars for a closer look.

He soon wished he hadn’t.

It was the refugee group, all right, and they’d been attacked. Soldiers and civilians, men and women, old and young, all gunned down without mercy as they tried to flee in all directions. Their bodies littered the road and the slopes to either side, horribly motionless and with wounds suggesting that the attackers had coldly executed anyone they found still alive. None of the bodies looked to be from the enemy, suggesting the attack had been carried out by people who knew what they were doing.

Trev stared at the carnage, a sick feeling in his gut.

“Bandits?” Lewis asked quietly, peering through his own binoculars. His face was pale. “A big group, to take on an armed refugee caravan.”

“No,” Trev said immediately. “The refugee group had more than twice as many people as there are bodies here, and it doesn’t look like any managed to get away. Also look at the bodies themselves.”

His cousin saw it quickly. “All too young or too old. Same as Deb and countless others have described it.”

Trev nodded, fear warring with sickness in his gut. “This was blockheads, and they took prisoners.”

“Slaves,” Lewis corrected grimly. He abruptly turned, grabbing Trev’s arm. “Listen. You remember Matt telling us about using back roads to get to your cache last winter?”

“Yeah,” Trev said, relieved at the suggestion.

Right after the Gulf burned last year and all the trouble had started, when he’d first left Orem to make his way down to Aspen Hill, his car had run out of gas along this highway, not far from here. He’d left most of his supplies in a hidden cache and abandoned the vehicle to walk the rest of the way, then later gifted the cache to Matt and his family to help them survive the winter. He remembered his friend describing how first his dad, then on a later trip him, Terry, and Sam, had used back roads to get to the cache without running into trouble.

Which was exactly what they needed right about now. He didn’t want to stay on this road a second longer than necessary, especially with a bunch of young people. “Good thinking. We’re not too far from there and it shouldn’t be too hard to find an alternate route home.”

His cousin shook his head. “You, Deb, and Jane take the kids, I’ll catch up to you when I can, or see you back at home.” He tightened his grip on Trev’s arm, giving him a serious look. “And be careful.”

Trev stared at him in confusion. “Why split up?”

Lewis let him go and motioned to the carnage down the road. “Someone has to let the military know about this, tell them about our suspicions.” He turned back, sharply waving for Trev to go. “Hurry. This didn’t happen too long ago and the blockheads might decide to come back.”

There was no time to waste, but Trev still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t like the thought of you on your own when there’s a group around big enough to do something like this. Jane at least should join you.”

“No, you’ll need her in case there’s some danger. Blockhead raiders might be on the back roads, too, using them to get around undetected.” His cousin grimaced. “And you can get on my case about bringing the kids on this trip when I get back. You were right, it was a bad idea.”

After a final hesitation Trev nodded. “Be careful yourself. I’ll see you when you catch up.”

He jammed his bike into a sharp turn and pedaled back the way he’d come. Every instinct told him to go all out and get back to the others fast, but a fifteen minute ride downhill would take even longer going back, and he needed to set a pace that that would let him get there fast without exhausting himself halfway through. Not to mention they’d be doing more traveling once he got there, getting everyone far, far away from any danger the blockheads presented.

Speaking of which, he was glad the road up Aspen Hill Canyon was out and the town was safe. But if the Gold Bloc was back and raiding in this area he’d need to keep his defenders more vigilant just in case.

After an exhausting twenty-five minutes he made it back to the others. It looked as if Deb and Jane were keeping watch for their return while the kids, not seeing any immediate danger, had gone back to collecting brass. They’d actually managed to gather quite a large amount even in the short time they’d been here. Trev was just grateful they hadn’t encountered any threat from the opposite direction while he and Lewis were gone.

Everyone hurried to gather around him as he braked beside the two women. “What’s going on?” Deb demanded.

“Where’s Lewis?” Jane added.

“The group of refugees we passed earlier was attacked, killed or taken,” Trev said tersely. “Blockheads. As far as I can see the raiders left as quickly as they came, but we’re still going to take the back roads home.”

The gathered kids all broke into nervous and excited murmurs, expressing disbelief and asking a barrage of questions on top of each other.

Trev ignored them and turned to Jane. “Did Matt ever tell you where exactly those roads were? We should be able to find them without too much trouble and make our way south, but anything to get us away from here faster would help.”

The redheaded woman shook her head. “He wasn’t exactly open about the cache and where he got it, especially before we joined the shelter group.”

“Then we’ll trailblaze.” Trev gestured curtly. “Come on, get your things and let’s go.”

“I need to join Lewis,” Jane insisted, curtly motioning for him to get off his bike so she could take it. “You take the trailer.”

Trev shook his head. “He wanted you with us, just in case there’s trouble.” Catching her eye, he glanced meaningfully at the kids they had a responsibility to protect.

She wasn’t happy about it, but she got it. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, Trev ushered everyone back to their bikes, piling their half full garbage bags onto the trailer. He ended up having Jane take his bike while he took Lewis’s anyway, since even though the trailer wasn’t too heavy he was best suited to tow it so they could make the best speed.

He was so distracted with the preparations that it took him almost a minute to realize Deb was still standing where she’d first been, stiff with shock and dismay. He made his way over to her and saw that she was breathing hard, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Deb?” he asked gently.

“They were supposed to be gone for good,” she said, voice barely concealing the beginnings of panic. “They were supposed to be gone. Why aren’t they gone?”

Trev gave her a reassuring smile, aware of how the young people had fallen silent, watching them. He wanted to reassure the brown-haired woman, but he also didn’t want her panic to spread. “There’s no way they’ll be able to do something like this twice. This was a surprise, but the military will definitely tighten their defenses to prevent it from happening again. In fact, the blockheads who staged this raid have a long way to go to get away, and Lewis is radioing the military to let them know what’s going on right now. The raiding party might not even make it out at all.”

She nodded blankly, but he could see she barely heard him. Her mind was likely flashing back to the horrors she’d experienced after being taken prisoner by Gold Bloc soldiers. That couldn’t be good for her mental health, but more importantly right now he needed her with him.

He stepped closer to her, dropping his voice. “Look at the kids,” he said firmly. Deb blinked, then glanced over at the pale, frightened teenagers, huddling together for reassurance as this adventure got a lot more scary. Trev continued. “I need your help getting them home safely.”

The brown-haired woman’s eyes gradually cleared, and she nodded resolutely. “Right.” She hurried to her bike and hopped on.

Not long after that Trev led the way west up the highway. As he went he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of roads down the slope to the south, even ones that didn’t connect to the highway itself. There didn’t seem to be any that he could see, and it wasn’t until they’d reached the burned out hulk of his car, still sitting forlornly on the side of the road even after everything that had happened, that he finally caught a glimpse of a wide ATV trail winding through the trees below.

If that wasn’t it, chances were good it led to where they needed to be. Trev hopped off his bicycle, with effort lifted it and the trailer over the guard rail beside the road, and motioned for the kids to begin handing their bikes over to him. While he did that Jane began navigating her bike down the slope towards the trail, eyes searching for any sign of a threat and ears pricked for unusual noises.

So far so good. Trev took rearguard as they followed the redheaded woman down to flatter ground. It still wasn’t ideal for biking, but with a bit of effort they managed to bump their way over to the ATV trail and started along it.

They hid a few minutes later at the sound of truck engines, and Trev watched from cover as two trucks that looked like US military roared past heading east. He wondered if they were in response to Lewis calling in what had happened.

Either way, he hoped his cousin was okay.

* * *

Lewis was relieved to find that with a bit of climbing he was able to reach a spot where he could contact someone. No one from the military itself, unfortunately, but the man he got in touch with was able to send along his message. Along with a bit of swearing at the grisly scene Lewis described.

Before too long he got word back that the military was sending a few squads to check out the scene. Lewis assured them he’d stick around and do his best to fill them in on what he knew. It was a long wait, and he spent most of it on lookout for anyone approaching, glad for the excuse to avoid looking at the sad sight below.

It took almost forty minutes before he heard the sound of two trucks roaring down the highway towards him from the west. He had to admit that even if the military had dropped the ball by letting blockhead raiders get all the way through the territory they were guarding to attack the refugees here, at least they were quick to respond once they were aware of a situation.

He made his way down the hill to where Jane’s bike waited, waving as the trucks braked across the road from him.

From the lead truck an officer in his thirties with the decorations of a captain emerged and strode over, extending a hand. “Captain Griggs, US Army,” he growled. Even as he spoke his eyes strayed to the first of the bodies sprawled not far away, and his expression darkened.

“Lewis Halsson,” he replied, accepting the handshake. “I live in Aspen Hill, not too far from here. I was with a group that passed these refugees almost two hours ago, and we were stopped a bit farther up the road scavenging when we heard the sounds of gunshots and screams. We came to check it out and saw this.”

Griggs nodded, somewhat impatiently. “All right, tell me it all from the beginning.”

Lewis started, basically repeating everything he’d reported over the radio. As he talked the captain motioned for him to follow and made his way over to the nearby body, a woman in her fifties or sixties, and began checking her wounds.

Once Lewis finished Griggs sighed and straightened. “So you’re confident it was blockheads, because they took about half these people prisoner and killed the old people and kids?”

“That’s right.”

The captain nodded, looking more angry than grieved. “You’re probably right. We got a warning from patrols along the perimeter to the northeast that some enemy vehicles might’ve slipped past them. But that’s hundreds of miles away… I never figured the enemy would come this far into our territory.”

“Maybe they’re still used to thinking of it as theirs,” Lewis said.

“Maybe.” Griggs shook his head. “Either way, this isn’t an isolated occurrence. Gold Bloc forces are still attacking innocent civilians outside our area of influence, but even closer to the Rockies we’ve had reports of at least three groups slipping past our defenses. All with results similar to this, although these poor people might consider themselves lucky in a way… when they had the time, in other attacks the blockheads committed unspeakable atrocities on the victims they left behind.”

Lewis thought of Deb and the other freed prisoners who’d come to Aspen Hill, and what they’d suffered. Those the enemy took with them were equally unfortunate. “So it’s not really over, is it? The all out attack may have failed, but they’re going to switch over to raiding us, killing or enslaving anyone they find and taking everything of value.”

“It’s looking that way,” the captain agreed. “Although I suppose the winter will put a stop to that before too long. Not that I’d call that an improvement.”

They fell into a grim silence, contemplating the tragedy around them as the soldiers Griggs had brought with him began spreading out across the area of the attack, investigating what had happened and preparing the bodies for burial.

“How is the fight out there going?” Lewis finally asked.

Griggs snorted. “Judging by the fact that the enemy managed to raid right into the heart of our territory and get away? Not great. Although not as bad as it could be. I’m afraid we overextended.”

Lewis waited patiently, and after a few seconds the captain elaborated.

“The bulk of the Gold Bloc forces have either retreated up into western Canada or east to the territory they hold on the other side of the Mississippi. They’re taking over the existing infrastructure there and bringing their civilians down to settle, even as they continue to enslave or exterminate the remaining citizens in the area. We sent most of our troops across the Mississippi, too, trying to hound the enemy to the point where they give up on the US entirely and join their buddies up in Canada.”

The older man sighed. “Unfortunately they’ve also got squads roaming the Great Plains area, killing, robbing, and enslaving anyone they find, and looting what remains of the towns and cities in those states. The group who attacked these refugees was probably one of those squads.”

“We’re doing something about that, right?” Lewis asked, frowning. “If nothing else, taking the Great Plains would cut off the blockheads in the eastern states from resupply and reinforcements from Canada.”

Griggs gave him a disbelieving look. “Kid, we’ve got less than forty thousand troops free to fight the blockheads. How exactly are we going to hold a territory as vast as the Great Plains with so few men? Even trying would be a waste of time, because the blockheads could just go around us to the north, and they’re not trying to hold the Great Plains anyway.”

Lewis nodded thoughtfully, and the captain sighed again and continued. “We do have some of our best Special Forces units out on the Plains,” he admitted. “It’s much more of a guerrilla war going on there, both sides staging minor raids and taking out enemy squads wherever they find them. Our boys are doing some good against the marauding blockheads, but as you can see plenty are slipping through the cracks.”

“I wonder if winter will kill the war for good,” Lewis mused.

Griggs chuckled. “Look at history, kid. Winter never kills war, just encourages a break for both sides to prepare to get back to it once the snows clear.” He shrugged, as if stretching before a marathon. “It’s not all hopeless, though. We’re in talks with the Canadian government. They were hoping for our help driving the blockheads out of western Canada, but obviously that’s impossible as things stand. As an alternative they’re talking about sending troops down to help us retake the eastern states, in exchange for the US ceding them some of that territory.”

Lewis whistled. “That’s a steep price to pay for a bit of military aid.”

“It’s not exactly like we hold the area anymore,” the captain replied sourly. “And there’s also the fact that the Canadians are being a bit… insistent. They know nuclear winter is going to be bad for them, up north where they are. They want to send a lot of their civilians living in the cities, the people they know are going to have the hardest time surviving extreme conditions, down south where the winter won’t be so harsh. In fact, some reports say they’ve already started sending settlers to the northernmost states.”

The older man snorted. “They’re calling it a “benevolent occupation”. Taking the territory, but also bringing aid to the remaining US citizens they find and letting them keep their land and possessions, as well as offering them full Canadian citizenship.”

That was certainly news. This was the first Lewis was hearing about any of this. “At least they’re honest about it, not calling it “relief efforts” like the Gold Bloc did.”

Griggs nodded. “It could be way worse. If they’re going to take some land we can’t hold anyway, we may as well call them allies and keep things amiable. General Lassiter and General Erikson are strongly considering coordinating with the Canadians to drive out the blockheads, and possibly even loaning them some of our troops for the next few years to help hold the eastern States and look out for the interests of the occupied US citizens.”

“Awfully generous.” Lewis glanced sidelong at the captain. He couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a much better reason for Canada to move south that the man wasn’t telling him about. Specifically, the fuel refineries the US had been trying to build in time to stave off the fuel crisis, which had ultimately wasted a lot of necessary resources without ever being completed.

Those refineries had been planned for somewhere back east, although the government had been vague about their specific location to deter further attacks. It was possible Canada was trying to gain possession of them so they could complete construction, then begin refining the vast reserves of crude sitting around up there that their own limited refining capabilities couldn’t handle.

It wasn’t all that helpful for the remnants of the US, but it wasn’t terrible either. Better someone was producing fuel than nobody, and vastly better the Canadians than the blockheads. If Canada succeeded in getting refining going on a major scale that could be a critical step towards rebuilding, and as long as they were willing to trade with the US that would help get both countries back on their feet.

Just as important as survival, it would make them both stronger when it came to dealing with the remaining Gold Bloc threat.

Griggs abruptly straightened with a sigh. “Well, we appreciate your service bringing this to our attention. If you’re with a group you’ll probably want to get back to them.”

That was a pretty obvious dismissal, but Lewis didn’t really mind. He did want to catch up to the others. “Before I go, on behalf of Aspen Hill I was wondering if there’s anything we should be aware of when it comes to protecting ourselves.”

The captain gave him a thoughtful look. “Are you down in the valley east or west of the mountains, where raiders can get to you by road?” Lewis shook his head. “Then you should be fine. They’ve been keeping to their vehicles, staying mobile with lightning quick strikes. But you can also reassure your people that we’ll be redoubling our efforts to secure our territory and prevent any further raids.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lewis offered his hand, and after exchanging a firm handshake he grabbed his bike and headed back up the road.

So much for a pleasant and productive outing.

Chapter Five

Night Terrors

Riding the backroads home had the potential to be confusing, since they passed quite a few branching trails and roads and didn’t know the right route, but in the end it turned out to be pretty straightforward.

For one thing up in the mountains where they were the ATV trail they started out on could only go one direction, the same as the highway itself. And when they took the first road heading south that looked like it was going anywhere through the hills, it turned out to take them all the way through and into the valley not far north of Aspen Hill’s ruins.

Lewis caught up to them not too long after that, to everyone’s relief, and briefly described his talk with Captain Griggs and the news of the world at large. Together they made their way up Aspen Hill Canyon, walking their bikes more often than riding. Thanks to the unexpected delay, the slower route, and the fact that they didn’t manage the same pace as Lewis and Jane had on their previous outing, not to mention having to once again pick their way over the collapsed cliff, the trip had ended up taking a lot longer. It was almost dark by the time they topped the eastern ridge overlooking new Aspen Hill’s valley.

Irrational as his fears for the town where, Trev was still relieved to see it was undisturbed. His imagination had produced a few awful images of blockhead raiders descending on the valley in the hundreds, even with the town as far from any road the enemy could easily reach as it was.

On the way down Lewis motioned for Trev to speed up to coast alongside him. “I’m going to see all the kids home and have a talk to their parents about what happened,” his cousin said, grimacing. “I doubt they’ll be too happy, but I’ll own up to the bad decision to bring them along.”

Trev nodded. “Me and Deb will report in to Matt about what happened. See you at home.”

Calling back to the brown-haired woman, Trev stopped braking and let gravity speed his descent. Deb was soon right behind him, and together they turned onto the gravel trail and made their way into town.

To his surprise Deb peeled off when they passed the shelter group houses, heading to her home without a word of explanation as he continued on to the town hall tent. Trev could only shrug, surprised that she hadn’t stuck to his side like usual but deciding not to pursue the issue, and parked his bike beside the entrance to head inside. He nodded as he passed the defenders stationed there, on rotating duty at all hours to guard the town’s surplus supplies and whatever food the citizens had put under their protection.

Matt was inside with Trev’s uncle Lucas, Ben, and Catherine. “Trev!” his friend called, hurrying over. “Where’s Lewis? Lucas and Ben just got back from the refugee camp with a list of potential people to interview about joining the town.”

“That was fast,” Trev replied, letting the tent flaps fall to keep the interior warm. Near the end of August, but the nights were already getting chilly. He didn’t like what that meant. “I thought it would take longer to round up people who could be useful without letting the cat out of the bag.”

Lucas smiled wryly. “Well it turns out when you give someone a chance at a good thing, like an invitation to a peaceful town that’s pretty prosperous under the circumstances, they don’t want to ruin it by blabbing it to other people who might want in. We were able to find some exceptional people who could point us to more potential recruits, and before we knew it we had 50 refugees to interview. They’ll be hiking in day after tomorrow, for the offer of a free meal even if they don’t make the cut.”

Trev couldn’t bring himself to smile back as he finally got to his news. “Lewis is seeing the kids all home safely. He sent me to tell you what happened.”

That got their attention. “What do you mean?” Catherine demanded. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’re all fine, but we did run into trouble.” He briefly explained what had happened, starting with talking to the refugees on the way to the battle front, then hearing the sounds of fighting and investigating and what he and Lewis had seen. He also described Grigg’s news of the world and Lewis’s thoughts about what it might mean for them and everyone else.

When he was finished there was a brief, grim silence. “Blockheads raiding, huh?” Matt said after a few seconds. “I think that settles your question of bringing in the wounded and disabled veterans.”

“For or against?” Trev asked.

“Definitely for.” His friend sighed. “Even if they’ll have some hurdles to overcome, they’re experienced soldiers and should be able to help out. That sort of professional training and experience will put them miles ahead of most of our defenders in spite of any disabilities, just in case raiders do come around again.”

Trev nodded at the logic. “How many do you think the town can take in?”

Matt glanced at the other town leaders, who all nodded. “We were considering taking in 50 people total, between the refugees and the veterans. So however many refugees we take, that’ll determine the number of veterans.”

“But you invited 50 people to be interviewed,” Trev pointed out.

Catherine nodded. “Our recruiting standards are rigorous, and we’ll definitely be weighing in the ability to hunt and fight in that. Even more rigorous now, when we might need the veterans more than whatever skills the refugees can bring.”

“All right.” Trev took a breath. “Let’s talk about security measures, then.”

The gathered leaders nodded and motioned for him to go on.

“First of all we’ll need to be more careful going out on expeditions,” Trev began. “I think with the blockheads gone and the military protecting the area we got a bit too complacent. Like that was all it took for things to suddenly be back to normal.”

Lucas laughed wryly. “I doubt that’s going to happen any time soon.”

“Secondly the town itself. The attack on those refugees may have been an isolated incident, and the military is definitely going to tighten security after this, but even so I’d suggest we also take added precautions securing the area. More sentries farther out, to give better advance warning of lightning raids where the enemy is in and out in minutes. I doubt a small group of raiders can throw anything at us we can’t handle, as long as we’ve got time to prepare, but we need to be certain we have that time.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Matt agreed. “But seriously, do you really think blockheads could get vehicles up here? They’d have to drive through half a dozen military emplacements and refugee camps in the mountains if they took the back roads, and Aspen Hill Canyon is blocked.”

“There are some spots they could trailblaze a path up into the mountains on ATVs, or even rugged trucks or SUVs,” Trev argued. “At the very least we should watch those. And while I doubt they’d risk abandoning their vehicles to sneak into the mountains on foot, we can’t rule out the possibility.”

His friend nodded. “Precautions never hurt. As long as we’re not taking too much manpower away from preparing to survive the winter. How many more people do you need?”

Trev had carefully thought it over. He would’ve liked more, but he’d shaved it down to the bare minimum for just the reason Matt provided. “One extra emplacement running 24 hours, split into however many shifts you want. I’d recommend six four-hour shifts. I’ll train the people taking the shifts on what areas to pay extra attention to, and what to look out for.”

As part of his duty leading the town’s defenders Trev had spent hours and hours scouting around the town, personally covering everything within a mile of the valley so he had a good idea of the terrain. He wanted to know the best places to put lookouts, as well as the best options for using the terrain against any enemy as well as preventing them from using it against the town.

Which was an important consideration, considering Aspen Hill was in a valley. If they didn’t take precautions an attacker could seize the high ground on two sides, not to mention controlling the only road leading past the town. Which would be disastrous.

They couldn’t just huddle up among the houses in an attack. They’d have to get out there and hold the ridges, or even directly attack their attackers if they wanted it to end well.

Matt chuckled. “Just one? No need to be stingy where our safety is concerned. We’ll give you that and also another person to patrol, for the time being.”

“All right, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Trev turned to leave.

Before he could Catherine called him back, motioning to the sheaf of papers in her hand. “You lead the town’s defenses, so your perspective on these recruits is important too. We want you on the interviewing committee. Come take a look at these resumes the refugees filled out and see what they have to offer.”

Trev bit back a groan. He’d had an early start and a long, difficult day, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. Instead he nodded and accepted the papers. “All right. Let’s start with the ones the rest of you like best.”

* * *

Trev started awake at a hand on his shoulder, staring blindly into the near complete darkness of his family’s cabin.

“Huh?” he whispered in near panic. Being awakened from bad dreams of blockhead attacks would do that.

His dad’s voice answered, equally quiet. “Deb’s at the door, asking for you.” He hesitated, then continued. “She’s, ah, very distraught.”

Nodding, although his dad probably couldn’t see it, Trev pushed aside his covers and stepped into his boots, then pulled his heavy overcoat on over the undershirt and basketball shorts he was using as pajamas in a single room cabin filled with five people and little privacy.

As he carefully picked his way towards the dim light coming from the door he sensed more than saw his dad heading back to bed. He hadn’t heard any knocking, but then again he’d been wiped out from the day he’d had and probably sleeping like a log. Nobody else seemed awake, although you never could tell.

Deb was a dark silhouette outside, sitting with her back to the wall next to the door and her knees pulled up to her chest. From the sounds of it “very distraught” might’ve been putting it mildly; gasping sobs escaped the brown-haired woman, the sort you couldn’t avoid when you were freaking out and doing your best to keep it under control.

Trev shut the door and crouched down beside her, starting to put a hand on her shoulder before he remembered her fragile state. He paused with it hovering a few inches away and spoke instead. “Deb?”

Even cut short, the comforting gesture was a mistake. She flinched away from him with a shuddering gasp, and for several seconds panted as she fought for control, the occasional sob breaking free. “S-sorry,” she finally stuttered. “I know it was selfish to come at this hour. I woke your dad up, and probably everyone else, and I woke you up, and—”

“Deb,” he cut in gently, lowering his hand and settling back on his heels. “It’s all right.”

She took a few more unsteady breaths. “I can’t be asleep right now,” she said dully. “Knowing we were only minutes away from, from them, that if they’d decided to keep coming up the road instead of turning back we might’ve ended up like those poor people, that I might’ve ended up back—”

The brown-haired woman cut off as her silhouette shuddered violently and another sob escaped. Trev heard a soft thump as she leaned her head back against the wall. “I feel terrible for waking you up, but I couldn’t be alone. I mean, I know there were all those women and kids sleeping around me and I wasn’t really, but they’re all strangers and it felt that way.” He caught the faint glimmer of her eyes as she turned to look at him, voice pleading. “Could, could you just sit with me for a little while?”

“Sure.” Trev settled down on the neatly arranged large rocks they were using for a step in front of the doorway, leaning back against the door. “Do you want to talk about our lives before the Gulf refineries attack?”

“Okay,” she said quickly. “Anything so we don’t have to sit in silence.”

“All right.” Trev shifted slightly to a more comfortable position. “Well you know I grew up in Aspen Hill. I mean not here but the blackened ruins we passed on our trip yesterday.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “But can you not talk about yesterday?”

Right. He was an idiot. “So anyway I lived there with my parents and Linda and Jim, and Uncle Lucas and Aunt Eva lived just down the street with Lewis and Mary. Me and Lewis are a lot older than our siblings, and our parents shared babysitting since my mom worked, so we were practically brothers growing up. Still are, really. I was enough older than Linda and Jim, and even Mary, that the line was pretty strongly drawn between sibling and someone to play with. I mean I love them, but we were never super close. Especially when I had to start babysitting them as a teenager when I wanted to hang out with friends.”

Trev paused, slightly worried about her silence. “How about you? Do you have siblings?”

Deb stirred just a bit. “I did. I might still.” The glimmer from her eyes vanished as she looked away. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Can you keep going? I-I like hearing your voice.”

“Okay.” Trev wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so he talked about small little details he remembered from growing up. Thinks like learning Mary’s humming was really a telltale about what she was thinking or feeling at the moment, and teaching Jim to play basketball for his junior team on the hoop in front of Lewis’s house, with their cousin often coming out to join them. How Linda had managed to make her way into the popular girl’s clique and how their house was often practically off limits to the rest of the family when she entertained guests, and how Trev prompted a shower of giggles every time he passed by where they hung out in the living room.

He spoke fondly of family outings, and frequent sleepovers with the cousins at their house or the Halssons’ so one or the other’s parents could go on a trip, and playing night games with the neighborhood kids in the summer. Fishing with Lewis and Lucas, and July and August nights spent camping up in the mountains eating hotdogs and s’mores and exploring every inch of the land his uncle owned up there.

There were a lot of memories, even ones that were minor irritations at the time that he could look back on fondly now. In fact, he remembered things he hadn’t thought of in years, especially not since the Gulf burned and his mind was filled with far more pressing thoughts of survival. It was nice in a way.

Deb was quiet through it all, aside from the occasional sniffle. He didn’t know if he was boring her or not, but every time he fell silent to let her speak, or asked her for some detail about her own life, she just told him to keep going.

Finally, after what felt like over an hour, during one of his silences her shadowy shape abruptly stood, looking down at him. “Thanks. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

Trev stood as well. “Do you want to sleep here tonight? We could make up a cot for you, or you could take mine and I’ll crash by the door. My family wouldn’t mind having one extra, and I could talk to them about you coming to stay with us in the morning. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”

Her soft laughter drifted through the darkness. “Easy there, cowboy. We haven’t even gone on a date and you’re already asking me to move in with you?”

He felt his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—”

“Duh,” Deb cut in teasingly. “Besides, being crammed in with your immediate family doesn’t exactly scream romance. I appreciate the offer, but let’s put that idea on the back burner, huh?”

“Sure,” Trev said, wondering what exactly that meant. At least her cracking jokes seemed to imply her spirits had improved. He watched as her shape flitted through the darkness to her cabin, heard the soft creak of a door opening and closing.

Then, a sudden massive yawn reminding him how exhausted he was, he shuffled back inside and collapsed into bed.

* * *

The next day Trev spent a lot of time setting up the new lookout position and patrol route and getting the new volunteers trained on what to look out for, as well as how to instruct the defenders who came to relieve them at the end of their shifts. Once that was done he hurried to finish all his other work and catch up on what he’d missed yesterday.

He had an idea. It wasn’t a good one, maybe, and it could be argued there were far better things he could be doing with his time, but he was going to take a page out of Lewis’s book and build an extension for his family’s house.

Nobody had ever claimed having extra living space was a bad thing, especially not in this case with how crowded they all were in there. And while Trev would’ve liked to say it was for his parents so they could have some room to themselves, the honest truth was that if he wanted to get married at some point he needed to have his own place, same as Lewis and Jane did.

There was an obvious connection to be made here with what had happened with Deb last night, but his mind refused to make it. It just made sense to have his own room, and now was the time to do it while he still could. He’d talked to his parents about the idea that morning, and they were fully on board and supportive of his reasoning, encouraging him to go for it.

Lewis had planned his own extension by building three more walls up against the western wall of his family’s cabin, which he intended to finish and roof over so it would basically be a separate cabin with a connecting wall and a door leading outside. Then, when he could, he’d begin the laborious process of cutting through the logs in the connecting wall for a second doorway to the main room.

That seemed like a good way to do it to Trev, so he began the same way. First off by marking off dimensions and deciding which direction the door would face. He settled on the same way as the cabin’s, for convenience.

His work drew immediate attention. His parents already knew about it, and Jim simply told him it was cool before running off to his own work, but Linda nearly had kittens when she saw what he was doing.

“You’re building a bedroom off the main room?” she asked eagerly. “Who’s it for?”

Trev didn’t blame her for being excited, considering how crowded their one room cabin felt with five people. Blanket partitions barely helped.

He felt his face flush with embarrassment as he answered. “Me.”

She gave him a surprised and slightly angry look. “You’re building it for yourself? What about Mom and Dad? What about me? That seems kind of selfish.”

It seemed fairly ludicrous for her to call work he was willing to do on his own selfish, just because it was for his benefit. But he saw where she was coming from. “Maybe. I’m looking ahead.”

Linda picked up on that fast. “Ooh!” she exclaimed, excitement returning. “For when you and Deb get married?” She said the word in a singsong voice. “Is that what you were doing with her all night, making out?”

His flush deepened, and he started to get annoyed. “No!” he snapped. “And keep it down! You know we, uh, that it’s complicated. I’m just planning ahead.”

His sister winked at him and tapped her nose conspiratorially. “Gotcha. Best of luck constructing your man cave.”

Trev shook his head as she nearly skipped away, getting back to work.

Before too long he was heading off in search of trees to cut down. The valley had plenty of those, and the mountain slopes all around them had even more, but with so many people constructing houses and gathering firewood it was getting to be a longer and longer walk to find suitable ones for building. Especially since there were far more unsuitable trees that weren’t the right type, or weren’t straight enough or long enough or thick enough. There was also the fact that even with Matt’s best efforts to preserve the trees good for building for that purpose, the woodcutters going for firewood tended to cut down everything.

He borrowed Lewis’s sturdy wagon for the job, since it was strong enough to take the weight of one or more logs as long as he could get the balance right and lash them down properly.

On the way out of town Matt intercepted him to let him know Deb was looking for him, as well as to ask how the defenders at the new posts were doing. Trev had him send along a message to Deb that he was out cutting logs, and paused to radio the new guys and get a report.

That inevitably led to his friend asking what he was doing with the wagon, and Trev somewhat sheepishly admitted he was building a room on the cabin for himself.

Thankfully, if Matt drew the same conclusion Linda did he didn’t jump on it the way she had. “Taking a page from Lewis’s book, huh?”

Trev nodded. “Kind of too bad I wasn’t here during the original building, or we could’ve done what your family did.”

The Larson clan had basically built three tiny nooks, for Terry and April and their boys, for Ed and Mona, and for Matt and Sam, that were just big enough for a bed (two beds for the Lynns) and specifically for sleeping, and had connected them to a larger central space where they could cook and spend their time. It was actually a fairly smart design Ed had thought up, where the beds were all turned sideways and the rooms were blocked off by reasonably soundproof partitions rather than doors. During the day, whenever there was no need for privacy, the partitions could be moved so the beds could double as places to sit or lounge.

It had taken a lot of work, but the end result was a much better arrangement for three couples.

“It’s been working out pretty well,” his friend agreed. He hesitated, glancing back towards town, then sighed. “We’ve all got more things to do than hours in the day, but I think I can spare an hour or two to help you get started.”

Trev blinked, surprised and touched by the offer. “You don’t have to do that.”

Matt gave him a slightly lopsided grin. “I’ve got a good idea of how long it’ll take you to do it on your own, and how much easier and faster a lot of jobs can be with two people. I also know you’ve been helping your cousin with his room on top of all the other houses you’re helping to build. Besides, Gutierrez was a good reminder of how much it can hurt to feel like you’re on your own without any helping hands.”

Truth be told Trev really could use the help. He grinned back. “Thanks, seriously. I probably can’t spare much more than that either, especially with our interviewees coming tomorrow, but we’ll see what we can get done.”

“That’s the spirit,” his friend clapped him on the back, and together they headed for the nearest stand of trees.

Chapter Six

New Neighbors

Watching the crowd of dirty, emaciated people in ragged clothes coming down the hill towards town, it was hard to picture them as a benefit to the town rather than an extreme liability. Just looking at them made Matt feel hungry, and he’d recently eaten lunch.

Or maybe, in spite of his frugal portion, it made him feel extremely overfed considering the alternative. He’d experienced more than his fair share of serious hunger last winter, trying to get by on what had been in the cache Trev gave his family. And it was almost certain he’d be facing more of that before this winter was through.

And the town was going to welcome in dozens of these beggars to make their situation even worse.

Not beggars, Matt, he had to remind himself. As bad off as they looked it was easy to forget these were all experienced doctors, engineers, skilled craftsman, farmers, hunters, and even a few retired veterans of wars overseas. And most importantly for him there was an OB/GYN among them, who he desperately hoped was well qualified.

He stood with the town’s interviewing committee, which was made up of him and his mom Mona, Trev, Lucas, Catherine and her daughter Tam Raymond, Chauncey, Ben, Terry, and lastly Carol Clarkson, an energetic woman in her thirties who for months now had been supervising the labor of the women in need who worked for food from the town’s stores.

A small crowd of gawkers had gathered to watch the approaching group, murmuring thoughts similar to Matt’s own, although generally less complimentary. The townspeople’s response to Lewis’s idea had been lukewarm at best, with the biggest concern being food. Then again, even the most ardent critics had a hard time arguing against training and experience the town was lacking and desperately needed, such as in obstetrics.

They greeted the refugees and escorted them to a pavilion they’d set up for their visit, where the promised meal waited. The idea was to let them eat and then have Lewis, Rick Watson, and a few others give them a tour of the town, while they pulled people out one at a time to interview them and get clarification on the skills they’d listed on their resumes.

Matt felt a bit bad that Lewis had been relegated to tour guide even though this was his idea, although his friend didn’t seem to mind. As for Rick, Matt had barely seen him the last few weeks. Chauncey’s sons had been working almost nonstop to take care of their family, Rick doing the lion’s share of the work with whatever help Wes could offer. With their dad crippled and so often occupied manning the radio on behalf of the town the responsibility fell on their shoulders.

That family would soon include Alice Thornton, who would be marrying Rick a week from now. They’d planned an informal outdoor event with the whole town invited, for dancing and sports and games. Matt was looking forward to it, as much because the town needed reasons to rest, relax, and celebrate as because he was happy for his friends.

As the refugees got started on their meal the committee invited the first potential recruit into the log cabin that served as the clinic, where a collection of chairs had been assembled.

The first interviewee was a man about Matt’s age, or maybe a bit older, about six feet tall with a solid build. Beneath his medium length sandy blond hair he had the sort of movie star type features that tended to draw a woman’s interest. Judging from the way the eyes of several of Aspen Hill’s young ladies followed him as he was ushered inside, Matt had a feeling he knew one refugee they hoped would make the cut.

The man joined them at the circle of chairs, offering his hand first to Matt. “Robert Paulson. Thanks for this opportunity,” he said sincerely.

After brief introductions while the man shook everyone else’s hands Matt motioned for him to sit. “Let’s get some of the obvious stuff out of the way. First, do you have a criminal record?”

Robert looked a bit surprised, but shook his head. “No.”

“And you haven’t committed any serious crimes that have actual victims since the Gulf burned?”

At that the man’s surprise turned to confusion. “Actual victims?”

Matt felt his face reddening. He was going to have to revise that wording. “Under the circumstances I can’t really fault a starving person for raiding an obviously abandoned house or car, or looting a closed and abandoned business. And especially not for resorting to violence to defend yourself or your property. Aside from being hypocritical, that would exclude just about everyone.”

“Ah.” Robert nodded in understanding. “I’ve had to defend myself and my property a few times, and a time or two I’ve gone looking for food and necessities where owners were no longer around to protest, as it were. But for the most part I’ve tried to uphold the laws, even if they’re no longer being enforced. Everyone making the choice to live that way is the only way society survives.”

It was a good answer. “Do you have any outstanding debts we should know about?”

“Aside from a car loan and a gym membership?” Robert asked with a slight grin. “I doubt anyone’s going to collect on them, but in the unlikely event they do I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

His good humor was infectious, and several members of the committee couldn’t help but smile too. “You and everyone else,” Catherine replied. She glanced at Matt questioningly, and he nodded for her to go ahead. “Those are the main formalities, and we covered the rest in your resume. Unless there’s anything else you think you should add?” The man hesitated, seriously thinking and obviously not sure what was worth mentioning, then shook his head. “Let’s get to it, then. Tell us about your qualifications. You’re a furniture carpenter?”

Robert nodded, then hesitated. “As a profession? I mean, with mass production I’m not sure furniture carpentry is even a thing anymore. Aside from fixtures built during construction, that is. But I mean building something like a table to sell…” He trailed off, aware he was on the verge of babbling.

The former Mayor’s smile turned reassuring. “Why don’t you tell us about it?”

The man shot her a grateful look. “Carpentry was my dad’s hobby. He worked at it all his life, and by the end was really skilled. He made all the furniture in our house, and friends and visitors would often try to commission him to make something for them. Sometimes at a really good price, although he usually refused. He wanted to keep the work a hobby, and the most he’d bend on that was the occasional gift.”

Robert trailed off, looking pained for a moment as if remembering recent grief, then continued. “I was practically raised in his workshop, and worked on most of his projects with him. In the last few years I started making my own furniture, which I did sell where I could. The market for handmade furniture has been growing over the last few years, especially quality work that’s built to last. I was on my way to making a reasonable living before the world ended.”

“Well I’d say the market for handmade furniture has only gotten better, all things considered,” Matt said dryly. He leaned forward. “Let’s get right to the point. Aspen Hill could really use a skilled carpenter, but could you actually do carpentry work for us? Do you have the tools and skills for low tech work, without electricity or a workshop full of fancy equipment?”

To his credit the man didn’t become defensive. “We did use electric tools,” he said frankly. “But remember, this was my dad’s hobby. He had a great deal of respect for the profession as it’s been practiced through the ages, and he had all the tools to do every step of the work by hand. He taught me how to use those tools too, although I admit I’m not nearly as practiced with them.”

Robert hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Those tools are sitting in a wagon by the pavilion right now, being watched over by a friend,” he continued. “I realized their value after the Gulf burned, that they might be the only way I could make a living in a world without electricity or easy fuel. So I took them with me, and held onto them even when I went hungry and was tempted to sell or trade them.” He sucked in a determined breath. “So yes, I can actually do carpentry work for your town. I could get started today if you wanted.”

Matt gave a low whistle, impressed. No wonder the committee had rushed this guy through the list of candidates. Someone with not only skill in a highly useful profession but tools as well had to be one in a million. “And how about construction carpentry? We do have a huge demand for quality furniture, but right now we’re still working to put a roof over everyone’s heads and have to make that a priority. We need basic work done quickly, well, and that’ll last through the harsh winter we’re facing.”

The man smiled, with the confidence of someone who’s earned it. “Carpentry’s my business, I’ve done more than my fair share of construction work. Mostly detailed finishing on more upscale homes, but I usually got called by family and friends when they needed something done on their houses, too. And in my spare time if anyone who can afford to pay wants to commission a piece of furniture I’m happy to work long hours.”

Robert fell silent, waiting hopefully. Matt was sold, and he could tell the rest of the committee was as well. He spent a few more minutes getting specifics on what exactly Robert had made, and the committee quizzed him on carpentry knowledge as best they could with their own limited experience in the field.

Finally Matt stood, offering his hand again. “Thanks for coming in, Mr. Paulson. Going into this the committee agreed we wouldn’t make any snap judgments, so we’ll need to do some deliberating among ourselves, but I’d say your chances are very good. Hopefully we’ll be welcoming you to our town soon.”

The refugee shook his hand with a relieved grin. “Thank you. I know I can be useful, and I’m eager for the chance to prove it.”

“We’re looking forward to it, too.” Matt hesitated. “I hate to bring this up because I don’t doubt your honesty, but it needs to be said. If it turns out that you’ve mislead us about your qualifications, criminal history, or anything else that would be a severe detriment to the town, we reserve the right to expel you without condition. And you’ve also been informed of the town’s current laws on criminal activity?” Robert nodded. “Okay, just so you know. We want to protect your rights as a citizen, but those are things we have to be firm on.”

“I understand,” Robert actually looked more confident. “In a way that’s great. If I’m going to be a citizen here then the fact that you hold everyone to the same standard is as good for me as for everyone else.”

With a few final handshakes they led Robert back to the pavilion, chatting more casually along the way. There the carpenter went to check on his tools and get himself some food, while the committee searched for the next interviewee.

During that time Trev’s sister Linda pulled Matt aside, trying to appear casual. “So how did the first interview go with, um…”

“Robert?” Matt asked, amused. “Well. It looks like he’s a skilled carpenter. We’re probably going to invite him in.”

The young woman tried to hide how pleased she was at the news. “Oh okay,” she said, nervously playing with her long light brown hair. “And is Robert’s family coming, too?”

Matt held back a grin at the obvious intent of her question. “He’s single, coming here on his own.”

Just as he’d expected she broke into an eager smile at that, although she tried to hide it. “Cool. Well thanks, Matt.”

He shook his head as the young woman practically skipped away. She was still years away from being old enough to marry, and Robert was not only several years older than her but also a very eligible bachelor. The town’s new carpenter wouldn’t have any trouble finding a wife long before then.

Still, it was cute to see her so hopeful.

The next refugee they led into the clinic was a middle-aged man named Garret Langstrom. He’d worked as a trauma surgeon in an emergency room in Salt Lake City, and after the Gulf burned he’d had the foresight to carry his medical credentials with him when he fled with his family. Most of the other possessions he, his wife, and his young son had brought with them were gone by this point, but he’d wisely held onto those documents all this time.

Thanks to that he’d been snapped up by the military operating out of Hill Air Force Base, providing his services and in many cases training the staff who worked under him. It had kept his family fed last winter, and he’d been satisfied with the service he’d given.

When spring rolled around and news came about the Gold Bloc invasion, however, Langstrom and his wife had worried that a military base was a dangerous place to be. Unfortunately the surrounding area outside Hill Air Force Base’s control was also dangerous, with very few stable communities and raiders like Ferris and Turner’s group marauding unchecked.

After asking around he was able to find a community near Utah Lake, made up of a number of refugees from Antelope Island who’d fled south along the Jordan River after chaos broke out in the camp. The community had survived by lucky scavenging finds of food warehouses far removed from Utah Valley, which often had people guarding them.

The community folded those groups in, and the larger numbers allowed for better mutual defense against raiders. Like any community they were eager for doctors, especially ones trained in trauma surgery and emergency care. They gave Langstrom a generous offer, and he and his family gathered their few possessions and hitched a ride on a convoy heading south.

The family left only nine days before the Retaliation, and listened with horror along with everyone else to the accounts of a direct nuclear strike against their former home. Langstrom considered it an act of Providence that they’d gotten out in time.

Since then the community had been encouraged to relocate to the mountains where it was more defensible. Suddenly lacking prospects, Langstrom had joined up with the military again. That had worked well during the blockhead siege, and he’d saved a lot of lives. Then the blockheads left and the military packed up to chase them, and he was faced with a choice of going with them and either taking his family into danger or leaving them to an uncertain fate, or remaining behind and administering medical care in a refugee camp.

He’d chosen the refugee camp.

In spite of military promises and his value as a doctor, conditions had been poor there. Lodgings were bad, food was scarce, and Langstrom was deeply worried about hygiene in the camp. To add to that, with the blockheads gone people were starting to get restless; they wanted to leave, but not on their own.

What they wanted was for the military to give them a place to go, somewhere they could start building a new life and preparing for the winter. The military, lacking manpower and critically low on resources even with its windfall, could barely keep the camp operational. Violence began breaking out, and criminal activity in the camp exploded. In response the military began cracking down hard, enacting curfew and other restrictive measures.

Which left Langstrom massively overworked seeing to the burgeoning wounded, his staff thinning out as people abandoned their positions since they weren’t being compensated for their work, and his family suffering deprivation and in constant danger with their freedoms severely restricted.

“I don’t want to abandon the injured there,” he finished in a heavy voice, head down and eyes on his long, graceful hands folded on his knees. “But the situation was untenable. I’m not willing to let my family suffer if I can do anything about it. So when I heard that a town that was doing fairly well was inviting qualified people to join them, I decided it was the chance we’d been looking for.”

“You sound like just what we’re looking for as well,” Matt said, “but we’d like to ask some questions.” He motioned. “This is our current doctor, Terry Lynn. He’s already looked over your credentials and declared them more than impressive.”

Even though they’d already been introduced Terry offered his hand, and Langstrom shook again. “I was only an intern before all this, Doctor,” Matt’s brother-in-law said, almost apologetically. “I have only the utmost respect for your experience, but I need to ask you some specific questions regarding your qualifications.”

“I understand,” Langstrom said gravely.

Terry may have been thrust into being the town doctor when it was all over his head, but he’d risen to the task as well as he was able, and saved lives. And now that he was being faced with replacement or at least demotion by a skilled surgeon, he rose to this task as well. He’d carefully thought out his questions, and presented them respectfully.

Most of it was hard for Matt to follow, a shockingly long list of surgical procedures Terry wanted to know if Langstrom had previously performed or could perform, as well as his statistics for complications during operations or in post-op recovery.

But some things were easier to understand. Like Langstrom’s experience in low-tech surgeries since the Gulf burned, and how well the surgeon thought he could operate with limited supplies and in poor conditions, without the aid of any of the usual equipment found in hospital operating rooms.

It turned out Langstrom had a wry sense of humor to go with his experience and skill. “You want to know how well I can cut a person open while blindfolded and using a butter knife?” he asked. “Or if I can suture him up with yarn and a knitting needle afterwards?”

Terry smiled wanly. “In a matter of speaking.”

The surgeon sat back, drawing a deep breath. “I’ve performed hundreds of surgeries of all kinds since the Gulf refineries attack. I’ve operated under the worst of conditions, using improvised tools sometimes.” Pain crossed his features, the pain of failure with disastrous results. Matt understood that pain himself. “I did the best I could. The operations didn’t always turn out well, and I learned some hard lessons. If you’re asking about statistics, I’m afraid mine became far, far worse after the world collapsed around me.”

“Understandable,” Terry said sympathetically. He also understood that pain.

Langstrom straightened. “But I’m ready to make the best of any situation, and do the finest job I can with whatever I’m given. I’ll pull my weight in this community, and provide more than enough value to make up for the resources my family needs.”

That seemed to conclude the interview. There were a few more handshakes all around as they headed back out for the next interviewee. That would be Langstrom’s wife Bernice: if the surgeon was invited in, which was almost certain, then of course his family would be too, and his services would more than make up for the added resources consumed.

But as Lewis had suggested, if possible the ideal situation was for the family members to also have useful skills. The Langstroms’ young son Bryce couldn’t reasonably expected to contribute much at his age, but Bernice’s hobby before the Gulf burned had been sewing and quilting, and before her marriage she’d been a grade school teacher. Not vital skills, maybe, but they could definitely aid the community.

On the way out the surgeon pulled Matt aside. “I referred members of my staff from camp for recruiting that are here as well, but not everyone was invited. Your interviewing process seems rigorous, so I’m guessing some of them probably won’t make the cut either.”

Matt nodded. “We appreciate the recommendations, but while doctors are always valued our resources are limited. We have to prioritize specific specializations like your trauma surgery, dentistry, and a couple others.” He looked at the man’s slightly uncomfortable expression. “Was there someone you wanted to make it?”

Langstrom nodded. “Ideally everyone, of course. They’re all friends and trusted colleagues. But my main concern is Margaret Johnson, who’s my wife’s good friend. She’d be crushed if Maggy had to go back to the camp.”

The name made Matt relax a little. “Well the town also has a serious need for OB/GYNs. While I make no guarantees, just as we still haven’t agreed on accepting your family even though your chances are almost certain, I can safely say your wife and her friend probably won’t be separated.”

The older man relaxed too, and smiled. “Thank you for the reassurance. Dr. Johnson really is one of the most qualified OB/GYNs I know, with decades of experience in childbirth and numerous house calls.”

Matt felt a surge of relief. He’d read Dr. Johnson’s resume, of course, but it was much better to hear from a reliable source, which Langstrom seemed to be. “I am very, very glad to hear that.”

The surgeon noticed Matt’s expression and seemed to make the connection. “Ah. Your wife?”

“Not just my wife,” Matt said, trying not to sound defensive. “But yes, she’s due in a couple months.”

The older man clasped his shoulder for a moment in understanding. “She’ll be in good hands, you have my word on it.”

Matt nodded gratefully. “Thanks.” He nodded out the door, where the committee was waiting. “Speaking of wives, we’re looking forward to meeting yours and getting acquainted with her. And you’re probably ready to eat.”

* * *

Trev felt like a third wheel during most of the interviews that took place over the next few hours. He had a few questions to ask about fighting experience, of course, but most of these refugees were being brought in for other skills besides combat experience and marksmanship.

From what he could see most of the potential recruits were exceptional people who tended to have a full college education and/or extensive medical schooling. They’d been picked out by Lucas and Ben from among thousands, not only for their skills but also for their integrity and hardworking nature. Most tended to be older, in their late twenties at least, since a formal education combined with work experience in their field took some time to gain. But there were some exceptions.

One of the applicants, a lovely woman in her early 20s named Hailey Nelson, had roughly the same level of education as Trev. Her draw for the town was that she’d grown up in a family that raised goats. They’d processed the milk into homemade cheese, soap, kefir, and yogurt, which they’d made a modest business of selling to satisfied customers. They’d also butchered excess animals for meat and made rugs out of their hides. More importantly, they’d harvested and woven goat fibers, and Hailey’s resume spoke to her skill working with wool as well.

Her knowledge of what could be done with the animal products was far more extensive than the Watsons’, who’d mostly just bottled the milk and slaughtered the animals. She’d also personally assisted with every task involved with the family business, including preserving the meat and making the rugs, as well as assisting with kidding and tending sick animals.

After quizzing her on her practical skills Chauncey was very enthusiastic about inviting her in. Being able to process and store what the goats and sheep produced long term would be important, especially in the summer when refrigeration wasn’t available. And it was better to know how rather than resorting to trial and error, even if Lewis had books on the techniques to help out.

Hailey’s family had raised other animals at various points as well, similarly doing their best to get the most out of what they produced, and that was another plus. They’d also had an extensive garden, including seasoning and medicinal herbs, and being from Gunnison she was familiar with raising plants in the dry, poor soil of this area.

Although the young woman’s skill set wasn’t quite as vital as, say, Dr. Langstrom’s, she seemed earnest and hardworking. It also helped sell her case that her family had been killed in the chaos and her situation in the refugee camp was very tenuous. With none of her skills useful in that setting she’d helped with the camp’s cooking, using her knowledge of edible plants in the area and her family’s frugal spending habits to make decent meals with what was available. Still, she seemed desperate to get out and find something more stable.

Other applicants ranged from a dentist to a professional farmer to an OB/GYN with decades of experience in childbirth who Matt immediately threw his support behind. In the end Trev and the rest of the committee settled on 22 people to invite into the community, all of whom they were satisfied had far more to contribute to the town than the resources they’d require.

With the decision made they returned to the pavilion, thanking those who hadn’t made the cut and wishing them a safe trip back to the refugee camp. The rejected applicants were all disappointed, of course, and many complained bitterly about being led on, but none tried to start any trouble.

After the other refugees started on their way home Matt faced the group of new Aspen Hill residents. “For those of you who still have possessions or family waiting back at the refugee camp, we have a handcart we can send to help you bring them back. As for lodgings, we’ve found people willing to take you in temporarily until enough houses can be built for everyone. Is there anything you need to know right now?”

There was a bit of hesitation as the group tried to figure out what qualified as an urgent question, which lasted long enough to indicate no one had any. Matt smiled. “In that case welcome to your new home.”

There were some cheers at that, from the former refugees as well as the townspeople, and then the two groups began mingling as the new townspeople were introduced to the families who’d be taking them in, as well as to their new neighbors.

As part of the committee as well as leader of the town’s defenses Trev felt it was his responsibility to go around personally shaking hands with all the new residents. They all thanked him profusely, much to his embarrassment. Especially Hailey, who held his hand longer than was strictly necessary and told him she hoped for a chance to get to know him better.

Trev noticed that Deb, waiting nearby as one of the defenders he’d assigned to unobtrusively watch the pavilion in case of trouble, glared at that. To reassure her he immediately went over to ask her how things had gone while he’d been interviewing everyone.

While the brown-haired woman reported on the afternoon’s events, Trev noticed that Matt had immediately singled out Margaret Johnson and was ushering the OB/GYN away. Presumably to give Sam a much needed checkup and reassure himself that the pregnancy was going smoothly.

Within fifteen minutes the impromptu party started to die down as everyone got back to work and the new residents dispersed to their temporary homes to settle in. Trev expected that would include baths and laundry, and hopefully even new clothes in better condition than their current rags, gifted from those with plenty to spare.

Rick came around to chat with him and Deb for a while. Apparently while giving his tour of the town to the applicants, the younger man had invited anyone who was asked to stay to come to his wedding.

“How are you and Alice doing, anyway?” Trev asked. “I’ve barely seen you around lately.”

His friend grinned. “Great. We’ve just both been super busy. Alice and my mom have been getting ready for the wedding, while I’ve been working hard to make sure our married life is comfortable.” He glanced between Trev and Deb. “On a completely related subject, Trev, I hear you’re making a bachelor pad for yourself.”

Trev did his best to hide his embarrassment. Deb knew about his building project, but they hadn’t really talked about it. Also where had Rick “heard” that?

“Yeah, I’ve started on an extension to the cabin,” he admitted. “Although at the rate I’m going it’ll be done by Christmas if I’m lucky.” He glanced at the pavilion, which was now nearly empty. “Speaking of which, I’m going to get in touch with the lookouts to make sure the refugees are well on their way, then I’ll probably get back to work on it.”

Rick nodded. “Sounds like a plan. There’s always more venison to smoke and acorns to gather.”

They parted ways, Deb walking beside Trev as he briefly contacted the lookouts. Once he was finished the brown-haired woman glanced at him sidelong. “So I guess once you finish your room we’ll have a place to hang out when we’re not working, huh?”

“Yeah.” Trev cleared his throat. “Or, you know, if I’m busy doing something and you need some peace and quiet you’re welcome to hang out there yourself.”

She gave him an odd look, and he wondered if the off the cuff offer had come off as weird. “Sure, okay.” She glanced up at the sun. “My shift’s starting soon. Good luck building.”

He waved her off as she started for the eastern ridge and her lookout position on that side. She had the late afternoon to dark schedule, when Trev was usually busy helping with house building. Or, in this case, building his own.

To his surprise Lewis was already there when he arrived, smoothing the logs Trev and Matt had brought in yesterday. They’d already limbed them but the hasty job had left stubs, sometimes no more than an inch long, from the thicker branches. His cousin was shearing those off, as well as any spots where the bark protruded too far.

“Hey thanks for the help,” Trev said, grabbing an axe to start notching the logs to be fitted together.

Lewis shrugged. “It’s the least I can do after all the help you’ve given me with my own room.”

They talked a bit about the new townspeople and their thoughts on them, then eventually fell into a companionable silence as they worked. They were nearly to the point where Trev would need to go out and get more logs when his cousin cleared his throat. “So Linda tells me you’re building this room for when you get married. Or actually she tells Mary, who tells Mom, who tells me.”

Trev’s hands were full of the last log they were lifting into place on a wall, or he would’ve slapped his forehead. “Of course she did.” He set his end in place and shoved it slightly to make sure it was steady. “I’m a bit embarrassed to have you helping me, or anyone for that matter, since I’m building it for myself.”

Lewis got out his knife and began dislodging bits of bark to help the logs fit together better. “Yeah, Linda thinks you should give it to her. Or at least your parents.”

He grimaced. “I still might, depending on how things go.”

That wiped the smile from his cousin’s face. “Right. How is, um, that going?”

It was uncomfortable to have to dance around what Deb had been through, and her continuing struggles to recover from it. Especially since everyone, with typical nosiness, seemed to be waiting for her to get over a traumatic life-changing event already so she and Trev could start ringing the wedding bells.

As it stood Trev wasn’t even sure she wanted that. Their bonding was mostly emotional, and hesitant at that. She rarely so much as touched his arm, and all physical contact was from her to him; with him tiptoeing around her issues he literally avoided touching her with a ten foot pole.

Sometimes he felt frustrated at the situation, and guilty for being frustrated. He was willing to give her all the time and support she needed, however she needed it, and he didn’t complain about that. But it was fair to acknowledge that it was also hard on him, wasn’t it?

His silence seemed to have been answer enough for Lewis, who cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right. Well anyway you’re going to have to hold off on this project for now.”

Trev blinked. “I’m using my free time, little of that as I have.”

“Yeah, well even so it’s more of a luxury project when there are plenty of things we need to do just for survival.”

“Like what? I’m stocking up on food for the family as well as anyone.”

His cousin gave him a pained look, as if asking him why he was making this difficult, then got straight to the point. “I’ve been talking with Matt. All the animals in the community are going to need shelter, and since we’ll be building shelter for the town’s livestock anyway he’s agreed to make it communal. Everyone who has animals can house them there, as long as they help with the barn’s construction and gathering fodder.”

Lewis gestured idly at the shelter group’s animal pens. “We’ll be putting the rabbits and chickens in there too, since the natural heat of the animals will make it a good spot. And having all of them together will make things simpler and more comfortable for doing chores, as well as making it easier to guard them.”

Trev nodded slowly. “Okay. I still don’t see what that has to do with me, though. You guys all got your animals while I was gone.”

That drew another pained look. “Yeah. Well the thing is there aren’t actually that many people in town with livestock to house, and a barn is a big project.” Trev gave him a flat look, and Lewis hastily continued. “Which is why Matt’s promised to give anyone who helps out a lamb or kid from the next ones born.”

In spite of his slight cantankerousness that drew Trev’s attention. A dairy goat was a pretty tempting offer. Although he wasn’t sure if it was worth the labor of helping construct a barn. “A doe?”

His cousin sighed. “Everyone’s asking for does. But in this case, all things considered, Matt will probably agree. Which is lucky for you, since so far the only other person he’s thinking about guaranteeing a doe to is Robert, and the guy’s a skilled carpenter.”

“I’m getting paid as much as a skilled carpenter,” Trev repeated doubtfully.

“Well no. He’s going to promise Robert the first twins born that include a doe, which could mean two does or a doe and buck.” Lewis gave him a pleading look. “Come on, the shelter group needs that barn. We’ve got a good chunk of the town’s livestock between all of us. I promise if you end up doing more work than a goat’s worth, I’ll make it up by helping you build your hopefully-not-for-long bachelor pad.”

Trev sighed. “You’re all going to just keep assuming I’m building this so I can marry Deb, aren’t you?” His cousin just shrugged, smiling slightly, and he sighed again. “All right, let’s go build a barn.”

Chapter Seven

Newly Wed

The 28 injured veterans Aspen Hill had agreed to take in arrived the day before Rick and Alice’s wedding, brought by Corporal Bryant in a troop transport and a medical truck.

There were 27 men and a woman, all under the age of 30. Six of them were still bedridden recovering from serious but non-crippling wounds, while the others were either amputees, had suffered injuries severe enough that they’d lost the full use of their limbs, or had other injuries rendering them unfit for combat. The woman, a young private named Carrie Grant, had been blinded in one eye by shrapnel that had also seriously scarred that side of her face. Another private named Nick Davis (no relation to Sergeant Ethan Davis), had been deafened by mortar fire close to his emplacement.

Lewis knew it was a bit cynical to think, but he was relieved to see that the veterans didn’t seem nearly as helpless and unable to care for themselves and contribute to the community as he’d expected. But at the same time it wasn’t completely cynical, because what was good for the town was good for veterans as well, and vice versa. Ultimately it meant they had the ability to provide for themselves and prosper with the rest of the town.

Most of them had brought their service rifles and sidearms with them, and still had the capacity to use them. The six seriously injured would hopefully recover fully. Only four of the veterans had some or all of a leg amputated, and of them two had already been fitted with basic prosthetics that allowed them limited mobility. Three others had lost a hand or part of an arm. Several were there because they’d lost fingers or toes, or for one man a thumb.

The town gave them a hero’s welcome. The same pavilion as before had been set up and a huge (under the circumstances) meal prepared with some of the best food available. The veterans were given their space, but also received an endless stream of townspeople who came by to introduce themselves to their new neighbors and briefly thank them for their service.

After the meal the veterans were shown to their new homes. Houses were being constructed for them, but like with the refugees for the moment they’d been welcomed in with families. Lewis’s own family had offered to take in three; Lewis and Jane would move back into the main room for now so the veterans could share the extension. And the women from Jane’s group had welcomed Carrie into their cabin, which was now quite crowded with Deb in there as well.

Those still recovering from injuries had been moved into the clinic, and Dr. Langstrom had moved in to care for them at all hours while his family stayed with another family. And Terry, April, and Sam had committed to being there as often as possible to lend a hand.

With so much to do the welcomes were a bit truncated as everyone got back to work. Those veterans who were fit enough joined in, helping with a variety of projects or seeing to settling into their new home.

For Lewis, Trev, Matt, and several others, the immediate project was the barn. The chilly nights were only going to get worse, and even though it was only the beginning of September and winter still had to be months away the nuclear winter effects put all that into question.

Better safe than sorry, and do anything that couldn’t be done after the snows fell as soon as possible.

As might be expected, building a barn was a far, far bigger project than building a cabin. Especially since they planned for a loft to store fodder. Even with as seemingly few animals as the entire town possessed the combined livestock would still take up a lot of space, and it would be wise to plan for more just in case. No telling when they might discover more abandoned animals running wild, or find opportunities to purchase some, and if nothing else they’d want to prepare for when their own herds and flocks expanded naturally.

All Lewis could say was thank goodness Robert was there now. Lewis had experience building smaller structures, but something like this required real experience to prevent major mistakes that they might not notice until during the late stages of construction, which would be a disaster. With the carpenter’s help they’d drawn up a simple but solid design, and under his supervision had all got to work. Even after less than a week they had a solid beginning on it, and he was confident another week or two at most would see the job done.

Rick was one of those helping with the construction. Pete Childress had left his ewe to Alice after he disappeared during the fight against the blockheads, so the couple had their own investment in the barn.

As they worked shoulder to shoulder on the project Rick endured a bit of good-natured ribbing about nervousness for tomorrow’s upcoming nuptials, as well as early congratulations and well-wishes. He accepted both with good grace, giving as good as he gave with the banter.

“Seriously though,” Lewis told him during a water break, “nobody’s surprised if you’re a bit jittery. It’s a big day.”

“Says the guy who got married without telling anyone for weeks,” Rick shot back with a grin.

Lewis tapped his canteen to his forehead to concede the point.

“But I really don’t have any doubts,” his friend continued. “We went through hell together fighting the blockheads, and that sort of thing cements your convictions. I can’t imagine having anyone else beside me through whatever life tosses our way.”

Considering his and Jane’s own experiences Lewis knew exactly what Rick was talking about. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and they got back to work.

Chopping logs was always one of the biggest parts of any building project, aside from the stick-and-mud huts. While Lewis and Trev were out on another run, ranging much farther from town to find trees big enough for a structure like the barn, his cousin looked around at the expanse of stumps. “We’re going to have to be more sustainable going forward,” he said.

Lewis nodded. He’d already thought about that quite a bit, but unfortunately starting a tree nursery for saplings to replant involved more time and effort than they could spare. At his recommendation Matt had made it town policy for woodcutters to find any saplings growing too closely together in the wild to relocate where trees had been cut down, as well as relocating saplings that might be damaged by a falling tree.

It wasn’t much, and before too long the town would really need to dive headfirst into reforestation, but at the moment survival was a priority. Although at the rate the town was going maybe sooner rather than later would be better. “I’ll talk to Matt about it again.”

Trev seemed satisfied with that, and changed the topic. “So how was your excursion a couple days ago gathering windshields and windows from cars with Trent?”

Lewis grimaced. It had been a surprisingly difficult and tricky process removing the safety glass without damaging it, then hauling the significant weight back to town. By the end of that day’s run he was exhausted and a bit frustrated, more than happy to leave the business to Trent if his friend chose to pursue it.

“It wasn’t the most enjoyable outing,” he admitted. “But we got a decent haul, and now I’ve got my share of the glass, which should be handy. I plan to use a few for mine and Jane’s room.” He grinned at his cousin. “And now’s as good a time as any to ask if you want any for the room you’re building.”

“Sure, that would be awesome.” Trev grimaced. “I’ll have to figure out if I have anything worth trading.”

“We can worry about that later.” Lewis pointed towards a decent tree and started over.

They got to work felling it. After about fifteen minutes of strenuous work Trev called a break, taking a gulp of water. As he handed his canteen over to Lewis he asked, “How’re you doing finding what you need for reloading?”

Lewis paused from hydrating for a moment to move his hand in a “so-so” gesture. “I’ve got the tools locked down, and at a good price. I just need to go pick them up at some point. But I’m really drawing a blank on the smokeless powder and primers. Even the military prioritized ammunition over the components to make it when they were bringing stuff out here, which means they won’t be a source.”

“So basically you’re still nowhere,” Trev said with a grin.

“Reloading supplies are potentially a useful commodity,” he defended. “Eventually someone’s going to raid a factory, warehouse, or sporting goods store with some, and I’ve got half a dozen people promising me I’m at the top of their list if they get their hands on any.”

His cousin clapped him on the shoulder. “Well let me know if you need me to ride along with you to pick anything up.”

“Will do.” They got back to work, their idle chatter going back to their friends’ big event scheduled the following day.

The subject of the wedding didn’t just dominate conversation during the barn building. The ceremony was planned for tomorrow at noon in a meadow a stone’s throw from town, and that evening the Watsons and their friends took a break from other work to go out and prepare the spot. That involved building a simple platform, setting up the best decorations they could manage, arranging the chairs they’d begged and borrowed from neighbors, and laying out smoothed logs and stumps as additional seating.

The food arrangements were potluck, as most town gatherings these days tended to be. Everyone was invited, but it was very politely hinted that if you were going to eat, you’d better bring something to share as well. However, in the spirit of previous celebrations Matt was donating some powdered drinks from the town’s stores for everyone.

The preparations drew a crowd of volunteers happy to lend a hand, but since there were only so many things to do most just ended up watching and chatting with those who were working. It quickly became a celebration in its own right, and when people started bringing food around for their evening meals Sam suggested they make it a rehearsal dinner.

Since no formal dinner was actually planned for the wedding it was a bit unnecessary, and since it was unplanned it all went hilariously wrong. But everyone seemed to have a good time even so, most importantly Rick and Alice. When people dispersed for the night it was with great anticipation for the next day.

Lewis appreciated how the event was lifting the town’s spirits, and Matt definitely seemed pleased about it. He just hoped people were equally eager to get back to the necessary work once the celebration was over.

When he got back to the family cabin he remembered he’d moved his and Jane’s bed into the main room so their veteran guests could have the extension for now. That dashed any plans he’d had to see if his wife shared his celebratory mood.

On the plus side they all got a much needed early night.

* * *

Lewis felt honored that Rick had invited him to be a groomsman at the wedding, along with Trev, Gutierrez, Wes, and Chauncey. As a concession to Chauncey’s amputated leg they’d set up chairs for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to sit on. The display looked a little odd, but Lewis did have to admit it did a good job of focusing attention on the bride and groom.

Considering Rick was wearing a suit he’d nearly grown out of, he’d cleaned up pretty nicely. As for Alice, as she made her way down the aisle escorted by Chauncey (only a short distance as another concession to his limited mobility), the young woman looked radiant in an old but lovingly cared for wedding dress that fit her slim form surprisingly well, her long blond hair piled in elaborate braids atop her head.

She joined Rick in front of Matt, who’d agreed to officiate the marriage as Mayor, as Chauncey gratefully sank into his chair next to Lewis with a relieved sigh, massaging the tender flesh around the wooden prosthetic his son had made for him.

As the Mayor hesitantly but earnestly went through the ceremony the bride and groom held hands and eagerly rushed through their responses. If either of them felt nervous they didn’t show it, just happiness and excitement at the prospect of the life they were starting.

Watching them Lewis felt a bit sad that his and Jane’s own wedding had basically been eloping without going anywhere. He knew his wife had preferred it that way, and it definitely didn’t need to have been anything formal. Even this wedding, more casual and outdoors with the whole town invited, was a bit much for his tastes. But maybe just something small with family and a few close friends attending.

Then again, none of their family had been in Aspen Hill when they got married. Maybe things had gone the best they could under the circumstances.

But that slight regret aside Lewis was sincerely happy for his friends, and it was a good ceremony. The applause and cheering was polite but enthusiastic as the couple kissed for the first time as man and wife.

The reception pretty much began immediately after the ceremony ended. Lewis provided a decent digital camera so they could take couple and family photos, and he’d also volunteered to take pictures throughout the day. Although they didn’t have the equipment available to print the photos, at the very least he could transfer them over to his friends’ phones, which could be charged using the town’s solar panels, or the shelter group’s.

The line to congratulate the bride and groom circled around the meadow for over an hour, guests drifting between it and the potluck tables which had an equally long line. After getting in their own congratulations near the beginning Lewis and Jane wandered around, taking pictures and chatting with friends and neighbors. Or at least Lewis did, while his wife did her best to be present in a crowd that clearly put her on edge.

Children ran and played, darting around legs and roaming off up the slope above the meadow as far as they dared before parents called them back. A few of the teens led by Alvin and Wes started up some of the planned games early, tired of waiting for the adults to finish shaking hands and exchanging hugs.

As the eating and congratulations began winding down Chauncey got to work behind the sound system he’d rigged up, playing a classic song from the massive list Lewis had loaned him for the occasion so the couple could enjoy their first dance.

Alice had taken multiple dance classes growing up, and she’d obviously done a good job teaching Rick. They looked natural together, grinning ear to ear and unable to take their eyes off each other.

When the song ended they paused to more applause and cheers, along with Lewis snapping pictures. Then Chauncey began another song and couples flooded the dance area, packing it almost to the point where people were bumping into each other with every step. Nobody seemed to mind, and where there were collisions the response was usually laughter as opposed to complaints. Lewis kept to the periphery, taking pictures of the Watsons and their close friends for memories.

Although the current dance was a fast one Matt and Sam were dancing slow, holding each other close around her prominent belly. They seemed to be in a world of their own, enjoying the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves together when so often their responsibilities kept them apart for a lot of the day. They didn’t even seem to notice the occasional jostle.

Lewis was surprised to see that Robert, the town’s new carpenter, had convinced Mary to join him on the dance floor. He knew his sister loved to dance, but her shyness made it awkward so she usually only danced with someone she knew. That was usually him or Trev or one of their dads.

Not this time, though; Robert led the steps with easygoing confidence, whatever he was saying making her smile and even laugh once. By the time the dance ended he’d teased a bit of conversation out of her, and they chatted as they waited for the music to start for the next dance.

He noticed Trev and Deb out on the floor. They were doing that sort of awkward, dancing by yourselves next to each other thing that seemed popular in high school dances or at concerts. Lewis wasn’t sure if that was because it was what they preferred, or if they were still tiptoeing their way around the brown-haired woman’s difficulty with physical contact. Either way they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Lewis wasn’t the only one paying attention to the two. As he and Jane watched from the sidelines Hailey, the goat expert they’d invited into town, sidled up beside him. “So your brother and that girl,” she said out of the blue, “are they dating?”

Blinking, he glanced over at her. “Um that’s my cousin, actually. And not really, but they’re getting there.”

“Oh.” The girl looked embarrassed. “The way you two are around each other, I just figured…” She shrugged. “I guess “getting there” means he’s not available. Too bad.” She glanced around. “Any other suggestions for a partner? I love dancing.”

Lewis shared a somewhat amused look with Jane. Personally he was content to watch from the sidelines, since he’d never been a fan of dancing. And he knew Jane absolutely loathed it. Not the dancing itself; as far as he knew it was practically human nature that music encouraged people to want to move along with it. But she didn’t like the spontaneity and uninhibitedness it required to do in front of other people, and didn’t even want to make the effort. So it was hard to imagine going up to a near stranger to ask for a dance partner introduction.

Still, in the week Lewis had known Hailey, working with her a little with the town’s animals, he’d found her to be a sweet, lovely girl. If she wanted to be steered towards a good match he was happy to oblige.

“Come on,” he told her. “Let me introduce you to my friend Raul.”

Jane didn’t mind taking over snapping photos with Lewis’s camera while he led Hailey through the crowd, over to where Gutierrez was standing off a bit by himself. The former soldier was also intent on the dancing, although he didn’t seem as content about being on the sidelines as Lewis was.

“Raul!” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. “Have you met Hailey Nelson yet?”

Gutierrez looked over, and a bit of his sour mood faded away. “I think we said hello back when she first arrived,” he said, offering his hand. Hailey shook it without a trace of shyness.

“Well I seem to remember you’re a pretty good dancer, and Hailey was hoping to get out on the floor.”

His friend finally smiled tentatively. “Sure.” He offered the girl his arm, and she happily allowed herself to be led out into the press.

Lewis was fairly satisfied with the introduction, but as he was circling his way back around to Jane Linda caught him. “Smooth matchmaking, cuz,” she said with a grin.

He shrugged sheepishly. “She was looking for someone to dance with.”

“You do know the reason Raul was standing there was because he was waiting for Mary to finish this song so he could cut in, right?”

Lewis blinked. “What?”

His cousin rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. You haven’t noticed the guy has a serious crush on your sister? He keeps on trying to work up the nerve to talk to her.” She suddenly smiled mischievously. “Oh. Or is that why you steered Hailey his way?”

He looked at her in befuddlement. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Linda rolled her eyes again and grabbed his arm. “Well come on. I know Jane doesn’t want to dance, and Wes and Alvin keep sidling up trying to find an opportunity to ask me. Be my knight in shining armor and take me through a few waltzes so I don’t have to be a heartbreaker.”

Lewis allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at his cousin.

Gutierrez was interested in Mary, huh? He didn’t exactly have a problem with that, although the fact that the man had been in a relationship with Mandy Townsend wasn’t exactly a mark in his favor. At the same time Sam’s description of the way Gutierrez had broken up with that toxic troublemaker definitely made it easier to like him.

Besides, since the former soldier had defected from the raiders and joined the town’s defenders, then the volunteers, he’d become one of Lewis’s closest and most trusted friends.

Still, brotherly protectiveness and all. Especially where Mary was concerned, with her painful shyness. Lewis wasn’t about to get in a chest beating competition or anything, but he’d be on the fence about whether this was a good thing or not until he saw how his sister felt about it.

Until then it looked as if he’d been dragged into dancing with his cousin to dash the dreams of two fine young men. Happy as he was for Rick and Alice, this was exactly why he hated parties.

Maybe he didn’t regret the way he’d married Jane after all.

* * *

Trev bit back a yawn as he helped Mary move the fences of the shelter group’s animal pen to a new grazing location, the sheep still ambling around inside while patiently moving along with the light but sturdy barriers in a chorus of baas.

The sun was just rising over the ridge of the canyon’s eastern slope, but although he’d slept later than usual this morning and had done almost no work yesterday thanks to Rick and Alice’s wedding, he still felt exhausted.

Deb had interrupted his sleep again last night to sit with her. It had come as a bit of a surprise, considering how well things had seemed to be going at the celebration yesterday. But he supposed you never really could tell. Shivering in the cold, wanting to help her but not really knowing how or even if he could, he’d suggested she talk to someone, some sort of counseling. Only he wasn’t sure who in town could help with that, and had no answer when she’d challenged him about it.

It was kind of a shame that with all the professionals they’d invited in, they hadn’t thought to include a therapist who specialized in traumatic events. He supposed the committee’s thought process was that with so many immediate physical needs, any mental and emotional issues had to go on the back burner.

But at the same time there were a lot of people in town who’d suffered terrible loss or been through horrific hardship since the Gulf burned. A lot of people burying issues or handling them as best they could as they struggled to go about their daily lives.

Trev woke up from nightmares himself after his time fighting the blockheads, and still found himself flinching for cover and going for his gun at sudden loud noises. To be honest being woken up in the night, even gently, was something he could do without. It always came with a surge of heart-pounding adrenaline as he went from a safe, relaxed state to ready to fight for his life in an instant.

“I think that’s far enough, Trev,” Mary said. She’d already let go of her corner of the enclosure.

Trev jumped slightly and looked, and sure enough he’d dragged the pen a good ten feet farther than he’d needed to. “Whoops.”

His cousin gave him a concerned look. “Is there, um, that is, are you…” she trailed off awkwardly. Then, before she could think of a way to say whatever it was, she looked past him and abruptly flushed slightly and began humming.

Trev turned around and was relieved to see Gutierrez approaching, putting an end to any awkward conversation about how he was doing. “Morning, Raul,” he called.

“Hey Trev,” his friend answered, quickening his step to join them. He glanced at Mary and assumed the sort of stiff casualness that even an idiot could recognize. “Hey Mary,” he continued in a subtly different tone. Then he gave Trev a friendly nod that seemed to say, ‘Good to see you, man. Can I get some space here?’

“Oh hi, Raul,” the blond young woman said, looking flustered as she hastily brushed dirt that wasn’t there off her shirt and pants.

Trev bit back a smile as he moved over to pick up the animals’ water buckets to refill. As he did he watched the awkward tableau unfold as the two fumbled their way through a conversation without being too obvious that they were interested in each other.

Gutierrez did his best to look relaxed and confident as he searched around for suave things to talk about, obviously picking up on Mary’s social awkwardness that wasn’t doing his own nervousness any favors. For her part Mary was blushing and kept breaking into humming songs that were generally romantic, between shy responses.

Trev didn’t know whether to think the exchange was adorable or cringe his way right down to the center of the earth at being witness to it. “Hey, I’m going to go grab some water,” he said. He wasn’t sure if they responded as he made a beeline for the stream running through the canyon.

Mary and Gutierrez, huh? They could be good for each other, between her gentle nature and his competence and unwavering loyalty. Assuming they could get past awkward pleasantries.

Of course, judging by Robert’s obvious interest in Mary at the wedding reception last night, Gutierrez was going to have to hurry things up if he didn’t want competition. Then again, that might explain why he’d popped in to say hello this morning.

The stream that flowed down the canyon past town was a decent size, more than enough to meet everyone’s needs. Even so it was fairly shallow, so they’d deepened a few of the spots people frequented most into small pools to make gathering water easier.

Not bathing, though. Privacy considerations and water temperature aside, they were doing everything they could to avoid contaminating the water upstream of town and where it flowed past, all the way to a mile downstream of the last house. That included keeping latrines well away from the water, and doing any clothes washing farther down.

Of course they still needed to thoroughly purify the water before it was safe for consumption, and Chauncey had supervised rigging up a good filtration system with charcoal and sand, then boiling, which provided enough for the whole town. That didn’t stop a lot of families from boiling their own drinking water to avoid the wait, but most preferred safe to sorry and only drew water directly from the stream for bathing and washing.

A few of the women in town had spoken wistfully of building up a structure around a pool farther down the valley and creating a sort of bathhouse for use during the warmer months. Trev wasn’t sure it would be warm enough to be comfortable even at the height of summer with nuclear winter dropping temperatures, and any effort they put into making it comfortable was more than they could afford.

Creating something like an old-fashioned bathhouse where heated water was provided would be a luxury some entrepreneurial spirit would likely attempt once their situation got a bit more stable, but for now just about everyone in town was stuck with wet cloths and soap. That or a ton of labor hauling water and heating it over a stove. Those who even had tubs large enough to take baths in, that was.

Trev had just finished filling the buckets for the animals when a commotion by the town hall tent farther downstream caught his eye. Matt and Catherine were hurrying towards the road leading through the valley farther north, Chauncey limping after them at the best speed he could manage.

A call from the shelter group’s animal pens turned him back around, and he saw Lewis, Mary, and Gutierrez all running towards him. His cousin and the former soldier both had their weapons ready. Trev dropped the water buckets and rushed to join them, checking his MP-443 Grach in its holster as he went. His AK-47 was at home, since he hadn’t thought he’d need it while doing chores.

“Why don’t you have your radio with you?” Lewis demanded as they came in earshot. “We’ve got a military jeep headed our way. Some decently high ranking officer, looks like.”

Trev felt his face flush. He kept his radio with him at all times, but he’d been so foggy this morning from lack of sleep that he’d forgotten it when he started his chores. Then he’d figured going without it for a half hour or so would be better than wasting the time to go get it.

Guess he was wrong. “Looks like Matt and Catherine are rolling out the red carpet for whoever it is,” he said as he met up with his cousins and Gutierrez. Without a word they all started down the road after the town leaders. “Think they’re here about the veterans we took in?”

Gutierrez shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t see what else they could be here about.”

“There’s all sorts of things they could be here about,” Lewis pointed out. “But the veterans seems most likely.

Trev snorted. “Hey, maybe they’re here to bring supplies for them. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“In a jeep?” his cousin said doubtfully. “While we’re enjoying some wishful thinking maybe Bryant’s found a source for smokeless powder and primers and sent it our way. We could be making bullets in less than a week!”

“Well whatever it is, we’ll find out soon,” Mary said.

* * *

Matt had to admit that his thoughts weren’t fully on the approaching jeep.

Dr. Maggy, as the town’s new OB/GYN had asked them to call her, had checked on Sam yesterday. She’d been encouraging about the condition of his wife and their baby, but she’d also given some slightly confusing advice that felt borderline contradictory.

First off it was time for Sam to stop working at the clinic until the baby was born. Dr. Maggy had told her to avoid all stressful activities, but try to get regular light exercise. She’d also told her to get more rest, but also do her best to be up and about when she could. She’d told her to avoid getting chilled, but try to get fresh air where possible. And so on to diet, hygiene, and on and on.

Matt was fully on board with Sam doing everything she could to stay healthy and prepare for childbirth. He just wished the list of things he needed to remember, to remind her in case she forgot and help her where needed, wasn’t so dauntingly long.

But all too soon the vehicle pulled to a stop not far away from where the impromptu delegation from the town waited, and Matt tore his thoughts away from fretting about his wife and their child for the moment.

There were four men in the jeep, from the looks of it an officer, his aide, and two enlisted soldiers escorting them, one of whom was the driver. The two escorts immediately hopped out to survey the crowd, not quite threatening but definitely ready to use the M16s they held. Meanwhile the officer left the aide behind in the vehicle and came forward alone. He was in his early 40s, pale with hints of sunburn, not overweight but not fit either, and squinted in the early morning sunshine.

Matt stepped out to meet him, but stopped when the man immediately halted to keep a cautious six feet between them. “Major Kyle Rogers, USAF,” the officer said stiffly. The distance might explain why he didn’t offer a handshake.

“Matt Larson, Mayor,” Matt said. He did offer his hand, inviting Rogers to close the gap on friendly terms, but the man ignored it. “What can I do for you, Major?”

Rogers jerked a thumb vaguely westward. “I’m the coordinator of the refugee camp not far west of here. I’ve been hearing about your town a lot lately so I thought I’d come introduce myself.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Catherine said with a smile.

The officer ignored her. “My men have noticed that you always have someone ready to greet new arrivals. So either you’ve got people standing around wasting their time as professional greeters, or you have sentries out a fair ways giving advance notice of anyone who approaches.”

That sounded like a question, but before Matt could reply Rogers continued with a snort. “Which would also be a waste of time, since the military is patrolling a wide area around the mountains. There’s no chance a threat could ever reach this far. Your people have better things to do with their time.”

Matt disagreed. The blockhead raid not far away was a pretty solid indication that they weren’t completely gone. And the Gold Bloc wasn’t even close to the only potential threat in the world. In fact, Matt was starting to get some alarm bells from Rogers himself. The man was deliberately avoiding the courtesies, as if steeling himself up for a confrontation.

That was the last thing Matt wanted. Whatever had got under the man’s grill, he needed to try to smooth things over. “I appreciate the reassurance.” He held out a hand to indicate the rest of the delegation. “Welcome to Aspen Hill, Major Rogers. Would you like to meet our leaders and take a tour of the town?”

The officer gave the group a slightly disdainful look. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’d rather be about my business and back to my duties.”

“Of course,” Matt replied, although he was fairly sure he’d heard the man say he just wanted to introduce himself. “What can we do for you?”

Rogers’s next words were blunt. “Word is you’ve been poaching people from my refugee camp.”

Matt stiffened warily. “Poaching?”

“What else would you call taking the most hardworking and qualified?” The major shook his head in disapproval. “Not very egalitarian of you.”

It was hard to even think of a way to respond to such an absurd accusation. “We offered some people a better situation than the camp. We can’t take in everyone, only the people who can most help the town. What exactly can you find to criticize in that?”

Rogers ignored the question. “That poaching is why I’m here, to help you make amends. Specifically, however many people you brought in from the refugee camp, you need to take in ten times that many women and children. Widows and orphans. Consider it charity, to make up for your cynical cherrypicking.”

Matt’s bewilderment was quickly giving way to outrage, not to mention genuine worry. The town couldn’t handle hundreds more refugees. “Absolutely not. Unless the military is willing to give us supplies for those you’re asking us to take in. The people we invited from the camp are already going to be eating into everyone else’s rations, since we weren’t given anything for them. Call it cherrypicking or whatever else you want, but it’s still a costly enough tradeoff for the town.”

The major opened his mouth to argue further, but Matt doggedly kept going. “Besides, we already agreed to take in 28 wounded and crippled veterans. Also without their own supplies. Were you aware of that?”

“I was,” Rogers said reluctantly. “It doesn’t matter. We have women and children that need to be cared for. Taking in a bunch of experienced soldiers and qualified professionals is unacceptable.”

Matt felt like scum for refusing aid to women and children. He knew that was the man’s goal, to shame him into doing something that would be bad for Aspen Hill. Bad for the people who trusted him to speak for them. The town had its own women and children to care for, its own widows and orphans. Besides, if Rogers was coordinator for the refugee camp then taking care of them was his responsibility, not Aspen Hill’s.

That realization helped replace his guilt with outrage. “A lot of the people we took in have families!” he snapped. “We already have taken in more mouths to feed than people who have specific skills to offer the town, as part of our deal with them. We’ve been more than generous.”

For a few moments the officer simply breathed in and out, controlling his anger. “I’m appealing to Aspen Hill’s better nature here, Mayor Larson. If you won’t do it out of decency we might have to find other motivations for you.”

Matt’s blood chilled. “Is that a threat?”

“If you want to consider it that.” Rogers turned and started for his vehicle. “Seriously consider it. I want the right answer when I come back. We all need to sacrifice for the good of the nation.”

“Major Rogers!” Matt called after the man. Rogers paused. “I always thought that someone who asks others to make sacrifices for the greater good that they themselves aren’t willing to make is pretty despicable. But even more despicable is someone who forces other people to make those sacrifices.”

The major flinched as if slapped, then his jaw tightened. “I’ll give you a week, Mayor. As I understand it you’ve poached 22 people from my camp. Taking in 220 more shouldn’t be too great a strain on your town.”

Matt couldn’t believe the man could blithely say that. 220 more mouths to feed could end up being twice that many who didn’t survive the winter because of insufficient food if they tried to stretch what they had. Besides, that number didn’t include the families of those they’d already taken in. “Don’t waste your time, Major. The answer will be the same when you come back.”

“It better not be.” Rogers gave the assembled leaders and townspeople a warning look. “I would think carefully about this, before you let this man steer you into trouble you’re not prepared to deal with.”

His words were met with frosty silence, which didn’t seem to bother the major as he settled down in the backseat of the jeep and his escort hopped in and started the vehicle, tearing them off up the road in the direction of their camp.

A man who truly believed in the rightness of what he was doing. Another Ferris in the making, as far as Matt was concerned. And like everything else the man was wrong about, he had no idea what Aspen Hill’s people were prepared to deal with.

Chapter Eight

Honor

“Well first off,” Catherine said firmly, “one of the biggest mistakes we made with Ferris was assuming everything he did was sanctioned. We never contacted his superiors in Price to confirm his decisions, or protest them for that matter.”

Chauncey nodded. “I’ll get on the radio asking around to try to see just how many of his threats Rogers is capable of carrying out, as well as if it’s even any of his business how the rations are distributed and where refugees are sent outside his camp.”

“That’s a good start,” Matt said. The town’s leaders had adjourned to the town hall tent to discuss the problem of the major and his ultimatum. “But it doesn’t answer the question of what we do when he comes back.”

An uncomfortable silence settled. “220 people would be crippling for us, but not impossible,” Lucas said. “It might be better to absorb the hit if it will prevent problems with the military. They have more force to bring to bear than we do.”

That was the understatement of the century.

“Half our people are already looking at starvation before winter’s through,” Catherine snapped. “Do you want to bring in hundreds more when it’s your wife or daughter who might be starving to accommodate a bunch of useless eaters?”

Ben bristled. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t,” the former mayor responded. “Because you know Rogers will fob his biggest problems off on us. Young children, women who have no skills and are likely troublemakers to boot.” She glanced around and caught the uncomfortable looks. “And don’t pretend I’m wrong, just because it’s awful to think of the plight of widows and orphans. We’ve got our own to deal with.”

Matt held up his hands to calm the chaos that was about to break out. “I guess it all depends on what Rogers can do to us,” he said reasonably. “In the meantime we should prepare for the worst. Thoughts?”

Trev nodded. “I’ll put the defenders on high alert. Rogers might not expect us to be able to mobilize a full quarter of our people as a reasonably competent fighting force if the need arises. If he’s acting on his own we might be able to handle whatever soldiers he’s got under his command, if it comes to it.”

“And we should redouble our efforts gathering food, just in case,” Ben added. “It might be we can work our way out of this problem through sheer elbow grease and ingenuity.”

Matt wasn’t sure about that. As far as he knew everyone in town was already scrambling nonstop to gather every scrap of food in the area and preserve it for the coming winter. They couldn’t do more than their best, which most were already doing. He glanced over at the nook where they kept the radio gear. “Chauncey?”

The retired teacher shook his head. “It’s not looking good. We’re in Rogers’s area, and the refugee camp coordinators have a tremendous amount of authority with very little oversight. Too much of the military’s attention is focused on the continuing war with the Gold Bloc back east.”

To be honest Matt hadn’t been expecting good news on that front. For as much good as they’d done the military wasn’t perfect, and at the moment their word was law. There wasn’t any civilian authority to keep them in check, and it was only their sense of patriotism and decency that held them back from whatever they wanted to do. Unfortunately it looked as if Aspen Hill’s current problem came from a man who believed he was acting in the finest tradition of both.

“Again,” he said heavily. “What do we do when he comes back?”

“Take them in,” Scott said immediately. “I’d rather take the hit, no matter how bad it is, than risk armed conflict that might get just as many people killed.”

Catherine gave her husband an impatient look. “We need to turn them away. I’m not willing to lose even one of ours to starvation because of some bureaucrat’s power trip.”

Trev wasn’t helpful. “Whatever we decide, the defenders will be up for it,” he promised.

There was a short pause. “There is one thing to consider,” Lewis finally said. Matt noticed with interest that even though his friend had stepped away from any authority in the town, he still got everyone’s immediate attention when he spoke up. “Rogers might not be as reasonable with his terms when he comes back. What if he considers the veterans we took in as poached as well, and demands we take in 500 people? Or what if he tries to take back the surplus food we were given?”

Either of those things would be a disaster, even beyond what they were already looking at. Matt grimaced. “Are we going to reach a consensus on this, one way or another?” he demanded. The awkward silence seemed answer enough. “Fine. Then for now we plan to refuse Rogers’s terms and see what he says when he comes back, and before then see whether we can convince his superiors to call him off.”

He turned to Trev. “Make sure our defenders are ready.” His friend nodded, and he turned to Ben. “Let’s redouble our scavenging efforts. We don’t have food to offer, but maybe he’ll be interested in some other trade goods we can stand to part with if it’ll make this all go away.”

The older man looked doubtful. “He didn’t seem like the type to leave with a sackful of gold watches.”

“Better than the food we need to stay alive.” Matt nodded to his friends. “I’m sure you have scavenging expeditions planned.”

Lewis nodded, although he also looked doubtful. “There’s definitely things we can pick up,” he agreed. “I doubt any of them will help in this situation, though.”

With any decision basically made until they knew more or something else happened the meeting broke up. As everyone either drifted towards the exit or gathered in smaller groups Matt overheard the cousins talking.

“Now might be a good time to go after the reloading equipment I’ve made an offer on,” Lewis said in a low voice. “Before we’re potentially cut off from the outside world, possibly until winter.”

“I’m not sure I can break away, especially when I’ll need to keep my people on high alert,” Trev replied.

“No, I wasn’t expecting you to. I’ll go with Jane, maybe Gutierrez if he’s interested. I just wanted you to know where we are.”

“You’re not going into Rogers’s camp for this, are you?” Matt cut in. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

Lewis gave him an amused look. “No, I’m not nearly that crazy. It’s a place much farther west, almost to Sanpete Valley. Probably still a trip we can make in one day, depending on how things go. And don’t worry, we’ll steer well clear of the Major’s camp.”

Matt nodded and put them out of his mind. He had plenty of his own issues to worry about, and while Rogers and his demands were the most pressing they were far from the only ones.

* * *

The place where Lewis had agreed to meet Mr. Gallagher for the trade, going through Chauncey on the radio, wasn’t exactly a refugee camp.

It had started out as a displaced town, similar to new Aspen Hill. But since it was on a main road it had seen a lot of traffic through it, and eventually the military had begun settling refugees there instead of having them pass through. They’d tried to do so without displacing the current residents, but within a matter of days the few hundred people had been swamped by over a thousand refugees.

The result wasn’t pretty. Whatever order the townspeople had tried to impose on their new home had given way to trampled paths meandering between the crude shelters that sprawled in all directions, and a constant haze of dust kicked up by people walking on dirt with no gravel or paving to be seen. That dust coated everyone, leaving them all filthy and defeated looking.

There was a small military presence there, to assist the chaotic camp as well as keep the road clear and safe for travelers. The few soldiers looked harried, nearly as dusty and bedraggled as the people they watched over in spite of whatever discipline they maintained.

Rationally Lewis knew that even a few hundred extra people wouldn’t immediately create a situation like this for Aspen Hill. But it was a chilling warning of what giving an inch might lead to if Rogers decided he could start dumping his problems on the town.

Gallagher’s residence was on the far end of the camp. Lewis decided it would be better to ride through on the road and then circle around and approach it from the outskirts, rather than trying to go straight through that sprawl. They had their weapons with them, of course, and the soldiers kept a decent presence, but in spite of that the place stank of desperation. He’d brought a considerable amount of food in trade goods with him that might tempt trouble, and he wanted in and out as quickly as possible.

Jane and Gutierrez followed his lead, not complaining about pushing on to get away from this place in spite of the hard bike ride they’d just had. Gutierrez was a bit more obvious in his wariness than the rest of them, often riding one-handed to rest his other hand on his sidearm when they passed a potential threat.

Lewis was glad the former soldier had agreed to come along for the ride, now that his simple cabin was completed and he could spare time from gathering food and firewood. Since Gutierrez lived alone and was often away on patrol for Trev he’d put his food in the town storehouse where it could be guarded full time, free of charge thanks to his service to the town. He had a neighbor keep an eye on his cabin and the firewood stored beside it, which might be a target for theft but not as much as food would be. As for the rest of his possessions, he brought them along wherever he went or stored them with his food.

Beyond giving Gutierrez a chance to feel like a part of things, it gave Lewis a chance to get to know him better. In spite of all the fighting side by side they’d done they both tended to be somewhat of loners, in Gutierrez’s case maybe not so much by choice as due to how he’d come to be in town. Either way, if the former soldier was interested in Mary then Lewis wanted to feel out his intentions a bit.

It wasn’t an issue of trust, exactly. Maybe a bit of brotherly overprotectiveness.

Gallagher lived in a crude but carefully built shack along the border where the besieged town ended and the refugee camp began. The man was older, late 40s or early 50s, balding and with the sagging flesh of someone who’d been overweight before an extreme apocalyptic weight loss program.

He had an extensive set of reloading tools to trade, including equipment for all the most common calibers and a few esoteric ones, as well as custom work. He even had a small supply of bullets in several calibers and the lead and jacketing material to make more, as well as his own modest supply of shell casings that Lewis didn’t intend to buy, since he had plenty of his own.

No smokeless powder or primers though, unfortunately; Gallagher had used all of his making rounds to trade for food, before his situation became so desperate he was forced to trade the tools themselves. Lewis felt a bit bad to be the one benefitting from that misfortune, but he’d offered a good deal under the circumstances.

In this case that deal was three months of food for an adult male. Assuming the older man also had his six months from the military, it meant he had enough food to last the winter and then some. Judging by the arsenal Gallagher displayed as he showed them the tools, including a .308 slung over his shoulder, a hefty .50 cal pistol at his hip, and possible evidence of another concealed pistol in a smaller caliber, he wouldn’t have problems either defending what was his or hunting for more food to keep him going.

“It’s a shame to lose all this,” Gallagher said as Lewis looked his equipment over, going on information he’d read and the few reloading videos he’d watched from his hard drives to make his appraisal. From what he could see it was all well used but also lovingly cared for, in good condition under the circumstances. “I’d keep it if I could, hope to get by with whatever cartridges I could make, but I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find powder or primers for love or money. I need the food more at this point.”

Interesting. Either the man hadn’t gotten six months from the military or he was responsible for providing for more than just himself. Either way Lewis could empathize with the food woes; losing three months from his stores would put a tremendous amount of pressure on him to provide for Jane, Mary, and his parents, even with the military’s windfall. But he thought he could manage it, and he’d endure a temporary crunch for the chance at future prosperity.

This opportunity was too good to pass up.

The man was a talker, or maybe he was just keeping his mouth going to ease the sting of losing what had obviously been prized tools of a beloved hobby. “Not that it affects the deal one way or another, but I’d be interested to know if you’ve managed to solve that problem for yourself.”

“No,” Lewis admitted. “I’m drawing a blank on those things too. But I figure it’s better to have some of what I need rather than none.”

“If you say so,” Gallagher said, scratching at his gray fringe of hair. “Without it all you might as well have nothing. Believe me, I know.”

Lewis just shrugged and led the man over to his bike trailer, giving him a chance to look over the food he’d be getting. He’d thought of bringing more than three months, in case Gallagher decided he didn’t like some specific item and demanded a replacement. But on the other hand there was the risk the man would up his price and ask for everything, which outweighed the chance he might walk away from the deal because he’d turned his nose up at something.

It sounded a bit heartless, but Lewis wouldn’t be overly concerned if the other party was slightly unsatisfied by what he’d gotten. He’d carefully counted calories to make sure this was exactly three months, so he’d kept his end of the deal. And he hadn’t used it as an opportunity to fob off all the unhealthy processed junk they’d gotten from the military, either; it was a decent variety, even some of his preserved venison jerky.

That worry proved groundless, however. Gallagher seemed content with the items on offer, and after a handshake to seal the deal they all got to work swapping the trade goods. In fact, the man proved a decent sort and seemed happy to share a lifetime of knowledge from his reloading hobby. Lewis listened intently, and although they were looking at a long ride home he even prevailed on the man to join him, Jane, and Gutierrez for dinner to continue the instruction.

In a way it was a shame they couldn’t offer the man a place in Aspen Hill the way they’d invited in other skilled experts. Even though it had meant he’d be facing competition to his own planned business Lewis had actually included a reloading expert on his list of recommended people. The town had ultimately turned the suggestion down as not necessary for immediate survival, not to mention they hadn’t found Gallagher at that point and no one else really fit the bill.

Still, he felt good about the day’s efforts as the three of them offered the older man a final round of handshakes, then rode away with a trailer full of tools and reloading supplies and heads full of imparted wisdom.

He just hoped whatever happened with Rogers wouldn’t make today’s work pointless. They’d see in six days, or closer to five since today was nearly over. It was hard to say whether that was not nearly long enough or an eternity.

* * *

It wasn’t a pleasant week for Matt.

Chauncey had no good news for him about Rogers. The man had apparently spent most of his career running logistics in military bases on US soil, with very little combat experience. Even during the recent fight against the blockheads his role had been managing refugees, not leading troops against the enemy. A pencil pusher.

As Catherine put it, a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat no matter which organization they worked for. Generally by the book to the point of being anal retentive, puffing themselves up with petty authority, and often their main source of influence was their ability to put stumbling blocks in the way of people trying to get things done until they got their way on an issue.

From the sound of things Rogers talked a good game and had a decent reputation, but the state of his camp told a different story. The refugees Aspen Hill had taken in had stories to tell of worsening conditions there, and Chauncey provided more scuttlebutt from other sources. Even a few of the veterans who’d joined the town had heard of him, and most of what they’d heard wasn’t great.

Of course it was possible the refugee camp was going to pot for reasons outside of the major’s control, but other camps facing similar issues seemed to be handling them better. Either Rogers had somehow had extraordinarily bad luck and attracted all the troublemakers and malcontents to his camp, as well as every supply and coordination problem imaginable, or more likely the career bureaucrat wasn’t all that good at his job.

None of that information did much for Aspen Hill, though. Especially now that they were apparently on his bad side. Even worse, all of Chauncey’s communications to anyone he could get in contact with confirmed that Rogers could in fact probably do as he threatened; unless they were willing to go up the military chain of command on the issue they’d have to deal with the refugee camp coordinator, and he didn’t seem likely to make that easy.

What was worse, Scott and Ben had worked together to confirm something Matt already knew; that there was no way Aspen Hill could hope to take in a couple hundred mouths to feed without causing immense suffering for the town. Last winter had been crushing, losing them hundreds of people, and while the food situation was looking slightly better now they faced a nuclear winter that would last longer and be far more brutal. If Rogers did force them to take in refugees they’d be looking at a similar death toll in spite of their best efforts.

The major could talk about charity all he liked, but maybe he should spend more time considering reality.

Either way, as the leaders nervously gathered to await his arrival a week after his first visit the mood was grim. Sam had wanted to be there to give Matt her support, but with the chance things might turn violent he’d insisted she stay safe at home. Lewis, Jane, and Gutierrez were there, though, with enough of the returned volunteers mingled in with the crowd to defend everyone if the situation got nasty. He seriously hoped it wouldn’t, but they’d prepared just in case.

Which was why Trev and the defenders were elsewhere.

The mood only got grimmer when the military arrived, about the same time in the morning as last week, in a convoy of half a dozen trucks. Not enough to be bringing in 220 refugees, unless they’d seriously crammed them in, but Matt doubted they were bringing more food, either. Whatever that many vehicles meant was probably bad news.

Rogers hopped out of the lead vehicle to meet the assembled crowd, and several soldiers swarmed out to cover him as if he was expecting trouble. Once again Matt stepped forward alone to meet the man, staring over his shoulder at the trucks.

“What is this, Major?” he asked warily.

The camp coordinator gave him a triumphant look. “Correcting an error. And a legitimate one, in case you were going to accuse me of being vindictive. Our records show that as of the last census your town had 803 people. However, you were given rations for 900. I’ve come to reclaim the surplus for those who truly need it.”

So that was the angle the man planned to take. Matt grit his teeth. Losing that food wouldn’t be as disastrous as taking in the refugees, but it would still mean a lot of suffering and death. “The town currently has 866 residents.”

“As you claim,” Rogers shot back. “I prefer to go by the census.”

The one made who knew how long ago, before they’d taken in the Lincolns and the rescued prisoners who’d come back with Trev and Lewis, let alone the skilled refugees and veterans. But Matt doubted he’d have any success arguing that point when it was being used against him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying for patience. “So you intend to take back enough food to feed 97 people for six months, directly out of the mouths of the 63 people we’ve taken in since. Many of whom were veterans or volunteers who risked their lives fighting the blockheads, and were seriously wounded or crippled doing so.”

Rogers hesitated, glancing at his soldiers. They were stony-faced and maintained discipline, but Matt was sure the point he’d made wouldn’t sit well with them. The soldiers he’d had an opportunity to know well were all fiercely loyal to their own, especially those who’d been wounded in combat. They were well aware that but for the grace of God…

But the major didn’t let the argument sway him. “Actually, Mayor Larson, once we take the surplus we’ll be returning with the 220 women and children you were told to prepare for.”

Behind Matt the leaders and onlooking crowd of townspeople broke into outraged cries. Matt himself could hardly believe his ears. The man was doing far worse than they’d feared, hitting them every way he could get away with.

Then disbelief faded, and for a moment fury blacked out Matt’s vision. “You know you’re condemning hundreds of people to die by starvation if you do this. Are you actually petty enough to cause that many deaths just to get back at a town that’s done nothing wrong aside from offend your sensibilities?”

Rogers’s eyes glittered, hinting at more vicious emotions than just smugness and contempt. “Don’t play me, Larson. Your town’s doing well, you can easily handle this.”

Lewis spoke up from the crowd. “You have a career in logistics, Major. You know that’s not true.”

Rather than answering the camp coordinator simply motioned to the trucks, whose engines rumbled to life. “We’ll be correcting the mistake and taking the excess food, now. You needn’t cooperate by assisting us, but don’t get in our way.”

Matt said nothing as the camp coordinator hopped into the passenger seat of the lead vehicle and the small convoy continued up the road into town. After exchanging looks with Lewis and the town leaders, and getting nods in return from most of them, he toggled his headset’s mic.

“Trev, mobilize the defenders.”

* * *

Trev hadn’t joined the other leaders greeting the major’s convoy.

He had two dozen of his best people arrayed around the large log structure where the town’s surplus was being stored. Hundreds more defenders were waiting in cabins and stick-and-mud huts all throughout the town for his signal in case he needed them. He also had some of his most accurate shooters positioned along the lower slopes to either side of the valley, to protect the town’s leaders and the town itself if it came to it.

As for the townspeople, he’d advised them to hunker down in their homes for their own safety. Doubtless a few of them would peek out to watch the action, but if they chose to do that the risk was on their own heads.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly over the radio as he and his people watched the trucks approaching along the gravel path leading into town. It was too narrow to properly accommodate vehicles, but the drivers were managing the smoothest ride they could. “We’ll be stepping into some serious trouble if this comes to violence.”

Matt’s voice sounded cold as he answered. “You weren’t here for Ferris’s occupation, Trev. Not for the worst of it. I won’t let anyone do that to Aspen Hill again. If we’re going to have to fight for what’s ours anyway, we fight now.”

Trev glanced past the approaching vehicles to the town leaders running to catch up to what was about to happen. “Then you’d better get over here quick, just in case you can talk this down from becoming a bloodbath.”

“We’ll do our best. But that might be up to you.”

Great. Trev was confident his people could deal with however many men Rogers had brought, but the last thing he wanted was to shoot the brave soldiers who’d just spent months defending him and his loved ones from the enemy. Especially not if it meant enraging the thousands more just in this area alone that the military could call in.

Still, he’d been listening in on his friend’s conversation with Rogers, and he agreed that they couldn’t let any of what Rogers wanted happen.

“Weapons ready,” he told his people, unslinging his own rifle and holding it angled low. “But don’t so much as point them at anyone unless they do it first. And for the love of all that’s holy don’t fire a shot until I give the order.”

At his side Deb had raised her pistol. It shook slightly in her hands. “What if they shoot first?” she whispered. “What if they shoot you, and you can’t give the order?”

Trev really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Then defend yourselves.”

That was all he had time for before the lead truck rumbled to a stop ten feet away. Twenty soldiers immediately boiled out of all the vehicles, forming up behind the cover their trucks provided with their own weapons ready. At least they weren’t pointing them at anyone either, and they didn’t look particularly happy about the situation.

As for their cover, it wouldn’t help them if it came to violence considering they were in the middle of hundreds of defenders hiding in the surrounding houses.

Rogers stayed in the cab of the lead vehicle, speaking through a built-in public address system. “Stand down, people of Aspen Hill. This doesn’t have to turn ugly.”

Trev raised his voice loud enough that the man could hear it through the glass. “I’d say that’s on you, given you’re the aggressors here.”

That seemed to be all the talking the man was willing to do. He gave a terse order through the PA system, and a score of rifles reluctantly raised to point at Trev and his defenders. Trev stiffened, but before he could raise his own weapon or give the order for his people to do the same there was a shout.

Both groups turned to see the 28 veterans the town had taken in, dressed in their uniforms but unarmed, moving to put themselves between the convoy and the defenders. Even the crippled and seriously wounded were there, supported by their friends.

“What’s wrong with you?” Carrie Grant, near the front of the group, shouted. The scarred, half-blind woman wasn’t talking to Rogers but to the soldiers around the trucks. “You’re pointing guns at the people we swore to protect!”

The soldiers exchanged guilty looks. Most had already lowered their rifles, and the few that hadn’t quickly did so.

Just like that the tense atmosphere was broken, and Trev felt a surge of relief. When the veterans had offered to help earlier he’d insisted he couldn’t ask it of them, but apparently they’d decided to get involved anyway. And it looked like that was just what the situation needed.

Rogers addressed the wounded and crippled men and woman, sounding angry. “You swore oaths to obey orders, but here you are siding against your brothers-in-arms and making a bad situation worse! Stand aside so we can do what we’ve come to do.”

“All due respect, Major, but we’ve been discharged from service with honors. We’re all civilians, and citizens of this town.” That was Derek Withers, leaning against another veteran beside Carrie. The man had lost his right leg at the hip and wasn’t properly healed enough to be putting his weight on the prosthetic he’d strapped on. It pained Trev to see him standing when every second had to be agonizing.

The soldiers who’d come with Rogers were looking distinctly uncomfortable at this point. So much so that when Rogers’s voice crackled through the public address system, ordering them to usher aside the unarmed veterans and resume their firing positions, nobody moved to comply.

Into that awkward silence Matt and the other town leaders finally arrived, to Trev’s relief. His friend took one look at the situation and then turned not to Rogers but to the soldiers with him, addressing his words to them.

“I have nothing but respect for all of you,” he said firmly. “You risked your lives to defend us, went through hell and watched friends die for our sake. Many of you were wounded mind and body to keep this town safe, and that’s a sacrifice we can never repay.”

Matt raised his voice, every inch the Mayor. “The last thing we want is to turn our weapons on you, and we’ll only do it to defend ourselves. But we can’t let you take food we desperately need. It would be as good as murdering dozens or even hundreds of our friends and neighbors. Please, ask yourselves if you’re in the right here, if you really want to harm those you risked your lives to defend, just to follow the orders of a corrupt bureaucrat.”

Rogers finally decided that staying safe in the cab of his truck wasn’t inspiring his troops. He hopped down to face off against Matt, glaring murder. “I’m a Major in the United States Air Force!” he bellowed. “I earned my rank through hard work, sacrifice, and dedication to my country! You’re nothing but liars and thieves willing to kill US soldiers over a few stale donuts!”

Matt ignored him, eyes on the soldiers. That’s where Trev’s eyes were, too. It definitely looked as if Rogers wasn’t going to get his way here, but if the camp coordinator ordered his men to simply shove the veterans and defenders aside so they could take the food, Trev doubted either he or Matt would be able to bring themselves to order their people to open fire.

The situation would probably devolve into a fistfight, and that would be bad for Aspen Hill. Men who might balk at shooting civilians might not feel quite as squeamish about bludgeoning them down, if they felt like they weren’t completely the aggressors. And in that sort of chaos a fistfight might turn into a firefight after all, especially if Rogers’s men were on the losing end and felt there was no other choice.

But the major hesitated, considering what to do, and in that tense silence a young private stepped out of line and slung his rifle back over his shoulder. Expression determined, he turned to face his superior officer. “Sir, in good conscience I can’t be part of this.”

“You’ll do as you’re told, soldier!” Rogers snarled. He motioned to two other men. “Disarm him and bind his hands. Toss him in the back of a truck.”

Those soldiers also slung their rifles, but rather than obeying they moved to stand with their comrade in arms. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, because within seconds Rogers’s entire force had stood down.

An imperceptible movement rippled through the defenders, as if sheer relief carried a weight. Matt nodded to Trev, and at his gesture the defenders put their weapons away as well.

Rogers looked so pissed off Trev wouldn’t have been surprised if the man grabbed his own pistol and started firing. Instead he turned to his soldiers. “We’ll return to camp,” he snapped. “We can deal with this mutiny there.”

The soldiers silently hopped back in their trucks and drove off. The tension broke at that point, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The crowd quickly devolved into hugs and backslaps in a subdued but heartfelt celebration.

Trev broke away from Deb and his defenders to shake hands all around with the veterans who’d interceded on the town’s behalf, personally thanking each. Carrie looked a bit embarrassed at his praise, flushing beneath her livid scars, but her shoulders were squared proudly. Soon Matt, Lewis, and most of the town’s leaders had joined him, then the rest of the town, until the veterans were surrounded by a grateful crowd.

In spite of the mood of his relief Trev couldn’t really get into the celebration, though. This was the sort of hollow victory that could easily lead to far bigger problems in the future. He sought out his uncle, Lewis, Matt, Catherine, and Chauncey and pulled them aside a bit.

“I don’t think what happened here is going to solve many of our problems,” he said quietly. “Unless the mutiny spreads and Rogers is removed from his position, he’ll either transfer or punish the soldiers who came with him today to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again. And the fact that they obeyed his order to leave, and showed strict military discipline doing so, suggests that the mutiny ended once the crisis did.”

Lucas nodded. “All we accomplished here was to give him even more reason to come after us, and if he’s smart we’ve also handed him the public perception artillery to make us look like the bad guys. An armed group of defenders chasing him out of town isn’t hard to smear as a violent mob.”

Matt grimaced. “Let’s get ahead of this situation. Chauncey, I want you to be on the radio 24/7 explaining the situation to anyone who’ll listen.”

The retired teacher rubbed at his stump around the prosthetic Rick had carved for him. “You know I have been doing that, and it hasn’t exactly made this problem go away. At best I might not be able to do more than muddy the waters enough that nobody cheers when the military comes for us.”

“We can’t fight off the entire military,” Catherine warned. “It would be suicide to even try. Even if it was just Rogers and the men he has in his camp coming our way it would be tough to handle, especially if he’s got heavy weapons or serious crowd control.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Matt replied. “We need to try to go over Rogers’s head, contact the highest ranking military officers still in the area and explain the situation to them. The challenge will be to make a more convincing argument than one of their own officers.”

“Again,” Chauncey insisted, “I’m not having any luck with that. The higher-ups in the military have too much on their plate to pay attention to a minor dispute, and their subordinates have no interest in going out of their way to pass a message along. I can see if any officers that the town or the volunteers worked with while fighting the blockheads are still around to speak in our favor, and of course I’ll fight any misinformation Rogers tried to spread. But I can only do so much over a radio.”

“I agree.” Matt looked around at Trev and the leaders. “Which is why with your approval I want to send my dad, Lucas, Ben Thompson, and Scott Tillman to head over the mountains to Manti. They can try to get a meeting in person with whoever’s in charge there and plead our case.”

Trev agreed that it was probably a good idea to send their people for a face to face, although he didn’t like the thought of sending a group that distance without bringing any of his defenders along. Not that he didn’t think the four men could handle themselves, as they’d more than proven they could in the past. And the choice of destinations was a good one, too; the camp just outside of Manti was where the remaining military leadership and the largest bulk of the refugees were resettling now that the blockheads were gone. Which meant it was their best hope of finding someone who could intervene on Aspen Hill’s behalf.

“Include me and Lewis in the group,” he insisted. “A bit of added protection.”

“And me,” Deb cut in. At some point Jane had appeared at Lewis’s side, managing to convey without words that she intended to come along as well.

Matt shook his head. “I picked four people because I was thinking they’d take the last of our diesel and the mule. I’d say this counts as an emergency and time is of the essence.”

Ah, that made a lot more sense. The side-by-side couldn’t go fast, about 25 mph at most, but it was reasonably fuel efficient. “There’s room for five, at least,” Trev said. “I’d say as leader of the defenders I qualify.”

It was Lucas who protested now. “If Rogers does try something you need to be here, ready for it. We’re going to Sanpete Valley to talk, not fight, so it doesn’t make sense to take anyone who could be more useful here.”

“So take me.”

That was a new voice, and they turned to see Derek Withers leaning on the shoulders of Carrie and another of the veterans. The one-legged man was pale from the strain of still standing, but his expression was determined as he continued. “It can only help your case having one of us along, and I know a few people in that camp who might help us get up the chain to Colonel Grimes.”

Grimes, eh? That was a name Trev recognized, as the man who’d been in charge of guarding Highway 6 and all the territory just north of Aspen Hill during the fight against the Gold Bloc. With any luck that meant the colonel would recognize the name of their town, too.

As for Derek… but Matt was already on top of that. “I’m sorry,” his friend said. “I’m not sure the diesel we have will even get the mule all the way across the mountains, let alone back home. It’ll probably come to walking.”

He didn’t need to say more. Derek nodded, looking resigned.

“Then I’ll go,” Carrie offered. With a slightly bitter twist of her lips, or maybe that was her attempt at a smile with half her face scarred, she indicated her eyepatch. “I can at least score some sympathy points for you, and my legs work just fine.”

The town leaders exchanged unspoken looks of agreement. It would be good to have a veteran along speaking on their behalf. They’d certainly defused the situation during the face-off with Rogers.

“Five it is,” Lucas said, giving the young woman a respectful nod. “Let’s get going.”

Chapter Nine

Dependent

Ed Larson knew failure.

Failure was watching in a crisis as the food disappeared, always too slow to get any before it was gone. Failure was needing to have your children warn you to store water, in preparation for when that went too. Failure was watching in helpless rage as some weaselly little bureaucrat took what little your family had left at gunpoint, smiling in smug satisfaction as he guaranteed your loved ones would starve and nothing you could do would prevent it.

Failure was relying on the generosity of a friend you never had the courage to stand up in defense of, just to survive a winter that would’ve been the end of you and everyone you cared about. Failure was always being one step away from volunteering to fight when armed men threatened your town, but never quite taking that step. Failure was letting yourself be talked out of taking any risks because of age, or because your son was shouldering that burden for you, or for any of a dozen other feeble excuses.

Failure was watching your son become a respected leader, and knowing he’d gotten none of those qualities from you.

The worst part was that nobody seemed to blame Ed for his failures. As if they didn’t expect any better from him. As if they knew that when the time came to count on someone, they could count him out.

And now here he was, watching as another mealy-mouthed bureaucrat tried to destroy his town. Only if there was one thing Ed knew, it was that those who didn’t learn from history were doomed to repeat it. He didn’t really shoot all that well, didn’t have the courage to join others in the fight, but he could do this. He could potentially put himself in harm’s way trying to talk to someone who might be able to stop this madness.

He knew all about failure, but he couldn’t afford to fail here. Brave, skilled, and well equipped as his town’s defenders were, there were some things they couldn’t handle.

The group’s fears about not having enough fuel to reach the refugee camp outside of Manti proved unfounded, largely thanks to Lucas’s knowledge of the backroads branching off from Skyline Drive that took them by the quickest route, right down through Manti canyon behind the city itself. Every town along either side of the Manti-La Sal mountains seemed to have a canyon and road like that, which had definitely helped the military get around behind the lines during the fight against the blockheads.

Of course, all those roads had been demolished to prevent the enemy from having easy access to the mountains. In this case the military had cleared the way again to facilitate the mass exodus of refugees down into Sanpete County, and for that same reason the refugee camp around the burned out hulk of Manti began almost as soon as the canyon ended.

That camp was like nothing Ed had ever seen before. Admittedly, his only other experiences were the refugees who’d ended up outside Aspen Hill trying to get in, and Rogers’s camp just west of new Aspen Hill where all their current problems were coming from.

He’d heard Matt, April, and Terry describe the Antelope Island camp in all its soul-crushing glory, and even little Aaron had described it as only a six year old can. “It was really really big! There was a big fence and we couldn’t go close to it or soldiers would yell at us. It smelled bad. Mommy had to hold my hand whenever we went to eat or go potty because there were lots of people everywhere. People shouted real loud when I was trying to sleep.”

His grandson’s assessment was about on the money for this place, too. The population of a fair sized city lived here, not tucked away in several-storey apartment buildings but sprawled along dirt lanes in ragged tents or, far more rarely, crude structures made from whatever building materials could be found. The dust kicked up by so many feet made a constant haze over the area, and the smell of the nearest latrine or refuse pit hit them before they’d gotten within a hundred feet of the perimeter, carried on a stray breeze.

There were no guards, he noticed. The closest thing he saw was a patrol heading out past their mule, as well as a few teams of soldiers, probably MPs, making their way between rows of tents keeping the peace.

Their side-by-side wasn’t the only vehicle around, but it definitely drew more than its fair share of attention. Since it wasn’t obviously military, and none of them were in uniform, they stood out in the crowd. A lot of that attention was focused on Carrie, whose eyepatch didn’t do much to hide the scars that marred an otherwise very lovely face. The young woman was obviously uncomfortable and self-conscious at the stares, but she did her best to put up a stoic front as Lucas drove them through the camp towards the military section, closest to the burned ruins of the county seat.

It was a stark contrast to the refugee camp, well organized and laid out along newly laid gravel or pre-existing paved roads, which ran between straight rows of tents and a few permanent structures, either repurposed shipping containers or large buildings made of sheet metal. It was surrounded by a simple chain-link fence topped by a roll of concertina wire, with light but sturdy gates for every road. Measures obviously meant to discourage trespassing and potential theft.

They finally encountered guards at the gate they made for, and Ed was doubly glad they still had fuel for the mule at that point; in a vehicle the guards were a lot more receptive than if they’d just walked up to the gate. After a few questions they were allowed to drive through, and a corporal was sent to report their presence and see how the higher-ups wanted to handle their visit.

Of course, two soldiers were assigned to watch them in the meantime, and he had a feeling leaving their seats in the side-by-side would provoke a less than friendly response. Still, anything that boosted their image when it came time to plead Aspen Hill’s case could only be a good thing.

From what Chauncey and the veterans had told them during the brief time they’d had while preparing to leave, Colonel Grimes was in charge of the camp and nominally in charge of the entire military remaining in this area, although he had frequent contact with Generals Lassiter and Erikson about coordination and major issues. He was definitely the person to go to about resolving the town’s problem with Rogers, if he could be persuaded to intervene.

Then again, it would probably be hard to get a meeting with a man dealing with the logistics of hundreds of thousands of refugees and thousands of troops, as well as guarding the borders of the limited but expanding territory the US held around the Rocky Mountains.

At least their position was fairly simple and straightforward. When various noncoms and junior officers came around to ask the purpose of their visit, Lucas could explain in just a few words that their town was having a serious dispute with the coordinator of the nearby refugee camp, and they needed someone to intervene and arbitrate.

It was the sort of urgent but low priority situation that guaranteed they’d eventually get somewhere, if they were patient. So it was a pleasant surprise when after only an hour or so a lieutenant who identified himself as Colonel Grimes’s aide invited the Aspen Hill delegation to come with him.

The junior officer led them to a newly constructed building, plain but relatively large and well made, that served as the military headquarters. It was a beehive of activity as senior officers and their staff coordinated the management and defense of the entire area and hundreds of thousands of people.

They were led through a few main rooms full of logistics personnel and into a waiting room outside an office, where the aide had them wait a few minutes before a word from the far door had him ushering them on through.

The office beyond was small and spare, full of bookshelves nearly overflowing with hastily but neatly filed documents. Aside from a stowed away cot in one corner and a few framed pictures on the desk stacked high with pending reports, the most personal items in the room were the colonel’s combat gear stowed near the desk where it could be quickly retrieved, and an assortment of crowd control, personal defense, and standard combat weapons ready for use.

Grimes himself fit his office well. His uniform was surprisingly clean under the circumstances, and he was clean-shaven with his silver hair trimmed short. He was one of the tallest people in a room full of tall men, with the solid build of someone who didn’t spend all his time behind a desk. Even without the rank insignia on his uniform he would command attention, and Ed noticed Carrie start to salute as a conditioned response and then freeze and sheepishly lower her hand.

Lucas took the lead in introducing the group as the senior officer shook hands all around. “Aspen Hill’s defenders held the area on the eastern front just south of the area you were holding along Highway 6, Colonel,” he said to conclude. “We know you by reputation and we’ve met some of your men in the field, but none of us have had the honor of meeting you in person.”

That seemed to remind Grimes of why they were here. “Yes, I was in your neck of the woods,” he said, sounding weary as he dropped into his seat behind the battered desk. His voice hardened. “But I’ve got to warn you that most of what I’ve heard about your town, little as that’s been, isn’t great.”

Ed fought to keep his expression neutral. So Rogers had been poisoning the well against them. Figured.

“Would you allow us to give our side of the situation?” Scott asked politely. He looked a bit irked that they hadn’t been offered seats, even though there were enough to accommodate them. Most of that worry was probably for Lucas, since the man’s mostly-healed leg still pained him even two months after breaking it in the blockhead ambush in Aspen Hill Canyon.

Lucas seemed to be holding up all right, at least enough not to make an issue of it as far as Ed was concerned. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.

“Of course I will, that’s why you’re in my office,” Grimes said impatiently. “But I’ll warn you that Major Rogers seems to have a solid case. As I see it he’s acted from the best intentions. He wanted you to take in women and children. He demanded you return excess food you were given in error so it could be distributed to those who desperately need it. The town’s own intentions don’t seem so honorable.”

Ed heard a few quiet noises of disbelief from his friends. He himself was doing his best to control his temper. But he kept quiet and let Lucas defend their position.

“Begging your pardon, Colonel, but to clear up misrepresentations about the town’s intentions is the reason we’re here. As for Rogers’s own, it’s wise to look at results, not what he intended. Do you believe it’s possible for a man with even the best intentions to produce evil outcomes?”

Grimes hesitated. “As it stands I’ve only heard Rogers’s side of this issue, which hasn’t seemed intended to paint you in a very good light,” he admitted. He glanced down at the reports on his desk, then sighed and pushed them away, leaning back. “My time is limited and I’d like you to be brief, but take as much time as you feel you need. I’ll hear you out.”

After a glance at the others to confirm that the ball was still in his court, Lucas took a breath and started from the beginning. For this issue that was with Corporal Bryant delivering food to the town and requesting they take in veterans, and stressing that someone in the military chain of command deliberately saw to it they received a surplus, perhaps in gratitude for their contributions fighting the blockheads.

He also briefly outlined the reasoning behind the town recruiting refugees with skills they needed, and allowing in families as well. Finally he gave a thorough rundown of their encounters with Rogers, including honestly admitting that the town had been willing to fight to prevent the given surplus from being taken back.

To his credit Grimes listened patiently the entire way through, only interrupting a few times to ask for clarification or further details. One such was near the beginning. “You say you willingly took in wounded and crippled soldiers? Can you confirm this?”

Ed was glad they’d brought Carrie along then. The scarred young woman immediately spoke up. “I’m one of those they took in, Colonel,” she said, face raised as if to highlight her eyepatch and scars. “I came with 27 others, and Aspen Hill greeted us with incredible hospitality and kindness. Just as importantly, they didn’t treat us like dead weight and gave us the chance to immediately pitch in and help out as best we were able given our infirmities, as full members of the community.”

The colonel gave her a respectful nod. “I appreciate the sacrifice all of you made, and I’m glad you ended up in good circumstances. The fact that these people took you in is a strong point in their favor.” He nodded to Lucas to continue.

Ed thought his old friend did a good job of honestly laying out the facts. When Lucas was done he finished quietly but firmly. “We’re proud of what we’ve created in Aspen Hill. We don’t want to lose it.”

“And what have you created?” Grimes asked, leaning forward. “What is your town’s vision of an ideal society?”

Lucas paused in thought. “An ideal society is impossible in an imperfect world,” he admitted. “But if we want to get as close as we can, it has to start with everyone honestly taking responsibility for their own actions and wellbeing. No entitlement, no distorted view of reality. A place where everyone works hard to improve themselves and the community, and are allowed to do so without unnecessary intervention, is bound to prosper. And those who’ve lifted themselves up will then be free to extend a hand to those who need it.”

“A hand you refused to extend to the refugees Major Rogers tried to send your way,” the colonel pointed out.

“Forced handouts aren’t good for anyone involved,” Scott said, obviously trying to keep his temper. “Taking from one group at gunpoint to give to another who’ve done nothing to earn it, with zero expectations placed on them to do anything improve their situation, is going to destroy any system sooner or later.”

Lucas cut in smoothly. “As I said, you have to lift yourself up first before you can be of any help to someone else. Our town is still struggling to lift ourselves, and any help we can spare has to go to those who are worst off in our own community. Rogers wants to chuck a boulder on our backs and sit back to watch it crush us.”

Grimes leaned back again, staring at the ceiling as he considered. “So, basically, your town is barely on the verge of making it, and according to you Major Rogers put you in a position where instead you’d fail. At which point you’d be in just as bad a position as the refugees he wanted you to help, and in need of aid yourselves. Which helps no one.”

The Aspen Hill representatives nodded their agreement of his assessment. “I was originally part of a group of refugees that came to Aspen Hill,” Ben said. “I understand the situation very well from both sides of it. And with that perspective I have to ask: wouldn’t you rather have a town that’s able to fend for itself and survive the winter and whatever comes next, without needing help from you?”

Grimes closed his eyes. “28 wounded and crippled veterans?” he verified.

“And 31 people from the refugee camp, including families,” Lucas confirmed. “An influx of newcomers that that makes up a comparatively small but significant percentage of the town’s total population. It’s already a tremendous strain on our infrastructure, even though we were careful to ensure that the people we accepted in could be of use to the town. Rogers might not like the fact that we picked the best people available, but there was no other way we could reasonably do it.”

The colonel abruptly turned to Ed, making him jump slightly in surprise. “You’ve been quiet since you got here,” he snapped. “Let’s hear it from you.”

Swallowing, Ed nodded gamely, although he could’ve done without being put on the spot like this. “My friends have explained the situation clearly and honestly,” he said, glad his voice came out steady. “I don’t have much to add, aside from a simple request. If you can’t decide who’s correct in this dispute then come and look at the situation with your own eyes. We’re in the right and we’ve told the honest truth, so we can invite you to our town with complete confidence.”

“I see.” Grimes glanced down at his overflowing desk. “I’m dealing with hundreds of thousands of people in this area. With all the fires I have to personally put out, let alone the reports from my subordinates on countless others, I barely have time to sleep and see to personal hygiene. And that’s usually either/or. I can’t make a day of it to check up on a few hundred people when I’ve already delegated responsibility for them to a subordinate.”

Ed couldn’t fail here. “Lives are at stake,” he said quietly. “If not you then at least send someone you trust to be objective.”

The senior officer sighed. “Thank you for coming. I’ll make sure you have food and a place to sleep for now. Whatever I can do to help you, it has to take a backseat to more pressing problems. It might be a few days.”

That seemed like an encouraging answer to Ed, but he could see the others didn’t share his relief. “We might not have a few days,” Lucas warned. “We can’t wait around lost in the shuffle when anything might be happening back home.”

Grimes rapped his knuckles on his desk, a sign of his growing impatience. “There are radio operators in camp you can get in touch with. If you get word of a disaster back home I’d be willing to give you a second hearing, otherwise you’ll have to wait your turn. You’re not the only one facing disasters and with lives at stake.” He stood, a clear dismissal.

Ben opened his mouth to protest further, but Ed quickly cut in. “Thank you for your time, Colonel. We know you’ll do whatever you can.” Catching the refugee leader’s arm, he started for the exit as the rest of the group reluctantly followed behind.

They might wait around for days until they were completely forgotten, unable to get another meeting and finally forced to return home in failure. But antagonizing the one person who might be willing to help them wasn’t going to improve the situation any. At this point they just had to stick around and hope Grimes was as fair as he seemed.

In the waiting room the colonel’s aide arranged for a handy soldier to escort them to a spot in a nearby barracks tent that had a few billets open. Before taking Carrie on to where the female soldiers were quartered their escort gave them a quick rundown on meal times and camp protocol, as well as inviting them to explore the refugee camp if they found the military camp’s movement restrictions too confining.

Carrie promised to rejoin them once her sleeping situation was arranged, and in the meantime they saw to finding an out of the way spot to park the mule where they could be sure it wouldn’t be messed with. Once that was done there wasn’t much else on the agenda.

“So what do we do now?” Ben grumbled, staring at the busy camp in dissatisfaction. Ed shared his feelings, considering how much there was to do back home.

Surprisingly, Lucas didn’t. His old friend grinned and stretched slightly. “Well since we have time to burn, I could remind you we are in the center of commerce and civilization for what remains of the US of A. Now’s a good time to make connections, locate traders, and put together deals that might benefit the town.”

“We don’t have anything to trade,” Ed pointed out. “All we’ve got with us is the mule, a bit of diesel, and our weapons and gear.”

“Depending on how things go with Colonel Grimes we might end up wanting to sell the mule and hitch a ride back with the military,” Lucas replied. “It’s not going to do us much good with not even enough fuel to get home. As for not having anything to trade…” he shrugged. “We’ve got things to trade back home, everything from scavenged items to valuables and nonessentials we can afford to lose. We might even be able to arrange future deals, like I plan to do for my son if I can find a source of reloading materials.”

Ben was nodding thoughtfully. “We do represent the town. I suppose finding trade opportunities is a better way to spend our time than sitting on these cots twiddling our thumbs.”

Ed hesitated, then nodded as well. This was a good opportunity to do more for Aspen Hill than just wait for a response from Grimes. Assuming they still had a town to come home to by the time the colonel got around to doing something. “Agreed. Although we need to keep someone here at all times who knows where everyone’s going to be, in case Colonel Grimes calls us in.”

“Good thinking.” Lucas clapped him on the shoulder, grin widening. “You volunteering to take first shift?”

Blast, he’d walked into that. “I guess,” he agreed glumly, settling down on his cot.

Oh well, he wouldn’t have even known where to begin searching through a refugee camp for people to trade with, or how to arrange deals if he found someone. Lucas had a better head for logistics, Ben had more experience with refugee camps as well as more knowledge of the town’s situation as a leader, and Scott had decades of experience as a business owner. And as a trained soldier Carrie would be more useful to have along in case of trouble.

On the plus side, at least he had something to do.

* * *

Chauncey relayed the word about the group sent to talk to the military.

Trev didn’t like the idea of days of delay when Rogers might decide to try something at any moment. Even if Grimes eventually decided to act in their favor, it wouldn’t mean much if a tragedy had already taken place.

His mood wasn’t improved by the fact that in spite of doing all he could to prepare for when-or if-the major returned, once that was done it was hard to get to the more normal work. Especially since he wasn’t sleeping well thanks to worry and, well, Deb.

The brown-haired woman’s fragile mental state had taken a turn for the worse with the fear that the town might come under attack. The idea that her safe refuge might not be so safe had had her waking him up for the last two nights to sit with her for reassurance.

That had given him more incentive to get back to building his room now that the barn was finished, so her visits wouldn’t risk bothering his family in their attempts to sleep. So far he thought Deb had managed to get his attention without disturbing anyone else, at least not too much, but it was still an awkward situation.

He’d barely been paying attention to the date, so it was a surprise while doing the morning chores when Matt came around and asked him to help coordinate the commemoration.

“Of what?” he asked, setting down the length of fence he’d been moving.

His friend gave him an odd look. “The Gulf refineries attack. It’s been a year. I thought we should have a small ceremony in memory of our lost friends and loved ones, maybe fly the flag to show that the United States of America still lives on.”

Only a year. It felt like it’d been so much longer, to the point where how he’d lived before was a fading memory. Trev nodded soberly. “All right. Between my work seeing to the town’s defenses I’ll go around to the defenders and see who wants to pitch in.”

“Good. I think we should have it in the field just north of town, closer to the road. The animals haven’t been at the grass there as much, and it’s close enough to the stream to be green. We can set up a small stage with packing crates or something, trot out the sound system for some appropriate music, mix up the usual powdered drinks, maybe try to put together some decorations. Think we can manage that by this evening?”

Trev shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Although as a rule it’s usually good to start preparing a few days in advance, mostly to let people know it’s happening.”

Matt grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, actually you’re not the only one who forgot. We’ve had a lot on our plate lately, and since this is the first year we can’t really call it a tradition.”

“Gotcha.” Trev glanced over his friend’s shoulder and saw Deb approaching from her cabin, looking as exhausted as he felt. “We’ll get started after chores.”

“Thanks.” His friend nodded to them both. “And good morning, Deb.”

“Hey, Matt,” she said tiredly. Matt gave her a slightly concerned look, then shrugged and headed off to do his own organizing. Once he was gone Deb turned to Trev, looking almost fearful. “What are we getting started on?”

“Commemorating the Gulf refineries attack one year ago,” Trev replied, getting back to his chores as the brown-haired woman moved to help.

She looked relieved. “Oh. I thought it was bad news about Rogers.” She brightened. “He wants us to help with the preparations?” He nodded. “Good! I always liked setting up a party.”

Trev wasn’t sure he’d call it that, but he wasn’t about to jump on her for a harmless slip. He was just tired and on edge from everything that was going on.

Working together they finished up their chores, and Trev popped in to tell his family what he was doing. Minor alarm bells rang when he saw that Jim and Linda were nowhere to be seen, and his mom and dad were standing shoulder to shoulder in that “unified front” stance he remembered from the few times he’d been in serious trouble as a kid.

“Have a seat, Trevor,” his mom said gently but firmly, motioning. Not to his cot, nearest the door, but to Linda’s closest to the stove. Which would effectively put him where they could corner him for a serious discussion.

Just that suddenly he felt like a kid again, and it was an effort not to hunch his shoulders guiltily. “Um, Matt wanted me and Deb to help him set up a ceremony to commemorate the Gulf refineries attack,” he hedged.

His dad glanced apologetically at Deb, who’d been peeking inside curiously around Trev’s arm. “Good morning, Deb. Could you give us a few minutes with our son?”

“Of course, Mr. Smith,” she said. They were all familiar enough by this point that she usually called his parents by their first names, but she’d caught on to the mood. “I’ll get started with Gutierrez, then probably Trent.”

Blast, she was happy to send him into the lion’s den. Trev couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done here, but his parents were generally easygoing so it had to be something. He reluctantly shut the door behind him as Deb waved and walked off, then trudged to plop down on the edge of Linda’s cot.

“Okay, let me have it.”

His parents sat down across from him on their own bed, looking as serious as Trev had ever seen them. “You’re not in trouble, son,” his dad began. “But I think we need to have a serious discussion.”

Those two statements seemed contradictory. “About what?” he asked warily.

His mom took a breath. “We’d like to ask you a few questions. I don’t want you to give knee jerk answers, or actually really any answers at all. I want you to keep emotion out of it and do your best to look at the questions from all angles. In fact, I don’t even want you to assume that the questions I’m asking beg a certain correct answer, or that any answer is correct.”

Trev’s wariness was giving way to pure confusion. “What?”

They were both having trouble meeting his eyes, especially his dad, who was staring awkwardly somewhere off to his right. He seemed content to let Clair do the talking for them. “First, is it possible that you can’t give Deb the help she needs?” she began.

The question, circumspectly approached as it was, still hit Trev like a load of bricks. “What?” he said again, anger instantly there.

His mom held up a stern hand. “No emotion, no knee jerk responses.”

“Forget that!” Trev said, starting to stand. Only then did he remember that his parents had picked their seats to put him against the wall. That just made him angrier. “Do you go and sit Lewis down when Jane walks off in the middle of a conversation without a word? Do I go all psychoanalyst when Mary starts humming songs pertaining to whatever situation she’s in because she’s too shy to talk?”

“She does what?” his dad asked, looking befuddled.

Trev ignored him. “How about when Linda can’t seem to figure out the world’s ended and still insists on acting like a spoiled princess? Have you sat her down for a “serious discussion”? Did you corner Jim about how he makes it worse by getting on her case in all the wrong ways that won’t solve anything?”

Their expression had grown more stern. “Please, Trev,” his mom said. “We’re not just talking about personality quirks or sibling rivalry here. Deb’s been through serious trauma, and it really looks like—” she abruptly cut off. “No, sorry. You’re right, we’re not going to analyze her state of mind. We really do just want to ask some questions and have you seriously consider them.”

Trev sat. He loved and respected his parents, and he knew they had his best interests at heart. But he really, really wasn’t a fan of this situation. The best he could do was sit and wait for her to continue.

His mom took another breath. “Second. Is it possible that the help you’re giving her might not be beneficial to either of you?”

A short silence settled. Trev was keeping quiet mostly because he was afraid anything he said would become another outburst.

His parents seemed to realize it. “And finally,” his mom said. “People jokingly call Deb your deputy because she’s always at your side. Do you think it’s healthy that she’s afraid to be alone, or even around other people besides you, and depends on your presence for her emotional peace of mind? Even when it’s detrimental to you, like when she regularly wakes you up at night to reassure her?”

Trev gave a start of surprise. He hadn’t realized anyone else knew about that. Sure, maybe they’d seen it happen once or twice. But he’d thought nobody knew it was a common occurrence.

“You and mom are practically joined at the hip whenever you can manage it,” he shot off. It was a cheap retort, and lacked any conviction.

“Again, you know it’s not the same,” his mom answered. She leaned forward to put a hand on Trev’s knee. “I know you care about Deb, honey. I care about her too, and so does everyone else. We want her to be able to get past what she’s suffered. But that might mean that she needs to face her problems head on rather than hiding behind you to escape them. I know we don’t have any licensed therapists in town, but there are people she could talk to. You know things will only get worse if you let them continue like they are.”

Trev closed his eyes. “All right, I’ll consider your questions.” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice as he continued. “If you’ll consider that maybe being around someone safe and familiar until she’s had time to recover from what she suffered is exactly what she needs.”

His dad finally spoke up. “We did consider that, son. My motto has always been to avoid butting into other people’s relationships, since it usually doesn’t help and only makes everyone angry at you. But things seem to be getting worse with your situation, and you know I have to have serious concerns if I’m speaking up now. Concerns your mother and many others share.”

Many others. Trev was surprised the busybodies hadn’t all packed into this small room for their little intervention. He stood again, more controlled this time. His parents silently shifted to let him by, and he wasted no time leaving.

All things considered he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Deb at the moment, not with all his parents’ doubts packed into his mind. But when he went around to Gutierrez’s house his friend told him she hadn’t been by yet, and Trent told him the same at the Lincoln cabin. She seemed to have disappeared.

In a way that was a relief. He was certain nothing had happened to her in the middle of town, and tracking her down gave him time to think about what to do about her. About them. It wasn’t an easy decision, but he wasn’t about to ignore his parents if the situation was raising red flags.

And to be honest he’d been sorting though his own concerns about how Deb’s state didn’t seem to be improving, was probably even worsening due to the added strain of Rogers and his threats, and nothing he tried seemed to help. Maybe her dependence on him really was the problem, keeping her from pushing through the pain to sort through her issues and move on.

If so then he had to convince her to take a break for her sake. It hurt to feel like he was turning her away, but knowing that he’d hindered her recovery would be even worse.

He still hadn’t found her when he finally decided. It would be a painful thing to do and he’d miss her, but even so he’d encourage her to take a break from volunteering with the defenders, explore other pursuits in town besides always being one step away from the conflict. Which couldn’t be good for her anyway.

And he’d encourage her to build close friendships with people besides him, start to integrate herself in the community rather than being his shadow. He knew Sam, April, Alice, and the women in Jane’s group had already reached out to her, and were being patient in spite of her rebuffs. And he knew she was comfortable around Grant, Trent, Rick, Scott, and most of the other volunteers she’d fought beside near Highway 31. Hopefully away from him she could build those acquaintanceships into true friendships.

Maybe his parents were right that this would be best for the woman he was coming to care for more and more. He just hoped she saw it that way.

And wasn’t this the perfect time to worry about all this, when at any moment the military could be knocking down the door and coming in guns blazing to steal all their food? Some things couldn’t wait, though.

* * *

Lewis was quickly coming to the conclusion that fodder was going to be a major hassle.

Although maybe “hassle” was too mild a word. Cutting, gathering and bundling it by hand, with no machinery or even horse-drawn tools, was a deceptively time consuming and laborious task. And Chauncey and Hailey had made it pretty clear that although goats and sheep didn’t eat anywhere near as much as cows or horses, they could still pack it away.

Ironic wasn’t exactly the proper term, but central Utah was known for producing hay as one of its main crops. It was too bad the blockheads had been in such an arsonous mood when they left, because otherwise there probably would’ve been countless fields and barns around here with dozens of bales just lying there, unsold and unused with no fuel to ship them to buyers. But since hay was useful and convenient for burning they’d probably gone out of their way to torch it wherever they found any.

Actually that was a thought. Even trying their best the blockheads couldn’t have gotten it all, and there were areas they hadn’t reached and possibly people who’d found it valuable enough to justify the labor of moving it to safety. Even now there could be a lot more hay around here than animals to eat it, especially after a year of struggling to survive led to the slaughter of so much livestock.

Lewis had the handcart, and the town had other carts and wagons available. It might be worth asking around the area to see if anyone was willing to trade for hay. They might even be able to get it cheap. He’d have to talk to Chauncey about it.

At the moment he was in the barn, calculating space in the floor and loft areas and deciding how much fodder they could store and how the livestock stalls should be arranged. He was glad they’d built for extra space, anticipating future prosperity, because short term it also made the job of fitting everything in easier.

Assuming they had the fodder to fit in.

That was one important plan they’d have to make as soon as the first snows fell. If they didn’t have enough for all the animals to eat through the winter they’d want to butcher the surplus immediately, so they didn’t eat any more fodder. That would leave more for the rest and allow for more in total to stay alive. They’d probably want to butcher a few animals anyway, those too old to reproduce and any redundant bucks and rams.

That was a small number, which was great news for the herds going forward since it meant almost every animal was potentially productive. Now whether the townspeople could survive through the winter on the food they had, and might need to butcher more to stay alive, was another question entirely.

Although none of the shelter group’s animals would be harvested for meat if he could do anything to avoid it, that was for sure.

“Lewis?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Lewis turned to see Deb standing just inside the wide open barn doors. “Hi,” he said. “Looking for Trev?”

For a moment she seemed almost angry, and maybe a little lost. “No.” She glanced around the empty space. “I, um, I’m trying to find ways to help out. Can I do anything here?”

The answer to that was mostly no, but at the same time he couldn’t refuse. If Aunt Clair and Uncle George had done their “intervention” with Trev, and Deb wasn’t currently glued to his side, that probably meant his cousin had convinced her to make some sort of change. That was something to encourage. Hopefully.

“Sure.” Lewis motioned to the small stack of crudely cut and baled fodder they’d already gathered. “I was just about to move those into the loft. Want to climb up there and I’ll hand them up to you?”

She nodded and started for the ladder. As she went Lewis grabbed the top bale and brought it over, starting up after her. But when he raised the burden overhead to hand to her she didn’t take it.

He looked up to see the brown-haired woman staring down at him, an odd expression on her face. “Everyone in your family got together and decided Trev’s mom and dad needed to convince him to stay away from me,” she said.

Lewis sighed and, with a quick heave, tossed the bale up beside her so he wouldn’t have to keep holding it. Then he leaned against the ladder. “They just wanted to voice their concern to Trev,” he explained. She didn’t answer. “So he already talked to you about it?”

Deb shook her head, more miserable than angry. “Linda did, right after their parents pulled him in to have their talk. She told me everything.”

Lewis shifted uncomfortably, wondering exactly what Linda had said. He was fond of his cousin, but he also knew what she was like. Had the girl said something that might hinder Trev’s chances of helping Deb, and maybe even hurt her? If the poor woman thought the entire family was against her where exactly did she go from there?

On the plus side, at least she was willing to approach him, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. “We’re worried for both of you,” he tried.

“I get it.” Deb smiled a bit bitterly. “The alarm bells start ringing when you see someone you care about getting followed around by a damaged girl who’s emotionally demanding and shuns physical intimacy.”

Lewis winced. It was great for her that she was willing to approach him, but it was awkward to be put on the spot like this. “That’s not how it is,” he said gently. “We all want things to work out for you. But you know things can’t keep going like they are.”

“I know.” She abruptly turned and grabbed the bale, hauling it farther back into the loft. “That’s why I’m here right now instead of trailing after him like a lost puppy. When he finally hunts me down and tells me we should take a break for our own good, I’ll go along and make it easy on him.”

Lewis felt a moment of helpless frustration. He didn’t want Deb felling like he thought she was baggage. He cared about and respected her. They all did. The problem was that Trev had gone overboard while trying to help her, in ways that weren’t good for either of them.

Still, one of the oldest bits of advice in existence was to not interfere in the romantic relationship of a loved one. Even if you were right, which wasn’t always the case, and even if you gave good advice to the couple, it rarely helped and usually just ended up with both people mad at you.

But whatever frustration he felt was at the situation, not at Trev or Deb. He just wanted to help them however he could. So he’d keep his mouth shut and let Deb vent if that was what she needed, or more preferably work comfortably beside her to show that being away from his cousin for a while might not be too bad after all.

Together they moved most of the bales up into the loft. Deb didn’t say anything after that, and either she was catching allergies from the crudely cut and baled meadow grass or she was crying, but Lewis gave her some space. He wasn’t sure if it was a relief or not when Trev finally showed up.

On the other hand his cousin looked seriously relieved to find Deb, and it was obvious he’d been looking for her. Lewis made a graceful exit from the barn to give them room to talk, hoping they could sort things through.

* * *

Since Lewis had given him a good excuse with finishing the work moving bales, Trev was more than happy to take it and postpone the inevitable for a few more minutes.

He could immediately tell something was wrong with Deb, though. Had she listened in to his conversation with his parents, or heard some other way? If so what would she think of people talking about her like she was a problem behind her back?

Finally, though, the last bale was arranged neatly in one corner of the large loft. Deb turned to look at him, and Trev had to remind himself not to brush a stray wisp of drying grass from her hair. Why did everything have to be so complicated when his feelings were so simple? “We need to talk.”

She gave him a resigned smile. “About the fact that I’m super clingy?”

So he’d guessed right and she already knew. He sighed. “I wanted a chance to talk things over with you without any jumping to conclusions.”

The brown-haired woman’s smile turned sad. “Too late, cat’s out of the bag. I don’t know if you knew this, but Linda’s already seeing wedding bells in our future. She’s a sweet girl, excited at the thought of having a sister. When she found out they were going to spring an intervention on you she let me know what was going on, and why everyone was worried for me.”

“Oh.” Linda had been very friendly with Deb, which was pretty noticeable since his sister… wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with. “What, um, do you think?”

Deb looked away. “I think it couldn’t hurt if I found other ways to be useful around town. Ways that let me connect with other people.” She shook her head, almost angrily. “And I should start letting you get a good night’s sleep. You need it with all the work you do.”

Trev was relieved that she was willing to take that step, but also a bit disappointed. He did enjoy having her around, and he didn’t want that to completely end. “We don’t have to cut off contact completely.”

Deb gave him a relieved look. Had she been thinking the same thing? “I’m glad that-I mean…” She took a deep breath and continued in a rush. “If we do want some hope of a normal future, it’s better if I step away for a while. I don’t want to be a burden, constantly weighing on you and using you to shield me from my issues. It doesn’t work and it’s not fair to either of us. I want to be more like Jane, a real partner where we strengthen and can depend on each other. I want you to be able to lean on me sometimes so you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Trev felt heat rising in his cheeks, and Deb blushed furiously as she blurted out the words. Even with all the time they’d spent together they’d both carefully danced around the romantic side of things. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking that way. “Maybe we can turn movie night into proper dates,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I can pick you up before dinner and have you home before midnight.”

She laughed, although it sounded like an excuse to relieve some tension. “Thanks for being patient with me,” she said quietly. “But I have to warn you that my problems aren’t going to go away overnight. Spending some time apart to correct unhealthy dependencies is a good start, but none of this is going to be easy for me. That’s not really fair to you.”

“You’re talking like being around you has been nothing but negatives,” Trev said. “I like being with you. I want you to do what you need to in order to heal from your experiences, but never think you’re just a burden.”

Deb looked away, tears in her eyes. “That means more than you think,” she whispered. She abruptly leaned in to put a hand on his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek, then started for the ladder. “Let’s give it a few weeks and go from there.”

Trev stayed where he was, watching her go. A few weeks felt like a long, long time. Concern for her aside, he wasn’t sure he could endure that. There was also the worry that stepping back would give her some perspective, and she might decide she was better off without him and make a clean break after all.

Or it might give her a different kind of perspective, and when they got back together the relationship could grow more naturally. He could only hope. Whatever happened he could live with, as long as it helped her heal after what she’d been through.

Chapter Ten

Unwelcome Guests

Matt wasn’t sure whether or not the evening commemoration of the Gulf refineries attack, and all who’d died during it and since, had improved the mood in town or made it worse. On the one hand it gave those who’d suffered losses a chance to grieve. On the other it reminded the townspeople that everything was messed up.

Just when they thought their troubles with the blockheads were over, and they could fully focus on their troubles with the upcoming nuclear winter, suddenly more men with guns roll around to cause problems they might not be able to handle. Sometimes life just decided to keep grinding you down beyond the point where you could take it.

Whatever the mood, attendance at the ceremony looked to be nearly the entire town. Hundreds of people packed into the meadow, including those who usually didn’t bother coming to town events. Only Trev’s defenders on patrol and sentry duty weren’t able to participate, although many came to pay their respects beforehand or intended to do so afterwards.

That included Trev himself, who’d swapped shifts to go out patrolling. Matt wasn’t sure what had brought that on, but from the general whispers around the shelter group he had a feeling his friend was having problems with Deb. Some sort of argument, maybe. Matt missed him being there, but he could understand the need to get away sometimes.

The ceremony itself was fairly simple. Matt had staked out a spot where people could leave mementos of those they’d lost, with the intention that once times were better the town would put up a monument here engraved with all those names. He’d also roped off a modest sized plot in the meadow to be converted into a memorial park when times were better. The other town leaders had approved the idea, and were there along with almost everyone else in town laying down mementos.

Matt gave a short speech, feeling awkward and inadequate to be addressing such a serious topic. From there he let the event progress in a more organic fashion as people filed respectfully past the monument location. Final goodbyes were offered, prayers said, and tears shed. People clung tightly to their loved ones through it all.

Including Sam, who wouldn’t let him take his arms from around her except to greet their friends and neighbors. She was quiet and subdued, dark eyes shiny with tears for her own loved ones lost in New York. Matt knew things hadn’t been perfect with her family, but the grief was just as strong over missed opportunities. He knew she kept that grief buried deep and rarely mentioned her past or speculated on the fate of those she’d left behind back east, but it still weighed on her.

He wished he could think of anything to do for her there, and felt a bit selfish being so glad his own immediate family was safe with him. There were others in his extended family whose fate was unknown and not looking good, and he grieved them, but he couldn’t fully know what his wife was going through. He could only imagine, and that made him hold her all the closer.

Whatever the ceremony did for morale, it definitely seemed to bolster everyone’s determination to push forward. The next day marked one of the most productive Aspen Hill had seen. Considering how hard everyone had been working even at the worst times getting ready for the winter, that was something remarkable to see. For a time, at least, people seemed to have pushed aside the specter of Rogers and the trouble that loomed over the town. They were getting back to their lives, which was a relief to see.

It wasn’t to last, though. Three days later, five days after the major came for their surplus food, they finally found out how he intended to respond to being run out of town.

* * *

It started late in the afternoon, when Trev on far patrol tersely radioed in to report that he’d seen a large group of refugees approaching on foot.

Matt felt a sinking in his gut at the news. This had been the most likely way Rogers would come at them, by simply sending the refugees he’d demanded the town take in. That would put them in the uncomfortable position of having to turn them back, with all the attendant guilt, and he’d be able to blast them in the court of public opinion.

“Is it the 220 women and children Rogers wanted us to take?” he asked his friend, giving Sam and the rest of his family a reassuring look as he stepped into his boots, grabbed his M16, and headed out the door. The gun certainly wouldn’t be used in this situation, but taking it was second nature to him now.

“I wish,” Trev replied grimly, voice staticky over the radio from a distance. “We’ve got adult males, mostly between the ages of 20 and 35 as far as I can see. I’m still counting, but a rough estimate puts them at around a thousand.”

Matt stumbled over nothing, heart suddenly pounding in his ears as a ball of pure panic and dread slammed into his gut. A thousand. That was more than the entire town’s population. There was no way Rogers could’ve thought they’d even be able to take in so many, let alone would agree to it, and the chance of violence resulting from it was incredibly high. Was the man insane?

Chauncey’s voice joined in. “How far out?”

“They don’t seem to be in any hurry,” Trev replied. “I’d say we’ve got two hours before they reach town. Although I strongly advise against letting them get anywhere near us.”

“I agree completely,” Matt said. He made for the town hall tent, as the central location in town and the spot where the most people tended to be found. “Listen up, everyone. We’re going to gather every single person in town who can competently carry a gun, then we’re going to meet these refugees on the road and turn them back politely but firmly. We leave in a half hour.”

That sounded like a long time, but when it came to gathering and gearing up hundreds of people, not to mention preparing them for a confrontation, it wasn’t nearly enough. If he’d just rounded up the defenders they could’ve been gone much faster, but he didn’t think sixty or so people, even well armed and equipped, would be enough to scare off a thousand men if they were determined to keep coming.

Aspen Hill needed a serious show of force.

Speaking of numbers… “Trev, can you see how many of these guys are armed?” he asked as he ducked into the town hall tent, where several of the town leaders and a dozen people had already arrived.

There was a long pause. “I think it’s good news there, at least,” his friend replied. “I don’t see any weapons at all aside from knives, walking sticks, and a few hunting bows and crossbows. These guys don’t seem to have many possessions aside from the clothes on their backs, and definitely no supplies.”

Well that was good and bad news. It meant they’d be easier to deal with and probably wouldn’t try anything, but if they had no supplies they’d also be more desperate.

Matt wasn’t sure what Rogers thought the end result would be of this tactic, but it obviously wouldn’t be a good outcome for any of them. And while the thousand refugees headed their way represented a threat and a problem, he still pitied them for being dragged into this as pawns in the camp coordinator’s scheming.

He made his way over to Chauncey first. “I’m already on the radio about this,” the retired teacher said. “Although Rogers has the edge on us here since he sent these people, so he’s had days to justify it and fabricate a story.”

“What story?” Matt demanded.

The older man grimaced and scratched the end of his stump. He usually took off his prosthetic when he was manning the radio, since he spent a lot of his time there and the wooden limb was uncomfortable. At first he’d kept it on when people were around, slightly self-conscious about it, but since that wasn’t really practical in the town’s hub he’d become more relaxed.

“Nothing complex, which doesn’t help us any,” Chauncey admitted. “Word around is that we agreed to take in the people he’s sending our way. The story broke just hours ago, and I didn’t link it to us since our town wasn’t mentioned by name.”

“We agreed?” Matt said incredulously. “To take in more than our entire population in young, single male refugees?”

“I’m spreading the truth as best I can,” his friend said grimly. “But in the meantime we’ve got a thousand displaced people to deal with and it’s our word against Rogers’s. We’re not going to come out of this looking any better.”

“Speaking of which, I’d better get to dealing with those thousand refugees.” Matt clapped the retired teacher on the shoulder and turned to the gathering group. “All right, everyone. Let’s coordinate to split up and scour the town for as many townspeople as we can get to come with us, as long as they can keep up a reasonable pace for a half hour or more. We want everyone armed with rifles, body armor for as many as we can, dark clothing if possible so we look more coordinated and competent. Emphasize that we’re not going to a fight, just to intimidate them into turning back. I don’t expect violence, but don’t dismiss the possibility.”

In a few minutes he’d gotten almost everyone split up to their tasks. As for the dozens of people who’d already gathered, curious about what was going on, he started organizing them in handing out the town’s store of weapons, ammo, and other gear. He also put the obvious noncombatants to work sorting out enough water and provisions to last everyone the night if necessary, including camping gear to that list. Most people were sensible enough to have prepared packs with the essentials, and the others quickly ran home to throw them together.

Lewis, Gutierrez, Jane, Trent, Rick, Alice, and others he could depend on quickly arrived to pitch in. Matt put them to work splitting everyone into squads, with them and others among the most competent volunteers and defenders as leaders. He declined to lead his own squad, since he’d need to focus on his role as Mayor and spokesman.

Too bad Trev seemed determined to be out on his own the last few days. Matt was all for leading by example and being willing to do the less desirable tasks and all that, and Trev was definitely doing an important job scouting the approaching refugees to make sure there were no surprises.

Even so, he would’ve preferred if the leader of the town’s defenses was actually here, leading its defenses.

In his friend’s absence he assigned Gutierrez to lead the group, with Lewis as his lieutenant in charge of the volunteers and defenders who’d be out in front. With the group well in hand, that gave Matt and the town leaders breathing room to focus on how they’d approach negotiating with the refugees to turn them back.

There were roughly four hundred rifles in town between what they’d originally had, what they’d gotten from Turner’s raiders, and the far larger number the volunteers had captured from the blockheads. After the prolonged fight with the Gold Bloc they’d used up all their grenades and Molotov cocktails, and likewise their M2s and missile launchers were either destroyed or out of ammo and had been traded to the military for supplies. They had a modest supply of pepper spray and a bit of other riot control gear, but not enough to handle even a few dozen people, let alone a thousand.

Just in case this was some trick of Rogers’s to lure out all of Aspen Hill’s defenses so he could come in and occupy the vulnerable town, Matt took only 300 townspeople with him when they were ready to leave. He left the rest of the weapons and several defenders behind, led by Jane with Deb and Grant assisting her. There were enough pistols to arm a large portion of the townspeople if those leaving to handle the refugees left behind their sidearms, but Matt wasn’t sure that was wise.

In the end he left the best balance of weapons he could to keep the town safe, while still presenting a strong show of force to the approaching mob. Although he worried for those he left behind as he, Gutierrez, and Lewis led their own mob out to meet them.

They started off at a jog until they reached the base of the valley’s western slope, and took it at a fast walk until they reached the top. There they jogged again along the slight downward slant of the road until it evened out, where he let them slow to a normal walk to let them catch their breaths and ease burning calves.

Nobody in town was eating well, and although everyone was in decent shape thanks to constant work, that work also left them worn down. It was a hard pace to maintain, but every foot they managed to go before encountering the refugees meant one foot farther from town they’d turn the men back, in case there was trouble.

Worst case scenario would be if the refugees outright attacked them and by some miracle won, took their weapons, and continued on to Aspen Hill. But it would also be pretty bad if they decided to split up into dozens or even hundreds of small groups and dispersed into the countryside. The town could find itself beset on all sides, hassled, aggravated, and forced to constantly deal with unruly intruders.

Or maybe they’d get lucky. Maybe Matt could convince these guys this was all a misunderstanding and they should head back to the refugee camp. And maybe roast geese would drift down from the sky beneath parachutes made of down comforters, and they’d all get a nice meal and a good night’s sleep.

Trev met up with them 40 minutes later, a bit more than 3 miles from town. He’d been radioing in regular reports as they ran, confirming the refugees were sticking to the road and hadn’t sent out scouts. They’d moved even slower than his friend had predicted, and while Matt still wasn’t best pleased with how close they were to the valley, at least they were farther than they could be.

On Trev’s advice they sent a dozen people in pairs out to circle around the footsore horde and watch them from all sides. The rest of the town’s show of force set up in an ideal spot along the road to confront them, waiting behind a ridgeline until the refugees got close, then in good order coming into view as a long line with three ranks.

The men below immediately halted, milling on the verge of panic as they tried to figure out what was going on. They obviously hadn’t expected to be greeted by hundreds of armed men and women, a group that was obviously far too large and well equipped to be bandits. Again Matt felt a surge of pity for the poor people, but there was no help for it.

This problem wasn’t of his making, but he was the one who had to deal with it.

At the same time that was a lot of people down there. It wasn’t as if Matt hadn’t seen crowds before, even ones much larger than this. And just days ago he’d addressed practically the whole town at the commemoration, which had been nearly this many people. Still, the knowledge that even if the refugees were friendly they presented an issue for the town, and if they were unfriendly a potential threat, made the numbers far more daunting.

Since the ragged men obviously had no intention of continuing forward, and they didn’t seem to have any leaders or representatives to send, Matt started down the road to get within shouting distance. He had a megaphone with him, but he didn’t want to be that impersonal, and he also wanted to be able to hear the refugees’ response to what he said.

He also had body armor and a helmet on, which he was grateful for as he got farther and farther from the support of his friends and neighbors lined up behind him. That vulnerability was mostly an illusion, since he was still within a hundred yards of his people and there were plenty of awfully good shooters among the defenders and volunteers. He was well covered and had a clear line of retreat if things went south.

Still, Matt couldn’t help but think of John Anderson, who’d been Mayor before Catherine, way back at the beginning when the Gulf burned. The man had gone out to confront Razor and his mob of 50 gang members as they swarmed into Aspen Hill to attack the town storehouse, and had wound up getting shot in the head for his troubles.

He sincerely hoped Trev was right and there weren’t any weapons down there. Or if there were, that his gear would protect him.

A small huddle of men separated from the group and tentatively edged forward. None spoke, so Matt called out. “Did you come from the refugee camp?”

One of the men nervously shouted back. “Yeah. We’re being sent to some place called Aspen Hill. They agreed to take us in.”

That seemed to confirm what Chauncey had told him. Matt thought a few choice epithets for Rogers as he raised his voice even louder. “I’m afraid there’s been a miscommunication. I’m the Mayor of Aspen Hill, and I was told nothing of any refugees being sent to us.”

There were murmurs of dismay and the beginnings of irritation from the refugees. They’d come a long way with no supplies, and had been depending on finding a welcoming refuge at the end of their hike. “If you didn’t know we were coming how did you have an army ready for us?” the self-appointed spokesman demanded suspiciously.

Matt shrugged and told the truth. “Good lookouts and being prepared to respond quickly.”

There wasn’t much the man could say to that, and most of the bluster went out of him. “So what now?” he asked.

Matt took a breath. “Aspen Hill doesn’t have the resources to take you in, or even provide you with food to help you get back to the refugee camp.” He was about to add “I’m sorry” and forcefully restrained himself.

Catherine had made it pretty clear that in a leadership position he should never use that term in commiseration or to empathize, since it could too easily be received as an admission of guilt or liability. Unless he, and by association the town he represented, had actually done something he needed to apologize for, those words should never leave his mouth.

Besides, there were other ways to express commiseration. “You have our deepest sympathy for your situation, and our prayers go with you. But the mistake was on the military’s end and they’ll have to fix it. We’ve already radioed them and let them know of your situation so they can send help, which will hopefully be quick in coming. Until then I suggest you turn around and start back.”

“How?” another man demanded angrily. “We were told it was going to be less than a day’s hike to where we were going, and help would be waiting for us. It’s going to be dark soon and we have barely any tents and no food. Some of us don’t even have blankets or sleeping bags, or even warm clothing. We could freeze to death out here!”

Every instinct screamed for Matt to again sympathize but remain firm. He thought a few more curses Roger’s way, hoping the man saw some reckoning for this. “Give me a second,” he called. It didn’t feel good to turn his back on so many angry men, but he tried to keep his posture confident as he started back up the hill to confer with the town leaders.

There weren’t many of the main ones here. Chauncey was back in town, Lucas, Ben, and Scott were out trying to get help from Colonel Grimes, which was all the more important. But Catherine, Carol Clarkson, Tam Raymond, and Terry were all there. He gathered them around, along with Lewis, Trev, Rick, and Gutierrez, and presented the plight of the refugees.

Catherine immediately shook her head. “The town’s problems with refugees just after the Gulf burned started when we gave them water and weren’t strict enough about insisting they leave. Any gesture we make here could become an excuse for them to hang around and cause problems. We could have a dozen more Razors to deal with if we’re not careful.”

Terry cut in equally vehemently. “This isn’t just about perception. It doesn’t have to be too cold before you need to start worrying about hypothermia, and at this time of year up here in the mountains at night we’re well past that point, and probably would be even without the nuclear winter effect. If those men are forced to camp right here on the road with inadequate shelter people could die.”

The former Mayor shrugged grimly. “Everything’s a matter of life and death these days. They can huddle together for warmth and share whatever tents and blankets they have. It’s not ideal, but we cannot let them think they’ll get anything from us. We need them to turn around and leave, the sooner the better. Our responsibility is to the town.”

Matt again had a new appreciation for Anderson, who’d called Trev and Lewis unChristian for insisting they couldn’t afford to share any food with the refugees last fall. The cousins had been right, but even so it was a painful decision to make.

Where was the line when you refused a helping hand to a fellow human being due to self interest? For some there was no line, they wouldn’t do it ever, and those people were usually held in contempt. Then again, those who gave everything they had tended to quickly become in desperate need of help themselves, and did little good for the world.

What a mess. He could see why Catherine had finally stepped down from this position, after so long buckling under the burden of carrying all the responsibility for the town and making these sorts of no-win decisions.

“How about fires?” he asked. “We’ve got plenty of people with hatchets and even a few axes, and we’ve got more than enough helping hands to gather deadfall. We can at least make sure they have as comfortable a night as possible under the circumstances, and we wouldn’t be giving them anything but our time.”

Everyone was nodding thoughtfully, but it was obvious Catherine didn’t like even that. “I think it’ll still give them the wrong message about leaving.”

Matt bit back a sigh. “From the looks of things we’re probably going to all have to camp here ourselves to keep an eye on them and make sure they leave in the morning. We can be kind tonight, and stern tomorrow.”

Trev nodded. “I like it. Sort of a “we did what we could to help you, but now look at all these guns and see we mean business, so please go back the way you came.”

“Besides,” Lewis added. “If we handle this right it’ll make us look better than if we turned them away completely. Even if we’re in the right we still have to consider how everyone else will view us. Moral considerations aside, if some of the refugees died of the cold people would probably lay the blame on us instead of on Rogers.”

That was a good point, even if Matt didn’t like the pragmatism. He wanted to do things because they were right, not because of public image. Still, having that be a side benefit of kindness couldn’t be a bad thing. “All right, it looks like we’re having a campout.” He turned and started back towards the refugees.

* * *

They spent the hours until full dark setting up camps. The refugees complained, some of them bitterly, about the situation in general as well as the reception they’d received from Aspen Hill. Trev thought most of that was shattered hope, likely even more crushing after the year these men had to have been through.

The townspeople set up their tents on the ridge right where they were. It was uncomfortable with the elevation and no shelter from the wind blowing almost constantly from the northwest, but it gave them a good defensive position over the refugees setting up on the road below. Trev approved Matt’s decision.

Most of the time was spent gathering firewood and setting up fires. Nobody from Aspen Hill wanted to risk going in among the refugees, even in large groups, so they simply deposited enough firewood to accommodate a thousand men at the edge of the ramshackle camp, along with precious matches and other firestarting tools.

The refugees begged, whined, demanded, and even threatened for food and other supplies from the townspeople, but everything they said was met with polite refusal and a not so subtle display of enough firepower to gun them all down where they stood, if things turned violent. Eventually the ragged men resigned themselves to their situation and did their best to set up camp with what they had.

Trev couldn’t help but notice that the refugees built massive fires, which wasn’t a huge problem since they’d been given plenty of wood. Still, he couldn’t help but think of that old quote he’d heard so often on camping trips as a kid, the one about building large fires. With so little camping gear the refugees might’ve been better off huddling close to small fires, rather than sitting several feet away from a bonfire getting broiled in front with their backs to the frigid night air.

He set a strong watch around both camps that night, ensuring dozens of his people got poor sleep but they would all be forewarned if anything happened. Although he didn’t consider the refugees enemies and had no desire for violence, hard experience had made him cautious.

Luckily the night passed uneventfully, aside from sentries and even people who’d been in sleeping bags in their tents all night complaining about the cold wind the next morning. With his better gear Trev had barely even noticed while sleeping, although since he’d taken a watch he could definitely sympathize.

As planned, as soon as the sun started warming things up Matt had everyone gather up in their lines again, and he came down to politely but firmly insist that it was time for the refugees to turn back for the camp.

There was a lot of grumbling from the ragged men at that, and more than a few curses and angry shouts. But the truth was that the refugees were hungry and only going to get hungrier, and with it clear they wouldn’t be getting anything from Aspen Hill most reluctantly started back down the road.

A few groups broke off and disappeared into the surrounding countryside, though. Either they didn’t think they’d be welcome back in camp, or they thought they had good enough supplies to strike off on their own. That seemed like a recipe for potential banditry, and anyway the men might’ve had more nefarious reasons for heading off into the hills, so as Matt got the townspeople ready to return home Trev had a team of volunteers follow each group. He also split more defenders off to jog home at a faster pace and start patrolling the area around Aspen Hill. Last of all he assigned Trent to take twenty people and shadow the refugees to make sure they kept going back to Rogers’s camp, or report in if any of them did anything else.

Just before they left Lewis approached him and Matt, his expression suggesting he’d thought of something. “What is it?” Trev asked.

His cousin gave him a serious look. “I’d like to head to the refugee camp and see what I can learn there.”

That got their attention. “Are you crazy?” Matt demanded. “If Rogers’s people find out you’re from Aspen Hill they’ll arrest you.”

Trev agreed with the risk, although he could also see the merits of the idea. “Sounds good. Let’s get a team together and we’ll go.”

Lewis shook his head. “I’d prefer to go alone. More people means more attention, and Matt’s right that it’s dangerous. I’ll be more comfortable if I only have myself to worry about.” Before Trev could feel insulted by that his cousin continued. “Besides, you’ve got to focus on the town’s defenses.”

Matt nodded and gave Trev a stern look. “In town, by the way,” he added. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but no more being out on patrols and leaving a leadership gap during a crisis.”

Trev felt his face flush. He and Deb had been going out of their way to be where the other wasn’t since agreeing to take some time apart. Including, he guessed, her staying back in town to protect it while he was out here.

Still, his friend was right that he’d dropped the ball when it came to the sudden appearance of these refugees. He should’ve been there helping organize the townspeople to come out and meet the approaching mob in force. Gutierrez had done a good job, but it was a job he shouldn’t have had to do in the first place. “Right.”

Lewis cut in. “I’ll be going, then. I’d like to hurry, get around the refugees and get to the camp before them.”

Trev reluctantly nodded. “You sure you want to go alone? Not even someone to hang around outside the camp as backup in case something goes wrong?”

His cousin shook his head. “Things would be just as likely to go wrong for him as for me. Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Matt clapped Lewis on the shoulder. “Be careful, then. And if you can try to keep your eye out for any information Chauncey or your dad could use to help our cause, over the radio or with Grimes.”

Lewis patted his pocket. “I brought my phone to record this confrontation, in case we need to prove we aren’t at fault. I’ll see if I can get us something.”

Trev couldn’t believe his cousin had thought of that in all the confusion. And yet it was the sort of thing that could really save their bacon if the town was accused of misconduct.

The low tech existence they currently lived in made those sorts of precautions difficult, but he determined to charge his own phone, currently gathering dust in a plastic bin with so many of the family’s other high-tech relics of the past, and have it handy for the same reason. He’d also get more of the defenders to do the same.

After some hasty goodbyes from Gutierrez, Rick, and a few others Lewis clapped Trev on the upper arm. “Let Jane know I’ll be home by tomorrow morning if I can manage it.” With no more than that he turned and trotted off down the ridge, taking a path that would let him swing wide around the departing refugees below.

Trev joined the remaining townspeople in heading back, feeling a sense of foreboding. He had a lot of people out tracking a lot of potential problems, and there was plenty of danger to them if they encountered those problems. His defenders were careful, and he’d instructed them to make getting away safely and reporting in a priority, but he still worried for them.

He hoped they’d all be careful, Lewis included. Although if there was one thing he could trust, it was that his cousin was always cautious.

* * *

One person could travel faster than a thousand people on foot at the best of times, and in the shape Lewis was in he had no trouble reaching Rogers’s camp hours ahead of the refugees.

Even getting in without attracting notice from the soldiers guarding the camp and keeping the peace wasn’t especially difficult, since there were plenty of people coming and going on various tasks, or arriving from elsewhere seeking aid and refuge. It took Lewis less than a half hour to join up with a group of foragers gathering grass for some purpose, maybe to make mattresses or comforters, and return to camp with them chatting about mundane complaints like hunger and aches and pains.

Once inside the maze of poorly organized tents he drifted around to various groups of residents, sharing news of the outside world or even strips of venison jerky from his pack, as long as it got people talking about events closer to home.

A lot of what he picked up he already knew, from what Chauncey had relayed over the radio as well as what Dr. Langstrom, Robert, Hailey, and the other recruits had told him of their situation in camp. Resources were tight, freedom was restricted, and people were getting restless. Crime was running rampant and increasing in severity, there were frequent protests, all of which were ignored or suppressed, and there’d even been a few minor riots.

Nobody seemed to think Rogers was doing a good job, there was a great deal of resentment towards his soldiers, and more than a few people had already left in search of better camps, or even to strike out on their own. Basically anyone who’d already had the possessions and supplies were bailing, leaving only the most desperate and downtrodden behind.

The camp was quickly becoming a slum of the worst kind.

It took Lewis a while to hear anything about the thousand refugees Rogers had sent to Aspen Hill, and when he finally did it was indirectly. A snippet from an elderly woman gnawing on a piece of his jerky, information she tossed out while giving other news, about how Rogers rounding up the camp’s malcontents didn’t seem to have stopped the rising crime rates.

He politely interrupted the woman before she could move on to the state of the camp’s cooking. “He rounded up malcontents? Like protestors?”

She sniffed. “Protestors, petty thieves, rioters, and the sort of scum guilty of more serious crimes like attempting or even carrying out assault with deadly weapons, rape, and murder. Sent them all packing off east somewhere yesterday morning. None too soon, if you ask me, after he ignored what they were doing for so long even when we begged him to intervene. Not that it seems to be helping, since my friend’s daughter had her coat stolen this morning. The thug took it right off her back, said all sorts of terrible things about her to his friends while he did it, too. Poor girl’s lucky they didn’t do worse.”

“Terrible,” Lewis agreed sincerely, although inwardly he was steaming. He hadn’t expected Rogers to send pillars of the community Aspen Hill’s way, but that’s who he’d sent? Trying to kill two birds with one stone by reducing crime and unrest in his camp, and at the same time paying back the town full of people who’d challenged his authority by sending criminals their way?

Granted, most of the refugees were probably just desperate or frustrated, but if the major had really sent dangerous men along with the others, giving them a new place to prey upon victims, it went beyond unconscionable to outright evil.

Well whatever the camp coordinator had intended to happen, his plan had failed. Before too long all those refugees would be returning here and they’d be Rogers’s problem once again. Lewis sincerely felt for this woman, her family, and all the other innocents in camp who would once again be dealing with this. But he’d feel even worse if those problems had moved to Aspen Hill.

They’d faced enough trouble of that sort since the Gulf burned.

Over the next few hours he picked up plenty of useful information about the state of the camp, the disposition of Rogers and his soldiers, and even news about other camps and the world at large. He didn’t dare talk to any soldiers to see what they knew, and he wasn’t stupid enough to poke around in their barracks or headquarters tent in search of damning paperwork. There were no real trade opportunities here, even if he thought he could’ve snuck any deals past guards hostile to Aspen Hill, so all that was left to do was wait for the refugee men to arrive and see how they reported what had happened and how Rogers handled their return.

Lewis started drifting towards the eastern edge of camp, looking for signs of the large group of ragged men on the horizon. If nothing else it let him take his eyes off the squalor and suffering around him, which was a depressing sight. If the camp coordinator was mismanaging things this badly now, he shuddered to think how they’d fare when winter blew in.

The outcast refugees took even longer than he’d expected, likely due to exhaustion and depravation. The first thing Lewis noticed when they appeared along the road was that there were far fewer of them than there had been when he’d passed them this morning. Less than five hundred, at a quick count. He knew a hundred or so had split off to go their own way before the others had even left to return to the camp, and during the trip back it looked like more had made the same decision.

A lot more. He couldn’t see how that many people dispersed throughout the area wouldn’t be a huge problem for Aspen Hill and everyone else living within ten miles, including Rogers and his refugee camp. Travelers might be attacked, as well as foragers and hunters from the nearby towns and camps, and even isolated homes and smaller settlements might find themselves in danger.

And all for what? Because some town that hadn’t done anything to him refused to let him steal their food or dump more mouths to feed on them? For all the evil he’d done Ferris had simply been greedy, certain of his superiority, and completely lacking a conscience. On the other hand Rogers was looking more and more insane by the day, and to make it worse he wielded far more power than the FETF administrator ever had.

Either that or Rogers was getting desperate watching his camp fall apart, and in his flailing around grasped at solutions that only made things worse. Whatever the camp coordinator’s problem was, he needed to be relieved of command for what he was doing. Better yet court-martialed.

The second thing Lewis noticed was, if anything, even more alarming. Soldiers were mobilizing from the camp to drive out and meet the refugees, and it didn’t look like a welcoming party.

Sure enough, Rogers’s men stopped their trucks across the road in an obvious roadblock, taking cover behind them with weapons held ready to bring to bear on the approaching men, who stopped and stared in dismay and growing despair.

Lewis was too far away to hear what the soldiers told the refugees, but the end result had many of the men slumping in defeated exhaustion right there on the road, ignoring the shouts and threats trying to chivvy them back away from the camp while those refugees who still had some energy turned and shuffled back eastward.

It was hard not to feel profound sympathy for those men, even knowing that many of them were criminals and malcontents. He doubted more than a few had done enough to deserve such a fate, and none had been afforded due process or other consideration.

Incredibly, once the soldiers had turned the refugees away they piled into their trucks and drove back into camp. As if they seriously expected a bunch of starving, desperate men to turn around and walk off without causing any trouble, just because they asked them to. Either that or they didn’t care either way.

Rogers sure ran a tight ship.

Of course the ragged men did turn around and leave, even the ones slumped down on the road finally pulling themselves to their feet and shuffling off. But over the next half hour Lewis watched dozens of them sneak into camp. Lewis somehow doubted they planned to just go back to being docile residents after the way they’d been treated, either; Rogers had likely just turned most if not all of those returning into violent troublemakers, where before only a handful had been.

What was even more worrisome was the fact that it was only dozens, instead of the hundreds who’d been turned away. That meant there were now even more people out there unaccounted for, disenfranchised and starving, and each one was potentially a danger to Aspen Hill. To his friends and family.

And that was unacceptable.

Lewis left under the cover of darkness, using his night vision gear to easily avoid the camp guards and the few scattered campsites, one of them large enough to hold at least fifty men, as he sought out Trent’s group who’d been tailing the refugees. He wanted to avoid using his radio unless he had to, so he wouldn’t draw attention from the camp. Luckily it only took a bit of searching to find the Aspen Hill group making their way home, well off the road.

After briefly sharing reports they made for the road and, with Lewis in the lead guiding them through the darkness, started east at a jog. In spite of weariness and lack of ideal traveling conditions they all agreed that they wanted to get home that night if they could, rather than having to set up camp again.

Lewis was reasonably satisfied with his information gathering. His phone carried dozens of pictures and a few snippets of video and conversations relevant to what was going on. Enough to support his findings and possibly even strong enough to be presented as evidence; although most of the audio was hearsay, the video of the soldiers turning away the returning refugees was hard to dispute.

Assuming they managed to find someone willing and able to do something before the whole area collapsed into chaos.

Chapter Eleven

Downward Spiral

Ed Larson jumped off his cot as a large man wearing sergeant’s stripes, flanked by two enlisted soldiers holding rifles, stormed into the barrack tent and made a beeline for him.

“Is there some—” Ed started to ask.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” the sergeant snarled.

The tone combined with the aggressive approach and armed escort threw Ed off, and it took him several seconds to stammer out an answer. “Th-they’re out in camp.”

“Get them!” the big man roared. “You have five minutes.” Rather than storming off, he motioned to his soldiers to take up a position at the tent’s entrance and plopped down on a nearby cot glowering at Ed, clearly waiting for him to comply.

Ed retrieved his radio with a shaking hand. It was tuned to one of the civilian frequencies approved by the military, of which they had their pick since very few other people had working radios to communicate with aside from the military and those working for them, who also used their own frequencies. It was likely someone was listening in on all radio communication, but that didn’t matter since they only used them to check in on each other.

“Aspen Hill delegation,” he said, aware of how stilted and formal his voice sounded, “we’ve been called in to speak to—” he hesitated, taking his thumb off the transmit button as he glanced at the sergeant. “Colonel Grimes?”

“Right,” the man growled.

Ed pressed the button again. “—to Colonel Grimes. He wants to see us immediately.”

Lucas’s voice came over the radio loud and clear. “Copy that. Me and Carrie are on our way.” Moments later Scott and Ben confirmed they would be there soon as well.

Although they’d agreed to take shifts Ed was usually the one who found himself here in camp. He wasn’t sure what the others had got up to in the six days they’d been cooling their heels waiting for Grimes to call them in, but from the sounds of it they’d been reasonably productive in negotiating trades, making friends, and gathering news.

As for the situation in Aspen Hill, they’d heard some chatter over the radio yesterday that might’ve been about their town, but hadn’t been able to get in touch with Chauncey or anyone else from Aspen Hill to find out what was happening.

If this irate sergeant and the abrupt summons from Grimes was any indication, Ed wasn’t expecting to get any good news about home.

It took closer to ten minutes for everyone to get back to the barrack, and the sergeant was clearly irritated at that. He’d apparently meant his five minute deadline, unreasonable as it was. As soon as Lucas and Carrie showed up the noncom and his two enlisted escorts hurried them all to the headquarters building and inside. Once inside he rushed them through rooms full of curious people and through the waiting room directly into the colonel’s office, barely even pausing to announce their arrival.

Grimes was waiting for them, expression grim. “Gentlemen, ma’am,” he said, rising from his seat to stand behind his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Somehow the fact that he was inviting them to sit this time, when he’d had them stand during their first visit when he was more kindly disposed towards them, seemed like a bad sign. Ed nervously joined the others in taking seats. After a short, tense silence Lucas opened his mouth, at which point the colonel talked over him.

“It seems as if it’s not only soldiers attempting to carry out their duty that your town likes pointing guns at. They also enjoy menacing unarmed refugees.”

The silence took on a more blank, confused air. “Beg pardon, Colonel?” Scott finally said.

Grimes turned his glare on the man, who hunched slightly. “Yesterday,” the senior officer snapped. “A mob of thugs from Aspen Hill numbering in the hundreds, all heavily armed and geared for a fight, waylaid a refugee convoy on the road.”

Another bewildered silence. “That seems… unlikely,” Lucas said carefully.

“As in you think if it came from Major Rogers it’s a lie?” The colonel was visibly trying to control his anger. “I have reports from two different patrols as well, who intercepted scattered groups of refugees all attesting to being turned back from coming near Aspen Hill as if they were common criminals. An action your town does not have the authority to take.”

Ed frowned, from more than just surprise and dismay. Something was definitely going on, and obviously his town was involved. But a lot of facts were also being left off the table, either because Grimes wasn’t aware of them or for some other reason.

“If I could ask,” he said into the silence. “Would you say this is now justification for personally taking a closer look at the situation, or at least sending someone who will?”

It was his turn to take the brunt of the colonel’s glare. “The situation seems pretty clear to me. At best you people are paranoid nutjobs using excessive force in situations that don’t warrant it, and you seem to be engaged in suspicious activities as well. This mess with the refugees crosses too far over the line. My job is to keep the roads safe for travelers and allow free passage through all areas in this territory. Anyone getting in the way of that is going to have a problem with me.”

“I can assure you, Colonel, there’s a reasonable explanation for what happened,” Lucas said stiffly.

Grimes whirled on him. “Oh? Have you been in contact with your town and heard their side of it, then?”

Lucas hesitated. “Well no,” he admitted. “But this isn’t the way our people behave.”

The senior officer slammed his hands down on the table in disgust. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Mr. Halsson. We’ve got a serious situation that seems to be spiraling out of control, and your town is at the center of it. Now I’m going to give you enough fuel to get home, and I suggest you take it and go get your house in order. My people will be along soon to make sure you are.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as they all stared at him in helpless frustration. “With all due respect,” Ben finally said, “maybe you should take your own advice when it comes to Major Rogers.”

Grimes abruptly stood and loomed over his desk, expression darkening. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job. You better believe the next time I hear word of your town restricting the right of travel of US citizens, I’ll send a battalion in to level the place. Now get out.”

Last time Ed had been the one leading them out after a clear dismissal. This time he held his ground, although it wasn’t easy. “You say you’ve heard from Major Rogers, patrols in the area, and testimony from the refugees. Which means you’ve heard every side of the issue but Aspen Hill’s. Last time you told us you’d give us a fair hearing.”

To his credit Grimes at least waited until he finished. Then he thundered “Out!” and pointed a quivering finger at the door.

This time Ed wasted no time joining the others in complying. They didn’t exactly scurry, but they didn’t take their time leaving, either. Once out in the waiting room they hurried through the headquarters building and made a beeline for their mule. Ed was glad they were already carrying all their possessions with them and were ready to go.

True to his word Grimes provided them with fuel. A full tank and an extra five gallon can, too, which was enough to make the trip both ways. Under the circumstances that was pretty generous.

They didn’t leave the camp immediately, since there were a few trade deals to finalize, but within the hour they were driving towards the rising sun, troubled thoughts turned to home and exactly what the blazes was going on there.

* * *

“We’ve got more coming in, Trev. Six of them from the north.”

That was Derek Withers, the veteran who’d lost his entire right leg, speaking over the radio where he was taking a shift to give Chauncey a much needed break. Since the retired teacher with his own partially amputated leg could sympathize with the man, he’d taken him under his wing so to speak. So far it seemed to be working well, although Trev secretly suspected Chauncey hadn’t really minded camping out the radio most hours of the day.

Which was neither here nor there.

Trev sighed. He’d been about to sit down to dinner, but it looked like he’d be taking it with him. “They trying to sneak in?” he asked as he grabbed a few strips of jerky and started gathering his gear.

“Emphasis on trying, since Tod saw them coming from a ways off,” Derek replied. He didn’t sound amused though; they’d been through too much of this in the last four days since turning the refugees away.

“All right. Brandon?”

Brandon Shanks was one of the freed prisoners who’d been in Gutierrez’s squad during the fight against the blockheads, and the two had become good friends. At the retired soldier’s recommendation the man was leading one of the morning shift’s roving five-man patrols, which Trev had put together a couple days ago to turn back these small groups of intruders that tried to sneak into Aspen Hill or hang around hassling townspeople in the area. Going by the schedule the older man’s patrol was closest to where the interlopers were coming in.

“No go,” Brandon replied. “Raul’s got us responding to a sighting of a few guys setting up camp west of here, just inside our perimeter. On our way out there now.”

Trev felt a moment of worry, since Deb was part of Brandon’s patrol. At least their task didn’t sound like anything too dangerous, and at Gutierrez’s request Brandon had personally promised Trev he’d look out for her. She should be fine.

Should be. He sighed. “All right, Brandon, be careful. Derek, tell Tod I’ll bring out some people to turn his group back. Have him stay out of sight and report on their movement.”

“He’s on it,” the veteran replied after fifteen or so seconds. By that time Trev was out the door and jogging towards the town hall tent.

He hurriedly rounded up a handful of the defenders there, who’d been hanging out making themselves available in case of trouble. They were technically taking a break from the day’s work to eat dinner, but the way things had been going most of his people took their breaks at the tent in case they were called to an emergency.

Everyone there already had their gear ready, and it didn’t take more than a couple minutes to get them all moving north up the canyon at a jog.

In the last four days the situation with the displaced refugees had steadily worsened, and these attempts to sneak into town were only a part of it. Just as Trev and the town leaders had feared, many of the scattered groups turned to banditry within days, attacking travelers or isolated residents of local towns and camps. The attacks started off minor, but over time they grew bolder and more brutal, especially once the newly formed bandit groups realized the military wasn’t doing anything to stop them.

This was the latest of a dozen times someone or someones had tried to make their way into town, usually by stealth. Trev wasn’t sure why they thought they’d get away with it even if they had managed to slip past his sentries, which none had. Aspen Hill was a tight-knit community, and even though several hundred people lived there most were at least familiar with the faces of their neighbors. There was no chance strangers skulking around wouldn’t be immediately seen and challenged.

At which point a good portion of the town was armed, so the intruders wouldn’t have much choice but to give up and let themselves be arrested.

Usually the would-be infiltrators were simply escorted three miles out of town in a direction of their choice, to the perimeter Trev had set up, with a warning that further attempts to enter town would be met with harsher treatment. While most reluctantly put their backs to Aspen Hill, and thankfully none had turned violent, a few had tried to rush past the defenders and flee into town, hoping they wouldn’t be stopped.

They were wrong. The patrols assigned to turn them back had been issued pepper spray and batons and even a few stun guns to be used if needed, and they were. Trev supposed that wasn’t winning the town any friends among the displaced refugees, and in fact it seemed like the attacks were escalating over time. Although that was just as likely due to the scattered groups of men growing increasingly desperate because of cold and hunger.

Either way the military was keeping dead silent on the matter, and the people of Aspen Hill weren’t the only ones in the area getting more and more angry about that. Trev didn’t know if it was incompetence or malicious intent, but if Rogers or his superiors didn’t step in soon people were going to end up dead. If some hadn’t already without him knowing.

But none of them would be the townspeople under his protection, if Trev had anything to say about it.

His group traveled for roughly a half hour up the canyon, traversing the steep, treacherous terrain alongside the stream, before they caught sight of the intruders. When they did Trev groaned. “These guys again?”

It was a group that Trev had already turned back, one of the ones that’d tried to rush past into town instead of leaving. He would’ve thought the faceful of pepper spray he and his patrol had dished out a couple days ago would’ve kept them from coming back, but apparently they were too stubborn or desperate to get the hint.

Two were carrying crude spears, one just a stick with a sharpened end and the other with a small knife ludicrously tied to the end of a long haft. Another carried a hatchet, while the other three made do with thick sticks for clubs and stones large enough he wouldn’t want one chucked at his head.

In other words, enough to be a threat but not enough to be a real one, with his people all wearing body armor and carrying AK-47s. “Form up,” he said quietly, taking out his pepper spray. Weapons or not, he’d try nonlethal first.

His group fanned out as best they could on the awkward slope, clearing firing lines and pulling out their own pepper spray. The interlopers caught sight of them and their steps turned more wary, but they didn’t stop.

“Didn’t we already do this?” Trev called. The refugees kept coming. Trev judged they could go a couple dozen more feet before he’d consider them close enough to pose a danger if they charged, but also close enough to be shot with pepper spray. “Stop now,” he said more sharply.

They didn’t. “You’ve got food, we need it,” the closest one snapped, hefting his spear. “You think blinding us for a few minutes is going to stop us?”

Trev reluctantly put his pepper spray away and unslung his rifle, although he motioned for the rest of his group to keep their deterrents out as he raised his weapon to point at the man. “It had better. The alternative is less pleasant.”

“You don’t have the stones,” the refugee snapped. He broke into a charge, lifting his spear and throwing it as he came.

It would’ve hit Trev if he didn’t leap aside, and other members of his group cursed as rocks fell among them, a few connecting. The lead refugee had pulled out a knife and was moving low and fast to close on Trev so he could use it.

Then streams of spray flew out from the defenders to converge on the charging men. Most were on point, hitting faces or narrowly missing, and three went down coughing. The leader was one still coming, and Trev reluctantly aimed for his legs and fired off a few shots.

He missed every one. By the time he swapped up to aim for his assailant’s chest the man was nearly on top of him, and he also missed that hasty shot before being forced to brace to deflect the incoming knife with his weapon.

In the brief flurry that followed Trev was nearly tackled off his feet. If he hadn’t spent so long practicing grappling and boxing with Lewis last winter, and infrequently since then, he probably would’ve been. Instead he managed to sidestep and brace his feet, throw the man’s knife wide, and slam his helmeted forehead into his assailant’s face.

The interloper went down hard and stayed down, cursing, as Trev covered him with his rifle. He was also pretty ticked, but more at himself than at his attacker.

There was a reason that, as far as he knew, every military and law enforcement had a policy of aiming center mass at credible threats. Moving targets were hard enough to hit as it was, and a determined enemy could close on you fast and shrug off minor injuries. Then once they were close enough they could knock your gun aside or get around it, and then you lost the advantage of having it and were fighting for your life close quarters against whatever weapon the enemy had.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone he didn’t have to, but it was stupid to go any easier on this displaced refugee with a knife than he would’ve on a blockhead in the same situation. He could’ve wound up dead for his troubles.

A brief look around showed that a couple of his defenders had pinned the other two who hadn’t been hit with spray and were getting out zip ties to bind them, while the rest of his group cautiously approached the coughing, red-eyed displaced refugees farther back to disarm and take into custody.

Trev slung his rifle and rolled the man over onto his stomach, driving a knee into the small of his back to hold him down as he pulled out his own zip ties. “You seriously shouldn’t have come back.”

The leader cursed as his hands were yanked together to be bound. “What’re you going to do, spank us and send us off like naughty boys? You’re not going to kill us just for trying to get into your town, and if you put us in jail at least we can expect three square meals a day.”

That was unfortunately a good question. Trev wasn’t about to let people who violently attacked his defenders go free to do it again, maybe with more success next time. And now that the military was sticking their noses in Aspen Hill’s business the town’s policy for dealing with violent attackers would probably get them in even more trouble, assuming the town’s judges found this attack to be enough justification to execute the prisoners.

All he could do was bring them in and see what Matt and the others wanted to do. He didn’t envy his friend the decision.

What a mess.

Matt was waiting when they entered town with the six men. Trev had filled him in on the situation over the radio on the way back. The intruders hadn’t admitted where they were from, but Lewis had scouted out a camp several miles northwest of town with a hundred or so displaced refugees in it. They didn’t know much about the place, and so far none of the men there had done much roaming south in their direction, but when Trev mentioned the camp to his prisoners a few jerked in guilty recognition.

Not enough to confirm anything, but Trev guessed that was where these guys had come from.

“We’ll lock them in a spare cabin for now,” Matt said, motioning. “I’ve already secured one.”

Trev was only too happy to follow as his friend led the way. Aside from cursing from the prisoners they worked in silence to get them situated in the bare, dirt-floored structure. The door was sturdy and had a hasp and padlock, though, and with the men’s arms still bound and a few defenders watching them they shouldn’t be a problem.

At least short term. “What do we do with them?” Trev asked.

Matt gave him a crooked smile. “I guess we contact the military and have them come take them away.”

They all shared a good laugh at that. The military wasn’t doing anything, and this wasn’t about to be the incident that made them start.

Then his friend sobered up and sighed. “Still, I will have Chauncey radio the proper authorities to inform them about this. At least then if they ignore us we have some excuse for dealing with it ourselves.”

“Which will be how?” one of the defenders demanded. “If we warn them they’ll be shot on sight if they come back they won’t believe us… they’ve already come back once even after we pepper sprayed them. Sure, I have no problem actually shooting this trash, but a bunch of dead idiots isn’t going to help the town.”

Matt sighed again. “We’ll talk it over. Trev?”

Trev followed his friend into the town hall tent, where he chatted with Derek while Matt gathered up a few of the other leaders. Chauncey arrived not long after that and took over from the veteran, radioing in about the attack and asking what the town should do with the attackers.

By the time the town leaders had gathered the retired teacher still hadn’t heard any response back, to nobody’s surprise.

The brief but heated debate that followed went around in circles. Everyone agreed something needed to be done with the prisoners, everyone agreed that the military looming over them made simple solutions awkward, and nobody had any suggestions on what to do going forward. If they kept the men imprisoned for the time being they’d have to feed them, and nobody wanted to do that.

Finally Lewis gave the tactless but unfortunately probably best solution under the circumstances. “I guess we shove guns in their faces until they piss themselves, then toss them out with a warning that we won’t just threaten next time.”

Trev could imagine the military wouldn’t be thrilled about that if they heard, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself. Not to mention the idiots had come back after one painful warning. Still, there didn’t seem to be a better option.

At the very least it was a bit satisfying to haul the intruders out of the impromptu jail and line them up on their knees while his men formed up with weapons ready. A few really did wet themselves, and from the smell one might’ve lost control of his bowels when Trev ordered his men to raise weapons and take aim.

Then he waved the rifles down and stomped forward to lean over the leader, who didn’t look quite as intimidated as the others. “If you come within three miles of this place again,” he said in a voice just loud enough for all the prisoners to hear, “we’ll shoot you before you even know we’re there. Got it?”

The man hesitated, looking as if he was going to spit some defiance, then glanced around Trev at the defenders standing in a firing line behind him. “Got it,” he said reluctantly.

Trev hauled the man to his feet and started marching him north out of town, his defenders rounding up the others. It took a while to get them out to the perimeter, where they shoved them away with shouts to keep going and not come back, training guns on the men as they took off in a stumbling run for safety with their hands still bound behind their backs.

For caution’s sake Trev had some of his defenders follow the men, confirming that they had in fact come from the large camp to the northwest. The camp accepted the humiliated and shaken men in with some jeers, but from the looks of it weren’t planning anything immediate so the defenders came home.

No telling whether the fate of their friends had served as a deterrent for the rest of the displaced refugees up there. Trev had his doubts, but he could hope.

Chapter Twelve

Tipping Point

The next four days didn’t get any better. In fact they got much, much worse as Matt struggled to deal with a situation on the brink of spiraling completely out of control.

Displaced refugees kept coming at the town, even more insistently than before, and were more likely to become violent when turned back. Those who were armed, violently aggressive, and moved fast provided little option but to shoot them in self defense. And from bitter experience, not just Trev’s but others who’d been involved in fighting the raiders and blockheads, the defenders didn’t hold back.

At Matt’s order, with the agreement of his friend and the town leaders, going forward they shot to stop their enemy, which usually meant seriously or even fatally wounding them. After the fact the town provided what medical help they could while using as few of the town’s supplies as possible, but the displaced refugees who got violent usually didn’t fare well.

Even the unarmed or less aggressive intruders who refused to be turned back were dealt with cautiously, in case they were hiding weapons or suddenly decided to attack with their bare hands. They were brought down with nonlethal crowd control like pepper spray or one of the town’s few stun guns, bound with zip ties, and held along with the wounded attackers while calls were made to the refugee camp to come deal with them.

Calls that were never answered, of course.

The town was forced to repeat its initial song and dance of dragging prisoners into a firing line and warning them not to come back. As an extra measure Lewis snapped pictures of each of them with his camera, so the men would know there’d be no mistakes and they wouldn’t fool the town trying to come in again.

If there was one small mercy it was that none of those who were turned back with the warning that they’d be shot actually did make another attempt. Matt was sure it was only a matter of time, but from the looks of it the defenders shooting to defend themselves from attack were providing some deterrent there, showing that Aspen Hill really was willing to use lethal force if called to. And when the first people actually did call the town’s bluff and were shot on sight, hopefully that would be an even stronger deterrent to the others.

Matt didn’t completely blame the refugees. They were being used by Rogers and had been put in a terrible position, and although their individual choices were their own responsibility they were largely acting in desperation. That didn’t change the town’s duty to protect itself, though.

As another deterrent, decided on after Trev’s group was attacked, Matt put far more of the town’s defenders to patrolling along roads for miles around the town, keeping peace and doing their best to protect their nearby neighbors. Over the last few days they’d also taken in a few families who’d been forced to flee their isolated homes or small communities, at least until this situation could be resolved.

Two days ago they’d caught a couple bandits who’d committed serious enough crimes to warrant more than warnings, with the testimony of a traumatized pair of children a patrol had found along a road and brought back to town, whose family had been victims of the two men. The crimes were horrific enough that no one had any objections to the criminals being executed according to the town’s openly stated laws.

All of it done with full disclosure over the radio and endless requests for the military to step in or at least offer input on the situation. Requests which were, as always, ignored.

Matt was glad Chauncey was tirelessly on the radio pleading their cause. The retired teacher honestly laid out the situation to everyone who would listen, while confirming that Rogers was doing his best to spread disinformation about the town and what was happening.

Even now the camp coordinator was misrepresenting the situation, suppressing facts, and capitalizing on the natural sympathy people had for refugees. His falsehoods were so outrageous it was no wonder Grimes had effectively booted out the Aspen Hill delegation in a fit of anger.

The way Rogers laid things out made the people of Aspen Hill look like unspeakable monsters. He wove an impressive fiction of an agreement by Aspen Hill to take the refugees in, with food and supplies delivered to the town ahead of time. Then, when the refugees came expecting aid, Aspen Hill instead opened fire in the air above them and drove them scattering into the hills, then hunted individual groups too close to town and chased them still farther away, wounding, injuring, and even killing some.

Needless to say his fictitious refugees were mostly defenseless women and children. Rogers even spoke of going to the town to retrieve the refugees’ food and deliver justice, only to have guns turned on his brave soldiers, forcing him to withdraw. Nobody seemed to question his timeline even though Chauncey had been giving Aspen Hill’s side of things for nearly two weeks, and even more vehemently in the eight days since they’d been forced to turn back the thousand refugees Rogers sent their way.

It was a sickening distorting of the true events to paint Aspen Hill in the worst possible light and make the major a saintly martyr. Matt couldn’t even conceive of the type of mind that could concoct such a scenario, let alone actually believe it.

The things the man was accusing the town, and specifically Matt, of made his blood boil, but there was nothing to be done but keep dealing with events as they came and telling the truth to anyone who would listen. Still, it was worrisome that things weren’t calming down, and were instead getting worse by the day. And Rogers got to sit back in his camp and watch things fall apart without needing to directly go after the town again.

After dinner on the eighth day found Matt sitting at the radio desk with a handful of others, listening to Chauncey’s regular report of what he’d heard and who he’d spoken to.

“I suppose the good news is that it’s not all bad news,” the retired teacher said. “Word is that the nearby towns are rumbling in protest and asking awkward questions about what’s going on up here. They don’t like the idea that the problems with banditry we’re seeing here might spread closer to them, they don’t like the idea that the military isn’t saying or doing anything about the situation, and they really don’t like the idea that their rations might be taken away as punishment for displeasing Rogers or someone like him.”

“That’s good,” Trev said.

Lewis shook his head. “Good but not great. Remember, the military is centered around the refugee camps. They’re going to have an unconscious bias for the refugees, not just because they’re responsible for them but because those people vastly outnumber the independent residents living in the area. They might not care as much about what the surviving towns have to say.”

“There’s one other big piece of news,” Chauncey said. “I’m not sure it’ll directly help us with our refugee camp coordinator problem, but it’s indirectly related.”

Matt frowned. “What is it?”

The retired teacher looked to the side as if gathering his thoughts. “Well, even though the military is mostly controlling what goes over the radio, Rogers’s behavior is calling into question things like overreach of military power and lack of a civilian government. It’s mostly still an undercurrent at the moment, but people are genuinely worried about the possibility of a military dictatorship.”

“Possibility?” Lewis said. “All respect to Generals Lassiter and Erikson, but we’ve pretty much been in one of those since they came to the Rocky Mountains. Although there wasn’t much worry about that while we were fighting the blockheads.”

Chauncey hesitated. “There’s plenty I could say about how far the nation has strayed from its roots, and watching it all collapse after the Gulf burned certainly didn’t help. But the majority of US citizens still have a healthy disdain for tyranny, and now that the crisis has passed they want Caesar to set aside his dictatorial powers, so to speak.” He shrugged. “To get to the point, more and more people are talking about reinstituting the civilian government and holding some form of elections.”

“Well that’s good,” Matt said. People like Rogers would have trouble getting away with anything if they were accountable to someone besides fellow military officers who might be inclined to take their side.

“Good, but it doesn’t really help us. There’s no time to organize any of that before the first snows, and anyway people are focused too much on surviving the coming winter to spare the time. That’s something for next spring, assuming nuclear winter gives us a summer before the snows start falling again.”

Trev grimaced. “So it’s not actually good news.”

“I never said it was.” The retired teacher shrugged again. “If nothing else, the idea of future civilian authority and having to deal with politics might make our rogue major a bit more cautious about his public image. Assuming the military is actually willing to cede power to a civilian government.”

“Fantastic,” Matt muttered. “That’s the sort of optimistic thinking I like to hear.” He clapped the older man on the shoulder. “Anything else?”

Chauncey sighed. “It’s been fairly quiet around here, but Brandon’s patrol radioed in about a camp to the north that a handful of refugees are setting up for the night, close enough to town to warrant sending them packing. He’s heading in to do that now.”

Matt noticed Trev stiffen slightly. Deb was still on Brandon’s team, and he understood his friend’s worry. But so far they’d encountered quite a few people setting up camp within their territory, mostly out of ignorance, and only a few had caused real trouble when the defenders demanded they move. Besides, a few refugees didn’t seem like too great a danger.

“Tell him to be careful,” he said anyway.

“Will do,” the retired teacher replied, bending back over his radio.

Matt sighed. “In the meantime I need to have a conversation with some of our people who want to go out and hunt, even with all these bandits around causing problems. Why don’t you come with me and tell them why that’s a bad idea, Trev?” If nothing else it would take his friend’s mind off any worry for his kind-of girlfriend.

* * *

Deb missed Trev. No, not because she was emotionally dependent on him and had become a wreck without him. At least not like she had been.

But she liked being around him. He tended to look on the bright side of things while acknowledging life’s imperfections, but he didn’t let any of that keep him from sincerely caring. Or from finding humor in topics she would’ve found troubling otherwise, somehow managing to set her at ease and help her look on the bright side too.

Still, with all the tension and trouble around his presence would’ve been a comfort. It didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t at least say hi every once in a while, let him know she was still alive and doing okay. And since she was avoiding him it was awkward to hang out with his family, too, so that was more of her close friends she was isolated from. Even being with Linda wasn’t like it had been, although the girl wasn’t the easiest friend at the best of times.

Regardless of how people walked on eggshells around Deb, not to mention acting like her emotional baggage impacted her ability to think, she wasn’t stupid or a child. She knew Linda well enough to know that when the girl had come to warn her about Trev’s intervention, the truth might be slanted by Linda’s perspective. Deb could also guess at where the girl might’ve smudged the facts.

Yes, Trev’s family were nice people and they cared about her. They might be worried for Trev, but they wouldn’t leave Deb out for the wolves even if they thought it was the best thing for him. Which they didn’t. They just saw a problem and agreed it needed to be addressed. Which Deb was just fine with, since she wasn’t blind to the problem either.

In a way they really had helped her by suggesting she and Trev take a break. It had given her a chance to straighten out the parts of her thinking that’d been going bendy. And hopefully before too long she could try again and things would work better.

Although now wasn’t really the time to be thinking of all that.

Not that the four men huddled around the newly started campfire a few hundred yards away looked like too much of a threat. None of them were armed with anything more dangerous than a sturdy walking stick, and all looked dirty and hungry, bracing themselves for the night’s chill as the sun sank towards the horizon. They’d set up camp beside a convenient copse of tangled evergreens, which had given them easy access to plenty of deadwood for their fire.

Brandon led the way as the patrol cautiously approached, weapons ready. At the sight of them the refugees warily came to their feet, hands held out unthreateningly to the sides. That made Deb feel even more confident that this wasn’t going to turn violent.

“No need to arrest us,” one of the men called. He had an ugly fading bruise across one cheek, as if he’d been struck hard in the face within the last few days. That tickled Deb’s memory for some reason, although she wasn’t sure why. Or maybe it was just the open indication of past violence. Still, it put her slightly on edge as he continued. “We’re just camping the night.”

“Fair enough,” Brandon called back. “But you’re too close to Aspen Hill. I need you to pack up and head north, and not stop until you’re at least a mile away.”

The men grumbled amongst themselves. “We didn’t know,” their spokesman whined. “We don’t want any trouble, we’re just trying to get by.”

Brandon shrugged. “That’s fine. Just go ahead and move on, and stay at least three miles away from town in the future.”

“How do we even know how far the place is?” another refugee cut in. “We haven’t even seen this mythical town of yours.”

Deb tensed, hefting her weapon even though it seemed impossible that the men would try anything. The patrol was more than far enough away to respond in time if the refugees charged them. So why were they being so cantankerous?

“You don’t need to know. If you’re worried about getting too close you can give us a wide berth and make things easier on both of us.” Brandon was obviously losing patience.

“Yeah but we didn’t know we were getting close,” the spokesman said, still whining. “You’re going to make us pack up after we’ve already got a fire going and everything, with sundown only a few hours away?”

Brandon waved his gun to indicate for the refugees to get going. “Yes you didn’t know, you’ve already told us. That doesn’t change the fact that you can’t be here. You’re too close to Aspen Hill, you need to move now.”

“Why?” the refugee shouted, going from petulant to angry himself in a flash. “We’re just sitting here around a fire trying not to starve and freeze to death! You’re already keeping us out of your town and not giving us anything, why do you have to harass us way out here?”

The patrol leader sighed, anger giving way to weariness. “Look, you can just as easily camp a mile north of here, outside our patrol range. Then we wouldn’t have—”

Brandon’s words cut off in a grunt, followed by a terrible gurgling sound. Deb turned and saw in blank horror that he had an arrow buried in his neck and was slumping to his knees, rifle clattering to the ground as he lifted his hands towards the wound in stunned incomprehension.

Feeling a sort of numb disbelief, she turned away from the fire towards the nearby copse where the arrow had come from. To her shock she saw over two dozen men with crude weapons like baseball bats, golf clubs, and metal pipes with tape handles had burst from hiding places and were closing the distance towards her patrol, already more than halfway to them.

Screaming a warning to her three remaining companions, she lifted her AK-47 and snapped off a shot. A man went down clutching his stomach, adding his own screams to the confusion. Deb started to aim for a man carrying a baseball bat who’d nearly reached her, but he swung and managed to hit the end of her rifle, knocking it out of her hands.

Somehow she was able to duck away from the bat’s backswing as the man stumbled past, diving for her dropped weapon. Around her she heard a few brief spats of gunfire, quickly followed by thuds and screams as her patrol was overwhelmed and beaten to the ground. And the original four men at the fire had also joined the fray as soon as her and her companions’ backs were turned.

It had been a trap, and they’d literally walked right up to it.

Before Deb could reach her gun a solid kick to her side knocked her away. She curled up around the agonizing injury, thoughts of going for her weapon momentarily forgotten in a haze of pain as more kicks followed to her thighs, hips, butt, lower back, and finally a vicious one to her crotch from behind.

That last one made her involuntarily flip over onto her back still huddled in a ball, tearing a cry of pain from between her clenched teeth. She looked up dazedly to see the man with the bat looming over her. He’d been happy to kick and stomp on her with his boot, but now he hesitated in bringing the bat down on her head.

Not from any kindness or unwillingness to seriously hurt her, of course; he was leering down at her with the same expression the blockheads who’d taken her prisoner had worn. The look she’d seen far too often during those nightmarish first days in their hands, which she remembered only as a horrific blur she did her best to avoid thinking about.

He wanted her relatively unharmed for his own sickening reasons.

But his moment of hesitation was all she needed. The other bandits were still swarming around the rest of her patrol mates, swinging their brutal weapons long past the point of being necessary to the accompaniment of noises she didn’t want to think about. Another horrific event that would feature in her nightmares if she survived this.

And if she wanted to do that then this would be her one and only chance, since once they’d played out their aggression on the bodies of her friends they’d turn their attention on her for other malevolent desires.

Her attacker shifted the bat to one hand, reaching for her with the other. “Don’t struggle, and maybe you’ll—”

Deb drew her pistol from its concealed holster behind the waistband of her jeans, disguising the motion with the all too sincere cringing she was doing. Before the man even realized what was happening she shot him in the face point-blank.

The result wasn’t pretty, although she barely noticed since she’d already started moving, rolling away as he fell on top of her. She yanked her legs free of his dead weight and stumbled to her feet, eyes searching for the only enemy currently holding a ranged weapon: the man with the crossbow who’d shot Brandon. She fired at him until he went down, too.

Then she turned and bolted, her sprint fueled by wild terror and desperation at what awaited her if she was too slow. Guilt churned in her gut at leaving her patrol mates behind to the bandits, but she knew there was nothing she could do for them now. At least by the smallest mercy their deaths had been fairly quick.

Behind her she heard shouts and howls as the nearest bandits tore after her in close pursuit. She stumbled and nearly fell, and by sheer luck at that exact moment a thrown chunk of rock passed just over her head, missing her by inches. In an instant she regained her balance and started sprinting again, pushing for every ounce of speed.

Part of her wanted to turn and unload the rest of her magazine at her pursuers to slow them down, but the rational part of her brain clawing for control through her panic knew that would be counterproductive. Even if she took down half of them the rest would swarm her before she could get away again, and after the fight she’d put up they’d make her suffer even worse for it.

She desperately wanted to live, but she’d fight with everything she had to avoid going through that hell again. Never again.

All she could do was keep sprinting flat out, listening to the snarls and pants seemingly right in her ear from her closest pursuers, and hope she was faster than them. Her lungs burned, her throat was raw, her legs felt rubbery and she stumbled more and more often, but somehow the expected hands grasping at her pack or weight tackling her from behind never came.

If there was one thing going for her it was that the men chasing her were weak from hunger. They didn’t have the strength to keep up their pursuit for long, and she was able to outpace them. The noise from right behind faded until she was sure she had a lead of at least ten feet, and she risked a glance over her shoulder to see that the bandits had finally come to a panting halt.

The danger wasn’t over then, unfortunately, since some of the bandits had been smart enough to strip the weapons from her fellow defenders rather than chasing her on foot. She could hear the crack of gunfire from behind her, and she added a few zigs and zags as she kept staggering in the direction of Aspen Hill and safety. From training she knew a moving target was incredibly difficult to hit at any range, and she doubted any of those men had serious training with firearms. But at the same time her patrol had been carrying M16s and AK-47s and she could hear the bandits unloading entire magazines at her. She even heard the alarming whine of a few shots passing far too close.

But finally, practically on her hands and knees for the few final feet, she made it up and over a rise, and with it between her and the shots coming from behind she finally felt safe enough to slow for a moment.

Sobbing, both from sucking in desperate lungfuls of air as well as from grief for her friends and shock at what she’d just narrowly escaped, she yanked at the radio clipped to her belt until it came free, raising it with a hand shaking so hard she nearly smashed it into her teeth. “Trev, my team’s been attacked!”

* * *

Matt jumped slightly as Trev, who’d been walking along beside him, suddenly made a strangled noise and stumbled over to lean against the nearest house, face ashen as he talked quickly into his headset.

Whatever his friend was hearing had to be on the defender channel. Matt was currently on the town channel waiting for word from Gutierrez, who’d gone to round up the hunters who kept insisting on going out so he could have a word with them.

When he shifted channels all he heard on the defender line was a confused babble of panicked voices, Deb’s loudest and least coherent among them. Then Trev burst away from the wall he was leaning against and sprinted north out of town, awkwardly unslinging his rifle to hold it as he ran.

“What’s going on?” Matt yelled after him.

His friend didn’t even slow. “Radio!” he shouted over his shoulder, nearly tripping on a buried rock. Even that didn’t check his pace, and he was soon a hundred yards away and still sprinting flat out.

Matt toggled his mic, speaking firmly to cut through the chatter. “Matt here. What’s going on?”

The radio crackled with the static of an incoming transmission, but all Matt heard was heavy breathing. Then Deb sucked in a noisy breath and he realized the brown-haired woman was fighting intense emotions as well as being seriously winded. “My patrol… attacked two… northwest of town,” she panted, “just past… one rise close… valley’s western ridge. I got away but-but…” she trailed off into sobs, finally forcing out a few final words. “I’m the only one. I need help.”

Considering Trev was currently running off on his own, that left Matt to organize an actual team to counter this threat. Not that he blamed his friend. He swapped over to the town channel. “Gutierrez?” No answer: the man had probably already swapped. Matt switched back to the defender channel. “Gutierrez?”

“Gathering a team to kill the SOBs who murdered Brandon and the others,” the former soldier replied tersely. “As a start. Find who you can and meet us at the edge of town.”

Matt turned and ran for the shelter group’s cabins. He needed his body armor and other gear, and he’d pick up Terry to check on Deb and April to offer a comforting female presence, as well as Lewis, Jane, and whoever else was handy there.

Even focusing on his immediate goals wasn’t enough to take his mind from the ramifications. Deb was the only one who’d got away, which meant the rest of her patrol had been killed. Four good men, friends, ambushed and murdered while trying to protect their home.

He could understand why Gutierrez wanted to murder the men who’d killed his friend, and anyone else who got in his way. But as Mayor Matt couldn’t afford to lose control of the situation and allow the town to cross the line in retaliation for this atrocity.

Although those who’d killed his people would see justice.

* * *

Trev didn’t think he’d ever sprinted a mile in better time, and mostly uphill to boot.

It wasn’t rational, since the entire time common sense had been yammering away at the back of his mind that he’d still have another mile to go after he collapsed from exhaustion. That or if he was in good enough shape to make it the entire way he’d be too exhausted to help Deb at the end of it. But he couldn’t help himself.

He hadn’t wanted to take a break from seeing Deb because he’d miss her, but just as much he’d worried something like this would happen. Her work volunteering to defend the town wasn’t exactly safe, as today’s events proved, and one of the main comforts of having her in that role before all this was that he was usually with her.

Only now he wasn’t, when she needed him most.

His panicked mind had failed to account for the fact that Deb would also be running towards him, so he was just catching his second wind when he crested the western ridge of the valley and saw her not far away. At the sight of him she collapsed in relief, curling up on the ground sobbing.

As Trev closed the distance to her he searched the area for potential threats. None were visible, but as soon as he reached Deb he still crouched on her northern side to shield her with his body. He really wanted to throw his arms around her, as much at his own relief at seeing she was okay as to reassure her. And from the way she rolled towards him and clung to his shins she probably wanted that reassurance too. Then again, this sort of traumatic event might trigger previous trauma and touching her would be the worst thing he could do.

“I’m here,” he said as gently as he could through his panting.

“Thank God,” she mumbled. “The others, Trev. I-I couldn’t…” her words dissolved into gasping sobs again.

He shifted to glance around quickly again. They were too exposed here. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you to a spot with more cover. Is that okay?” She nodded emphatically, so he slung his rifle and carefully scooped her into his arms. Her pack made that awkward, and she nearly whacked him in the face with the MP-443 Grach she still held in a white-knuckled grip when he looped her arm around his neck. But finally he got a stable hold on her, and as she buried her face in his chest he pushed to his feet on rubbery legs and looked around.

There was a dip in the ground that ran through some sage bushes nearby. He quickly made his way over to it and deposited her in the most covered spot he could find. Then he crouched over her and unslung his rifle, using the scope to pan the area as he toggled his headset mic. “I’ve got Deb safe for now.”

Matt’s voice came back strong with hints of exertion from running. “Good. We’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

Trev looked down at Deb. She’d barely responded to his voice when he’d been talking over the radio. Shock? “Are you hurt?” he asked her in a low, soothing tone.

She nodded. “He kicked me around a little before I managed to get away. Nothing serious, I think.”

He felt a flash of rage at that: whoever did that to the woman he cared about would certainly get what was coming to him. But for now he needed to worry about her. Getting her talking might help shake her out of her shock. “How about you holster that?”

Deb blinked and uncurled slightly, looking at the pistol still clutched in her hand. She managed a weak smile as she fumbled to return it to its concealed holster. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to swing it around like a madwoman this time.”

She was obviously talking about just after he’d rescued her from the blockheads, when she’d come within an inch of shooting Fred Vernon as vengeance for him abandoning Newtown and indirectly causing her situation. Trev relaxed slightly, deciding that if she could manage humor she was probably not in too bad shape.

“If you’re feeling up to it you can tell me what happened,” he said. When she flinched slightly he hastily added. “No need to go into details.”

Nodding, Deb haltingly related approaching the camp, the argument Brandon had with the four men there which distracted the patrol from the bandits charging them from the copse, and how by the time they realized the danger it was too late. She skimmed over her own escape, which he didn’t blame her for.

“The man you talked to at the fire was bruised?” Trev asked partway through.

The brown-haired woman started to nod, then froze as realization dawned in her eyes. “The refugee you headbutted!” Her face crumpled in guilt and anguish. “So he was shoot on sight. I thought the bruise was important but I couldn’t remember why. If I’d just remembered I could’ve warned the others. They’d still be alive. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault but the men who did this,” Trev said firmly. “Although it can be a good lesson about paying attention to important details. Keep going.”

By the time she finished her account Matt, Dr. Langstrom, Terry, April, Lewis, Jane, Gutierrez, Rick, Lucas, and more than a dozen others had arrived. At Deb’s direction Gutierrez led most to the rise overlooking the ambush spot so they could investigate the scene, along with Langstrom to check on the other members of the patrol and see if there was anything he could do for them. Although nobody had much hope there.

Meanwhile Matt, Terry, April, Lewis, Jane, and Lucas stayed behind to check on Deb. At least until April insisted they should give her and her husband some space and not crowd the poor woman.

Trev reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled aside to briefly repeat Deb’s account of the situation. By the end of it his friends were seething as much as he was. “I’d like to take Deb home and make sure she’s okay,” he finished. “Can you handle things here?”

Matt nodded. “We’ve got it,” he said with a gesture to the others. Lewis and Lucas both gave Trev a reassuring squeeze on the arm, then the group followed Matt towards the rise and what lay beyond.

Not long after that April motioned to him, and Trev hesitantly made his way over. “How is she?”

Terry ran a hand through his reddish-blond hair. “She’s going to have some wicked bruises, and moving around might be painful for a few days. Nothing rest and regular careful stretching can’t fix.” The doctor stood and nodded to his wife. “We should probably go help Garret check on the rest of the patrol, although from the sound of things there won’t be any good news there.”

Trev didn’t envy his friend that task. “Check with the others that it’s safe before going over the rise, just to be careful. We don’t want to lose half the town’s medical staff.”

“Will do.” Terry crouched to say a few final quiet words to Deb, and April gave the brown-haired woman a hug. Then the two hurried off towards the ambush site.

After a brief pause watching them go Trev tentatively sat down beside Deb. To his relief rather than having a problem with it she reached out and took his hand, holding it tight. He was happy to share that contact. “You have no idea how scared I was for you,” he said quietly.

She gave him a wan smile. “I could see. Did you sprint the entire way here?”

“Pretty much.” They sat for about a minute, decompressing from what had just happened. Then, wondering if he was making a mistake and half sure he’d picked a bad time for it, Trev took a breath and plunged in. “I’m sick of not being able to see you. I feel like I failed you today. If you’re sick of being apart too then I’d say it’s been long enough, right?”

Deb made a face. “Way past being sick of it. I think I’ve sorted out my issues enough to risk hanging out with my favorite person.” Her eyes flicked to the north. “Of course then all this happened. I promise I’ll try not to let it make me cuckoo, but…” She sighed. “At least I was able to defend myself and get away this time.”

Trev squeezed her hand gently. “Let’s get you back to town. You need to get some rest in a quiet, safe place, and I’ll be nearby in case you need me.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I thought you weren’t supposed to enable my dependencies.”

Trev snorted. “Screw that. After what just happened I need to be close to you to reassure myself you’re okay.”

“But my patrol, the men who did this,” she protested feebly. “You need to lead the defenders.”

“I already talked to Matt. He doesn’t mind if I call off this time for personal reasons. I want those who hurt you to get what’s coming to them, but you’re my first priority.”

“Okay.” She hesitated, then continued in a small voice. “If we’re starting our relationship again we’ll still need to take it slow when it comes to, um, intimacy.”

Of course. Her problems hadn’t just gone away after a few weeks apart, and what’d happened today probably wouldn’t make things any easier. The last thing he wanted was for their relationship to be marred by trauma from her past because he’d been too impatient.

“We’ll take it as slow as you need,” he assured her.

Deb gave him a weak but sincere smile. “Then can I finally start calling you my boyfriend?”

He laughed quietly. “I guess it’s past time for that huh, girlfriend?”

She made another face. “Ugh, you sound like a teenage bestie. You don’t say it to your actual girlfriend, she already knows.” She squeezed his hand back. “Although I wouldn’t mind being introduced that way.

Right. Trev was just glad he’d managed to get her mind off what she’d just gone through. “If you’re okay to walk we can leave any time. I’m sure you’re ready to crash for the night.”

“You have no idea.” She pushed to her feet, legs still wobbly. She’d taken off her backpack for Terry’s examination, and as she stooped to pick it up Trev held out his hand in a silent offer to carry it. She handed it over without even token protest, obviously more exhausted and shaken than she let on.

“Your room is finished, right?” she asked as they started off.

Trev blinked. The only reason she’d be asking that was… well obviously she didn’t mean it like that, but even if she was just looking for a safe, quiet place to spend the night it was still unexpected. “Yeah. It’s got a few last finishing touches to go, but I’ve already moved in so it has a bed, and I redirected the stovepipe to run through it for heating. It’ll probably be more comfortable and quiet than a house full of other women and kids.”

Deb nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind me crashing there. I can grab one of your spare cots or something, and I’d rest a lot easier there without the noise. Although—” she cut off, blushing slightly. “Although that’s not the only reason I’d rest easier there.”

Well if that didn’t boost a guy’s confidence, knowing he made his girlfriend feel safe. “Sure,” he said. “But you should take my bed if you want. I can set up a cot in the main room near the door in case you need me.”

Trev really hoped she’d agree, since he wouldn’t feel quite right making her sleep on a cot. One of the projects his dad, mom, Linda, and Jim had been involved with over the last few weeks was making proper bed frames and sewing canvas and other cloth together for straw tick mattresses for everyone in the family. The beds were crinkly and often scratchy when some grass poked through, but they were also more roomy and way more comfortable than the simple cots.

“I wouldn’t want you to kick you out of your bed,” she protested. Then she hesitated. “Although I’ll admit I could use a good night’s sleep. It would help if you’d bring a cot and sleep in the room, though, so I know you’re there.”

Trev grinned. “Sure. After crowding in with my family for so long it’s been a bit lonely without a roommate. And you can trust me to be a perfect gentleman.”

Deb gave him a long, serious look. “I know I can trust you,” she said quietly. “And it means more than you know.”

He couldn’t think of a response to that other than to nod resolutely. He’d be there for her so she could get the rest she needed, and anything else to help her get over this newest trauma.

And if his parents had an issue with them spending time together again he’d tell them he and Deb were now officially dating, and if they had something against him hanging out with his girlfriend they could pound sand.

He’d say it more politely than that, of course.

Chapter Thirteen

Justice

These monsters.

Matt had fought Razor’s gang, he’d fought Turner’s raiders, and he’d fought the blockheads. He’d watched Williams and his men hung up to die painfully. He’d seen plenty of violence, and more death than he ever wanted.

But most of that had been with guns. Bullet wounds could be ugly, especially if they hit in certain places, but that ugliness was usually hidden before it was time for the bodies to be viewed. The closest he’d seen to this level of brutality was a man getting beat long past the point of death in Midvale, when he and Trev went to find April and her family. Although that had been in poor light which was a small blessing.

There’d be no hiding this from grieving loved ones. Brandon’s patrol hadn’t been killed by firearms but by blunt objects and blades, their murderers rushing them en masse and falling on the group with shocking brutality. And there were even hints they might have kept going after their victims were dead. Not even the goriest movie Matt had ever seen could prepare him for the horrific sight.

He’d seen plenty of fighting, plenty of death. He turned away and puked his guts out after only half a minute of taking in the scene in front of him.

He wasn’t the only one. None of those with him looked in any better shape, and even those who weren’t vomiting were pale from grief and disgust. This wasn’t the sort of sight you could get used to, or for that matter should. Langstrom and Terry, who’d both worked with their share of serious injuries, were visibly shaking as they checked the bodies.

“Looks like they gave as good as they got, at least,” Jane said. Her face was pale, but she didn’t look as bothered as the others. Matt had always admired her ability to detach herself from a situation until she had time to process it.

It may not’ve been the best time to make that observation, with the doctors still looking over the bodies and everyone silently grieving. She wasn’t wrong, though. When they fled the bandits left five of their companions behind where they fell, and spots of blood indicated at least one more had been wounded but made it away.

Once Matt finally got his stomach under control he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand and stumbled over to where Lewis and the others waited. “According to Deb and Trev one of the men who ambushed her was the same guy who attacked Trev four days ago. Our defenders followed that group back to the camp northwest of here. I think it’s reasonable to assume this was them?”

“Some of them, at least,” Lewis agreed. “It may be hasty to blame the whole camp.”

That seemed like just the sort of advice Gutierrez could use right now. Speaking of which… Matt toggled his radio. “Raul, what’ve you got?”

Gutierrez and half a dozen defenders had followed the bandits’ trail, going slow and cautious in case of further ambush. “We’re still tracking them, but I’m willing to bet money it’s that camp a few miles northwest of here,” the former soldier replied, tone oddly flat. “The trail leads straight back to it.”

That confirmed their suspicions, although honestly if dozens of men had attacked Brandon’s patrol there weren’t really all that many other options, especially in that direction. Most of the displaced refugees sent by Rogers had split into smaller groups or moved out of the area, searching for some refugee camp or community that would take them in. The largest group by far was in that camp.

From observing the hundred or so men in there they didn’t seem to be doing much in the way of providing for themselves, and there’d been more than a few suggestions that men from there were attacking and robbing people farther north of them, not just south towards Aspen Hill.

“All right, so we think we know who they are,” he replied over the radio and to the people around him both. “Now the question is: Are they insane? They’ve got what, a crossbow, some clubs and knives, and a few guns they looted from the patrol?”

“As far as we know,” Lucas agreed quietly.

Matt grit his teeth in frustration. “And they thought they could get away with this. Didn’t they get the message when we lined up hundreds of armed townspeople as a warning not to screw with us? Or when we sent their guys who tried to sneak into town slinking back with their tails between their legs?”

Lewis shook his head. “Maybe they don’t think we’ll be able to track them. Maybe they think our shows of force was a bluff, so they’re trying to lure us into a fight because they think they can take us and want to steal more of our stuff. Maybe they’re desperate and plan to flee now that they’ve pissed us off. Maybe they think a town will be bogged down by procedure and bureaucracy and won’t come after them in force. Or maybe, like I said earlier, this was just a portion of the camp acting without the knowledge or approval of the others.”

“Maybe some or all of the above.” Matt straightened, hand going to the 1911 at his hip. “Let’s get our people together to go out there and get to the bottom of this,” he said grimly. Then he reluctantly turned back to the murdered patrol. “But first let’s help Terry and Dr. Langstrom get these poor people prepared for burial, and call some people to help him take them back to town.”

The others nodded, equally grim. Matt called over the radio for someone from town to bring sheets to wrap the bodies in. Since Brandon had been killed almost immediately at the start of the fighting his body had largely been left alone, and might be made presentable for viewing with some work. But now that Robert was making caskets for the dead the funeral would certainly be closed casket for the other three.

It didn’t take long to do what they could to help, which wasn’t much. Matt left his sister and brother-in-law behind with the surgeon and a couple defenders while he took everyone else at a quick trot following after Gutierrez.

On the way Rick removed his helmet and held it out to Matt. “Here. I noticed you only brought a vest.”

Matt hesitated accepting it. “Look, I’m pissed off too, but we’re going out there to talk first and foremost. We need to figure out what happened before we just start shooting up the camp, and wearing a helmet doesn’t exactly scream peaceful negotiation.”

His friend shrugged. “I’m more worried about them shooting up my Mayor. Just put it on.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. Matt reluctantly put on the helmet as they jogged.

They were almost to the camp before they caught up with Gutierrez. The former soldier didn’t let them stay caught up, either; he ran ahead with his people to check for scouts around the camp and sweep its perimeter for potential threats. Since the man was in charge in Trev’s absence Matt didn’t protest. Instead he led the others behind a low hill overlooking the sprawl of tents to wait for the all-clear signal. Once Gutierrez gave it Matt led the way shimmying up to the top, peeking down at the camp a hundred yards away from behind the cover of a small stand of scrub oak.

The size and number of crude shelters confirmed about a hundred people. There weren’t many tents, and the spare cloth and other material the displaced refugees been able to find had been hung in sloped canopies around the fires to catch the warmth. There were a couple deer slung over those fires roasting, suggesting the men had more guns or bows and crossbows. There was no way the bandits who’d taken out the patrol could’ve returned in time to bring down game using the stolen rifles of their victims.

Either way it wouldn’t be enough meat to go around. The men he saw were as emaciated and ragged as their tents, obviously missing more than a few meals, and a couple deer weren’t going to help that. Of course, after butchering four Aspen Hill townspeople this scum of humanity had more to worry about than where their next meal was coming from.

“Cover me,” he said, directing the words both to Gutierrez over the radio and to the defenders with him. Then with one last check of his gear he rose and started down the far side of the hill.

To their credit the sentries the displaced refugees had set around their camp immediately spotted him and the others and scrambled to defend themselves, producing weapons and taking cover behind tents and anything else in camp that would offer at least some concealment.

Matt didn’t see any sign of the weapons or other gear from the patrol, which as best he knew was five rifles, four pistols, four sets of body armor, four packs, and whatever else Brandon and the others had been carrying on them. It was a surprise the bandits left their victims the clothes on their backs. The fact that none of the men below were showing any of that wasn’t proof of innocence, since Gutierrez had followed the bandits directly here.

He didn’t recognize any of the men he saw as those who’d tried to sneak into Aspen Hill, either, and especially there was no sign of any man with a bruise on his face. No surprise there, since even if these bandits were belligerent they weren’t going to flaunt their guilty friends in front of representatives of a group that significantly outnumbered and outgunned them. The displaced refugees probably still hoped they’d be able to plead innocence and send them packing.

Once Matt was a cautious distance from the camp he slowed to a stop, well aware that this was easy range for a rifle. There wasn’t much they could do about that but keep an eye out for anyone about to shoot him so he could duck and run to safety. Still, standing in the open like this made the hairs on his neck prickle and his muscles tense.

On the closest edge of the camp several men had gathered just outside the nearest tent. One, the leader or at least spokesman of the displaced refugees, raised his voice to address Matt. His tone was nearly beyond unfriendly to the point of being threatening. “What do you want?”

Matt took a deep breath. What he wanted was to raise his M16 and fire a few bursts into that group, then start picking out targets inside the camp. Hiding behind tents wouldn’t do jack to protect them; the men who’d attacked the patrol had lost more men than their victims, and they’d caught Brandon’s people by surprise and got in close fast.

Here, even with their stolen guns and what little else they had, the displaced refugees probably couldn’t even win against Matt and the seventeen people with him. It would be a one-sided massacre.

But there were right ways and wrong ways to do things. “We know four of our people were killed by men from your camp!” he shouted back, doing his best to make his voice iron. “We’re willing to give you one chance to prove the entire camp wasn’t complicit in the attack.”

“You don’t know anything!” another ruffian called, voice thick with contempt.

“Give up the murderers responsible for killing our people,” Matt continued, ignoring him, “and give your word you’ll keep the peace from now on, or face justice yourselves. If you don’t do both of these things, right now, we’ll hold you all guilty for the loss of our people and respond in kind.”

Matt wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. He was abruptly falling backwards, a pain in his chest like he’d been hit there with a hammer. He heard the distant crackcrackcrack of a three round burst from an M16 as he collapsed towards the ground, time seeming to slow down around him.

Then arms caught him beneath the shoulders, dragging him backwards up the hill and over the ridge. He looked up to see Rick, head tucked down protectively behind one shoulder as he watched his step behind him, moving as quickly as he could with Matt’s weight. He had a vague thought that in their current situation his friend should’ve kept his helmet since he needed it more.

Around them he heard the sound of more gunshots as the Aspen Hill group returned fire while also withdrawing to safety, with Gutierrez and his scouts covering them. From the way his friends winced and ducked, accompanied by the muted sound of gunfire from the camp, it was obvious the displaced refugees turned bandits were attacking them.

Matt was having trouble breathing, his flak jacket restrictive and the pain in his chest unbelievable. That body armor had just saved his life, and he was glad he’d taken the time to put it on.

“What happened?” he gasped as Rick set him down partway downhill from the ridge, safe from view of the camp on the other side.

“Snipers popped up from behind a tent,” his friend said grimly. “They went for you first, and at least one of them has decent aim.”

“They’re not pursuing!” Lewis called, ducking down beside the two of them with the rest of the group. Nobody seemed hurt, to Matt’s immense relief. Lewis felt beneath Matt’s body armor, checking to see if any bullets had penetrated its protection as he continued. “But we should probably get out of here before they decide to. Can you walk, Matt?”

Matt rubbed at the sharp pain in his chest, struggling to regain his breath. Those fools thought that because Aspen Hill was a peaceful, civilized town, that made them weak. They’d already proven they had no respect for life.

“I can,” he said through gritted teeth. He lifted his hands for help getting up, but one shoulder became a blaze of agony at the movement. Lewis saw and left it to Rick to grab Matt’s other hand and help him up one-handed, as he supported his side well away from where he’d been shot.

“Should I keep returning fire?” Gutierrez’s voice crackled through his headset.

Matt freed his good hand long enough to toggle his mic. “Negative. Rejoin us as we withdraw.”

The former soldier sounded pissed, and for good reason. “The three of us have good cover. We could probably take out half the camp while they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. We’ve already taken out four of the guys with guns, although their buddies were quick to pick up the weapons and shoot back.”

“Rejoin us,” Matt repeated firmly. “Let’s keep our heads.”

There was a long pause. “Copy that,” Gutierrez finally said.

The former soldier and the two defenders with him met them half a mile south of camp. Matt had paused to drop onto a log, wincing as Lewis and Lucas pulled off his vest and checked him over more thoroughly. There was a minor puncture wound where the bullet had pushed the vest material into his skin, and an ugly bruise was already spreading over his chest. But it wasn’t serious, and Matt was sure he could make it back to Aspen Hill without too much effort so Terry could look him over.

Gutierrez crouched down beside him. The man was breathing hard, face tight with pent up rage. Matt realized he hadn’t seen his friend since Gutierrez had seen the bodies of his close friend Brandon and the other members of the patrol. It was obvious the former soldier was taking it hard, and the camp’s attack on Matt and the others certainly hadn’t improved his mental state.

“I’ll live,” Matt said, trying to smile. “Thanks for covering me.”

His friend didn’t seem to hear him. “I volunteer to lead an attack on the camp,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Tonight.”

“I’ve got reservations about being hasty here,” Lewis said.

“They murdered four people and shot at our Mayor!” Gutierrez snapped. “They shot at you! At your dad! We need to bring them to justice.”

Lewis had to be as angry as the rest of them, but he kept his head. “How? Even if they deserve it, which I’m not necessarily arguing they don’t, if we massacre the entire camp Rogers will label it an atrocity. He’ll use it as an excuse to call in the military to occupy the town and toss us all in chains. And that’s if we aren’t just lined up and shot.”

Lucas nodded. “Chauncey will have sent word of the attack on the patrol over the radio by now. I think we need to give the military at least a little time to respond to this before we act, just so we’re not accused of jumping the gun.”

“Give me some credit,” the former soldier said. “We’ve got enough people and weapons to arrest the whole camp and take down anyone who resists.”

“At night, like you suggested?” Lewis shot back. “We don’t have time to do anything before sundown, and there’s no way you’re making mass arrests in the dark.”

Gutierrez hesitated. “Okay, I might’ve been thinking more of going in guns blazing,” he admitted. “But I can manage a more restrained approach too.” He turned to Matt. “However we do it, we should do it soon. They’ve already proven they’ll murder innocents without a second thought. If we wait they might take other lives we could’ve saved. Maybe Aspen Hill lives.”

“Rogers will accuse us of taking the law into our own hands no matter how we do it,” Lewis warned. “He’ll probably get on our case just for the shootout we just had.”

For a moment Matt hesitated, looking around the group. He agreed with both sides of the argument. Their friends had been brutally murdered, they’d just been shot at, and their Mayor had almost been killed while extending the olive branch.

But again, there was a right way and a wrong way to do things.

“Middle ground,” he said. “I’ll return home with Lucas and we’ll gather enough defenders to surround the camp and force them to surrender. We’ll plan for the attack tomorrow morning, rest and prepare and try to get back here well before dawn so we can go then. Raul, post everyone else here as teams of sentries around the camp for the night to keep anyone from leaving until we get back. You’re right, we can’t risk letting them go out and attack more innocents.”

“Works for me,” Lucas said. “If we can’t get a response from the military overnight they have no one to blame but themselves for ignoring us.”

Gutierrez seemed satisfied with the decision, too. “We can probably contain them, as long as they don’t try leaving all at once. If you bring back a hundred or so defenders it should be enough to intimidate them into giving up.”

“All right then.” Matt nodded to Lucas. “Give me a hand up.”

While the former soldier gathered everyone around to plan how they’d watch the camp, Matt started back for home with Lucas close by ready to support him in case he needed it. Even with time to organize the defenders and rest up a bit before dawn, he had a feeling it was going to be a sleepless night for him and good chunk of his people.

And Sam was going to kill him when she found out he’d been shot.

* * *

They’d killed Brandon. They’d killed him. In cold blood, in a cowardly ambush, and mutilated his corpse. Him, and Greg, and Frank, and Olly, and they’d tried to take Deb alive to do unspeakable things to her. Raul couldn’t just forget that, because he’d set up that patrol himself and asked each person in it to go out there. He’d promised Trev that Deb would be safe, had leaned on Brandon to make sure his friend would look out for her.

And they’d killed him. In cold blood. Him and the others. And they’d tried to take Deb.

Raul ignored the cold. The damp of thick dew gathering on everything, including him, as the night progressed. The growing pressure in his bowels. Hunger. Thirst. Weariness. His eyes barely blinked as he watched the camp below, where almost a hundred of the bandits slept.

His friends in Aspen Hill understood desperation. No one could live in the world the way it was now without feeling that crushing emotion as a constant companion. They’d watched friends and loved ones die. They’d endured sickness, starvation, cold, and the terror of faceless men who wanted to kill them and take everything they had.

But there was a difference between understanding desperation, and understanding just how deep desperation could go. Even when things were at their worst, few of his friends had ever faced their troubles alone. Not only alone, but with the knowledge that there was no one out there who cared about them, who depended on them, who hoped and prayed for their safety and a swift return to loving arms.

Raul understood. He’d watched as the only thing he’d had left, his duty to his country, had been stripped from him by a constant string of choices with no-win outcomes forced on him by Riley Ferris. His discipline as a soldier, neat grooming, well tended gear, straight back, clear conscience, had all been eroded away. He’d seen it happen, trapped, too cowardly to even protest, as his FETF relief squad had gradually devolved into bandits and raiders, preying on the very people they’d sworn to protect.

Aspen Hill hadn’t been an escape from his desperation. He’d stolen from them, too, when Ferris first occupied the town. He’d failed to protect them, abandoned them to Razor’s gang. Sam and Alice had nearly been raped because of him, something he didn’t think Matt and Rick should ever forgive him for.

So when he later left the raiders and surrendered to Aspen Hill, he’d almost hoped they’d execute him for his crimes. He deserved it. And when he saw how even now they hesitated to fully accept him into their community, to bring him in as they’d brought in refugees, crippled veterans, and mentally scarred former prisoners of the blockheads, he knew he deserved that too.

He didn’t blame them. They trusted him, but even if they couldn’t understand true desperation they knew that he did. They realized he could help them, and by helping them he redeemed himself in some small part for his crimes.

Those men down in that camp, they understood true desperation too. No possessions, no useful skills, no impulse control. The refugee camp, bad as it was, had been their last chance. When Rogers kicked them out and the place they’d hoped to resettle had turned them away, that was it. No family, no home, no country, no loyalty. Everyone viewed them as criminals and troublemakers, and they had nowhere to go and no way to survive.

Raul could see why they’d chosen to turn to banditry. But whatever their reason, their actions were still their own. They’d been pushed into this situation by circumstance, as well as the pettiness of one man, but there’d still been one choice for them. A choice Raul had failed to make as well: to live honestly as best they could, even if they failed and it meant dying with clear consciences.

He’d been given a second chance, but he’d never gone as far as Ferris’s other raiders. He’d never gone beyond the point where he could forgive himself. He believed in second chances, because to believe otherwise would be selfish and hypocritical, but sometimes there were no second chances to be had.

These men had killed Brandon and the others. They’d tried to take Deb. That deprived them of a right to a second chance in Raul’s eyes. They’d crossed a line, and there was no justice system to force them back across.

It had been satisfying to shoot the ones who’d shot at Matt and the others. Since they’d been using the patrol’s weapons they were almost certainly some of the ones who’d killed them, and justice had been as swift as Raul could make it. But those that remained, thinking they had safety in numbers even though they only had a handful of firearms, had sealed their fate. He almost regretted that nobody had tried to leave and given him an opportunity to go after them.

Let them howl like animals in their ramshackle camp across the way, tearing into deer roasted whole over poorly maintained fires within a poorly guarded perimeter as they celebrated murder and whatever other crimes they’d committed. It would be easier to put down any who didn’t come willingly.

Raul understood. There was a reason Mary hummed nervously whenever he mustered the courage to talk to her. There was a reason his friends kept their distance, even as they did everything they could for him. They saw what he was because he didn’t try to hide it from them.

He was the shield, standing between Aspen Hill and the world so his town never had to feel the full depths of desperation like he had. The shield got tarnished. The shield got battered. The shield got covered with blood and gore. The shield held firm and kept the ugliness of war from its bearer.

The last of the men below had finally gone to sleep, the campfires slowly dying. Now would be the perfect time to attack, and in the confusion he could make sure none escaped. But he had his instructions.

So he waited in the cold and damp, as the stars crawled by overhead and the nearly full moon inched its way towards the horizon and approaching dawn. Matt would arrive with the others, they would think up a plan to properly intimidate the men below, and this camp would be dealt with.

And only hundreds more refugees out there doing the same, most in smaller groups and not leaving convenient tracks when they attacked their prey. Not for the first time Raul fantasized about making his way to the refugee camp and taking a potshot at Rogers for the trouble he’d caused. Deep down he knew he’d never do something like that, but it was a pleasant thought to entertain.

Instead he planned the morning attack. If Matt was smart, and he was, he’d bring a bullhorn. The best way to let the bandits know they were serious would be to surround the camp, have everyone take cover in case the men below didn’t want to go willingly, then fire short volleys from all directions at the ground around the camp. The bandits would realize they were surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned by enemies they couldn’t even see to shoot back at, in a camp with no cover.

Then Matt could get on his bullhorn and tell them to all come out with their hands up and surrender. The defenders could move in and cover the bandits while restraining them, while watching the camp for anyone hiding. And those who tried to fight would be shot, giving their buddies an even better incentive to give up.

Easy. Simple.

Finally, after an eternity waiting in the darkness with his own thoughts, which wasn’t all that pleasant with the guilt that plagued him and was even worse considering the physical discomforts, his headset finally crackled. Trev, letting them know the rest of the Aspen Hill force had arrived.

Matt had stayed back home, arm immobilized enough from the bruising that he didn’t consider himself combat effective. He was waiting with Chauncey to deal with any fallout from the military over this.

Raul reported back that everything was quiet in camp and the night had been uneventful. But before he could start laying out his plan of attack Lewis cut in and offered his own plan. It was basically the same as what Raul had thought up, except his friend had spent the brief time before dark scouting the terrain around the camp so he could offer more specific details for placing their people.

That was fine. Raul had served under idiots, cowards, and jerks who made it easy to hate their guts. Ferris was a prime example. He was more than happy to take direction from someone competent and responsible, even if it was him who was technically in charge of the sentries.

He added a few tips to help firm up Lewis’s plan, and others added their own insights. It seemed pretty solid by the time the sun cracked the horizon and spilled golden light onto the camp.

Raul and his sentry team watched as the defenders Trev had brought with him took positions to their left and right, and farther along to circle the camp’s perimeter. They were being careful, and it actually took some effort to make out many of them as they settled behind cover.

Then came the interminable waiting with his rifle trained on the camp, looking through his scope as the sleeping bandits began to stir and wake up, and the sentries around the camp were relieved by groggy replacements.

Finally Trev’s voice came clear through his headset. “Go.”

Just for variety Raul aimed at a campfire, while around him his team picked unoccupied spots of ground or newly vacated cover. Within the space of ten seconds two hundred shots rang out from all sides, echoing from the mountain slopes surrounding the meadow like the rumble of a summer thunderstorm. It was an egregious waste of ammunition in his opinion, although he couldn’t argue that if it convinced the bandits to surrender it would use less bullets than gunning down everyone in the camp. Still, it galled him that they had to use a precious resource to clean up this trash.

Down below the bandits went nuts. Diving for cover that wasn’t there, screaming in fear, and a few going down clutching wounds accidentally made by careless bullets from less skilled Aspen Hill defenders.

Overpowering the confusion came Trev’s voice on the bullhorn. “Listen up down there. We’re the Aspen Hill defense. You’re surrounded, outnumbered, and massively outgunned. We missed our first volley on purpose to get your attention… we won’t miss again. Surrender, leave any weapons behind, and walk towards the rising sun one hundred paces, then drop to your stomachs with your hands behind your heads and wait to be arrested. Any other response and we’ll—”

From among the shouting below came a sort of wordless roar. No spoken command by any leader Raul could see, no consensus. The bandits simply reached the same decision as one, and their frantic ducking turned into a charge. He watched as they poured out from camp in all directions, brandishing whatever crude weapons they had and less than ten of them armed with any sort of firearm or other ranged weapon.

Desperation shined in their eyes, so far past the line few even considered surrendering.

“You have five seconds to drop to the ground where you stand, or we fire on you!” Trev’s voice boomed through the bullhorn. No reaction from the bandits, aside from maybe spurring them to even greater speed. Raul had no doubt that they intended to find the defenders surrounding their camp and tear them to pieces if they could.

His friend didn’t count down on the bullhorn, and when Raul’s own silent countdown had reached five seconds no order came. He shifted impatiently and a bit uneasily, wondering what the holdup was. Even though the enemy was mostly armed with hand to hand weapons, if that order didn’t come soon it wouldn’t be long before their people were in danger.

Ten seconds. Still no order. Hadn’t Trev already learned this lesson about not letting the enemy get close? Raul reluctantly toggled his mic, although he allowed no reluctance in his voice as he spoke clearly and firmly. “Open fire.”

He suited his words by squeezing the trigger on the man who’d been running almost directly towards him. The bandit was now less than twenty yards away and not even trying to dodge potential incoming fire. He went down without a noise, and the rattle of gunfire once again came from all sides as the defenders followed Raul’s order.

The fact that the bandits had so viciously gone on the attack helped relieve his conscience somewhat as he picked another target and fired again, and he needed that. Because it wasn’t a battle: it was a bloodbath, with only minimal danger to the defenders and the enemy being gunned down by the dozens in the minute or so it took to finish the grisly job.

In the end less than thirty of the bandits came to their senses and dropped to the ground. Some of them maybe to dodge gunfire, not surrender. But with no one left charging the defenders and Trev on the bullhorn shouting instructions, the surviving men finally rose to their feet and shuffled with hunched shoulders to gather up as he ordered.

Raul led the team that went in to make sure they were disarmed, moving cautiously even though the bandits were lying on their stomachs with their hands behind their heads. They patted down the bandits and bound their hands behind their backs with zip ties and lengths of cord.

It almost went smoothly. Raul was the one who spotted a man in the middle of the crowd rolling onto his back, raising a pistol stolen from Brandon’s patrol. Raul was the one who put two bullets through the would-be assailant’s chest and one through his head before he could get a shot off, then screamed at the other men to stay down and stay still.

They did.

When Raul cautiously made his way over to retrieve the pistol and verify the attacker was dead, he saw that the bandit’s face was bruised. With a surge of satisfaction he realized this was the guy Deb had ID’d, one of the human filth who’d killed Brandon and the others and tried to take her.

Although it wasn’t the most worthy thought, Raul was kind of happy the bandit had been stupid enough to try something so he didn’t come out of this alive. And it felt good to personally be the one to bring him down. A bit of closure for his dead friends.

With the prisoners in hand the fight was finally over, and Raul breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t the only one. “Good job everyone,” Lewis said over the radio. “I’d say we handled that mess about as well as we could.”

“It was a mess though, wasn’t it?” Rick asked. Raul heard it twice, since his friend was standing right next to him as well as transmitting. “I can’t believe the idiots rushed us after we showed them how many guns we had.”

Trev cut in firmly. “It’s a mess that’s over now. Raul, start the prisoners home. Lewis, you take most of our people and search the fallen for wounded, then bury the rest. Be careful in case some are pretending. I’ll take a team through the camp and check for threats, then strip it of anything useful.”

“We’re going to loot the bandit camp?” Ben demanded. The refugee leader sounded deeply offended.

“Would you rather leave that stuff behind?” Trev shot back. Without waiting for an answer he continued. “You’ve got your assignments. Let’s get to work so we can go home.”

As ordered, Raul’s team got the prisoners on their feet and started southward. The ragged men were complaining bitterly, not seeming all that shaken by the deaths of so many of their companions. Raul wanted to gag them, but restricting their breathing while marching them wouldn’t end well. He consoled himself with the fact that soon they’d be too out of breath to piss and moan.

Trev’s team caught up with them after about a half hour, letting them know Lewis’s group would probably not catch up anytime soon, which stood to reason. The blond man came to walk beside Raul, a second rifle and a bundle of cloth tied above his backpack. Raul wondered if the gun was Brandon’s: his dead friend had no family to return his possessions to, but they should still be identified as his and his sacrifice recognized as they were turned over to the town.

“You did a good job back there,” Trev said quietly.

Raul simply nodded. He was exhausted, and not just physically. He wanted to get home, pay his respects to Brandon and the rest of the patrol if they were buried, attend their burial if not, then crash.

After an awkward silence Trev cleared his throat. “I hesitated. I didn’t think I would, but our advantage was overwhelming. It was hard to order a massacre.”

“I get it,” Raul said. And he did: He was the shield. If that included giving unpleasant orders he could handle it.

Everyone wanted to get home as soon as possible. They’d done what they needed to, they’d gotten justice for the patrol and done it in the most civilized way they could, but nobody wanted to dwell on what had happened. So they set a hard pace, slowed only by the malnourished prisoners who stumbled along with their hands bound behind them. Trev insisted they treat the men humanely, but he didn’t insist too hard.

Lewis and the rest of the defenders caught up with them just before they started down the western slope of the valley towards the town below. They’d brought along several seriously wounded bandits they’d done what they could for, along with the body of one who’d died of his wounds en route. They were all fairly grim and, like everyone else, more than eager to get home.

Not surprising considering their task had been burying the dead and dealing with the wounded. They’d been the ones to face the consequences of the attack firsthand.

Trev had radioed in their approach, and likely the sentries and patrols he’d left watching the town had also called in. A large crowd of townspeople was waiting to give them a hero’s welcome. Or at least make sure their loved ones were okay.

Mary was one of those. Raul immediately noticed the blond young woman up front, her breathtakingly lovely face pinched with worry. That worry faded when she caught sight of her family members safe in the group, and she joined the rest of the welcoming party in exchanging hugs with loved ones, relieved no one had been hurt in the fighting.

To Raul’s surprise her relief extended to him, too; she showed no hint of shyness as she called his name and rushed to throw her arms around him. “Are you all right?” she asked, voice muffled by his chest.

Raul stood stiffly in her embrace. He was grungy and a bit embarrassed about how he must smell, but mostly he was in no place to hug her back after the night and morning he’d just had. Finally he managed to raise one hand to tentatively rest between her shoulders. “I’m not hurt,” he could honestly say.

“Good.” She looked up, big blue eyes searching his, and a hint of worry clouded them. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, trying to smile. The expression felt foreign. “Can you tell me what happened with Brandon and the rest of the patrol?”

Mary looked away, face crumpling in sadness. “We buried them in a nice spot overlooking the town.” The blond young woman finally pulled away from him. He was relieved, but at the same time missed the reassuring contact. She shyly reaching out to take his hand. “I’ll show you.”

Raul nodded wearily. Nearby Matt had been getting a report from Trev and Lewis. The Mayor toggled his radio headset. “Chauncey, I want you on the radio screaming at the military until Grimes comes out here. Over seventy men are dead, we’ve lost friends in the most brutal way imaginable, and Rogers caused it. It’s time for the colonel to get off his preoccupied, judgmental butt and do something about this.”

The crippled teacher’s reply came to Raul’s radio along with everyone else’s. “Um, about that, Matt. It looks like our patrol coming under attack finally got someone’s attention, as did our warning we were going after the people who did it. I just got word that the Colonel’s already on his way.”

Mary had paused with him to listen in. Raul heard the news, and he understood why it caused a stir in the crowd, but his mind was a fog. He tapped Trev on the shoulder. “The teams with me were up all night,” he said quietly. “Unless you need us, I’d like to insist you send us home to get some sleep.”

“I can manage,” Lewis immediately said, and Jane nodded, even though neither of the two looked as if they could stay on their feet much longer. A few others who’d been watching the camp joined in insisting they could handle it.

“Good work to everyone who stayed up the night,” Trev said, looking around. “I won’t force you to get some rest with Colonel Grimes making a visit, and I’d like you to be ready in case you’re called to help. Otherwise please, get whatever sleep you can.”

Raul nodded and exchanged a look with Mary, who was still holding his hand. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she seemed to care for him, and was sure he didn’t deserve it. In fact, she’d probably be better off if he told her to avoid him like the plague, go find someone who wasn’t tarnished by his past. Even that prick Robert, if she had to.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how selfish that made him feel. He knew he was fortunate to have friends and a community worth protecting, but sometimes it felt like she was the only good thing in his life. He didn’t want to lose her.

The blond young woman squeezed his hand comfortingly and pointed, starting off. He followed without a word, letting her lead him to where his friends had been buried.

Chapter Fourteen

Resolution

Wonder of wonders, for once the military had actually called ahead to announce they were coming. And even more amazing, it was Colonel Grimes himself who’d be making an appearance.

Matt would’ve been a lot happier about the news yesterday at this same time. Trev and Gutierrez had barely returned from from their attack on the camp, and the entire town was sobered by the event and how few prisoners they’d returned with.

From Trev’s report it sounded like Gutierrez had done an amazing job in spite of the insane aggression of the bandits, but it was still not great news that they’d been forced to kill over two thirds of the enemy.

Given their uncertain standing with Grimes and the frosty meetings they’ve had with the military up til now, Matt wanted to do his best to limit spectators to a minimum so the town wouldn’t present as an unruly mob, as Rogers had portrayed them. The reception for the colonel would be him, the town leaders, and twenty defenders obviously arranged as a protective escort. Everyone else he sent home.

Of course, he’d learned some lessons in caution from the camp coordinator. So just like when Rogers had come to take their food, Matt had defenders waiting in houses and scattered in concealed locations. Just in case.

Seriously last resort, since if a meeting with the colonel himself turned violent that was probably it for Aspen Hill. Which made Matt more than a little nervous. After all, he was representing the town to the nominal leader of this entire region, all of what was left of the United States in the Rocky Mountains.

As an automatic gesture his eyes flicked down to what he was wearing. He’d had plenty of clothes at home when the Gulf burned, and since they were light and useful his family had brought them all with them when they fled Aspen Hill. It had seemed like enough to last him for a long time, but while he did his best to keep them clean and avoid damage, after over a year of 19th century living they were looking pretty ragged.

Hardly Mayoral.

They needed to start getting wool from their sheep, and Hailey needed to start spinning it into cloth with help from anyone else who wanted to make a profession of it. He knew the townspeople involved in hunting were curing hides to stitch into clothing, rugs, and blankets, but he doubted a buckskin outfit would make him look any more sophisticated than stained, faded, torn jeans and a light jacket.

Of course he could go home and change, but somehow getting the town ready for the visit and planning what he’d say seemed more important than making himself presentable.

Then again he wasn’t exactly trained in politics or diplomacy. Trying to keep a town together against bandit raids, starvation, and the coming winter required a certain set of skills that he was barely keeping up with. He wouldn’t be in any way, shape, or form qualified to be Mayor of a pre-Gulf refineries attack town, and handling a visiting dignitary fell into that category.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stick close to me for this,” he said in a low voice to Catherine as everyone scrambled into place, Chauncey’s voice over his headset a constant background keeping him updated on the Colonel’s progress. “I’m not exactly sure what to do here.”

“Talking to a senior military officer about screwups by his subordinates leading to chaos and instability in a region, that you’ve been forced to put down with violence without his authorization?” the former Mayor replied with grim amusement. “I’m happy to lend my considerable experience with that sort of thing.”

That was incredibly reassuring.

It turned out to be a situation of hurry up and wait. After everyone got into position they realized that even with vehicles, it was still a bit of a drive between Manti and their little valley in the mountains way out in the middle of nowhere. So after Matt double-checked that the prisoners, corralled in a meadow just south of town on the other side from the road, had been given a bit of food and water so the town wouldn’t be accused of mistreatment, he and Sam hurried home so he could change after all.

His wife agreed completely with him that he should be dressed up for this occasion. With her help he got an old suit laid out, which was slightly short on him but other than that fit as well as when he’d worn it in high school, then hastily bathed himself with soap, water, and a cloth and dug out a stick of deodorant that these days he only used for special occasions, usually a date with Sam.

She was only a month or so from having the baby now, round and awkward and constantly battling between her seemingly endless energy and enthusiasm and her need to take things easy. She wanted to help, but at his insistence she settled on their bed while he tidied himself up.

“This is like staring at a buffet I can’t eat,” she teased at one point.

He gave her a slightly incredulous look as he tried to put on his shirt. With the bruises from the gunshot it turned out to be more difficult than he’d expected. “This isn’t exactly the best time for that.”

“Duh.” She pushed heavily to her feet and came over to help him, motioning for him to stoop so she could get behind him and finagle his arms into the sleeves. As he worked with the buttons she popped up his collar and started tying his tie, talking as she did. “I can’t wait to get this little guy or gal out so I don’t have to be pregnant anymore.”

He patiently let her finish the knot and arrange it properly, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to be feeling too frisky for a while after that.”

Sam lightly punched him, careful to avoid the bruised area. “I meant in general. This magical experience has a lot of unmagical parts to it.” She helped him into his suit jacket and smoothed the collar after he buttoned it.

“As opposed to caring for an infant that wakes up every few hours?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” His wife rested one hand over her round belly. “The rascal’s already driving me crazy with all the kicking.”

“That probably means a boy, right?” Matt asked.

“Dr. Maggy doesn’t want to say one way or another.” Sam stepped back and looked him over, then whistled softly. “Wow hot stuff. Your wife must have to chase the other ladies off with a stick.”

“Not in her condition. And she’s looking pretty good herself.” He leaned down to give her a long kiss.

Which of course was interrupted by the defender on far patrol to the west reporting in through his headset. “Military convoy approaching.”

Sam felt him tense and pulled back. “He’s here?” she guessed.

“Looks like it.” Taking his wife’s hand, he started out the door and towards the north end of town. Neighbors popped their heads out doors as he passed, and he sternly waved them back into their houses.

Once they reached the people gathered to receive their visitor Sam squeezed his hand and broke away and join the town leaders, while Matt gathered up Lucas, Chauncey, Catherine, and Deb. They stepped forward to meet the vehicles coming down the western slope, Chauncey slightly awkward on his prosthetic leg.

The military convoy rolled right up to them, the lead vehicle stopping only ten or so feet away. Matt tensed slightly at that, although he was comforted knowing how many defenders were in position to cover him if, God forbid, things turned unpleasant.

A man fitting Lucas’s description of Colonel Grimes hopped out of the lead truck, and when Matt glanced back at the older man he got a confirming nod. The colonel stepped forward alone to meet them, which seemed like a good sign.

“Colonel Grimes,” Matt said formally, offering his hand. “I’m Matthew Larson, Mayor of Aspen Hill.”

“Mayor,” the colonel replied gruffly, returning a firm grip. “I’d heard you were young.”

Matt ignored the unspoken judgment in the words as he turned to the four people with him. “Allow me to introduce Catherine Tillman, who served as Mayor before me. She’s providing invaluable insight based on her considerable experience. Lucas Halsson you already know. And this is Chauncey Watson, our town’s radio expert, and Debra Rutledge, one of the town’s defenders.”

Grimes nodded and prepared to speak, but Matt hastily continued. “Chauncey and Lucas have prepared a report for you, everything we have on what’s been going on in the area since Major Rogers sent the refugees our way without consulting us. They’ve used radio communications, reports from our defenders and townspeople, and eyewitness testimony from a few other residents in the area that Aspen Hill aided when they faced the threat of banditry. They’ve also accumulated a modest amount of video, photographic, and audio evidence.”

That took the colonel aback. “You have that sort of evidence these days?”

“Our town has enough solar panels to run a few essential electronics. Including smart phones, which is enough for most things. And I’m willing to attest that this evidence, as well as the other information provided by these two gentlemen, is true to the best of our knowledge, and comes from reliable sources.”

Grimes paused for just a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I’m eager to finally hear Aspen Hill’s side of things,” he said to the two men. Then he turned an expectant gaze on Deb, waiting to hear what she was doing there. The brown-haired woman cringed slightly at his attention, then staunchly straightened to her full medium height. She was still a bit pale after yesterday’s ordeal, but looking well rested at least.

Matt’s tone turned grim as he finished the introduction. “And Deb is the last surviving member of the patrol that was ambushed yesterday afternoon. She’s agreed to give you a full account of the attack. We also have photos of the crime scene and the victims. We already performed funeral services and buried our people, as you can understand.”

The senior officer nodded to her as well, much more gravely. “My condolences, ma’am,” he said. “I regret it took the deaths of your companions to finally bring this matter to my attention.”

Bring the matter to his attention. As if Aspen Hill hadn’t sent a delegation directly to the man asking for help, and Chauncey hadn’t been talking himself hoarse over the radio trying to get someone, anyone, on Grimes’s end to do or even say anything. The colonel had apparently already learned the lesson Catherine had taught Matt about never admitting guilt by saying sorry.

Before Matt could think of a response the colonel curtly motioned to him. “Before we begin I’d like to have a word in private, Mayor.”

“Of course,” Matt said. He motioned to a bench outside a nearby house, just a roughly smoothed log sitting on two stumps, and led the way over to offer a seat, then sat down himself ready to hear the man out.

Grimes dove right into it. “I’ll be frank, Mayor. While you do have my sympathy for the loss of your people, the reason I’m here is because of your openly, and might I add loudly, stated intent to go after the men who killed them.”

So you don’t mind when we die, but you come running when the people attacking us might come to harm, Matt thought bitterly. He knew that wasn’t entirely fair, since what the colonel was probably worried about was the eruption of large scale violence in the area. Still Aspen Hill had plenty of reason to be justifiably angry and Matt was less and less inclined to excuse the man.

While he was silently fuming Grimes had continued. “I think you can understand that, angry as your people might be, I need you to hold off on taking action against the camp harboring these men. Let the military handle it.”

Matt took a breath to steel himself. Angry as he was, he didn’t look forward to what was coming next. He decided to ease into it. “With all due respect, Colonel, we haven’t received any responses to our requests for aid, instruction, or arbitration. In the meantime those bandits butchered four people whose duty was to protect this town. When we went to their camp to demand the others give up the criminals who committed that atrocity they fired on us. Fired on me, hitting me in the chest.” He pointed to the exact spot where the vest material had punctured his skin, although of course it couldn’t be seen.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not qualified to handle this situation.”

And there it was. “Apparently we are, since we hit the camp at dawn. The prisoners are waiting under guard south of town.”

From the direction this conversation had been going he expected Grimes to explode in righteous anger at that. But the man just slumped slightly in his seat, looking exhausted. “You took them prisoner, then?”

“We tried to capture them all alive, to hand over to you for judgment or to deal with ourselves if you refused to,” Matt replied, trying not to sound defensive. “We surrounded their camp and presented a display of force, then demanded they surrender and submit to arrest. They decided to attack us, and we were forced to defend ourselves. It didn’t go well for them. Those who finally did surrender are being held in custody, aside from the wounded being treated in our clinic by our doctors.”

The colonel rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring at the ground as he spoke. “You can’t take the law into your own hands, Mayor Larson. Aspen Hill isn’t an isolated town fighting against the world, it’s part of a community. Dealing with criminals is our job, and trying to do it yourself only creates problems.”

Only creates-

Matt sucked in a sharp breath, tried to control his anger, and only partially succeeded. “We contacted you yesterday after our people were killed,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone level. “We’ve been contacting you for the last nine days since Rogers sent 1,000 of his camp’s criminals and malcontents our way and created this problem in the first place. We heard nothing but silence and you sent away the people we sent to represent our side of the situation. So we did what we had to.”

The man’s face was reddening with his own anger. “You didn’t give us time to—”

“No,” Matt cut in sharply, surging to his feet. “You can’t claim a vital job, not do it, then get mad at us for having no choice but to do it ourselves. It took the deaths of over 70 people to get you to finally step in and look at a problem someone under your command created. You dropped the ball in the worst way possible, and now you’re telling us to trust you to handle things?”

Grimes sat through his rant, expression stony. When Matt finally finished the colonel abruptly stood as well. “Give me a day,” he growled. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Suddenly more frustrated than angry, Matt sank back down into his seat, staring up at the man. “That would be great, but right now what this town needs is for you to do something about the displaced refugees scattered for miles in every direction, half of whom have turned to banditry. Take them back into a refugee camp, send them aid and leave them where they are but read them the Riot Act, I don’t care. Just as long as they stop attacking my town.”

“Because if they do you’ll attack them back?”

It was a petty jibe, but under the circumstances Matt was willing to let it slide. “We’ll defend ourselves. We have the right to do that, don’t we?”

“If that’s what you’re doing.” Grimes turned back to where the others waited. “Let’s hear the details from your people, as well as any eyewitnesses you have. And then I suppose we’ll have to talk to your prisoners and get their side of things.”

“If they’re inclined to tell the truth about what happened,” Matt said, following the man.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, son,” the colonel snapped. He raised his voice to address the people ahead. “Mr. Watson, Mr. Halsson, Ms. Rutledge. If I could borrow you for a day, two at most, I’d like to get your testimony as we drive, as well as make use of your familiarity with this area. I’ll probably also need to go over most of this in a more formal setting back in my camp so it can be officially recorded.”

The three glanced at Matt, who hesitated, shrugged, then nodded. They’d already sent people to Grimes and he’d treated them okay. “That’s fine with me,” Lucas said. “I welcome the chance to finally tell our side of the story.”

“I suppose Rick can take over on the radio for a day or two,” Chauncey said. He leaned down and rapped on his wooden prosthetic. “As long as I won’t have to do much walking.”

Attention settled on Deb, and she wilted slightly in fear. “I’d prefer to talk about the attack here, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

Grimes gave her a curious look. “I’ll make sure your situation is comfortable and provide for your needs while you’re assisting me. You’ll be treated well.”

Deb gave Matt a beseeching look. He stepped closer to the colonel, lowering his voice. “Ms. Rutledge has suffered some traumatic events recently. She was a blockhead prisoner.”

“Ah. I understand,” Grimes said. He genuinely seemed to: likely he’d heard more than his share of reports about the atrocities committed by the enemy. “Although I hope she knows there’s a world of difference between Gold Bloc soldiers and the servicemen and women of the United States Armed Forces.”

Matt agreed completely and was sure Deb would be safe if she went. Still, he hesitated to bring up that their recent encounters with the military had been less than favorable. “Maybe she can tell her story while we go see about the prisoners.”

“That’s fine.” Grimes turned to face him fully. “You’ll let us take them off your hands, won’t you?”

“As long as they receive justice for their crimes and are prevented from harming other innocents,” Matt agreed. Personally he was happy not to have to worry about them, especially if it meant not having to order the execution of those whose crimes demanded it. He’d been dreading that eventuality.

“You have my word on it.” Grimes politely offered an arm to Deb. “Please relate what happened to your patrol in as detailed and accurate a manner as possible, Ms. Rutledge. Your testimony, as well as that of those who confronted the accused in their camp, and Mayor Larson himself when he was shot, will be important in seeing they receive the proper punishment for their crimes.”

Deb was obviously reluctant to make physical contact with a stranger, considering she was skittish even around Trev, but she hesitantly took his arm as Matt led the way through town to where the prisoners were being held. Behind them the rest of the town’s delegation and the military convoy followed.

* * *

Aspen Hill waited with something between anticipation and dread for Grimes to come back with news, or at least send word through Lucas and Chauncey.

In spite of the ever-present threat of winter looming over them not much work was accomplished that day. Those who’d taken part in the morning attack were resting, especially those who’d been with Gutierrez watching the camp all night. There was also the sense of mourning for members of the patrol who’d died yesterday.

And, it had to be said, there was the tenseness of having four soldiers guarding the clinic in rotating shifts. They were there to keep watch on the prisoners who were too wounded to move, at least until a properly equipped medical vehicle could come pick them up. But although the soldiers were courteous when addressed and expressionless otherwise, Matt got the sense they were also there to keep any Aspen Hill citizens from getting ideas about exacting their own vengeance.

A reasonable precaution, if unnecessary.

Derek manning the radio reported that while Grimes and his staff weren’t relaying any news, the colonel was still having his people touch base with the town every few hours. Almost as if trying to make up for his previous blatant silence in the face of their pleas for help. A bit of news did trickle through, though, mostly from secondary sources.

The biggest news was that a serious upset was happening in Rogers’s camp. Apparently Grimes had been “displeased” with the conditions there and had called for resources to be relocated from another camp to aid in the immediate needs of the refugees until things could be sorted out. Matt wasn’t sure if that meant Rogers had been tossed out, hopefully with a swift kick to see him out the door, but it seemed like a good sign.

In spite of everything there were a few attempts by displaced refugees in the area to sneak into town. Either they hadn’t heard about the camp to the north being wiped out, and the military finally being active in the area to put down the chaos, or they were making one last desperate attempt to do something, anything. Probably as a prelude to fleeing the area. Either way Trev’s defenders rounded them up and tossed them in the makeshift prison cabin for Grimes to deal with when he returned.

At the very least, when they reported the attempted intrusions over the radio the military responded promptly on the issue, with assurances they’d handle it and instructions to hold the prisoners unharmed until then. It looked as if someone had finally gotten the message, probably after having it screamed in his ear by an irate NCO taking his own flak from up the chain of command.

Night fell with no further word, and everyone went to sleep in tense anticipation. The next day brought the sudden arrival of cold weather, accompanied by a stiff wind and high scudding clouds overhead. The chill held on until nearly noon, when it finally relented enough for people to swap from coats to light jackets, or even long-sleeved shirts.

That was also when they got news that Grimes was headed their way, to bring Chauncey and Lucas back home and to fill the town in on what had happened since his earlier visit.

Matt was more relaxed in his response this time around. He didn’t require everyone to stay indoors, although he did ask them to not crowd if they could avoid it. And while he had Trev get the defenders in place, just as a precaution, he didn’t expect there was any threat.

This time the colonel came with a much smaller convoy, just three trucks. Again the man hopped down from his vehicle without any sort of protective escort, although he was accompanied by Lucas and Chauncey.

The three made their way to the gathered crowd to explain the situation. Grimes didn’t seem to mind letting everyone know what was going on. In fact, he was happy to raise his voice for those farther back as he gave them the news.

First off, as they’d suspected Rogers was no longer in charge of the refugee camp. He’d been relieved of duty and faced a dishonorable discharge. The major’s replacement was doing his best to fix the situation there.

Second off, Grimes had patrols scouring as much of the area as possible to find the displaced refugees and bring them back to camp, where they’d be watched for the time being. For those accused of committing crimes, if witnesses came forward and could eyeball the perpetrator the colonel’s staff would do their best to ensure justice was done.

Grimes couldn’t force the refugees to come back with him, aside from those suspected of committing crimes. But today’s sudden turn to cold weather actually helped there. Few of the men out on the mountainsides were equipped to handle even these temperatures at night, which meant they wouldn’t have much choice besides returning to a refugee camp and hoping for a better situation this time around.

Matt had been hoping for a bit sterner punishments, but he supposed he’d have to take what he could get. People like Rogers had a way of ducking consequences, and as for the bandits who’d killed their victims, and so wouldn’t have to worry about witnesses, there wasn’t much anyone could do to even pinpoint who they were, let alone accuse them.

There was one other group mentioned which Matt was relieved to hear news of, although it had taken longer than expected. Rogers had refused to say anything about the whereabouts of the soldiers who’d been with him when he came for Aspen Hill’s “surplus” food, the ones who’d refused to turn weapons on Aspen Hill residents. And in spite of Grimes growing increasingly irate in his insistence, it’d taken nearly a full day to locate them.

It turned out that after being severely disciplined, the twenty men had been reassigned to refugee camps farther south. Rogers had further discredited them by labeling them lazy troublemakers and accepting the dregs of units at those camps as their replacements. Ironically those incompetents and malcontents had become some of the major’s most loyal supporters, at least until Grimes ousted him yesterday.

That incident had been expunged from the records of the twenty men, and they were free to return to their original posts if they wished. Now that Rogers was gone many of them had, which meant Aspen Hill might have friends in the refugee camp for future dealings.

As for Aspen Hill, there would be no further harassment from the military about their supplies or taking in refugees. And unless other evidence of malfeasance was brought to bear they also wouldn’t face any punishment for the actions they’d taken against bandits in their area.

It was everything the townspeople had wanted to hear, and more than most had expected. The mood was relieved, even celebratory, as Grimes fell silent and stepped back to let them soak in the knowledge that the ordeal was over.

Matt followed him over, mostly out of earshot of the crowd. “Thanks for sorting this out, Colonel,” he said, offering the older man a sincere handshake. “It was getting ugly for us for a while.”

Grimes scowled, although not specifically at Matt. “Ugly all around. Issues of right and wrong aside, and even admitting that most of the blame lies on the military’s end of things, your man Chauncey’s also been giving us a public relations battering on the radio.”

Matt blinked. “Really? I thought he wasn’t making much headway over Rogers’s narrative.”

“You and me both, Mayor,” the colonel growled. “I just barely learned of it. My own fault, for assuming that what people are saying on military channels is all the conversation there is. The boys in uniform were backing Rogers out of solidarity, but with the civilians it’s a completely different story. Several towns and settlements in the area are on the verge of calling the former camp coordinator a tinpot dictator, one working with my approval in a military dictatorship. And the civilians are a much, much bigger group than the soldiers I have with me, a group I hadn’t heard a peep out of because none of them wanted to make an issue of it, just in case they got the same treatment your town did.”

“Sounds like a mess all around,” Matt commented.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Grimes rubbed between his eyes. “I’ll spend the rest of the time we have until the snows fall putting out fires from this, and you can bet in the spring people will be demanding an election to restore civilian government. I don’t suppose I blame them, since putting the power in the hands of the military sets a dangerous precedent.” He sighed. “Long term I want to get back to the system we had, preferably when it still worked reasonably well, but it sure makes my job more difficult in the here and now.”

“I regret Aspen Hill’s role in all this,” Matt said. Not exactly an apology, but even without the benefit of Catherine’s advice he wasn’t about to say anything that indicated his town was at fault for what had happened. At least he could commiserate.

“If that’s true then have your man on the radio keep telling the truth going forward, in this case about the situation being resolved and the military doing its best to make things right. The last thing we need is widespread civil unrest over chasing a mistake that’s been corrected.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said. “If you’re making things right then it’s only fair people know.”

“Appreciate that.” Grimes abruptly shifted in place, looking a bit reluctant. “I also want you to know that sending Aspen Hill’s delegation home and refusing to listen to your town’s side of things wasn’t malicious.”

“Colonel?” Matt replied hesitantly. How exactly did you respond to something like that?

The senior officer continued with the plodding tone of someone who had something to get off his chest. “It was a combination of a lot of things: overwork, enormous amounts of pressure from my responsibilities, bad intel, bias in favor of the men under my command, and a negative predisposition towards your town.”

Matt wasn’t sure why the man was telling him this. Guilt? Trying to excuse away his culpability? “All right.” Then he couldn’t help himself. “What negative predisposition?”

The colonel chuckled humorlessly. “That you guys go off half-cocked. Back when we were fighting the blockheads, a few of your strikes against the forces occupying the area around your town caused a hassle for me.”

“They did?” Matt blurted, incredulous. “We barely made a dent in the grand scheme of things.”

“For want of a horseshoe…” Grimes replied. “Small things, I’ll admit, and you did more good than harm. Mostly it was the fact that you never bothered to let us know what you were doing so we could plan accordingly.”

“We, uh, hadn’t considered that,” Matt admitted sheepishly. “I guess we figured the area we were guarding was our business. But since we were part of the larger war we really should’ve been coordinating better with the military.”

The older man waved him off. “You got better later on, probably thanks to your radio man Chauncey. And my people who worked with you had good things to say, from what little I heard. But with so much else to worry about a bad first impression was all I had time to give you.”

Huh. So Grimes could’ve been an ally if Lewis had just taken the time to radio the guys up north that they were going to be stirring up the hornet’s nest around Aspen Hill. Such a simple thing to get so many people killed.

Of course, even if the colonel had a legitimate complaint about something that happened during the fight against the blockheads, it had nothing to do with what’d happened here. Nor should it have. “Was that why Rogers went after us, too?”

Grimes paused thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Possibly. Something about your town definitely seems to have put a stick up his butt. And the fact that you tried to handle him on your own certainly didn’t help things.”

“We constantly tried to tell our side of the story and ask for outside arbitration,” Matt pointed out.

The colonel didn’t get defensive or back down this time. “Yes, but when it came right down to it instead of going through proper channels you drew weapons on one of my officers and twenty of his men.”

Since going through proper channels had done so much good. “I guess we’re used to only being able to depend on ourselves when it comes to handling problems,” Matt replied. “That comes from hard experience.”

He hadn’t meant to be quite that accusatory. Or maybe he had. The senior officer gave him a resigned look. “I don’t expect you to let me off the hook for this mess, but things will go better if we can work together from now on. I hope my efforts to rectify this situation help with that.”

Well Grimes was right about that first part. But at least he’d paved the way to heal relations in the future. Matt was willing to cut him some slack. “Aspen Hill wants to work with the military and be part of the larger events going on in the Rocky Mountains. Keep us in the loop and we’ll do our best.”

The colonel abruptly chuckled and offered his hand. “I made a jibe about your age when we first met, Larson, but you do a good job. I can see why you landed this job.”

“Thank you, Colonel. That means a lot.” After they exchanged a second handshake Matt indicated the crowd, and Grimes nodded and allowed himself to be led back that way. Hopefully he’d be willing to field a few questions and make further comments.

But just short of rejoining the Aspen Hill townspeople the older man stopped again. “By the way. The initial surplus given to the town, which Major Rogers largely used as an excuse to start this mess in the first place, was arranged by Sergeant Ethan Davis, with the support of Lieutenant Dell Faraday and approval by my staff.”

“Good to know,” Matt said. The news coming now was a surprise, but he’d suspected it would be something like that back when Corporal Bryant first delivered the supplies.

Grimes shook his head. “In fact it wasn’t a surplus at all. It was provided specifically for services rendered by the town and its volunteers, as well as the loan or gift of valuable heavy weaponry and its ammunition, a captured enemy truck and fuel along with a significant stock of supplies, and finally the sale of dozens of good condition M16s and 1911s.”

That certainly seemed reasonable, although Matt’s brow furrowed. “For that last one I was led to believe we already received payment.”

The colonel smiled slightly. “As I understand it you received verbal permission for first chance to sift through the trash Sergeant Davis left behind when he rolled out. That doesn’t seem like an equitable exchange.”

“So Rogers was trying to steal our own supplies from us, and lied about how we got them?”

Grimes shook his head slowly. “In this case I believe the Major was in fact misinformed as to specific details. But basically yes.”

Matt wasn’t so sure. Rogers was a bureaucrat, specific details were his bread and butter. But it wasn’t worth making an issue of. At least now there was even better assurance the military wouldn’t be coming after their supplies again. Hopefully now the town could get back to scrambling to survive in peace.

The colonel graciously accepted the refreshments Matt brought out to make the event a proper celebration. He stayed for a half hour or so chatting with the leaders of the town, discussing the future of the US.

At one point he took a swig of his powdered lemonade and grimaced. “Some folks have started calling what we’ve got here in the Rockies the New United States.” He spat off to one side. “New what? We’re US citizens, guarded by the US Armed Forces and occupying US territory. It’s irritating enough when people talk like we’re remnants of the country. What we need is to return to our roots, not abandon them for something new.”

“Maybe a bit of both is called for,” Lucas said mildly. “I’d also prefer to call ourselves the United States we still are, but I’d say the New United States at least gives a nod to our roots.”

“That may be,” the colonel grumbled. “But when the elections roll around I won’t be getting behind anyone who uses the name. How about the message it sends to the rest of the world? This is our home, our land. If we start acting like we’re a brand new country then the Gold Bloc and Canada and Mexico and everyone else will have no problem arguing we don’t have a legitimate claim, and will come try to take a piece of us.” He spat again. “Besides, New United States just sounds stupid. Name one country out there with “new” in its name.”

Predictably, Lewis was willing to field that one. “New Zealand and New Guinea, off the top of my head.”

Grimes waved that off. “Would you really want to be a citizen of the New United States?”

“Not really,” Matt admitted. There were a few nods around the group.

“I actually don’t care all that much,” Deb offered. “As long as it’s a stable country.”

Before Grimes left he had a gift for them. Specifically, six months of supplies for the wounded veterans and the recruited refugees. “Our job is to make sure everyone has their share,” he said by way of explanation. “I don’t know what this Corporal Bryant was thinking pawning veterans off on you without supplies for them. If anyone deserves their due, it’s those hurt protecting our country. If anything they deserve more than we can give, but this’ll have to do for now.”

“It’s more than enough,” Matt said. There was no shortage of volunteers to offload the much-needed supplies.

Then the senior officer was hopping into the passenger seat of his truck with a final wave, and the convoy rumbled up the road headed back to Manti.

As Matt stood watching them go, arms wrapped around Sam, Gutierrez sidled up to watch with them. “So when the Colonel pulled you aside, did he tell you what Rogers could expect for all the trouble he’s caused?”

Matt shrugged. “I heard what you did. Dishonorable discharge.”

“So that’s it?” Gutierrez demanded, glaring after the trucks. “Rogers caused the deaths of who knows how many people, and suffering for way more. A lot of innocent people, and even the guilty might not’ve deserved what happened to them before he drove them to it. And he gets to just walk away with no more than a light scolding?”

Matt shook his head. “That seems to be how the world works. The people who cause the most harm always avoid the consequences. It’s usually the innocent who suffer in their place.” He sighed. “I don’t like it either, but for me it’s enough that he’s been booted from the military so he’s not in a position to do any more harm. In the end whether he was jailed, exiled, put up in front of a firing squad, or just discharged from his commission, the results for all of us would be the same. The problem he was causing is solved, and hopefully his replacement will learn something from his mistakes.”

The former soldier spat off to the side. “Not after watching his predecessor royally screw up and get off scot free.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. “Would you consider a dishonorable discharge scot free?” Matt asked. His friend gave him a wounded look, and he guiltily realized that was basically what had happened to the former soldier. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Guess I’m the pot calling the kettle, huh?” Gutierrez cut in. Mumbling something in Spanish, he stalked off.

Sam watched him go, brow furrowed worriedly. “He’s not doing so great, is he? I should talk to Mary to see what she can do for him.”

Matt blinked. “I didn’t realize they were that serious.”

His wife shrugged. “She thinks they’re getting there. I hope so… they’d be an adorable couple.”

Interesting. Hopefully that would help Gutierrez get over whatever was eating him. Still… “I’ll have a talk with him.” Matt pulled her a bit closer. “But first can we enjoy a few minutes knowing our troubles with Rogers are finally over?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed, leaning back against him with a contented sound.

Chapter Fifteen

Unexpected Opportunity

The morning three days after Grimes returned with his news that the bandit problem was resolved found Matt cuddling with Sam under a blanket, listening to a book on tape from Lewis’s archives on her phone.

She’d been up most of the night, unable to sleep and bundling up to visit the latrine several times. Dr. Maggy had assured them that neither of those things were particularly unusual, but stressed that Sam needed to try to rest more. So Matt was setting aside his duties for a moment to relax with her, just to make sure she did.

It was his first chance to enjoy some much needed time with his wife for what seemed like weeks, during the day when neither of them were asleep. Which they both really could use after everything that had happened.

So of course Murphy’s Law kicked in, and Trev’s voice crackled over the radio sitting on their bedside table. “We’ve got a military truck approaching. Alone, covered in markings.”

That was the last thing Matt wanted to hear. Even though Grimes seemed to have resolved the situation with Rogers and had dealt with most of the displaced refugees, news of an approaching military vehicle was enough to stiffen his spine and make the hairs on his neck stand on end. Sam twisted to give him a look of concern as he gently extricated himself and leaned over to grab the radio.

“Markings? Like a special branch of the military, or some civilian outfit?”

His friend’s voice came back sounding amused. “Well the markings say things like “Jewelry for sale”, “Discount ammo”, and “Winter coats”. So I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s probably a traveling salesman.”

Matt exhaled what felt like every ounce of air in his lungs in relief. At his side Sam gently shoved him, her expression suggesting it was meant for Trev for scaring them like that. “You couldn’t have said that from the start? Things are tense around here.”

“Humor’s good for morale,” Trev replied. “Anyway any salesman with a truck probably has high end stuff to trade, to justify the expense of using fuel. He’ll probably have things we want.”

Matt was already pulling on his boots, but he paused long enough to reply. “Probably. But either way I want you to cover him just in case this is some sort of trick. Remember, Ferris took Helper by pretending to be a relief convoy.”

“Already on it,” his friend replied. “In the meantime should I roll out the welcome mat?”

“Go for it. Specifically, I want you to represent the town and get first offer on all his trade goods.”

There was a long pause. “You want to buy it all up, even luxury items?”

Sam gave him a curious look as he answered. “Of course not. But I want the town to have a chance to pick up what we need first. There are a few folks here who are well enough off that they might want to snatch up everything they can afford, then turn around and flip it at a markup to people who are desperate for it.”

“Gotcha. I’ll talk it over with him.”

Matt’s bruises had healed enough that he could put on his own coat without help now. As he was zipping it up he noticed Sam pulling herself out of bed and felt a moment of guilt. He didn’t want to tell her to miss the fun, but at the same time he didn’t want her to exert herself.

“You should stay here and rest,” he said.

She gave him a plaintive look. “I was going to, I just need to pee again. This little guy’s using my bladder as a trampoline.”

“Okay.” Matt leaned down and kissed her, briefly resting a hand on her belly to confirm that yes, the baby was kicking like crazy in there. “I’ll try to find something nice for you.”

“Don’t worry about me, take care of the town,” she insisted as she started for the back door. Then she hesitated and gave him a sheepish look. “Although I wouldn’t say no if you did happen to pick something up.”

Grinning to himself, Matt headed for what everyone was jokingly coming to call the Greeting Field, where they usually waited for visitors.

* * *

Lewis and his dad immediately pooled their store of precious metals when they heard about the approaching trader. The entire time Lewis fidgeted with nervous excitement at the thought of what sort of useful items might be carried by someone who’d use up hard to find diesel to drive around in search of trades.

In the back of his mind tickled the thought that things didn’t quite add up. Aspen Hill was doing all right as towns went, but aside from this business with Rogers they’d stayed fairly low key and off the radar. And news that they’d been harassed by the military and were fighting off hundreds of refugees turned to banditry didn’t exactly scream prosperity.

With such a huge risk, not only of being robbed but of simply using fuel for no good reason, why would anyone come here to trade?

His dad was smiling too, and at first Lewis attributed it to his own excitement at what they might be able to purchase. Then he caught the looks his dad kept shooting his way when he thought Lewis wouldn’t notice. And just that suddenly it clicked.

“This is a deal you made at the Manti camp, isn’t it?”

Lucas chuckled and scooped up the last of their one-ounce coins. “Let’s see.”

Sudden excitement surged through Lewis, even more than when he’d first heard the news. “You found a supply of smokeless powder and primers.”

“Now how did—” his dad started, looking genuinely surprised and a bit put out. Then he sighed and shook his head. “You’re way too sharp, son. Can’t even let your old man spring a pleasant surprise on you.”

So it was true, his dad had found him a source. After all this time waiting and searching. Lewis wished Jane could be here for this, but she was out on patrol, using her typical method of keeping an eye out for game as well as threats. Still, it would be good news for when she got home.

As they gathered up their gear to head outside his dad coughed a few times, pausing to lean against the doorway. Lewis watched it with concern; it wasn’t the first time his dad had coughed like this in the last couple days. “Are you okay?”

Lucas straightened with a slightly irritated smile. “Guess I’m just not reacting to the cold all that well.”

“Doesn’t say much for our Viking heritage,” Lewis joked. Then he sobered up. “Seriously though. Think it’s possible you might’ve picked something up while you were with Grimes’s soldiers?”

His dad waved that away, even more irritable. “It gets cold, people cough. No need to read more into it than it is.”

Lewis nodded doubtfully. “Okay. But rest if you need to. The rest of us can take care of getting ready for the winter well enough if you need to take a few days.”

“Let’s just go get your reloading supplies,” his dad grumbled.

A lot of people in town were coming out to see what the trader had to offer. Even though most of them didn’t have anything they could afford to give as trade items they still wanted to see what was available. The two Halsson men joined the parade to the north end of town, watching as the truck rumbled down the road towards them.

Trev hadn’t exaggerated his description of the vehicle. It was covered with neat writing in white paint, large enough to read from a good distance away, of various items on offer at reasonable prices. Judging by how packed with goods the cab was Lewis assumed the covered bed would be equally crammed. A good sign.

Two men could be seen through the windshield squeezed in among the goods, an older man in the driver’s seat and a massive younger man who looked like a bodyguard, leaning out the passenger window riding literal shotgun with a 12 gauge in his hands.

Trev and his defenders intercepted the truck before it reached the crowd, and Lewis watched his cousin make his way around to the driver’s door to speak to the older man. About taking all the best stuff for the town.

Lewis wasn’t terribly happy about that. He got Matt’s argument about unscrupulous people hoarding essential goods for profit while their neighbors suffered. But considering Lewis was one of those with the means to purchase items his family and the shelter group in general could really use, and the town was stepping in and preventing him from doing so, it was a bit annoying.

Still, the smokeless powder and primers should be a different deal entirely, and if Matt tried to horn in on that Lewis was going to have a real problem with him. He’d been trying to get his reloading business off the ground for over a month now and had already invested a lot into it, and his dad was the one who’d made the deal with the trader that brought him here in the first place, specifically so Lewis could acquire those items.

He was probably just being paranoid though. He couldn’t see his friend shafting him like that for the town’s benefit, assuming the town even could get some benefit from propellants they’d have limited use for.

Still, there was plenty of other stuff he wouldn’t be getting his hands on since Aspen Hill had first pick. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so excited about gathering up his precious metals. Then again, maybe there were potentially useful items Matt and the others would overlook, giving him a shot at them.

… which would then leave him with the dilemma of informing the town of their potential utility to benefit Aspen Hill, or withholding the information for his own benefit and doing exactly the kind of thing Matt had wanted to prevent. Crap.

He spied the Mayor making his way through the crowd to join Trev and fell into step next to him for a few seconds. “You sure have a way of making an exciting event less fun,” he muttered, hopefully low enough that only his friend could hear.

Matt gave him a confused look. “You mean first pick for the town?”

“Yeah.”

His friend grinned. “You know the town still owes you some for the food you and Trev sold us. Among other things. We need to pay you off somehow.” He patted Lewis’s shoulder and kept on going to greet the trader.

Well, that made him feel a little better.

It turned out the trader, Ned Orban, knew the sorts of things that were worth burning diesel to cart to potential customers. His truck was filled with small but valuable items like water filters, ammunition, nails, screws, hinges, and latches, larger items like wood burning stoves, a variety of saws, axes, hammers, picks, and sharpening tools, and squeezed into the top he’d crammed rolled up blankets and cold weather clothing.

And candles. Lots of candles of every size and shape. And oil lanterns, and electric lanterns and flashlights and hundreds of batteries. If Matt didn’t pick up every single means of producing light Ned was selling to get the town through this winter he was an idiot; solar power could only do so much, most of what their panels provided was limited to the Halsson and Smith homes and the clinic and town hall, and the nights were going to be long and dark.

The trader also had a shocking array of incredibly expensive jewelry, probably looted from an upscale store somewhere. Lewis noticed Trev, Rick, and a few others perusing the items on display, suspiciously watched over by Paul, the bodyguard. Even Matt poked his head in, although he seemed to lose interest when he saw the prohibitive price.

Sure, the cost wasn’t anywhere near what things like white gold, platinum, and diamonds were actually worth. But way more than anyone struggling to survive could afford for luxury items.

Unfortunately what Ned was willing to trade for was pretty limited. The list started at food and ended at… food. Aside from things of obvious value and utility, for instance he was interested when Lewis mentioned the town had solar panels and livestock, although disappointed they weren’t willing to trade any, he really didn’t want much of what the townspeople had to offer.

With the town facing an ammunition shortage Matt was able to trade some of their spare guns and parts for a surprisingly generous return, and a few people who were better off for food managed to get decent returns on other items they desperately needed.

As for Lewis and his dad and their precious metals, Ned was interested but not willing to offer anywhere near the full value for gold, silver, or platinum, unlike Newtown had when Lucas had traded there. Lewis had other things to trade, such as condoms from his stockpile and other small but valuable and useful items he’d prepared from before the Gulf burned.

The trader was very interested in Lewis’s hard drives, too. Lewis balked at first, until he realized the man had drives of his own and what he wanted was the terabytes of movies, music, books, and other media Lewis had stored on them.

“That sort of archive’s a valuable thing to have, one that few people thought to put together when they had the chance,” Ned said. “That deserves some reward.”

It was a good thing Lewis had all those things, because the boxes full of neatly stacked bottles of smokeless powder and carefully sealed packets of primers the man had brought weren’t going to be cheap. There was enough of both there to craft a lot of cartridges, anywhere in the area of ten thousand judging by Lewis’s hasty calculations. But Ned knew the value of his reloading supplies and wanted a good return on them.

“You can’t charge more than the reloaded bullets themselves would be worth,” Lewis protested, trying to talk him down.

“I can and I will, if the buyer’s desperate enough,” Ned replied with a grin. He abruptly scowled and turned towards his truck. “Hey! I said five people at a time! Paul!” The bodyguard hurried forward, along with a few of the defenders Trev had assigned to manage the crowd and keep townspeople browsing the goods to the limit the trader had set.

“I can and will break fingers if I see anyone stealing,” Paul rumbled. The Aspen Hill residents who’d tried to crowd the line to start their own shopping hastily retreated, hands up to show they were empty.

Ned turned back to Lewis. “Sorry. Like I was saying, this stuff’s got a serious demand and what you can make with it is worth its weight in gold.”

“Judging by your trade rates gold isn’t doing so well,” Lewis pointed out. “And it takes more than just powder and primer to make bullets.” His dad, who was along for the negotiation as a silent observer, snorted in amused agreement. It turned into a brief but deep cough.

The trader shrugged. “Maybe so. But without them you’ve just got shiny brass trinkets and hunks of jacketed lead.”

“If I can’t get the value of my time and all the other expenses I’ve put into this out of the reloaded bullets, there’s no point in doing it,” Lewis shot back. He had to admit he kind of enjoyed the bartering process. “I appreciate that you mainly came out here for this deal, but if it’s a bad one I have to walk away.”

There it was. Lewis was desperate to buy, but Ned would also be desperate to sell. He’d invested fuel to get here, and while he’d probably get a good return from the town and other buyers this was why he’d come.

“Don’t think I won’t walk away myself,” Ned warned. “Condoms and movies and gold coins would all be nice to have, but this stuff is hard to get your hands on and nobody on the continent is making it anymore. Unless of course Canada or Mexico or the occupying blockheads have a factory going somewhere. And if they do I doubt any of what they make is going to find its way to you.”

That was also a good point. “That might be true,” Lewis admitted. “But even if it’s a bad supply how’s the demand? Are you inundated by buyers trying to get their hands on a product that requires specialized tools and other materials to even get any use out of?”

“Yes. The military. But I thought I’d give the little guy a shot at my wares first.” Ned sighed. “Look, kid. You’re sharp, but neither of us is going to walk away from this deal happy. Just like any good deal. I can walk the price down a little, but I offered a reasonable trade to begin with.”

Lewis kept up the pressure, and the trader stubbornly pushed back, but in the end he was satisfied by how much he got the man to lower the cost. He ran home to gather up the agreed upon trade goods, and couldn’t fully conceal his satisfaction as they made the exchange and he hefted the boxes of materials he’d been trying to get for so long.

Under 60 pounds, he guessed. It felt like it should weigh more, take up more space, considering the massive amount of value he was going to get out of what he held.

He was in business.

“No buyer’s remorse now, hear?” Ned said, clapping his shoulder.

“No, now that the deal’s made I’d say it was pretty fair,” Lewis admitted. “If you have more of this I might be in touch sometime in the future, depending on how my luck goes.”

“I might. And if I’m around this way again I’ll look you up.” The trader grimaced and glanced towards his truck. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get things squared with Mayor Pennypincher over there. The guy haggles like a used car salesman.”

Lewis couldn’t help but grin. “Probably because he was, at one point.”

“That explains it. If you thought you dug in like a badger for the best price…” As Ned walked off Lewis heard him grumbling loudly to himself. “You’d think that junk he laughingly calls firearms were made of solid gold and shot diamonds. And what good am I even going to get out of them when he’s buying up all my ammo?”

Once he was gone Lucas took one of the boxes and did his own hefting as he inspected it. “Congratulations, son.”

“Thanks.” Lewis shifted things around long enough to pull his dad into a one-armed hug. “However you managed to set up this deal, it means a ton.”

His dad paused for a couple deep coughs into his elbow, then handed the box back and examined what remained of their reduced supply of precious metals. “I guess I’ll get in line for browsing. There’s a few other things I saw that I might be able to trade for.”

“Good luck.” Lewis went in search of Trev, eager to get started with the reloading after so long planning and searching for what he needed.

His cousin was shaking hands with Ned’s bodyguard and pocketing something small enough to fit in his closed fist. As Lewis approached Trev turned and grinned. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A whole lot of it,” Lewis agreed, grinning back. “Ready to make some bullets?”

“Sure, I guess.” Trev glanced over at Deb, who was standing with April, Aunt Clair, and a few other women from the shelter group. “Let me go tell my girlfriend that her boyfriend’s no fun and wants to spend the day playing with toxic metals and propellants instead of shopping.”

That was another thing to be pleased about. Whatever issues Trev and the brown-haired woman had been dealing with hadn’t gone away, but things seemed better between them. They were obviously getting more serious and finally willing to formally acknowledge their relationship, if still noticeably shy on intimacy.

He clapped his cousin on the back. “Just tell her you’ll give her some ammo as a gift to make up for it. Bullets are a girl’s best friend.”

For some reason Trev gave a surprised start and absently patted his pocket as if checking for his recent purchase. “I thought diamonds were.”

It didn’t take much for Lewis to put the pieces together there. Probably a good thing he was holding these boxes so he couldn’t put his head in his hands. “You didn’t.”

Trev hunched his shoulders. “I know it’s a grossly unnecessary luxury,” he admitted in a low voice, obviously not wanting Deb to hear. “But it was a decent price and I want to do this right.”

Lewis sighed. “Well it’s your business. I can try to appraise it for you if you want, or we can find someone who can.”

“You think Ned cheated me?”

“No. But it never hurts to be cautious.”

His cousin gave him a doubtful nod, obviously experiencing buyer’s remorse. Lewis felt a bit bad about that. “Just give me a second.”

He watched as Trev went over and quietly spoke to Deb. As his cousin spoke the brown-haired woman nodded and grinned over at Lewis, giving him a congratulatory thumbs up. In just a moment Trev came trotting back over. “Okay, good to go. Unless you want to buy something else?”

Lewis hesitated, then shook his head. “Nah. Nothing there I really need more than what I’d have to trade to get it. Most of what looks interesting Matt’s already snatched up for the town.”

“True. Besides,” Trev said as he hooked an elbow around Lewis’s neck, starting them back towards the Halsson cabin, “once we start making serious money off this we can trade for stuff whenever we want, with something everyone will be willing to trade for.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Lewis led the way to his room, where he’d already set up his reloading station and spent a bit of time making all the preparations he could without these final materials. Now that he had them he was ready to jump in with both feet.

“Wow, and I thought my room was cramped with the new bed,” Trev said, squeezing around the carefully laid out equipment. “Jane doesn’t mind having this in here?”

“I asked her and she barely seemed aware that the limited space was an inconvenience.” Lewis began running his cousin through a tour of the space, even though he’d already shown Trev all the equipment on a previous occasion, then began a rundown on the process of reloading cartridges.

As Trev listened he poked through the bins where Lewis and Jane had neatly sorted all the empty casings by caliber. Lewis trailed off when he noticed his cousin’s attention settling on the smallest bin, with less than a hundred casings that were quite a bit bigger than the 5.56. Lewis joined him in front of it and picked up a handful.

“You only have this many .308 shells?” Trev asked.

“Yeah.” Lewis frowned as he rolled the light casings across his palm. “I should’ve been saving the brass all along, but I only started about when I decided to get into reloading. Horrible lack of foresight on my part. I’ve only got those to work with.” He lowered his voice. “And I’m down to my last 100 bullets, too. Jane has less than 50 herself. The town storehouse is also getting low on that caliber. We’re seriously talking about switching to the AK-47s we got from the blockheads.”

That made his cousin start with surprise. “150? You had so much starting out! And didn’t you get some more from the raiders?”

Lewis smiled humorlessly. “You use up a lot more ammo in combat than with hunting, and we’ve done a lot of fighting this year.” He jiggled the shells in his hand. “Jane’s already agreed to switch to the AK and let me have the rest of what we’ve got. She insists that since my G3 is the better gun, I’m more familiar with it, and I’m a better shot with .308 anyway, it makes sense. That’ll give me a little bit longer before I have to swap too.”

He looked up and shrugged, putting the shells back in their box. “But you never know. Maybe I’ll get a chance to trade. Or maybe I can keep up the reloading fast enough that we’ll both be able to have enough when we need it. Assuming the shells don’t inevitably get damaged, or wear down to the point they can’t be reused.”

Trev nodded. “It’s a shame, though. Your .308s are like his and hers weapons for you and Jane. People might not realize you’re a couple without the familiar fixtures.”

Lewis snorted in amusement. “Well at least we’ve got plenty of 7.62 shells. You’ll have plenty of reloaded bullets for your rifles.”

“Silver linings, eh?” his cousin said wryly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

“Right. I’ve read up on all this and watched videos, but like with so many things I haven’t actually done it. We’ll need to figure some of it out no matter how good the instructions are. And with something like this it’s really important we do it right.”

Trev nodded emphatically. “You got that right.”

Lewis returned the nod, thinking of the times his gun had misfired, sometimes near disastrously in combat situations. He guided Trev over to the bench, where they broke open the boxes of propellant and primers and got to work.

* * *

Before the Gulf burned a truck would deliver some or all of its shipment, the delivery almost always paid in advance electronically, and then it would continue on to its next stop or return to pick up another shipment for the next delivery.

But when Ned packed up to drive off, after hours of festival-like browsing, haggling, and exchanging goods, his truck was just as full as it had been starting out. If not more.

“Money definitely makes merchanting easier,” the trader said as he finalized the few major trades the town had made and watched his payment in goods being loaded up. “It’s a lot easier to sell high, pocket the profit, buy low and fill your truck with another load of cheap goods to sell high elsewhere, then rinse, repeat and watch your wallet get thicker and thicker.”

Matt could see that. It was a wonder the man was making any sort of profit at all with exchanged goods. Although he had picked up precious metals and jewelry from some townspeople in trade, as well as other valuable commodities that were smaller, lighter, and easier to store. “Does the business work like this?” he asked.

Ned grinned. “As a merchant it’s my duty after every deal to whine that I’ve literally been robbed and my family will starve in the streets. But to be honest I do okay. Enough to justify the time and fuel, and then some.”

“Seems a bit precarious. One highway robbery and all your hard work goes to pieces.”

The trader shrugged. “Welcome to life. That’s why I stick to the roads the military has confirmed are safe and under their protection, and only visit properly vetted locations with a good reputation. And in the event I do run into trouble Paul has his shotgun, and I’ve got a surprise stowed with all the other junk in the cab.” He paused, as if waiting for Matt to ask what, then continued anyway. “By which I mean my trusty SMAW.”

Matt blinked. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Rocket launcher,” the man clarified. “Most threats tend to vanish when you point something like that at them.” He grinned. “They’d definitely vanish if I fired a rocket off, vanish in an explosion that is, although I haven’t had to waste one actually blowing anything up yet.”

Hard to argue with that. Matt extended his hand. “Well hopefully you never have to. But if your route brings you back this way you’re always welcome, and we’ll try to make it worth your while.”

“Can’t ask for more than that.” Ned returned the handshake, then the two of them got back to overseeing loading the trade goods and packing everything up for him to drive on.

Matt’s offer was sincere. The trader’s prices had been steep and he’d haggled ferociously, so the town’s new acquisitions were costly. But they were also things Aspen Hill really needed, which they couldn’t have gotten any other way. Matt was satisfied with how things had gone. He just hoped Lewis and the others who’d wanted their own chance at the offered goods weren’t too miffed that he’d claimed them for the town.

Either way winter was looking a bit less bleak now.

Chapter Sixteen

Birthday

The temperature continued to plummet over the next week.

They started seeing frost in the windows some mornings, which meant snows could come any day. Snows weren’t unheard of for mid-October, especially at their slightly higher elevation, although they were very rare. But not this year, everyone expected, and with this cold most agreed that once they came they’d probably stick around for the rest of the winter.

Which could last for seven months, or even longer. Nuclear winter was hard to predict, especially on the scale they were looking at after the Retaliation, but the one thing they could all be sure of was that it was going to be brutal. The cold people scrambled to prepare for now would only get worse, and sub-zero temperatures were pretty much a given.

Among the other preparations Trev made was winterizing his beehives. He wasn’t sure how the little guys would manage a winter like this, or even if they could. It seemed like they’d been doing their own scrambling to gather honey to prepare, and his mom and Lewis both agreed they’d produced more than usual.

There was a brief argument about harvesting the honey now and letting the hive die, since they weren’t sure they could keep it alive through the winter anyway. But since their food situation wasn’t desperate and keeping the hive long-term was still a goal, they agreed to do their best to help it through til spring. Besides, they all liked bees, and none of them enjoyed the thought of killing off the little critters even if it was pragmatic. Especially Jim and Linda.

The cold seemed to have shaken everyone up. Matt’s community projects like building shelters were put on hold as everyone concentrated on their own situation. Trev spent most of the next week dividing his time between helping Lewis gather fodder for the shelter group’s animals as well as his own promised kid doe, hunting and gathering and preserving all the food they could, and chopping firewood and gathering deadfall.

Everyone who could helped out, even the young kids like Terry and April’s boys and the children from Jane’s group. They gathered up armfuls of cut meadow grass, picked up sticks, searched for edible plants, and were handy to run errands and deliver messages.

Mary’s birthday was October 10th, a week after Ned’s visit. The family had planned a subdued party for her, recognizing that turning 18 was an important milestone even with the world the way it was. But to prevent the party from being too big a distraction from their work, the night before her birthday Lucas called everyone together in the Halsson cabin for a serious discussion about what the winter would mean and what they could do.

They’d talked about it almost nonstop for the last few months, of course, but it didn’t hurt to lay the situation out clearly.

Trev sat with Linda and Jim on Mary’s cot, while his cousin shared her parents’ bed with her mom, Trev’s mom, and Deb. The others were scattered around the room or seated on the floor, with Lucas occupying a comfortable chair near the stove.

His uncle’s cough had steadily worsened over the last week, going from occasional explosive bursts to sustained episodes that lasted a few seconds. Trev was a bit worried, and he knew everyone else was too, but Lucas had insisted that a cough was nothing to worry about unless he started seeing other symptoms. He was getting plenty of rest, at least, although Aunt Eva and Lewis had to constantly battle him on the issue when there was so much to do.

“I’ve got insights to offer, as I’m sure we all do,” Lucas began once everyone was settled. “But since we’ve got two people here who’ve actually lived through a pretty brutal winter I’ll turn things over to my son and nephew.”

Lewis nodded and stood. Trev had agreed his cousin should lead the discussion, and he’d chime in where necessary. Lewis opened his mouth to begin, then paused to wait patiently while Lucas coughed a few times in quick succession.

“Don’t mind me,” his uncle said when he was done, taking a sip of water. “Blasted cough’s turning into a real nuisance. Go ahead, son.”

“All right,” Lewis said quietly. He was obviously pushing down his worry to stay on topic. “We all know we’re facing a hard winter, but not an impossible one. Trev and I spent last winter up in the hideout, and given the difference in elevation and snowfall I’m guessing what we face down in this valley will be about as severe. We came through it all right, and there’s no reason the family can’t now. We can give you an idea of what to expect, and teach you some of the lessons we’ve learned.”

“Lesson one,” Trev cut in dryly. “Don’t expect to get out much. We’ll be facing snowdrifts deep enough to bury our house, and bitter cold temperatures. Don’t be surprised if you’re walking in snow up to your waist after a fresh snowfall, and any crust that forms afterwards will almost be worse, since it probably won’t hold your weight. Even with the option of bundling up enough to handle the cold, by the time we’re halfway through this winter most of us will prefer relieving ourselves in buckets to trudging twenty feet to use an icy cold outhouse.”

“Fantastic,” Linda muttered. “Thanks for sharing.”

Lewis gave the young woman a steady look. “If you have trouble even hearing about it, consider when you’ll have to live it. We’ll do the best we can to make things comfortable and allow for privacy, which is why we’ve built lean-tos against the back doors of both cabins, fitted with benches with holes to put the bucket beneath. We’ll use our proven trick of heating stones against the stove to carry out there when we need to use the space. With them the temperature should be tolerable, and while you’ll still have to bundle up and head outside to empty the bucket and clean it out, it’s better than doing your business in the cold.”

Linda pouted a bit at the mild rebuke, but subsided.

“And that’s just the first of the hard realities we have to face about what’s coming,” Trev said, motioning for Lewis to continue.

In his usual thorough, orderly fashion his cousin laid out ideas to make handling living in the cold more workable. Everything from priorities when it came to cold weather gear, what signs to look out for when it came to frostbite and other cold related medical issues, to storing, protecting, rationing, and cooking their food.

One of the biggest considerations outside of food was firewood. They’d gathered up a huge store, both from cut and split logs and from all the extra bark, wood chips, and other detritus left over from construction, and they continued to add to their woodpiles. Since they’d now been using the wood burning stoves for so long, they had a good idea of how much they needed to keep the fire burning consistently for long periods of time. Given that, they were confident they had enough to keep them going through even a winter that lasted more than half a year.

There was also the option that if the weather wasn’t too bitter they could head out and chop down more trees, although unseasoned wood didn’t burn very well so they might be better off gathering deadfall. That would be tough since most of the deadfall within miles of town had already been dragged in, but with sleds they could venture farther afield and might even have an easier time moving it.

But whatever the situation of their firewood, as a rule Lucas wanted them all to strike a balance of using just enough fuel to keep their cabins tolerable during the day, and if possible damping the stoves and relying on blankets and shared body heat at night. Even if they had enough wood to last them more comfortably, that fuel represented labor and the less they used the more time and energy they’d be able to put to other things long term.

“So don’t expect to be hanging out in shirtsleeves, even indoors,” his uncle finished wryly. “Either bundle up, stay under your blankets, or get used to hanging out a foot from the stove doing whatever work you can find to fill the hours.”

For Trev most of that work was going to be making bullets with Lewis. Now that his cousin had what he needed and they were all set to go, they’d be able to fill the winter months with a mindless, repetitive task where they were motivated to produce the best quality possible because lives could literally be on the line.

Trev could barely conceive of what those reloaded cartridges could mean for them. Lewis now had enough casings, powder, primers, and lead and jacketing material for thousands of rounds. Aside from their families never having to worry about running out of ammunition again, the profit they could make from selling the surplus should be enough to feed them through the next winter, if not longer.

And his cousin intended that to be only the beginning. While closing the deal with Ned he’d mentioned to the trader that he might keep an eye out for more reloading materials. If he managed to find any he’d always have a buyer in Aspen Hill willing to pay a fair price.

Lewis had even spoken more than once about his dream to ultimately open a large-scale bullet factory and become a major manufacturer. Trev wasn’t ready to think quite that long term yet, considering they were still barely past figuring out how to use the reloading equipment and had almost no practice at it.

Still, it was a good dream. Going from scrambling to survive in a post-Retaliation world to securing a prosperous future, not to mention greatly benefitting the town and the remnants of the US at large with what they produced. Most people were still at the point of scavenging what they needed, so anyone willing to go a step farther and actually make useful products would help get them all that much closer to restoring the society they’d known.

Trev thought of how many people he’d run into since the Gulf burned who’d become criminals and parasites and further added to the destruction. Almost everyone else was focused solely on survival and not on any serious rebuilding. People like his cousin who had the knowledge, ingenuity, and drive to push the advancement of society by leaps and bounds, assuming he was successful, were few and far between.

He felt lucky to be a part of it.

Although even though the reloading work would probably fill many of his waking hours, it didn’t have much to do with the business of staying alive through the winter.

Once he and Lewis had exhausted their knowledge and advice about winter in the mountains, everyone went around the room providing their own thoughts and concerns. Things like running ropes between shelter group houses so people would be able to find each other in a storm, digging tunnels to get from place to place once the snow got deep enough, and ways to vary the meals so people didn’t get sick of eating.

The conversation, solemn as it was, was also a good bonding opportunity for the family. After a few hours it became more relaxed, with more laughing and joking, at which point Lucas announced that they’d probably done as much good as they were going to here and called the meeting to a close. Most of the family stayed to chat after that, but Trev said goodnight to Deb and the others and joined Lewis and Jane in their room doing more reloading work.

Oddly enough the biggest concern with working long hours in winter was that the sunlight hours were going to be short, and often the light would be obscured by clouds, so solar lighting wouldn’t be an option for as long as they’d probably have use for it. Even the efficient LED Christmas lights drained the batteries when used for long enough, which meant using other electronics would soon be off the table, at least as much as they had been. They’d have to ration electricity, and try to make use of the windows and daylight as much as possible.

Since the three of them were still getting used to the intricacies of reloading the work was quiet as they all concentrated on their individual tasks. Trev was glad he had the manual dexterity to produce good work even before the experience of long practice made him adept at it, since they couldn’t afford to waste materials and every cartridge counted. Still, he made more than a few mistakes, and although Lewis and Jane were also making mistakes and they were all encouraging each other it was still frustrating.

They worked late, after everybody had gone to bed. And since they were working quietly they all pricked their ears when they heard whispering from the main room. Trev recognized the voices as Aunt Eva and Uncle Lucas.

“You’re doing it again, Dear,” his aunt said quietly.

He heard Lucas chuckle, which became a short bout of wheezing and a single explosive cough. “You’re going to have to be much more specific.”

She refused to relent to his banter. “You know what. Shouldering all the burden. Keeping your worries to yourself because you don’t want us to have to face them. It’s not what I signed up for.”

Trev exchanged uncomfortable looks with the other two. Either his aunt and uncle thought they were speaking quietly enough or they thought Trev had already gone home and Lewis and Jane were asleep. Still, it was awkward to overhear. Should he try to make a quiet escape without disturbing them?

His uncle sighed. “I’m not really keeping them to myself. They’re the same worries we’re all sharing, so it would be pointless to bring them up.”

“Do it anyway.”

There was a long pause. “The boys were optimistic, and I’m not discounting their knowledge. They’ve learned a lot that’s going to help us. But at the same time they’re very, very lucky. Things could’ve gone so wrong for them, and they wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.”

Eva made a disapproving sound. “You’re not giving them enough credit.”

Another sigh. “No, I’m giving them as much credit as I possibly could. That’s the problem. Last winter was harsh, and it killed a lot of unprepared people. But what we’re facing now? This is the type of winter that kills even the well prepared. Our son and nephew might be the best qualified people alive to survive what’s coming, and even they could still end up dead. All it takes is one thing going wrong, one disaster we didn’t see coming happening at the wrong time.”

“Then see them coming. There’s no one I know better at that than you. Something might go wrong. Tragedy might strike, God forbid. But if it does, at least we know it wasn’t because we didn’t do all we could to be ready for it.”

Lucas’s only answer was another coughing fit. When he stopped Eva’s voice was concerned. “The fits aren’t as bad right now. Try to get some sleep while you can. You haven’t been getting nearly enough. Or eating.”

“It’s not as bad as you make it sound,” his uncle replied firmly. “Once the coughing eases up I’ll be able to eat better and get more proper sleep.”

“Visit Terry and Dr. Langstrom again,” she insisted.

He chuckled, which turned into several seconds of wheezing he struggled to get under control. “They don’t have enough symptoms to work with, or any equipment to diagnose me. A simple cough could be too many things.”

“This cough is feeling less and less simple, Luke. I’m worried. Drinking lots of water doesn’t seem to be helping. Maybe we should have you try breathing steam.”

“Maybe. We can talk about it in the morning. Goodnight, Dear.”

A long pause. “Goodnight.”

After another exchange of uncomfortable looks Trev pulled on his coat and boots and nodded goodnight to Lewis and Jane. They nodded back, quietly shutting off the lights as he slipped out the door.

He could’ve done without hearing his normally confident uncle express doubts about their chances. And he was really worried about his cough. Sure, other people in town were coughing, sniffling, and suffering the other ailments that came with cold. And his uncle kept himself in good shape and had rarely been sick.

Still, he worried. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of the Halsson family was going through.

* * *

The day dawned very windy, with a noticeably higher temperature. Trev knew enough about weather to know that wasn’t a good sign.

“The warm before the storm,” his mom said as she handed him some jerky on his way out the door to do his chores.

“Rain, I hope,” Trev said. “Even facing nuclear winter and at a slightly higher elevation, it’s not even the middle of October and we usually don’t see snow until late December.”

“Well we can’t go with what we usually see, since this is the first time the world’s faced the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust, and even the best predictions might not be accurate.” His mom’s lips thinned in a worried line. “Although I’m hoping for rain, too. We’ve still got so much to do to prepare.”

He gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek. “Speaking of which, I’ll probably be out most of the day hunting and scouting good spots for firewood. See you at the party tonight.”

“Be careful,” she called reflexively as he closed the door.

Deb was already waiting nearby, equipped to head out as soon as they finished doing chores together, and he felt his mood lighten as he made his way over to her. She pulled him into a brief, somewhat hesitant hug, which he certainly enjoyed while it lasted.

“Ready to get started?” she asked.

He nodded. “The sooner the better. Not only do we have Mary’s party to get home to, but I don’t want to be caught out there if this storm blows in early.”

Chores were routine by now. The company was pleasant, at least, and they finished quickly. Then they grabbed their packs and set off to the southeast. This was a less traveled direction, and with a bit of a hike they could make their way down from the mountains into the foothills, where Trev hoped the game would be more plentiful. Those slopes were also densely overgrown with scrub oak, and they also brought along sacks to harvest as many acorns as possible.

That would be a priority whether or not they found any game, since acorn flour would make a decent stable once the tannins were properly leeched out.

It turned out to be a good thing they set out with that goal in mind, because hunting was a bust. Between the cold driving game down into the valley, the refugees who’d been tromping around the area scaring everything away, and the fact that Aspen Hill residents might’ve already overhunted the area, he didn’t see any good opportunities. Not even any critters or varmints worth putting in a pot.

On the other hand acorns were plentiful, to the point where it would probably be a good idea to talk to Matt about directing foragers this way. At the very least he was going to organize an expedition with as many members of the shelter group as possible to unleash their inner squirrel. This was something the older kids could do too, a way for them to be useful. But for now he and Deb filled their sacks to bulging and started home, backs hunched under the weight.

“Is it true your aunt baked a cake?” she asked as they toiled up a slope, sweat streaming down their faces that was quickly swept away by the strong winds.

Trev smiled slightly. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The dark-haired woman gave him a level look. “Never joke around where cake is concerned. I might just have to stab you with my fork.”

“What would you do if I told you the cake was a li—”

“Don’t!” she snapped, although she was obviously trying not to smile. “That line’s been used to death.”

“Too bad the internet’s not around to give us any more fond memories.”

Deb’s smile finally broke free. “Maybe we could build our own little internet using string and all these acorn caps, like those telephones every kid’s made at some point.”

His own smile turned into a grin. “Okay we definitely need to get some cake in you, because that’s talking nuts.”

She groaned. “That was a pun worthy of Alvin.”

The climb turned too strenuous for banter at that point, but the silence was companionable as they continued. As they got closer to town they waved a greeting to the defender on sentry duty and got a wave in return. Trev stopped in to chat with the man, mostly to help relieve his boredom after long hours standing watch, before they continued on.

Soon they were home, and it was party time.

Knowing Mary’s personality, the family had settled on a smaller get-together with just family and friends. Mostly the shelter group, the Tillmans, and the Watsons. Even that small gathering was intended to be short, and then the extended family would retire for a more relaxed evening watching a movie and playing games Mary enjoyed.

There was in fact a large sheet cake Aunt Eva had made, but to Deb’s disappointment with so many people everyone was limited to a small square. It was a simple yellow mix made with fresh eggs and topped with canned frosting, but after so long eating scavenged greens, venison, basic staples, and stale store food it was delicious.

Mary was the oblique center of attention, everyone congratulating her and wishing her well but not crowding her. She seemed to enjoy the attention in small doses from people she was fond of.

Although there were others drawing clumps of conversation. One of them was Sam, seated in a chair to avoid exerting herself. Everyone knew she was only weeks from her due date and might go into labor at any moment, and people kept dropping by to talk about it.

One of those was Scott Tillman as his family arrived. While his wife and daughter were still wishing Mary a happy Birthday, little Jen shyly holding up the family’s present for the young woman, the man came over smiling broadly. “There’s the expecting couple!” he called, shaking Matt’s hand and leaning down to give Sam a hug. “Enjoying the party?”

“Aside from wishing for a bigger piece of cake,” Matt replied. Sam elbowed him lightly in the side, and he said. “By which I mean it’s the perfect size and Mrs. Halsson is amazing for making it.”

“I look forward to even a mouthful,” the older man replied, chuckling. He nodded to Trev and the others standing nearby, then glanced down at Sam again. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good right now,” Sam replied, sharing an amused look with Matt. Trev had been there long enough to get their amusement. The concern was sincere, and he was sure it was appreciated, but that was also the first thing everyone asked her. But on the plus side, at least Scott wasn’t asking-

“So have you picked a name yet?”

-that. Deb snorted, and Trev bit back a smile, and Matt exchanged another amused look with his wife as he answered. “For a boy we’re torn between Hubert and Sir Awesome. For a girl we’re thinking either Bird of Paradise or Princess Penelope.”

Sam jabbed his ribs again. “Matt!” She gave Scott an apologetic look. “If it’s a boy we’ve settled on Edward Jonathan Larson. Give him both his grandfathers’ names. If it’s a girl we were thinking Chloe Olivia or Olivia Chloe.”

“She wanted Olivia, I wanted Chloe, so we decided to use both,” Matt supplied. “We’re still trying to decide the order.”

Catherine, Tam, and Jen joined the group then, leading to another round of the same questions and more quiet amusement from everyone watching. Then Lucas, clearing his throat leading to coughing a few times, announced. “Thank you to everyone who brought parents. Mary is ready to open them now, and then we’ll sing the birthday song and have cake.”

At that everyone gathered around Mary, who didn’t seem to mind as long as she had presents to focus on. Few of them were wrapped or even had tags, and friends and family volunteered which one was theirs as she picked each up and inspected it.

They were mostly small things from family, either useful or homemade and decorative. Lewis had a pack of toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste for her, while Jane gave her floss and mouthwash. “Not that we’re implying anything,” her brother said to chuckles from everyone;  basic toiletries were getting harder to come by, and all the more treasured for it. In the same vein her parents hadn’t advertised their own gift, which were feminine hygiene products purchased from the visiting trader. Those had been surprisingly costly, due to unsurprisingly high demand.

Jim had carved her a small but surprisingly well done wooden cat, curled up with its tail over its nose. Linda gave her an assortment of scrunchies and clips for her hair. Trev’s mom gave her a set of beeswax candles while his dad gave her a small pillow stuffed with wool. The Watson family gave her a padded footstool they’d upholstered with hide from one of their goats. The Tillman family gave her a ski mask and goggles for the coming bitter cold. The Larsons gave her a glass cube with a 3D image of a rose inside. Deb gave her one of those little multitools with the scissors, nail file, and penknife.

As for Trev, Mary had mentioned a couple times that she wanted to try archery as opposed to learning to shoot, mostly because she never intended to use it and didn’t want to waste their ammo. So he’d cleaned up one of the crossbows they’d gotten from the bandits, as well as a dozen arrows, and with Lewis’s help had done maintenance on it so it was in good shape.

All in all a pretty good haul, although this was a big milestone for the young woman. As Linda less than subtly pointed out while everyone was enjoying their cake.

“So come on, let’s hear it,” Trev’s sister said, voice teasing as she tapped her older cousin’s shoulder.

Mary blushed, guessing she was about to be put on the spot. “Hear what?” she asked, then broke out into nervous humming.

“Come on cuz, you’re 18! Time to settle down with one of your many admirers and start ringing the wedding bells. Which one were you thinking of?”

Trev winced at his sister’s bluntness, especially when Mary blushed even deeper scarlet and wailed, “Lind!” Their cousin’s eyes frantically darted among the small crowd, although she looked reassured that everyone seemed to be focused on their cake, politely pretending they weren’t paying attention to the embarrassing exchange.

Linda looked around too, and her brow furrowed. “Speaking of which, where’s Raul?” She rolled the “R” in an exaggerated fashion. “Didn’t you invite your boyfriend?”

Mary’s embarrassment faded to concern. “I’m not sure if, I mean, we haven’t really…” She sighed. “I invited him, but he didn’t come. It’s no big deal.”

Trev was a bit bothered by that, since it obviously was. At the first opening he politely pulled his cousin aside. “Any idea why he didn’t come? I thought things were going well.”

“They were, kind of.” She gave him a miserable look. “One moment I think he likes me, the next it’s like he’s trying to avoid me.”

“I could go talk to him and see what’s up,” Trev offered.

The blond young woman looked mortified. “Don’t!” Then, hesitating, she said. “Or maybe do. Just, um, don’t put him on the spot. I’m worried about him, but I don’t want to make him feel guilty. He probably had a good reason not to come.”

He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll go as a friend, not a snoop.”

It wasn’t far to Gutierrez’s cabin, which was a bit back from any of the main lanes between houses. In fact, everything about the structure seemed intended to avoid notice. Was that due to the man’s training and mindset as a soldier, or his personality? Both?

He knocked on the door, and after a moment it cracked open. Unable to get a stove Gutierrez had built a small fireplace, and the subdued flames were enough to dimly light the interior.

“I figured I’d be getting a visit,” the former soldier said. He stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Trev ducked through the doorway. Gutierrez’s cabin was small with a low roof, half buried and well bermed with dirt. It had been built for efficiency, not comfort, which fit the man’s nature. Although two people could live here without crowding if needed. The bed was a scavenged full mattress on a board laid across five carefully leveled stumps, a few odds and ends stuffed underneath.

Raul himself didn’t look fantastic. He was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, and even indoors he wore his pistol and had his rifle leaning next to the door.

“Mary was a bit worried,” Trev admitted. “I heard she invited you to her party.”

“Yeah.” Gutierrez looked away. “I had a deal with Brandon to keep an eye on each other’s houses when we had to leave. I’ve been a bit paranoid going anywhere without him watching the place.”

That was a valid excuse, although since the man had been making his shifts on patrol duty he must have some other arrangement going. Not to mention he stored all his food in the town storehouse for free thanks to his service with the defenders, so there wasn’t much here worth stealing.

Trev decided to just bite the bullet. “Are you okay, man?”

Gutierrez snorted. “I must not be, since it’s the first thing everyone keeps asking me.” Trev decided to wait instead of answering, and his friend sighed and sank down onto his bed. After an uncomfortably long period of awkward silence he spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorting through things, that’s all. It’s taking me a while.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” The former soldier snapped out his answer almost before Trev finished the question.

“Okay.” Trev tried not to fidget. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Just keep me working defending the town.” Gutierrez glanced up at him, then back down to the floor. “I’m glad I have you as a friend. Although I could do without the constant digging into my business.”

“Sure.” It was hard to keep going, but he felt obligated to as reluctant go-between. “Anything I should tell Mary?”

His friend flinched and didn’t look up this time. “Sure. Tell her she’d be better off with someone else.”

“BS,” Trev snapped, almost reflexively. It sort of pissed him off that his friend was tearing himself down like this. “You’re one of the best men I know, whatever issues you’re dealing with.”

The former soldier sighed. “A relationship’s not happening right now, man. I don’t want to lock her down until I can make it work, if I ever could. Let me do her a favor by not wasting any more of her time.”

“Don’t you think you should at least talk this through with her and give her a chance to say her piece?” Trev asked.

“No I don’t, actually. It’s selfish to let someone do something that’s bad for them, even if it’s what they want. I don’t want to be her De—” Gutierrez abruptly cut off, shooting Trev an almost guilty look, and continued stubbornly. “Just tell her.”

Had the guy seriously been about to say what Trev thought he was? Fighting down genuine anger, he nodded. “I’m around if you need me.” He opened the door and started to leave, then couldn’t help himself and turned back. “You know, you can depend on someone, accept their help, without being a burden on them.”

Gutierrez laughed softly. “No you can’t. If the other person’s willing to bear that burden that’s their own business, and there are definitely things that make it worth the sacrifice. But don’t pretend it doesn’t take its toll. Haven’t you noticed that you’ve been bungling your duties while dealing with all your personal issues? Never seriously, but consistently.”

Trev sucked in a breath. That hit a bit too close to the mark, because it wasn’t completely wrong. “We’re all a bit messed up, Raul. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of the most honorable and dependable people I know. Don’t beat yourself up over something that isn’t true about you, or let it keep you from being with someone who makes you happy. Remember you can make her happy, too.”

His friend’s lack of response held an unmistakeable tinge of disbelief. After a short wait Trev left and closed the door behind him.

The party was breaking up when he got back, people offering Mary their final farewells and birthday wishes. The evening was turning cold, the fierce winds that had been blowing all day gusting even wilder, and everyone seemed eager to get indoors. Mary looked a bit disappointed that Gutierrez wasn’t with him, and Trev guessed her invitation to the former soldier had extended to the family’s movie and game time as well.

He felt bad for her, and couldn’t bring himself to repeat the man’s message on her birthday. Although there wouldn’t really be any good time for it. Still, it was something that could be saved for morning. So he tried to deflect her questions as Lewis set up the projector and they all settled in to watch.

Chapter Seventeen

Storm

Yesterday’s wind was still going strong when Matt ducked outside to start his morning chores.

This early in the morning it was more than just unpleasant, the windchill making the already cold temperature truly bitter. Matt tucked up his collar and pulled his stocking cap down a bit lower, wondering if he should go back inside for a scarf or balaclava. Then he glanced up at the dark gray sky and decided he should get as much work as he could done before the snows flew, which he was certain would be soon.

Before he could get started he spied an elderly but spry gentleman entering the Larson family’s crudely staked out yard, and he switched directions to go greet the man. “Jack! What brings you around to this part of town?” he asked, offering his hand.

Jack Dawson returned his handshake with a grin. “Oh, just stopping by to see if the girls are still being productive.”

By “the girls” the old man meant the laying hens he’d sold to the shelter group, before the blockheads arrived to besiege the military and the civilians in the Utah Rockies. Jack had offered a generous price for the layers, but that wasn’t the beginning of his generosity.

Before the Gulf burned Jack had owned a sizable chunk of land southwest of Aspen Hill. A longtime widower in his 70s, he’d lived alone on his property watching after it, largely sustained by the flock of chickens and other fowl he kept. From what Matt could tell, the nation running out of fuel hadn’t changed much about the old man’s situation, aside from depriving him of electricity, internet, and television.

During Ferris and his FETF soldiers’ occupation of the town last fall, Matt had been foraging near Jack’s property when the old man confronted him as a potential trespasser. But once Jack recognized Matt he warmed up considerably, since Matt’s mom had been regularly bringing him meals for years. Partly in gratitude for that, and partly out of sympathy for the Larson family’s plight, Jack had given Matt one of his layers, which Sam had affectionately named Henrietta.

A single egg a day among eight people didn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but over the winter it had added up to a lot of needed protein, and had likely literally been a lifesaver. Which was why once the family had started to do well, with the aid of the Smiths, Halssons, and the rest of the shelter group, one of the first things they’d decided to do was buy more layers from Jack, who was only too happy to sell.

In a suffering town there’d been a few families that had managed to squeak through without too much suffering. Jack was probably the most prosperous of those, with spare food in the form of eggs and poultry to trade for any necessities he didn’t have. When the town founded new Aspen Hill in the valley his cabin had been one of the first built, men eagerly lining up for the opportunity to work for food. Matt knew the man had also made some solid purchases from Ned when the trader came around.

“Very productive,” Matt said. “Mrs. Halsson used some of the eggs to bake a cake yesterday.” He felt a sudden surge of guilt. “We should’ve invited you.”

Jack waved that off. “Bah, never was much for parties.” He was momentarily interrupted by a particularly harsh blast of wind, and shivered slightly as he glanced up at the sky. “I’ve been in this area a long time,” he said grimly. “I’ll admit, I’m not as familiar with things up here in the mountains, but even so this weather feels off. I’m afraid the storm that’s blowing in is going to be a bad one.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Matt agreed. “Speaking of which, I should probably get my chores done. Why don’t you head inside and warm up a bit? Mom usually makes a pot of herb tea or hot chocolate these mornings.”

“I might just do that.” Jack shook his hand again, then headed towards the distinctively shaped Larson cabin. Matt hurried on to the town barn to deal with his livestock and check on things.

By the time he came out snow had started falling.

It was already a thick flurry, and getting thicker by the second. For a moment Matt stood staring up at the mountains to the west, which were mostly obscured by the storm that had finally arrived. Cold wisps lightly touched his face as the flakes swirled around him, soon becoming trails of chilly water trickling down his cheeks.

He wasn’t the only one out in the storm. In spite of the howling wind and swirling flakes falling thicker by the second, the streets of the town were soon flooded as the people of new Aspen Hill emerged to watch the first snow of the year. In the middle of October.

Among the crowd Matt was surprised to see Sam trudging his way against the wind, already building up quite a layer of snow on her clothes. As close to childbirth as she was, combined with her petite height and the coat, hat, and scarves she’d bundled up in, she was so round that with every step she looked like she’d fall over from sheer awkwardness. But beneath all the layers wrapped around her mouth and nose, he could see her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled.

It constantly amazed him how cute she was. He just wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. So he did, reaching her with long strides to hug that bundle of warm clothing and very pregnant wife.

“Should you be out in this?” he asked.

“Probably not,” she admitted cheerfully. “But it’s crowded in the cabin and it stinks. Besides, Dr. Maggy wanted me to get fresh air.”

“Maybe not when it’s below freezing in the middle of a snowstorm.” He kissed the scarf about where her mouth should be. “Where were you headed? I’ll walk with you.”

She shrugged. “Just wanted to be here with you to see this.” She fumbled at her waist and produced a canteen. “Also I figured I’d make sure you were getting enough water.” To suit her words she popped the top and tugged her scarf down to take several gulps, then offered it to him.

Matt waved it away. “Thanks, I’m good.”

“You sure?” she asked. “I’ve heard in the cold you don’t always know you’re thirsty, so it’s important to drink even when you don’t think you need to.”

“Okay, Mom,” he said wryly. But he accepted the canteen and took a few gulps himself. His throat had been a bit dry.

Together they ambled back towards their house, the ground already sporting a thin layer of white underfoot. With so many people out in force he almost would’ve thought it was a celebration, but the mood was anything but celebratory. Even the young children, who normally would’ve been happily waiting for the snow to get deep enough to play in, sensed the mood of their parents and huddled close to them in wide-eyed silence. The adults were equally quiet, the only sound the howling wind carrying the beginning of nuclear winter to their town.

Matt shivered, and from more than just the cold.

Sam, huddled against his side, felt it and shivered as well, burying her face in his chest against the bitter wind. “Is it too late to go south?” she asked in a small voice, trying to sound flippant and failing.

Before he could answer a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. He turned to see his dad beckoning. “Come on,” he said gravely. “There’s a few last things we should do to prepare to ride out this storm before it gets too bad.”

Matt nodded. “Give me a second to swing by town hall. There’s probably things I’ll need to do to help prepare the town for this as well.”

His dad nodded. “We’ll manage.” He offered his arm to Sam, who stood on tiptoes to give Matt a quick kiss through her scarf before taking it.

Matt watched the two trudge away for a few moments before hurrying to town hall. Chauncey was already there handling a dozen or so townspeople, who were all clamoring about help they desperately needed to survive the storm if it lasted for days.

With a sigh Matt stepped in to help organize the chaos, offering help where people needed it and being firm with those he was pretty sure didn’t.

Meanwhile the tent, even made of thick canvas as it was, just wasn’t up to keeping out the chill. They’d been in the process of building a more permanent town hall to house the radio equipment and provide a headquarters that would keep out the cold, but unfortunately it was only half finished and the snows had already arrived. They’d probably have to move all this into the clinic for now and be resigned to having that serve as town hall for the winter.

Just another thing to get done, although aside from protecting the sensitive radio equipment the rest probably wasn’t urgent enough to warrant handling in the middle of a storm. Especially when there was already enough to do, and no telling what they’d be able to get done before conditions became bad enough to drive them inside.

Sighing, Matt got to work.

* * *

Trev spent most of the morning with the defenders helping Matt handle a few emergencies, as the snow piled up to a few inches with no sign of letting up.

Even with all the time everyone had been given to prepare, and the constant warnings to do so because this winter was going to be a brutal one, somehow there were still dozens of people who needed immediate help just to survive the storm. There were even more who’d be in trouble if the intense cold stuck around for more than a week, which it showed every indication of doing.

So they worked outside for hours huddled against frigid, blasting wind, snow piling on them and sneaking into collars and up sleeves. They chinked cracks in walls with cold slimy mud that constantly threatened to freeze, shored up and fireproofed fireplaces so they wouldn’t burn down the house when used or vent improperly and fill the space with smoke, made hasty repairs to leaks in roofs, distributed warm clothing from the town’s supply to people who would freeze to death without it, and half a dozen other vital tasks that should’ve been taken care of weeks ago.

When Trev finally stomped into his room he was half frozen and exhausted from constant shivering and hard work. He wanted nothing more than to heat some water to wash up, get a hot meal if his mom had one ready, then huddle under his warm blankets and sleep through the storm.

It turned out Deb was already there comfy and cozy in his bed, reading a book.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically. “Your mom invited me to spend the morning helping her make enough soup to last us a few days. She sent me next door to bring Lucas some, and by the time I got back I decided I didn’t want to go out there again. If you’re okay with it I think I’ll wait the storm out with you.”

“I’d love the company,” Trev said sincerely. They had the ropes up between shelter group cabins so Deb could conceivably go home at any time, even in this weather. But before too long the snow would be bad enough and the snow deep enough to make it risky and impractical. Which meant she was trapped here until things cleared up.

And to be fair, Trev didn’t think either of them minded the excuse to spend more time together. He could admit he was only human, and it was sometimes frustrating having his girlfriend around so much of the time when he had to walk on eggshells when it came to intimacy. But during the increasingly frequent times she did stay over for the night he found it soothing to be able to listen to her quiet breathing, if not quite so much her occasional snores.

She’d hinted she felt the same, including a share of her own frustration about not being able to enjoy the unreserved affection she wanted to with him. They both hoped they’d get there eventually, and sooner rather than later.

In the meantime it looked as if he’d be getting out the cot again.

As he peeled out of his wet, muddy outer clothes, still shivering, Deb disappeared into the main room and returned half a minute later with a bowl of steaming soup in hand. “I’ve got some water heating so you can wash up,” she said as she handed it over.

“You’re the best,” Trev said with feeling. He could’ve married her on the spot as he lowered his face to breathe in the fragrant steam and he settled onto the room’s single chair. It was definitely too hot to eat at the moment, almost too hot to touch with his chilled hands, but just holding it revived him a bit.

As he ate Deb snuggled back under the covers on his bed, keeping him engaged asking him what he’d spent the morning doing. Once he finished eating she took his bowl and returned with a cloth, a bar of soap, and a pail of water, which was almost too hot to be comfortable. Then she excused herself to the main room while he bathed.

Trev came out a few minutes later wearing clean, dry clothes, refreshed and warmed up and deciding Deb was the best roommate ever and he was seriously in love with her. She was sitting with Linda playing some game that involved clapping hands, but when he went to grab a spare cot she joined him and helped make it up with sheets and blankets.

After that they settled down in comfortable silence.

“Sooo…” Trev finally said after the silence had stretched on for a few minutes. Deb was burrowed beneath the blankets again, holding her book but not reading it. “Should I break out a deck of cards?”

For some reason the brown-haired woman found that funny, bursting out laughing as she sat up. “I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of pregnancies this winter.”

Trev blinked at the out of the blue change of subject. “That would be crazy. People are going to be going hungry as it is.” She only laughed harder. “Why?”

Her laughter trailed off and she gave him a “You’ve got to be kidding me” look, as if it was obvious. Trev thought about it for a moment, then felt his face flush with embarrassment.

Right. Long months confined indoors, with not much to do to stave off the crushing boredom. Of course people with that option would turn to the oldest pastime in existence. Even if it wasn’t the most practical thing to do during the harshest winter they’d ever faced, and could even be considered shortsighted. He doubted many people had a stock of contraceptives like Lewis had prepared.

It was an uncomfortable thing to think about under the circumstances, alone in his room with his cute girlfriend and nowhere to go, potentially for days. Especially since she wasn’t ready for that to be an option yet.

Trev cleared his throat. “I’ll get the cards.”

After the intense morning, and all the intense mornings, afternoons, and evenings of the previous weeks and months, it was almost relaxing to be trapped in by a storm with relatively little to do. He remembered plenty of days like this wintering at the hideout with Lewis last year, although then their main enemy had been boredom and he’d spent more than a little time wishing he had other people to talk to. Especially girls.

This winter that wouldn’t be a problem. He had his family around him, and Deb, and when the weather permitted the entire town was just outside.

After a while they wandered into the main room and socialized with the family, playing a few games and talking and just generally enjoying each other’s company. But eventually everyone else occupied themselves with their own individual activities, winding down towards sleep, and he and Deb made their way back into his room.

It was colder in there. The stovepipe going through did a lot of work, but the howling wind outside was picking up a frigid bite as night fell, and as carefully as he’d chinked the walls there were still enough tiny cracks and crevices to let in the chill, especially around the outer door.

That cold only got more noticeable as his mom damped the stove in the other room and the stovepipe slowly cooled down. His and Deb’s combined body heat wasn’t enough to make up the difference, and the cold air seeped up through the bottom of his cot even with the blankets.

Deb eventually noticed him shivering, although he tried to hide it, and looked a bit guilty since she was snug on his bed nestled in a cocoon with even more blankets. “You should get under here with me,” she offered, almost shyly.

Trev jolted as if he’d just stuck his finger in an electrical socket. “Huh?” He felt his face flushing. “Are you sure you…” he trailed off, not sure how to put it.

She smiled. “Well I wasn’t exactly thinking about that. But it is your room, and it’s not like people haven’t shared body heat in the winter since the dawn of time.” She bit her lip, slightly nervous. “Although it doesn’t have to not be that, either. If you’re okay with just keeping it to snuggling.”

Trev was more than okay with that. He brought his blankets over to add to the pile, burrowing in beside his girlfriend. It was much more warm and comfortable than the cot, and even more so after a few minutes when Deb hesitantly leaned against him, pulling at his arms to wrap around her middle.

This was completely new territory, and while he fully enjoyed it he was also more nervous than he’d ever been. His first date had nothing on his current tension, afraid the slightest movement would send her bolting like a startled deer. But she seemed perfectly comfortable, and he tried to ignore his own discomfort and nervousness and just enjoy being there with her.

“How are you doing?” he asked after maybe a half hour of just sitting there holding her in his arms in contented silence.

She made a mumbling noise, sounding almost sleepy, then looked up at him with dark green eyes flecked with brown. “I can’t describe this,” she said quietly. “It’s like it’s the first time I’ve really felt safe since… since before they took me.”

He held her a bit closer, warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with shared body heat. “Good.”

“It is good. Because of you.” Still holding his gaze, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, just for a moment. Trev was so shocked that she’d already pulled away before he even thought to kiss her back, and by then she’d sighed softly and settled her head back against his cheek. He was left still feeling the memory of her lips, trying to figure out what that had meant.

After about fifteen seconds she spoke again, voice playful. “Also after so long sleeping alone, even in a room with a bunch of other people with shared body heat, this warmth is heavenly. I could just sleep forever.”

No arguments there. Holding Deb was like hugging a soft furnace. Even beyond that, though, the simple human contact provided comfort he hadn’t even known he’d needed. He wasn’t tired yet, but he definitely wouldn’t mind holding her if she wanted to sleep forever. Or maybe just a little longer, before he let her settle in for the night and returned to his cot.

His short, narrow, uncomfortable, chilly cot.

Unfortunately since he was a living being with a pulse this enjoyable intimacy, combined with the memory of his first kiss with her and her previous conversation about winter pastimes, led to thoughts that didn’t have much to do with cuddling. He could stay like this forever, but it would be harder and harder to keep those thoughts in the back of his mind.

Which was all the more important he do for the future of his relationship with this woman who he’d loved for a long time now, in spite of all the complications. That meant he could either address what he was feeling or he should probably go back to his cot.

So of course he jumped the gun like an idiot. “Let’s get married, Deb.”

In his arms his girlfriend went from cuddly to stiff as a board in an instant. She pulled away as much as the bed and the blankets they were under would allow, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “What?”

He immediately knew he’d made a mistake, with his timing if nothing else. He hadn’t even produced the ring, and he’d also been planning some sort of fancy dinner and candles and all that. But in for a penny… “I love you,” he said simply. “I want to be there for you. With you. Through anything life throws at us.”

Deb’s cheeks were flushed, but her breathing was a little too fast, like panic rather than excitement. “I love you too, of course. I have since the beginning, in a way.” She looked down, obviously uncomfortable. “I-I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

That was completely fair, and probably more than he deserved for proposing just minutes after their first kiss. Still, he felt a bit disappointed and even a little hurt as he nodded in understanding. “I get it. Sorry for just springing that on you like this.”

“No I’m sorry, for making this so hard on you. If we were a normal couple—” she broke off with an anguished noise and looked away, then abruptly wiggled free of the covers and grabbed her heavy coat, tugging it around her shoulders as she clumsily stepped into her oversized boots.

As Trev did his best to muddle through what had just happened, how catastrophically he seemed to have bungled things, she escaped through the door and yanked it shut behind her, boots untied and coat flapping in the wind. He didn’t even think about trying to stop her from going out into the foul weather outside until she was gone.

A flurry of snow carried on a blast of bitterly cold wind swirled through the room at even that short opening into the storm, twice as painful after the warmth. Trev shivered and pulled his blankets up around his chin. He was worried about Deb being able to get home in that, or catching a chill in the short time it took her to do so. But at least her cabin wasn’t far, and the rope leading to it was tied to the wall just outside the door.

So he settled back, feeling alone and unexpectedly cold. Deb had only been gone for a moment, so it should’ve been just as warm under the covers. But somehow it wasn’t.

* * *

Lewis had been worried about his dad’s coughing from the start.

Sure, with the onset of cold weather there’d been plenty of sniffles and coughs to go around, and they’d only get more common now that winter had begun in earnest. Most would be simple colds or other minor ailments, with mild symptoms that either went away quickly or lingered as barely more than an inconvenience.

But it had now been long enough that he was sure that wasn’t the case with his dad. It had been eight days since he’d first noticed his dad coughing, and it was getting worse and worse, going from dry hacking fits to intense episodes that often lasted more than ten seconds.

He hadn’t realized just how bad, though, since he was usually gone during the day and slept in a different room at night. The coughs he did hear were muffled by the walls, easier to ignore.

Now, though, with the storm swirling outside it was impossible not to see how often his dad coughed. He drank lots of water but barely ate, and even eating the soup brought over by Deb from Aunt Clair caused him to have another coughing fit after the first few slurps. Lewis knew that crackers and other dry foods could exacerbate a cough, but he didn’t think soup should be doing that.

And that night he learned his dad’s condition was even worse than that, as he coughed hour after hour through the night with no hint he was getting any sleep, any relief. Lewis was so worried he couldn’t sleep either, and he listened as his dad broke into fits every few minutes. There was no sign that this illness was sapping his dad’s strength, other than from the expected exhaustion of lack of sleep and proper food, but that cough that never went away…

This was serious. It went beyond bronchitis or some other mild to moderately severe ailment and into the territory of pneumonia or another much more serious condition.

Since Lewis couldn’t sleep he searched through the medical texts in his archives. He was aware of the danger of those without medical training trying diagnose an illness, only to settle on an incorrect one and make things worse or at the very least cause needless worry. But he wasn’t sure what else to do.

His research certainly did add to his worries. From the symptoms it seemed like his dad was either suffering from a severe form of bronchitis, or more likely from pneumonia or whooping cough. Those were serious even with access to modern medicine: without it they could be fatal.

On top of his worry came more than a little guilt. Lewis had stocked up a good supply of medicine on top of all the other preparations he’d made before the Gulf burned. That included antibiotics, which could be vital here if it was pneumonia or whooping cough rather than bronchitis. He’d had the means to potentially cure his dad’s condition, as well as ease his suffering.

But that medicine was gone. He hadn’t felt right about holding it back during the fight against the blockheads, when wounded volunteers urgently needed it in life and death situations. So he’d given out dose after dose, watching his supply dwindle, constantly debating with himself where he should draw the line and save some in case his family needed it. But his conscience never let him draw that line, and finally it was all gone.

His family had relied on him to look out for their interests, even if it meant refusing help to a friend. Sure, it was an impossible choice to make at the time, weighing someone’s immediate desperate need with his family’s potential need. And he’d secretly hoped he’d find another source for medicine, maybe aid from the military, or that they’d be able to go to a refugee camp that had doctors and medicine if the situation was desperate enough.

But now they were in the middle of a storm with travel nearly impossible, especially while transporting a sick person. And his dad was sick, seriously sick. And because of his earlier generosity Lewis he didn’t have what he needed to help him.

Was it possible to be selfish in his selflessness? Would it have been better to let the guilt of a friend’s suffering eat at him as long as it meant he’d still have what his family now needed? How did you even make that kind of choice?

The storm was still raging when he finally decided he’d had enough of sitting in bed listening to his dad cough. His phone was nearly out of battery and unlikely to be recharged, not when they had to worry about lighting this cabin and the Smith family’s with car batteries that themselves wouldn’t be recharged from the solar panels during a storm.

It showed the time as 5:07. Way too early to be waking up Terry or Dr. Langstrom, and likely their families in the process. He decided to wait until at least six, a slightly more reasonable hour.

That hour of waiting was agony, lasting an eternity with the time barely seeming to pass even though he waited as long as he could to check his phone, minutes at most. At 5:50 he carefully climbed out of bed. He was sure he woke up Jane, if she wasn’t already awake, but she said nothing as he pulled on his cold weather gear to the sound of his dad’s coughing in the other room. He eased open the outside door just enough to leave, stepping over more than a foot of drifted snow as he pulled it closed behind him.

Everything was white, the snow still falling in a wild flurry that reduced visibility to only a few feet in the light of his flashlight. His family’s house was between the Smiths and the Larsons, with ropes going to both as well as to Jane’s group’s cabin. He felt his way along the wall to the correct rope and held onto it as he hunched against the driving snow.

After almost a minute of quiet tapping a disheveled Matt came to the door, opening it a crack. “I need Terry,” Lewis said without preamble.

His friend flinched. “Your dad?” Lewis nodded grimly. “Just a second.” The door scraped shut.

After almost five minutes of waiting in the cold, wind burrowing through his clothes to chill him with alarming speed, the door opened and Terry and Matt trooped out, bundled up against the storm. “I’m sorry for bothering you so early,” he called over the wind, “but it’s getting really bad.”

“It’s all right,” Terry called back, voice kind in spite of the volume. “I’ve been expecting the need for a visit, although I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.”

Lewis led the way back to his cabin and entered through the front door. If he was worried about waking his family he needn’t have bothered; his mom and Mary were already awake, faces pale and pinched with worry, although they looked relieved to see Terry. Jane had emerged from their room at the sound of the door opening, padding over to stand by Lewis. His dad was leaning over a bowl of boiling water with a towel draped over his head to hold in the steam. As they entered he broke into a coughing fit and swayed, clutching at the table for balance.

Terry removed his coat and gloves but kept on his balaclava, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he made his way over to the table. “Sorry to disturb you, Lucas,” he said gently as he set down his bag, which held all the medical tools he’d managed to scrape together. “I’d like you to tell me all about your illness, any details you can think of. Start at the beginning.” He glanced at the rest of them. “If you have something to add please speak up.”

While they described everything they could think of about Lucas’s condition since he first started coughing, Terry checked his pulse, his blood pressure, examined his throat, listened to his breathing, and felt for swelling around his throat. Then the young doctor asked to refer to Lewis’s medical texts.

Finally, after almost half an hour of mostly tense silence broken by Lucas coughing and spitting into a cup, Terry looked up grimly. “I think we’re looking at whooping cough, Lucas. The distinctive pattern of your coughing fits supports that diagnosis, along with other telltale symptoms.”

Lewis sucked in a sharp breath. That was very bad news. Of the three possible illnesses, whooping cough was potentially the most dangerous. For one thing the Bordetella pertussis bacterium was highly contagious, and his dad hadn’t made any effort to restrict contact other than the usual slight efforts people made when sick out of politeness. The disease also lasted the longest, not for nothing called the “100 day cough”. And worst of all, the coughing fits were so violent they could trigger vomiting, break ribs, and have other similarly dire effects.

Even though Lewis had been approaching that diagnosis himself he was still surprised by it. The medical texts he’d been reading covered diagnosis and treatment of a wide variety of known diseases, but didn’t have much to say about their history or how common they were.

He wasn’t the only one wondering that, apparently. “Whooping cough’s still around?” Mary asked. “It’s an old-timey illness, isn’t it? I’ve never heard of anyone getting it.”

“It still crops up every now and again,” Terry replied heavily. “Most diseases never completely go away, and even with modern treatment and prevention you still see outbreaks. We’ll probably be seeing more of them now.” He turned back to Lucas. “Speaking of which, whooping cough is very contagious. We can hope most people in town have had their DTaP vaccine and their Tdap boosters, and that they’re still effective, but even so I must recommend quarantine. Not just for you but for the whole family, and ideally everyone you’ve come in contact with.”

Lucas nodded heavily. His face was gray, since he’d likely also been doing some reading and must understand what the diagnosis meant. “If Lewis and Jane don’t mind I can move into their room for now.”

“Absolutely,” Lewis said. “We’ll find a way to divert more heat from the stove into there so you’re comfortable.”

“What’s the treatment, Terry?” Eva asked worriedly, not liking the grim tones. “What can we do?”

Terry carefully removed the latex gloves and sealed them in a plastic baggy, then sat down on one of the cots. He spent a few minutes outlining the illness and what they could expect to see from it. Lewis watched his mom grow increasingly worried as their friend described vomiting and broken ribs, and when he admitted how long the illness could last and that there wasn’t much they could do without the aid of antibiotics she burst into tears.

Mary turned to Lewis hopefully. “But you’ve got antibiotics, right? That stock of medicine you prepared?”

He flinched, feeling lower than scum as he had to shake his head. “It’s all gone.”

“All of it?” his mom demanded through her tears. “You didn’t save any?”

Lewis looked away. “Too many life and death situations.”

“It is what it is,” his dad said in a low, disappointed voice. He was obviously suffering enough that he didn’t try to excuse Lewis’s decision, which made him feel even guiltier.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

No one responded. Lucas started to go to his wife to offer comfort, then remembered he needed to be quarantined. Instead he went to their bed and started gathering a few things to move. “Give me a hand, son.”

“I wish I could help,” Terry said, looking helpless and frustrated himself. “Your son was kind enough to provide medicine in several urgent cases, and now that you need it I can’t offer you any in return. We were hoping to get some from the military, or at least some cough medicine or painkillers. Mr. Orban didn’t have any of that to trade either.”

Eva pulled herself together enough to be gracious. “We can’t fault you for not providing what you don’t have.”

“Sure you can.” Terry shrugged uncomfortably. “And I’m sorry, Lucas. I’ll have Chauncey ask around after the storm clears, assuming travel is possible, but for now it looks as if you’ll have to suffer through this the hard way. Keep getting what rest you can, and drink plenty of clean water and eat as much as you’re able to. If you’ve had the cough for a week you’ll probably be contagious for another two weeks, but after that you can stop worrying about quarantine unless, God forbid, someone else in the family catches it.”

“Has anyone else in town reported symptoms?” Lucas asked, pausing in gathering up his pillows.

Terry hesitated. “Maybe.” He turned to look at Matt, who’d been quietly standing near the door the entire time.

Matt took a deep breath. He looked exhausted. “I’ll ask around about it, and also see about spreading the word and implementing quarantine. The last thing the town needs right now is a whooping cough epidemic.”

Lewis felt a stab of pain for his dad as Lucas hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies,” their friend said sternly. “Get well.”

The two men left soon after that, leaving the family to deal with the terrible news. Lewis felt worse and worse for failing his dad, and then stacked on extra guilt about the fact that he was focusing on how awful he felt instead of sympathizing with his dad’s suffering like he should be. He would’ve traded places with him in a heartbeat if he could.

It looked as if his dad had his own guilt weighing on him. “I must’ve caught this when I was with Grimes sorting out the mess with Rogers,” he said heavily. “As if we didn’t have enough trouble from the man.”

Lewis sucked in a breath and pushed aside everything else to focus on what they needed to do. “You’ll get through this, Dad.” He motioned to Jane. “Come on, let’s move our stuff so he can get settled in and get back to resting.”

They’d have to leave the reloading equipment in there, since it took up too much space to go anywhere else, but at the moment he didn’t care since reloading was the last thing on his mind.

The 100 day cough. More than three months of this, and it was just getting started and was already this bad. And it had struck just as winter started with a vicious snowstorm. And it might spread to more of his family or their friends.

He refused to think of that possibility, or of the worst case scenarios of his dad’s sickness. They’d get through this. They had to.

Chapter Eighteen

Helpless

The storm lasted for two days straight, with sporadic flurries continuing the morning of the third. But in spite of that less than ideal weather the town still came alive as people tromped outdoors.

There was just too much to do, things they hadn’t been able to take care of during the storm that needed to be done as soon as possible. And there were also activities they’d been waiting for consistent below freezing temperatures to do.

Trev was bundled up and headed to the barn for one such activity, because unpleasant as it might be there was an important first task to be done after the first real snow.

Now that they could be fairly confident that temperatures would remain below freezing for the foreseeable future, and if temperatures did bump then they had a handy supply of snow they could pack into the storage space to keep it cold until temperatures dropped again, it was time for butchering.

In lieu of smoking, drying, or salting meat, freezing was the time honored means of keeping it edible for long periods of time. It was also one of the easiest. As for doing all the slaughtering at once, not only did it make the job simpler to do it all at the same time, but the sooner they did it once the cold weather allowed, the better. Each day they delayed meant fodder the animals to be slaughtered would need to eat, and with such a long winter ahead and the trouble they’d had harvesting fodder, it was definitely going to be a problem.

They needed to conserve what they had as much as possible.

The town had already carefully assessed all the livestock to decide which ones to convert to meat. Along with available fodder, they needed to balance everyone’s food needs through the winter against keeping as many useful animals as possible to grow the herd for the future. The wethers were obvious first picks, as were the older ewes and does. But since that wasn’t enough to meet the town’s needs or accommodate their store of meadow hay, they then had to assess the remaining animals to see which were the least healthy and well bred.

Hailey would be there to help with that, going off her experience with livestock to determine the best ones to keep. And for the work itself Matt, Rick, Scott, and Robert would also be helping out, although none of them were jumping for joy at the prospect.

Butchering was one of those unpleasant jobs none of them had been looking forward to. Trev had plenty of experience after hunting so much game, but that didn’t make it an enjoyable experience no matter how often he did it. It was a necessary task, one to be done well and gotten over with quickly.

Not only did they have to gut, drain, and skin the carcasses quickly, they then had to quarter them and further separate the sections into cuts ready for use. All before the meat froze, since trying to finish butchering on frozen meat was a nightmare Trev had endured once last winter, on an elk they’d brought down in December. He and his cousin had also learned that thawing a bigger chunk of meat to slice out the cuts they needed for a meal not only took forever and was massively inconvenient, but also quickly spoiled the meat they didn’t end up using.

So the plan was to do the entire process from start to finish as quickly as they could, from humanely killing each animal to wrapping the completed cuts, to be stored in the secure ice shed adjacent to the town storehouse. It was useful to have so many people because they were racing the clock against freezing, not just the meat but their own bodies in the cold, so each person would perform one aspect of the task in assembly line fashion. With any luck they could get it done in a couple hours.

Trev’s task would be the gutting, since aside from the draining and the actual slaughtering, which Matt and Robert would be doing, the others were at least a better at the tasks which required more precision: Rick would be doing the skinning, Scott the quartering, and Hailey dressing and wrapping the final cuts.

He didn’t mind his role, since the grisly task would take his mind off his uncle and the specter of whooping cough hanging over the town.

Matt had come by to alert them that Terry had diagnosed Lucas with Pertussis, and they all needed to watch each other for any signs they’d caught the contagious disease. He also had Trev get together the defenders who most likely hadn’t come in contact with anyone who’d come in contact with Lucas. They braved the storm going house to house, alerting people to the danger and advising them to do their best to avoid contact with neighbors until the quarantine period had passed.

Trev had spent an unpleasant few hours handling that, well aware that he himself might be carrying the bacteria and being out in the cold might give it a chance to take root. The one good thing he could say about the job was that it had kept his mind off worrying about his uncle. It seemed impossible that Lucas was in any real danger, since he took care of himself and Trev had never seen him sick, but it was still a nasty illness and he worried for him.

He was also worried about his aunt, Mary, Lewis, and Jane. After sending out his defenders he’d gone to visit the Halsson cabin to express his concern and support. Aunt Eva looked nearly as exhausted as her husband, as did Lewis, and his aunt’s and Mary’s eyes had been red from recent tears. Lewis and Jane had moved into the main room to let Lucas have their bed, and Trev had spoken to his uncle through the doorway.

Lucas had been stoic and optimistic, but obviously in no shape to receive visitors. Trev had expressed his family’s best wishes, promised to bring around more of his mom’s soup for them, and trudged back home through the storm, where Deb was still gone and the rest of the family was watching each other for signs of coughing or other symptoms.

All in all Trev was happy to have something to do this morning, even this.

Oddly enough Linda had chosen to come with him, to an activity that would have very few spectators. When he and Lewis had discussed the butchering yesterday, mostly to inform his cousin that Robert had agreed to take over for him so he could worry about caring for his dad, Mary had put on a brave face about the necessity of slaughtering the animals. The young woman was clearly distressed at the thought, and this morning Sam had been similarly saddened by the necessity.

As for Linda, she’d also grown fond of the shelter group animals that were going to be slaughtered today, and had actually burst into tears when Trev mentioned it. And yet for some reason here she was, pale but obviously intending to come with him.

Trev had a feeling that had something to do with the handsome carpenter who’d be helping out with the work. It was cute in a way, if unrealistic considering her age, but since he knew his sister Trev had a feeling she would regret trying to use this particular event as an opportunity to flirt.

His suspicions were confirmed when they arrived at the barn to find the others already there and busy making preparations, and Linda immediately made a beeline for where Robert and Hailey were setting out and sharpening tools. She wasted no time drawing the carpenter into conversation.

Robert was obviously wise to her motives, considering the amused look he shot Trev’s way as Linda talked a mile a minute, idly playing with a lock of her soft brown hair as she asked him to describe the butchering process.

Trev shrugged at the man’s unspoken question about whether he should actually do so, giving tacit permission to humor the girl. A little reality would be good for her.

So the carpenter launched into a very, very detailed explanation of how they’d kill, gut, hang, skin, and quarter the excess sheep and goats. In less than a minute Linda was looking green, and as he moved on to describe the possibility of removing the head for taxidermy as a trophy she finally exploded.

“Stop!” she nearly screeched. “This is awful, why would you tell me it?”

Robert raised one eyebrow. “You asked me. I thought you were mature enough to hear it.”

The young woman scowled. “It’s got nothing to do with being mature! You don’t tell a girl those sorts of things, it’s rude.”

At that Hailey cleared her throat pointedly. She wasn’t just hearing about the process, she was going to be helping. And she’d probably started helping with butchering her own family’s animals when she was younger than Linda. Trev’s sister went a bit pink at the woman’s unspoken rebuke, but stubbornly held her glare on the carpenter.

“Not to be rude, but I think it has everything to do with being mature,” Robert replied, not unkindly. “If you want to be treated like a kid, I’ll treat you like one.” That was obviously the last thing Linda wanted to hear considering her flirtation attempts, and she didn’t have a response to it. She fumed silently for a moment until Robert turned back to his work, speaking over his shoulder. “Excuse me.”

“Excuse you is right!” Linda shouted at his back as he walked away. Then she gave an angry screech and stomped away from the barnyard.

Once she was out of earshot Robert looked Trev’s way. “Hope I didn’t overstep myself there.”

Trev shrugged, eyes still on his sister’s retreating back. “Probably better than letting her watch, if she couldn’t even bear to hear about it.”

As her brother Trev felt bad for her, but he also couldn’t deny that he’d gotten just a little bit of satisfaction out of the exchange. He loved his sister, but he wasn’t blind to her difficulty adjusting to a completely changed world. She was young, and she’d always been a little spoiled. That hadn’t prepared her well for a life of scarcity without easy and delicious meals, physical and emotional comforts, and endless entertainment options. She balked at the hard work required of her, stewed at her boredom because she had so little to do, and constantly pestered others who were working to entertain her.

Trev hadn’t realized his sister’s attitude and behavior had gotten noticed to the point where even newcomers were aware of it, and willing to call it out. And from her seething resentment as she stalked into their cabin and slammed the door behind her, he was afraid this wasn’t going to be a wake up call for her.

As he turned back he realized with a start that Deb was standing nearby, watching the exchange. He hadn’t seen her since she bolted from his room, so he was a bit nervous about how things were between them. But to his relief she smiled and waved, obviously here for him. He came over to stand next to her.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” she said immediately. “How’s he doing this morning?”

Trev shook his head. “About the same, and probably will be for a long time. Whooping cough can last months if left untreated, and we have no way to treat him.” He gave her a concerned look. “How about you and everyone in Jane’s group? Are you all doing okay?”

His girlfriend nodded. “No sign of it in our cabin. Matt came by to warn us of the danger, and advise us about quarantine procedures. But I figured since I’ve already been around your family so much without getting sick there’s not much use staying away now.” She fell silent, looking a bit embarrassed. That was skirting close to the topic of what had happened the night before last, and how she’d fled into the storm.

Trev quickly changed the subject, gesturing in the direction his sister had retreated. “So… that was awkward.”

“I don’t completely blame her,” Deb replied, avoiding looking at the hooks Robert was setting up to hang the carcasses to drain. “Although if she has trouble with it she shouldn’t have come around to watch.”

Trev grinned and gestured at the carpenter as he finished that task and returned to helping Hailey with the tools. “I don’t think it was the butchering she came to watch.”

“Watching the butcher’s not much different,” Deb replied, also smiling. Then she sobered and took a deep breath. “Speaking of awkward…”

He bit back a sigh. He supposed they’d put off clearing the air about what had happened for long enough. “Yeah, we should probably talk about that.”

She turned to look at him with her vivid brown-flecked green eyes. “I felt pretty silly after running off.”

“No reason to,” Trev assured her. “I really couldn’t have picked a worse time or way to pop the question.”

That made Deb smile faintly. “No, you really couldn’t have. But yesterday was still pretty lonely and miserable, and I spent the entire time wishing I was with you.”

That felt good to hear. “Same here.” He carefully took her hand. “No reason we can’t give it another try.”

“Exactly.” She took a nervous breath. “By which I mean if you have something you want to ask me, I’ll handle it a bit better this time.”

That was a very strong hint Trev could expect a “yes”, and mingled elation and panic swept through him. Deb was making this easy on him, which he appreciated. But at the same time… “Let’s wait a bit.”

He saw disappointment flash across his girlfriend’s face, then she nodded a bit glumly and withdrew her hand. “Yeah you’re right. We agreed to take it slow.”

“Well that’s not exactly the reason,” Trev admitted. It wasn’t really romantic to spoil the surprise, but he didn’t want her thinking he was rejecting her or getting cold feet. “It has more to do with that “terrible time and way to pop the question” part of it.” He gestured wryly towards the outdoor slaughtering floor the others were preparing. “Not to mention place.”

“Ah.” Her eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. “In that case take your time.”

He planned to. Because in spite of what he’d said, taking it slow was also part of the reason. He enjoyed snuggling, and would definitely like to try kissing some more, but there was no hurry. Doing things right was his priority.

Of course there was such a thing as taking it too slow, especially since Deb was giving him the go-ahead to take the next big step. Still, he’d try to strike a balance.

Until then he had a less than pleasant job to do, and procrastinating wouldn’t get it done any faster. “I should get to work. You’re welcome to stick around if you want.”

Deb made a face. “Thanks, but I think Linda had the right idea.” She delicately leaned up to peck him on the lips. “I’ll see you at home.”

At home. He liked that she was starting to think of his room that way, although it also slammed him with the reality that their relationship was getting serious quick. Which was great, but it was also a first for him and more than a little intimidating. He was treading new territory here, and like it or not that territory might have more than its share of landmines.

Which made him all the more determined to tread carefully.

This was going to be a messy job, so Trev and the others converted plastic sheets into aprons and taped plastic bags over their gloves. Once they were ready they worked quickly, prepping the handful of animals and each handling their task.

The job didn’t exactly go like clockwork since some tasks took longer than others, and they especially had bottlenecks with the skinning and quartering. The cold also complicated everything, and they had to be extra careful to avoid fumbling knives held in chilled, slippery plastic covered and gloved fingers. Nobody wanted to accidentally cut themselves.

Still, they managed to finish the task well before noon, got the meat locked away in the ice shed and the hides hung to freeze as they were until they could be cured, and the extra bits of bone and gristle and the remainder of the carcasses gathered up and stored away so the town could make soup broth out of them, in large pots to be shared with the less well off and to feed the defenders and others doing work for the town. As for the offal, there were a few townspeople who owned dogs that would likely enjoy a treat.

After that the only thing left to do was clean up the area, wash up as best they could, and shake hands all around before going their separate ways. Trev couldn’t help but notice that Hailey and Robert kept their distance a bit, wary of whooping cough. Rick and Scott had come in contact with Lucas recently enough that it wasn’t quite as big an issue with them, although even they were a bit cautious.

Trev trudged home beside Matt, once more faced with grim thoughts of his uncle’s sickness. He didn’t want to think of what might happen, and not just because he loved the man and didn’t want to lose him. Lucas was the effective leader of the shelter group, a reassuring voice of reason and direction during difficult times. With him bedridden they’d struggle, and he didn’t even want to consider how they’d manage without him if worse came to worst.

When he popped into his family’s cabin his mom told him she’d already brought soup over for the Halssons, but he wanted to visit and report on how the butchering had gone so he made his way over anyway. Lewis had felt a bit bad about fobbing his share of the work off on Robert this morning, but Trev had insisted. Aside from wanting to ease his cousin’s burdens, Trev had also been worried that Lewis was so exhausted and emotionally distraught that working around sharp implements would be a risk.

If he hoped his visit would help lift the pall over the house he was discouraged. Everyone was exhausted and drawn with worry, and from his quarantine room Lucas’s coughing came far too frequently. They left the door between rooms open so he could still talk to everyone in the main room, and hear what was said, but that also meant his suffering was impossible to ignore.

Trev excused himself quickly, feeling a bit bad about it. The only highlight of the morning was that Deb was there in his room when he got home, once again comfortably curled on his bed reading a book.

When his girlfriend saw how chilled and dispirited he was she immediately went to get him some hot food and started water heating for him to wash up, then did her best to distract him from his worries with conversation.

He was definitely going to marry her.

* * *

From the looks of it the whooping cough was contained to just a few cases, all of which Terry and Dr. Langstrom were able to identify and quarantine in time to halt the spread. That was a relief, but for Lewis hardly a comfort.

He didn’t get sick, and neither did anyone else in the shelter group, but the next thirteen days were still hell for him. It was horrible knowing that nothing he went through even came close to matching what his dad was going through, but what made it worst of all was that he had to bear the burden of having given away the medicine that would’ve solved the problem.

A very small mercy in all this was that Lucas was spared from the increasingly intense coughing fits leading to vomiting, although he occasionally gagged when spitting up phlegm. But that seemed to be the only thing he was spared. As the days passed he cracked a lower right and upper left rib, both of which made even the slightest movements incredibly painful, so simply laying in bed became a chore. He also averaged only an hour or two of sleep a day at best, the coughing forcing him awake and then keeping him up no matter how exhausted he became. He also ate less and less until even a mouthful was a struggle, and he suffered for it with intense bouts of prolonged coughing.

At least he was able to drink as much water as he wanted without suffering for it, but it didn’t seem to ease his suffering either. Or more correctly, when he didn’t drink enough and his mouth and throat got dry he suffered painfully, but drinking more offered no benefit.

Terry and Dr. Langstrom had already regretfully informed him that no matter how hard they searched, there was no medicine available for treatment or even to relieve his symptoms. That didn’t stop Lewis from scouring the town looking. All he got in return was a lot of guilty apologies from neighbors, with the assurances that if they did have something they’d share it. There were two more storms during that time, and more days with infrequent snowfall. The temperature stayed low enough that all the new snow stuck around, so traveling to the nearby refugee camp or any other town or military location for help was impossible, as was calling in aid over the radio.

So they resorted to any home treatments they could think of, on top of continuing to have Lucas breathe steam even though it didn’t seem to help much. They tried passing him hot cloths to put over his chest and neck, herbal tea concoctions with honey, hot baths beside the stove with a borrowed tub, and anything else that had a hope of alleviating his suffering.

Seven days after he was diagnosed, while delivering him a meal Lewis’s mom caught him in a coughing fit and noticed another alarming symptom. During the tail end of it her husband began twitching, legs kicking slightly beneath the blankets as his eyes rolled back in his head. He confessed that for a few days now he’d been experiencing grayouts which had now progressed to brief blackouts. He’d kept them secret, as much because the lack of control over his body and losing moments of time terrified him as because he didn’t want his loved ones to worry.

The blackouts were intense, occasionally even entering a dreamlike state. And although everyone who saw them happen insisted none lasted more than a couple seconds, his dad was certain they lasted minutes.

Lewis knew Doctor Langstrom had a bag valve mask, and asked to borrow it to try to assist with his dad’s breathing to try to prevent the blackouts. But the surgeon explained that the symptom, cough syncope, didn’t come from lack of air. It came from the brain briefly not getting enough blood during extreme coughing fits. There wasn’t much to be done aside from making sure he recovered and got breathing as soon as possible once he was alert again.

After that Lewis’s mom insisted on joining her husband in quarantine to care for him, heedless of the rest of the family’s worry about her catching the horrible illness. She argued that they all would’ve caught it by now if they were going to, but either way she couldn’t keep watching Lucas suffer alone while helpless to do anything for him.

In the following days Lucas didn’t improve, but he at least seemed comforted by his wife’s presence. He was even able to rest a little easier. Truthfully none of them were resting well, sick with worry for him, but they counted the days with him, knowing each one brought him closer and closer to getting better.

100 days was an eternity, though.

As the days passed Lewis constantly drove himself to distraction due to worry, lack of sleep, and constantly finding little to do. Everyone in the family experienced that, but Lewis always felt the drive to be doing something to make things better, when there wasn’t anything he could do. He went out when he could, weather permitting, and he did all the chores, but in his downtime he couldn’t concentrate on reading any of the texts from his archive, or much of anything else.

Most of that was his constantly building guilt as his dad’s condition worsened, as Lewis was forced to watch him suffering knowing his store of medicine could’ve made all the difference. And he didn’t have it.

His family wasn’t blind to his mounting agitation. His dad finally insisted he come in and move his reloading equipment into the main room, so he’d have a repetitive task he could sink his concentration into. It would also be an excuse for Trev to come over every now and again, which might help relieve the mood in the house.

Lewis gratefully complied, and from that point worked reloading almost nonstop in his spare time, even when Trev wasn’t around. Jane usually worked alongside him, seeming grateful for a chance to impose artificial isolation on herself in the crowded confines through intense concentration on her work. When Trev did come to help Deb often tagged along, and she proved a welcome distraction for his mom and Mary, engaging them in conversation and offering her constant support.

It helped the days pass as the mood in the cabin grew more and more grim, in direct proportion to Lucas’s worsening condition. But no matter how hard Lewis concentrated, it never left the back of his mind that it had been in his power to make things better if he could’ve just held some medicine back. That he’d failed his dad when he needed him most.

And then on the night of the thirteenth day, which marked three weeks from the beginning of his illness, Lucas’s condition took a drastic change for the worse.

Lewis was wakened from fitful slumber to the sound of his dad screaming and coughing at the same time. He lurched out of bed while Jane was still starting awake beside him, rushing to the door and throwing it open.

“Dad?” he asked into the dark room. His question was met by the sound of crying. At first he thought it was his mom, and then with shock he realized it was Lucas. “Dad!” he said again, alarmed.

In his entire life Lewis had heard his dad cry less than a handful of times, and most of those were in particularly touching movies. His dad was remarkably stoic when it came to pain, from stubbing toes to more severe injuries. He seemed to have a superhuman ability to suppress any knee-jerk response to the pain until he could get himself under control.

And now he was screaming and crying.

Lewis felt tears coming to his own eyes as his dad answered in a broken voice. “It’s noth-AGGH! No, I can’t shrug this aside. It hurts too bad.” He fell silent, breathing raggedly through his sobs.

After ten or so seconds Lewis’s mom spoke up, sounding nearly frantic. “He broke another rib during a coughing fit a half hour or so ago.”

Lewis felt the presence of people crowding the door with him, Jane and Mary. “I’m going to get the light,” he said, already reaching for the switch. When the LED Christmas lights flooded the room with blue-white light, giving him a clear view of the scene, he wished he hadn’t.

His dad was sitting rigid against the pillows at his back, sucking in shallow breaths to avoid moving. Tears streamed freely down his face, which was a mask of agony and despair. His mom had her arms wrapped around his shoulders in a way that didn’t put too much weight on him, and she was crying too.

Lucas met Lewis’s eyes for a moment then looked away, ashamed even though he had no reason to be. He looked at Jane and Mary, just as briefly, then sucked in another shallow breath to speak. “Right after it first broke it felt numb. I knew it was bad, but there wasn’t any pain so I hoped.” He shifted slightly, even that making him grit his teeth in pain. “It’s directly behind the center of the lung. The others don’t hurt too bad during a coughing fit, or at least the pain is manageable. This one…” He groaned. “It’s torture. It’s worse than torture. Every time I cough it’s going to be agony. For weeks before it heals, if it even can when the coughing is constantly aggravating the break. I can’t do it.”

He broke down crying again.

Mary threw her arms around Lewis, face pale and barely keeping from sobbing herself. He held his sister tight, tears streaming down his own face as he was overwhelmed by the helpless sensation of watching someone he loved suffering something this horrible, unable to do anything about it. His dad was already exhausted, already in pain, barely eating, blacking out during coughing fits. And now this?

It wasn’t fair. A good man shouldn’t have to go through this.

“I’ll get Langstrom,” he said.

He expected his dad to protest, in spite of his condition, and was almost surprised when instead he replied desperately. “Please do, quick. Please, let him be able to do something.” He lowered his voice to a terrified whisper. “Please, God, don’t let me cough again.”

Lewis turned and rushed to get into his cold weather gear. There was no hope of his dad’s cough miraculously stopping, so they had to do something. Anything.

Jane got dressed with him, whispering that she’d get Terry. During their flurry of activity Mary hovered near the door to the adjacent room staring inside. She was so distressed she didn’t even hum, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Finished first, Lewis left his wife behind and burst outside, wading through snow well above his knees with a thick crust that shattered into chunks at every lurching step. They had cleared a path between most of the shelter group houses, and the road was clear as well, but he cut a direct path to the house the surgeon was staying in with his family and Carrie Grant.

Langstrom didn’t complain about being woken up, and neither did his family or the young veteran sleeping on the other side of a basic partition. The surgeon quickly pulled on his own coat, hat, and gloves and grabbed his bag, instructing Lewis to describe the problem as they hurried back to the Halsson cabin.

When they burst through the door into the pale blue LED light Lewis caught a glimpse of Langstrom’s expression before he put on a mask from his bag. That brief look told him everything he needed to know about how serious this was.

The surgeon quickly pulled on gloves as well, not latex but thick rubber that could be sterilized after use, then entered the room and made his way over to Lucas. “Describe where the break is for me,” he said briskly, ignoring the older man’s tearstained face and shuddering sobs.

With Lucas’s help he pinpointed which rib was broken. He was kind enough not to try to confirm it by touch, which would’ve only caused more pain. “Lewis, get a clean cloth and pack some snow into it,” he said in the same brisk tone. “I’d like to try to reduce the swelling. Then we need to tape it if you have any available. I realize athletic tape is probably too much to ask, but packing or masking tape isn’t bad. Duct tape will work but, well, it’s going on skin.”

Lewis bit back a curse. “All we’ve got is duct tape.”

“Duct tape it is, then,” Langstrom said. Behind Lewis the door opened, Jane returning with Terry.

Mary hurried to dig out the tape from one of the bins, while Lewis and his wife found a dish towel and headed outside to pack it with snow.

Just outside the door Lewis sagged against the wall, gasping for breath. He knew the situation was urgent, but he needed a moment before he lost it completely. “I should’ve held some back,” he finally said.

He wasn’t sure Jane had a clue what he meant, although she probably did since he’d been dwelling on this almost nonstop. She didn’t answer, though, so he kept going. “I knew I should’ve. Those livestock antibiotics and painkillers could save his life, and would definitely ease his suffering.” Lewis clenched his fist around the towel. “I knew we’d need them at some point. It was completely rational to keep them.”

“We did need them at some point,” his wife pointed out bluntly. “Which was why we used them to help the other volunteers.”

“Then I’m selfish,” Lewis spat. “We saved friends and neighbors, and I didn’t hesitate at the time. I knew if I had I’d feel guilty.” He looked along the wall to the dark outline of the window he’d installed in his room, where dim light filtered through the thick covering and insulation they put over it at night. “Now I have to watch Dad die in agony, knowing I had what he needed. Knowing if it was a choice between him and the neighbors and friends I helped, I’d pick him without hesitation. Only I was too stupid at the time to be selfish, even though I knew I’d regret it.”

Lewis loved his wife more than words, and he accepted the way she was. But right then, with his world crashing down around him, he wished she would open her mouth and tell him his dad wasn’t going to die. Wished she’d put her arms around him, pull his head down to her shoulder, and tell him everything would turn out okay.

But she didn’t. Jane saw the terrible truth just like he did, and it wasn’t in her nature to offer comforting lies. Even if she somehow realized he needed one, she wouldn’t even know how to try.

So he pulled her to him instead, held her tight and closed his eyes and just tried to blank his mind. His dad needed the ice, but he needed a minute to reconcile what a bad son he’d been. The guilt wasn’t new, Lewis had been feeling it ever since Terry diagnosed Lucas, but in the face of his dad’s enormous suffering it threatened to overwhelm him.

He’d prepared for this! Before the Gulf burned he’d planned for sickness, for pain, and he’d gotten the supplies he’d need. Antibiotics for livestock that he’d checked could also be used by humans, as well as tables for dosages. Painkillers and general symptom relief medicine, although not as much of the latter. Of the important stuff, though, he’d had enough to last his family for years. So after the world ended, when they needed them most and there was no other way to get them, the people he loved would have what they needed.

It hadn’t been a massive supply, but it had been more than enough for a few people. He could’ve pocketed a handful of pills from it, a dozen from each bottle, and the heart-wrenching nightmare his dad was going through would be bearable.

But he hadn’t, because at the time others had needed them and he couldn’t say no. His dad had been there for him every day of his life. His wisdom and guidance had made Lewis the man he was today. What kind of son failed his father like this?

A lot of Lewis’s plans had gone awry. A lot of his preparations had been insufficient, or had been deprived of him due to the actions of others. He’d lost most of the food and other supplies he’d stored for himself and his family. He’d lost the shelter, which was now a gutted husk of slagged metal and fused dirt. His loved ones faced a hard winter because he hadn’t done enough to prepare for it.

But with all that, this was the first time he truly regretted a decision even after thinking it through rationally. The first time he felt like he’d made a serious mistake. He’d weighed the immediate need of suffering and dying friends against the potential need he might have for those lifesaving supplies, and had gambled against the future.

And lost.

He felt guilty for saving his friends’ lives, knowing now what it had cost him. And he felt like a monster for feeling guilty. But if he could go back he’d refuse them and think only of his family’s potential need first. He’d let those supplies sit there, unused, just in case they could help his loved ones at some point in the future. And he wouldn’t regret it.

Jane shivered and reached up to brush at the icy tear that had dripped onto her chin, then reached up further to feel at his face. Her gloved hand felt warm, and with a start Lewis realized there were tears that had frosted in the bitter cold, sticking to his skin.

This wasn’t weather to cry in. Or sit outside in for that matter. And his dad needed this ice pack. His son may have failed to get him the medicine he needed, but he could still fill a towel with some snow to slap on the broken rib that had shattered his will.

Sighing, he knelt and gathered up some powder, just enough that he could still fully wrap the towel around it and bunch the ends. Then he started for the door.

Before he could open it Jane caught his arm, looking up at him. “I don’t know what to say to you,” she said, sounding miserable and frustrated. “I don’t know what to do.”

Lewis pulled her into a quick hug, tensing slightly as the noise of his dad coughing followed by panting screams reached his ears through the door. “Neither do I,” he whispered.

He pushed open the door and slipped inside after his wife, closing it quickly behind them. Mary’s tear-streaked face greeted him from the doorway to his room, clutching the roll of duct tape in her hands. Lewis couldn’t meet her gaze as he slipped through to hand Langstrom the makeshift ice pack.

If he had the choice to make again, he knew he’d give out the medicine to his friends and fellow volunteers when and where it was needed. It may not be the right choice, but without knowing the future he didn’t see how he could’ve done anything but what he did. He could try to tell himself that for good or ill that decision was in the past, and dwelling on it couldn’t change what was happening now.

But he’d carry the weight of it for the rest of his life, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself.

At Langstrom’s direction Eva gently eased Lucas forward and pressed the ice pack to the injured area on his back, providing some relief with cold. They all waited, Terry and Langstrom quietly tossing medical jargon at each other that Lewis only vaguely understood. Probably as much to fill the silence as to discuss the injury and how it related to Lucas’s condition. They were infrequently interrupted by more coughing/screaming fits, and Lewis wanted to run each time.

After about fifteen minutes Langstrom had her remove the pack, and with another clean cloth and rubbing alcohol from his bag wiped the area clean and dry. Then he prepared to tape the rib.

Even knowing the necessity of it, Lewis still winced slightly as the surgeon laid strips of duct tape directly on Lucas’s skin, horizontally across his back and around the side to the front of his chest, as well as diagonally over one shoulder and down along the spine just behind the shoulder blade.

“Shouldn’t you go all the way around?” Lewis asked. He thought of movies where tightly wrapped strips of cloth completely covered the injured person’s chest.

Terry answered for the busy surgeon. “A full wrap would prevent the lungs from expanding. Deep breathing is hard for a patient suffering from Pertussis, but it’s important he breathe as deeply as he can.”

“Even with a broken rib?” Eva asked worriedly.

“Even then,” Langstrom replied. “As much as the pain allows.” He applied one last strip of tape, carefully smoothed them all to make sure they’d stuck, then backed away. “You mentioned when you hurt the other two ribs that lying flat is difficult. Let’s prop you fully upright and find a way to support your head on either side for when you sleep.”

Lucas nodded and started to speak, then abruptly began the unbroken series of soft, wheezing coughs that were a prelude to the more intense coughing fits. The expression of fear and resignation on his face as he finally sucked in a breath after almost ten seconds, then began violently coughing hard enough to hunch over, was one of the most terrible Lewis had ever seen.

Although he could barely see through his tears he still looked away, gut wrenching, as his dad once again gave strangled cries of pain through his coughing. The tape didn’t seem to have helped at all.

The cries abruptly stopped, and he turned to see his dad twitching violently, then slumping bonelessly against his wife as he blacked out, eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. A couple seconds later he came to, jerked upright, and sucked in a sobbing breath as he screamed in pain again.

His screams cut off into panting, desperate breaths, broken by wrenching moans. “I can’t,” he begged. “Dear God, I can’t do this. Please make it stop.”

Lewis looked at Terry and Langstrom, and from the frustrated and hopeless expressions on their faces knew there was nothing they could do.

“If there were any painkillers I’d give them to you in a heartbeat, Lucas,” Terry said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Lewis flinched at that and felt a new surge of guilt.

Lucas barely seemed to hear. “Months of this,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure I can last a day. I’d rather be dead.”

“Don’t say that!” his wife said fiercely, gripping his hand so tight her knuckles were white. “We’ll get through this.”

Lewis looked away as his dad started crying again. “I’ll go ask around for medicine again,” he mumbled, backing out of the room. Nobody spoke as he fled out the door.

It was the middle of the night, he’d already canvassed the whole town searching for anyone who had anything that could help, and in the cold and dark the best he was going to accomplish was to make himself sick too. He’d go back inside soon, although he wasn’t sure how he’d bear it, but for now he’d just needed to escape.

He huddled down against the wall of the house, the snow soft beneath him, and stared at nothing. A few minutes later Langstrom and Terry emerged, splitting off to return to their homes. Either they didn’t see him in the dark or they were giving him some space, but either way he was left alone to try to come to terms with what was coming.

His dad wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t.

Chapter Nineteen

Nature

It seemed like a miracle when Lucas went the whole day without coughing. He even managed to sleep, waking frequently to take great gulps of water before sinking down into unconsciousness again.

Lewis didn’t know if some protective instinct was keeping his dad’s body from coughing, to prevent doing further injury to the rib and causing more unbearable agony. Or maybe it was just luck. Either way he was fervently thankful all the same.

He spent the reprieve scouring the town again, desperate to find someone, anyone, who had medicine. Anything that could help with pain, or ease coughing, or even an inhaler or something that might help clear his dad’s airways to make breathing easier and reduce the frequency of coughing fits.

There was nothing. What little the town had had been “donated” to the military, or used up by this point with no chance to replace any of it. If any individuals had private stores they weren’t saying, and although Lewis had numerous debts he could call in if he wanted, nobody seemed willing or able to help him like he’d helped them.

That wasn’t how he wanted to think, but in his despair and frustration it was hard not to. As night fell he trudged back home, hoping and praying that his dad was still enjoying this reprieve, able to rest and hopefully benefit from some miraculous recovery.

But there was no miracle, and the reprieve had been short-lived. Lewis returned to the sound of coughing, his dad’s obvious agony throughout the fit, and it hit him like a bullet to the heart. Even knowing it was irrational he’d tried to fool himself into believing that the coughs would suddenly and permanently stop.

His mom rushed out of the sickroom when she heard the door open as Lewis came in. Her face was lined and haggard, her shoulders hunched. She looked as if she’d aged a decade, and he was suddenly worried that the stress she was under would cause her to fall ill, too. If not with whooping cough then with something else.

“You have something,” she said, more a plea than a question. “Please, tell me you have something.”

He shook his head woodenly, unable to speak his failure. His mom’s shoulders slumped even more, and she dropped onto the end of his and Jane’s bed and collapsed into exhausted, despairing weeping.

His dad had refused to eat after the new broken rib, since even soup was bringing on coughing fits. And their hopes that a day of rest and healing might’ve done some good were quickly dashed as those fits came on more frequent and severe than they ever had before. That night was the worst yet.

The next morning the Smiths came over to be with them during this most difficult of times. Eva, Mary, Aunt Clair, and Linda huddled into a weeping ball, while George and Trev came to rest a hand on Lewis’s shoulder, then stand with him silently.

After a short time of mutual comfort Lucas, speaking in a weak, whispery voice, called from the next room that he’d like to speak to each of them in turn. He obviously intended it as his final farewell and last bit of fatherly, brotherly, and unclely advice.

No one wanted to acknowledge that that’s what he was doing, but when he called for his sister to come in she went, shutting the door behind her at his request.

To Lewis it already felt like a funeral as they waited, his loved ones crying going in and crying coming out. His aunt, his mom, Mary, Trev, Linda, Jim, George, even Jane. It seemed like his dad meant for him to wait til last.

When Lewis was finally called in he came to sit on the bed beside his dad, resting a hand on his leg. Neither of them said anything, sitting like that for a while, and then his dad sucked in a slight breath. “Out with it,” he said, barely audible.

Lewis blinked. “What?”

“You’re carrying weight around you shouldn’t be. Out with it.”

He blinked again, but this time it was from sudden tears burning in his eyes. “I had the medicine to help you,” he whispered. “I gave it all away when we were fighting the blockheads, and now you have to go through this. It’s not fair. After everything you’ve done for us, for the town, you should be able to catch a break.”

“Mercy is a human trait,” his dad whispered, face pale from the effort of talking and not coughing. “Nature doesn’t have mercy. It doesn’t matter what’s fair, it matters what is.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have mercy, either,” Lewis said bitterly. “I could’ve eased your suffering, made you better.”

His dad sucked in a shallow, tentative breath. “Don’t ever regret mercy. Nature might punish you for it rather than reward you, but that doesn’t change your choice. You live each day as best you can, learning from the past, preparing for the future. But don’t ever let regret of the past or fear of the future poison your actions.” A weak hand drifted over to grip his shoulder. “You saved lives with that medicine, you know you did.”

“And let you suffer this.” Lewis tried, but against his will the tears finally flowed. He reached out to grab his dad’s hand with both of his, holding it tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” his dad said with a wan smile. “It’s kind of hard not to regret what would help me at the moment. But I don’t regret that you gave it to our friends when they needed it, and I don’t want you to regret it either. Not for my sake.”

They sat in silence for a while, as his dad’s breathing got more strained. It caught, his shoulders shaking as he visibly forced back a cough, and then the coughs escaped anyway in their soft, suffocating fit of several seconds. Then his dad sucked in a sharp breath and hunched forward as the real fit began, punctuated by cries of pain from his broken rib.

Lewis held his dad steady as his eyes rolled back in his head in his momentary blackout, looking away from the wrenching sight. Then his dad sucked in a sharp gasping breath and settled back against his pillows, tears leaking from his eyes as he composed himself from the fit.

“There’s things I need to say, son,” he said quietly. “I’ll probably be dead soon.” He looked as if he might laugh, then froze with the terrified realization that laughing would bring the coughing. “To be honest, it’s not the worst prospect right now.”

“Don’t say that!” Lewis said, anger appearing out of nowhere to war with his grief.

His dad sent a cautious hand out to rest on his, careful not to move any part of his torso. He opened his mouth to speak, then froze as if waiting out a potential coughing fit. His breath came in short, shallow gasps.

Finally it seemed to pass. “I’ve always been able to count on you to accept reality, even if it’s not pleasant,” he said gravely. “You know I can’t go on long like this. I’m dying. When I’m gone the family will need you.”

“I know,” Lewis said quietly. “But you’ll be with us for decades yet, and right now we need you. As bad as this is, I know you can make it.”

The hand over his gripped his fingers with surprising strength. “Reality, son. I wish I could be there to help you. I certainly don’t intend to give up, tempting as the idea is. But it’s going to happen, and you need to be prepared for it. Ready to be there for Eva and Mary, and even Clair and her family if it comes to it. And somehow in all that you’ll need to take care of Jane and build a future for all the children I hope you’ll ha—”

The last word was cut off by another fit of wheezing graduating to violent cough/screaming. Lewis held his dad through it again, wishing there was something, anything he could do.

Knowing there was something he could’ve done, if he’d been more selfish. Whatever his dad said otherwise.

“I’m proud of you, son,” his dad gasped when the coughing finally ended. “Be strong. All the weight rests on you, and if you crumble so will they. I know you can handle it, which is why I can die in peace.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Lewis begged.

There was a long, pained pause. “All right. There’s always hope, and I’ll hold to that. Just as long as I know you’re prepared for reality.”

Only there was little hope, and they both knew it.

* * *

Over the next few days his dad’s condition worsened even further.

It wasn’t any specific symptom, just accumulated pain and stress from the nonstop trauma making it impossible to fight the illness. Not just physically but mentally as well, as his will to even try drained away. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, drank endless gulps of water that seemed to do no good, all the while suffering more and more coughing fits. The coughing grew less and less intense, but that was because he was weakening with alarming swiftness, not as any sign of improving health. He began soiling himself during fits.

Four nights after his dad broke that final rib, Lewis’s own exhausted sleep was interrupted by the alarming sound of silence.

Part of him hoped it was another reprieve from the coughing, that his dad was finally getting the rest he needed, but he knew it wasn’t. The silence was too complete, the terrible sound of one less person breathing in the small space.

Then his mom began crying, deep, heart-wrenching sobs of pure grief, and his fears were confirmed. Lewis led Jane and Mary into the other room and huddled beside the bed, gathering their mom into a quiet embrace as their world changed.

He felt numb, unable to think or feel. But he knew that, like the fatal broken rib that had ultimately killed his dad, it was a numbness that was masking terrible pain.

* * *

In spite of the deep snow and bitter cold hundreds of people braved the conditions to attend the funeral.

It had been more than three weeks since Lucas fell ill, and Terry assured them there was no longer a threat of spreading the disease. With that assurance Lewis and his family were surrounded by sympathetic friends and neighbors, who expressed their sincere condolences for a man they’d genuinely loved and respected.

Lewis did his best to respond to everyone, but the ceremony and burial passed in a numb haze. He wished his dad was still alive, and his loss tore a hole deep inside him. But at the same time a treacherous part of his mind felt relief in knowing that his dad’s horrific suffering, which would’ve continued for who knew how long and likely still would’ve ended this way, was mercifully over.

They buried him in a spot along the eastern slope overlooking the town. There were no shortage of willing hands wielding shovels, and even though the ground was frozen near the surface and rocky all the way down, by the time the ceremony began they had a deep, well squared hole.

Matt spoke, and Aunt Clair. Lewis sprinkled the first shovelful, followed by a long line of friends and family, then Trev and Rick finished filling in the hole. By that point the wind had picked up, blowing the snow up the hillside at them and chilling everyone. One by one people trudged home, their desire to pay respects defeated by nature’s assault, until only the family was left.

Lewis wasn’t ready to go just yet, but he could see his mom and Mary shivering as they held each other in mutual comfort. Trev looked as if he’d step in to suggest they head home at any moment, and Aunt Clair and Uncle George were quietly neatening up the gravesite in preparation for their departure.

So he gathered his family in his arms and gently turned them towards their cabin, the others falling in around them. His aunt, Linda, and Deb bustled ahead to make hot chocolate from a powdered mix for them, and they spent the rest of the day in the Smith cabin quietly adjusting to a new reality.

Lewis just wanted to go home and lose himself in reloading work as an escape, but the rational part of him realized that could quickly become an unhealthy obsession if he let it. He was responsible for his family now, which meant he had to be the steady one. So he sat with everyone speaking quietly of his dad’s life, forcing himself to stay present.

The future looked bleak at the moment, but although it didn’t seem like it at the moment he knew it would get better.

* * *

Sam had insisted on attending the funeral. In response Matt had insisted on bringing a chair for her to rest on.

Even so, the walk and sitting in the cold and wind had taken a lot out of her, and she was half drowsing on their bed with the blankets pulled up around her head and over her face so only her mouth was visible.

After tucking her in and making sure she was comfortable Matt had gotten out the inventory of the town’s stores. He was seated at the end of the bed going over it with a pen, making notes. Once he finished he planned to head out to the storehouse and check the inventory against the actual stores to make sure everything was there.

Catherine had warned him that things would probably be missing. Theft was inevitable, even with defenders on guard 24/7. In fact, she’d even hinted at the possibility that the defenders themselves might sneak items, hoping not to be caught. As long as the thefts remained infrequent, only a few small items here and there, it was probably best to address it with a stern warning but not make too big an issue of it. For one thing it would be nearly impossible to catch the culprit, and the trouble it created wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Of course, if it was a major problem it would require a major response. Matt really, really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. He’d have to get Trev involved for something like that, and his friend had enough on his plate at the moment. Not to mention that even for major thefts finding the culprit would be hard, and the town couldn’t afford to lose anything.

Who knew, though. Aspen Hill was an upstanding place and the defenders had all risked their lives to protect it. Maybe they’d be above petty theft, and vigilant in their duty from outside thieves. It couldn’t hurt to expect the best from his people, even as he prepared for the worst.

Sam abruptly sucked in a sharp breath and sat upright, blanket sliding off her head as she hunched slightly around her abdomen. “Ah!” she gasped.

Matt turned, immediately attentive. “A contraction?”

His wife nodded, although most of her focus was on her pain and her breathing. Matt was concerned, but not immediately alarmed since Sam had experienced false labor contractions four times in the last week.

Still, she was almost to her due date and any of these could actually be the real deal. “Should I get Dr. Maggy?”

Sam grimaced. “She’s going to stop answering the door for us,” she said. “Maybe wait a bit and see if these settle down?”

Matt nodded doubtfully. They’d had the OB/GYN come for two false alarms already, ones that really seemed like they were the precursor to labor. Sam was embarrassed about wasting the doctor’s time, even though everyone assured her it was perfectly fine to be careful, and that was part of Dr. Maggy’s job.

By this point Mona, April, and Terry had come over to see if Sam needed anything. “The closer we get to the due date, the more we want to err on the side of caution,” Terry advised.

Sam shifted in obvious discomfort. “Well maybe,” she admitted hesitantly. “I just don’t want to keep bother-oh!”

There was a new expression on her face, less pain and more… surprise? “What is it?” Matt asked worriedly.

His wife flushed in embarrassment. “I think, um, my water just broke.” She gave them all a look, half fearful and half excited. “That means it’s time, right?”

Matt’s heart began pounding in his chest at the announcement. “I’ll get Dr. Maggy,” he blurted, bolting for his coat and boots. His mom and sister also burst into motion, gathering clean towels and getting water heating on the stove. Terry was already kneeling beside the bed, taking Sam’s vitals and talking her through breathing and relaxation techniques.

During all this Matt’s dad had ushered Paul and Aaron to an out of the way corner, where the boys were staring at the flurry of activity with wide eyes. “Is Aunt Sam hurt?” Paul asked fearfully.

His older brother gave him the look of complete exasperation unique to children. “No, dumby, she’s having the baby!”

“But we’re all supposed to be excited about that!” Paul protested. “Why does she look scared and like it hurts?”

Matt was grateful when his mom took a break from her preparations to swoop in and handle the children. “That’s right, she’s getting ready to have your cousin,” she said briskly. “But it’s very hard work and we need to give her some space. Ed?”

His dad jolted into action. “Right. Get your warm clothes on, kids! We’re going to visit Aunt Alice and Uncle Rick.”

Aaron whooped in excitement and rushed to grab his coat, hat, and gloves. Paul, however, paused long enough to look up at Matt. “But when I come back my cousin will be here, right?”

The old familiar fear surged, but Matt forcefully pushed it down and smiled at his nephew. “That’s right. And if you’re very quiet and gentle and Aunt Sam isn’t too tired, you might get to take a peek at him or her before bedtime.”

That seemed to satisfy the three year old and he ran off to get his warm clothes, which was a relief. Paul was proving pretty smart for his age, and had a habit of asking awkward questions. Like the one he asked his grandpa as Ed ushered the two boys out the door, about why the baby wasn’t a boy or girl until they were born, and what they were before that.

The door shut behind the three, blessedly cutting off the inrush of frigid air, to the sound of Matt’s dad patiently doing his best to explain that the baby was a boy or girl right from the start. They just didn’t know what it would be until it was born, unless they had special medical equipment to see inside the mom’s tummy.

Matt was out the door close behind the boys, although he immediately broke off in a different direction to the cabin where Dr. Maggy lived with the Clarkson family. The older woman immediately bustled to get her warm clothes and medical equipment when Matt explained the situation, asking for clarification even as she let him lead her out the door at a brisk walk.

When he stepped back inside the house with the OB/GYN close behind, the partition that covered his and Sam’s room was in place to block the view. From beyond it he could hear muted female voices speaking encouragingly.

Dr. Maggy immediately called a greeting and let them know she was coming in, disappearing behind the screen. Matt wanted to follow and see how his wife was doing, but he was a bit foggy on protocol for the father during labor. He supposed it was up to his wife, and he’d wait until she asked for him.

April and Terry came out. “It’s a bit cramped in there for so many people,” his sister explained quietly. “Anyway we want to go make sure it’s not an imposition on the Watsons to watch the boys.”

Matt nodded. Normally they would’ve taken Aaron and Paul to Linda or Mary to watch, and in fact they’d made tentative plans to do just that when Sam went into labor. But with the loss the family had just suffered that would definitely be an imposition, and anyway the boys were fond of the Watsons as well.

With the couple gone and everyone else behind the partition Matt was left alone in the main part of the cabin, feeling awkward overhearing the conversation coming from their small room. He’d already learned most of the finer points of childbirth, when the OB/GYN talked him and his wife through everything to prepare them for what it would be like. But now that it was actually happening the details were a bit embarrassing.

Thankfully it was only a few minutes before he heard Sam’s quiet voice asking for him, and then his mom bustled out to beckon him in. He hesitantly stepped around the screen to find his wife lying comfortably on their bed, done for the time being with whatever checkup and measurements were necessary, and bundled up in blankets once again waiting for her next contractions.

“Dr. Maggy thinks it’s going to be several hours still,” she said, patting the bed beside her. “I was thinking to pass the time we can settle on a name if it’s a girl.”

Matt was only too happy to comply. He held his wife tight as his mom and the doctor excused themselves, busily making a few preparations out in the main room, then settling in to wait and chatting about other things.

Aside from the contractions which took place every fifteen minutes or so, and Dr. Maggy regularly coming in to check on Sam while Matt did his best to ignore the procedure, things started out fairly placid. Keyed up with nervous energy like they were Matt and his wife both had a bit of trouble staying relaxed and playing it casual.

But the labor seemed to progress quickly, the contractions coming closer and closer together over the next few hours. Soon Matt found himself being gently ushered around the partition, informed it wouldn’t be long now. April bustled in to take his place holding Sam’s hand and offering encouragement.

He felt a bit bad not being there to support his wife all the way to the end, but a bit relieved as well.

As he imagined the birthing process had gone for who knew how many centuries or millennia, he waited out in the main room with his dad and Terry, while the women handled the final moments of bringing a baby into the world.

It wasn’t an easy wait for him, having to listen to Sam’s pain as her gasps and moans turn to muted shrieks over the next half hour or so. Then he felt guilty because if just hearing it made him feel that awful, he couldn’t even imagine how she must be feeling.

Finally her cries were joined by urgent whispering from the other women, and he was sure he heard the word “crowning” said along with even more intense encouragement. After another minute or two all the noise dropped into a moment of sudden, tense silence.

This quiet was different than the others, a deeper hush. Matt found himself on his feet, listening intently. Surely it couldn’t already be over. Sam had only been in labor for a few hours, and with her petite size and it being her first child they’d expected the pregnancy to be so difficult for her. This had to be just another lull between contractions, Sam resting and the others giving her some space.

Then a tiny cry pierced the air and Matt’s heart dropped out from beneath him. He slumped back onto the chair, a swirl of emotions warring with numb disbelief.

The baby was born, had just taken its first breath. Their baby. He was a father.

He stood again, waiting eagerly for someone to come out and get him so he could see his son or daughter. His dad pulled him into a hug while Terry slapped his back.

It seemed to take forever for the women in the other room to do whatever it was they did, cleaning the baby and wrapping him or her in a clean cloth and helping Sam get composed after her ordeal. Matt couldn’t help but begin to pace, listening to the continuing small cries of his child until finally, to his relief, they petered out to hiccups and then stopped.

His mom emerged from behind the partition, beaming as she dried her freshly washed hands on a towel. “You can go in,” she said, pulling Matt into a tight hug. “It’s a girl. A healthy baby girl. Congratulations, daddy.”

A girl. A daughter. Matt found himself grinning stupidly as his mom stepped aside, and he eagerly stepped around the screen.

Sam lay limp on their bed, pale face soaked with sweat and equally soaked hair clinging to the pillows propping her up. She’d been covered with a blanket but was still in the labor position, and he realized she still needed to deliver the placenta.

But that was just a fleeting thought, because in his wife’s arms she held a small bundle that immediately grabbed Matt’s full attention. April hovered nearby, as if ready to spring into action if she was needed. When his sister saw him she stepped away to clear the path between him and his family.

Sam looked up when he entered, giving him a radiant smile in spite of her obvious exhaustion. “Hey.”

“Hi, mommy,” he said, coming over to her and sitting on the edge of the bed. He leaned over to kiss her damp forehead and smoothed away a bit of limp hair, then looked down at the tiny face peeking out from the bundle. Their baby was still a bit red from her ordeal and her first cry, eyes scrunched tightly shut and lips smacking and making tiny bubbles. A fuzz of the same raven hair as her mother’s was plastered damply to her head.

Matt could immediately see she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

He kissed Sam again and rested his cheek against the top of her head, staring down at their child. “Good job.”

“I want to say it wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it would be,” she said in a wrung out voice, “but it was pretty miserable.” She moved one finger to gently stroke her daughter’s cheek, a single tear of mingled exhaustion and joy slipping down her own. “And completely worth it.”

Matt reached down to mimic her gesture, feeling the baby soft skin. His wife immediately shifted slightly to support the newborn’s head and lifted her, offering her to him. He accepted his daughter as carefully as he could, feeling like it was impossible for his big clumsy hands to properly hold someone so tiny and fragile. Beneath the blanket he felt the baby kick her legs very slightly.

“Hi,” he said, looking down into the small red face. She didn’t respond to his voice, still blowing her little bubbles.

He only held her for a few seconds before returning her to her mother, who began adjusting her shirt to nurse. April immediately bustled over to help, offering a pillow to help support the baby as they waited to see if she’d latch on.

All of this was new to Matt, and he felt a bit awkward. “Do you want me to stay?”

In response Sam, eyes still on their daughter, blindly searched out his shoulder with her free hand and gripped it tight, pulling him closer. Matt complied, a bit relieved to let her dictate what to do here. Together they watched their daughter, so tiny and new, cuddle against her mommy.

“She’s a miracle,” he whispered.

His wife looked up at him with a soft smile. “Now’s as good a time as any to settle on her name. What will it be?”

Matt pulled her a bit closer. “After listening to you screaming for a the last half hour I’d feel like kind of a jerk if I didn’t let you have this one. Olivia Chloe Larson it is.”

April, who’d been getting ready to slip out and give them their space, shot him a dirty look. “Screaming? I believe you mean “singing the angelic cries of a mother’s love.”

He couldn’t help but give his sister an impish look. “The angels need to do some serious practicing, then. That’s not a chorus I’d want to listen to.”

Sam’s shoulders shook with exhausted laughter, and she held little Olivia a bit more securely so the baby wouldn’t get dislodged. “Oh wow, that mental picture is awful.” Matt abruptly yelped as the fingernails of her hand holding his dug in slightly, and his wife turned to give him a sweet smile. “Although I hope you really do appreciate how hard this was.”

“I do!” he said, hastily but with complete sincerity. He leaned down and kissed her. “You were amazing.”

They sat watching their child nurse for a few minutes. Then Sam gave a sharp gasp of pain. “Oh! I think that’s the afterbirth coming.”

Matt bolted to his feet. “That’s my cue to leave… I’ll go get Dr. Maggy.” He hesitated. “I mean, unless you really want me to stay.”

She made a face. “Yeah, no. I think this is a magical moment I can do without you seeing.”

His mom and the doctor were already pushing into the room, his mom gently accepting Olivia and cuddling her close as Sam sat up a bit and got back to work. Matt wasted no time slipping out around them into the main room.

A burst of cold air announced his dad returning, closely followed by Rick and Alice. The blond young woman was holding Aaron and Paul’s hands, at least until they saw Matt. Then they rushed over to him.

“Uncle Matt, Grandpa says the baby’s here!” Paul shouted.

“Is it really a girl?” Aaron asked, crowding his younger brother.

“Shh,” Matt said, smiling at their excitement. “Yes, the baby is here and she’s a girl. But we still need to be quiet for a little longer.” He turned to Rick and Alice, accepting a congratulatory handshake and hug in that order from his friends. “Thanks for watching them.”

Alice ruffled Aaron’s blond hair. “It was fun. They’re really excited to meet their cousin.”

“Speaking of which,” Rick said, lifting the bundle he held at his side. “Aside from bringing the boys home, we wanted to congratulate you and give the newborn a gift from the whole family.”

Matt accepted it and saw that it was a baby blanket, made from the softest rabbit fur he’d ever felt. “Wow. Olivia will love this.”

His friend grinned. “So you finally settled on Olivia Chloe?”

“Can I see her?” Alice blurted.

Matt hesitated, about to refuse, when Sam’s voice came through the screen. “Oh please send her in, and the boys too! I want them to meet their cousin.”

He took that to mean his wife was finished with the third stage of her childbirth. Sure enough, a few moments later Dr. Maggy emerged carrying a plastic-wrapped bundle, which she tried not to draw attention to as she took it away to be disposed of.

Matt nodded to Alice, who took the boys by the hand again and led them around the screen while he stayed back with Rick, Terry, and his dad. They could hear the hushed but delighted sounds from all three, even Paul curbing his usual exuberance.

“So it went smoothly?” Rick asked.

“Under the circumstances very smoothly,” Terry agreed. “I suppose unless we can rebuild our infrastructure in record time, we’ll have to get used to delivering children the way women did during the frontier days.”

Matt found this sort of talk a lot less worrying now that Sam’s ordeal was done and their baby was safely born. Even so, it was a concern for everyone. “Trying to get a more up to date hospital with proper equipment up and running should probably be one of our main priorities once we get through this winter and we’ve figured out long term survival. I’m sure enough medical technology is still around for trade or scavenging to get what we need, as long as we can somehow generate power for it.”

Alice emerged ushering Aaron and Paul ahead of her. “Sam and the baby are ready to rest,” she said quietly. “But she’d love to have the blanket for Olivia.”

Matt thanked his friends again, accepted more congratulations and hugs, then went around the partition to rejoin his wife and daughter. Sam gave him Olivia to wrap in the blanket, which he did carefully to make sure she was snug but not too restricted. Then she insisted he come sit beside her and hold their baby.

He did, staring down in wonder at the tiny, perfect face as his wife relaxed and finally fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

There was a lot of sadness and trouble in the world now, but there were also moments of joy. Olivia was his reminder that there was a future as long as they kept going. A future he’d work to build for her.

Epilogue

Another Try

Halloween with three feet of snow and a temperature in the low 20s was surreal.

Trev remembered trick-or-treating on chilly autumn nights, leaves crunching underfoot and blowing eerily on vagrant breezes. In the excitement of the event he usually hadn’t even needed a coat.

But this? This was more like Christmas. Even more like it than his last Christmas before the Gulf burned had been, since then it had rained the entire day with no snow in sight. It was like everything was tossed on its head.

The kids didn’t go trick-or-treating, of course. Instead the shelter group and the nearby neighbors with children had planned a sort of rotating party event. Since no one cabin was big enough to hold more than a dozen people socializing was awkward, so instead the kids went from house to house in a pattern. They would bounce in from the cold for a cacophonous few minutes of playing prepared games and eating a few small treats at each, usually without even removing their coats, hats, and gloves, and then would head back out to tromp to the next house.

Jim was torn between wanting to be part of the event and feeling like he’d outgrown it. But the Smith family had offered to be part of the festivities in any case, so he used that as an excuse to head out and make his rounds with Alvin and the kids from Jane’s group.

With Uncle Lucas’s recent death their friends had tentatively let them know they could gracefully duck out if they wanted, with full understanding, but Trev’s mom insisted it would be good to take part. So she was there at the door when the first group of visiting kids arrived, offered their young guests honey treats. Meanwhile Trev, Linda, and Deb organized everyone in telling a spooky story with each person taking turns saying a line. The stories usually tended to be more hilarious than scary, as the kids went off on wild tangents with whatever they were thinking at the moment. But that just added to the fun.

The Larson family would’ve loved to host visitors, but with a newborn in the house they decided that would be too much noise and confusion. Instead the Lynns with their boys went visiting to other houses, while the kids from Jane’s group, as well as Tam’s daughter Jen and a couple others, begged for a chance to see Sam and the new baby. She welcomed them to visit one or two at a time, if they could be quiet and gentle. They crept up to the bed where the new mother was resting without a peep, looking at the little bundle she held with wide eyes.

The Halsson cabin was conspicuously dark for the evening. None of them were in the mood for holiday celebrations, and although they received a few brief visits from friends they mostly spent the night to themselves. There were a few exceptions, like Aaron and Paul who insisted on stopping by to visit, and the kids from Jane’s group who wanted to give “Aunt Jane” and “Uncle Lewis” presents to make them feel better.

After the kids stopped coming around Trev’s family also packed up to go spend some time with their extended family, bringing hot chocolate made from powdered mix for everyone to share. They kept the visit quiet and were considerate, but although it was obvious their presence was appreciated they got the hint that it would be better if they didn’t linger.

Before going to sleep Trev and Deb cuddled up beneath the covers on his bed for an hour or so. His girlfriend had been enchanted by Olivia earlier when they’d visited their friends to briefly congratulate them, and tonight she was much more affectionate than usual. To the point where he reluctantly figured he should return to his cot sooner rather than later, to both of their disappointment.

The contrast of the narrow, chilly surface was uncomfortable and more than a bit depressing, but as Trev tried to fall asleep he reassured himself that tomorrow the situation would hopefully change.

During the last couple weeks they’d come a lot farther where intimacy was concerned. They spent more time holding hands, snuggling under the blankets together, even making out like tonight. That had reassured Trev that they were on the right track.

So he’d decided it was finally time to give his proposal another try. A proper one this time.

He’d been planning to do it tomorrow evening for over a week now, with help from his mom and Linda. His sister was overjoyed that they were finally taking that step, while his mom was mostly just relieved. She’d been supportive of Deb moving in as his mostly platonic roommate, and understanding of the situation. But even though she hadn’t said anything it was obvious the question of propriety bothered her.

Above and beyond the conflicts with the Smith family’s particular faith, she also worried that with how tight-knit the community had become some of the more traditional stigmas would become more prevalent as well. And there was also the fact that, even with his family knowing the issues Deb was still getting over and Trev’s romantic situation with her, and hopefully also trusting his restraint, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they assumed the two of them were getting up to way more than they really were.

All in all an engagement would ease his parents’ minds, and a wedding even more. Truth be told it would make Trev more comfortable with the situation himself, since it would be one less reason for them to restrain themselves when they were already sorting through plenty of others.

With that in mind his mom was more than happy to help him cook a romantic dinner and set the mood with some beeswax candles. For her part Linda had agreed to lure Deb away for a few hours while they prepared everything, on the pretext of giving Sam and baby Olivia some company and helping out the new parents. Sam was a delighted co-conspirator, and promised to keep Deb occupied for as long as possible.

It was kind of hard to keep a secret from someone living in the same room, and Trev was pretty certain Deb not only guessed something was up, but also what and why. He’d tried to make it seem like his preparations to propose to her were simply part of planning for yesterday’s Halloween festivities. But judging by the knowing look his girlfriend gave him as Linda tugged her out the door, he had a feeling the cat was out of the bag. At least that look was equal parts nervous and excited.

He was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

As soon as the two were gone he burst into a flurry of activity, gathering up the ingredients he’d set aside and helping his mom get started on them. After she finally shooed him away from the stove to do most of the cooking herself he hurried into his room to get things ready there.

He’d borrowed a small folding table and a couple plastic chairs from Lewis, and had scrounged up a reasonably romantic centerpiece of dried wildflowers and homemade potpourri. Combined with the flickering candles filling the room with a dim, warm light, and his phone playing soft music in the background, he thought he’d done a pretty good job setting the mood.

Trev put much more effort than usual into cleaning himself up and shaving, changing into his suit and looking himself over in a small camping mirror to make sure he wasn’t a complete mess. Then he did a bit of neatening up the beds and his few possessions, brought in rocks that’d been heating against the stove to put under their chairs as footwarmers, and finally left the door open between rooms so the stove would warm the area. Then he went in to help his mom with the final touches on dinner.

Just in time, since he’d barely finished preparing the plates when he heard Linda loudly speaking outside, his sister doing her best to sound casual as she not so subtly warned him the two were on their way back.

He hurried into his room, shutting the door to the kitchen behind him, and tried not to fidget as he took his place by the table, nervous anticipation quivering through him as the outside door scraped open and Deb stepped inside. Over his girlfriend’s shoulder Linda gave Trev a thumbs up before scurrying away to the front door.

For her part Deb did a reasonable job of acting surprised, and but he didn’t think her nervousness and excitement was an act as she tried to play it cool.

“Wow,” she said, shutting the door and taking a tiny step forward. “If I’d known you were going to spring a formal dinner on me I would’ve worn an evening gown. Although that’s probably a good thing since I seem to have misplaced mine.”

Trev grinned at the icebreaker as she pulled off her coat and gloves and briefly sat on his cot to tug off her boots. “I don’t know, you’re really pulling off the “bundled up for zero-degree weather” look.”

She grinned back, letting him pull out her seat at the table for her and slide it back in as she sat. “It’s to show off all the curves I used to have before I started this diet I’ve been on for the last few months.” Her eyes fell on the empty table in front of her. “Speaking of which…”

“Right.” He hurried into the other room to bring out the dishes that had been warming on the stove, winking at his family as they silently waved in encouragement. Although he did pause to mouth a “thank you” to his mom and Linda for their help this evening.

After he served the food, seared venison steak and instant mashed potatoes smothered in barbecue sauce, with canned peaches and evaporated milk for dessert, they both did their best to play casual. Like this sort of night happened all the time and wasn’t leading up to something important.

Trev took it as a good sign that his girlfriend hadn’t immediately bolted from the room at the sight of his elaborate preparations, for what was obviously going to be a second proposal attempt. One more properly and, he hoped, romantically done this time.

Even so, he inwardly sweated bullets as he counted down the moments to when she set down her fork and he judged the time was right.

Under the tablecloth he fiddled with the engagement ring he’d bought from Ned when the trader brought Lewis’s reloading materials. Trev was still convinced the man’s impressive stock came from raiding a high-priced jewelry store during the chaos just after the Gulf burned, or trading with someone who had. But on the other hand it meant Trev had managed to get ahold of the sort of diamond whose cost was counted in months of salary, all for the price of a few weeks’ worth of food.

Assuming it was real. Lewis had looked it over and seemed to think it was, but his cousin was by no means a professional appraiser. It was a good sign that Chauncey was also fairly confident in it, as were Scott and Ed. Not that he’d been showing it around or anything, to reassure himself he wasn’t about to slip a cheap dollar store trinket on the finger of the woman he loved.

He’d held onto it for almost a month wondering if this day would ever come. Now that it had, each minute ticking by until the big moment felt nearly that long.

Finally Deb set down her fork and fell into an expectant silence. Trev took a last sip of water from his glass and smiled in nervous self-consciousness, then slipped from his seat and down to one knee in front of her. He very casually managed not to trip over the table leg like he’d been slightly afraid he would, and his hand didn’t shake at all as he held it behind his back for the moment.

“Debra Rutledge,” he began, further relieved to find his voice was clear and steady. “I don’t know if you remember, but the first time we met you gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek.”

“I remember,” she said, face going slightly pink in spite of her radiant smile. “It was a really good candy bar.”

He smiled back. “I had a bit of a crush on the woman I met that day, warm and kind and full of enthusiasm and affection. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and counted myself lucky when I did.”

Her smile flickered slightly, and he caught a hint of pain in her eyes. “You almost didn’t,” she whispered. But then she recovered, taking his free hand and resting it on her knee with both hers holding it.

Trev nodded solemnly. “We’ve been through difficult times, but some of the people closest to me have confessed that they consider themselves lucky to have found someone who can stand with them through anything this life throws at them.” He gently squeezed her knee. “I’ve been equally blessed to find someone I can love and rely on, who’s made a difficult world a joy to live in.”

Tears started gleaming in Deb’s eyes, and he hurriedly produced the ring and held it up to her. “Will you marry me?”

“You’ve been so patient with me, Trev,” she whispered. She barely glanced at the ring, eyes on him, hands squeezing his tightly. “Thank you for not giving up. Yes! Of course yes! I—” She abruptly hesitated, glancing down at the ring again, and brown-flecked green eyes shimmering with tears abruptly grew huge. “Holy cow! Is that real?”

“I’m 99.9% sure it is.” Trev freed his hand and gently took her left hand in both of his. “May I?” She nodded eagerly, and he grinned like an idiot as he slipped the ring on. It was slightly loose, which was a shame, but then again Robert had assured him he could probably tighten it a bit if he needed.

Come to think of it, if Trev had really wanted to keep the ring a surprise he probably shouldn’t have shown it to so many people. At least it was the one thing he’d prepared for tonight that Deb did seem genuinely surprised by.

His fiancee held it up, staring at the glittering diamond. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It’s in good company.” Trev stood, offering his hand. “I think this is the part where we kiss?”

Laughing, she let him pull her to her feet and threw her arms around him, lips rising to meet his.

End of Book One

The story continues in First Spring, Book Two of the Nuclear Winter series.

For questions, comments, or other feedback the author would be glad to hear from you at Tradern8@gmail.com.

Dramatis Personae

Smith family:

Trevor Smith: Goes by Trev. Average height, blond hair, blue eyes, 21 years old. A main character. Current leader of Aspen Hill’s defenders. Went to college in Orem, Utah, before the Gulf refineries attack forced him to return home.

George Smith: Trev’s dad. Average height, graying light brown hair, hazel eyes, in his late 40s. Mild-mannered, worked from home before the Gulf burned.

Clair Halsson Smith: Trev’s mom. Tall, blond hair, blue-green eyes, in her late 40s. Younger sister to Lucas Halsson. Worked in Price until a job opportunity moved the family to Michigan.

Linda Smith: Trev’s younger sister. Short, light brown hair, brown-green eyes, 16 years old. Pretty and popular before the Gulf burned, has shown signs of adjusting poorly to her new situation.

James Smith: Goes by Jim. Trev’s younger brother. Tall for his age, blond hair, green eyes, 13 years old. Inexperienced but determined to help out however he can.

Halsson family:

Lewis Halsson: Trev’s cousin. Tall, light brown hair, hazel eyes, 22 years old. A main character. Remained in Aspen Hill preparing for a disaster when his dad went on sabbatical to Norway with the rest of the family, returning to their roots in their ancestral homeland.

Jane Mathers Halsson: Tall, slender, red hair, light blue eyes. 24 years old. Married to Lewis. Formerly a refugee until her group was welcomed in Aspen Hill, her father Mitch was a gun nut and taught her to shoot, as well as taking her hunting. She shot competitively in college for a while and did well. Solitary and socially awkward, she’s proven able to take care of herself as well as the rest of her group.

Lucas Halsson: Lewis’s dad. Tall, silver hair, blue eyes, in his early 50s. Clair Smith’s brother. Originally stranded in Norway with his family when the Gulf burned, used the Gold Bloc invasion as an opportunity to get a position in the logistics division. Which allowed him to get his family back home to the United States, where he was reunited with the Smith family in a prison camp and aided them in escaping.

Eva Halsson: Lewis’s mom. Medium height, graying dark hair, dark eyes, in her late 40s. Quiet and unassuming, spends most of her time caring for her family and helping the shelter group where able.

Mary Halsson: Lewis’s sister. Tall, blond, blue eyes, 17 years old. Painfully shy. Has a habit of humming songs relevant to what she’s feeling or the situation she’s in.

Larson family:

Matthew Larson: Goes by Matt. Tall, blond hair, gray eyes, 20 years old. A main character. Current Mayor of Aspen Hill. Went to college in Orem after playing basketball in high school.

Samantha Hutchins Larson: Goes by Sam. Petite, raven hair, dark eyes, 20 years old. Married to Matt. Expecting a child soon. Grew up in New York City and was living in Utah for school. Hitched a ride with Matt to escape the riots and ended up in Aspen Hill. Helps in the clinic as a nurse.

Mona Larson: Matt’s mom. Short, graying hair, pale blue eyes, in her late 40s.

Ed Larson: Matt’s dad. Medium height, gray hair, brown eyes, in his late 40s.

April Lynn: Matt’s older sister. Fair hair, blue eyes, 26 years old. Married to Terry with 2 young children. Helps in the clinic as a nurse.

Terry Lynn: April’s husband. Reddish-blond hair, green eyes, 29 years old. Recently graduated as a surgeon and was interning at a hospital in Salt Lake City before the attack. Serves as Aspen Hill’s doctor as best he can with limited supplies.

Aaron Lynn: April and Terry’s son. Towheaded, blue eyes, 6 years old.

Paul Lynn: April and Terry’s son. Towheaded, blue eyes, 3 years old.

Aspen Hill residents:

Catherine Tillman: Tall, silver hair, light gray eyes, in her late 50s. Councilwoman in Aspen Hill before the Gulf burned. Successor to Mayor John Anderson after he was killed in Razor’s attack. Later gives up the position of Mayor to Matt, but still remains an important advisor and leader in the town.

Scott Tillman: Catherine’s husband. In his early 60s. Owner of Tillman’s Hardware before the Gulf burned. Donates most of his store’s stock to the town storehouse, including a small supply of guns, ammo, hunting bows, etc. Also offers his store as the storehouse site. Joins the volunteers fighting against the blockheads and serves as quartermaster.

Tamara Raymond: Goes by Tam. Catherine and Scott’s daughter. Petite, auburn-haired, 25 years old. Has a toddler daughter named Jennifer. Grew up as a tomboy and was a reliable defender during Aspen Hill’s fights against Razor and Turner’s raiders, and later joins Lewis fighting the blockheads near Aspen Hill. After the death of her husband leaves the fight for the sake of her daughter.

Carl Raymond (Deceased): Tam’s husband. A reliable defender. Joins Lewis fighting the blockheads near Aspen Hill. Dies in an ambush in Aspen Hill Canyon.

Chauncey Watson: Rick and Wes’s dad. Mid 40s, a retired high school teacher. Mans the town’s radio to glean news of the outside world. Lost part of his leg to amputation in the fight against Turner’s raiders.

Edna Watson: Chauncey’s wife. Early 40s, brown hair.

Rick Watson: 19 years old. One of the most reliable and well liked of Aspen Hill’s defenders, and a good friend to Trev, Lewis, and Matt. Joined the volunteers fighting along Highway 31.

Alice Thornton: 17 years old, long blond hair, blue eyes. After her parents die she moves in with the Watsons and becomes part of the family. Joined the volunteers fighting along Highway 31. Engaged to Rick.

Wes Watson: Rick’s brother. 16 years old.

Pete Childress: Medium height, reddish-brown hair, 17 years old. Mother died during the winter after the Gulf refineries attack, becomes an orphan after his dad dies in the first attack by Turner’s raiders. Joins the fight against the raiders, then later the volunteers fighting along Highway 31. After a dispute with Matt deserts and disappears to fight the blockheads on his own, until he’s later picked up by Lieutenant Faraday and invited to enlist.

Raul Gutierrez: Medium height, brown hair, brown eyes, classically handsome, 19 years old. Soldier who occupied Aspen Hill under the command of Riley Ferris just after the Gulf burned. Later joined the town and became one of the most trusted and reliable defenders. Grew up in Santa Rosa, New Mexico.

Tom Harding (Deceased): 46 years old. A member of Jane’s group and father to Alvin Harding. Died going back for Alice during Trev’s failed ambush of the blockhead patrol.

Alvin Harding: Tom’s 16 year old son. A member of the shelter group with a knack for bad puns.

Jack Dawson: In his 70s, owned a lot of land southwest of Aspen Hill before the Gulf burned. Keeps chickens and other fowl, gifted a laying hen to Matt’s family and later sold them more chickens.

Benjamin Thompson: Goes by Ben. Leader of the refugees who joined Aspen Hill the fall after the Gulf refineries attack. Has two grandkids: Eve (14) and Harry (13).

Debra Rutledge: Goes by Deb. Medium height, brown hair, dark green eyes flecked with brown, 24 years old. Formerly worked at the Newtown General Store, but fled south when Fred Vernon betrayed the town. Captured by blockheads in the southern states and taken to Utah, where she’s rescued by Trev. Joins the fight against the blockheads, then later accepts Trev’s invitation to live in Aspen Hill. With Trev’s help is struggling to get over her traumatic experiences as a prisoner.

Grant Albertson: One of the freed prisoners who joins Trev’s squad at the same time Deb does, and accepts an invitation to live in Aspen Hill.

Brandon Shanks: One of the freed prisoners who volunteered as part of Gutierrez’s squad in the fight against the blockheads, and afterwards accepts an invitation to live in Aspen Hill. A good friend to Gutierrez.

Trent Lincoln: A new resident of Aspen Hill. 24 years old. Originally met Trev on the road to Michigan, then later as a volunteer along Highway 31. Starts out as part of Vernon’s group in the fight against the blockheads, but moves over to Trev’s squad after Tom Harding’s death. Accepts Trev’s invitation to join the town after the blockheads leave.

Madison Lincoln: Goes by Maddie. Trent’s mother.

Thomas Lincoln: Trent’s father.

Carol Clarkson: An energetic woman in her 30s who for months now has been supervising the labor of the women in need for Aspen Hill, giving them an opportunity to work for food from the town’s stores.

Carrie Grant. One of the wounded veterans Aspen Hill takes in. Light brown hair, brown eyes, 19 years old. Blinded in one eye by shrapnel with that side of her face heavily scarred.

Derek Withers. One of the wounded veterans Aspen Hill takes in. In his mid 20s, lost his right leg at the hip.

Robert Paulson: Carpenter. Tall, brown hair, green eyes. One of the refugees the town recruits for his knowledge and skills.

Garret Langstrom: Trauma surgeon. Married with a young son named Bryce. One of the refugees the town recruits for his knowledge and skills.

Bernice Langstrom: Garret’s wife. One of the refugees the town recruits for her knowledge and skills.

Hailey Nelson: Medium height, 22, brown hair, dark eyes. Raised in a family that kept goats and made animal products. One of the refugees the town recruited for her knowledge and skills.

Margaret Johnson: Prefers her patients to call her Dr. Maggy. OB/GYN. In her late 40s. One of the refugees the town recruits for her knowledge and skills.

The military:

General Erikson: Originally in charge of holding the Colorado Rockies based in Denver, was in charge of US forces in northern Utah during the fight against the blockheads. Currently leading the fight against the enemy on the Great Plains.

General Lassiter: Originally in charge of holding the Utah Rockies based in Salt Lake City, led the US forces guarding southern Utah, especially along I-70, during the fight against the blockheads. Currently leading the fight against the enemy east of the Mississippi river.

Colonel Jonathan Grimes: Guarded the area along Highway 6 under the command of General Erikson during the fight against the Gold Bloc. Currently assigned to manage the territory around the Utah Rockies and care for the refugees, while his superiors pursue the blockheads with the intent of driving them entirely out of US territory.

Major Kyle Rogers, USAF: Coordinator of the refugee camp west of new Aspen Hill.

Lieutenant Dell Faraday: Serves under Colonel Grimes. Blond and green eyed. A friend to Aspen Hill who is currently assigned somewhere to the east fighting the blockheads. Finds and aids Pete Childress and offers to let him enlist.

Sergeant Ethan Davis: Medium height and solidly built, brown hair, brown eyes, slightly tanned skin, in his 30s. Picked up Trev’s family on the way home from Newtown after Vernon steals their truck. Led the Aspen Hill volunteers along Highway 31 during the fight against the blockheads. Currently fighting the enemy somewhere to the east.

Corporal Bryant: A soldier who fought south of the Aspen Hill volunteers along Highway 31, currently serving in a refugee camp farther south and west.

Fred Vernon: Former Sheriff of Newtown. After betraying his town’s trust he winds up in the Rocky Mountains volunteering in the fight against the Gold Bloc. Once the fight is won and the blockheads retreat he and his men join the military on a more formal basis and accompany them in pursuit of the enemy.

Copyright

Copyright © 2017 Nathan Jones

All rights reserved.

The events depicted in this novel are fictional. The characters in this story are also fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is entirely unintentional. While most locations are real some creative license has been taken in describing them, and a few locations are entirely fictional.

Content

Nathan Jones
FIRST WINTER

Best Laid Plans Recap

Prologue Pipe Dreams

Chapter One New Arrivals

Chapter Two Windfall

Chapter Three Surplus

Chapter Four Out in the World

Chapter Five Night Terrors

Chapter Six New Neighbors

Chapter Seven Newly Wed

Chapter Eight Honor

Chapter Nine Dependent

Chapter Ten Unwelcome Guests

Chapter Eleven Downward Spiral

Chapter Twelve Tipping Point

Chapter Thirteen Justice

Chapter Fourteen Resolution

Chapter Fifteen Unexpected Opportunity

Chapter Sixteen Birthday

Chapter Seventeen Storm

Chapter Eighteen Helpless

Chapter Nineteen Nature

Epilogue Another Try

Dramatis Personae

Copyright