Basically the US citizens east of the Mississippi had suffered a lot after the Gulf burned. Starvation, rioting, looting, rampant crime. Then the Gold Bloc invaded, and finally the Retaliation left the remaining population centers nuclear wastelands.
Following of all that, Canada's quiet takeover of the area had been a benevolent invasion. The surviving US residents were allowed to keep their land and possessions, and on top of that were given medical aid and offered decent jobs. More importantly, with Canada came the oil, flowing down to the few remaining refineries and the ones the Canadians repaired or completed as a first priority. And with oil came electricity, fuel, and a slow resurgence of the technology they'd enjoyed before the world went crazy.
Still, benevolent or not it remained an invasion. Canada had claimed huge swaths of formerly US territory as its own. Canadians fleeing the Gold Bloc takeover of their homes in western Canada, or from the cities in eastern Canada who couldn't support themselves through the brutal nuclear winters, had settled into existing infrastructure in the eastern States left abandoned by the deaths of hundreds of millions of Americans.
That meant the remaining Americans had to watch as the homes of lost friends and neighbors, with all their abandoned furniture, equipment, and other possessions, were taken over by strangers.
Which led to . . . friction. Former US citizens who didn't appreciate suddenly facing a choice of becoming Canadian citizens or being forced to leave their homes and get relocated to the Rockies. Canadian settlers who thought it was ungrateful not to be welcomed with open arms after everything they'd done for the destitute, half wild population they'd come in and saved.
There wasn't much open violence, thanks to the Canadian Liaison Division of the United States Armed Forces, which Pete was part of, and their Canadian military counterparts, but the tension manifested itself in other ways. And it might have gotten ugly even so if both groups weren't united against the CCZ slavers that posed a constant threat to everyone.
Residents and settlers might resent each other, but they all felt raw, vicious hatred for the former Gold Bloc soldiers who'd stolen or destroyed their homes, killed or enslaved their loved ones, and were continuing their depredations even now.
Nothing unified people like an enemy. Especially an enemy that obligingly made themselves monsters so you didn't even have to resort to propaganda. Or maybe Pete was just cynical.
Of course Lafayette's situation was more complex, since there were two types of Southern Canadian towns in the area that had formerly been the northeastern and eastern United States: there were the more normal communities where people struggled to make a living, usually small, isolated towns that bled population at an alarming rate as their citizens left to pursue other options. And much more commonly, and with far larger populations, were the scavenging towns.
There wasn't much to say about the normal communities, except for the most part they were peaceful places full of decent people, if not usually very prosperous. As for the scavenging towns . . . well, Pete was looking at one right now. Lily described Lafayette and other nearby scavenging towns she'd visited as an odd mixture of Wild West, refugee camp, boomtown, and Great Depression era slum.
Most of the people in them were trying to get their lives back together and eke out an honest living. But that was a hard thing to do with the nuclear winters so long and bitter, and the productive months so short and often plagued by slaver raids.
Pete understood that well enough, since even in Saskatoon people were in that situation. But the scavenging towns showed an even more extreme range of results, since people either got lucky or starved, with little hope of charity.
So as the name suggested one of Lafayette's biggest businesses, even years after the Gulf burned, was reclamation or deconstruction (the polite words everyone used for scavenging) in the ruins of St. Louis on both sides of the river. Most of which was done with government sanction.
That was another area that Lily had a surprising amount of knowledge with, since she'd spent several months over the last five years as part of a scavenging team with Kathleen, whenever the military camp hadn't been hiring for laundry work.
And they'd had surprising success with it. There was still far, far more infrastructure than there were people to make use of it, and within that infrastructure could be found the wealth and possessions of the hundreds of millions of people who'd died after the fuel stopped flowing.
With farming devilishly hard in the cold, and Mexico able to export surplus food to the highest bidders, most people tried to scrounge or scavenge trade goods. Abandoned buildings were stripped of fixtures, wiring, and pipes, especially copper. Quality furniture was judged based on whether its value was worth the cost to ship it to someone who wanted it. Vehicles and other sources of metal like playgrounds were broken down for scrap by desperate men willing to do the long, backbreaking labor for humble returns to feed themselves and their families.
Government sanction tended to be a nebulous thing. As long as there was no fighting over scavenging rights, and nobody tried to “scavenge” from claimed or occupied buildings, they tended to turn a blind eye. If issues did occur between parties, the one that had gone through the proper channels to get permits to deconstruct in the area were generally favored.
With such an easy, potentially profitable industry available precious few people bothered to produce anything. There was sort of a gold rush mentality, communities built around scavenging trade goods to ship to Mexico, or anywhere else that wanted them, for food.
And around the scavengers themselves came the industries to cater to their needs, including the shady, seedy, and even downright criminal ones polite society did its best to ignore. Lily didn't shy away from pointing those out as they toured Lafayette, although she didn't go anywhere near them and advised him not to, either. And more than just for propriety's sake; crime was much higher in those areas.
At the least most of those areas were near the edges of Lafayette, far away from most of the people who lived there. A lot of the values of Western civilization held strong for most people, even in a scavenging town, and even with the worst sorts they tried to hide under at least a veneer of respectability.
Still, Lily hurried him past more than a few streets lined with “massage parlors”, “cigar lounges”, and other businesses where things that had once been illegal or at least severely frowned upon were now barely even kept out of public view.
“The military tries,” the young woman said apologetically. “But the unfortunate truth is that these communities are lodestones for unsavory sorts. I've seen more than my fair share of con artists, thieves, and burglars, and I've heard from MPs in camp that there's an underbelly of organized crime in town that's been nearly impossible to stamp out.”
“Wow,” Pete said quietly.
Lily shuddered. “I've even heard rumors of underground kidnapping rings that snatch up unwary transients, refugees, and freed slaves and sell them to the CCZ.”
“And the Lancers are in charge of managing this town?” he asked.
He expected her to frown on him suggesting that all of that was the fault of the 102nd, but to his surprise she just nodded. “Well it's not exactly a secret that Lancers frequent a lot of those unsavory places, so they have a reason not to crack down on them.” She fidgeted. “Of course, so do the Chainbreakers.”
That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised if his old company's reputation was so tarnished.
Lily brightened and pointed ahead, to a much neater, nicer part of town. “Of course, on the other side of the coin there's the honest, hardworking people who manage to scrape together a modest life, generally banding together in tightly knit neighborhoods within the larger community, like that one.”
“Which we seem to be heading towards,” Pete observed, half as a question.
She grinned. “Well yeah, that's where me and Kathy live.” She lowered her voice. “This one's pretty good, but a lot of the o
ther honest neighborhoods in town can be rough. They're often fiercely, even violently territorial when it comes to keeping the rougher element in Lafayette out. But they take care of their own and fight back against organized crime.”
“I'm glad you're living in a good place,” Pete said. Now that he knew more about Lafayette he found himself worrying about the young woman. He supposed she knew how to hold her own after living here for so long, but he sort of wished she didn't have to. Kathleen's family farm was sounding like a fantastic place for her at the moment.
Lily pointed out a few of the nearby neighborhoods that were especially hostile to strangers. They tended to avoid trouble unless someone messed with them, and when corpses did show up on their streets it was a good bet the deceased wasn't innocent. They represented more of the Wild West side of things, as opposed to the slum or refugee camp, or even the boomtown.
Pete liked to believe his wild days were behind him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that sort of vigilantism.
Lily seemed to sense his disapproval. “Of course there's also the almost normal neighborhoods. Peaceful, fairly prosperous, generally free of crime or vice. Friendly people.”
“Why don't you live there?” Pete asked.
She laughed. “I couldn't afford it. That's where anyone with money lives, on the streets directly around the military base. The 102nd actually patrols that area regularly and stamps down on any unsavory elements.” She shrugged and gave him a crooked grin. “Who knows, maybe they get bribes, or that's where their officers live. Or maybe they just don't want word getting around that they can't even protect houses twenty feet away from their base.”
“This is really shattering my rosy memories of this place,” Pete said wryly.
The young woman looped her hand through his arm. “It has its problems, sure. No place is without them, these days. But in spite of that it's safe and secure enough as long as you know which areas to avoid.” She looked away. “It's the closest thing we have to home away from the farm.”
Since she'd been kind enough to not ask him about Abella, he decided not to pry into why she wasn't staying there all the time. He decided to go for a different question. “Are Kathleen and Bryce going to stay here or move back there this winter?”
Lily shrugged. “Stay, probably. Bryce leads a scavenging team and has some business interests in town. That's actually how Kathleen met him, when we joined his team.” She stopped in front of a neat three room frame house with a small front porch and an even smaller yard enclosed by a neatly painted white fence. “Well, here we are.”
Pete halted, feeling a sudden surge of trepidation. The place looked so . . . homey. He was sure Kathleen was happy here, long past any feelings for him. And here he was barging in again. “Does she, um, know I'm visiting?”
“Not yet,” Lily said. “I didn't get a chance to give her a heads up.”
“Oh.” He did his best not to fidget.
The young woman rested a hand on his arm. “It took her a few months to get over you when you left, but over time she's finally been able to speak fondly of your time together. I'm sure she'll be at least happy to know you're alive and doing well.”
A few months? After the cold goodbye she'd given him? Had that been her attempt at punishment for Pete leaving, or maybe her trying to be stoic and hide how much she was hurting? He'd barely been able to think of Kathleen in the last five years without feeling guilty, and knowing she hadn't handled things nearly as well as he thought only made it worse.
Especially since it hadn't taken him nearly as long to bounce back after their breakup. He absently reached up and gripped the ring around his neck, feeling even deeper pain than usual.
Lily tugged him forward, and he reluctantly followed her through a little gate and up the crushed gravel path to the front porch. “Wait here,” she said, slipping inside.
Pete fidgeted, turning to look around at the neat, peaceful neighborhood. There were even a few kids out playing in the late afternoon sunshine. Then he heard the creak of the door behind him, and turned to see Lily bouncing outside followed by a tall, athletic man who must be Bryce. Behind him came Kathleen.
Absurdly, Pete's first thought was that she had new glasses. His second was that the last five years had melted away the plumpness, leaving her face narrower and more mousy.
He was a terrible person.
Pete exchanged handshakes as Lily introduced him to Bryce. He shook Kathleen's hand as well, desperate to avoid the awkwardness of trying for a hug and hoping she'd do the same. She did, to his relief, seeming just as reluctant at even a handshake.
Then Bryce clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We were just about to sit down to dinner. Come join us.”
Pete did his best not to panic. That sounded like a truly awful experience, and from the cornered look on Kathleen's face he guessed she felt the same. Whatever Lily said, the newlywed woman didn't look very pleased that he'd come barging back into her life.
But before he could think of a graceful out Kathleen spoke up. “Please do. We'd love to hear what things were like in Saskatoon. As far as I know you only sent Lily that one batch of letters you'd written over the second nuclear winter, and it would be nice to hear about your life since then.”
Lily nodded eagerly. “And maybe we can break out a board game afterwards. Most of them are so much better with four people.”
Well shoot. Guess he was getting a home cooked meal.
It turned out to be a decent evening. Bryce and Lily carried most of the conversation, drawing Pete out of himself and convincing him to give a more detailed description of his time in Saskatoon. Pete had a few funny stories to tell, and plenty of anecdotes about the bitter cold and outrageously vicious storms and deep snows that anyone who'd endured nuclear winter could appreciate.
Kathleen was far more reserved than he'd ever known her to be, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. And least she was still a good cook, serving mashed potatoes, boiled beets, wilted greens, and even strips of roast wild turkey probably bagged not far from here. The meal was a bit sparse since Kathleen had obviously only cooked for three and was stretching it to go around.
Pete made it a point to be very complimentary, not needing to try too hard, and promised to treat everyone to dinner when he could.
After the meal they played a few rounds of team card games, Pete and Lily against Bryce and Kathleen. It did a good job of passing the time, and Pete could see the sun gradually sinking below the western horizon outside the window overlooking the kitchen sink.
Kathleen seemed to loosen up during the games, finally seeming to accept that Pete wasn't here to mess up her good life. She was affectionate with Bryce and Lily, and actually looked at Pete when she spoke to him.
Pete allowed himself to relax as well. Bryce was really an easy guy to get along with, which helped. He finally felt comfortable enough to congratulate the newlyweds on their marriage and wish them the best in it.
At which point, like he should've guessed, his inner demons surfaced and he ruined everything.
It started when Kathleen took her husband's hand and spoke almost shyly in response. “Thank you. We're finally in a comfortable situation to try for a baby.”
Pete knew the correct response to the situation, but old wounds stabbed at him more sharply than he'd expected. He cared for Kathleen, even after all this time, and she couldn't have said anything worse at that moment. “You're idiots, then,” he snapped.
Kathleen's smile slipped, and Bryce looked surprised for a moment before he started to redden. He looked to his wife for a hint, but she seemed just as bewildered as him.
As for Lily, she furtively glanced between all of them, clearly distressed at the steep turn this reunion had just taken. “Pete,” she said quietly. “Be nice.”
It was good advice, but as far as he was concerned he was being nice. “Canada's barely got a dozen hospitals scattered around, real hospitals, not military surgeries, and they're all back east. You're going to ge
t yourself killed if you're not close to a place that can give you real care.”
Kathleen's face had gone ashen, and she clutched at her husband for comfort. As for Bryce, he was definitely losing his cool. “Listen, dude,” he snapped. “I don't care what history you've got with my wife, you don't talk to her like that. You need to leave.”
Pete took a deep breath. He'd screwed this up, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I'll go. But please, think twice about this. About being close to a hospital, or at least an experienced doctor.”
He fled the house before anyone could answer, but of course barely made it ten feet down the street before Lily caught up to him.
“Kid?” she asked worriedly. “What the heck was that?”
Pete looked everywhere but at her. “It's nothing.”
“Nothing? You practically bit poor Kathy's head off!” The young woman tentatively reached for his hand. “What happened?”
He'd just trashed his friendship with Kathleen, and he couldn't bear the thought of hurting Lily too. But like a wounded dog he couldn't help himself. He yanked his hand away and snapped. “I don't want to talk about it.”
They walked in brittle silence for almost fifty feet. Finally Lily spoke up tentatively. “I'm sorry. I should've realized that even after all this time you might be jealous.”
“Jealous? You seriously think that's what I-” Pete cut off with a frustrated noise and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard enough to make lights flash behind them. He quickened his pace. “I need to get back to my squad.”
The young woman spoke timidly at his back as he fled. “Pete? Is this about, well, about what happened when you stopped sending letters?”
Pete staggered on even ground, and his hand snapped up to grab his ring. Abella's ring. He turned and looked at Lily, who was staring at him with sorrowful eyes. “I can't,” he said in a strangled voice. “I'm sorry, I-I can't.”
Nuclear Winter | Book 3 | Chain Breakers Page 24
