by Nathan Jones
He nodded, and the man finished backing out and disappeared.
Jane immediately scooted in to take his place, moving as carefully as if he was made of glass. “I don't think I've ever been this scared,” she said quietly, tentatively reaching out to rest her fingers on his cheek. Lewis could feel the dried mud caked on his skin cracking under her touch. “Especially when I heard what happened to Carl, and he was only a foot or so away from you.”
Lewis closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about Carl. “We accepted the risk when we started this.”
“That doesn't make it any easier.” Her hand drifted down to rest on his chest. “What if it'd been me in there, and you watching from above as the truck flipped?”
Lewis placed his hand over hers. That was another thing he didn't want to think about. “So the blockheads are really gone?”
His wife took a shuddering breath, regaining some of her composure at the change in subject. “The commandos? Martin and his people followed them far enough to confirm they seemed to be heading back north. The soldiers in the valley have either pulled out on Highway 6 or are back to defensive positions.” She hesitated. “Lieutenant Faraday and a couple hundred soldiers are here, too. The military is finally taking over defending this area.”
“Better late than never,” Lewis mumbled. He sounded more bitter than he would've liked.
Jane nodded. “They're insisting on blowing the canyon road. Faraday says it's a miracle we haven't needed to up til now, but it's time to stop pushing our luck.”
“Too bad I won't be there to see that. I was kind of looking forward to it.”
His wife's lips thinned worriedly. “If you tried to leave I'd pin you down. You need to rest.” She licked at her sleeve, then began wiping his face with it to clean off the mud.
Lewis endured the mothering stoically. “I probably look as if I rolled around in a pig pen,” he said. “I sure feel like it. Grit's chafing my skin pretty much everywhere.”
Jane finished doing what she could. “We'll get you washed up after you've rested a bit.”
“If you're willing to give me a hand I'd prefer to do it now. I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep like this.” That wasn't strictly true, considering the sharp headache and his physical and mental exhaustion. In spite of Terry's advice he was struggling hard just to stay awake.
But if he was going to crash for who knew how long, he preferred to get out of his body armor and filthy clothes and wash away the dirt. He could endure being up another few minutes for that.
Jane gave him a doubtful look, then nodded and crabbed her way out of the tent. “I'll get some water and clean washcloths.”
As soon as she was gone Lewis's focus fled, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He didn't know how long he laid like that before a shadow darkened the entrance to his tent. When it moved forward enough to cover his face he looked up at the figure crouched there, expecting to see Jane returning with the water. Instead it was a different redhead.
“Tam,” he said, half in greeting and half in anguished apology.
His friend's eyes were red and her face was splotchy from crying, but her expression was rigidly controlled. “Lewis. I'm glad you made it away from that in one piece.” Her words were sincere, but there was no warmth in her tone.
He looked away. “I'm sorry.”
She didn't answer. After an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever Lewis found himself drifting again, almost relieved to escape the scene. But before his thoughts could scatter too far Tam abruptly spoke up. “I'm done.”
He nodded, still unable to look at his friend. Even that slight motion was agonizing. He wasn't surprised by her decision, and he certainly didn't blame her.
Maybe she thought he hadn't understood, or maybe she felt the need to elaborate, because she continued. “Completely done, Lewis. With being a defender, with volunteering in any way. I'm all Jen has left. I need to focus on her now.”
He nodded again, but that didn't seem to be enough of a reply. The auburn-haired woman snorted bitterly. “I should've been done from the start. I didn't turn Matt down when he was looking for volunteers just to throw myself into the same mess here. Just to throw Carl into the same mess and get him killed.” She abruptly cut off with a strangled sob, and her voice was strained when she continued. “Sorry, but I'm done.”
Lewis couldn't find any words that could possibly be good enough, probably wouldn't have been able to say them even if he could. He closed his eyes, and moments later the shadow across his face disappeared. He heard the soft sound of Tam's footfalls as she walked away.
Sometime later Jane returned with the water and some clean cloths, zipping the tent door behind her. He couldn't think of anything to say to her, either, as she helped him with the excruciating process of stripping down to his boxers, then began bathing him with the cool water. And bless her heart, or her usual taciturn nature, she didn't feel the need to speak either.
Her hands were gentle as she tended to him, finishing by laying a damp cloth across his forehead, partly over the bandage Terry had tied around his head. Then she curled up at his side, resting his head gingerly against her chest, and pulled an unzipped sleeping bag up to cover them both.
“I screwed up,” he finally whispered.
His wife didn't answer, the perfect response. In the comfort of her arms Lewis finally gave in to the sleep he'd been fighting, gratefully sinking down into blackness.
Chapter Twelve
Homecoming
At Catherine's request Matt agreed to accompany Scott up to the refuge for Carl's funeral.
He was grateful for the chance to pay his final respects to his friend, although the Aspen Hill volunteers also held their own quiet gathering for him and the others who'd died once they heard the news. But at the same time he had a feeling the Mayor wanted him up there for more than moral support.
Trev seemed fine with taking over for him while he was gone, which was a relief. His friend's spirits had recovered a bit as he sank back into the routine of patrolling and scouting, and Matt couldn't help but notice that Trev also pushed himself and the others on duty to ever greater vigilance. As he put it he didn't want a so much as rabbit to bolt for its hole, anywhere on the mile-long slope they watched, without being noticed.
“You'll check in on Lewis, right?” his friend asked as Matt and Scott packed up their things. Catherine had obliquely suggested they might be up there long enough to need them. “And the rest of my family?”
Matt nodded. “I'd do that anyway.” He clapped Trev on the shoulder. “Chauncey says Terry's confident he'll be fine. And I'm sure everyone else is, too.”
He and the older man set off for the main camp, waving to acknowledge requests from other squad mates to pass on messages of their own to loved ones back home, and sympathies to those who'd lost loved ones that morning. And a more quiet plea from Alice to keep an eye out for Pete.
There was a lot more traffic along 31 with refugees pouring in from the north, and that had led to an increase in military vehicles coming and going. When Matt radioed in that they were headed north, one of Harmon's dispatchers from the main camp replied that a truck was headed that way soon. They'd hold the vehicle until Matt and Scott could get there.
It would be driving past a fair distance from the refuge, so they'd still have several miles to walk along the canyon road, but compared to going on foot all the way from camp it was a generous offer. And the dispatcher hinted that, with the military camp being set up next to the refuge, they might encounter some vehicle traffic to take them the rest of the way. Or at least company on the road as they walked, from soldiers marching to their new assignment.
The truck was still there when they reached the highway, a smaller pickup with its back open to the sky. Several soldiers lounged around it chatting, but as soon as they saw Matt and Scott they piled into the vehicle. Matt hopped in the back after three of them, then reached down to offer Scott a hand up.
“Sorry
to hold you up,” he said as they settled on the lifted tailgate, arranging their legs over the supplies piled in the bed. The truck was already lurching into motion beneath them, the wind picking up and turning the day from slightly warm to slightly chilly.
The soldier to his right, who looked to be in his late teens, waved that off. “Any excuse to take a break that doesn't come back on us is fine with me.” He glanced around the forested slopes as they rumbled up the highway. “You guys are locals, right? Nice view you've got around here.”
“Thanks.” Matt caught his balance as they went over a bump; if he wasn't careful he might end up flipping backwards and splatting on the road. “Have you guys been busy with the evacuation?”
The soldier to Scott's left, also in his late teens, laughed and spoke loudly over the roar of the wind. “Dude, you have no idea. Just wait, you'll see soon enough.”
The man was right. They didn't have to go far before encountering a vast tide of refugees. Hundreds, even thousands in view at all times, blocking both lanes and walking on the shoulders as they headed south. Or more like tottering in most cases, clutching meager bundles of possessions and struggling for every step. Of all ages and from all walks of life, as many were resting on the roadside as moving, and those in the truck's path only sluggishly parted to make way.
Some called questions, asking for news, and others begged food or other necessities. A few even asked to ride along, despite the fact that the vehicle was going the other way.
“They've already managed to make it this far south?” Matt asked quietly, incredulous. Even if these people had been undergoing a forced march, moving nonstop ever since leaving their camps in the Wasatch Range, he didn't see how it was possible they could've walked this far.
The soldier to his right shook his head. “Nah, that's not how General Erikson is handling the evacuation. These guys are from the camps near Fairview. The General's relocating them so the people he's bringing in can occupy that space.”
“Where are they going?” Scott asked. He was a bit gray in the face, same as he'd been ever since getting hit by the news of his son-in-law's death. At least he hadn't withdrawn into himself.
The young man shrugged. “From what I hear General Lassiter has been diverting as many people and resources as he can, to building new camps in time to take in these evacuees. Although they'll probably end up sleeping under the stars or beneath tarps for a while, and if they were hoping for rest they'll be disappointed. They'll need to help build their new homes and get the camps livable.”
“Any of them have a problem with that?” Matt asked. He knew he'd be pissed if he was told to march south while strangers took his home, especially if he couldn't expect anything at the end of that journey.
The soldier closest to the cab snorted. “Like you wouldn't believe. I'm glad I drew supply run duty instead of being one of the unlucky SOBs who has to herd these beggars around, making sure they all get where they're going in one piece.” As if to demonstrate he waved as they passed a group of four soldiers walking among the refugees. The men waved back, looking a bit resentful.
Matt didn't share the apparent humor. He'd been on the other end of the situation, and he knew what it was like to be one of the “beggars”.
Their going was slow through the crowd of refugees, and slowed down even more every time they encountered a vehicle coming the other way. Matt soon got used to the driver's impatient honks as they inched along at barely ten miles an hour. Although he constantly had to remind himself that if they weren't in the truck, they'd be lucky to be going a quarter that pace.
Matt didn't even need to tell the driver to stop when they reached the canyon road. He just nodded goodbye to the soldiers and vaulted over the side of the still-moving truck, stumbling slightly from the weight of his pack as he landed. Then he ran next to the vehicle so Scott could hand down his own pack, and a moment later the older man joined him on the ground.
There were a few soldiers lounging by a makeshift roadblock across the road, who nodded as the two of them approached. “I'm guessing you're not refugees,” one said, looking over their gear. “Irregulars?”
Matt nodded. “What's all this?” he asked, pointing at the jumble of logs.
The soldier shrugged. “We've already got two thousand people filling up the accommodations along this road. Aside from special cases we're turning everyone else away.”
Two thousand. That was almost three times Aspen Hill's population. And the refuge had been struggling to begin with. “Special cases?”
Another shrug. “It's a pretty quiet, out of the way place. Good place for a few treatment wards.” The man straightened and motioned to his companions, who quickly began tossing logs off the road. “Speaking of which . . .”
Matt followed his gaze north along the highway, to where another truck was headed their way. This one had a solid shell over the back and was more boxy. It also had the easily recognizable symbol of the Army Medical Corps on the sides. “Treatment?”
The soldier nodded. “Mostly wounded from the fighting, but I hear they're thinking of bringing in the radiation sickness patients from the north, too.”
So not just a refugee camp, but also a field hospital. “They're putting all that at the refuge, just up the mountainside from Aspen Hill Canyon?”
The soldiers, who'd finished moving the logs and were standing beside the road, exchanged blank looks. “You mean that civilian camp with the displaced town, by where Faraday's camp is going up? Nah, that would be putting wounded and refugees way too close to the front lines.” The spokesman waved lazily over his shoulder. “The main camp is going to cover a few meadows not too far from here.”
“Ah, okay.” Matt thought he remembered the area from the few trips he'd made along this road. Those meadows were lower elevation, secluded and far enough away from the front that they'd probably be safe from aircraft. Especially with a military base between them and the blockheads.
The truck stopped beside the road so the driver could greet the soldiers manning the roadblock. While they chatted Matt moved around to the passenger window. “Think we could hitch a ride?” he asked.
The medic frowned. “Sorry, we're full up with wounded. Unless you want to hold onto the back or something.”
Matt glanced at Scott, who shrugged. “That's fine.”
“Hop on, then.”
They circled around the truck and stepped up onto the back fender, holding onto racks that held stretchers. The double back doors also each had a small window, through which he could see that the vehicle had twelve narrow cots, six on each side stacked three high and two long in the cramped space. The wounded lying on the cots gave him strange looks as he glanced in, and he awkwardly waved. Only one waved back, making the situation even more uncomfortable, so he repositioned himself so he wasn't looking inside.
The truck only went about another mile along the road before passing the makeshift refugee camp coming together there. The two thousand refugees were all seated in clumps on the grass, only a hundred or so of them busy building shelters or otherwise preparing the camp, aided by a few dozen soldiers. The rest looked listless, exhausted or hopeless.
The vehicle continued on a few hundred yards more, to where several large tents had been constructed next to a stream. Fires had been built close to the water, and over them large vats hung boiling water for use. Medics, nurses, and orderlies in white bustled around hard at work, and unlike the refugee camp nobody was sitting idle.
Matt and Scott still had six or seven miles to go to reach the refuge, but older man assured him he could keep up the pace so they'd get there by dark. They started walking, leaving the field hospital behind.
After about an hour another truck rumbled down the road in the same direction they were going, carrying a load of soldiers headed for the military camp. Like with the hospital truck Matt got them permission to tag along, squeezing in at the end of the benches with their packs on their laps.
This truck's covering tarp
had been removed to give those in back a view and some fresh air, probably since they didn't expect to go fast enough for wind to be a bother. Thanks to that Matt got his first few of the refuge as they drove up.
The military camp wasn't quite as extensive as he'd expected. Neatly laid out tents for two hundred or so soldiers, a few mess tents, and a small motor pool with a few vehicles. Even though it was just after the dinner hour there wasn't much activity around the camp itself, and he got the impression the soldiers were out familiarizing themselves with the new territory they'd been assigned.
Although the flurry of activity at the refuge, hidden on the forested slope nearby, more than made up for it.
Hastily created, the camp beneath the trees was just as quickly being taken down. The former residents left behind only bare spots of packed dirt swept of branches and pine needles, buried garbage pits, and fire rings full of ash. For the moment all the townspeople's possessions were being stacked in piles, to be carried away in whatever wagons and carts they could scrounge up.
The people of Aspen Hill were getting ready to move, and he hadn't heard anything about it.
After hopping off the truck and starting for the camp his first instinct was to find Sam and the rest of his family, to ask what was going on. But they hadn't gone half the distance before Catherine, Tam, and young Jen spied them and rushed over to pull Scott into a group hug.
Jen clung to her grandpa in near terror, as if losing her father and witnessing the grief of her mom and grandma had overwhelmed her young mind. Catherine was weeping openly, while Tam had broken down into wracking sobs. Matt stood back from the reunion a respectful distance, feeling equal parts awkward and awful.
After a few minutes Catherine broke away from her family, leaving Scott to comfort the other two, and came over to Matt. “Thank you for coming,” she said quietly, folding him into a hug.
