Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1)

by Nathan Jones

  The patrol car roared out after the miscreant, lights already on as he wove through traffic and forced the SUV to pull over for a ticket. Unfortunately that meant everyone who'd just turned left had to shift lanes to accommodate the slowing vehicles, which wasted more time than if the asshole had just waited two more seconds.

  In spite of his satisfaction at seeing the SUV's immediate karma Trev had to wonder why the police were bothering with traffic stops in this situation. With fuel so scarce all law enforcement and emergency vehicles should've been back at their respective stations, only brought out when they were truly needed. Maybe the local government had decided that keeping order on a day like today was important enough to justify the waste of gas.

  Or maybe they were just super eager for the extra revenue from that ticket in an economy that was about to collapse.

  Either way Trev had his own problems as he drove for the next nearest gas station only to find it also closed down even though its lot was packed with cars searching for fuel. He kept going to another one just down the street and it was closed too. Common sense told him today wasn't the day for exercises in futility, but Trev wasn't about to give up on his idea just yet so he kept going looking for more stations.

  It was the same for the next one he tried, and the one after that. On the sixth gas station he finally gave up and turned at the next light to make his way back to campus by a different route so he could try the gas stations along it and maybe get lucky, although at this point he wasn't holding his breath. The change had been too sudden, and he'd been caught unable to adjust from a world of plentiful, if expensive, gasoline to one where it couldn't be found anywhere for any reason.

  Sure, there'd probably be a burgeoning black market for the stuff soon, but he had no idea how to even go about finding that sort of thing, and anyway he didn't need it enough to justify the effort. He had enough to get home, which meant the extra he'd been driving around looking for was just his hoarder instincts kicking in to stock up on something that was no longer available that he might have a serious use for later but probably wouldn't.

  Once he got to Aspen Hill he didn't plan to do much traveling until this all blew over. If it did.

  The dense traffic certainly wasn't helping his mounting frustration as the minutes ticked slowly by and the rumble of his engine reminded him that precious gas was being burned away the entire time. Trev did his best to control his temper as he drove past another packed station with a row of closed pumps. All that time, and more importantly fuel, wasted searching for an open pump when he should've realized it was pointless in the first place.

  The street he was on took him past a supermart, and on impulse Trev pulled into the parking lot and searched for a spot close to the entrance. If he couldn't get gas he could at least use his remaining funds to purchase some stuff he might need to survive while stores still had stocked shelves, before the trucks stopped coming in and everyone realized how much they needed those necessities and began hoarding them towards their own survival.

  Which may already be happening. Since the gas stations had been crowded it was unsurprising that the store, too, was crammed with people looking to stock up for lean times. People who in retrospect had probably made the right choice compared to everyone still trying to find any gas that hadn't been seized.

  He made his way into the store, and in spite of himself was a bit surprised by the commotion.

  Over the years he'd seen videos from before hurricanes where people descended on stores like locust swarms to fill their carts with every single edible thing on the shelves, even pet food. He'd assumed since this current disaster wasn't quite so obviously immediate people wouldn't be as voracious. But from the long lines of customers waiting to go through checkout with food items spilling from their carts, it looked as if even if they didn't realize just how bad things had gotten they'd still decided to err on the side of caution.

  Trev grabbed his own cart and made a beeline for a specific aisle. From what he could see the locusts still hadn't picked the store bare just yet, but more importantly they were going for all the wrong things. The carts around him were filled with perishables from around the edges of the store, fruits and vegetables and dairy and meats, as well as heaping piles of freezer bags and cartons from the frozen food aisle. Stuff that was easy to prepare, especially if you had a microwave, but would eventually go bad even if their fridges kept working.

  And with no fuel there was no telling how long the power would be on.

  A few of the more levelheaded shoppers were going for canned goods, which was obvious from the huge bare swatches on the shelves when he arrived at his aisle of choice. Unlike the other shoppers who'd grabbed specific items Trev was indiscriminate as he shoved his arm to the back of a shelf and literally swept the cans from it into his cart as he walked down the aisle.

  Near the end the shelves were lined with plastic bags of rice and dried beans which looked as if nobody had taken any at all, a regrettable oversight on their part considering how long those foods would last if properly stored. And they were also some of the cheapest products in the store! Trev abandoned his hunt for cans and gathered up as much rice and beans as the cart could carry, making a hill that rose over its walls so bags threatened to slide off with every movement.

  Not finished there, he began gathering the boxes of cans tucked at the back of some of the upper shelves and shoved them into the bottom space above the wheels. A part of him wished he'd grabbed another cart, but he was pretty sure that would've been unmanageable. Besides, he didn't know if he had enough money even for what he had here.

  At long last he made his awkward, wobbly way to the front with his cart, catching bags as they fell and stopping once to adjust everything. His only other stop along the way was to pick up a few cases of bottled water that he awkwardly balanced on the pushbar leaning against his chin. By that point the cart was so weighted down it was actually slightly difficult to push and the wheels squeaked alarmingly as he went, and he couldn't help but notice a lot of people giving him odd or amused looks. Although some were looking at their own carts piled high with junk food and cereal as if having second thoughts. Those odd looks made the wait in the checkout line uncomfortable, but finally it was his turn to start stacking things on the conveyor belt.

  The cashier gave him a dirty look as she finished ringing up the previous customer, which Trev ignored as he piled the belt higher and higher. He had a feeling she was going to be even more annoyed with him soon.

  With gas prices doubling over the last year prices for just about everything else had jumped up too, in some cases several times more than they'd been. Food especially, which he was seeing at the moment as his purchases were rung up and he saw the outrageous numbers flashing across the screen. Ironically smaller stores that tried to draw from local sources of dairy and produce were now competing nearly as well as the retail chains that shipped things a far greater distance. He'd heard that some of those big name stores in smaller towns had begun closing in droves, as many as one a day, while business was still thriving for the local marts.

  Of course since trucks didn't have fuel to bring in goods it wouldn't be long before every store closed, and even before that the outrageous prices he saw today would look reasonable compared to how they'd skyrocket as the shelves emptied. Assuming store managers reacted fast enough.

  “Can you just ring me up to $143.00?” he asked the cashier as she whipped things across the scanner, the total already over $50.00. She paused to glare at him, forget that the customer was always right, and he felt almost bad as he continued. “And then can you ring me up another $275.00?” That was the cash he had in his wallet and the balance on his debit card, respectively. “The rest you can ring up on my credit card.”

  “Dude, are you kidding me?” one of the customers behind him demanded.

  Trev turned and gave the man a level look, then turned back and noticed the cashier hadn't started again. “Look, sorry for the hassle but it's the only wa
y I can do this.”

  “Maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to singlehandedly host Cinco de Mayo,” the same customer back in the line said snidely, glaring at the bags of rice and beans overflowing on the belt.

  Trev ignored him, also weathering the cachier's glare as he waited for the older woman to start ringing him up again. “I knew I should've called in sick this morning,” she finally muttered as she got going again. Thankfully she did as he'd asked and tallied up three separate bills for his different payment methods.

  Which took even longer than he'd been afraid of, to the point that he was worried a riot would start in the line before she was done. By the time he swiped his credit card and waited for it to authenticate for the final purchase people back there were openly swearing at him, using some pretty foul language too. The girl directly behind him had even intentionally rammed her cart into his back twice. He was glad his card didn't reject the large purchase or someone might have shanked him with a carrot.

  The three totals added up to just over a thousand dollars, which put him firmly into debt. At this point he hoped he was right and the economy actually collapsed, or he was going to have to do another summer's work installing security systems just to pay off his credit card debt. Then he felt bad for hoping for a disaster even if it was almost certainly going to happen.

  He thought he might still have a bit more money on his card before hitting the limit, but as he helped the bagger finish loading up his cart and started out of the store he decided he'd pushed his luck far enough and it was time to pack up his goods and head down to Aspen Hill.

  It felt good to load everything into his car and see how much space it took up. That was a lot of meals he'd be taking down to the shelter with him, which made him feel better about the fact that his own food supply there wasn't nearly as large as his cousin's. Considering what he'd seen of Lewis's preparations last time he'd been down there even this wouldn't come close to evening things up, but he'd be better off than he otherwise would've been.

  All in all he felt pretty good about the morning's efforts, even if he hadn't been able to buy any gas. The only thing left to do in the city was drive back to his dorm and load up all his possessions.

  * * * * *

  Trev had intentionally saved his room for last because some of his most valuable stuff was in there. He hadn't wanted it sitting in his car while he was away doing something else because losing some of those items would be really painful in a survival situation.

  Which he was continuously reminded of as he pulled everything from his closet, where he'd meticulously packed it into every spare inch of space, and piled it all on his bed.

  He had his backpack, expensive even though it was military surplus, which he'd carefully loaded with gear and supplies for an extended hike. Among other things was a self-inflating sleeping pad, a compact lightweight sleeping bag rated for 30 below zero, a one man tent, a quality hatchet, 2 pairs of merino wool long underwear, a change of clothes he'd picked out to be durable and warm, the best pair of hiking boots his cousin could find in his research that Trev had already spent some time breaking in, 5 pairs of merino wool socks, a top rated camping water purifier and extra replacement filters, a merino wool balaclava, and a quality pair of ski goggles for intensely cold weather.

  He also had enough food for two weeks in there, food that was designed to be convenient to eat while traveling that also gave good energy like jerky, vacuum sealed dinners, a trail mix of dried fruit and nuts, energy bars, and peanut butter. The last major item of consideration was a reasonable amount of ammo for his two firearms, where weight was a concern on a long trip. The rest of the pack was filled in around the bigger stuff with toiletry items, a large variety of firestarters, a sturdy folding knife for chores around camp and a heavier skinning knife, flashlights and candles and an electric lantern, and fifty feet of thin nylon rope with carabiners he could clip to his belt.

  Trev hadn't researched or shopped for most of the stuff, since Lewis had been preparing his own pack and Trev had just convinced him to send along all his recommendations so he could get the same things. To his chagrin he hadn't even used any of it enough to really familiarize himself with how it worked. For the more complicated stuff like the tent and the water filter he'd left the instructions in so he'd at least be able to figure them out if necessary, but learning to use everything had always been one of those things he'd intended to do but hadn't found time for.

  One of his regrets, especially now, was that he'd never even had a chance to go out on an extended camping trip with the pack and really test himself and his preparations and, if need be, weed out the stuff he didn't need. Lewis had gone on a few trips like that and had invited him to come along, but Trev had always been busy with school or other stuff and couldn't spare a week or even a few days.

  He supposed his opportunity to make up for that oversight had arrived now that he was in a real disaster situation. Assuming he didn't end up regretting his lack of familiarity with stuff he really needed.

  But that was just his pack. In his closet he also had a complete set of serious winter gear, the kind you could practically live in outside in the heart of winter if need be, enough buckets of wheat, beans, and honey to last him six months, with the other year and a half's worth of food storage already down at the shelter with Lewis, bottles of olive oil to go along with it, a 50lb box each of peanuts, cashews, walnuts, and pecans, the remainder of his thousand rounds and half a dozen magazines for each of his firearms, gear to properly carry, store, clean, and maintain his firearms, along with extras of the parts that wore down quickest, a good pair of binoculars, several unopened tarps and four thick wool blankets, a propane stove, a propane lamp, several extra propane tanks, a floodlight, and half a dozen road flares. He also had a few boxes of MREs he'd gotten cheap.

  Between the MREs, the nuts, the olive oil and the buckets he figured he had nearly a year's worth of food, plus however many months extra he could stretch out the stuff he'd gotten at the store. Most of it he'd gotten fairly inexpensively, and now that he looked at it and thought of the tough times ahead he was intensely grateful for his forethought. Everything else seemed less daunting, knowing he had enough food for difficult times.

  Most of the other stuff in the closet was, like with his pack, things Lewis had recommended or had been buying and had offered to let Trev go in with him on. Trev had joked several times that even though he paid for his own stuff he still felt like he was taking advantage of all his cousin's hard work, to which Lewis had always replied that knowledge was free and it was more than worth it to have him prepared too.

  The final thing he pulled from his closet, resting it carefully atop the buckets beside the bed, was the locked hard case containing his .223 Mini-14 tactical rifle. He and Lewis had purchased their 1911s together a few years ago, and since then his cousin had purchased several other useful and very valuable guns and several thousand rounds of ammunition for each along with a dozen spare magazines where applicable. But unlike his cousin, once he'd got his Mini-14 Trev considered himself to be set for personal defense.

  Aside from personal items like clothes, electronics, books, and assorted small odds and ends that was everything Trev had in his room. Most of what he'd left down in his and Lewis's shelter in Aspen Hill was more buckets of food and stuff he mainly intended to use while living in the shelter.

  Trev inspected everything, judged how many trips it would take to get it all to his car, then shrugged into his pack, snapped closed the waist belt, and picked up his rifle case and a few bags full of boxes of ammunition to take out first. He wanted to get all the stuff that would draw immediate attention into the trunk of his car and out of sight before he really began moving things, since those were his most valuable possessions and some people would make a big deal out of a gun, even one being responsibly stored and handled.

  Before moving in he'd asked ahead with dorm management about storing firearms in his room and had been assured that
it would be okay as long as they were unloaded, stayed in locked cases, and he never brought them onto campus for any reason or took them out of their cases on the dorm premises. When he showed them his concealed carry permit they said it would be okay to carry concealed to and from his car if he was going somewhere else, but that was as much as he could expect so close to a university campus.

  With thoughts of avoiding potential trouble about his firearms in mind he nodded to his roommates Jim and Connor in the living room but didn't stop to chat, hurrying out into the hallway and making for the nearest exit to the parking lot.

  His presence didn't go unnoticed, although fortunately nobody freaked out. But as he left the building and walked down the sidewalk towards his car he heard a few catcalls from windows and from guys playing frisbee or kicking back on lawn chairs. A couple did their impressions of survivalist nutjobs, talking in old coot voices about how the world was ending, the woooorld was endiiiiiiiing. A few even started singing famous songs about the end of the world.

  Trev ignored them all. If they weren't smart enough to get out within the next few weeks, or at least take steps to ensure their survival, they wouldn't be laughing for long.

  He quickly reached his car and opened the trunk, shoving his gun case inside and then shrugging out of his pack. He'd tossed it inside and was pushing it to the back when he saw someone he recognized walking across the lot towards the dorm from the direction of campus. He recognized the sandy-haired man and paused to wave. To his surprise Nelson waved back, and then even though the two hadn't spoken for over half a year turned and made a beeline for him.

  Nelson DeWitt had been one of Trev's classmates in Statistics during the Middle East Crisis. The two had shared a study group and he'd talked to the guy a bit, and after the bombs fell the group had spent long hours discussing world events and Trev had even talked with them a little about preparing for a disaster closer to home. He wasn't exactly friends with the man, but not just acquaintances either. What immediately popped into Trev's head when he saw the guy, though, was one of the more memorable conversations they'd had near the end of the semester, and one that was hard to not think of under the circumstances.