by Nathan Jones
Trev paused in the entryway to look around. As always when he really stopped to look, he felt equal parts pride and disbelief that they'd created all this with their own two hands. Of course Lewis had done the lion's share of the work in planning, purchasing materials, and working on the finishing touches, but Trev still felt a fair bit of satisfaction.
Lewis tossed him a towel. “It's a weak water stream and you're not going to like the temperature, but that should encourage you to hurry up so we can catch up.”
Trev nodded and made his way over to his bunk in the living space, which was made of a board and mattress sitting on top of food buckets for a base. Beside it was a trunk where he'd stored a lot of things he'd need if he ended up living here long term like clothes and blankets, as well as the rest of his ammunition sitting on the bottom. Since he'd been forced to ditch half of what he'd had up in Orem he now had 900 rounds of .45 ACP and .223 each. That had seemed like a lot at the time, but now he wondered.
Sometime soon he wanted to check and make sure the ammo hadn't gotten damp, but for the moment he pulled out a pair of boxers from an unopened 12-pack as well as a T-shirt from an unopened 6-pack, both of which he'd bought extra of while clothes shopping and had tossed in there in a rare fit of inspiration. He also grabbed an old but clean pair of jeans.
For all of Lewis's warnings the shower was equal parts unpleasant and glorious, although Trev was quick to soap and rinse and get out of the cold stream before he started shivering uncontrollably. Once he dried off and got dressed he felt like a human being again. The outdoor carpet Lewis had used for the floor, which could be swept if necessary, felt a bit uneven and gritty under his feet as if it hadn't been swept any time recently. That or the fact that it was in a shed buried underground with a dirt ramp leading up to a dirt clearing made it hard to keep clean. He'd either have to start wearing socks or slippers indoors or get used to the feeling.
Lewis was in the small kitchen space at the back of the shelter, but since the solar panels were working just fine Trev made his way over to the electronics array near the desk that served as his cousin's “office” and plugged in his phone, then gave his parents a quick call to check in and briefly explain what had happened and his hike down.
He also got news from them about how they and his younger brother and sister were doing. They were worried about things but optimistic, with the food storage he and Lewis had pestered them into getting as a strong buffer against the winter. Before he could mention heading up to Michigan to meet up with them, or urge them to come down to Aspen Hill and stay in the shelter, his dad beat him to the punch by insisting Trev stay there until things settled down, if they ever did.
“We'll be fine,” he promised. “You just worry about yourself for now.” And with a few final goodbyes and well wishes they hung up.
Not long after that Lewis came back into the living area and offered him a bowl. It was just canned chili heated over a camp stove, but after a week of jerky and trail mix the hot meal could've easily counted as one of the better ones Trev had ever had. He gulped it down as quickly as he could without seriously burning his mouth, and as he did Lewis filled him in on what had been happening in the outside world.
The news wasn't good. Trev had been expecting to hear about riots and looting, but the sheer breadth of the chaos still left him stunned. Especially when Lewis mentioned that the turning cogs of the Federal government had essentially abandoned Washington D.C. to the rioters. The nation's Capitol was tearing itself apart in a wave of mindless destruction and unchecked fires while the President and his staff had fled to the all-but impregnable Presidential command bunker. Meanwhile congressmen, senators, and various Federal agencies had all either hunkered down in their buildings behind security cordons manned by guards with serious crowd control measures who used them on anyone who came close, returned home to their own states, or fled to prepared fallback locations to continue desperately trying to keep the nation running as order and authority disintegrated around them.
FETF was becoming more and more of a presence, the only way cities were getting any sort of relief in the form of food and other much needed supplies, and more importantly taking over a lot of the crowd control duties that city governments depleted of fuel and in disarray in the chaos simply couldn't handle themselves.
Surprisingly the Utah and Salt Lake valleys were among the few dense population clusters left in the nation that hadn't reported any major chaos, but from the sounds of it they weren't far off. Trev could hardly believe that he'd left things relatively normal, and then while hiking incommunicado through sparsely populated areas the nation had fallen apart without him seeing a single sign of it.
As they talked Lewis naturally gravitated over to the back of the shelter and his most recent preparations, like he tended to do during conversations, and Trev followed. It looked as if his cousin still had about the same number of buckets he'd had when Trev was last around, roughly enough food storage to live four years on, but he'd added other things too.
Trev noticed a dozen bags of protein powder slung across the stack, and mentally cursed himself for not thinking of that himself. He had plenty of rice and beans, and he'd heard they were a decent replacement, but in the absence of meat and dairy that powder could really do a lot.
That reminded him of something else he should've worried about. “Have you checked my food storage lately?” He now had about 18 months' worth for himself, since a good chunk of it had been up in Orem with him and was currently buried 50 miles away, but the food in here was all he had left and he couldn't afford to lose any of it.
Lewis nodded. “Of course. I checked everything just after the attack a week ago. Your stuff is in good shape, no humidity or anything. It's a shame about what you had in your car but you'll get by.”
“Better than the people who came into this with nothing, thanks to your constant nagging to get prepared.”
Trev had meant that as a joke, but it wasn't really a subject for levity and his cousin just gave him a sober look. “After the Middle East Crisis a year's worth of struggling to stay financially afloat as food got more and more pricey strangled most people. They were barely buying enough to get them by to the next paycheck with no extra to fall back on. And that compounded the problem since with the decreased demand stores and restaurants brought in smaller shipments, meaning the cities had less food on hand.
“Pretty much the worst conditions for the attacks and the fuel cutting off completely. For most people what they have is it. The rest is all gone and there won't be any more. Food prices skyrocketed within the first forty-eight hours, for those stores quick enough to react, and a lot of riots began at stores or around government structures when people discovered there was no food to be found and went to demand a solution.”
“Yeah, although even this last year bulk prices for wheat, rice, beans, and other staples have been low enough that anyone with two cents to rub together could've stocked up at least a little,” Trev argued, thinking of his roommates and Matt and especially Nelson. “But it seems like as everyone watched food prices rise they started buying less food, day to day practically, as if some part of them couldn't justify purchasing at an increased cost and they were holding out for prices to go down again.”
He shook his head, looking at his cousin's huge stockpile and his own more modest pile alongside it. “It's almost like everyone was blindly going with the “buy low, sell high” policy for essentials with a disaster looming on the horizon. They should've seen where a steeply rising slope of fuel and gas prices could potentially lead and prepared for it however they could, but instead just about everyone I knew up at school seemed to double down on the hope that things would get better or at least stay where they were, and no collapse could possibly happen.”
Lewis sighed. “I hear you. Right up until the attack last week everyone was still laughing at “preppers”. And now they're all starving and it doesn't seem quite as funny.” Rather than looking satisfied by the vindic
ation of his viewpoints his cousin seemed resigned. “You know. In a perverse way I almost think it would've been better if this had all happened a year ago. It's like the last year weakened us to make this blow fatal, when if it had happened a year ago the nation as a whole might have managed to come out better, or at least lasted a few weeks more before things got really bad.”
A grim silence settled as they both looked over their preparations and contemplated what the nation had in store. Then Trev cleared his throat. “So what do we do now?”
Lewis shrugged. “Hunker down and survive in here. Although I have to admit I'm a little worried.”
“About the nation running out of gas and facing slow starvation and worse?” Trev asked with a grim smile, trying to lighten the mood with some dark humor. “Gee, I wonder why.”
His cousin shot him an irritated look. “I mean the fact that we're 75 miles away from a population center with millions of people who have zero food and none coming in, and with mountains to the east and desert to the west they've only got so many directions they can go. Even on foot that distance doesn't seem so far when you think of an endless wave of hungry mouths flooding over this entire area.”
Trev frowned. “I always figured they'd go north or south along I-15, or maybe try to make their way east along I-80 or Highway 40. Even Highway 89 through Sanpete county would be more understandable since it's fairly green and leads somewhere. But why would they head for Carbon county? There's nothing around here worth traveling towards besides maybe Price, and aside from where we're at along the greener strip below the mountains the area is so dry they can't be hoping to live off the countryside.”
“Highway 6 is a fairly big road, and refugees will be taking every road looking for somewhere to go. If nothing else they'll make for I-70 hoping it will take them somewhere where things are better. They can't stay where they are so they have to keep going, even if it's hopeless.”
“Okay so they'll be coming. But isn't that why we hid this place underground and between two hills, a pretty good distance away from Highway 6? They're not going to find it easily.”
Lewis shook his head. “I'm afraid that's not going to be enough. We're a half hour's walk away from the center of town, and even though Aspen Hill is well off Highway 6 on a smaller road we are on a road and people will eventually find us. Not to mention the City Council took Federal money to accept refugees in an emergency situation, so that's potentially hundreds of people coming right for us.”
“Wait, what?” Trev demanded. “Since when? This is the first I've heard of it.”
“Yeah well they weren't exactly broadcasting the information. Just the Mayor and council members knew, along with a few county and state people. But pretty much every rural town across the nation has the same sort of deal going, so even if they're keeping it hush-hush news is bound to get out if you know where to look. I'm not 100% sure about Aspen Hill, but I know for a fact other towns in Carbon county have taken the deal, and I'd be genuinely surprised to find any town that hasn't.”
Trev frowned. “Why? The Feds can't be giving out enough money to buy the supplies to actually help hundreds of people in an emergency situation for any length of time. Why would towns take a bad deal like that?”
“You really have to ask?” his cousin said with a grim smile. “The Federal government pushes pretty hard to get local governments to accept their money with all the strings attached, and you'll find corruption in small towns as often as in the Capitol. Besides, it's free money now on the promise of fulfilling future conditions. Shortsighted politicians almost always take that kind of deal.”
Lewis shook his head as if to clear his troubled thoughts. “But I get the feeling that a few hundred people sent this way are just going to be a drop in the bucket compared to the flood of refugees fleeing the cities. I don't know. I'm genuinely afraid that after all the work we put into this place we might have to abandon it after all.”
“And go where?” Trev demanded, not liking this line of thought at all. “We can defend this place if we have to. That's what our guns are for, right?”
“There are more people up north than we have bullets. Anyway do you really want to think about massacring a bunch of starving, desperate people, even if we could manage it without being overwhelmed and ripped to pieces? Even if they're trying to steal from us and maybe even kill us it's still a horrible thing to contemplate. Besides, if they managed to swamp Aspen Hill and all our neighbors ended up dead, either from direct violence or through slow starvation when the extra mouths eat all the food, what then? Wind up living next to the people who at worst murdered our friends and at best starved them out, or completely alone in a valley full of corpses?”
Lewis shook his head again, answering his own question. “No, we can't just count on ourselves. It would be safer and easier if we could, but we can't ignore the fact that we're a stone's throw from the people of Aspen Hill. We just need to make sure the town survives with us, and we'll all be stronger as a community anyway. If we can manage it.”
Trev felt a surge of relief. His cousin was extremely pragmatic, especially where the issue of preparing for long term survival was concerned. He'd been afraid Lewis would insist that they go it alone and leave their neighbors to their own devices. “So we're going to give away some of our food?”
“No, not if we can avoid it,” Lewis said hastily. “I don't want anyone in town knowing just how much food we have to keep them from getting any ideas. Besides, it may seem like we have plenty now, but three meals a day just between the two of us will do its work on even this stockpile. A town full of people would chew through it in weeks or even days. Besides, it's always good to keep the option of trading that food for things we need.”
“Okay, that makes sense I guess. So if not food then how exactly are we going to help the town?”
“We can volunteer our help doing whatever Aspen Hill needs: guard duty, manual labor, foraging, that sort of thing. Show we're part of the community.” His cousin abruptly straightened. “And tonight's a great opportunity to begin doing our part to make sure the the town pulls through.”
“How?”
Lewis held up his phone, quickly opening up a text message. “Town meeting, and only a week after the attack too.” That was said with some serious sarcasm. “Looks like Mayor Anderson has finally noticed society is crumbling around him.”
* * * * *
Matt was relieved to see the supermart was still open when he arrived. From some of the stories he'd heard from roommates who'd gone for groceries he'd half expected the place to be stripped bare.
It was almost odd to walk across a nearly empty parking lot, but even though there were no cars there seemed to be twice as many people as usual coming and going on foot. He nodded to a couple girls heading towards the major street and the sidewalk alongside it leading down the hill that he'd just come from, but they only clutched their purchases tighter, huddled closer, and gave him a wide berth.
From the looks of it they were carrying grocery bags filled with hair care and beauty products, and Matt couldn't help but wonder what possible use they thought they were going to get out of them. Maybe they'd originally come for food and felt they couldn't leave empty-handed.
Matt had no such illusions. He'd check the food aisles as he passed them, sure, but his goal was the sporting goods section. It occurred to him that a lot of things that would be useful for camping would be equally useful in a general survival situation.
Surprisingly, in spite of the larger than usual crowds the checkout lines weren't all that crowded. Had people just come to browse hoping they might find something useful? That seemed a waste of time to Matt, especially when he was feeling greater and greater urgency about leaving the city. He grabbed a cart and hurried into the store.
As he'd expected the food aisles were all bare, not so much as a sideways can or crumpled cereal box to be seen. Even so a few people were poking around the shelves, as if searching for places where food might have f
allen and been overlooked. Matt was more interested in a display of AA batteries in front of one aisle that still had several packs left. Into the cart they went.
When he reached the sporting goods section he immediately saw that the guns and ammo were all gone, nothing but bare shelves and empty gun racks. Either the store had pulled the items at the behest of the government or because they anticipated future trouble or all the guns and every single bullet had already been sold. The thought of the dozens of weapons those racks behind their locked cases had held and the ammo to shoot them tens of thousands of times being somewhere out in the city in the hands of who knew how many people with dubious purposes made Matt distinctly nervous.
Why hadn't he brought the Glock Trev had given him? This was exactly the time when he'd feel better about having it, but instead he'd left it in his room like a good law-abiding citizen entering a potentially lawless situation.
In front of the gun aisle was a stand filled with cans of bear spray, a spillover from the hunting and camping supplies the next aisle over. Matt couldn't help but notice that the spray was effective up to 30 feet and capable of incapacitating a full grown grizzly, at least according to the sign. It was almost funny to see that even though every single gun and round of ammunition was gone only a couple of the cans, which would be a very effective and mostly non-lethal method of self defense, were missing from the display.
Those seemed like just the sort of potentially useful trade goods Matt had come for, so he picked up the stand and dumped the dozens of cans into his cart. As he did a few passing shoppers tossed him dirty looks. “Did you want some?” he asked.
The only response came from a woman with a cart loaded up with blankets and sheets, who sniffed. “No, but you could at least save some for other shoppers.” Matt looked pointedly at her own cart, and she had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as she hurried on.
