Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1)

by Nathan Jones

  Mona drew herself up indignantly. “You're not even going to try to solve the crimes or bring the criminals to justice? What about your duty?”

  The officer's round face reddened. “At the moment my duty is to keep these refugees out and deny them any help. How do you think they'd take it after all that if I came barging into the camp asking questions and arresting people? I'd probably end up shot.” Mona opened her mouth to protest further and he continued angrily. “Besides, even if I wanted to bring law and order to a tent city filled with hundreds of people I just don't have the manpower. I'm having a hard enough time finding enough men to keep our borders secure, and it doesn't help that some people who've already committed to help have wandered off with excuses like searching for family in rioting cities.”

  That was obviously a barb about Matt and Trev going north to pick up April and her family, and Mona didn't miss it. She frowned for a few moments, then gave up and let the matter drop. “I suppose it is what it is. Any word on the towns farther south since the phones went dead?”

  Turner nodded grimly. “Chauncey Watson has been manning the shortwave radio at the town hall. Practically 24/7, even sleeping there most nights. He feeds me whatever news he picks up. It looks like to help with their relief efforts taking in all the refugees Price is trying to set up as the head of an interim local government with all the nearby towns. Problem is when I say all the refugees I mean all of them. Anyone who shows up, not just the ones they agreed to with the FETF deal.”

  The older woman frowned. “How can they manage that? We're having trouble just feeding ourselves.”

  The officer shrugged. “Well Price's guy on the radio claimed a convoy of food trucks coming up from the south ran out of gas ten or so miles out of town, which helped, but the truth is they're not managing. Price is practically begging hat in hand for any food or other aid Aspen Hill can send. Mayor Anderson personally got on the radio to refuse, and let me tell you if they were pissed at us for turning away our own refugees they're foaming at the mouth about us refusing to help them.”

  He paused as if thinking about it, then shook his head. “Looks like your husband and those cousins at the town meeting had the right idea when it came to turning away refugees. From the sound of things the towns south of us are going to be in some real trouble within the next few weeks, if not sooner. I just hope they can figure it out without dragging us into it. The guy on the radio mentioned that a lot of the refugees we turned away have made their way down there and are talking nonstop about how greedy Aspen Hill is to anyone who'll listen.”

  “Well if it's greedy to not share what you can't spare then generous sounds a lot like stupid,” Mona said with a sniff. “Glad the Mayor had the sense to say no, and I hope it stays the most used word in his vocabulary.”

  “Still, I feel bad for the folks down there,” Turner replied, scratching his stubbly chin. He had the good beginnings of a beard going, which made his face seem a lot less round. “They don't have the benefit of a naturally flowing spring like we do here so clean water is an issue for them. They were in a better situation fuel-wise starting out than we were, and they've done a good job gathering and hoarding all they could, but most of their what they've got is going to keeping the water purification and pumping stations operating to meet the area's water supply. Word on the radio is that they've actually cut power lines to keep people from drawing electricity, keeping just a few key buildings open for citizens to draw power from for vital services like washing clothes or gathering for social visits or just to have light to read by and do other stuff. They've been going with almost nothing for a lot longer just to reach where we're at with our spring.”

  “We don't have electricity either, though,” Sam pointed out.

  Turner glanced at her. “Well yeah, but for us it's just a major inconvenience. Once the towns farther south run out of power they're going to have the worst time getting the potable water they need, and that's resources and effort they'll have to divert from finding food. Add thousands or even tens of thousands of refugees into the mix and they're going to be in real trouble in no time flat.”

  A heavy silence fell as they all considered the grim situation. Then Mona abruptly shook her head. “Well I think that's enough doom and gloom for one day. Lots of work to be done, and I wouldn't mind finishing hauling this water home sooner instead of later. I'm not a sturdy young lady like you anymore, Sam. Good afternoon, Officer Turner.”

  Sam smiled at the comment as she followed Matt's mom back to the spring and with some work got the strap around her shoulders and picked up the heavy jugs. People might call her petite, or less politely short, but she couldn't think of any time she'd ever been called sturdy.

  But whatever physical challenges she had to face, she'd meet them head on and find a way to overcome them. This was the world she lived in now and she wasn't going to let it get the best of her.

  * * * * *

  The farther north Trev and Matt went the more refugees they encountered going the same direction as them.

  Of course even going at a steady walk they outpaced the others on the road, most of whom were bedraggled, exhausted looking, and usually carrying bundles of possessions or pulling wagons or luggage loaded up with whatever they thought was worth taking with them. Everyone seemed so intent on putting one foot in front of the other that even within groups of people there wasn't much talking, and anyone not part of the group was viewed with suspicion if they came close.

  Trev had felt hungry when they woke up, but once they started walking the feeling diminished for some reason, and while he felt a bit more tired than usual the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was still fairly straightforward. They kept going at about the same pace, and with one plodding step after another passed through Utah Valley and eventually put it behind them.

  Which was a relief since as bad as the glow of fires last night had been the sign of the devastation in daylight was even worse. They could see wildfires burning unchecked in the foothills above Provo, spread from the blazes below, and huge swathes of buildings were blackened husks. There was also an acrid tinge of smoke to the air that made him reach for his water bottle more often than usual, as much to wash the taste away as out of thirst.

  Aside from the roadblocks on the streets leading to the interstate Trev didn't see a single sign of life in that ruin, although they had heard distant pops of gunfire from somewhere in that direction earlier in the morning. At the sound of it all the refugees ducked their heads and walked a little faster, and Trev and Matt did the same.

  By the time they reached Thanksgiving Point in the early afternoon, roughly half of the remaining distance to Midvale, there were nearly as many refugees heading north as south. The FETF patrols had separated the two streams of humanity onto their own sides of the highway as if they were still following traffic laws, and either through habit or because most people huddled in the right lanes to stay farther from the armed soldiers Matt and Trev found themselves passing everyone in the left lane. Matt even made a lame attempt to start using bicycle turn signals when they had to leave the lane for some reason, although Trev had a hard time appreciating the attempt at humor.

  At this point he was definitely feeling weaker than he had during the previous days of walking, but either because his body was in starvation mode or because of the exercise the building hunger remained in the background, barely noticed. Still, he hoped April and her family were waiting at their house with all their food storage.

  The lack of meals was starting to take its toll, and even though they tried slowing down they still ended up having to take short breaks to rest every hour or so through the late afternoon. Matt was still also doing his best to check everyone's faces for any signs of his family, and if the FETF patrols had allowed it Trev was sure he would've walked on the other side of the highway to ask refugees if they had any news. Between those two factors they didn't reach Midvale until the sun was about to set.

  After yesterday's
experience at the roadblock Trev didn't bother with an off ramp. Instead he led the way to about the point where Matt said his sister's house would be two or three miles due east of them. Then, after checking to make sure no FETF patrols were nearby and they weren't in sight of any of the fortified law enforcement emplacements, Trev purposefully walked off the Interstate with no sign of furtiveness. Nobody tried to stop them or even call after them as they walked right up to the thick noise-canceling concrete partition, where with a boost from Matt Trev made it to the top then helped his friend over.

  They found themselves in a backyard and both crouched silently, alert for any signs of dogs or movement within the house. After waiting long enough to be confident they were probably safe Trev pulled out the can of bear spray he'd got from Matt and checked to make sure it was ready to fire, then put it back in his pocket and tried drawing and aiming it a few times.

  His friend watched, amused. “Dry fire practice with pepper spray?”

  “Easy to make mistakes when you're panicking. Had a problem with that when Nelson tried to mug me.” Trev pocketed the spray a final time and started cautiously towards the house, talking over his shoulder. “From now on we stick to cover, we don't talk unless absolutely necessary and try not to make any more noise than we have to, and we keep our eyes and ears peeled. Things don't look quite as bad here as they did down in Utah Valley, but in a way that could be even worse: people wouldn't have any reason to stick around burned down buildings but they might still be lurking here.”

  “Gotcha,” Matt whispered quietly, patting his shoulder for further confirmation. Trev nodded and continued forward.

  He'd learned his lesson from sticking to backyards when they'd encountered the dog yesterday, so this time he followed the front yards along the street, doing his best to stick to cover and dashing across any open spaces after careful checks to make sure nobody was around. In spite of his care he kept them at the best pace he could, for once pushing through fatigue in favor of speed: he wanted to make it to April's house before dark since having to use flashlights would draw unwanted attention.

  For the moment his biggest worry was intersections, since they'd have to be out in the open for longer and would be visible to prying eyes in several directions at once. At the first one they reached he carefully checked the streets to the left and right for any signs of movement, then tapped Matt's shoulder and whispered “You check right, I'll check left. Go fast and be ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.”

  His friend nodded and Trev came to his feet and started across the pavement at a lope, making for the fence of the large house on the other side with Matt hard on his heels. They were halfway across the intersection when his friend abruptly stopped, staring down the righthand street. “Oh no.”

  Trev immediately bolted for cover, reaching for his bear spray. He'd only gone a couple steps before realizing that Matt hadn't moved and didn't look afraid, so he slowed to see what had caught his friend's attention.

  He saw it immediately. Down that street the bodies of several dogs were scattered across front lawns and sidewalks, lying in pools of blood or with bloody trails from where they'd tried to drag themselves to safety. Their fur was matted and stained red, and from the injuries Trev could tell that the poor creatures been gunned down in passing, probably with an automatic weapon.

  Matt stared at the sight, looking a little sick. “I've heard about this,” he said quietly. “In a disaster people can't feed their pets, but they don't have the heart to put them down either so they set them free. The dogs can't survive on their own and form feral packs that attack any humans they encounter, so they have to be put down on sight.”

  Trev nodded. “Probably FETF or law enforcement.” Sad as it was to see so many once faithful pets slaughtered and left to rot, he couldn't really fault whoever had done it. The last thing he wanted was to run into a pack of starving dogs, especially not once they started traveling with Matt's young nephews, who'd be especially vulnerable to animal attacks.

  His friend abruptly shuddered and hurriedly finished crossing the intersection. As he went he pulled out his bear spray, holding it ready, and Trev was quick to do the same. Just in case the pack had been larger than those eight dogs and some had escaped and might still be lurking around.

  “I hate what's happened to the world,” Matt muttered as they continued on, glaring around warily for signs of danger.

  “Just think of home,” Trev advised, although he had to admit he felt the same at the moment. He couldn't wait to find Matt's family and get far, far away from the cities.

  By either luck, carefulness, or maybe because the area was deserted, they managed to make it ten blocks without even seeing anyone. Just as the sun set behind them they crossed another intersection to a block where all the houses had several papers taped to their front doors, and in spite of his caution and desire for haste Trev crossed over to the nearest house to read one. They were all white printer paper bearing the same single sentence in large font:

  “THIS RESIDENCE HAS BEEN EVACUATED TO THE ANTELOPE ISLAND FEDERAL EMERGENCY TASK FORCE CAMP.”

  Trev flicked the paper, snorting. “Fantastic. They might as well have put up a sign that says “Hey! Come loot these houses!”

  His friend ignored his dark humor. “It sure looks like April and Terry got taken there,” he mused, still staring at the notice. “But I still think we should check their house out just to be safe.”

  “Well duh, we're staying the night there anyway aren't we?”

  Matt opened his mouth to answer, but before he could the sharp crack of a nearby gunshot spun them both around. It was coming from a few streets over by the sound of it, but as more shots shattered the silence Trev bolted for the nearest cover in the opposite direction, his friend hard on his heels. He dove behind the concrete wall encircling the house and crawled on his elbows along it, staying behind its cover until the two-storey building was between him and the source of the gunshots.

  As soon as he was sure he was covered he pushed to his feet and bolted across the yard to vault the fence into the backyard of the house behind it, where he ducked down against the wall and sank into a sitting position with his back against it, panting.

  Matt sank down beside him a few seconds later. “I don't know if that was close but it scared me half to death,” he whispered.

  “Me too.” Trev sucked in a couple more breaths, fighting hard to calm himself. “You know what would be great to have right now? My 1911.”

  “Dude, seriously?” his friend demanded. “You want to go into that again here? Are you ever going to let it go?”

  “Sure. When I get my head blown off by someone I can't defend myself against.” Before his friend could think of a comeback Trev pushed up into a crouch and made his way cautiously across the backyard, looking around to make sure there were no threats in sight. When he reached the house he hugged the wall around to the front yard, where he stopped and turned to his friend. “We still going the right way?”

  “Yeah.” Matt started forward, taking the lead, and Trev obediently followed.

  They went another mile like that, as the light around them quickly faded to the point where visibility was starting to be a problem. About this time the street lamps should've come on, and it felt weird to be walking along without their light. Weird and definitely inconvenient, although Trev guessed they'd still manage to get where they were going before it became too dark to see.

  After another block the street they were following reached an elementary school, looming undamaged and silent in the darkness. The intersection in front of it was mostly blocked by the burned, blackened husk of a tipped over truck.

  “That's a FETF truck,” Matt said in a low voice, staring at the gutted wreck. Trev nodded. Today they'd seen their first moving vehicle in a long time, driving north fast along the left lane of the highway blaring its horn to get people to clear the way. An undamaged version of this one. His friend continued. “Do you think that was an accid
ent or were they attacked by rioters?”

  Before Trev could answer he saw movement in the back of the truck, and he froze and slowly ducked back behind the bushes they'd taken cover behind, peeking his head down low to see beneath the branches. A moment later a grimy, soot-stained figure in a hoody and jeans dropped down onto the street, clutching a garbage bag full of who knew what gleaned from the burned remains of whatever supplies the truck had held. The figure looked around furtively, then darted towards the nearest cover against the elementary school's wall.

  Before he reached it a chorus of howls rose from the direction he was running and half a dozen people burst through the school's front door, pinning the scavenger with flashlight beams. The figure froze like a deer caught in the headlights, and Trev caught a glimpse of a pale, dirty face beneath the hood. Then the would-be looter turned and sprinted the other way, clutching the garbage bag to his chest.

  His pursuers followed hard on his hills, still whooping and screaming in a way that made every hair on Trev's body stand on edge. They almost didn't sound human. The figure stumbled and in desperation threw his loot away, hoping they'd leave him alone, but only one of his pursuers stopped to grab the bag while the others sprinted after him.

  For about half a block Trev thought the guy was going to escape, but then he glanced back to see how close his pursuers were and a flashlight beam caught him right in the eyes. The scavenger flinched away, blinded but still running at a full sprint, and stumbled over a curb with a cry of pain. He went down hard clutching at his ankle, and in moments his pursuers closed the remaining distance, kicking him and beating him with bats, golf clubs, and gardening tools.

  The sheer brutality of the scene sickened Trev, and it went on way longer than it should have. He shut his eyes but the sounds were nearly as horrible, and he didn't dare move in the irrational fear that in spite of the fading light, the distance, and the noise the thugs were making one of them would see or hear him.