by Nathan Jones
“If we can survive this winter,” Trev said, but after the exceptional day they'd had his heart wasn't in the dour words. And as he took another bite off his own skewer he paused for a moment to enjoy the taste, same as he had for every bite, and feel some satisfaction that this meat was about as fresh as it came and he'd cooked it. He'd be even more satisfied with the next deer, perhaps even one he brought down himself, knowing he'd be the one to do everything to prepare it the way his cousin had this time.
Lewis leaned over to clap him on the shoulder. “We'll survive it,” he promised. “And when we do we'll know we can survive anything.”
Chapter Two
Civility
The ration line Ferris had set up at the town storehouse allowed anyone who came through it to receive a day's worth of food once a day, no restrictions or reservations.
Assuming you were a refugee, of course. The residents of Aspen Hill had to be green-lighted to get on their own special list, and the only way to do that was to allow the FETF soldiers to “inspect” their house. Ferris's justification was that if they were hoarding in excess of two weeks' worth of food then they didn't need the ration line.
Considering that FETF was giving out the townspeople's own food that reasoning rang completely hollow to Sam, but incredibly enough there were plenty of Aspen Hill residents who accepted it. The Larsons hadn't, thankfully, and although Ed had hidden what food the family had he still refused to submit to an inspection, or for that matter try to get rations from the line. He wasn't about to give up their food, but he wouldn't lie and claim they didn't have any, either.
Sam admired their independence and integrity, but she couldn't join them in their silent boycott. For all of the family's insistence that she was one of them she couldn't shake the knowledge that she was a burden, so she used her refugee status to stand in line every day and receive her pound and a half of coarsely ground wheat flour. Between that, Mona's garden which they harvested the moment things in it became ripe enough, and whatever foraging of weeds or other edibles they managed in town, they'd managed to keep the hidden food in reserve.
As for Trev's cache up on Highway 6, one of their main topics of conversation was finding a way to get it down to Aspen Hill. That was hundreds of pounds of food they had to move, not only having to worry about actually transporting that much but also avoiding those who'd want to steal it from them.
Since Matt's father had lost his hunting rifle at the roadblock and Matt's pistol had been confiscated in Spanish Fork they had nothing but the bear spray to defend themselves. Even more worrisome was the knowledge that Razor and his goons were waiting out beyond the town's limits. Even though there'd been no reports of attacks by them in the last week Sam had no doubt that they were still there, working their villainy quietly and in ways that avoided notice.
Mona, April, and Terry argued that between their garden, what they could forage, and the little remaining in their pantry they could last a bit longer, and maybe wait until there was a better opportunity to go retrieve the cache. Their main argument was that when it got colder the flow of refugees along the highway would slow to a trickle. Matt had argued that that might not even be a good thing, since it would just make them more noticeable. Ed wanted to try finding backroads through the foothills and mountains to bring the food down, a position Matt had ended up leaning towards. As for Sam, she was willing to go with whatever the family decided and had offered to help with whatever they ended up doing.
When Sam started going through the ration line April and Terry had tried to go through as well, but even though they were technically just as much refugees as her they'd been refused with the explanation that they were living in the home of family members, and so the same conditions applied for them as for the Larsons. To solve that problem they'd talked to Mayor Anderson and got his permission to move into the house abandoned by Councilman Watts. They'd been happy to let FETF inspect their new home to their hearts' content, at which point there was no more trouble with them and the ration line.
Sam had been standing in that line every day for a week now, and had recently received her day's rations. Mrs. Harris had been waiting in line not far ahead of her, and even though the Larsons' house was just a block away she felt like it was only kind to volunteer to help the elderly widow back home. Especially since Mrs. Harris had been so generous in letting her help harvest her root crops and earn some badly needed food storage.
So they'd gone arm in arm west along the streets with Sam carrying both sacks of flour, towards the outskirts of town. The chat along the way was pleasant, and although Sam asked at the old woman's front door if there was anything she needed Mrs. Harris staunchly insisted she had things under control, thanked Sam, and pecked her on the cheek before sending her on her way.
Once back on the street Sam paused to collect a few dandelions beside the road, not looking forward to the bitter taste but definitely looking forward to the added nutrients. Yesterday they'd managed to collect enough that they could save some of her wheat, although that had mostly been a fluke thanks to Matt finding a Potawatomi plum tree growing along the banks of the stream that flowed down out of Aspen Hill Canyon and curved south to follow the town's southern border.
The little fruits were sour enough to make her mouth pucker, but she'd eagerly eaten her portion along with everyone else. Even April's boys had seemed to enjoy the unexpected treat, and the expressions on their little faces on the first bite was just too adorable for words. Matt was back there today searching for more, and she fervently hoped he'd have some luck.
Sam frowned, thinking of the tall young man as she searched around for more dandelions. She definitely liked him, no questions there, and she was almost certain he liked her too. But first he'd left for weeks to bring back April's family, which she certainly understood, and since then he kept taking a slow, cautious approach to things that made her want to grab him by the ears and scream in his face to hurry up and do something already.
She supposed she couldn't blame him when they had so many more pressing things to worry about, and it was hard to think of a romantic future with someone while worrying about whether you were going to starve to death within the month. But with how chaotic and uncertain everything had become Matt was one of the few calm and certain things in her life, and she just knew that it would be much easier to deal with whatever problems they faced if they were well and truly together. Couldn't he see that?
“Well aren't you a cute little thing?”
Sam jerked her eyes up from the ground and around to look down the street she was on, freezing in pure panic when she saw three men approaching. Her instincts told her to run but the only way she could go was west, away from the Larsons' house, and she was already at the outskirts of town.
Her panic only increased when she saw that the small, nondescript man who'd spoken had his hands thrust deep into his front pockets. That was enough to recognize Razor, the same man who'd robbed Matt and April's family and had hurt Terry.
While she'd stood frozen the man and his two friends had continued to saunter her way, the bigger goons circling around to either side of her in case she suddenly tried to bolt. Sam regretted her decision to not run when she had the chance, but she'd never been a very fast runner and she was certain if she tried now she'd be quickly caught by the longer-legged men.
Besides, she had the bear spray Matt had given her in her pocket. Maybe she could brave it out and get past them and just go home. Razor hadn't seemed to want to hurt the others when he'd robbed them and had only sprayed Terry when he talked back. Not to mention it was broad daylight, and even if she was close to the outskirts she was still in town, with houses visible in every direction.
“Are you lost, miss?” the nondescript man said. “Or maybe you need a place to stay?”
“I'm fine,” she said politely, starting forward past him. “Excuse me, I need to get home.”
A hand that wasn't much larger than hers closed around the forearm of her hand ho
lding her daily ration, stopping Sam's forward progress, and she felt her flesh crawl under his unexpectedly iron grip. “Got your day's worth of gritty flour, eh?” he said, still in that same pleasant tone. “Bet you're sick of just eating that for every meal, and it hurts my soul to see an unhappy woman. Wouldn't you like a proper meal?”
Sam's heart was beating out of her chest, but she did her best to keep from shaking as she pulled her other hand out of the sleeve of her coat and pointed the bear spray at him. “Let me go.”
Razor threw back his head and laughed, but at least he let her go. “No need to get scared and start threatening people, sweetie. I just wanted to know if you'd like to work for me out in the camp. I guarantee you'd eat better than anyone in town, and the work's so easy you can practically do it lying down.” He winked lewdly. “Or literally.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about and the thought filled her with disgust. Especially after he'd put his hand on her. “No thanks, I'm doing fine.” She lifted the bear spray a bit higher and took a step back, opening her mouth to tell him to leave her alone.
That step slammed her right into the chest of one of Razor's thugs, who'd moved to stand directly behind her, and Sam barely had time to squeak before the large man plucked the bear spray from her hand. “There, that's more like it,” Razor said. “A sensible girl like you should really know better than to threaten someone, especially these days. I'm perfectly within my rights to defend myself if I'm threatened, although I'd rather not hurt a woman.”
Was he seriously trying to pretend that she was threatening him? Sam tried to step away from the thug, only to feel his heavy hands on her shoulders pinning her in place. “I'll scream,” she warned.
Razor grinned and put his hands in his pockets, and Sam felt a sudden surge of dread. While describing their encounter with the bandits on the way home Matt had told her why the nondescript man liked to have his hands in his pockets, and what he kept there. Her dread turned to alarm when he started to pull one hand out again, obviously holding something.
Before he could complete the motion a taller figure slammed into him from the side, seemingly out of nowhere, and bore the bandit leader to the ground. Sam felt an overwhelming sense of relief when she realized it was Matt, positioning himself atop the smaller man and making sure to use his knees to pin Razor's hands in his pockets. The entire time his fists flew, slamming into the bandit leader's face over and over again.
Sam immediately turned and yanked the can of bear spray out of the hand of the surprised thug standing behind her, stumbling backwards even as she aimed it up at his face and pulled the trigger. He staggered away cursing and screaming before his breath faded away to choking coughs, and Sam turned to help Matt.
Razor was still caught completely unprepared by the tall, wiry man's attack, but the other thug reacted quickly to lumber forward and direct a brutal kick right at Matt's face. He saw it coming in time to duck away, but the kick still caught him in the shoulder hard enough to throw him off the bandit leader.
Sam hurriedly raised the bear spray and aimed it at the large thug's face, but unfortunately he saw her and ducked aside in time. She had to keep spraying as she readjusted her aim to hit him, and only managed to connect with a short blast before the can emptied and the spray petered down to a fizzing mist that barely shot a foot. The man still fell back coughing and swearing, but she didn't think it would distract him for long.
In the meantime Matt had managed to roll over and come to his feet, backing away defensively as Razor also sprang to his feet and yanked his namesake weapon out of his pocket, swiping at his bloody mouth with his other hand. The nondescript man had looked furious as he stood, but now he was smiling broadly.
Sam screamed at the sight of the sharp blade, helpless to do anything as Razor lunged towards the man she was quickly coming to love. Guided by pure desperation she turned the bear spray upside down to try to get anything that was left, but it barely released a dribble that just dripped down to the ground. She could only watch in horror as events unfolded.
The bandit leader swung his razor at Matt's face with blinding speed, and Matt barely managed to yank his head back in time. He tried to reach out and catch Razor's arm, but the bandit leader yanked his weapon back towards his chest and without hesitation slashed at the back of Matt's hand.
Again Matt barely managed to avoid being cut, but while he was focused on defending himself from the weapon the thug who'd taken a short blast of pepper spray lumbered in blindly and backhanded him with a heavy fist to the face. The blow knocked Matt to the street with a jarring impact, and Sam screamed again.
Smile widening to a snarl, Razor dropped to his knees straddling Matt and pinning his arms out to the sides, then brought his straight razor around for a precise cut.
Before it could land a deafening gunshot from behind Sam froze everyone where they were, even the thug she'd sprayed first who'd been rolling on the ground. Sam slowly turned her head to see a FETF soldier approaching with deliberate steps, M16 pointed at Razor's chest. “Drop it and back away, now!” he barked.
The bandit leader reluctantly complied, tossing aside his weapon and stumbling to his feet as he swiped his hand across his bloody face again. His noise was bleeding like a faucet from one or more of Matt's punches. “Did you see what these two did to us?” he demanded.
“Are you kidding?” Sam shouted incredulously as Matt stumbled to his feet and hurried over to put an arm around her shoulders. It was part comfort, part protective, and for Sam completely welcome.
The soldier shot her a warning glare before turning his eyes back to the three refugees. “I'm not stupid, man,” he said with just the slightest Spanish accent, which fit his classically handsome Latin features and dark hair and eyes. “I didn't think you were stupid either. At least not stupid enough to come into town when everyone knows who you are.”
Razor slowly held out his arms as if to demand the world acknowledge his innocence. “You've got this all wrong, uh . . .”
“Private Gutierrez,” the soldier barked. “You going to tell me your real name, Razor?”
The nondescript man ignored the question. “You've got this all wrong, Gutierrez. I was just talking to this cute girl here when that whackadoo tackled me out of nowhere and started hitting me. Is it illegal to talk to girls, now?”
“That's not what he did!” Sam protested. “He stole from me and restrained me so I couldn't leave, then started threatening me.”
“That's not true at all,” Razor said reasonably. “While I was talking to her she threatened me with pepper spray, so my friend Curtis here took it from her.” His hands were back in his pockets and he seemed to be losing his patience. “Listen, man, I've got a deal with your boss. I haven't broken it so get off my back before your boss gets on yours. Do you have any idea what happens if you decide to start trouble with the refugees?”
Gutierrez didn't look happy about that at all, but the threat seemed to have some effect. He slowly lowered his rifle. “I'm going to get this sorted out, but either way you and your friends should stay out of town,” he warned. “If I see you on these streets again we're going to have trouble, no matter what deal you claim you made with the Administrator.”
“Who am I to argue with the man with the gun?” Razor said sarcastically. He turned to them and in spite of everything Sam jumped in fright. She also noticed Matt's arm around her tightened slightly. But it wasn't her the refugee was looking at. “Hey I know you. Matt, right? You got Al arrested.”
“Get walking!” Gutierrez barked, raising his gun.
Razor held out his arms innocently again and started heading past them all towards the western edge of town, pausing only to retrieve his razor and shove it back into his pocket. “Looking forward to seeing you around, Matt,” he said. Somehow he managed to say that without the slightest hint of a threat in his tone, which made it all the more threatening. He left without waiting for his friends, leaving the thug who'd kicked Matt and was in
slightly better shape to haul the first thug Sam had sprayed up to his feet and help him along as they followed
Once the three refugees were well away Gutierrez turned to look at her. “Are you all right?”
Sam nodded, slightly surprised that she was the source of his concern when Matt was the one who'd been hurt in the scuffle while protecting her. “Yes, thank you.” Reminded, she hurriedly turned beneath Matt's arm and began fussing with his face, where an ugly bruise was already forming around his eye and across his cheekbone from the thug's heavy punch.
Matt stoically put up with her ministrations, eyes still on the FETF soldier. “What did he mean?” he demanded. “He made it sound like you weren't going to do anything to him!”
The soldier gave him a troubled look. In spite of his uniform and confident bearing Sam suddenly realized the man was probably her age, or maybe even a year or so younger. “We know all about Razor leading the group that robbed you, and he's definitely in charge of some gang in the refugee camp,” Gutierrez agreed. “He's trouble and we should be doing something about him.”
He fell silent, and Sam turned her eyes from Matt to look at him. “But you won't,” she guessed.
“Maybe if he does something serious, something we can't ignore,” the soldier said with an uncomfortable shrug.
“He just attacked Sam in broad daylight!” Matt nearly shouted. “I'm lucky I didn't get my face sliced off trying to defend my girlfriend, but you can see the black eye his buddy gave me.”
Sam nearly jumped under his arm. Girlfriend? Where had that come from? She wasn't necessarily annoyed at him calling her that, but he could've at least clarified their relationship with her first!
