Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  Lewis had planned his own extension by building three more walls up against the western wall of his family's cabin, which he intended to finish and roof over so it would basically be a separate cabin with a connecting wall and a door leading outside. Then, when he could, he'd begin the laborious process of cutting through the logs in the connecting wall for a second doorway to the main room.

  That seemed like a good way to do it to Trev, so he began the same way. First off by marking off dimensions and deciding which direction the door would face. He settled on the same way as the cabin's, for convenience.

  His work drew immediate attention. His parents already knew about it, and Jim simply told him it was cool before running off to his own work, but Linda nearly had kittens when she saw what he was doing.

  “You're building a bedroom off the main room?” she asked eagerly. “Who's it for?”

  Trev didn't blame her for being excited, considering how crowded their one room cabin felt with five people. Blanket partitions barely helped.

  He felt his face flush with embarrassment as he answered. “Me.”

  She gave him a surprised and slightly angry look. “You're building it for yourself? What about Mom and Dad? What about me? That seems kind of selfish.”

  It seemed fairly ludicrous for her to call work he was willing to do on his own selfish, just because it was for his benefit. But he saw where she was coming from. “Maybe. I'm looking ahead.”

  Linda picked up on that fast. “Ooh!” she exclaimed, excitement returning. “For when you and Deb get married?” She said the word in a singsong voice. “Is that what you were doing with her all night, making out?”

  His flush deepened, and he started to get annoyed. “No!” he snapped. “And keep it down! You know we, uh, that it's complicated. I'm just planning ahead.”

  His sister winked at him and tapped her nose conspiratorially. “Gotcha. Best of luck constructing your man cave.”

  Trev shook his head as she nearly skipped away, getting back to work.

  Before too long he was heading off in search of trees to cut down. The valley had plenty of those, and the mountain slopes all around them had even more, but with so many people constructing houses and gathering firewood it was getting to be a longer and longer walk to find suitable ones for building. Especially since there were far more unsuitable trees that weren't the right type, or weren't straight enough or long enough or thick enough. There was also the fact that even with Matt's best efforts to preserve the trees good for building for that purpose, the woodcutters going for firewood tended to cut down everything.

  He borrowed Lewis's sturdy wagon for the job, since it was strong enough to take the weight of one or more logs as long as he could get the balance right and lash them down properly.

  On the way out of town Matt intercepted him to let him know Deb was looking for him, as well as to ask how the defenders at the new posts were doing. Trev had him send along a message to Deb that he was out cutting logs, and paused to radio the new guys and get a report.

  That inevitably led to his friend asking what he was doing with the wagon, and Trev somewhat sheepishly admitted he was building a room on the cabin for himself.

  Thankfully, if Matt drew the same conclusion Linda did he didn't jump on it the way she had. “Taking a page from Lewis's book, huh?”

  Trev nodded. “Kind of too bad I wasn't here during the original building, or we could've done what your family did.”

  The Larson clan had basically built three tiny nooks, for Terry and April and their boys, for Ed and Mona, and for Matt and Sam, that were just big enough for a bed (two beds for the Lynns) and specifically for sleeping, and had connected them to a larger central space where they could cook and spend their time. It was actually a fairly smart design Ed had thought up, where the beds were all turned sideways and the rooms were blocked off by reasonably soundproof partitions rather than doors. During the day, whenever there was no need for privacy, the partitions could be moved so the beds could double as places to sit or lounge.

  It had taken a lot of work, but the end result was a much better arrangement for three couples.

  “It's been working out pretty well,” his friend agreed. He hesitated, glancing back towards town, then sighed. “We've all got more things to do than hours in the day, but I think I can spare an hour or two to help you get started.”

  Trev blinked, surprised and touched by the offer. “You don't have to do that.”

  Matt gave him a slightly lopsided grin. “I've got a good idea of how long it'll take you to do it on your own, and how much easier and faster a lot of jobs can be with two people. I also know you've been helping your cousin with his room on top of all the other houses you're helping to build. Besides, Gutierrez was a good reminder of how much it can hurt to feel like you're on your own without any helping hands.”

  Truth be told Trev really could use the help. He grinned back. “Thanks, seriously. I probably can't spare much more than that either, especially with our interviewees coming tomorrow, but we'll see what we can get done.”

  “That's the spirit,” his friend clapped him on the back, and together they headed for the nearest stand of trees.

  Chapter Six

  New Neighbors

  Watching the crowd of dirty, emaciated people in ragged clothes coming down the hill towards town, it was hard to picture them as a benefit to the town rather than an extreme liability. Just looking at them made Matt feel hungry, and he'd recently eaten lunch.

  Or maybe, in spite of his frugal portion, it made him feel extremely overfed considering the alternative. He'd experienced more than his fair share of serious hunger last winter, trying to get by on what had been in the cache Trev gave his family. And it was almost certain he'd be facing more of that before this winter was through.

  And the town was going to welcome in dozens of these beggars to make their situation even worse.

  Not beggars, Matt, he had to remind himself. As bad off as they looked it was easy to forget these were all experienced doctors, engineers, skilled craftsman, farmers, hunters, and even a few retired veterans of wars overseas. And most importantly for him there was an OB/GYN among them, who he desperately hoped was well qualified.

  He stood with the town's interviewing committee, which was made up of him and his mom Mona, Trev, Lucas, Catherine and her daughter Tam Raymond, Chauncey, Ben, Terry, and lastly Carol Clarkson, an energetic woman in her thirties who for months now had been supervising the labor of the women in need who worked for food from the town's stores.

  A small crowd of gawkers had gathered to watch the approaching group, murmuring thoughts similar to Matt's own, although generally less complimentary. The townspeople's response to Lewis's idea had been lukewarm at best, with the biggest concern being food. Then again, even the most ardent critics had a hard time arguing against training and experience the town was lacking and desperately needed, such as in obstetrics.

  They greeted the refugees and escorted them to a pavilion they'd set up for their visit, where the promised meal waited. The idea was to let them eat and then have Lewis, Rick Watson, and a few others give them a tour of the town, while they pulled people out one at a time to interview them and get clarification on the skills they'd listed on their resumes.

  Matt felt a bit bad that Lewis had been relegated to tour guide even though this was his idea, although his friend didn't seem to mind. As for Rick, Matt had barely seen him the last few weeks. Chauncey's sons had been working almost nonstop to take care of their family, Rick doing the lion's share of the work with whatever help Wes could offer. With their dad crippled and so often occupied manning the radio on behalf of the town the responsibility fell on their shoulders.

  That family would soon include Alice Thornton, who would be marrying Rick a week from now. They'd planned an informal outdoor event with the whole town invited, for dancing and sports and games. Matt was looking forward to it, as much because the town needed reasons to rest, relax, and celebrat
e as because he was happy for his friends.

  As the refugees got started on their meal the committee invited the first potential recruit into the log cabin that served as the clinic, where a collection of chairs had been assembled.

  The first interviewee was a man about Matt's age, or maybe a bit older, about six feet tall with a solid build. Beneath his medium length sandy blond hair he had the sort of movie star type features that tended to draw a woman's interest. Judging from the way the eyes of several of Aspen Hill's young ladies followed him as he was ushered inside, Matt had a feeling he knew one refugee they hoped would make the cut.

  The man joined them at the circle of chairs, offering his hand first to Matt. “Robert Paulson. Thanks for this opportunity,” he said sincerely.

  After brief introductions while the man shook everyone else's hands Matt motioned for him to sit. “Let's get some of the obvious stuff out of the way. First, do you have a criminal record?”

  Robert looked a bit surprised, but shook his head. “No.”

  “And you haven't committed any serious crimes that have actual victims since the Gulf burned?”

  At that the man's surprise turned to confusion. “Actual victims?”

  Matt felt his face reddening. He was going to have to revise that wording. “Under the circumstances I can't really fault a starving person for raiding an obviously abandoned house or car, or looting a closed and abandoned business. And especially not for resorting to violence to defend yourself or your property. Aside from being hypocritical, that would exclude just about everyone.”

  “Ah.” Robert nodded in understanding. “I've had to defend myself and my property a few times, and a time or two I've gone looking for food and necessities where owners were no longer around to protest, as it were. But for the most part I've tried to uphold the laws, even if they're no longer being enforced. Everyone making the choice to live that way is the only way society survives.”

  It was a good answer. “Do you have any outstanding debts we should know about?”

  “Aside from a car loan and a gym membership?” Robert asked with a slight grin. “I doubt anyone's going to collect on them, but in the unlikely event they do I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

  His good humor was infectious, and several members of the committee couldn't help but smile too. “You and everyone else,” Catherine replied. She glanced at Matt questioningly, and he nodded for her to go ahead. “Those are the main formalities, and we covered the rest in your resume. Unless there's anything else you think you should add?” The man hesitated, seriously thinking and obviously not sure what was worth mentioning, then shook his head. “Let's get to it, then. Tell us about your qualifications. You're a furniture carpenter?”

  Robert nodded, then hesitated. “As a profession? I mean, with mass production I'm not sure furniture carpentry is even a thing anymore. Aside from fixtures built during construction, that is. But I mean building something like a table to sell . . .” He trailed off, aware he was on the verge of babbling.

  The former Mayor's smile turned reassuring. “Why don't you tell us about it?”

  The man shot her a grateful look. “Carpentry was my dad's hobby. He worked at it all his life, and by the end was really skilled. He made all the furniture in our house, and friends and visitors would often try to commission him to make something for them. Sometimes at a really good price, although he usually refused. He wanted to keep the work a hobby, and the most he'd bend on that was the occasional gift.”

  Robert trailed off, looking pained for a moment as if remembering recent grief, then continued. “I was practically raised in his workshop, and worked on most of his projects with him. In the last few years I started making my own furniture, which I did sell where I could. The market for handmade furniture has been growing over the last few years, especially quality work that's built to last. I was on my way to making a reasonable living before the world ended.”

  “Well I'd say the market for handmade furniture has only gotten better, all things considered,” Matt said dryly. He leaned forward. “Let's get right to the point. Aspen Hill could really use a skilled carpenter, but could you actually do carpentry work for us? Do you have the tools and skills for low tech work, without electricity or a workshop full of fancy equipment?”

  To his credit the man didn't become defensive. “We did use electric tools,” he said frankly. “But remember, this was my dad's hobby. He had a great deal of respect for the profession as it's been practiced through the ages, and he had all the tools to do every step of the work by hand. He taught me how to use those tools too, although I admit I'm not nearly as practiced with them.”

  Robert hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Those tools are sitting in a wagon by the pavilion right now, being watched over by a friend,” he continued. “I realized their value after the Gulf burned, that they might be the only way I could make a living in a world without electricity or easy fuel. So I took them with me, and held onto them even when I went hungry and was tempted to sell or trade them.” He sucked in a determined breath. “So yes, I can actually do carpentry work for your town. I could get started today if you wanted.”

  Matt gave a low whistle, impressed. No wonder the committee had rushed this guy through the list of candidates. Someone with not only skill in a highly useful profession but tools as well had to be one in a million. “And how about construction carpentry? We do have a huge demand for quality furniture, but right now we're still working to put a roof over everyone's heads and have to make that a priority. We need basic work done quickly, well, and that'll last through the harsh winter we're facing.”

  The man smiled, with the confidence of someone who's earned it. “Carpentry's my business, I've done more than my fair share of construction work. Mostly detailed finishing on more upscale homes, but I usually got called by family and friends when they needed something done on their houses, too. And in my spare time if anyone who can afford to pay wants to commission a piece of furniture I'm happy to work long hours.”

  Robert fell silent, waiting hopefully. Matt was sold, and he could tell the rest of the committee was as well. He spent a few more minutes getting specifics on what exactly Robert had made, and the committee quizzed him on carpentry knowledge as best they could with their own limited experience in the field.

  Finally Matt stood, offering his hand again. “Thanks for coming in, Mr. Paulson. Going into this the committee agreed we wouldn't make any snap judgments, so we'll need to do some deliberating among ourselves, but I'd say your chances are very good. Hopefully we'll be welcoming you to our town soon.”

  The refugee shook his hand with a relieved grin. “Thank you. I know I can be useful, and I'm eager for the chance to prove it.”

  “We're looking forward to it, too.” Matt hesitated. “I hate to bring this up because I don't doubt your honesty, but it needs to be said. If it turns out that you've mislead us about your qualifications, criminal history, or anything else that would be a severe detriment to the town, we reserve the right to expel you without condition. And you've also been informed of the town's current laws on criminal activity?” Robert nodded. “Okay, just so you know. We want to protect your rights as a citizen, but those are things we have to be firm on.”

  “I understand,” Robert actually looked more confident. “In a way that's great. If I'm going to be a citizen here then the fact that you hold everyone to the same standard is as good for me as for everyone else.”

  With a few final handshakes they led Robert back to the pavilion, chatting more casually along the way. There the carpenter went to check on his tools and get himself some food, while the committee searched for the next interviewee.

  During that time Trev's sister Linda pulled Matt aside, trying to appear casual. “So how did the first interview go with, um . . .”

  “Robert?” Matt asked, amused. “Well. It looks like he's a skilled carpenter. We're probably going to invite him in.”

  The young woman
tried to hide how pleased she was at the news. “Oh okay,” she said, nervously playing with her long light brown hair. “And is Robert's family coming, too?”

  Matt held back a grin at the obvious intent of her question. “He's single, coming here on his own.”

  Just as he'd expected she broke into an eager smile at that, although she tried to hide it. “Cool. Well thanks, Matt.”

  He shook his head as the young woman practically skipped away. She was still years away from being old enough to marry, and Robert was not only several years older than her but also a very eligible bachelor. The town's new carpenter wouldn't have any trouble finding a wife long before then.

  Still, it was cute to see her so hopeful.

  The next refugee they led into the clinic was a middle-aged man named Garret Langstrom. He'd worked as a trauma surgeon in an emergency room in Salt Lake City, and after the Gulf burned he'd had the foresight to carry his medical credentials with him when he fled with his family. Most of the other possessions he, his wife, and his young son had brought with them were gone by this point, but he'd wisely held onto those documents all this time.

  Thanks to that he'd been snapped up by the military operating out of Hill Air Force Base, providing his services and in many cases training the staff who worked under him. It had kept his family fed last winter, and he'd been satisfied with the service he'd given.

  When spring rolled around and news came about the Gold Bloc invasion, however, Langstrom and his wife had worried that a military base was a dangerous place to be. Unfortunately the surrounding area outside Hill Air Force Base's control was also dangerous, with very few stable communities and raiders like Ferris and Turner's group marauding unchecked.

  After asking around he was able to find a community near Utah Lake, made up of a number of refugees from Antelope Island who'd fled south along the Jordan River after chaos broke out in the camp. The community had survived by lucky scavenging finds of food warehouses far removed from Utah Valley, which often had people guarding them.