Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  “I see.” Grimes glanced down at his overflowing desk. “I'm dealing with hundreds of thousands of people in this area. With all the fires I have to personally put out, let alone the reports from my subordinates on countless others, I barely have time to sleep and see to personal hygiene. And that's usually either/or. I can't make a day of it to check up on a few hundred people when I've already delegated responsibility for them to a subordinate.”

  Ed couldn't fail here. “Lives are at stake,” he said quietly. “If not you then at least send someone you trust to be objective.”

  The senior officer sighed. “Thank you for coming. I'll make sure you have food and a place to sleep for now. Whatever I can do to help you, it has to take a backseat to more pressing problems. It might be a few days.”

  That seemed like an encouraging answer to Ed, but he could see the others didn't share his relief. “We might not have a few days,” Lucas warned. “We can't wait around lost in the shuffle when anything might be happening back home.”

  Grimes rapped his knuckles on his desk, a sign of his growing impatience. “There are radio operators in camp you can get in touch with. If you get word of a disaster back home I'd be willing to give you a second hearing, otherwise you'll have to wait your turn. You're not the only one facing disasters and with lives at stake.” He stood, a clear dismissal.

  Ben opened his mouth to protest further, but Ed quickly cut in. “Thank you for your time, Colonel. We know you'll do whatever you can.” Catching the refugee leader's arm, he started for the exit as the rest of the group reluctantly followed behind.

  They might wait around for days until they were completely forgotten, unable to get another meeting and finally forced to return home in failure. But antagonizing the one person who might be willing to help them wasn't going to improve the situation any. At this point they just had to stick around and hope Grimes was as fair as he seemed.

  In the waiting room the colonel's aide arranged for a handy soldier to escort them to a spot in a nearby barracks tent that had a few billets open. Before taking Carrie on to where the female soldiers were quartered their escort gave them a quick rundown on meal times and camp protocol, as well as inviting them to explore the refugee camp if they found the military camp's movement restrictions too confining.

  Carrie promised to rejoin them once her sleeping situation was arranged, and in the meantime they saw to finding an out of the way spot to park the mule where they could be sure it wouldn't be messed with. Once that was done there wasn't much else on the agenda.

  “So what do we do now?” Ben grumbled, staring at the busy camp in dissatisfaction. Ed shared his feelings, considering how much there was to do back home.

  Surprisingly, Lucas didn't. His old friend grinned and stretched slightly. “Well since we have time to burn, I could remind you we are in the center of commerce and civilization for what remains of the US of A. Now's a good time to make connections, locate traders, and put together deals that might benefit the town.”

  “We don't have anything to trade,” Ed pointed out. “All we've got with us is the mule, a bit of diesel, and our weapons and gear.”

  “Depending on how things go with Colonel Grimes we might end up wanting to sell the mule and hitch a ride back with the military,” Lucas replied. “It's not going to do us much good with not even enough fuel to get home. As for not having anything to trade . . .” he shrugged. “We've got things to trade back home, everything from scavenged items to valuables and nonessentials we can afford to lose. We might even be able to arrange future deals, like I plan to do for my son if I can find a source of reloading materials.”

  Ben was nodding thoughtfully. “We do represent the town. I suppose finding trade opportunities is a better way to spend our time than sitting on these cots twiddling our thumbs.”

  Ed hesitated, then nodded as well. This was a good opportunity to do more for Aspen Hill than just wait for a response from Grimes. Assuming they still had a town to come home to by the time the colonel got around to doing something. “Agreed. Although we need to keep someone here at all times who knows where everyone's going to be, in case Colonel Grimes calls us in.”

  “Good thinking.” Lucas clapped him on the shoulder, grin widening. “You volunteering to take first shift?”

  Blast, he'd walked into that. “I guess,” he agreed glumly, settling down on his cot.

  Oh well, he wouldn't have even known where to begin searching through a refugee camp for people to trade with, or how to arrange deals if he found someone. Lucas had a better head for logistics, Ben had more experience with refugee camps as well as more knowledge of the town's situation as a leader, and Scott had decades of experience as a business owner. And as a trained soldier Carrie would be more useful to have along in case of trouble.

  On the plus side, at least he had something to do.

  * * * * *

  Chauncey relayed the word about the group sent to talk to the military.

  Trev didn't like the idea of days of delay when Rogers might decide to try something at any moment. Even if Grimes eventually decided to act in their favor, it wouldn't mean much if a tragedy had already taken place.

  His mood wasn't improved by the fact that in spite of doing all he could to prepare for when-or if-the major returned, once that was done it was hard to get to the more normal work. Especially since he wasn't sleeping well thanks to worry and, well, Deb.

  The brown-haired woman's fragile mental state had taken a turn for the worse with the fear that the town might come under attack. The idea that her safe refuge might not be so safe had had her waking him up for the last two nights to sit with her for reassurance.

  That had given him more incentive to get back to building his room now that the barn was finished, so her visits wouldn't risk bothering his family in their attempts to sleep. So far he thought Deb had managed to get his attention without disturbing anyone else, at least not too much, but it was still an awkward situation.

  He'd barely been paying attention to the date, so it was a surprise while doing the morning chores when Matt came around and asked him to help coordinate the commemoration.

  “Of what?” he asked, setting down the length of fence he'd been moving.

  His friend gave him an odd look. “The Gulf refineries attack. It's been a year. I thought we should have a small ceremony in memory of our lost friends and loved ones, maybe fly the flag to show that the United States of America still lives on.”

  Only a year. It felt like it'd been so much longer, to the point where how he'd lived before was a fading memory. Trev nodded soberly. “All right. Between my work seeing to the town's defenses I'll go around to the defenders and see who wants to pitch in.”

  “Good. I think we should have it in the field just north of town, closer to the road. The animals haven't been at the grass there as much, and it's close enough to the stream to be green. We can set up a small stage with packing crates or something, trot out the sound system for some appropriate music, mix up the usual powdered drinks, maybe try to put together some decorations. Think we can manage that by this evening?”

  Trev shrugged. “I don't see why not. Although as a rule it's usually good to start preparing a few days in advance, mostly to let people know it's happening.”

  Matt grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, actually you're not the only one who forgot. We've had a lot on our plate lately, and since this is the first year we can't really call it a tradition.”

  “Gotcha.” Trev glanced over his friend's shoulder and saw Deb approaching from her cabin, looking as exhausted as he felt. “We'll get started after chores.”

  “Thanks.” His friend nodded to them both. “And good morning, Deb.”

  “Hey, Matt,” she said tiredly. Matt gave her a slightly concerned look, then shrugged and headed off to do his own organizing. Once he was gone Deb turned to Trev, looking almost fearful. “What are we getting started on?”

  “Commemorating the Gulf refineries attack one year ago,�
�� Trev replied, getting back to his chores as the brown-haired woman moved to help.

  She looked relieved. “Oh. I thought it was bad news about Rogers.” She brightened. “He wants us to help with the preparations?” He nodded. “Good! I always liked setting up a party.”

  Trev wasn't sure he'd call it that, but he wasn't about to jump on her for a harmless slip. He was just tired and on edge from everything that was going on.

  Working together they finished up their chores, and Trev popped in to tell his family what he was doing. Minor alarm bells rang when he saw that Jim and Linda were nowhere to be seen, and his mom and dad were standing shoulder to shoulder in that “unified front” stance he remembered from the few times he'd been in serious trouble as a kid.

  “Have a seat, Trevor,” his mom said gently but firmly, motioning. Not to his cot, nearest the door, but to Linda's closest to the stove. Which would effectively put him where they could corner him for a serious discussion.

  Just that suddenly he felt like a kid again, and it was an effort not to hunch his shoulders guiltily. “Um, Matt wanted me and Deb to help him set up a ceremony to commemorate the Gulf refineries attack,” he hedged.

  His dad glanced apologetically at Deb, who'd been peeking inside curiously around Trev's arm. “Good morning, Deb. Could you give us a few minutes with our son?”

  “Of course, Mr. Smith,” she said. They were all familiar enough by this point that she usually called his parents by their first names, but she'd caught on to the mood. “I'll get started with Gutierrez, then probably Trent.”

  Blast, she was happy to send him into the lion's den. Trev couldn't for the life of him figure out what he'd done here, but his parents were generally easygoing so it had to be something. He reluctantly shut the door behind him as Deb waved and walked off, then trudged to plop down on the edge of Linda's cot.

  “Okay, let me have it.”

  His parents sat down across from him on their own bed, looking as serious as Trev had ever seen them. “You're not in trouble, son,” his dad began. “But I think we need to have a serious discussion.”

  Those two statements seemed contradictory. “About what?” he asked warily.

  His mom took a breath. “We'd like to ask you a few questions. I don't want you to give knee jerk answers, or actually really any answers at all. I want you to keep emotion out of it and do your best to look at the questions from all angles. In fact, I don't even want you to assume that the questions I'm asking beg a certain correct answer, or that any answer is correct.”

  Trev's wariness was giving way to pure confusion. “What?”

  They were both having trouble meeting his eyes, especially his dad, who was staring awkwardly somewhere off to his right. He seemed content to let Clair do the talking for them. “First, is it possible that you can't give Deb the help she needs?” she began.

  The question, circumspectly approached as it was, still hit Trev like a load of bricks. “What?” he said again, anger instantly there.

  His mom held up a stern hand. “No emotion, no knee jerk responses.”

  “Forget that!” Trev said, starting to stand. Only then did he remember that his parents had picked their seats to put him against the wall. That just made him angrier. “Do you go and sit Lewis down when Jane walks off in the middle of a conversation without a word? Do I go all psychoanalyst when Mary starts humming songs pertaining to whatever situation she's in because she's too shy to talk?”

  “She does what?” his dad asked, looking befuddled.

  Trev ignored him. “How about when Linda can't seem to figure out the world's ended and still insists on acting like a spoiled princess? Have you sat her down for a “serious discussion”? Did you corner Jim about how he makes it worse by getting on her case in all the wrong ways that won't solve anything?”

  Their expression had grown more stern. “Please, Trev,” his mom said. “We're not just talking about personality quirks or sibling rivalry here. Deb's been through serious trauma, and it really looks like-” she abruptly cut off. “No, sorry. You're right, we're not going to analyze her state of mind. We really do just want to ask some questions and have you seriously consider them.”

  Trev sat. He loved and respected his parents, and he knew they had his best interests at heart. But he really, really wasn't a fan of this situation. The best he could do was sit and wait for her to continue.

  His mom took another breath. “Second. Is it possible that the help you're giving her might not be beneficial to either of you?”

  A short silence settled. Trev was keeping quiet mostly because he was afraid anything he said would become another outburst.

  His parents seemed to realize it. “And finally,” his mom said. “People jokingly call Deb your deputy because she's always at your side. Do you think it's healthy that she's afraid to be alone, or even around other people besides you, and depends on your presence for her emotional peace of mind? Even when it's detrimental to you, like when she regularly wakes you up at night to reassure her?”

  Trev gave a start of surprise. He hadn't realized anyone else knew about that. Sure, maybe they'd seen it happen once or twice. But he'd thought nobody knew it was a common occurrence.

  “You and mom are practically joined at the hip whenever you can manage it,” he shot off. It was a cheap retort, and lacked any conviction.

  “Again, you know it's not the same,” his mom answered. She leaned forward to put a hand on Trev's knee. “I know you care about Deb, honey. I care about her too, and so does everyone else. We want her to be able to get past what she's suffered. But that might mean that she needs to face her problems head on rather than hiding behind you to escape them. I know we don't have any licensed therapists in town, but there are people she could talk to. You know things will only get worse if you let them continue like they are.”

  Trev closed his eyes. “All right, I'll consider your questions.” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice as he continued. “If you'll consider that maybe being around someone safe and familiar until she's had time to recover from what she suffered is exactly what she needs.”

  His dad finally spoke up. “We did consider that, son. My motto has always been to avoid butting into other people's relationships, since it usually doesn't help and only makes everyone angry at you. But things seem to be getting worse with your situation, and you know I have to have serious concerns if I'm speaking up now. Concerns your mother and many others share.”

  Many others. Trev was surprised the busybodies hadn't all packed into this small room for their little intervention. He stood again, more controlled this time. His parents silently shifted to let him by, and he wasted no time leaving.

  All things considered he wasn't looking forward to seeing Deb at the moment, not with all his parents' doubts packed into his mind. But when he went around to Gutierrez's house his friend told him she hadn't been by yet, and Trent told him the same at the Lincoln cabin. She seemed to have disappeared.

  In a way that was a relief. He was certain nothing had happened to her in the middle of town, and tracking her down gave him time to think about what to do about her. About them. It wasn't an easy decision, but he wasn't about to ignore his parents if the situation was raising red flags.

  And to be honest he'd been sorting though his own concerns about how Deb's state didn't seem to be improving, was probably even worsening due to the added strain of Rogers and his threats, and nothing he tried seemed to help. Maybe her dependence on him really was the problem, keeping her from pushing through the pain to sort through her issues and move on.

  If so then he had to convince her to take a break for her sake. It hurt to feel like he was turning her away, but knowing that he'd hindered her recovery would be even worse.

  He still hadn't found her when he finally decided. It would be a painful thing to do and he'd miss her, but even so he'd encourage her to take a break from volunteering with the defenders, explore other pursuits in town besides always being one step aw
ay from the conflict. Which couldn't be good for her anyway.

  And he'd encourage her to build close friendships with people besides him, start to integrate herself in the community rather than being his shadow. He knew Sam, April, Alice, and the women in Jane's group had already reached out to her, and were being patient in spite of her rebuffs. And he knew she was comfortable around Grant, Trent, Rick, Scott, and most of the other volunteers she'd fought beside near Highway 31. Hopefully away from him she could build those acquaintanceships into true friendships.

  Maybe his parents were right that this would be best for the woman he was coming to care for more and more. He just hoped she saw it that way.

  And wasn't this the perfect time to worry about all this, when at any moment the military could be knocking down the door and coming in guns blazing to steal all their food? Some things couldn't wait, though.

  * * * * *

  Lewis was quickly coming to the conclusion that fodder was going to be a major hassle.

  Although maybe “hassle” was too mild a word. Cutting, gathering and bundling it by hand, with no machinery or even horse-drawn tools, was a deceptively time consuming and laborious task. And Chauncey and Hailey had made it pretty clear that although goats and sheep didn't eat anywhere near as much as cows or horses, they could still pack it away.

  Ironic wasn't exactly the proper term, but central Utah was known for producing hay as one of its main crops. It was too bad the blockheads had been in such an arsonous mood when they left, because otherwise there probably would've been countless fields and barns around here with dozens of bales just lying there, unsold and unused with no fuel to ship them to buyers. But since hay was useful and convenient for burning they'd probably gone out of their way to torch it wherever they found any.

  Actually that was a thought. Even trying their best the blockheads couldn't have gotten it all, and there were areas they hadn't reached and possibly people who'd found it valuable enough to justify the labor of moving it to safety. Even now there could be a lot more hay around here than animals to eat it, especially after a year of struggling to survive led to the slaughter of so much livestock.