Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4)

by Nathan Jones

  The sheriff's eyes narrowed. “Not robbery. I'm making a purchase, and I'll give you a fair price for it. I'm just not giving you a choice in the matter.” He casually drew his 9mm, not quite pointing it directly at Trev as he jerked his head towards where Lucas and the employees waited near the front of the store. “If you and your family will head on over there, please?”

  Trev reluctantly complied, giving Vernon's men space to continue their work. “Why the pretense of letting us buy everything and load the truck?” he demanded. “Too lazy to do it yourself?” It probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize the man, but he couldn't help himself.

  It was Clara who answered, spitting off to one side as she did. “That playacting was for us, wasn't it Fred? So you could get the truck mostly loaded without tipping off the town that you meant to rob and abandon us, same as you're doing to these poor travelers. Where's all your other deputies, the ones who aren't complete cronies? Got 'em locked away somewhere while you skedaddle?”

  So not all of Newtown's defenders were in on the sheriff's plot. That would explain why the town's defenses had been unmanned. Trev silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to that when he'd noticed it. They'd probably been at Vernon's mercy from the moment they entered the town, but with a little forewarning they might have found some way out of this.

  Vernon scowled at Clara's question, although beneath the fierce expression it almost looked like his conscience was acting up. “The Gold Bloc is about to swarm all over this country, madder than a swarm from a kicked beehive after the nukes destroyed their homes. Anyone with half a brain will be making for Mexico as quick as they can. Nothing personal, but I wanted to get out ahead of that and this truck's the perfect opportunity.”

  “What about your reputation as an honest, law-abiding sheriff?” Lucas asked. He was obviously angry, but he managed to keep his tone somewhat even.

  The sheriff, or Trev supposed former sheriff, shrugged. “Doesn't mean much to have a reputation as sheriff of a ghost town. Which is what this place will be if you take my advice and get while the getting's good.”

  As Vernon continued he reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy clinking sack. “But I do pride myself on fairness and honesty, so here: twenty 1oz. gold coins as payment. No idea how much a truck like this is actually worth, but I'd say that's a generous price for it. Especially since by your nephew's own admission it's stolen.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, considering that I could've just taken it and booted you all out of town with nothing I'd say I'm being pretty fair. So don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

  Lucas accepted the money, looking resigned. “I guess we should've expected that a working vehicle would be too big a temptation for even an honest person to pass up. Although you won't get more than a hundred miles with the fuel in it.” Trev couldn't help but admire his uncle for making one last effort to dissuade the man from robbing them.

  “Don't push my buttons, Halsson,” the former sheriff snapped. “You think I'm stupid? You all show up in a stolen truck with no weapons and barely enough diesel to get out of spitting distance of this town, looking to buy enough supplies to set yourself up wherever you're going. Don't think I didn't notice you in there buying enough ammunition, spare mags, and other stuff for three more AK-47s.”

  Trev felt his heart sink. That number was suspiciously specific.

  Sure enough Vernon continued and confirmed his fears. “Last night I had my boys head down the way you came up, scouring every square foot within a hundred yards of the road. Took most of the night, but we found the extra fuel you'd hidden, along with the weapons, body armor, and riot gear.”

  So that was it. Their last precaution in case of just this situation hadn't been enough. If Vernon had the diesel he had every reason to steal the truck and take it as far south as he could. He might even be able to reach Mexico with the remaining fuel.

  Vernon turned away to oversee the last of the loading. Once he was gone Lucas slumped down to lean against the front of the General Store, opening the sack to check the coins inside but showing little real interest in them. “They look real,” he mumbled.

  “It's a joke, paying us for something he's stealing from us.” Trev kicked at the shed's corrugated steel wall, making it ring with a dull poing. “This is my fault. I'm the one who guaranteed this town was safe.”

  “It was, when it was just you.” His uncle shook his head. “It's easier to find trustworthy people when you have nothing major to steal. We knew this was a risk when we came here.”

  Trev's dad sighed and slumped down beside his brother-in-law. “Best to accept it's all lost and figure out what to do next. We've still got 700 miles to go, on foot it's looking like. We need the supplies to make it that distance and some way to carry them.”

  Eva started to cry, and Clara came over to put an arm around her. The store employee looked like she was on the verge of tears herself. “I'm sorry this happened,” she mumbled. “I just can't believe he would do this.”

  Trev looked at her, and at Deb and the other employees in their own little huddle nearby, then to the crowd of townspeople that had doubled in size and was still growing. Vernon's sudden turn had been bad for Trev's group, but for the people of Newtown it had to really be pulling the rug out from under them.

  The man they'd trusted to defend them was taking all their most valuable possessions and leaving them to fend for themselves. Trev tried to imagine if Matt and some of the Aspen Hill defenders had done this, and just couldn't. He couldn't believe his friends and neighbors were capable of it.

  These people had probably thought the same up until fifteen minutes ago.

  A few braver or more foolish townspeople in the crowd called out curses and threats as Vernon and his men finished loading the truck and began piling inside. The former sheriff did his best to ignore the resentment directed his way as he made his way over to Trev. “I'm glad to see you didn't try anything.”

  Trev couldn't hide his glare. Try anything . . . as opposed to what? They'd left their weapons behind, but even if they hadn't they would've had to check them in to get into town. And if somehow neither of those were the case there was no way they could fight so many people, especially when it would put the rest of the family in danger. Their only option had been to trust in Vernon's integrity.

  When he didn't respond Vernon continued. “We'll be going now, but before we do I wanted to wish you luck with whatever you decide to do. I'm sorry things had to turn out like this.”

  Seriously? Trev couldn't believe the guy could still stand there and pretend to be reasonable after what he'd done. He knew it was pointless, and possibly a bad idea since he might anger the sheriff turned thief, but he couldn't help himself. “You think apologizing matters when you do it anyway?”

  Just about everyone in his family shot him warning looks at that, and Vernon's eyes narrowed. “It's not all bad, now,” he said. “Maybe after this you'll decide to stay in Newtown after all. You're welcome to have my house, I won't be needing it.” He tried for a hearty chuckle and failed miserably. “Heck, you can even take over as sheriff if you want. You've got all that machine gun dodging experience you told me about, right?”

  Trev grit his teeth. “I thought you were one of the few people left with some integrity.”

  The sheriff's eyes narrowed in a sudden flash of annoyance, although his voice remained amiable. “Guess you thought wrong. It wasn't an easy decision, mind you. I was up most of the night debating it, but in the end I couldn't pass up the opportunity of a truck and fuel. Not with the blockheads swarming south towards us. Don't you remember me telling you you got to do what you have to, way the world is now?” Trev had obviously pricked the older man's conscience, because he quickly looked away and turned to leave.

  Deb abruptly bolted forward from where she'd been standing with the other employees. “What about us?” she demanded. “We trusted you!”

  The former sheriff paused for a moment, giving the woman
a look of equal parts guilt and annoyance. “The town still has plenty, and everything we're taking is what we've earned. You should be grateful we looked after you as long as we did, kept you alive through the winter. And if you have any brains you'll pack up and follow us south as quick as you can.”

  He opened the driver's side door and hauled himself behind the wheel, slamming it behind him. The engine rumbled to life a moment later, and Vernon began carefully backing it around the piled sacks of wheat and other things his men had tossed out to make room for them and their stuff.

  Before driving off, though, he paused for one final word to Trev's family. “I'm no thief!” he called, in defiance of all evidence to the contrary. “We'll be taking your fuel because we need it, but the AKs and other stuff we'll leave behind. You're free to hike out and grab it.”

  The truck lurched into motion rumbling down the street towards the highway, leaving the town behind. Trev watched them go, still doing his best to keep all the helpless rage he felt at the situation bottled up.

  They had 700 or so miles to go, with the invading Gold Bloc forces getting closer by the minute. The former sheriff hadn't just taken their vehicle, he might have sentenced them to their deaths.

  And it was all Trev's fault for vouching for the man.

  * * * * *

  “He left us,” Clara said numbly, staring south as if she could still see the departed truck. “After swearing to protect us, he and his men took everything useful and ran off. How could he do that?”

  The General Store employees had wandered over to join the rest of the townspeople, who for the most part were still shocked and disbelieving at what had just happened. They'd left Trev and his family to gather up the few things Vernon had dumped from the truck, along with what they'd been carrying on them, which the former sheriff had allowed them to keep. Those were all the possessions they had left.

  Some members of Trev's family had shaken off their daze quicker than Newtown's residents. “He took our truck,” his mom said, finally releasing her pent up anger as she rummaged through the spare clothes they'd purchased. There were a few small things there, like the packets of seeds she'd put in a pocket for safekeeping, but not many.

  Even though she didn't look his way Trev still hunched his shoulders slightly at her outburst. She may not have meant it as an accusation but it might as well have been one, since this had been his idea and he'd pushed for it.

  Lucas had started piling up the few sacks of wheat, the motions calm and deliberate. But when he replied his voice also shook with anger. “We knew it was a risk. We did our best to minimize that risk but it wasn't enough. So now we forget about it and focus on what we're going to do now.”

  Trev wasn't willing to let it go like that. His family had been safe in Greenbush all winter, and the Halssons had been in Norway, so they wouldn't have known better. But he should've. How many times had he been robbed? How many times had people tried to rob him? He should've known better.

  “We need to go get our guns,” his dad said, letting the sack he'd halfheartedly lifted sink back to the ground. “If he was telling the truth about leaving everything but the fuel behind we should go after it.”

  That was a good point, although the weapons wouldn't be nearly as useful since Vernon had taken their new AK-47 and all the spare magazines, ammo, and other stuff Lucas had purchased. One of the former sheriff's men had been toting an AK, and he'd wanted all of that stuff for it.

  Which reminded him. Trev glanced across the street at the townspeople. It looked like no one had stepped forward to take charge in the confused mass of people. The main emotions in the crowd remained uncertainty and fear, as well as the growing groundswell of outrage and resentment. With Vernon gone it seemed as if they'd lost their sense of purpose, and maybe their backbone too. He wasn't sure what they were going to do now.

  “Do you think they've thought to release the deputies Vernon locked up?” he asked.

  Lucas shrugged. “If so that's their business, not ours. I doubt they'd appreciate us sticking our noses in. Besides, we have our own problems to worry about.”

  True enough. Trev abruptly stood. “I'll go after the guns.”

  His uncle nodded and reached into the parcel of extra goods he'd been holding onto when Vernon's man kicked him out of the store. He pulled out a full water bottle, handing it over. “You'll be walking half the day to get there and back, but I suppose we don't have a choice.”

  “Thanks.” Trev hadn't thought of water, but with twenty miles to go he was glad Lucas had before he could take off and regret his lack of foresight a few miles down the road.

  His dad was also nodding his approval of the plan, even as he turned to look behind him at the General Store. “In the meantime this is still a trading post, or at least I hope it is if Newtown's people will cooperate, and Vernon left us quite a bit of money. We'll try to purchase new supplies and see what we can do about transportation. Hopefully when you get back we'll be ready to go.”

  Trev grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to walking the 700 miles to Aspen Hill, including going over the mountains west of Denver and retracing the most brutal part of his trip. A few weeks of spring might've melted some of the winter snows away by now, but probably not enough. Good thing Vernon had at least left their winter gear.

  As he started down the street in the direction the truck had vanished Deb broke away from the townspeople and came over to him. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she'd been crying or at least fighting not to. “Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

  Under the circumstances? “Yeah,” he answered. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, although her expression grew even more miserable. “I'm so sorry. I was so proud of this town for the way we treated newcomers. For the way we treated each other. And you know, from the very beginning Fred was the example that inspired us all to be better. Then he did this!” A tear finally slipped free, and she wiped it away almost angrily.

  “I'm sorry too,” Trev said. He felt like there was more he should say, but he couldn't think of it. “What will you do now?”

  “How should I know?” she said, rubbing at her eyes again. “I looks like we need to go, but I don't know where. Or how. I guess we'll have to talk it over and figure it out.”

  Trev nodded, again trying to imagine if Catherine and Matt and Chauncey and more of Aspen Hill's best people had suddenly abandoned the town. Aspen Hill might just shatter if that happened, especially during a crisis.

  Since he couldn't figure out what to say or do he awkwardly extricated himself and continued on. At first at a walk, but before he'd even left town he found himself jogging, and having to consciously make the effort to not break into an outright run. Most of what spurred him on was his frustration at the situation, although the knowledge of the distance he had to travel and the fact that they couldn't continue on for home until he returned helped keep him going.

  Anger and urgency both faded after the first mile, and he finally allowed himself to slow to a walk for a while until he could catch his breath to jog again. He might not've been in tiptop shape after the stress of the last couple days, but at least the two meals Vernon had fed them before the former sheriff pulled his stunt had given him the strength to keep up a good pace.

  He alternated jogging and walking as the sun rose higher in the sky, marching on toward noon. It took him about two hours to reach the poorly hidden cache at the edge of the meadow, and by the time he got there he was tired enough to stop and take a serious rest.

  Which took the form of him plopping onto his back halfway across the meadow, staring up at the clear blue sky above him until it stopped wobbling at the edges of his vision and his breath sounded a bit less like a rasping wheeze.

  Then he got up and strode the rest of the way to the meadow's edge.

  Vernon hadn't been lying about finding the cache through their poor job of disguising the spot where they'd buried it; the hole had been dug up again and everything taken out and strewn across the
grass. The cans of diesel were gone, of course, but once again true to the former sheriff's dubious word everything else they'd hidden was still there.

  Trev wearily began gathering things up, then put his mind to the unexpected task of figuring out a way to carry it all. Like with the water, he hadn't really thought through how he was going to lug 3 rifles, 2 flak jackets loaded with gear, and a full suit of riot gear including crowd control tools the 10 miles back to town.

  “Fantastic,” he muttered. “It's just one thing after another.” And the worst part was he couldn't blame anyone but himself for the situation, since it was all thanks to his own poor judgement. Not to mention lack of planning and foresight. If Lewis was here he'd be facepalming himself into a concussion at what a mess his cousin had made of things.

  After what felt like way too long he managed to rig one flak jacket with various straps and belts to tie everything else onto it, in a cobbled together mess that could almost charitably be called a backpack. It certainly weighed enough to remind him of his overloaded backpack on that disastrous first trip after the Gulf refineries attack.

  To make matters even worse the weight was poorly balanced and the left shoulder of the jacket dug into his skin more and more with every step, no matter how many times he adjusted it. Before too long the skin was rubbed raw, and he sincerely hoped the trickles he felt under his shirt were from sweat. Eventually he bunched the shirt under the strap in a way that was tolerable enough to continue.

  Tiring himself out running to the cache meant he went even slower on the way back, and was forced to take a ludicrous number of breaks to rest and remove the jury rigged pack. Thanks to that the trip that had taken a couple hours there took almost five to get back, which meant midafternoon was getting on towards late afternoon by the time he left the highway and trudged up the old worn road leading to Newtown.

  He noticed that the town's defenders were back in their emplacements outside the town, so they must've been freed from wherever Vernon had stowed them. Trev was glad to see they were still taking their duties seriously even after their leader's betrayal. A few waved as he passed, although from the way some stood just staring at him he had to guess they had mixed feelings for the guy who'd brought the truck that had let their sheriff ditch them.