by Nathan Jones
Together they waited for what seemed like an eternity as the rumbling engines got louder and louder, until they could feel the vibration of so many wheels on pavement in the ground beneath them and the noise was loud enough to make their teeth rattle. Due to the shape of the hollow they were in they could see down the road to the west while being concealed from the east. Because of that they saw when the first vehicles passed them and continued on down the highway without slowing.
Lucas stiffened. “Those are ours!”
Trev nodded. He'd hoped as much with that brief glimpse, even from a distance, but now it was clear: the convoy was definitely US military. He didn't see any sign of FETF markings stenciled on any of the vehicles, which suggested that the purpose of the convoy was combat, not relief efforts. Although the six semis hauling boxy trailers and the twenty or so hauling fuel tank trailers suggested their purpose might be resupply.
“They could've been captured by Gold Bloc forces,” his dad argued.
Trev shook his head. A few of the troop transport trucks had folded back the canvas tarps normally covering the back, giving him a view of soldiers wearing the familiar standard issue uniforms riding inside. “They look US.”
“Which doesn't change much,” his uncle said. “Either way we keep hidden.”
That was something Trev could agree with. They had no reason to distrust the US military, and it was even possible they might receive some help. But at the same time they'd already lost so much and were barely hanging on with what they had. Not to mention they'd had bad outcomes before with people they otherwise should've been able to trust. Why risk that on the chance they might get a friendly wave from some passing soldiers?
It turned out the choice was taken out of their hands. From the other side of the rise they heard the crunch of tires on gravel as one of the vehicles pulled off the road, followed by a voice shouting orders at a volume raised over the noise of the vehicles continuing to pass them by.
Trev risked ducking around the cart and scrambling the few feet up the rise to peek over, and felt a sick feeling of dread in his gut when he saw one of the troop transport trucks parked there. The soldiers in the back had hopped down and were fanning out towards where he and his family were hiding, weapons at the ready.
“Come on out!” the noncom officer at point position bellowed. “We saw you bolt for cover, we know you're there!”
Trev ducked back down, biting back a curse. With no other obvious options available he unslung his AK-47 and set it aside. Then, motioning to his family to stay still, he reluctantly stood with his hands raised high.
A dozen weapons immediately turned his way, and Trev swallowed hard and did his best to keep his voice steady as he shouted over the racket of vehicles passing on the road. “We aren't looking for trouble. We're just trying to get home.”
He thought a few of the soldiers might have lowered their weapons slightly, looking relieved, but the officer's tone stayed sharp. “I need to ask everyone in your group to come out where we can see you, so we know you're not a threat. Don't worry, none of us want to hurt American citizens. This is just protocol . . . can't be too careful these days.”
The rest of his family began popping up, starting with Mary and followed soon after by Jim. Linda followed her brother up, looking exasperated at his recklessness, and Trev's parents and aunt and uncle quickly stood as well, after his dad and Lucas had taken a moment to set aside their own rifles.
At the sight of women and children the soldiers relaxed further, and all lowered their weapons. The officer finally lost a bit of his hard edge, nodding slightly at the group in general and ambling towards them so he wouldn't have to shout so loud. “All right, how about we chat until the convoy's well past?” To punctuate his words he gestured curtly, and a soldier behind him talked into some sort of radio headset to report in.
“Where you headed, if I could ask?” Lucas asked, alternating watching the soldiers and the trucks passing by.
The officer grunted. “The Rockies. Don't know if you've noticed but there's been a lot of Gold Bloc aircraft flying overhead, or at least there were a hundred miles ago. That's cause the nuclear war took out most of the satellites in orbit, so they have no easy way to find us. We're going to station up in the mountains and try to hold the line in a place where the roads are easy to defend, or take out if necessary so the enemy can't get at us. The blockheads will have a tough time digging us out there.”
Trev glanced at his uncle, who was looking grim and didn't seem about to say anything more. So he spoke up. “It just so happens we're headed that way ourselves. Central Utah, near the Manti-La Sal National Forest.”
“Never heard of it, but then again I'm a city boy from Baltimore.” The officer gave Trev a sharp look. “You wouldn't happen to be trying to hitch a ride, would you?” Trev shrugged and the man swore, but in a half-friendly way. “Well I don't blame you. The blockheads aren't exactly advancing fast, but even so they'll catch up to a group on foot before too long. Especially if you're hauling goods.”
Like they needed reminding. Staying ahead of the invading enemy had been on all their minds since leaving Newtown. “Is that a yes? If you have room, I mean,” Trev added. “We could pay you with some of our wheat.”
The officer snorted. “This morning we passed an abandoned town with silos full of grain. Tons and tons of the stuff. We've already loaded up as much as we can carry.”
Trev felt his heart sink. “Yeah, that's Newtown, where we got ours.” He glanced at his uncle. “What about gold? We have a bit we could pay you.”
“Gold is just shiny metal these days,” the man said, spitting off to one side. “I'd rather cram in a bit more wheat.” He hesitated, looking over Trev's group again. “Although I'm not a fan of the idea of leaving a bunch of women and children to the blockheads, so I might be willing to take a bad deal . . .”
There was a long pause as the officer turned to watch the convoy pass, then he shrugged. “I suppose eight people and a few cartfuls of stuff doesn't take up too much space. Better than having you on my conscience. The blockheads have been slaughtering Americans indiscriminately in some places, payback for what our former leaders did to their homes. I wouldn't want to leave decent seeming folks like you to that.”
He motioned to the parked truck. “I suppose you can all squeeze in the back, out of our way. You can stow your stuff in your foot space and on your laps, or sit on it if you have to. As for the carts, we can see if it's possible to tie one onto the back, but we'll definitely have to leave at least the other one behind.”
Trev couldn't help but grin at their good fortune, and his family's shoulders all slumped at once as if in a collective sigh of relief. “We don't know how to thank you.”
“You can thank us by paying your way, like you agreed. Don't worry, the price will be fair. For now let's get you loaded in.” The officer waited for a moment, then abruptly turned to the soldiers with him. “Did I sound like I was talking to myself?” he barked.
The soldiers exploded into activity, slinging their rifles over their shoulders so they could haul the carts over to the truck and lead Trev's family up into the utilitarian interior. Mary, Linda, and his mom and aunt squeezed down at the end of the benches while Trev and his dad, brother, and uncle accepted the sacks of wheat and other things the soldiers handed up to them, including the two smaller wagons. The 3 AKs and body armor the soldiers held onto out of caution, promising to return them once they dropped the family off.
It took a bit of doing to load all of that into the cramped space allowed, and they all ended up sitting on three piled sacks with their knees drawn up to their chests to allow for more piled even higher in the foot space, spilling out into the foot space the other soldiers would occupy almost to the back of the truck. Luckily in spite of their grumbling the soldiers didn't really seem to mind, and even took care to cover the sacks with a tarp so their boots wouldn't get them dirty.
In spite of the worries about space, in short or
der the soldiers had the carts emptied and everyone piled in, pulling one of the carts up behind them to tie in place across the back of the truck. It would block the exit from the vehicle, so they'd have to untie it or cut the ties if they needed to get out, but in an emergency they could hop over the sides instead.
Trev was slightly overwhelmed by the lengths the servicemen had gone to accommodate them, making their already cramped conditions downright claustrophobic and inconveniencing themselves every time they'd have to enter or exit the vehicle. He hoped it wouldn't cause them too much trouble, and as far as he was concerned whatever the officer, who introduced himself as Sergeant Ethan Davis of the Marine Corps, asked in payment was well worth it.
While they worked the family took the time to introduce themselves as well. Trev couldn't help but notice that even in her travel-worn state Mary drew admiring looks from a few of the soldiers, although they did their best not to be obvious about it. Even so his cousin must've noticed as well, because she was humming in slight embarrassment as she took her place at the end of the bench next to her mom.
Everything was done before the last tanks at the end of the convoy passed, giving the truck plenty of time to fall in at the back of the line. As the vehicle rumbled into motion everybody settled onto the benches as best they could. It was a tight squeeze, and a few of the soldiers grumbled good-naturedly, but Trev wasn't about to join the complaints no matter how uncomfortable he was.
They had a ride. The Rockies was a fairly vague term, but wherever it was these troops were going it would still bring them most of the way home, and more importantly away from the advancing blockheads.
Davis, seated just to Trev's right, stretched his legs out as much as possible over the sacks of wheat and around the legs of the soldier across from him. After a bit of shifting he leaned back against the tarp behind his head. “Don't suppose you guys are one of those musical families? Or any other entertainment type family act, you know?”
Trev smiled wryly. “After a winter of playing I can do a dozen or so songs on my harmonica, good enough you should be able to recognize them.”
The sergeant snorted. “Son, if you start playing a harmonica next to me I'll shove it where the sun don't shine.”
Down at the end of the truck Mary burst out laughing, then hastily put her hands over her mouth. Looking a bit embarrassed, she began humming a tune so quietly Trev could barely hear her.
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Lucky for you I lost it with all my other stuff a while back. Guess that's the end of my musical career.”
* * * * *
Once they got going there wasn't much to do but talk. Luckily it seemed like in spite of his slightly gruff exterior Davis was the talkative sort.
According to the sergeant the convoy had come from the east coast, where one of the few remaining refineries had been doing its best to pump out fuel at increased production ever since the Gulf burned. They'd initially been sent to Michigan to form a supply depot for US forces mobilizing to fight the Gold Bloc invaders, but after the Retaliation all bets were off.
In the confusion at least two high ranking officers, General Lassiter and General Erikson, had managed to break through the chaos on official airwaves to relay orders to any remaining forces to fall back to the Rockies, on foot if they had to, to regroup and mount a more organized defense in a setting where the terrain favored them.
When he learned about this convoy Lassiter had them swing by and pick up him and his remaining troops in northern Indiana, using the fuel the convoy brought to run dozens more vehicles for the long move west. Since then they'd been pushing hard along the highways south of I-80, using Trev's same reasoning that it was better to avoid the interstate itself. Their progress was spurred on by reports of Gold Bloc advance units taking the base the General had recently evacuated.
Along with information on the convoy itself, Trev and his family finally got news on where exactly the nukes had hit. Although nobody knew the exact details of the hours before the nuclear war, Sergeant Davis could at least offer some insight on what had gone down based on what he'd heard from the military bases where the higher ups had kept the US Armed Forces running as best they could.
By now it was fairly common knowledge that the Gold Bloc countries had been almost completely obliterated, destroying not just population centers but also blanketing lower population areas to make them unlivable. But the sergeant also had solid facts on where nukes had landed in the US.
The east and west coasts were almost completely gone, which wasn't much of a surprise. The Gold Bloc forces had been avoiding those areas and pushing south farther inland anyway, and since those locations still had a fairly sizable population they made prime targets. Other places all over the interior of the US that still had large populations had been nuked as well, which the Gold Bloc was able to determine thanks to still having intact satellites that could give them highly accurate data.
Military bases had also been targeted, even abandoned ones. That included Hill Air Force Base up near Ogden in Northern Utah, and news of that had the family exchanging worried looks. The site of the blast should've been far enough away to not threaten their friends and family in Aspen Hill, and the prevailing winds should carry the fallout in a different direction, but it was still too close for comfort. It also almost certainly meant that the Great Salt Lake was now irradiated, and northern Utah in general was best avoided.
Trev could only hope that any people still living there had managed to get away, at least out of the fallout zone.
Another target for the Gold Bloc's retaliatory nukes were the US's nuclear silos; it looked like future nuclear strikes were off the table, at least for the countries that had been hit. And last of all, the few deep underground military installations where the higher ups effectively ran the military were targeted, and if the blasts didn't destroy them outright then they were pinned down below ground for good, likely without adequate air filtration and with radioactive water seeping in from above.
In total the deaths of a hundred million or more US citizens were estimated, either immediately or shortly afterwards due to lethal doses of radiation in the fallout zones. In spite of that horrendous death toll only a surprisingly small area of US soil had been hit and irradiated, the strikes surgically planned to take out large numbers of people without making too much of the land unlivable.
It looked like the surviving Gold Bloc forces wanted to keep the US intact so they could take it, now that their own countries had been destroyed. They obviously planned to sweep through and wipe out the scattered, isolated pockets of citizens who'd survived both the winter and the nuclear strikes.
“What do you think of the decision to launch nukes?” Trev asked.
Davis scowled at him. “Judging the actions of my superiors is above my pay grade. But I will say I think this situation could've been handled better. We warned the Gold Bloc we'd nuke them right from the start, and warned them and warned them again. That's the problem if you ask me. We went straight to the nuclear option the moment it looked like the Gold Bloc would enter Canada, even though they'd been invited. Then we didn't have the ba-”
He cut off and gave the women sitting near the cab a sheepish look. “That is, we didn't make good on our threat, which just made us look weak. Then we made the same threat with our ultimatum for them to pull out in a month and didn't make good on it then, either. I'm not saying we're entirely to blame, and the Gold Bloc did invade us and give us no other real option, but we might've avoided all this loss of life if we'd just taken a stronger stance when it really mattered and not thrown all our cards on the table when the stakes were low.”
“You ask me, I say the blockheads got exactly what they deserved,” a soldier seated on the bench near the back muttered. “They invade our country, steal our stuff, and put all our people in prison camps, even though they were warned again and again what would happen if they tried it. Not to mention they blew up our refineries in the first place and started all of this.
You ask me, they all deserve to melt in a mushroom cloud.”
Davis barked out a sharp order, and the young man stiffened to attention where he was seated on the bench. Trev couldn't help but notice that the other soldiers were murmuring in approval, though.
The sergeant certainly didn't approve. “I don't care if they're our enemies, son, that's a billion or more people, mostly innocent civilians, who lost their lives when the nukes launched. You could spend the rest of your life counting that high. After what I just heard I'm tempted to make you.”
The soldier stayed at attention, but he looked sullen. “No offense, sir, but we've lost a lot ourselves. And they're the ones who started it.”
The sergeant abruptly leaned back, looking tired. “Nobody should be celebrating this one, boys. The world came to a standstill after the Middle East Crisis, the first use of nukes as weapons since World War 2, and the aftermath of it should've been enough to fuel all our nightmares for centuries.
“Instead we ended up in the middle of a global thermonuclear war orders of magnitude greater than even that tragedy. We're looking at a sixth of humanity dead in an eyeblink, and even the most generous estimates predict another sixth or more will follow thanks to radiation and nuclear winter. It could've easily ended up with nukes flying from everywhere to everywhere, ending life on this planet. There's never been a disaster like this in all of human history, and I pray to God there never will be again.”
Uncomfortable silence settled for a long while. Trev spent it trying in vain to picture the unimaginable death toll, and he was sure he wasn't the only one. The news footage coming out of Israel and Iran after the Middle East Crisis had truly been horrific, showing death and suffering on a nationwide scale. Field hospitals treating survivors suffering terminal doses of radiation, frantic evacuation of fallout zones, massive refugee camps full of people who wouldn't be able to go home in their lifetime, and perhaps not in their children's or their children's children's lifetime, or even longer.
