by K. M. Fawkes
Pete found that his outfit suited him just as well as Marie’s suited her, and though it made him incredibly happy to have on clean clothes, his suspicions doubled.
“Now what?” Marie asked.
“Now we go downstairs and find out what’s up. Do chores if they want us to. Make ourselves useful and harmless. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to stay for a second before we get sent back out on the road.”
“I’ll get on my knees and beg,” Marie replied.
Thomas was downstairs when they arrived, and greeted them easily. “We’ve got a pair of horses hitched to a plow, which is good for the road, but all the sidewalks along Main Street need to be cleared of snow as well. That’s the part you’re going to be helping with.”
“We’re happy to help,” Marie replied. “It’s the least we can do after the hospitality you’ve shown us. I feel like a new woman after that hot shower.”
“How are you in a kitchen setting?” Thomas asked Marie.
“I can hold my own,” Marie said slowly, touching her leg where she’d stabbed herself.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll get you working with the kitchen detail. We generally don’t cook on a household-by-household basis. Meals are communal.”
“Point me in the right direction, and I’ll go there.”
“Hilda will take you with her.”
“Hilda?” Marie asked.
“The woman who brought you breakfast.”
Pete stared at Marie, already uncomfortable with this setup. The question had been a weird one, and though he did want to help these people with their chores, he also wasn’t interested in becoming part of their commune.
He definitely wasn’t interested in them taking Marie away from him.
Before he could say anything, though, Thomas turned toward him. “Pete, if you don’t mind coming with me, we’ll get to work clearing the snow.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Pete lied.
He didn’t like any of this and his bullshit radar was absolutely screaming in his head. But he also didn’t see a way around it. At least outside, working, he’d be able to get a better picture of Clearview and how things worked.
As he put on his boots and coat, he noticed that their packs were still sitting by the front door. If he brought them upstairs later, would that be presumptuous? It was important that they make the right impression on Thomas. He didn’t want them suspicious of him. Not when he was so dependent on them.
But he wanted those packs. Wanted them handy, in case something happened.
At that moment, Hilda appeared from the back of the house. “Ready to go?” she asked Marie.
“You bet.”
“See you later,” Pete said, giving Marie a look that he hoped she could read. He tried to beam all sorts of messages through his eyes. Head on a swivel. Rein in the nosy journalist. Don’t give anything away. Make sure you actually come back to me. And then she was gone, and whatever was going to happen would happen.
Thomas had two snow shovels waiting out front. The sky was clear, the air crisp. There were a lot of the townsfolk out and about, many clearing snow and some on other errands. Now that it wasn’t snowing, the windmills were clearly visible. They were larger than Pete had expected, and he wondered where the funding had come from.
The plow Thomas had mentioned had reached their end of the street, the horses breathing hard with the effort it was taking to pull the thing. Talk about being in another world. It was like Pete had been transported back in time. In between the wagon’s two sets of wheels sat a wedge-shaped plow that was angled to one side, perfect for scooping and moving snow. In the body of the wagon lay what Pete guessed was the contraption they used to adjust the plow.
The thing was a marvel of engineering. It probably only cleared about three feet at a time, but those three feet were well and truly cleared. The plow would have to pass up and down the street several times to complete the job, but… well, it definitely did the job.
Most surprising to Pete, who hadn’t spent any time around horses, was that it took only one man to control several thousand pounds of animal.
“Do you have more livestock?” Pete asked, thinking it must be too cold for the animals to be kept outside.
“We have a large barn next to the windmills,” Thomas said. “A few milk cows. Goats, as well. And of course, laying hens. Plus the horses."
A young man arrived, pulling a narrow, wagon-like contraption with runners on the bottom, like a sleigh.
“We’ll load the snow into the wagon,” Thomas said. “Pushing it around on the street doesn’t solve any problems.”
They stood in the clear strip created by the snowplow and began shoveling snow from the sidewalk into the wagon.
“Where does it go from here?” Pete asked.
“Edge of town,” Thomas said. “There’s a downward slope heading away from town, so when it melts, it goes in the right direction. Plus, we use it to add to our fortifications on that side.”
Fortifications. Pete wanted to ask what kind of trouble Thomas was expecting, but felt the question was too probing. Instead, he bent his back to the task at hand, intent on proving that he didn’t have any probing questions at all, and wasn’t going to cause any trouble. No sir, no way. No trouble here.
When the wagon was full of snow, Thomas said they could take a breather until another wagon showed up. “What do you think of Clearview so far?” he asked as they leaned on their shovels.
“You have an amazing setup here,” Pete replied. “Do you have trouble keeping everyone on the same page?”
“Everyone here has chosen to be here. They understand that the only way to make a place like this work is to cooperate. We have electricity, but not enough to run everything the way it used to run, which means a lot of the work is labor-intensive. And when there’s an aberration like yesterday’s snowfall, which we hadn’t expected, everyone pitches in and then goes back to their assigned work.”
It sounded like a complete cult, but Pete didn’t think he should say that. “Looks like a well-run operation,” he said instead.
“It is.”
Thomas’s pride in Clearview was evident, and Pete wondered—not for the first time—what exactly Thomas’s position was here. How much had he done to make Clearview his own?
How much had he done to make the people buy into it?
“What kind of communication have you had from the outside?” he asked. “Have there been any announcements or broadcasts about how to… proceed?”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed, though he kept his mouth shut. Just then, a teenage girl arrived with an empty wagon, and saved him from having to answer.
“Time to get back to work,” he said.
Thomas had used the interruption as an excuse not to give Pete an answer. That didn’t mean Pete had failed to guess what his silence meant. If there had been a broadcast—though how that would have happened was beyond Pete—it seemed as though Thomas hadn’t liked what it said.
Still, why would he hide it from Pete, who wasn’t actually part of his town, but was just passing through?
As they worked, townsfolk came to consult with Thomas while Pete kept shoveling, filling up the wagon and debating about whether to ask any of the many other questions in his head. When Thomas finished with one of his many consultations, he decided to go ahead.
There were things he needed to know. Things that might help him decide whether he and Marie were safe here or not. Hell, even Thomas’s refusal to answer questions could give him information.
“Do you get a lot of trouble here?” he asked casually.
Thomas seemed to grow unduly tense about the question. “Why do you ask?”
“You had sentries posted in a storm.”
“The world has changed, Pete. We just want to be ready in case that change isn’t for the better. We’ve worked hard to make Clearview what it is, and we’re not prepared to hand it over or abandon it.”
“Fair enough.” Pete shoveled a
few more scoops of snow. “Do you ever accept new members to the town?”
“That requires a vote.”
Pete pressed his lips together. A vote from whom? The whole town? A council? He didn’t think they’d want to stay—their best chance was still getting to real civilization in Anchorage—but it seemed strange that they would require permission to move here.
Also, why did Thomas seem so certain the town was in for trouble? Given how isolated Clearview was, it seemed unlikely anyone would bother. Sure, the Mueller convicts might make their way here, but that seemed like something that would happen by accident, rather than through planning.
Yes, Pete wondered whether he should warn Thomas about that possibility. But that would mean letting them know he and Marie had been lying from the start.
The same old-fashioned bell that had announced the start of running water sounded again, breaking through his thoughts—and keeping him from asking any other questions.
“Lunchtime,” Thomas said.
Saved by the bell, Pete thought. His gut was still telling him something was off, and he needed to know what it was. He just didn’t think Thomas was going to help him. No matter how many questions he asked.
Thomas rested his shovel against the closest building. “Lunch takes place in two shifts so the sentries can eat. I’m in the first shift, which means you are as well.”
Pete followed the other man into a series of cargo containers that had been opened to form a large dining area. There was a kitchen at the back, and the space out front was filled with long tables and chairs.
People stood in line with trays, much like a school cafeteria, and the simple task brought back a world of memories from Pete’s youth. Food fights. Goofing off. It had been a long time since he’d thought about his childhood. He suddenly wondered about the children of Clearview. Had they been attending school before the solar flare? Or were they homeschooled right here in town?
Marie was behind the counter, passing out food. She had a faint sheen of sweat on her face, but looked fine otherwise. And Pete wasn’t the only one noticing how beautiful she was when she smiled. One of the older men in line looked smitten.
When it was Pete’s turn, she passed him a bowl of stew and a freshly made roll.
“Made in a wood-burning oven,” Marie said. “I never would have thought I’d be cooking in such a thing. Strange place.”
“It sure is,” Pete said, wishing his head would figure out what his guts were worried about.
Thomas directed Pete to one of the tables, while he went and mingled with the townsfolk. Everyone followed him with their eyes, and when he approached, their faces lit up. It felt almost cult-like. Or, maybe Pete had gotten used to big-city living, where no one knew anyone else and everyone was suspicious of their neighbors. Or maybe Pete’s most recent interaction with the convicts and David Clyde had tainted his view of humanity.
If Clearview was Thomas’s creation, it was no wonder people looked up to him. They would survive because they’d chosen to stick with Thomas and his vision for the future.
Maybe he was just creating drama where there wasn’t any.
Or maybe he wasn’t.
An older man sat next to Pete, gave him a friendly nod, and introduced himself as Kevin.
“Thomas has been filling me in about how things work in Clearview,” Pete said. “Do you have a particular job when you aren’t clearing snow?”
“I’m an engineer,” he said. “I look after the windmills.”
“They sure are something,” Pete said. When in doubt, give a compliment. “I was thinking about the expense. Were they here before? Did Clearview put them up?”
Kevin turned and looked at Pete.
“Sorry,” Pete said. “Too many questions?”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Kevin said.
Pete drew back from the aggression of the statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Then Kevin burst into laughter. “I’m just busting your balls. You should have seen your face.”
Pete laughed along with him, though he hated that brand of humor—funny at the cost of someone else’s discomfort. He stuck to eating and observing. Thomas socialized, but for everyone else, lunch was a down-to-business affair. There was very little chitchat as people bent over their bowls, spooning food into their mouths. It was like they didn’t have time to talk.
Or they weren’t supposed to.
The moment Pete’s bowl was empty, Thomas was by his side saying it was time to get back to work.
They returned to where they’d left their shovels earlier, and Pete went back to work without any complaint. This was a hell of a lot easier than some of the things he’d done for the National Guard, and besides, the quiet of their work gave him time to think about what was going on around him.
Pete, Thomas, and the other men assigned to snow removal finished the task a couple of hours after lunch.
“What should I do next?” Pete asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“If you have it in you to chop some wood, that would be helpful,” Thomas said. “I like to have a good supply on hand.”
Pete said he’d be happy to, and Thomas told him to head down the street toward the barn. He set off, following the distinct sound of wood being chopped, his head on a swivel as he walked through town.
It was pretty much just as he’d observed last night, only now it wasn’t snowing, and he could see that there were people out all over the place, tending animals and winter gardens, shoveling snow from front stoops, hanging out laundry.
It was your typical small town. Only no one was smiling or talking to each other. No one was leaning up against a wall and laughing. No one was smoking a cigarette.
In short, no one was acting human.
When he got to the place Thomas had told him about, he found a crew of four other men. One of them handed him an axe.
“Do you know how to use this?” the man asked dryly.
Pete was tempted to joke with the man, say something about keeping the sharp end pointed away from himself, but the guy was all business. None of the others even bothered to introduce themselves, and there was definitely no joking around.
So instead of making a joke, Pete got to work.
If he had to guess, he’d say the others had been instructed not to talk to him. Or they had the most reserved personalities he’d come across. Still, given what he’d seen in the town itself, he wondered. It had been his experience that when groups of people worked together, there was usually some good-natured chatter. Here there was none, so he took his cue and worked silently, speaking only when spoken to, or if he had a question concerning their task.
He was grateful when the dinner bell finally rang, because he was tired and hungry, and frustrated with the lack of interaction. What was the point of getting out into town to figure out how it worked if no one was going to talk to him? One of the men took the axe from him and carried it into the nearby building while the rest of the men headed toward the cafeteria without another word to Pete.
It was strange and somewhat rude, and certainly fed into his sense of unease. He didn’t need them to be his friends. But he did wonder what they were going to say to Thomas about him.
And with that thought, he started to see exactly how things worked in Clearview. It was the armed forces on crack. Each person reporting on the others, until you could never tell who was your friend—or what anyone was going to say about you, true or false.
He walked by himself to the cafeteria and got in line. Marie wasn’t behind the counter this time, and he wondered nervously if she’d also been given a different assignment. He didn’t like not knowing where she was.
He took his food to a table, not even bothering to look for a friendly face, and was pleasantly surprised when Marie showed up and sat next to him.
“I’m done for the day,” she told him.
“Did you get to eat?” he asked.
“In the back, with the other kitchen staff.”<
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Before he could tell her about what he’d observed—and ask her if she’d experienced anything like it—Thomas made his way over to them.
“You two can head back to the house,” he said. “I’ve got a few things to take care of and then I’ll join you. Get the fire going in the front room, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Pete said. “We’ll see you later.”
Since post-meal socializing didn’t seem to be encouraged, Pete and Marie left the cafeteria as soon as Pete had finished eating. Outside, Marie linked her arm though his and pulled him close.
“I think they’re going to ask us to stay,” she said quietly. “A couple of families were out of state when the solar flare happened. Hilda says their quarters are available, and that younger people who are willing to work are welcome.”
Well that was… weird.
“Hmm,” Pete said.
“Hmm what?”
“Thomas told me it gets put to a vote.” Pete looked around to make sure they were alone. “Did you get a funny vibe at all?”
“Funny how?”
“I’m not sure,” Pete said slowly. “I can’t shake the sense there’s something we haven’t been told. And the guys I chopped wood with wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“That’s weird. Everyone in the kitchen was really friendly toward me. The only vibe I got was from Jack. He was assigned to the kitchen today and I’m pretty sure he has the hots for me.”
Pete felt a repeat of that earlier twinge of jealousy. “Do I need to challenge him to a duel?”
“Not yet,” Marie said, laughing.
Suddenly, the sky lit up, glowing green with orange flashes.
“There you go,” Marie said. “Aurora borealis.”
Spikes of light seemed to flash upward through the green in straight lines, and then red swirled across the spectrum. Violet even made an appearance, twisting through the colors like a shadow.
Awestruck, Pete and Marie stood side by side, watching the magnificent display until they began to feel the cold.
