That was something he'd rather not think about, though. To distract himself he held out his hand for the other quarter. “Mind?”
Lewis shrugged again and handed it over. “Go for it. You're the one who has to run after any coins you send flying.”
Yeah, that was exactly what Raul wanted to happen while Carrie was watching. But he was bored and wasn't about to back down, so he took a try.
He actually ended up missing catches a lot less often than he expected, and Lewis complimented him that he'd done much worse on his first tries. Raul didn't try anything fancy, and after chasing down missed coins a dozen or so times he decided he'd had enough fun.
Carrie tried next and did much worse, although she seemed to improve faster. Since she'd been tossing casual insults his way the whole time Raul took his turn he delighted in returning the favor, until finally she threw the quarters at him. At that point Lewis intervened before it could turn into a coin fight.
Probably a good thing.
They settled back down to waiting. Raul was just about to challenge Lewis to some arm wrestling, purely to escape boredom of course, when the military's mechanics showed up to go over their truck. It didn't take long for them to do a bit of quick maintenance on the big engine, at which point they gave it the thumbs up and declared it would probably make it to San Antonio without incident.
“It's in way better shape than the junkers some other people brought,” one soldier said as he slammed the hood. “Although it looks as if it's been sitting unused in the elements for a long time.”
Well that was true enough. “It was upside down in a creek for almost a year,” Raul replied.
The man gaped at him. “And you managed to haul it out and get it running?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You folks must've really wanted to come along.”
The mechanics headed on to the next vehicle, and about a half hour later Faraday called Aspen Hill's truck up to be refueled. Instead of having them return to the lot afterwards the lieutenant had them pull out to the southern end of Moab, where the rest of the convoy was lining up for the trip. They ended up closer to the back, with a dozen or so civilian vehicles behind them and then the military's rearguard.
After that it was back to waiting. Lewis finally remembered he'd brought a deck of playing cards, at which point Raul had to fight the urge to clobber him for not thinking of it sooner, and they spent the next few hours playing a variety of games.
A little after noon a soldier running down the line surprised them all by informing them they should get ready to move out, including relieving themselves if they could, since stops would be infrequent and only if needed.
The notice of departure was actually way sooner than Raul had expected, although he wasn't complaining. His companions quickly settled into their seats, while Raul took a minute to empty his bladder before taking his place behind the steering wheel.
At which point they waited probably another half hour for final preparations, the last ten minutes or so with the engines running and windows rolled up against the fumes. Just more of the expected “hurry up and wait” you saw with any group this large.
Finally the vehicles ahead of theirs started inching forward. Raul shifted into first and started after them, braking a few times from false starts. Then, gradually, the entire convoy spread out and sped up until they were all going around 40, then slowly bumped that up to 50 before dropping down to 45. Apparently a few of the vehicles couldn't manage any better speed and slowed the rest down.
He didn't care. They weren't exactly racing towards their destination, but they were on their way.
Chapter Fourteen
San Antonio
The drive south was fairly uneventful.
The convoy pushed on relentlessly, with surprisingly few delays or unplanned stops due to issues. When they were forced to stop for a breakdown or scouts reporting some potential problem up ahead, Faraday tried to squeeze in other necessary tasks like refueling and hastily setting up temporary latrines.
They made it to a town in Arizona called Alpine without issue, where General Erikson intended to stop for the night. The camping spot was well planned, since by then the sun had set and the military wanted time to settle in before full dark.
There was a modest sized river there that Lewis didn't know the name of, but it looked as if other nearby communities had congregated to the town for the water. From what he could see the decision hadn't ended well for them: in spite of the small cluster of houses and larger sprawl of tents and lean-tos, only a few dozen people emerged to gawk at the stopping convoy. They were all ragged and emaciated, so low energy few even cheered the arrival of trucks.
The convoy drove right past Alpine and continued on for several hundred yards, around a bend in the road until a copse of trees growing along the stream blocked their view of the town. It was obvious the higher-ups in the military didn't want to trouble the small place by parking a hundred trucks right in the middle of it. Although “middle” was a bit of an exaggeration, since that many vehicles would stretch right through and out for a ways on either side.
Soldiers trotted down the line, stopping at each truck to tell them to go ahead and set up camp. Lewis and his companions were nearly done with that when Lieutenant Faraday and a squad of his men passed by, all carrying boxes of food and other supplies.
“For the town?” Lewis called. The lieutenant just nodded as he continued on, so with a shrug Lewis went back to pitching his tent.
He had an idea though, and after making the few necessary preparations for sleeping he gathered together a small pack of goods. While Gutierrez and Carrie settled in for dinner he headed back up the road towards town.
He met Faraday and his men on their way back through the copse of trees, empty-handed and looking grim. “They got the supplies?” he asked.
The lieutenant nodded. “Tore right in and started ravenously devouring them right on the road, poor people. They're in a sad state, but I didn't have the heart to ask their story.”
“It's a miracle even this many survived out here on their own, in this landscape,” Lewis agreed.
The junior officer gave him a shrewd glance, including the pack on his shoulder. “What's your plan here?”
Lewis shrugged. “They may be starving but they might have other things to trade, especially for food.”
“I figured.” Faraday sighed. “I have orders to keep our troops away from town. No interference. General Erikson plans to speak to these people and offer them his protection and aid in living here, or if they want to evacuate a place in the convoy.”
“So I can't visit the town?” Lewis asked, feeling a bit disappointed.
The lieutenant hesitated. “You're a civilian so I can't order you not to,” he said reluctantly. “But I don't think it's a good idea. Those poor folks looked seriously on edge.”
Lewis wasn't one to ignore good advice, but he just planned a friendly visit. “I'll go say hi and gauge the situation from there.”
It was obvious the man didn't like it, but he shrugged. “Be careful,” was all he said.
Lewis finished making his way through the copse. The people of Alpine had gathered up their gifts from the military and started making their way home, but one or two were glancing back and caught sight of him. They murmured to their friends, who all stopped and turned to look back at Lewis with little emotion.
He waved, but got no response. “Hi,” he called. “I'm Lewis Halsson.”
Again no response other than unfriendly looks. Lewis slowed, then stopped, uncertain for the first time. But finally one of the men in front nodded curtly. “What do you want?”
Not exactly a warm welcome, but he'd take it. Lewis started forward again. “Just wanted to say hi. Share news of the outside world, hear how things have gone for you. You know.”
After exchanging a few resentful looks the group turned and started back towards town again. “We're not interested in news,” their spokesman called over his shoulder.
Um, what? Lewis had never met anyone who wasn't at least a little curious about what was going on in the world around them. “Well maybe we can talk about trade,” he persisted, trailing after them. “Convoys are going to be coming by here regularly if things go well at this trade summit. Alpine could become a stopover, which would be good for your tow-”
That got their attention, but not in a good way. “Trade?” one of the women snapped, whirling to face him. “Do we look like we have anything to trade?” The others were also turning, faces openly hostile.
Lewis stopped again, uncertainty giving way to nervousness. Faraday's advice was sounding more and more sound. “Well you never know,” he tried. “Now that we have trade opportunities in Mexico all sorts of things are more valuable.”
“We don't want to trade,” the spokesman spat. “We don't want to share news. We don't want anything to do with you people!”
That didn't seem to apply to the much-needed supplies they'd accepted from the military. Lewis wasn't sure how they could hold such an irrational position when they were obviously so desperately in need of help.
“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Sorry to bother you.” He started to turn back.
“Where were you?” the man shouted after him, to yells of approval from his friends. “You weren't here when we were all starving to death over the last two winters. Or when the blockheads came and murdered or kidnapped half of us. And now after it's almost too late, when there's just a few of us left, you show up?”
“I'm not part of the military,” Lewis replied, trying to edge away without being too noticeable about it. Starved and weakened as these people were he was sure he could outrun them, or overpower a few at once if it became necessary. Unless of course they were armed; he had his 1911 in its underarm holster, but he'd left his body armor in the truck and felt more than a little vulnerable.
There was still time to talk this out, and if nothing else it would let him get a bit more distance between him and the irate townspeople. He kept talking and backing away. “I'm with the civilians in the convoy who came to make our own trade deals. I'm sorry for what you went through. My town also suffered during the last year and a half.”
“Did you?” another woman said with a sneer. “You don't look like you've been missing meals. You've got nice, clean clothes. You came in a truck. And whatever you've got in that backpack, you wanted to see if we wanted to make trades for it?” She laughed, half hysterically.
Yeah, coming here had definitely been a mistake. “Sorry,” he said again, backing away a bit faster. “I'll just go.”
“If you were really sorry you'd give us that stuff, and anything else you've got,” the spokesman said. “We sure need it more than you do. I'm sure whatever “suffering” you've been through, you can still afford to lose a bit.”
Lewis almost lost his temper. The guy was dismissing how he'd been forced to watch his dad sicken and die horribly for almost a month. And losing friends to starvation, sickness, and violence. And having to abandon the home he'd worked so hard to create, and leave his town, and spend all day every day on backbreaking or mind-numbing labor to keep his family getting by.
Whatever this town had suffered, that gave them no justification to be resentful and hostile to those in a better situation than them. It didn't make anything better, and would actually make things worse if they went out of their way to alienate those who might've been willing and able to help them.
Like him.
Without another word Lewis turned and started back down the highway towards the convoy. Lesson learned about trying to make trade opportunities where there weren't any. To his relief aside from a few shouts and jeers the townspeople behind him didn't pursue, and when he glanced back after twenty yards he saw they'd all started back to their town. At that point he felt it was safe enough to break into a trot and try to get some distance between himself and the unpleasantness he'd just experienced.
Lewis had made it halfway back through the copse, neither the convoy nor the town in sight along the highway, when he heard a shout. He turned to his right to see a tall, scrawny young man in tattered clothes winding between the tree trunks toward him at a run, expression urgent.
Lewis paused to wait for him. Had the kid come from the town to apologize? Or maybe some people had changed their mind and wanted to try trading after all? Or more likely he'd come out of desperation to beg for help for himself or his fam-
Ten feet away the kid skidded to a halt, set his feet, and whipped a small caliber pistol out of his pocket. He lifted it in shaking hands to point at Lewis's face.
For an eternal instant Lewis froze, staring at the gun. He could see almost directly down the barrel, which looked way bigger than it really was. But apparently holding still wasn't enough, because after waiting almost ten seconds in that frozen moment his attacker seemed to get pissed off by something he did, or maybe didn't do.
“What's wrong with you?” the kid shouted. “Are you trying to get yourself shot?”
Was this guy nuts? What was he talking about? “It's cool,” Lewis said as calmly as he could. “I'm not going to try anything.”
“Then why are you acting like you don't have a gun pointed at your face?” his attacker demanded. “Why aren't you freaking out?”
Oh.
Lewis might not have looked like it, but he was definitely freaking out. Actually he half expected he was going to die, and the thought of never seeing Jane again, not being there for his mom and sister, was nearly driving him out of his mind with panic. His outward lack of reaction was a combination of experience, self control, and a quirk of his particular temperament, but he realized that most people in this situation would be losing it.
No wonder the guy was freaking out himself. He probably thought Lewis was planning to go for his gun any second. And he wouldn't be completely wrong there.
It was too late for Lewis to pretend to cower and gibber, so he decided to try something different. “Dude, you think I'm not freaking out?” he demanded. “I just pissed myself!”
His attacker's eyes widened in surprise, then darted downwards to confirm that claim. They stayed down, brow furrowing in the beginnings of confusion as the robber realized Lewis's pants showed no sign of any dark wet spots.
Lewis moved as soon as the kid took his eyes off his face, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Ten feet really wasn't all that far if you were quick, and while he couldn't match Trev's impressive reaction time he did just fine on the action side of things.
He caught his attacker's hand holding the gun and shoved it aside, then followed through with a shoulder to the young man's chest. That knocked his scrawny attacker off his feet and backwards to the ground, with Lewis set to land hard on top of him.
He heard the sharp retort of the gun going off and felt the slide move slightly in his grip, blocked from chambering a new round. Half a second later he came down with his full weight on his knee directly into the kid's stomach as they both slammed into the ground. His attacker made a strangled sound, which Lewis cut off with an elbow to his throat. Then he settled into a position to keep him pinned down.
It only took a few moments to realize the fight had completely gone out of the guy. Lewis pried the pistol from his grip and leapt back and away, chambering a new round as he did so and aiming at the chest of his prone target.
Half a second later the enormity of the risk he'd just taken hit him nearly hard enough to make him stagger, combined with the endorphin rush of still being alive.
The kid was rolling on the pavement clutching at his hand, swearing through choking coughs. “I think you broke my fingers!” he whined.
Lewis laughed raggedly. “Dude, you mean the fingers of the hand holding the gun you were pointing at me?” That prompted more swearing. Lewis waited until the kid ran down before continuing. “You know, when I was just a few years younger than you my dad taught me a valuable lesson: that if I was going to start a fight I'd better be ready
to take as good as I gave.”
His attacker paused for a moment to stare up at him in blank confusion. “It's the other way around, idiot.”
“Really?” Lewis dropped into a crouch and grabbed the guy's hand, feeling at his fingers. Yeah, at least one was broken. The kid screamed in response, which he ignored. “Here's how it goes. You insult someone, you better be ready to get insulted back. You punch someone, you'd better be ready to take a punch, and same with stabbing or shooting someone. If you make an unjustified attack, and someone uses the same amount of force back to defend themselves, you have nobody to blame but yourself.”
“Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about.” The kid writhed slightly, yanking at his arm. “Let me go!”
Lewis did, but only so he could shove the captured pistol into the waistband of his pants and get out some zip ties. He started binding the guy's wrists, careful of his injury. “I'm saying if someone beats you up, people will be on your side. But if you start a fight and the other guy kicks your butt, nobody's going to care other than to think you got what was coming to you.”
He finished pulling the tie tight and hauled the kid to his feet. “Speaking of which, let's go find someone in charge and tell them you tried to rob me at gunpoint.”
At that moment he heard a shout from the direction of the convoy. He looked through the trees to see a squad of soldiers approaching along the highway on high alert. They must've heard the gunshot and were investigating.
Well that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, although the situation could always end badly if one side or the other lost their cool. “The situation's under control!” he shouted at the soldiers, who stiffened and raised their weapons to point his way. He hoped the safeties were still on.
Nuclear Winter | Book 2 | First Spring Page 23
