Nuclear Winter | Book 2 | First Spring

by Jones, Nathan

  Erikson finally let his frown show. “Not “new”. We remain the United States, unbroken in spite of everything.”

  Rodriguez nodded agreeably. “Of course, of course. Unbroken, aside from being reduced to a military dictatorship huddled in the mountains of three or at most four of your previously held 50 states, with a mere fragment of your former population or military.”

  “A fragment that stomped on the Gold Bloc when they came for us,” Grimes growled. “Maybe you should be worrying about our military hardware and soldiers.”

  “Perhaps,” the secretary said, not seeming particularly bothered. “But you've shown no sign of aggressiveness, and if I might say so you've got enough enemies without picking fights with your one reliable source of food.” He abruptly clapped his hands. “But enough of such unpleasantness, let's get you settled! Although first I'm afraid I must lay out some rules for the summit.”

  “All right,” Erikson said.

  The secretary motioned to the weapon at the General's waist. “As you may be aware, other cultures are not quite as relaxed about everyone carrying guns as you Americans. To add to that we're hosting groups that may, ah, share some mutual resentment.”

  You think? Lewis thought dryly.

  “I'm not disarming,” Erikson said curtly. “Not the way the world is now.”

  Rodriguez smiled blandly. “As you like. Of course you and other dignitaries from your convoy are welcome to an armed escort, and I fully understand why you'd like to see to protecting your own vehicles and campsite. But I must insist your escort keep weapons holstered, safeties on, unless there's an emergency. And off-duty soldiers and civilians in the marketplace must be unarmed. We have our own soldiers to see about keeping the peace.”

  The General glanced at a few of his senior officers, likely looking for subtle signals. After a moment he turned back. “That seems reasonable.”

  “Good. Second, you are not to enter the campsites or parking areas of the other summit attendees, even with permission.” The secretary's bland smile turned apologetic. “Too much potential for unpleasantness. Any interaction you wish to have with other factions can be done in the marketplace or at our summit facilities.”

  Erikson nodded. “I understand, and agree.”

  “Excellent. By that same reasoning, we strongly discourage fraternization with other factions in anything but a carefully regulated trade or negotiation setting. Specifically, we would request you keep your people away from the CCZ visitors wherever possible. We've extended to them the same request.”

  “Again,” the General said, “I fully agree. Even if there were some wider negotiations we could make with the blockheads, that's not what we're here for.”

  “Quite right. Some accord on peace would be good for everyone, but you're here to reach an agreement on long term equitable trading with Mexico.” Rodriguez bowed low and motioned to the command tent in the early stages of being erected. “If all of that is understood then I'll leave you to set up camp, while I go and receive any further compliments, instructions, or other details the President may have for you. I'll return shortly and at that time be at your disposal for the duration of your visit. Enjoy your stay, General.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Market

  “Well, I suppose he could've been even more insulting,” Faraday said once Rodriguez had left.

  Lewis shrugged. “He probably had instructions to be polite, but also make it very clear who was in the position of power in these proceedings.”

  “Oh I get that.” The lieutenant sighed. “I guess it just burns me to see my country at the bottom of the totem pole, after we've spent so long on top. Oh well, we'll work our way back up.” He clapped Lewis on the shoulder as he started past him. “I'd better get back to work. We'll send people around with instructions on how to behave at the marketplace, then I suppose you'll be free to go find deals.”

  Lewis nodded and got to work setting up camp, Carrie and Gutierrez joining him in the work. But they were interrupted by a call from one side. To Lewis's surprise he saw that Ned Orban's vividly painted truck was parked there. The trader was approaching, waving as he came.

  “We're off to an exciting start, aren't we?” Ned said, grinning. “Senor Rodriguez certainly wants to give us a challenge with our trading.”

  That was one way to look at it. “As long as we can trade for what we need,” Lewis replied, unsurprised the trader had also listened in on the conversation.

  “Ah, I believe you mean trade for what you need, along with raking in a healthy profit.” Ned clapped him on the shoulder. “I just came around to let you know that I'm going to be leaving Paul to watch my trade goods while I go out and find customers. If you're unsatisfied with the assurances of our military sentries I'd be glad to ask him to keep an eye on your vehicle as well.”

  That was actually a pretty generous offer. There was no telling how often Carrie would be gone on business for Grimes, and if Lewis was going to trade he preferred to have Gutierrez along to translate. He supposed if needed he could stay behind and let the former soldier handle things, but he preferred to do the trading himself.

  Besides, if anything did turn up missing Ned would be the immediate first suspect, so the man had incentive to make sure Paul did a good job. “Thanks,” Lewis said. “I might just take you up on that.”

  “Sure, as long as you're willing to return the favor now and then.” The trader grinned. “I might need my bodyguard along if some of my deals end up being dangerous. I'm sure our hosts will do a good job with peacekeeping, but violence is always one of the risks of the business.” He wandered back to his truck and exchanged a few words with Paul, who nodded their way in agreement.

  Not long after they finished setting up camp Faraday came around again. “Two things,” the lieutenant said. “First off Rodriguez wants to gather all the civilians and military logistics personnel who are going to be trading in the marketplace. He's got some stuff to tell us, apparently.”

  Good. Lewis liked to know right off the bat what to expect.

  “Second off . . .” Faraday paused to nod to Carrie. “Colonel Grimes has invited you to accompany him to this evening's reception. He'd like you to be available in the late afternoon so you have time to prep for the assignment.”

  The young veteran nodded, although she looked slightly nervous. Lewis didn't blame her; sure, he'd love to go to that event himself, but he could admit that he'd be out of his element there. As self-conscious about attention as she was she had to be feeling that even more. “So I guess that means I've got the afternoon to shop, right?” she asked.

  “Sure.” Faraday nodded to all of them as he started for the next truck. “The secretary's starting in twenty minutes, that clear space in our camp just in front of the entrance to the marketplace.”

  Lewis and his companions scrambled to gather up some goods and get ready to head to the marketplace. On Ned's advice they didn't bring as much as they could carry, but only a few samples of their general wares as well as all their valuables. For Lewis that meant one of his archives hard drives and a few hundred of his bullets. For the town it meant Gutierrez carried a pack loaded with a variety of their most high end electronics.

  Which, truth be told, actually was a pretty substantial chunk of the town's trade goods; they'd really have to do better if they were going to be trading for food long term. They did leave all the guns and gun parts behind, though, guessing that weapons would be prohibited in the market and special arrangements for their sale would have to be made.

  By the time they reached the clear space dozens of people were there waiting, along with Rodriguez and a few assistants watched over by several Mexican guards. The secretary didn't end up going at exactly twenty minutes, since people were still streaming in at that time. Instead he waited with bored impatience until he judged the crowd big enough.

  “First things first, friends,” he began. “The official currency for our marketplace is the peso. You may of course do direc
t trades with any vendors or other traders who are willing, but for dealing directly with the Mexican government, buying or selling, we will use our currency. And since it is my government which will be supplying the bulk of what we have to offer, including food, it is in your best interest to speak to our appraisers about selling to us and then purchasing what you need with pesos.”

  Lewis supposed that was fair. If the peso had managed to survive the financial collapse that happened shortly after the Gulf burned, then using it for trade between four countries would only strengthen it. And if it had become completely worthless, which he guessed was more likely, then Mexico forcing their trading partners to use it would prop it up nicely.

  Of course it could be that even the Mexican vendors didn't have full confidence in their own currency yet, and would offer better deals for direct trades. He supposed that was something they'd have to look into while they were there.

  “Of course I don't need to tell you that you are our guests here,” Rodriguez continued. “You are most welcome, but at the same time we will not tolerate violence. No weapons are to enter the marketplace. Troublemakers will, depending on the severity of their crime, either be detained until they cool off or actively prosecuted to the full extent of our laws. We are also asking in the strongest terms that you avoid contact with members of the other factions, particularly the CCZ, unless you have amicable business with them.”

  Yeah, Lewis didn't see himself doing business with blockheads, no matter what they had to offer. Stolen goods or those produced by the hands of slaves didn't appeal to him.

  “And as previously mentioned, our government has procured the services of highly qualified appraisers, to inspect your wares and give an estimated value that will aid you in bargaining with other factions. They are also authorized to make offers on behalf of our government, again in pesos.” Rodriguez smiled wide as if sharing a secret. “Since this is our first summit we are motivated to be generous, so I think you will be pleased with the offers.”

  Again, Lewis had his doubts that they'd offer the best deal available. But if nothing else they provided a last resort if no other buyers could be found.

  “And finally, before you explore our marketplace!” the secretary called, clapping his hands. “While weapons are prohibited in the market, we allow and even encourage their sale, as well as ammunition and accessories! In fact we prohibit no trade goods in this market, regardless of their questionable legality in other nations. So while I realize luxury items are low priority, I'm pleased to announce that if you're interested we also offer a variety of alcohols and recreational drugs at reasonable prices.”

  “Hold the phone!” a stern voice called from one side. Lewis turned with the others to see Grimes swiftly approaching the secretary.

  Rodriguez gave a low bow. “Colonel. Please be aware that I'm only offering Mexico's rules and laws. If you have your own that you'd like to impose on your-”

  “We will not be purchasing restricted goods,” the colonel said coldly. “Legality or morality aside, we don't have the resources.”

  The secretary seemed surprised. “Not even for yourselves? To restock the wet bar in your officers' mess, perhaps?” Grimes shook his head firmly, and Rodriguez abruptly smiled conspiratorially. “Ah. Very well. But perhaps you'd be more interested in talking about painkillers, antiseptics, anesthetics, and stimulants for medical purposes?”

  “The same products with different labels?” the colonel growled. Then he hesitated, looking around. “We do have a great need for all of those things,” he admitted with a sigh. “And I suppose there'd be a riot if I didn't allow at least the purchase of alcohol and tobacco for those who feel they can spare the resources.” His tone hardened. “But just as you ask us to respect your terms, please respect ours: strongly discourage your people from selling prohibited goods to my convoy.”

  Rodriguez shrugged, not seeming too put out. “Very well. The Central Controlled Zone officials provide enough of a demand just for their own private stores, let alone what they're purchasing for troop morale.”

  “I'm sure they do,” Grimes said, not quite snidely. He gestured towards the crowd. “Apologies for the interruption. Please, continue.”

  “No need, I'd say that about covers it,” the secretary said brightly. He motioned. “You'll find the government suppliers, appraisers, and aid personnel on the side of the marketplace nearest the summit tents. Please come to us if you need help, as well as for all your trading needs. And again, thank you for coming.” He smiled broadly. “We hope this will be the start of a healthy relationship between our nations, with regular convoys coming to trade.”

  Well, that at least Lewis agreed with.

  With his orientation finished Rodriguez and his people went to join the guards at the entrance to the market. Lewis and his companions got in line with the rest of the crowd from their convoy to be processed through, enduring the eager jostling and line-cutting as everyone tried to be first inside.

  They ended up at about the middle of the line, and by the time their turn arrived the process was going very smoothly as everyone saw what the people ahead of them were expected to do and followed suit.

  So Lewis stopped as the guard assigned to him politely held out his hand to block the way. “Weapons check,” the man said mildly. “You have no guns, knives?”

  “None.” Lewis said. To suit his words he patted his pockets with his hand not carrying his sample goods, then pulled his jacket open and lifted his shirt while turning around slowly. Then he hefted the plastic crate tucked under his other arm. “This has ammunition for trade in it.”

  “Very well.” The soldier turned to Carrie, who also obligingly opened her jacket to reveal the fairly tight shirt and jeans she wore. Not much chance of hiding anything there, including a figure that drew more than a few second looks from nearby men, Gutierrez among them.

  Lewis had noticed the outfit but hadn't paid it any attention. Now that they were in a crowd, though, he wondered if the young woman's choice of clothes was a subconscious effort on her part to draw eyes to her body and keep them off her face. With most people wearing whatever they'd had before the Gulf burned, and just about everyone having lost weight since, outfits tended to be loose and baggy and belts were more than just a fashion accessory.

  When his turn came around the Gutierrez also lifted his shirt, although Lewis noticed he didn't turn around or pat his pockets. “No knives or guns,” the former soldier said firmly, then presumably repeated the phrase in Spanish.

  Crap. Lewis knew his friend liked to carry a retractable baton, and he could imagine him concealing it somewhere on his person, just in case. Not a bad precaution where they were going to be around CCZ thugs, but who knew how these guards would respond to finding it on him? At best they'd be kicked out, possibly even banned, which would make trade much more difficult. They might even end up arrested.

  The risk wasn't worth it.

  His heart jumped into his throat when the guard glanced back at the other soldiers, then shrugged and said, “Lo siento. We've been ordered to do random pat downs.” He pointed at Lewis, then at Carrie. “You and you.”

  Phew, dodged a bullet there.

  Although Carrie apparently didn't share his relief. “You're not touching me,” the young woman said sharply.

  “We'll have a woman search you, senorita. It's procedure, nothing personal.” The guard's eyes traveled up and down her body, then settled on her face. He smirked and tapped at his eye to indicate her eyepatch. “You might consider it lucky if it was personal.”

  Carrie's face went white, and Lewis noticed Gutierrez's expression darkening with outrage. He hastily cut in before his friend got them in trouble in a different way. “Let's get it over with, then.”

  In spite of his reservations the guards were professional and the pat downs were quick. Then they were ushered through into the marketplace.

  It was a stark contrast to the strictly separated camps for the four factions. Here hundreds
of spaces had been marked off for people to set up their wares for trade, with lanes in between wide enough for vehicles to pass through if necessary. As far as Lewis could see there was no permission needed to take a space: it was first come first serve. And in spite of the now full camp at least half of the spaces were unoccupied.

  But even though there were no restrictions on the spaces he did notice that the three factions that were already there had naturally clustered in the spaces closest to their own camps. But amusingly several entrepreneurial vendors had seen the obvious and had instead chosen to take the spaces closest to the US camp, which now meant they were front and center for all the potential buyers streaming in from the newly arrived convoy.

  “Should we claim a space and set up?” Carrie asked.

  Lewis hesitated. There were advantages to getting their wares out there quickly, selling during the rush. But there were disadvantages too, most significantly if they ended up selling all their stuff before they knew how much it was actually worth.

  “Maybe,” he hedged. “For now let's gather information, visit the appraisers, and see what other vendors have to offer. If nothing else we can plan to set up early tomorrow.”

  Neither of his companions had any complaints about delaying the work in favor of shopping. Lewis led the way through the more savvy vendors closest to their camp, browsing the available goods and occasionally stopping to talk with a vendor.

  In spite of the hospitable setting, the supposedly weapons-free space, and the profusion of Mexican soldiers patrolling or standing guard in the more crowded areas, Lewis still found himself glancing at the vendors set up nearest the CCZ corner of camp. From the looks of it the blockheads had brought only soldiers in their convoy, and he saw a whole lot of the familiar uniforms he'd been shooting at last summer. And that'd been shooting at him.

  What was more, he was getting a lot of hostile looks back from the uniformed men over there. Not just at him but at everyone in the convoy. Assurances of safety aside, he wasn't about to let his guard down while he was in visual range of those people; a sudden outbreak of violence would rip this camp to shreds, see hundreds or even thousands dead, and deny them all the food they desperately needed, not just now but in the future as well.