Pete tried to smile, tried to show with every part of himself that things were really okay even though he'd just royally freaked out. “Nothing, just a conditioned response.” He glanced over at Lily. “You said “I'm coming” but my subconscious heard “incoming.”
Understanding dawned in Kathleen's eyes. “This is because of the artillery the CCZ is hitting you guys with, isn't it?” Pete nodded, eyes flicking to the ground for a moment in shame. He barely looked up in time to see her suppress a look of pity and horror. “They said it wasn't that bad! That the blockheads are just firing randomly across the river hoping to get lucky, and almost nobody's been hit.”
“That's . . . not completely wrong,” Pete admitted. He didn't mention that the enemy had spotters and carefully chose their targets before “firing randomly”. “We've only had a few dozen casualties from the shelling, and most of that was in the first attack when we weren't ready for it.” He sucked in a breath, glancing over at Lily. “It's just that two of those were from my squad.”
Kathleen was still holding his hand, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Pete shuddered, so violently he almost lost his balance. “No.” The last thing he wanted was to think of the last week. He'd hoped visiting camp would be a distraction from that, not a chance to relive what he'd just escaped.
The young woman squeezed his hand again, nervously fidgeting with her glasses with her free hand. “All right. Let's head to the theater, then.” She gave Lily a look, half stern half teasing. “If you're finally ready, young lady.”
Lily gave them both a sickly smile, obviously still shaken by what had just happened. “I'm ready,” she said, trying hard to sound chipper. “I've been wanting to watch a movie for like forever.”
* * * * *
The 53rd and 104th commenced their attack during the middle of the movie. Pete knew because some jerk thought it was important enough news to interrupt the show over, poking his head into the tent to shout the details.
The response from the small crowd of moviegoers was mixed: some called for more information, some actually left in search of that info, while the majority simply shouted for him to shut up and close the flaps so they could see the screen.
Pete wanted to be part of groups 1 and 2, but he figured he'd get the details soon enough anyway. So he put his arm around Kathleen and leaned back to enjoy the rest of the movie. Which was, either in an ironic twist or an attempt by the theater's owner to appeal to his customers, a war movie.
Personally Pete would've preferred just about anything else; he saw enough real fighting that seeing it on the screen didn't appeal. Especially since it all looked so fake and sterile. Even the few attempts to show blood and wounds seemed obviously unrealistic. For Lily's sake Pete was glad of that, but by the time the credits rolled and they left the tent he was feeling more than a little irritated.
He should've excused himself for a minute to see how his fellow Chainbreakers were doing.
Luckily constant news was making its way around the camp. As they found a nice place that served breakfast burritos (heavy on the potatoes and scrambled eggs and light on the cheese and diced meat, but with enough sauce to compensate), and while they settled down to eat, Pete overheard enough tidbits from the people around him to pick up on just about the entire battle as it progressed, almost in real time.
Kathleen noticed his distraction and put a reassuring, if somewhat messy, hand on his wrist. “I'm sure your friends in the 103rd are doing fine,” she said.
Pete nodded distractedly, although from the sounds of things she was probably right: even with the CCZ's superior numbers it looked as if the battle was a foregone conclusion right from the start.
It was a simple matter of positioning. The CCZ pressed the 51st and 103rd from the west and south, which certainly wasn't a fun position to be in if you were on the receiving end of that pressure. But it meant that the enemy troops had spread themselves thin over miles of area, with their backs completely exposed trusting on the strength of their borders.
Which, as the US and Canada had spent the last three or so weeks proving, weren't all that strong.
Once the 53rd and 104th hit them from the west and south, combined with the attack the two companies on the spit launched, it meant the enemy was effectively surrounded, with no hope of defending against all possible angles of attack.
No doubt they'd had scouts roving their flanks to warn of just such an attack, but the problem was that if the attack came quickly enough then a warning was all they'd get, which was nearly useless. It just meant they'd see their deaths coming for them.
A cynical person might even wonder if Simard had hoped the enemy would forget the rest of the world existed and move into that vulnerable position, and had purposely allowed his company and the 103rd to be sitting ducks, letting themselves be shelled while the enemy got used to the idea that no help was coming for them. Until finally the blockheads were fully committed to their siege and open to attack from behind.
Pete didn't like the idea that his role in all this had been as a target dummy, but it was hard to argue with the results.
Going by what he overheard, the 104th and 53rd had crossed the Mississippi fifty miles north and south of this area, then swept in on their targets in a rush, while at the same time Simard and Tremblay had led their two companies across the Missouri river along several points and also launched a solid attack against the western front, keeping the enemy engaged from the front and behind. In that position the blockheads were the ones who became sitting ducks, and though they put up a fight it had been a massacre.
By the time Pete, Kathleen, and Lily had eaten their meal and finished walking it off on a tour through the camp afterwards, the 104th and 53rd had captured two artillery pieces and over a hundred rounds of munitions for them, along with all the other gear from the enemy soldiers they'd slain. Enemy casualties numbered nearly six hundred, and more had scattered and were being mopped up.
On their side the four attacking companies had less than a hundred casualties, and not only held the spit between the rivers but also most of St. Louis and the surrounding area to the west.
Under the circumstances Pete wondered if his squad would even need to wait until dark to ferry the remaining supplies over; from the sound of things there was no one left to challenge their crossing. But when he radioed Reed the corporal told him they were still sticking to the timetable.
He could tell Kathleen and Lily were just as relieved as he was when he gave them the news, since it meant they still had a bit more time before he had to leave.
As the sun sank they played a few games of cards, fast paced ones Pete remembered playing as a kid. Which he supposed wasn't all that many years ago. After a while Lily started trying to convince a few of the other women in the tent to join them for a few rounds of a game that required more people, although they seemed reluctant and even a bit terse.
Pete had a feeling the girls' roommates would've preferred if he left so they could relax. That suited him just fine, and he could tell Kathleen was just as itchy to get out of there so they could have some time to themselves.
So he stood up and stretched a little. “I think it's time for you to head to bed,” he told Lily.
She gave him a flat look. “You're kidding.”
Kathleen stood as well. “Didn't you have that book to read?” she offered.
The girl looked between them, nose crinkling in disgust. “You're going to ditch me to go make out, aren't you?”
A few of her roommates snickered, and Pete felt his face flushing. Although Kathleen looked more annoyed than embarrassed. “I,” she said firmly, “haven't seen my boyfriend in weeks. So yes, we would like to spend some time together. If that's quite all right with you.”
The little girl crossed her arms and settled back on her bed, sulking. Pete gave her an apologetic look as he and Kathleen beat a hasty retreat.
Once they'd escaped into the cooling even
ing the young woman sighed. “It's kind of nice to have a little sister,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose, “but there are definitely downsides.”
Pete couldn't help but grin. “Well now that our date's officially started, what would you like to do?”
Kathleen grinned back, eyes dancing behind her glasses. “Wait here.” She darted back into the tent and came out a few seconds later with a blanket bundled in her arms. Pete looked at it with raised eyebrows, and his girlfriend's face finally flushed with some embarrassment. “I know a secluded spot.”
That was more like it. “How secluded?” Pete asked. It might put a damper on their fun if they picked a place where someone could stumble on them in an embarrassing position and they both knew it.
The young woman laughed. “You think we're the only ones who've tried to find a private place to enjoy ourselves in this camp?” She shoved the blanket into his arms and started off at a quick walk, calling over her shoulder. “Really secluded.”
* * * * *
About two hours later a disheveled but very relaxed Pete made his way back to Epsilon squad's truck, enduring his squad mates' ribbing with bulletproof magnanimity as they filled up the truck with the first load of supplies and started for the river.
Their conversation revolved around the earlier attack and its continuing aftermath. None of his squad mates had heard anything official and were reduced to sharing the tidbits they'd picked up, although they were hoping to get a rundown from Branson when they crossed the river. It lent strength to their arms as they pulled the ferry along the rope to the far bank, where the rest of the squad was waiting for them.
Their wish for news came true. Sort of.
“Hope you enjoyed your vacation, gentlemen!” Branson called as they lowered the ramp and brought the truck down onto the bank.
“Absolutely, Sarge,” Saunders replied. “Slept like a baby knowing I wouldn't be going back to a place the enemy was systematically bombing.”
“Good!” The sergeant rubbed his hands together almost gleefully. “Because we weren't part of the fighting, which means we've been detailed to cleanup. Once we're done moving these supplies we'll head over to the front we just took and get to work on the disposal of blockhead corpses.”
The entire squad erupted in protest at that. “Are you kidding, Sarge?” Reed demanded. “Did Epsilon piss off someone important? Is one of us screwing Tremblay's niece or something?”
Branson just laughed at them. “Do you knuckleheads do anything but piss and moan?”
Pete glared along with his squad mates. Corpse disposal was one of the more unpleasant tasks out there. On top of everything else they'd been through recently it felt like getting kicked between the legs.
The sergeant didn't seem to care how his news was received. “Don't you idiots get it?” He waved vaguely westward. “We won. Captain Simard has ordered fortifications dug a bit west of the old front, where the rivers drastically diverge and the ground between them becomes too wide to effectively defend. Those new fortifications are going to be more or less a permanent front, and now that the blockheads are broken here they'll probably just let us have this and focus on something else.”
Branson looked around, grinning. “We went through hell, I won't lie, but now we're going to be spending the next few months as glorified sentries holding this area. No more raids, no more pitched battles, definitely no more artillery bombardments. We've got a chance to rest and bring in new recruits to train so we can build our companies back to full strength. Easy shifts, frequent leave, access to the luxuries of the permanent encampment we'll be building on this side of the river, the works.”
“What if the CCZ doesn't leave us alone, even after this?” Pete asked.
The sergeant snorted. “Then they're idiots. We're dug in at an easily defensible location, with emplacements on both banks of both rivers, and we just captured their artillery and over a hundred rounds of explosive munitions and slaughtered several hundred of their soldiers with far fewer casualties.”
Branson waved at the land around them. “This territory is ours now, and the enemy is having too much trouble dealing with the constant raids all along their borders to do anything about it.”
Pete glanced at his squad mates. After the hell they'd been through it seemed impossible that it was all over, and they were about to spend a while on an assignment that hopefully wouldn't involve getting shot at. It seemed almost too good to be true.
Not that he was complaining, in spite of the unpleasant task of disposing enemy corpses he still faced.
Chapter Seven
Looking to the Future
The next two and a half months passed in a blur for Trev.
Even though Matt wisely refused to adopt Robert's open door policy when it came to accepting refugees, new Aspen Hill still grew with surprising speed. The lure of a prosperous, stable town drew a lot of people, and many of those people were worth considering.
Just like when they'd invited in the skilled professionals last fall, they resumed bringing in people the town needed or who had skills that would bring future prosperity for the town. Talented craftsmen, medical professionals, even technical geniuses who might be useful in rebuilding the technological infrastructure they'd lost when the Gulf burned.
And more than that, some people actually had resources to bring to Aspen Hill, prosperous people that the town eagerly invited in.
Among those was none other than Ned Orban, who not only began constructing a house for himself near the center of Aspen Hill but also began construction of a warehouse for his shipping business in town. A bit more large scale than a store, although he did partner with Scott Tillman to reopen Tillman's Hardware and Sporting Goods, as well as a few other townspeople for things like food and personal needs items.
In fact, the town began doing all its shipping through Orban, since it was only slightly more expensive that way and his operation was a lot bigger. It could get them more of the things they needed, and even luxuries for those who could afford them.
Trev knew Lewis was relieved to not have to organize the truck trips down with the convoy. And in fact, with Orban's business growing like it was the man would soon be in a position to run his own convoys, with hired protection from Mexico.
With the trader operating in town that meant they got to see more of Gutierrez and Carrie as well. Although contrary to his previous promise the former soldier sold his house and the land it was on to Orban so the man could build his larger house, and when Gutierrez was in town he stayed in Aspen Hill's first hotel, owned and operated by Ben and a few others.
Trev couldn't help but notice that when Carrie came along she shared a room with the former soldier. Which struck him as a bit odd, since the two would often get in massive shouting matches over their work and one or the other would storm away. But somehow they always ended up back together.
Good for them, he supposed. As long as the arrangement worked for the couple what could he really say?
All in all, in those almost three months new Aspen Hill's population increased by half again, and far from straining the town's resources they were in a better position than they'd ever been for the upcoming nuclear winter. Things were looking bright, not only for the immediate future but long term as well.
Although some of the biggest changes to the town, at least as far as Trev was concerned, happened in his own life.
He finally caved to the inevitable. Matt had been able to muddle through his new responsibilities as Mayor of a town that was part of a larger government, and was now shining in the role. But from the start Trev had been painfully aware that he just flat out wasn't qualified to run a police department. He didn't have the training or years of experience for the job, and while he'd worked hard to learn what he needed he kept running into the wall of his own lack of qualifications.
Nobody really blamed him when he suggested to the town leaders that it would be better for everyone if they started looking to replace him with a train
ed and experienced officer, ideally one who'd had a high rank in his department before the Gulf burned. There had to be plenty of those out there, any one of whom would be happy to have a job that catered to his experience and offered a chance to live in a growing, prosperous town.
Trev wasn't wrong there: after less than a week of searching they had several nibbles, and one or two solid bites. After some debating the City Council settled on a man named Geoff Renbury, who'd worked in the crime lab at the Denver Police Department and had decades of experience in police work.
When the blockheads attacked the Rocky Mountains the man had ended up, like so many others, informally part of the military as a volunteer. There was always a bit of a gray area in those cases, and from what Trev had heard even enlisted soldiers and commissioned officers often served longer than was called for by whatever arrangement they'd had before the Gulf burned. It was even worse for soldiers recruited afterwards, who rarely had any formal agreement at all and had no way of knowing how long they'd serve for, how much or even whether they'd receive pay, or what sort of promotion track they could expect.
Either way Geoff had finally gotten out, and as he'd muddled along trying to survive like everyone else he'd kept his eye open for any job that could use his forensics and law enforcement background. When Aspen Hill extended an offer to him he was quick to accept it, on a higher pay scale than Trev had been earning.
Which was only fair, since he had the experience to justify the salary.
Even though Trev knew it was the right decision for the town he still felt a bit like he was shirking his duty by quitting. But he did his best to ease his replacement's transition into the job, giving Geoff a tour of Aspen Hill, introducing him to everyone in his new department, and explaining as best he could how they'd stumbled along trying to do their jobs up to this point.
For his part Geoff handled taking over pretty gracefully. He was amused by some of the solutions and workarounds they'd come up with, bemused by others, but he was wasn't insulting and never showed any sign of contempt. He didn't give them praise they didn't deserve or excuse their failings, and he was quick to point out the proper way of doing things, but he seemed to get that they'd done the best they could.
Nuclear Winter | Book 3 | Chain Breakers Page 13