Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1)

by Nathan Jones

  “You know what I miss?” Matt asked as he crunched on a handful of peanuts. Trev made no response, waiting for him to continue. “Clean underwear.”

  He glanced askance at his friend. “Missing that, are you?”

  That earned him an annoyed look. “You know what I mean. Warm out of the dryer, fabric softener clean underwear.”

  Trev chuckled. “You know, when I was loading my backpack on the trip down I had six clean pairs, fresh from the store and rolled up tiny and portable. I ended up leaving half behind. Funny how you can look back on your past self as a total idiot. Didn't take up more than a couple square inches and weighed next to nothing.”

  Matt laughed too. “Hindsight.” He took a swig of water and rotated his shoulders, groaning. “Man, you've done 2 patrols in one day? I thought the 8 hour shifts I did helping out were brutal enough.”

  “We've made good time today,” Trev said. “Around 30 miles, I'd say. With any luck tomorrow we can start early and well rested and get in a full day, and that's when we'll really put some distance behind us.”

  His friend nodded. “Another good 12 hours like this, even where Highway 6 gets difficult, and we'll reach Spanish Fork and be at the start of the heavily populated areas. That'll be sometime in the mid to late afternoon tomorrow.” His friend grinned at him. “I can't believe we're going to make it that far in less than two full days traveling. From your horror stories about the trip down I was expecting the going to be a lot slower.”

  Trev grimaced. “Well my pack weighs half as much this time and I'm in probably the best shape of my life, so that helps. But just be ready to have to slow down when we reach Utah Valley.”

  “Why? It's level terrain and good roads the entire rest of the way.”

  “Yeah, through dense population clusters.” Trev took a last bite of trail mix from his pack, then washed it down with a few good swallows of water. They'd have to find a place to refill their water bottles tomorrow if they wanted to keep up this pace. If worse came to worst they could always use his filter to draw from Utah Lake or one of the water sources flowing to it.

  After that he was about ready to turn in, and Matt didn't protest as he headed for his tent to inflate his sleeping pad. On his initial hike down to Aspen Hill he'd found himself grateful he'd purchased it, since it made the ground infinitely more comfortable, and curled up atop it in his sleeping bag he quickly fell asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Into the Fire

  They woke up early the next morning and immediately packed up their camp and set out. The trip was uneventful as they followed Highway 6 northwest keeping to the hills wherever they could as the road began hugging more and more cliffs with nowhere to go but on the pavement itself. For most of that walk to Spanish Fork nothing exciting happened, just walking for hours on end along uphill and downhill terrain doing their best to give the refugees they passed a wide berth. Since they set out early they encountered refugees camped along the side of the road, although even at that hour many were on the move and some looked as if they'd already been walking for hours.

  The most notable thing about that day was the number of refugees they passed. Trev had expected dozens or maybe hundreds, but judging by the sheer volume of humanity pouring past them along both sides of the road the number had to be closer to thousands. The sight was uncomfortable, not just because of what it meant for the people around them but also because of what it meant for every single town and city in their path.

  “Lewis sometimes jokingly called the people fleeing the cities during a collapse and overwhelming the rural areas with their numbers the Golden Horde,” Trev said a couple hours into the hike when Matt expressed his frustration about trying to find his sister among so many faces. “I'd almost say they're more like a locust swarm.”

  His friend gave him a disgusted look. “I don't think it's fair to say that all refugees are ravenous parasites.”

  Trev frowned. “Well it's not the most pleasant thought, but if they can't fend for themselves they have to get their food from somewhere.”

  “So? They're still people. People it's wrong to just automatically assume are bad.”

  “Whoa, whoa, when did I ever say that? They're not all bad people, probably not even most of them. But they're desperate people, and desperate people will do whatever they have to do to survive. The best ones might go back to being good people once the crisis has passed, but if the crisis never passes there's no predicting what they'll do.”

  “So you don't think it's possible to be desperate and still keep your moral values?” Matt demanded.

  Trev shrugged. “Of course it is. The problem is that the people who do keep their moral values are more likely to die faster. As time goes on the probability of meeting an honest, trustworthy refugee is going to decrease. Sure, if we have help for them they'll be all smiles and gratitude, but then they'll usually come back asking for more and the gratitude will slowly disappear while the expectation of generosity remains. Then the moment you have to say no in order to have enough to save your own life they'll almost certainly turn angry and entitled.”

  “Then what, we mistreat refugees just in case they're bad apples?”

  His friend's judgmental tone was starting to annoy him. “Quit putting words in my mouth, man. I'm just saying that no matter how kindly we treat others, and even while we do as much as we can to help them, we should also be cautious and prepared for anyone we meet to be dangerous. If they're not dangerous the worst that happens is we look a bit cautious and untrusting, but if they are dangerous we're ready for whatever they might try.”

  Matt looked away. “Maybe you're right.”

  “You know I'm right. Do you know how many people have already died? It could be hundreds of thousands or even millions by now. And most of that is from violence because we're not even to the three week point where people who had no food when the disaster struck should be starving to death, so you know that number's going to go up fast.”

  Trev couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable his words were making his friend, but he couldn't ignore reality. “These refugees are in serious trouble and they know it. Do you think if they had the chance to take everything we had so we're the ones in serious trouble and they might live a bit longer most of them would be worried about the ethics of it?” He pointed at the gun on Matt's hip. “That's why they don't, and we'd better hope we don't run into anyone who's willing to shoot first and talk later and manages to catch us by surprise. All we can do is be ready for them.”

  His friend abruptly quickened his pace. “I'm not liking the thought of how many of these people might end up in Aspen Hill,” he muttered. That was probably the closed he'd come to admitting Trev had a point.

  “Yeah, me neither.” Trev sighed and hurried to catch up. “Look, the locust swarm remark was a rotten thing to say and I do feel bad for these people. It's just that we've got enough problems with the refugees who were already sitting outside the town when we left.” Matt kept going at the same fast pace and Trev raised his voice slightly. “Hey slow down, we've still got a long way to go.”

  On that 12 hour stretch to Spanish Fork the only noteworthy event was when they passed Trev's car halfway through the hike. He wasn't surprised to find that the vehicle was completely trashed, windows broken and doors and roof heavily dented as if someone had taken a crowbar or tire iron to them. The trunk was open, the carpet covering the spare tire flung aside and the spare tire itself nowhere to be seen.

  “Looks like someone was really serious about looking for food,” Matt said as they came alongside the vehicle.

  Trev looked away, feeling a bit sick. He'd bought the car used and it had caused almost as much trouble as it was worth back when he'd been driving it, but it had represented freedom of movement in a way he really had to appreciate under the circumstances. “The vindictive side of me almost thinks the piece of junk got what it deserved for not getting me all the way home. I've done enough walking in the last two weeks to last m
e a lifetime.”

  Matt glanced over, probably wondering if that was a dig at him for asking Trev to come along on yet another long journey. Trev hadn't meant it that way. “Well it's not like it would've been useful any time soon,” his friend replied. Trev nodded and didn't look back as they continued down the road.

  In the late afternoon, just after Trev shared the last of his water with Matt, they finally reached the last hill overlooking Spanish Fork, which Highway 6 passed through to join up with I-15. Trev looked that way, thinking back to the first day of the attack when he'd driven this route. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  “Civilization at last,” Matt said wryly, shoving a handful of peanuts into his mouth as he caught up. Trev wasn't sure the salty snack was the best idea until they found a source of water.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “Before we head in there I should warn you that this isn't society anymore, it's a war zone. We've got two big rules from now until we get to your sister's house: One, we don't be seen. Two, we don't be heard. By anyone. We treat this like we could get attacked at any moment, because that's reality. We stick to cover, backyards and alleys if we have to, and we go as close as possible to a straight line towards our objective.”

  “Our “objective?” Matt asked, amused. “Okay Mr. Military Man.”

  Trev ignored the jibe. “Or maybe we could avoid the Interstate and the cities entirely and cut straight north to follow the foothills. They'll lead us all the way up to Midvale and we can completely avoid trouble.”

  Matt was already shaking his head. “We have to stick with I-15 so I can keep watching for April's family. That's why we're here, remember?”

  Trev frowned. “It's going to get a lot harder to do that now that we're in populated areas. I was antsy enough walking on Highway 6 with so many people around, but there'll be ten times that number on the Interstate. I don't know if it's even possible to avoid trouble, and I really doubt we'll find a way to stay at binocular distance from the road to avoid being seen.”

  “So we get seen,” his friend said with a shrug. “We just have to keep our guard up.”

  “Now's the exactly the time when we want to avoid notice,” Trev answered patiently. “All these refugees fleeing the cities, what do you think they're running from? Trying to find food, sure, but for most of them they're running from the violence in the cities. Which we're about to walk into. Besides, we can move faster than your sister's family. What if we keep going to Midvale following the foothills and search there, and if we can't find her then we take the Interstate down looking for her?”

  “Or what if we take the Interstate up and not waste time, and if we find her we can head to the foothills then?” Matt smiled. “Come on, man, you know I've got a point.”

  Trev supposed his friend did. He sighed. “Fine. Lead on.”

  * * * * *

  It turned out Trev didn't mean that literally, since his friend continued to take the lead as they continued along Highway 6 through Spanish Fork making for I-15. Matt didn't mind following behind, since he had to put most of his concentration into searching the faces of the stream of refugees heading south and was happy to let Trev navigate for them.

  His friend chose to follow the Interstate on the right side, in the strip of undeveloped land between where the fence and the first houses began. Matt would've preferred to walk on the outside of the fence where the way was unobstructed but they'd be in sight of everyone on the I-15, but his friend chose to cut through people's yards, hopping smaller fences between houses and leaving Matt to look for places where he could see over the usually tall, noise-canceling fences blocking sight and sound of the Interstate.

  This route seemed dangerous to Matt, especially in these chaotic times, but Trev argued that most of the owners of the yards they were cutting through had probably already been evacuated and were now part of the sea of humanity on the Interstate.

  His friend was proven wrong just a mile after beginning their new strategy, when he hopped a fence and nearly landed on a snarling dog.

  Trev yelped and leapt straight upwards to escape snapping jaws, twisting in midair to desperately clutch the top of the fence and swing his legs up. Matt grabbed him and helped pull him over, while in the other yard the dog continued to snarl and bark. When they heard shouts and saw the door to that house slam open as the dog's owner came to investigate the noise they bolted back the way they'd come, vaulting three fences before cutting away from the Interstate and onto the street running parallel to it on the other side of the houses.

  “You okay?” Matt asked between pants. His friend nodded. “This isn't going to work. We should just follow the outside of the fence like I wanted. Even if people see us what's the harm?”

  “We get robbed and murdered?” Trev shot back, also panting. “Look, maybe it's time to accept reality and just make for your sister's house along the foothills. For all we know she's still there, or they've gone to the FETF camp.”

  “Nobody else on I-15 is getting robbed,” Matt snapped, losing his patience. “Would it really be so bad to follow it?”

  “Nobody else has anything to steal,” his friend shot back. “And we're going a different direction than everyone else. We'd be obvious targets the entire way, and even if we could defend ourselves it would probably come to shooting people. Do you want that?”

  Matt hesitated. “How about a compromise? We follow this street and check out the highway along any open spots. Even if I miss a few groups at least I'll be able to do what I can.”

  Trev looked like he wanted to point out some more flaws in Matt's reasoning, but surprisingly he just nodded. “Fine. Let's go.” He began following the sidewalk, doing his best to stick to the cover of cars or fences as he eyed the houses around them, the street ahead, and even the street behind warily with one hand tucked up under his jacket holding the concealed .45 there. Matt followed his friend's example and also stuck to cover, warily watched in all directions, and kept a hand on the 9mm at his hip.

  They'd only gone a few blocks when Trev abruptly stopped, out in the middle of the road with no hint of a reason why. He was staring ahead, and Matt hurried the rest of the way along the fence they'd been following to peek over his friend's shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Roadblock.”

  The answer was unnecessary since Matt could see it now. Two police vehicles parked across the street at a large intersection ahead, with a few of those plastic barricades out to make it clear they hadn't just parked there for fun. Three policemen were leaning against the front bumpers, looking bored. From the looks of it the cross street connected to the Interstate and they were there to direct people in that direction.

  “Uniforms,” Trev mused. “Might've stolen them.”

  Matt shot his friend an incredulous look. “What, you think they're robbers disguised as cops?”

  “No, they're probably law enforcement. Even if someone was stupid enough to attack the police they wouldn't try to impersonate them on an open road. If they were caught the way things are now there's every chance they'd be shot on sight. Besides, this street leads to an onramp so you'd expect to see a roadblock.” His friend turned and started around Matt, heading back the way they'd come.

  Matt stared after him. “Hey, where are you going?”

  Trev glanced back. “To find a way around. No need to take this street.”

  How about that? Matt knew his friend was almost as paranoid as Lewis but this was absurd. “What's the big deal? They're policemen, here to protect and serve. They might even have news about Midvale or could give us some other help.”

  “Or they could have some problem with us or what we're doing,” Trev said with a shrug. “No reason to go looking for trouble.”

  “What trouble? It's just some cops watching a street. If anything, acting like we're avoiding them would be even more suspicious. Then talk about finding trouble.”

  His friend paused, looking longingly down the fence to a back yard. “I don't like it, Matt. These are tro
ubled times, only an idiot walks up to potential problems.”

  Matt was losing his patience. “These are the people who stop problems!”

  Another shrug. “I'm not so sure of that.”

  That was as much as he was ready to hear. “Well you can go around,” he snapped. “I'll see you on the other side. Or maybe they'll be able to give me a ride farther north and you can keep walking on your own.”

  Trev made a frustrated noise and seemed to give up, moving to rejoin him. “This is a bad idea,” he warned.

  They started forward down the street, and Matt couldn't help but notice his friend's obvious furtiveness. “Quit acting like a criminal. We haven't done anything wrong.”

  “And you think that's going to matter?” But by then they'd drawn the attention of the officers, who quickly straightened and moved into cover behind the cars. All were holding their service issue weapons ready to draw. At seeing their reaction Trev fell silent, squared his shoulders, and moved out into the middle of the street with his hands held out at his sides to walk directly towards them.

  Matt followed, watching the three men gripping their weapons and feeling a sudden unease. He'd had more than a few encounters with policemen, and there were a few he'd seen who seemed to like fondling their pistols whenever they talked with people. He'd always thought those types were a bit gung-ho, the sort who liked to swagger and feel big, but there was no harm in it. But these guys had spent a week dealing with riots, and to his eyes the gesture didn't feel like swagger.

  Whatever he'd said to Trev, he was beginning to wonder if his friend hadn't had a point. Protect and serve or not those were real guns, and he didn't like the fact that the policemen looked ready to draw them as he and Trev approached.

  But that was just Trev's paranoia infecting him. He'd lived in Orem for the last few years and these men were practically neighbors.