by Nathan Jones
The only relief was that they didn't see any bodies, either because someone was taking them away for respectful disposal or, less likely, not as many people had died in the violence as Trev feared. Either way it was a relief to get through downtown.
In the early afternoon they reached the junction where I-80 split from I-15 going west, and there they found a FETF station with several water trucks offering a place to refill their bottles and emergency medical aid for those who needed it. That was also where FETF directed them down I-80 towards the refugee camp with a promise of a meal when they arrived. It turned out Antelope Island was indeed a peninsula at the moment, dry and clear with only a few places of inch-deep water.
While Trev and Matt had a long drink and refilled the few bottles they'd emptied on the morning's hike, Trev noticed that most of the traffic heading north with them was turning east towards Antelope Island, leaving a much thinner stream of humanity to continue on up I-15. Another thing he noticed was that there was almost no one coming east along I-80: the traffic was all one-way. Which made sense considering that west of here was nothing but salt flats and desert most of the way to California. He was pretty sure none of the people leaving I-15 were planning on going anywhere but Antelope Island.
There was nowhere else to go in that direction.
They followed I-80 past Salt Lake City International Airport, which surprisingly enough had a few flights taking off and landing. Transports bringing desperately needed supplies to FETF for the camp, Trev was certain. Not too far beyond the airport another FETF station turned them all due north on the final stretch to Antelope Island. As he had guessed not a single person kept going west past that point, and they followed along in the sea of humanity like bits of driftwood.
It was nearing late afternoon as he and Matt made their way up a slight rise that they noticed people stopping at the top of it, clumping together and murmuring to themselves in relief, surprise, and in a lot of cases dismay. They discovered why once they finished making the climb and saw the view below.
Antelope Island was big, covering a larger area than all of Salt Lake City. Because of that size it might've been tempting to assume that the camp huddled up against a fence topped with barbed wire stretching all the way across the end of the peninsula to close it off wasn't all that large. Only it was. Large enough to hold the population of Aspen Hill a hundred times over, maybe more.
“What are we going to do?” Matt mumbled, staring at the sprawling carpet of tents in despair. “There's got to be tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of people in there! There's no way we'll find April and Terry and their boys in all that!”
Trev shook his head in mild disagreement. In spite of its size the camp was much, much more organized than any other refugee camp he'd seen. For one thing there was the fact that it had actual tents, made of canvas and arranged in orderly rows, with latrines strategically located to efficiently service the maximum number of people. Even if the camp had a hundred thousand people in it that sort of planning was actually a very good sign.
He looked at the well-guarded entrance, near the southwestern end of the fence closest to where they were. It looked like an amusement park entrance on steroids, with several open gates, FETF coordinators lining tables beneath shaded tents, and hundreds of FETF soldiers making their way among the newcomers directing them this way and that almost like shepherds. “We might actually be in luck. Come on.” He started forward.
Matt balked. “Oh, now you want to go talk to the men with guns?”
“Actually yes, I do. If we talk to these FETF coordinators and let them know who we are and what we want, after we enter the camp there's a better chance they'll let us leave again. Also we can ask them where to find your sister's family.”
Matt gave the massive sprawling encampment a doubtful look. “What, you think the guards at the gate are going to know about a family of four out of the thousands and thousands of people in there?”
Trev smiled. “Say what you will about FETF, they're bureaucrats at heart. Look at those pavilions, at what you have to go through to get into camp. They'll have a list of names of everyone in there, I guarantee it.” He shifted impatiently. “Which is another reason we have to go in through the front gate. If we try sneak in we won't be on the list and we might not be able to just walk out. They might even detain us.”
“Your paranoia is getting a bit old,” his friend complained. “This isn't a prison camp, it's a disaster relief camp.”
“It's a refugee camp created because these people were caught up in massive riots in the cities they lived in,” Trev answered sharply. “Even if those cops down in Spanish Fork were right about the rioters being sent to Point of the Mountain and these being innocent refugees looking for help that doesn't change much. The people who run the camp aren't going to want these people leaving and wandering around endangering themselves or causing more trouble. Even if we do come in the proper way they may try to detain us within the nice little barbed wire fence here “for our own good.”
“For the love of all that's good and holy!” Matt snapped, losing his temper. “This isn't Nazi Germany, Trev. This isn't Communist China. This is America, and in America citizens aren't unlawfully detained by an oppressive government!”
Trev lost his temper as well. It had been a long few days, full of frustrating and terrifying events, and he was tired and hungry. “Tell that to the policemen three days ago who threatened to haul us to Point of the Mountain just because we protested having our property stolen at gunpoint.”
As the tension between them grew Trev suddenly became aware that the people surrounding them were gawking, with a mixture of amusement, confusion, and fear. Matt noticed it as well because he suddenly threw up his hands. “Enough! Just enough, okay? We've almost found April, we're almost to where we can go home. It's almost over. Just, just shut up and let's get on with it, all right?”
Trev took a breath and glanced back at the FETF workers at the camp's entrance. “You do the talking, all right?”
“Yes, that'd be great. I'd love it if you'd just keep your mouth shut.” Matt shoved past him, and after a moment trying to calm himself Trev caught up and walked at his side.
In spite of the large numbers of people entering the camp Trev couldn't help but notice that nobody was leaving. That didn't make him feel any better, but he tried to convince himself that it was just because the refugees had nowhere to go and not because they couldn't leave. That tide of humanity was being fairly competently managed by the FETF coordinators, who were able to process people without too much of a bottleneck. It took less than an hour for Matt and Trev to work their way through the line to one of the pavilions, meaning with any luck they'd have all evening to start their search.
There a pair of soldiers frisked them and searched their backpacks. There was a bit of trouble about the cans of bear spray, at least until Matt insisted they were for self defense only. Trev half expected the men to confiscate them anyway, but to his surprise they were given back.
An even more pleasant surprise came when they registered with a FETF coordinator and Matt mentioned he was searching for his family as he handed over their driver's licenses. The woman actually took out a laptop, which must've been wirelessly connected to some FETF server, and quickly did a search.
“Terry and April Lynn,” she repeated, having Matt confirm the spelling as she typed in the names. Her expression cleared. “Okay yeah. They came in four days ago with the third group from Midvale. They're in Section F, fifth tent on the right.”
Matt gave Trev a jubilant look, and Trev threw an arm around his friend's shoulders in celebration as Matt turned back to the woman. “That's amazing! Thank you so much!”
The coordinator quickly gave them directions to his family's tent near the northeastern section of the fence and explained how the camp had been split into sections. Once that was done she gave them back their licenses, along with stamped IDs to wear around their necks, and assigned them t
o bunks in Section AE near the back of the camp while explaining how to get there.
Finished with jumping through bureaucratic hoops, they joined the stream of people heading into the camp. Most of the refugees made their way along the wide lane going back to their assigned bunks, but Matt immediately turned right to follow the lane a stone's throw from the fence towards Section F. The lane ran by tents to the left and a large clear area cordoned off with tape to the right near the fence itself, with frequent signs warning that anyone who neared the fence would be subject to crowd control measures.
Those signs and the view of the soldiers on the other side of the fence giving them suspicious glares made Trev feel uncomfortable, so in spite of Matt's protests he made his way one lane over to walk among the tents.
It turned out that might not've been the best decision, since they hadn't gone far before nearing a trio of men sitting on camping chairs beside one of the tents, their feet stretched out into the lane. The first word that popped into Trev's head when he looked at them was “punks”. They were dressed in cutoff denim vests over black t-shirts and wore black jeans, complete with enough dangling chains and piercings to almost be cliché, and one sported borderline obscene tattoos on his arms and across his throat and part of his lower jaw. It wasn't just what they were wearing, either: everything about their expressions and the way they slouched in their seats looked like trouble.
Any illusion that they weren't there to block the path was immediately shattered when the tattooed guy stood. “Hey newcomers,” he said, crossing his arms as he moved in front of them. The two punks he'd been sitting with smirked. “Those are some nice backpacks. Look like they might be full of useful stuff. Which is lucky for you since this is a toll road, and the only way past is giving me something worth my time.”
Wow, the camp's seedy element was pulling a stunt like this just a few hundred feet from the soldiers at the entrance? Trev glanced at his friend and, doing his best to keep his expression calm and his hand from shaking, took out his bear spray and pointed it at the would-be tollman's face. “Get lost.”
Their assailant's two friends started to stand, pulling knives, but froze when Matt pointed his own bear spray at them. As for the thug in their path, his tattooed throat bulged slightly as he swallowed, expression uneasy. “Looks like you guys get a pass,” he said, sidling over to join his friends. “I wouldn't turn your back on us as you walk away though.”
The threat was probably serious, but there was no reason not to let the punk save face a little now that the danger was past. Trev nodded at Matt and together they stepped over to the other side of the lane and edged past, staying wary and walking almost sideways for almost a hundred feet before they turned and hurried on.
“Well I've got to say it, man, you've got guts,” Matt said, tucking his can back into his pocket.
Trev felt a bit embarrassed, especially since he had to take a deep breath to get control of his nerves before answering. “I've just noticed that in a lot of dangerous situations if you act suddenly and decisively you can get a huge advantage. Then if you press that advantage you can resolve the confrontation quickly. The main thing is knowing when to act, or whether or not to take that kind of gamble at all.”
His friend nodded thoughtfully. “So you like the blitz method. Seems like a good way to look at things.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If we can't avoid a confrontation, at least. We should watch our backs in here.”
“Hopefully we won't be staying long. Although I wouldn't mind a meal and the promised cot. Fingers crossed your sister's family is where that lady said they were.” Trev quickened his pace.
Matt caught up to him and lowered his voice. “Doesn't it, um, bother you that we got mugged inside the refugee camp? And they had weapons! Isn't FETF keeping the peace here?”
Trev glanced over his shoulder at the punks now far behind them. “I wish I could say it surprised me but yeah, it bothers me. Notice that so far we've only seen soldiers at the camp's entrance or patrolling outside the fence?”
His friend abruptly broke into a trot, probably realizing what it meant for his family if the camp wasn't such a safe place.
It was hard to blame him. Safety was always a major concern, and from the looks of things FETF had just given the refugees here a place to sleep and meals and then left them to their own devices, which was a recipe for disaster. The camp may have been organized but the people weren't, and from what he saw there wasn't much being done to impose order.
In spite of the massive number of people very few were out and about, which meant everyone must have been hiding in their tents, and the few people he did see looked wary and regarded him with suspicion. Everyone he saw was also wearing dirty clothes, suggesting that FETF hadn't found a solution to laundry yet. He hoped they were doing better for the other aspects of hygiene.
The more he saw, the more determined he was that they shouldn't stay long.
The fifth tent on the right in Section F turned out to be large enough to hold a dozen people, partitioned with curtains around distinct family units. Matt asked a few women sitting in the doorway about the Lynns and they were invited into the tent, following an older woman to a partition near the back. Matt perked up when he heard childlike voices coming from inside and called out his sister's name.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then with a happy shout a small shape burst out from behind the partition and rushed over to throw his arms around Matt. That was his nephew Aaron, who was 5 if Trev remembered correctly. The young boy babbled a disjointed recounting of recent events while Matt held him, grinning in relief, and as he spoke April came out carrying Matt's other nephew, two year old Paul, followed closely by her husband Terry. At the sight of his uncle Paul squirmed free to also rush over and join the hug.
With Matt's brown hair it was easy to miss his Scandinavian ancestry, but April was tall and blond. Terry was also tall and blond, with hints of red in his hair, and thanks to that their two boys were both towheaded.
Trev held back to let the family enjoy their reunion as Matt straightened to throw his arms around his sister while his nephews hugged his legs, then reached out and shook Terry's hand. April was talking a mile a minute, asking questions one after another without waiting for any answers and expressing disbelief that they were here.
Matt briefly explained about seeing how difficult things were for the refugees around Aspen Hill and deciding he had to come up and help his sister and her family get safely down to town for his own peace of mind. Once he was finished April and Terry shared their own story about what had happened since the attack.
It turned out that the Lynn family had been well situated in their house, since it was in an out of the way neighborhood far from any riots. To add to that her neighbors had set up an armed watch program to deter the opportunistic looters who were taking advantage of the chaos to raid houses, especially in neighborhoods in more isolated areas. Between the watch and the food storage they'd managed to prepare beforehand they were actually fairly optimistic about their chances of hunkering down and outlasting whatever was coming, even if it took all winter.
Ironically it wasn't looters that shattered that dream. Or at least not lawless ones. Four days ago FETF had gone door to door in their neighborhood to offer assistance. From how April described things it sounded like the relief coordinators and their Armed Forces escorts had gone in asking about the household's supplies and wanting to see an inventory of whatever food the family had so they'd have a better idea of what aid was needed. Then, if they discovered that the house had more than two weeks' worth of food, they'd pounce in and confiscate everything and “recommend” that the family go to the Antelope Island camp where they'd be cared for.
“I wouldn't exactly call it deceitful,” Terry said when Trev expressed his outrage at the tactic. “Their motivations were certainly genuine. From what I hear anyone with less than the restricted amount was given assistance just as promised. It was only people breaking the ho
arding laws that had their food confiscated.”
“But they didn't even leave you with two weeks' worth,” Trev protested. “They used a law almost no one knew about to punish you for thinking ahead while rewarding your unprepared neighbors.”
“It's not a reward, just desperately needed charity,” Terry replied, although he didn't sound convinced.
“I think I'm with you on this one, Trevor,” April said. “It was a pretty rotten deal. But it turned out it didn't matter anyway since FETF also confiscated everyone's guns “for our protection”, so the neighborhood watch couldn't really guard us anymore. With no one to defend us and no food just about everyone decided they'd be better off here in the FETF camp.”
“Now let's not judge them too harshly,” Terry cut in hastily. “Remember, they're managing this disaster on a nationwide level. We might have our own individual problems, but they're trying to keep as many US citizens alive as possible. I'd say they deserve some leeway for that.”
Trev wondered if the couple was really as sanguine about what they were describing as they acted. If it had happened to him he'd be spitting blood. In fact, it had happened to him and he was splitting blood. They'd stolen his 1911! They hadn't even cared that he was a responsible citizen with a concealed carry permit, or for that matter that those neighborhood watch men protecting the Lynns' house were using those guns to safeguard their homes and community. How could April talk about them confiscating the weapons “for their protection” without sarcasm dripping from every word?
Matt must've sensed he was about to blow a gasket. “How have things been since then?” his friend hurriedly asked. “Have you been all right in camp?”
Terry was about to answer when his wife shushed him and gathered little Paul in her arms. “It's bad in here,” she confessed, holding her son tight. “Really bad. Women have been attacked. There's been murders. The FETF soldiers don't come in very often, only when it gets really rowdy, and then they come in with pepper spray and riot gear. They treat us like criminals in here. Terry hasn't slept well since we arrived, staying up nights too afraid for our safety to sleep.”