by Nathan Jones
Jane was showing small signs of improvement, with every indication that she'd be up and about after a reasonable amount of time with no permanent damage. When Matt talked to her she offered to join the town's defenders on a patrol route once she was strong enough, as well as any available hunting parties too on her days off.
After what he'd seen from her Matt had no issue with the idea, but since he'd turned over protection of the town to Chauncey Watson in his absence he told her to seek him out once she was healed. He also warned that he was taking the town's doctor so she needed to really make sure she was healed before pushing herself.
Their neighbors were oddly incurious, both about them moving and about Matt and Terry's planned trip. Not that Matt and his family spread either of those things around, but those they did tell didn't even ask where they were going or why. Matt didn't know whether to be worried or relieved by the lack of prying, although he trusted that Catherine had things in hand if anyone turned out to be untrustworthy.
When they took their first load out to the shelter his dad climbed the hill to check the observation post first thing. He loved the way it had been set up so the two people the recessed space accommodated could either lie prone or kneel with rifles firmly planted on a low, sturdy sandbag wall that ran the entire way around the shallow hole. His dad even joked semi-hopefully about the chances of a deer finding its way past the hunting parties and wandering right in rifle range of the relatively isolated shelter. Especially at night.
Matt appreciated the thought, but he wouldn't complain if four-legged animals kept their distance if it meant the shelter was spared the approach of two-legged animals as well.
While they unloaded and went for the next load of possessions his mom got to work in the shelter, lighting a fire in the big stove at the back of the room and opening the vents to air the place out. The next time Matt and the others brought a load out they found the sleeping area curtained off into rooms and everything they'd already brought packed away in chests at the foot of the heavy cots in each room. They were able to unload the wagons directly to where the things were supposed to go on that trip, which took slightly longer but meant less work overall.
It turned out that even though they were moving from the home they'd lived in most of their lives, when it came down to it his parents didn't have too many possessions they strictly needed to take with them. They brought photo albums, the fine dishware and silverware, their clothes, some of their blankets, other personal things, and anything else that might prove useful. But in the grand scheme of things a lot of their possessions they left behind, packed into boxes up in the attic trusting that Jane's group would respect their property, but not terribly concerned if any of those nicknacks were stolen.
As for the furniture, his mom definitely didn't want to lose it, but she had to trust that the refugees would take care of everything while living there. She had a long conversation with Jane about it before the redheaded woman's group moved in, and seemed satisfied with things after that.
In the early afternoon the move was complete. They were in the shelter and the refugees were in their house. The last thing they did for the move was lock up their new underground home and hike back into town to go over the house one last time and officially welcome the refugees in, give them a tour, and do what they could to help them get settled in.
Then they returned to the shelter to do their own settling in, exploring the space, doing a bit of cleaning, cooking dinner on the new stove, and finally preparing to sleep in their new beds. Matt was a bit disappointed to realize that even with heavy curtains too much sound got through for him and Sam to continue their usual habit of staying up talking quietly, and everyone ended up going to sleep earlier than usual in a sort of uncomfortable silence interspersed by the occasional goodnights. The boys even made a game of it, shouting goodnights loud enough to be heard everywhere in the shelter until their mother scolded them into silence.
The next morning Matt went over the route his dad had taken, making sure Sam and Terry knew it as well as he did, and then they loaded up their wagons with food, tarps, and camping equipment for the trip, along with their weapons and ammo, and headed out. He'd worked out a deal with Catherine to acquire an AR-15, something between renting it and purchasing it, along with a couple hundred rounds of .223, a spare magazine, and the equipment to clean it. He'd pay for the ammo with food when they got back, and the rifle itself he'd use for his duties protecting the town once he resumed them.
It was a generous deal he was happy to accept, and he felt a lot more comfortable about the trip with the assault rifle slung across his back and his Glock at his hip as they set out, with Terry carrying his shotgun slung on his back and Sam with her revolver in a holster on her belt. They were well armed, their route was isolated and fairly safe, and they were all in fairly good shape.
Fingers crossed if they were careful and made good time they'd all be back soon with every single bit of food in the cache.
For all their worry the trip was a fairly uneventful one. The weather turned cold, the days were long and full of walking that tested Matt's injured leg until it grew stronger, and the hills they passed through seemed oddly deserted no matter how carefully they searched. They saw no sign of any of the people his dad had encountered, either hidden or no longer there.
They did see a few deer on the way up, and there was quite a bit of debate about whether to bag one. Matt argued for it, while Terry argued that they'd end up transporting the meat all the way up to the cache and back and it would be nearly as much work as benefit. Not to mention that even in the cold weather there was no guarantee it wouldn't spoil. Sam had a more pragmatic argument, that none of them knew how to field dress or quarter a deer even if they brought one down, and learning might take a lot of time and risk providing less meat and possibly even tainting it.
In the end they left the deer behind to hopefully wander closer to Aspen Hill for the town's hunters to bag. Matt agreed that their focus should be moving as quickly as possible.
The trip up didn't take long. They reached the cache on the third day and checked the highway, which looked eerily abandoned of any traveling refugees. Small surprise in the cold. Matt almost thought the state of Trev's car was funny at this point, when every time he saw it it was in worse condition. His dad was right that someone had burned the interior, leaving it a gutted hulk.
The cache remained hidden, and it didn't take long to dig it up and load everything that remained in the wagons. Matt was a bit concerned to see that after what had already been taken from it what remained wasn't quite the limitless bounty he'd hoped for. Still, with care and finding other ways to supplement their diet it would hopefully be enough to last the family through the coldest months.
It would have to be.
They split the food between the wagons so each carried about two hundred pounds, not an impossible weight but certainly one that required extra strength to pull. Especially over long periods of time over rough roads. Sam was able to manage the weight with a bit of effort, however, which would make a difference on the trip back since they'd have three people to pull the wagons instead of two.
There were other things in the cache that Trev left behind, either by accident or because he didn't think he'd need them and they were heavy or bulky, including various useful camping items and a few blankets. They took those as well.
The trip back took longer, slowed by the wagons and their muscles getting used to constantly towing the extra weight. They also paid even more attention to their surroundings in case of attack now that they had precious food to steal. The trip that had taken about two and a half days to get up there took almost six to return to Aspen Hill, but considering how long his father had been gone Matt called that a good pace. Thanks to good meals and careful rest their strength also increased as they towed their weights, and before the end Sam was more easily handling her wagon when she towed it.
Matt made his fiancee blush by complimenting her toned muscl
es on a rare warm afternoon when she removed her coat, and she insisted he return the favor and take off his own coat to do some flexing for her. Terry ended their banter by threatening to throw a bucket of cold water over them, and although his brother-in-law was just joking and the day was mild Matt still had no desire to get wet and chilled. They kept going, mood lightened but not forgetting their urgency to get home.
On the eighth day, still several miles from home, their good luck ended and the snowstorm that had been dumping in the mountains looming to the west for the last few days finally made it down to where they were in the foothills. They kept going through the heavily flying snow for as long as they could, as wet slush caked on the tires of their wagons and forced frequent stops to knock it off. But finally near sundown they gave up on reaching the town that day, if it was even possible, and decided they'd finish the trip in the morning.
The first snow of winter had arrived, giving them a taste of what they could expect in the coming weeks. Matt was just grateful it had waited until they were almost home.
Just before noon they reached the shelter trudging through almost a foot of wet snow that clung to the wagon wheels, their feet, and the trees on the slopes behind them and the houses in the distance in front of them.
When they arrived they were pleased to discover that Matt's dad had brought down a deer after all, not while waiting in the observation post while it wandered within range but by sighting it in the hills and going after it, a chase that lasted almost two hours. He'd had his own adventure getting the animal cleaned and quartered and the meat brought home with only a passing knowledge of how it was done.
Still, they had venison to go with other food at the celebration dinner that evening, almost as joyous as Thanksgiving had been. While it was cooking Matt had sought out the Mayor and Chauncey, who'd taken over for him while he was gone, about resuming his duties and offering whatever other aid he could. Terry came as well to do what he could for anyone who'd fallen sick or been injured in his absence. They spent the afternoon in town pitching in, coming back to the shelter for dinner chilled and with the snow still falling thickly.
The next day Matt returned to work, almost surprised at how quickly the duties that he'd held for only a week, most of it while off his feet, became routine and things got back to normal. Or at least as normal as possible after the attack. Which wasn't to say they were good, at least not for the town.
But for Matt it meant no more journeys. No walking to Antelope Island and back for April's family, no skulking along backroads with wagonloads of food hoping not to be attacked. Just patrols and more to look forward to in the coming days, weeks, and months, as winter gripped the town and the suffering of its people became more and more real.
The only thing he really had to look forward to was his wedding.
Chapter Eleven
Winter
The days-long snowstorm about a week and a half after Thanksgiving marked the end of any real adventuring for Trev and Lewis. At least any that didn't involve slogging through snow that ranged from knee to hip deep, with only the faint hope that you might not sink all the way through the crust unless you could make your way through the densest clumps of trees where it was a bit better. Although even there you had to be careful not to brush a branch or you might end up buried in a mini avalanche.
Lewis had two pairs of snowshoes for when they really needed to get around, but after trying them Trev quickly learned that using them was as tiring as wading through deep sand. Something to avoid unless he was taking a long trip and really needed them. For slogging to the outhouse and back they were more effort than they were worth, especially once they'd stomped out a trail.
His cousin stopped the patrols, since at this point the winter would do a better job of hiding them if they weren't making tracks everywhere in a half mile radius. They didn't go up to the logging road at all, since that was the most likely place where unfriendly eyes might discover tracks. Instead they'd periodically slog down to the cliffs and from there scope out the mountainsides around them and the road below for any sign of people.
They never saw any.
Beyond that there wasn't much they did outdoors besides visit the woodpile, the icebox, and the outhouse. On warmer days they tried their hands at snares and Trev even braved the climb down to the river for fishing now and again. The catches were few and far between, mostly not worth the effort, but during daylight hours they went out anyway, as much to escape the cramped but warm confines of their hideout as anything.
Days passed to weeks, then months, as their food supply slowly but inexorably dwindled. They started a routine inside the shelter of exercising and doing dry fire training drills with their firearms, lifting the cots off to one side to give them at least a bit of room. It got tedious beyond all belief after a while, but they stayed in good shape and as active as they could.
And nobody could say Trev wasn't quick on the draw and good at swiftly lining up a shot on any random knothole or woodgrain, with arms that didn't waver in the slightest. He was also more than prepared to clear any malfunction that didn't involve his familiar Mini-14 or new Glock literally falling to pieces in his hands.
Every week on a day when the weather was decent they checked along the cliffs for interlopers, then hiked a short distance to a spot where hills surrounded them on three sides, most importantly in the direction of the road to block the sound. There they spent a few precious rounds keeping their aim solid with both pistol and rifle, repeating the familiar drills they practiced in their hideout with live ammo.
Trev finally mastered the recoil on his .45 to his satisfaction, and with extended practice with his rifle he got to the point where he could reliably hit targets far enough away that he had trouble seeing them through the scope, as well as multiple closer targets in a quick sequence of shots. He still felt like he had a lot to learn every time he watched his cousin's practice, but time was on his side when it came to catching up.
As the winter months passed they remained in isolation, not even seeing signs of neighbors or travelers passing through, and Lewis was quick to insist that he was more than happy with that. For his part Trev wouldn't have minded a bit of company now and again to relieve the monotony, and especially missed his college days that seemed a lifetime ago, where he'd been able to interact with people his own age.
Thousands of people his own age, often doing things he had no interest in doing. Then, that is: activities that had at the time seemed almost too boring to bother going to now filled his fondest memories, and he even missed the quiet focus and occasional laughing conversations of study groups. And dates. He really missed going on dates and other opportunities to spend time with members of the opposite sex.
He'd always enjoyed spending time with Lewis, and on those long winter nights they found plenty of topics of conversation to talk about. But with nothing new happening and no news coming in you could only say so much to the same person about the same things.
Luckily with his forward thinking Lewis had included some musical instruments with his other things, a few harmonicas and light plastic recorder, so they had something besides conversation to divert them. They spent many an hour clumsily learning to play all the songs they knew, and while at first the sound was worse than silence, or for that matter worse than cats yowling, eventually they improved enough to be enjoyable. Although after most sessions Lewis would end up grumbling about his left behind hard drives and the prospect of listening to real music.
It was his cousins's second favorite topic, behind reminiscing about Aspen Hill and speculating on how their friends and neighbors were doing. Especially during the coldest nights of late December and January, with the wind howling outside and little light except what they could get from the stove, Trev thought he heard a bit of regret in his cousin's voice, especially when his speculation started turning to how things would've been if they'd tried to stay in town for the winter, even with Ferris and everything else.
Trev had his o
wn regrets about that, especially wondering how everyone felt about him after Mandy, but he didn't dwell on it much aside from when Lewis brought it up. Ultimately here was where they were and where they'd be, unless they wanted to brave snowdrifts over their heads trying to get down the mountains. At least in the hideout the main thing they had to worry about defending against was snow piling up in front of their door or over the icehouse and outhouse. Considering the alternatives it was a foe he was happy to face.
Still, as January passed into February with March looming on the horizon Trev grew more and more restless, spending increasing amounts of time exercising or striking out along the snowy slopes around them even on the coldest days just to escape the dim confines of the hideout.
In spite of all the ways of producing light they'd brought they were running out, of batteries and kerosene and candles, and more and more he wished Lewis's foresight had included a window. Or maybe a bank of south facing windows like Lewis talked about as the ideal setup for an underground house in winter, although he hadn't had a chance to do it for the shelter or the hideout.
Either way Trev was more than ready for winter to be over. Whether they made their way back to Aspen Hill or stuck around in the mountains spring couldn't come soon enough for his tastes.
* * * * *
The wedding took place one week before Christmas.
Matt's parents and April all thought having it just three weeks after his proposal was a bit rushed, considering how before the attack weddings usually took months to plan. But it wasn't like there was a venue to book, a cake to order, decorations to plan, coordinated tuxedos and dresses to rent, and guests on both sides of the family from all over the country to invite. No need to plan a DJ or a band, apply for a marriage license, sit through a surprise bachelor or bachelorette party, or any of the other things that went into weddings these days.