Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2)

by Nathan Jones

  Jane made no comment, and didn't even excuse herself as she walked over to Matt to ask if they were ready to go. Trev considered trailing along to try to keep the conversation going, but if his friend was right about her social preferences he'd probably just annoy her. That just meant he'd have to take his opportunities to talk to her as they came, without trying to force the issue too much.

  In a way the trip down was much easier than the trip up last fall, in spite of the snow. They had more people to help with the wagons on rough stretches, and pulling sleds across snow was a lot smoother than jouncing the wheels over rocks in the road, at least where the powder wasn't so soft they sunk right in and had to be laboriously dug out or a path tromped down for them. Wherever there was a crust, though, and especially since most of their path was downhill, the sleds were more eager to get where they were going than the people pulling them. The challenge there was keeping them under control.

  In any case for the most part they managed a much better pace than they had last fall, possibly even twice as fast, following Matt, Tom, and Jane's footprints in the snow. Taking turns with the sleds they managed to keep up the pace with fewer rests, going slower than Matt's group had managed but not markedly so.

  That night they cooked up some of the meat from the icehouse on skewers over the fire, tearing into it with great enjoyment as the cold winds blasted around them through the branches of the small copse of evergreens they'd found for their campsite. From the sounds of it venison wasn't anything unusual for Jane and Tom, but as Matt ate his fill he looked as if he'd died and gone to heaven.

  The next morning Trev grumbled loudly as he shivered his way into his winter clothes and ducked out of his tent into the clear, cold predawn glow. Back in the hideout the banked stove didn't give too much warmth by morning, but at least the reasonably well insulated space always stayed well above freezing, and he only had to suffer the cold for a few minutes as he rekindled the fire and waited for it to heat the small room up.

  The others complained too, Lewis for the same reasons he was. Matt's situation was similar since before this trip he'd also been able to enjoy relatively comfortable mornings, and even Tom and Jane in the Larsons' house didn't have to worry about a plunge into the heart of winter the moment they got out of their sleeping bags.

  It was a fairly miserable group until they got the fire going again and cooked a bit more of the meat for breakfast. Matt assured them that things would warm up before too long on today's hike, although the snow would remain all the way to the shelter so they'd have a path for the sleds. With the thought of warmer weather to spur them on they started out and made good time.

  Later that afternoon they reached the bottom of Aspen Hill Canyon, making the trip that had taken them a bit over five days in a little under two. Trev supposed the difference lay in having extra people to share the load, as well as carrying a couple hundred less pounds of food and less ammo, some of which they'd used during their live fire practicing. The downhill trek and the sleds definitely did their part too. He might even have been willing to credit some of it to some of the muscle he and Lewis had built in the fall sticking around thanks to consistent exercise.

  Before they'd gone too much longer they were greeted by Pete Childress on patrol. The young man excitedly shook hands all around, then radioed in about their arrival and handed the radio over to Matt so he could talk to the Mayor. After a bit of discussion they agreed to meet at the shelter to talk, and they left Pete behind to walk his route as they continued on.

  Trev was surprised at how excited he was to be back, and over every hill they dragged the wagons around he craned his neck for his first view of the shelter. He caught sight of the smoke from it first, drifting lazily over the shorter of the two hills that bracketed it. They followed the dirt road around the hill, the same one they'd taken when they left, and there it was.

  He paused and turned to grin at his cousin, who grinned back. They were home.

  * * * * *

  It didn't feel 100% like home as they approached, mostly because the area in front of the shelter was full of the Larson clan busy at work doing laundry and other cleaning, including the partition curtains and the cots themselves. It was a good guess that when they knew the shelter's owners were on their way back they decided to do some spring cleaning and try to have the place as nice as when they moved in.

  Everyone paused to wave as they arrived, but Sam did more. The dark-haired woman had been up to her elbows in soapsuds, but as soon as she caught sight of her husband she broke away with a happy shout and bolted over to him, throwing her arms around his neck nearly hard enough to knock him off his feet. For his part Matt didn't seem to mind the suds as he hugged his wife close.

  Trev and Lewis had both already been introduced to Sam last fall, but even so Matt introduced her again. She seemed slightly reticent around them, at least until they offered her their heartfelt congratulations on the marriage and subjected Matt to a bit of lighthearted ribbing. After that she seemed to relax, and soon after the rest of Matt's family arrived to welcome them back.

  That welcome included fervent thanks for the use of their shelter and for the cache that had kept them alive that winter, as well as a few uncomfortable apologies about moving into the place without asking. Lewis was quick to give them the same assurances he'd given Matt, although he looked as uncomfortable with the overwhelming show of gratitude as Trev felt.

  During the reunion Jane and Tom held back by the wagons, waiting for the Mayor to arrive. They stayed there as Trev and Lewis were pulled into the shelter so they could inspect it and rest assured that it was just like they'd left it. Actually Trev thought it might've been a bit cleaner and better organized now: Lewis was tidy enough, but he rarely subjected the shelter to any kind of deep cleaning. It looked as if they'd swept and even scrubbed the carpets. And the walls and ceiling! Even the stove looked as if it had been scoured.

  In a way he almost felt bad, looking at the malnourished, sickly family who barely had energy for surviving. They'd worked hard to make up for their use of the shelter, and it had probably cost them strength they couldn't afford to spare. The grand tour of the place took them past what little remained from his cache, probably not enough to last them another week even at the severely reduced rations they were keeping to.

  Matt had also been looking at the food, and his friend actually had tears in his eyes as Trev met his gaze. Trev felt his own eyes stinging as he thought of what his friends might have suffered without that gift. What they had even with it. Matt seemed to be working himself to offer some thanks, but his eyes had already said everything that needed saying, and words couldn't add anything.

  Trev wanted to let his friend know that he never had to thank him for that gift, that it wasn't a debt he'd ever need to repay. That the sight of all the Larsons alive when so many had died was all the reward Trev had ever wanted. But words were as useless for him as for his friend, so he simply gripped Matt's shoulder firmly.

  At that Matt turned away, wiping at his eyes, and Sam came over to hug him. When she looked at Trev her eyes expressed the same gratitude before she buried her face in her husband's chest. Trev looked away to find all the Larsons, even the boys, looking at him and Lewis the same way, and he suddenly felt very awkward.

  Luckily a rap on the door's sheet metal exterior broke the mood, and they turned to find the Tillmans, the Watsons, and a few others grouped outside the door. Trev made his way over with Lewis and Matt, the others coming behind, and endured yet another round of hugs and handshakes before the Mayor got down to business.

  Everyone was glad to have them back, but they were also very, very hungry.

  Lewis led the way to the woodpile, much reduced after being used by the Larsons over the winter although not as much as it could've been, and got everyone's help in shifting it to the side so they could get at what was beneath. When his cousin drew away the covering tarp to reveal the thirteen 50lb buckets remaining in the cache, along with Lewis's .22
rifle, his shotgun, and the extra ammo they'd left behind along with a few other possessions too heavy or bulky to bring along, Trev saw disappointment flash across quite a few faces in the crowd, including Catherine's.

  Thirteen buckets was quite a bit for one or two people, but for an entire town it seemed a lot less. They'd been hoping for more.

  Catherine was the first to find her voice. “You have food in your wag-”

  “No,” Lewis said, politely but firmly. “Just this.”

  Much as it pained him, Trev had to agree. They had about two-thirds this much food in the wagons, but it wouldn't help the town much compared to the fact that it felt like the bare minimum of what he and his cousin needed.

  The Mayor sighed. “It's something at least.” She rested a hand on Lewis's elbow. “Come on then, let's talk business.” She led him and Matt off to the side for a quiet discussion.

  While they were gone Trev hopped down to begin handing buckets up, putting aside his and his cousin's other stuff to be brought back into the shelter. Some of his and Lewis's ammo was compatible with the weapons Matt's family was using, like Terry's shotgun and Matt's AR-15, and they could trade for ammo for the weapons they'd got from the bandits. Between all of it they were pretty well armed.

  As he worked Tam Raymond leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder. “I bet you wish there was more here too,” she said quietly, by way of apology for the lack of enthusiasm. “But one or one hundred, we're grateful.”

  Trev did his best to smile up at her. “Let's hope for good hunting and a good harvest.”

  The Mayor shook Lewis's hand, then hurried over and whispered in Chauncey's ear. The retired teacher's shoulders sagged. “You want your solar panels back,” he said to Lewis.

  Rather than answering his cousin held up a hand and hurried around the hill, coming back a short while later with the bulky tarp-wrapped bundle from his wagon. He opened it up to pull out a panel from a road sign, revealing a dozen more inside and the hint of batteries at the bottom. “I've been busy during whatever warm days winter gave us,” he said with a smile.

  “I'll say,” Chauncey replied, smiling back. “Road signs. I didn't even think of that.”

  Lewis nodded. “I think between these and the ones Ferris took from me we can rig something up so I can power the shelter without needing to gut your base of operations. And if you guys haven't tossed all the TVs, monitors, and projectors into the garbage, along with any portable hard drives, maybe you can think about other ways to use that power. I've got terabytes worth of books, music, TV shows, and movies on portable drives in the shelter that I'd be happy to copy over to anyone who's got working technology. Assuming the data hasn't been corrupted.”

  Trev was surprised when that news drew a heartfelt cheer from several people in the group, including Tam, who practically jumped up and down. He supposed that the winter hadn't been all that entertaining for people in Aspen Hill, either.

  For her part Catherine smiled warmly. “I think a movie night would lift the town's spirits. The town hall has a few projectors we used for meetings and presentations. Chauncey, why don't you take the cousins into town to sort out their solar panels, and while you're at it you can see about converting the clinic into a theater until we can work out a better solution.”

  That drew another cheer.

  * * * * *

  Trev and his cousin hurriedly stowed the stuff from their wagons inside the trunks at the feet of the cots they were offered, aside from the meat which they packed in snow in a tarp until they could figure out what to do with it.

  Then Lewis packed up his hard drives and a laptop and carried them outside to where Chauncey waited, while Trev carried the bundle of scavenged solar panels and batteries. Even though they'd been useless up in the mountains and would probably have ended up as junk before too long, he still felt better about the fact that the town would be benefitting from them rather than just him and his cousin.

  The rest of the delegation from the town had already left hauling the buckets, but they'd probably catch up before too long with their lighter load. Either way Trev was actually more than happy to be walking with Chauncey, since the man was one of those in Aspen Hill he'd most looked forward to getting back in touch with.

  After all, the retired teacher had manned the town's radio all through the winter, and after being incommunicado up in the mountains for months Trev was eager to pump the older man for information. Lewis seemed to have the same idea, and while Chauncey did look amused at their eager questions he was more than happy to fill them in.

  Most of the news was bad, which was hardly a surprise. Among other things, Chauncey told him that the main event that had people talking over the last few weeks was that the Gold Bloc had sent troops into Canada, Russia from the east and China from the west. There were rumors they'd done so at the invitation of the Canadian government, and the US's neighbor to the north certainly wasn't resisting the invasion.

  Invitation or no, one of the first places the Gold Bloc took over was Alaska, taking control of oil production there. That certainly constituted an invasion and a threat to US national security no matter what agreements Canada had made. Reports on what had happened to Alaskan citizens were conflicting, anything from going about their lives in troop occupied cities, to welcoming the foreign presence with open arms thanks to being provided aid they desperately needed, to being herded into refugee or forced labor camps, to being expelled from the state entirely.

  Whatever their fate, in response to the event the remnants of the US government, mostly military bases, had announced to the world their findings that Russia was responsible for the Gulf refineries attack. There was some doubt about the authenticity of the claim, but the US had used it as a pretext to declare war on the Gold Bloc nations and warned that if foreign troops didn't leave Canadian soil within the next month they would utilize their nuclear arsenal.

  Chauncey's personal opinion was that this was just saber rattling, considering the government remnants had also promised to start launching nukes if Canada was invaded in the first place and they hadn't done that. Either way Trev found it hard to believe that after a winter where tens or even hundreds of millions of American citizens had died there were people out there willing to commit the nation to war against the world's new superpower.

  Then again the US troops stationed up there to protect, or perhaps more accurately secure, Canada's supply of crude oil couldn't be ignored. With their critically low reserve of fuel the nation couldn't afford to bring those troops home, and possibly didn't intend to either way. Likely one of the first things the Gold Bloc soldiers did on Canadian soil would be to attack those troops and secure the crude oil for themselves, at which point thousands or even tens of thousands of US soldiers would die. The government had to do something to prevent that, and this was the only card they had.

  Unfortunately the rest of the world, particularly the Gold Bloc, expected the US to fold. Especially since Russia was offering fuel to help those troops get home to their families, as well as limited aid to the country in its current crisis. Nobody expected the government to pass up that kind of deal.

  Trev certainly hoped they wouldn't. There'd been enough chaos and death without adding war on top of it, and for the US holding Canada's oil in a death grip when there was no hope of the country returning to sustainability in the near future, and perhaps not for decades, was foolish if not suicidal.

  Lewis had another perspective, if not a pleasant one. “I have my doubts about whether anything the US does will ultimately change things,” he said grimly. “We're struggling just to survive, with rebuilding a long way away and any sort of coordinated military presence even more distant. The Gold Bloc could've made deals for Canadian oil without invading Canada at all, which means if they were invited in then those troops aren't meant to stay on Canadian soil.”

  A trickle of ice spread down Trev's spine. “You think they're planning to invade the US once Canada's secured?”

  �
�They might not even wait that long.” Lewis shook his head. “Think about it. Most occupations are difficult because even after you've dealt with the occupied country's military you still have to deal with resistance among the civilian population and the effort and expense of moving troops and keeping them supplied.”

  “Well I'd say our military is very nearly dealt with,” Chauncey said grimly.

  “Which gets us to occupation. The US's greatest defense has always been that trying to occupy any of our territory would be a logistical nightmare for anyone on another continent, because taking supply lines across either the Atlantic or the Pacific would increase the time, expense, and difficulty to coordinate by orders of magnitude. And then once they got on US soil they'd be facing a population of hundreds of millions of people with a reputation as being one of the most well armed populaces in the world.

  The only way they could hope to manage it is with the cooperation of either Canada or Mexico to use as a point to launch the invasion. Up until now the US would've immediately intervened if enemy troops had tried something like that, and we'd have shorter supply lines to our neighbors than an enemy preparing an invasion from their soil. It would be easier for us to defend than for them to attack.”

  Trev nodded slowly, feeling sick. “So now that our military is out of the picture and hundreds of millions of US citizens have died, and the rest are stranded wherever they are with no fuel to mount any sort of resistance, an enemy could just drive right in and take our nation piece by piece.”

  “We'd be an ideal target, too,” Chauncey muttered. “We were knocked out without needing to use nukes, disease, EMP, or even good old fashioned bombing. Our people are dead but all the infrastructure, commodities besides food, and wealth remains. They could even move settlers in to live in fully functional communities without too much trouble. Probably a tempting prospect for China with their large population.”

  This wasn't exactly the most heartening conversation. Trev knew it was probably something they'd have to prepare to deal with, assuming that was even possible, but for now the twitching between his shoulder blades was encouraging him to change the subject. Although there was one important thing he had to mention. “How far have you been able to go with your radio contacts?” he asked Chauncey.