by Nathan Jones
And Lewis had to admit that the new rifle strap Trev gave him for his G3 was definitely something he'd needed, since his old one was seriously frayed from use.
Jim, who was becoming quite the woodcarver, had made each of them a small carving of their favorite animal. Lewis's was a coyote, curled up to sleep and yawning hugely, while Jane's was a fox carved almost exactly the same way so they could be displayed together. The young man had also worked with his dad to make two sleds, one for each family. And these weren't toys, either: sturdily built for hauling goods, Lewis guessed they could carry a fair bit of weight.
Mary had worked alongside Trev when he was making his buckskin, and had used hers to make satchels complete with padded carry straps for everyone. A gift that would probably see a lot of use as their backpacks wore out, and even before then in day to day activities.
Deb had a similar idea but on a smaller scale, making pouches for particularly precious possessions that everyone could wear around their necks. She was already wearing one that she kept her engagement ring from Trev inside.
Uncle George, after finishing the beds for his family and between helping Jim with the sleds, had gone on to make stools out of round sections of sawn logs and quarters of split firewood he'd trimmed and braced. He'd taken great pains to smooth and polish the sitting surfaces, and Lewis thought that as an item of furniture they'd be very useful and probably long overdue, especially when receiving visitors.
Jane, pragmatic as always, bluntly informed everyone that she'd gone out of her way to hunt while on patrol, when the weather permitted and the opportunity presented itself. That was something they all knew, but even Lewis was surprised to learn her motivation had been to give each family member a portion of the meat. To make the gift more special she'd used Lewis's spices to make it into jerky in a variety of flavors. While it was a modest amount, enough for maybe three days each, that was no small thing.
Lewis's own gifts were gratefully received. He was relieved to find that the Smiths were all excited about the exercise bike, and enthusiastic about the idea of producing their own electricity. He supposed that excitement would be dampened a bit when they realized how much work it was, but he was glad they were looking forward to the prospect of getting something useful out of exercise. Aside from healthy bodies, obviously.
With the presents all given out the family spent the rest of the morning playing games and singing carols. At noon Matt had planned a brief event with the town, mostly a chance for people to get together and wish each other a Merry Christmas.
The Mayor had originally planned for it to be in a lot next to the barn that had been designated as the future sight of the town square, but since the shelter group had their tree up, and with their permission, he invited the town to assemble there instead.
True to Matt's word the gathering out in the cold winter air was brief. The crowd sang a few Christmas songs, the Mayor gave a small speech, and everyone got a chance to socialize and enjoy hot drinks from the town's stores.
Although Matt did also take the opportunity to briefly interrupt the festive spirit, since he had a captive audience, with a stern reminder for the town about hygiene. Apparently not everyone was as careful about disposing of waste as the shelter group was, and he warned everyone to use the designated refuse and latrine pits he'd had dug months ago well outside town instead of just dumping their garbage and sewage right outside their houses.
“No matter how cold it is,” he finished, “go to the effort for your own sakes. The last thing this town needs is sickness caused by poor sanitation. If you think crapping in a bucket in the cold is unpleasant, imagine spending hours at a time doing it thanks to dysentery or some other condition. And don't forget that once the weather warms up the stench of all that rotting waste right outside your door is going to be horrific.”
“Thanks for the good cheer, Father Christmas,” a wag in the crowd called, and there was some scattered laughter.
Matt grinned good-naturedly. “All right, all right. It needed to be said, and now it's been said. Let's get back to enjoying ourselves.”
After a half hour or so the slight breeze picked up to the sort of cold wind that cuts right through even the warmest clothes and chills you to the bone. The crowd quickly broke up and everyone headed indoors. Lewis was grateful to get back home, where everyone huddled around the stove shivering until they'd heated up a bit.
He checked the charge in the bank of batteries attached to the solar panels, and after a bit of calculating announced that they could probably get away with a movie if they used candles for lighting that evening, and turned in early. The news was met with cheers, immediately followed by a spirited discussion about which movie they should watch.
Lewis retreated to the corner where Jane was seated on her new stool watching the conversation with a bemused expression. She leaned back against him as he put his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin, and for a while he just held his wife while basking in the warmth of home and family.
For all the primitive conditions and hardship, this had to be the best Christmas he'd ever had.
Chapter Six
Ill Wind
“As the days begin to lengthen, the cold begins to strengthen” took on a whole new meaning with nuclear winter.
New Years Eve was barely festive at all, as people huddled indoors from a cold that almost felt like a living thing, pushing at the outside of their cabins and driving them closer to the stoves in search of warmth.
The new year rolled over to thermometers showing -10 degrees, the first time that winter that temperatures dropped into the double digits below zero. But, as most grimly agreed, probably not the last.
Trev wasn't about to believe that even a cold that froze the air in his lungs, made his unprotected eyes burn and water, and chapped and numbed his skin within minutes would deter potential threats. He made sure his defenders were prepared for the cold and didn't expose themselves to it more than they had to, but he still kept the shifts going. And just to make sure he wasn't asking more of his people than they could handle he took regular shifts himself, so he knew what the conditions were.
The rest of the time he spent in his family's or the Halssons' cabin, the latter generally when Deb was on one of her own shifts, or if she was in the mood to go with him. The rest of the time they spent together or with the family, doing their best to keep each other from going stir crazy. Which, Trev was happy to say, his wife did a very good job of.
He hoped he was doing the same for her. She seemed happy enough, and as far as he could see appreciated the buckskin clothes he'd made her. It had taken a while for her to get used to wearing them, or maybe a while to break them in, but once she had she admitted they were surprisingly comfortable. She wore them most of the time when she was up and about.
And, Trev had to admit, she looked awfully good in them.
It turned out that when trouble finally came it didn't come from any outside attack. Actually it was a lot closer to home.
A few days after New Years Trev was up early to do his chores while Deb slept in. His wife was sleeping most of the day at the moment, since she'd agreed to fill in the midnight to six shift at a sentry post for a little while when one of the scheduled defenders abruptly dropped out of the rotation without a word. Trev had gone to talk to the man personally, but the only answer he got for him quitting was that he was done.
He supposed he couldn't blame the former defender. Brutal conditions, long hours, little compensation. Heck, he felt it himself, and he felt bad for asking it of Deb. Still, losing a volunteer put a greater burden on the rest of them, and it was a miracle only one person had quit so far. Maybe that was a lingering effect of the tragedy with the Weaver family and later bringing justice to the perpetrators, reminding his people of the reasons why they were sacrificing so much for the town.
It was early enough that his mom was the only one up, yawning as she stoked the fire in the stove to start breakfast. Trev came over to give
her a hug and warm himself by the stove for a minute before heading out into the cold, but as soon as his mom saw him she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the back door away from the living area, concern etched across her features.
“We've got a serious problem,” she whispered.
Trev's heart lurched in his chest. Not the best way to start the day. “What is it?”
Clair hesitated, then after a quick glance at the curtained off sleeping areas she lowered her voice even more. “We're missing food from our stores, over a week's worth for the entire family.”
The news hit Trev like a punch in the gut. A week's food for six people wasn't a problem. It was a disaster. “You're sure?”
She nodded miserably. “I figured I should do a tally to see how we're doing with rationing and how much we'll have left when it starts getting warm, if any at all,” she confessed. “We'll be spending the warm months scrambling to get enough for next winter, after all.”
“You did a tally right after we got the military's windfall, and have accounted for everything we've gotten from hunting, gathering, or from our animals, right?” Trev asked, just to be sure.
His mom wasn't offended by the question. “Yes to all that, and I've been carefully measuring out the amounts for meals this entire time. I trust the records I've been keeping, and we're definitely short. It's all food that doesn't require any preparation, too. Especially the sugary stuff.”
Trev nodded slowly at the obvious implication. “So we have to assume it was stolen.”
His mom's frown deepened. “That would be tough, considering there's almost always at least one of us in the house. And I'm sure I would've noticed if that much went missing all at once, so it was probably done in small amounts over some time.”
“I hate to ask, but it's not rodents, right?”
Clair shuddered. “Of course not, they leave a mess we'd definitely notice. And it's disappearing, not being nibbled at straight from the storage space.” She took his arm. “Should we talk to Matt, ask if anyone else in town has reported food being stolen?”
Trev didn't like to think it, but he had his own suspicions about what might be going on. If he was right he definitely didn't want it spread around town.
But he used another, equally reasonable, argument for his mom. “If they're stealing food over time we might be able to catch them in the act, and I don't want to let them know we're onto them by telling anyone else. Let me wait up a few nights and see what happens.”
Clair frowned. “What if they've stopped by now?”
He shook his head. “Then our chances of catching them are pretty low anyway.”
“That makes sense,” his mom admitted. “Aside from the part about you doing it.”
Trev shrugged and gave her a crooked grin. “With Deb out on shifts all night I don't have anything else to do. This will even get us on the same sleeping schedule.”
But she was adamant. “You're in your room with a closed door between you and the scene of the crime. Besides, you need your rest for your own shifts. Let me handle this.”
Trev wanted to argue that the thief might be dangerous, but his sneaking suspicion was that whoever it was wouldn't be. He reluctantly nodded. “Be careful,” he cautioned anyway. “You'll let Dad know about this just in case you need help, right?”
“I will, to both.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. By her miserable expression he had a feeling she had her own suspicions, and didn't like them any more than he did.
He spent the day weighed down by the loss of so much food and who might be behind it, enough so that Deb noticed and did her best to cheer him up. Which just made him feel even worse for putting her on the spot. He occupied himself exercising with Lewis and reloading bullets for most of the day, and after a quiet evening with his wife he kissed her goodbye as she headed off for her shift and settled in to sleep, wondering how long this mystery was going to be hanging over his head.
It turned out not long.
He'd only been asleep for a few hours when screams sent him lurching out of bed, fumbling for his gun before he realized they were angry and accusatory, not frightened or calling for help. And he recognized both voices.
He burst through the door to find Linda standing defiantly near the food stores, holding a box of cereal partly behind her back as she shouted furiously at their mother, who had her daughter pinned with a flashlight beam and was shouting back with equal fury. Jim was sitting wide-eyed on his bed with his blankets pulled up around him and his privacy screen thrown back so he could see what the commotion was all about, while their dad stood partway between mother and daughter trying to get a word in edgewise.
Finally George sucked in a breath and did his own shouting. “Enough!”
The room fell silent. Their dad didn't often raise his voice, so it was partly surprise. But mostly it was his tone, equal parts firm and pained. Clair and Linda turned to look at him for just a moment, and that was long enough for him to speak.
“You've been sneaking food, Linda?” he demanded. “Long enough to eat up a week's worth for the whole family?”
The young woman's face crumpled in sudden misery, all fury gone. She dropped the cereal and slumped against the stacked food stores, beginning to cry. “I couldn't help it!” she sobbed. “Mom doesn't give us enough, and what she does give us is nasty stuff like that chili. I was starving!”
“We're all starving!” Trev snapped, stepping farther into the room. He'd seen his sister put on a show with the waterworks before and wasn't buying it. “You think this helps?”
Linda shot him an angry glare. “Some of us more than others! You and dad get way more than the rest of us. I was just getting my fair share.”
He couldn't believe she'd make that argument. “We're adult men! Our bodies require more calories to survive, and I'm doing physical labor on top of that. Even then we're eating less than we need, doing without so you guys can have a bit more.”
“Sure, use science when it's convenient for you,” she said snidely. Tears still shone in her eyes, but even false contrition seemed to be gone from her expression.
“It's not science, it's common sense!” Trev didn't even try to hold his temper. “And don't try to turn this around on anyone else. You were stealing from your own family! From yourself, since you'll suffer with the rest of us once we run out of food!”
“Then at least I'll have a few decent meals to remember as I starve to death. Besides, this food's as much mine as anyone's.” Linda reached down and picked up the cereal box, starting to crack it open as if she'd eat the stolen food right in front of them.
Her dad slapped it out of her hands. “I don't think you realize the trouble you're in, young lady,” he said grimly. “Go wait in Trev and Deb's room.” She opened her mouth to protest, and his voice lowered an octave. “Now is not the time to test me.”
After a tense moment Linda stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
“What's wrong with her?” Jim demanded from his bed. “Why can't she see how the world is, now? She acts like everything is the way it was before the Gulf burned, nothing but high school drama and pointless rebelling and selfish behavior that causes problems for everyone. And she talks like everything we're doing to survive is just because we like making things difficult for her. And she won't do her share of even the basic chores: I've had to empty and scour the latrine bucket a dozen times now, usually after the contents have already frozen solid, because she says it's too cold to do it herself.”
“I should've noticed she was the only one in the house not turning to skin and bones,” their mom said, slumping down onto her and her husband's bed with a half sob. “And of course she sleeps all hours of the day if she's up all night eating.” She flicked off the flashlight, plunging the room into the dim glow of the nightlight beside the back door. But only for the moment it took her to find the switch to turn on the Christmas lights strung across the middle of the ceiling.
They couldn't afford to have those on
for long, since daylight was scarce and two houses used the electricity from Lewis's panels. Even having it was an incredible luxury. But it was some comfort to have steady light under the circumstances.
His dad sat beside Clair, putting an arm around her with his own shoulders slumped in weary grief. “All other questions aside, what we really have to figure out is what to do next.” He pulled his wife a bit closer. “First off what happened before all the shouting, dear?”
“About what you'd expect,” she snapped. “Like our son suggested I was waiting up, watching and listening. It took so long I almost thought nothing would happen at all, and then I began hearing just the softest rustling. So quiet I almost thought it might be mice after all, like Trev guessed. Then I realized it was Linda sneaking out of bed as silently as she could to not wake anyone up.”
His mom paused and shot Trev an apologetic look. “I suspected Deb before that moment. I'm sorry.”
“What?” Trev demanded incredulously. “How could you even? She's been the best thing to happen to this family since we all made it back here from the prison camp.”
“I know.” His mom started to cry. “I couldn't really imagine she'd do something like that, but I didn't know who else it could be. But when I half listened and half watched in the gloom as your sister made her way over to the stores, snuck out the food, and got ready to eat, I realized I wasn't really surprised after all. I wish I had been. I wish she hadn't-”
She cut off, burying her head in her husband's shoulder and breaking down into miserable sobs. “Oh George, what are we going to do with her?”
“The town's penalty for theft is exile,” Jim pointed out. They all turned to stare at the young man, aghast, and he hunched his shoulders. “I'm not suggesting it! I'm just saying you've let her get away with some pretty rotten stuff before, and now it really matters. So you better not let her get away with this.”
“What if Linda herself suggested the solution?” Trev asked. They turned to look at him. “She basically said she was eating her own food. So we split her share off from ours, minus the amount she took, and let her do what she wants with it while we make sure she doesn't get any more of the rest.”