First Spring (Nuclear Winter Book 2)

by Nathan Jones

  Grimes winced slightly. “Well that brings us back to the “picking clean the carcass of what used to be America” thing I mentioned earlier. We don't know how much we'll be able to purchase with what we've got, especially since Mexico's got the monopoly on food and can pretty much name their price. I'm guessing in the next decade they'll get fabulously wealthy off keeping their northern neighbors fed, but we're not them so that doesn't help us much.”

  “I get it,” Matt said. “You want us to pool together anything we can spare that they might be interested in, to help you make the purchases.”

  “No, to help you make the purchases,” the colonel corrected. “The military's stockpiled assets will be used to help everyone, but on an individual level we're helping the towns and camps, and even smaller groups, broker their own deals to trade supplies for food. We'll be taking a small middleman's fee, but aside from that this is your opportunity to secure your town's situation for the coming winter.”

  Grimes abruptly smiled grimly. “I believe it was your own spokesman, Lucas Halsson, who rightly pointed out to me that the better the individual towns pull through this the better off the whole nation will be.” He looked around. “Speaking of which, I was looking forward to the chance to talk to him again. I wanted to offer him a position on the negotiating team, considering his experience working in the Gold Bloc bureaucracy and how he impressed me over the Rogers situation. Where is he?”

  All eyes immediately turned to Lewis, whose face bore a restrained but deep expression of grief.

  Grimes caught sight of it and deflated slightly, speaking up to spare Lewis having to give the painful news. “Ah. I'm deeply sorry for your loss. I didn't have the chance to know him long, but in the time I did know him he impressed me greatly.”

  “Thank you,” Lewis said quietly, doing his best to control the quaver in his voice.

  The colonel awkwardly turned businesslike again. “Anyway, we're encouraging everyone to do whatever scavenging and foraging you can for anything useful to trade. On our end we'll do our best to secure the fairest deal possible, and leave the door open for future trade. All of us may be stuck on this continent together, and not everything's friendly, but with some work we might just be able to pull each other up out of the Dark Ages we've found ourselves in.”

  That raised another cheer from the crowd.

  Grimes lifted his hands for quiet again. “One last thing. For the larger and more well off towns and settlements like Aspen Hill, we're going to do something fairly different than taking their resources and being the middleman in trade deals. Specifically General Erikson, who'll be personally leading the convoy, doesn't want it to be a strictly military one. He wants communities to see to their own trades if they're able, and only have to rely on the military and its resources if they're unable to do so. So if you have a running vehicle and enough trade goods to purchase food from the Mexicans to fill it for the return trip, you're in. We'll provide the fuel.”

  Matt spoke up. “Just one?” In their current circumstances they might actually have trouble getting even one truck up and running, but if they could manage more they might have the trade goods to fill them up.

  “For now,” the colonel agreed. “Unfortunately at the moment we've only got enough gas and diesel to spare to get a hundred or so vehicles there and back. You can bring a trailer to increase your load size, but that's the best we can offer.”

  Matt nodded dubiously. “All right. But one vehicle can't hold enough for all the town's needs.”

  The colonel sighed. “No, this convoy won't solve all our food problems even if we load it up to the last inch. One vehicle should be enough to get your town through half a month for everyone, though, which should take the edge off your desperate situation. Since Canada is part of the summit we're hoping they'll have fuel to trade so we can send more convoys, like I said on a more long term arrangement. Or at the very least we can arrange a deal so they'll ship us fuel once they have enough to spare.”

  Matt glanced at Catherine, who paused thoughtfully. “I think we can manage with that arrangement,” she said.

  Grimes shrugged. “I hope you can. The convoy's going to be able to do even less for the refugee camps we're struggling to manage, since we've got hundreds of thousands of mouths to feed even after the brutal winter. But it offers hope for the future, and that's more than we had.”

  “So we might not be able to spend all the wealth we can scrape together on this run, and probably shouldn't so we can have trade goods for future convoys.” Lewis reasoned.

  “Right. Anyway let us know if you can have a vehicle ready in one week, and we'll have a spot for you in the convoy. I'll leave the fuel for you when I leave today, since sending a vehicle to bring it around after we get your decision would be a waste.” He gave them a stern look. “If you don't happen to get a vehicle running we'll have to take it back, you understand.”

  “We'll get a vehicle running,” Matt assured him. Even if they had to hike to every camp in the area and scour all the abandoned cars around Aspen Hill scrounging the parts they needed.

  “Good. Then after I've had a word with your town's leaders I'll be on my way. Thank you for your warm reception and attentive ears.” Grimes carefully stepped down from the podium.

  * * * * *

  The crowd reluctantly stayed back as the colonel and his escorts moved off with Matt and the other town leaders, although Matt could practically see their ears quivering as if they hoped to overhear something.

  His mind was already on plans for getting a truck and trailer ready and filling them with trade goods. The colonel's aide had handed him a folder with pertinent information on trade goods, the timetable and scheduling for the convoy including meeting places, and other useful details, while Grimes was speaking quietly with Catherine and Ben about how the town had fared through the winter.

  After a minute or so the colonel broke away and came over to Matt. “A quick word, Mayor Larson. As you might know we have elections for a civilian government planned for the beginning of June, a month away.”

  Matt nodded. “I've been following that on the radio a bit. Or at least Chauncey has, and he's kept me filled in.”

  Grimes rubbed his hands together briskly. “Good. We trust Aspen Hill is ready to be folded into the new government?” Matt hesitated, but nodded. “Then we'll be sending a lot of paperwork your way, details of the planned restructuring, legal documents, contracts and charters, that sort of thing.”

  Wonderful. Matt had no idea if he'd even be able to fill out that kind of paperwork, let alone understand it well enough to judge whether some detail would be against Aspen Hill's best interests, or what he could do about it.

  Hopefully Catherine and the others would be able to help him there. “It should be an exciting process, and we look forward to having more official leadership to look to,” he said. “Who do you support for President, Colonel? If I could ask.”

  The senior officer grinned. “Well my choice may reek of favoritism, but I know Ian Lassiter very well. He was an exemplary general, and I'm willing to put the fate of the country in his hands again now.”

  Matt supposed that was fair enough. But before he could respond Lewis cut in. “Does he have a plan for the country moving forward? How we're going to rebuild and get back to where we were before the Gulf burned?”

  Grimes looked a bit irked by the question. “I haven't asked him, but I'm sure he does.”

  Lewis didn't seem satisfied by the answer. “What about the refugee camps? How is he going to convert them into productive communities that can provide for themselves?”

  “That's . . . actually a very relevant question,” the colonel admitted. “Probably the most vital one facing us at the moment, and one I've personally spent a lot of time considering.”

  Matt spoke up before his friend could continue his pressing. “I'm sure you have a workable solution in mind.”

  “Then you're more confident than I am.” Grimes rubbed between his eyes,
looking pained. “I don't know how this is all going to work. All I do know is we desperately need our civilians to stop sitting around in camps waiting for us to feed them. They need to get to work providing something, anything, useful for themselves and by extension the rest of the nation. Scavenging, hunting, gathering, farming, production of raw materials and goods, whatever they can think of and manage with what they have. We need all our communities to be like Aspen Hill.”

  Matt felt a surge of pride at the praise, for his town and how they'd kept it together as well as they had. But he was also bothered by the colonel's admission; what remained of the US was going to crumble to dust if it stayed a nation of refugees dependent on aid that just couldn't keep coming. “Any thoughts on what you'll do?” he asked.

  The older man snorted. “We probably set a bad precedent last fall. We couldn't realistically turn the civilians loose to start new lives, due to lack of manpower and resources with everything we were expending fighting the blockheads. We had the windfall food and just dumped it on people, which got them used to expecting a free lunch without any effort to earn it. And we had winter coming so there was no time to get everyone doing anything but making shelters to survive and gathering up what food was available. But it means that this spring we still have massive refugee camps, where we need to spread out into small farming communities and scavenging, trading, and hunting posts. It's not going to work for much longer.”

  Lewis looked thoughtful. “If scavenging is going to be our main chance to feed ourselves short term, it'll probably mean we'll have a lot of people going out beyond our borders searching for stuff, outside the military's protection.”

  That insight didn't do much for Grimes's mood. “Which is going to be even worse, since we're already stretched so thin trying to contain the CCZ within their new borders. And they're sending out more and more slaving parties as the weather warms up.” He sighed and abruptly straightened. “Well this has turned into an incredibly depressing conversation, and I've got to get to the next stop on this tour. Like I said, we'll leave enough fuel to get your vehicle to where the convoy's meeting up in Moab and then we'll be on our way.”

  “Moab?” Lewis repeated. “Is the convoy taking Highway 191 all the way down, then?”

  Matt couldn't believe his friend actually knew which highways went where. Was that from helping Trev plan his trip to Michigan, or did the guy just spend his free time studying maps?

  Although come to think of it, 191 merged with 6 not far from Aspen Hill before continuing southeast to Moab, so Matt should be embarrassed he didn't know more about the local roads himself.

  Grimes also looked surprised and a bit impressed. “Yes, actually. It'll take us all the way to I-10, which we'll follow the rest of the way to San Antonio, and 191 is a smaller road so we're less likely to encounter trouble from bandits or blockheads. Not to mention taking us well around any targets of nuclear strikes from the Retaliation. It also goes through some pretty inhospitable terrain, which will definitely help make the route safer. As long as the road itself is still in good condition it should be ideal.”

  “Wait, hold the phone,” Chauncey, standing awkwardly on his prosthetic leg, cut in. “Are you saying the summit's in San Antonio, Texas?”

  “A bit north of San Antonio, actually,” the colonel replied.

  Matt couldn't see what the problem was, but obviously everyone else could. “Are you saying Mexico's taken over Texas?” Catherine asked.

  Grimes looked surprised. “Yes. Texas, Parts of Nevada, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Arkansas, and they're pushing into the Southern States. Who did you think was contesting us down there?”

  “So we're going to be trading with people who are invading our country?” Matt asked, seriously bothered by that.

  The colonel snorted dourly. “In case you hadn't noticed everyone's invading us. Even Canada, our friendly neighbors to the north. Our population was almost wiped out, we can't even settle most of our territory let alone defend it, and everyone knows that. They're taking what they want before we recover enough to say anything about it.”

  “So it's another situation like Canada,” Lewis mused. “We keep relations friendly with them and pretend we're overjoyed our “allies” are moving in and restoring order, because we can't do anything to stop them.”

  “Pretty much.” Grimes's eyes narrowed. “And take the bunny ears off “allies”, son. They really are our allies, and even if we don't like losing land to them they've helped our people more than they've hurt us. More importantly, without them we might still lose this war against the blockheads, not to mention starving to death even before next winter starts.”

  “Right,” Lewis said reluctantly. “But it doesn't mean we have to li-”

  “Ah!” Grimes interrupted, brightening as he made a beeline for the crowd of townspeople. Specifically, where several of the veterans the town had taken in were standing. “Speaking of the war against the blockheads . . . Ms. Grant! You came with Lucas and the others to present the town's situation to me during that trouble with Rogers.”

  Carrie Grant looked a bit panicked at being singled out. As she was prone to do she turned her head slightly, like she was trying to make the eyepatch and scars on the left side of her face less noticeable. “Um, that's right, Colonel.”

  The colonel's expression turned sober as he shook her hand. “Your situation is a saddening one, and a harsh condemnation on the enemy who did this to you. In fact, I was wondering if you'd like it to be.”

  The scarred young woman frowned and absently adjusted her eyepatch, self-conscious at the attention. “Like what to be what?”

  Grimes paused for a moment as if trying to think of how to say it. “We're going to be encountering every significant faction on the North American continent at this summit, including the Central Controlled Zone. The Canadians and Mexicans don't have firsthand knowledge of the atrocities the blockheads committed against the citizens of our country. I want to put reminders in front of them of just how bad the CCZ is, and of our need to band together to oppose them. Your situation could help with that.”

  “I think I get it.” Carrie's mouth twisted in a half smile due to her scars. Or maybe from bitterness. “You want me to be the face of American suffering.”

  The colonel flinched slightly. “I'd never want to exploit your pain, or-”

  The young veteran cut in. “I'll do it.” At his surprised look her smile turned fierce. “Are you kidding, Colonel? A chance to walk right up to a bunch of blockhead bigwigs, point at my eye and these scars, and say “this is your fault!” A chance to rattle off a list of dozens of buddies I watched die or get horribly maimed in combat? I'd love to.”

  Matt had to admit he was conflicted by that. Carrie was one of his townspeople, and Grimes wanted to capitalize on the natural sympathy people had for the suffering of young, pretty women by putting her in front of the entire summit. Not to mention the fact that she was incredibly sensitive about her scars, and the colonel wanted to put them front and center.

  On the other hand Carrie seemed excited by the chance to face the architects of her blinding and make them acknowledge what they'd done. To be honest he didn't mind the thought of that either, especially if it would get Canada and Mexico on their side.

  “Good,” Grimes said, appearing pleased with himself. “Then I look forward to seeing you in Moab.”

  After a few final handshakes and farewells the colonel and his staff piled back into their vehicles, and the town watched as they drove off.

  Once the convoy had passed out of sight over the western ridge Matt realized the majority of the crowd had turned to look at him expectantly. “Well,” he called, clapping his hands briskly, “I guess we've got some preparations to make.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Setting Out

  Lewis hadn't been this excited in a long time.

  A trade summit! Every single nation in North America pooling all their most valuable and useful trade goods.

  He
couldn't imagine a more ideal spot to sell the ammunition he'd been reloading all winter. Actually he'd been worrying about just that problem almost from the beginning. Sure, the bullets would always be in demand and he'd never have trouble finding a buyer, but in a way the fact that the ammo was so valuable was its biggest impediment to trade in a small community with limited resources.

  He'd resigned himself to making a long, dangerous trip to some larger community or settlement, possibly even the main refugee camp outside the ruins of Manti, to trade. Then he'd have to find a way to haul a much larger volume of less valuable goods home, again fearing banditry along the way.

  Even under the best circumstances he'd have trouble finding anything worth accepting in return for the bullets, and considering the trouble he'd had finding all the reloading materials his business might stop cold for months until he could get in touch with another source or find Ned Orban, the trader who he'd gotten the primers and smokeless powder from last fall who might hopefully have more.

  But now he'd be able to kill two birds with one stone. A massive number of potential buyers, a chance to get his hands on items he and his family actually needed in return, and an opportunity to refresh his stock of reloading supplies and, with luck, even get what he needed to expand his business.

  Of course anyone who knew Lewis well would guess he'd be over the moon about news of the trade summit, and why. Which was why shortly after Grimes left, and the town leaders had agreed on a later time to formally meet and discuss preparing to send a truck to the trade summit, Matt came to visit him.

  At the knock on the door Lewis interrupted his work counting out reloaded cartridges into plastic baggies. He wished he could get his hands on ammo boxes and plastic holders, but those were considered trash and usually thrown out, and by the time he'd thought to collect them he couldn't find many.

  When he saw it was Matt at the door Lewis opened it wider and invited him in. His friend settled into the chair in front of the reloading bench, but seemed reluctant to bring up why he was there.