by Nathan Jones
Meanwhile Lewis has been leading several attacks against the blockheads occupying Aspen Hill, and has fended off a few attacks as well. Disaster strikes when the enemy feints an attack up Aspen Hill Canyon. When Lewis takes a team in a truck to hold them back they're ambushed by a small group of elite enemy soldiers who target the truck with a rocket-propelled grenade. Lewis manages to avoid the strike by veering the truck off the road, but in the crash Mayor Tillman's son-in-law is killed and Lucas suffers a broken leg. In the aftermath the Mayor calls Matt back home to assist her running the town, while Lewis blows up the road leading up the canyon and takes reinforcement volunteers south to help Trev and the others along Highway 31.
After a brief period of fighting the blockheads capture Corporal Williams and two of his men and stake them up within view of Davis's people to die slowly. Lewis had been planning a raid on the nearby blockhead camp to destroy their armory, and at this provocation decides to go that night. He and a small team including Trev manage to sneak in, but Trev is separated from them and forced to flee to a structure in the middle of the camp.
There he discovers hundreds of blockhead prisoners, captured US citizens who were being used as slave labor and brutally mistreated. Among them is Deb, barely recognizable after her ordeal. Against Lewis's objections Trev resolves to help the prisoners escape if possible. With the help of Davis and others in the military providing distractions they manage to get the prisoners to safety, although many are killed in the escape. Vernon comes to their aid, prompting a reluctant reconciliation between the two groups.
The fighting intensifies over the next couple weeks, and news reaches them that Canada is resisting Gold Bloc occupation, largely motivated by the enemy's mistreatment of prisoners. With their supply line disrupted the blockheads become even more desperate, and there's some hope that if the US forces can hold out a bit longer the enemy will leave. Many of the freed prisoners volunteer to join the fighting, including Deb, who joins Trev's squad.
In one final attack the Gold Bloc forces hit the US forces in the mountains from all sides. The fighting is brutal, but Aspen Hill's volunteers south of Highway 31 manage to eliminate hundreds of enemy soldiers by using Lewis's plan to lure them into a landslide that engulfs the entire hillside. After that the enemy doesn't send much more their way. Following a brutal day of fighting the blockheads are finally turned back on all fronts, and they pull out of the area and retreat back to their territory with the US military in close pursuit.
Trev, Lewis, and their volunteers return home with Deb, Trent Lincoln, and a few other volunteers who were part of their squads and have nowhere else to go. The town has relocated to a valley farther west in the mountains and are digging in to prepare for the nuclear winter that will soon be upon them. A wounded Pete Childress is found by a military convoy heading east to continue the fight against the blockheads, and is invited to enlist. This concludes the events of Determination and the Best Laid Plans series. First Winter begins soon after and continues the story.
Dramatis Personae: Since there's a large and well established body of characters from the Best Laid Plans series, for those who'd like a reference on the ones who'll be prominent in the Nuclear Winter series a Dramatis Personae has been included at the back of the book.
Prologue
Pipe Dreams
The hideout had been ransacked.
Trev supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Sure, it was fairly well hidden from anyone on Highway 31 or any of the dirt logging roads that crisscrossed the mountainside, and they'd determined for themselves last fall that anyone on the opposite mountainside would have a tough time picking it out, even with binoculars. You'd have to blaze an uncomfortable trail off the beaten path to get to where you could see it clearly.
At the same time, the small structure was only a few hundred yards upslope of the highway, and there had been a lot of people passing by down there recently. You had to cross Huntington Creek to get up that slope, sure, but that wasn't the most insurmountable barrier. Especially where refugees and possibly even soldiers might break away from the crowd to hunt and forage, or even fish the creek.
He looked around the tiny room where he'd spent the last winter with his cousin Lewis. It was completely bare, aside from a few stray bits of rubbish not even desperate scavengers had deemed worth taking. There weren't too many signs of vandalism, at least, aside from where the hasp on the door's padlock had been torn free of the frame. Whoever had come through here had obviously either had enough respect for the space to leave it alone, even if they were stealing from it, or they'd been in too much of a hurry for wanton destruction.
But the biggest relief was that the small wood burning stove was still there, although slightly moved from its usual place. As if the looters had tested its weight before deciding it was too much to bring with them.
Actually, if the looters had to leave one thing behind out of everything they'd taken, the stove was what Trev had desperately hoped would still be here. It was a miracle that it was.
One of the main reasons he'd come up to the hideout with Lewis and Jane, aside from to check on its condition and do some hunting and fishing, was to make sure that small but heavy hunk of cast iron hadn't been stolen. With nuclear winter approaching it was practically worth its weight in gold.
Especially since Lewis was making this trip largely as a favor to Trev. Specifically for Trev and his mom Clair, dad George, and siblings Linda and Jim. The Halsson cabin where Lewis and Jane, their sister Mary, and their mom and dad Lucas and Eva lived already had the larger, nicer stove Lewis had brought from the shelter, so this one would be going into the Smith family's cabin.
That was a huge deal. Thanks largely to Lewis's preparations both cabins already had carpet, windows, decent furnishings, and even efficient lighting from strings of LED Christmas lights, and limited power to recharge small devices and even watch the occasional movie on a projector. Those were all luxuries in new Aspen Hill, which was building itself from the ground up as people forced to flee their homes struggled simply to put roofs over their heads and scrabble for the bare necessities.
Facing the prospect of brutal temperatures to come, Trev was once again grateful his cousin seemed to have planned for every potential need. The most noticeable part of that planning was how Lewis had provided enough electricity for their two families, using a system of solar panels and car batteries he'd set up in the shelter, augmented by what he'd scavenged from road signs up around the hideout last fall and winter. Sure, it wasn't enough to reliably produce heat except in emergencies, especially when winter days were so much shorter and less bright, but the use they got out of it made all the difference.
Although even electric lighting paled in comparison to this stove. Darkness was unpleasant, but without a reliable way to heat their home survival would've been a serious issue. Now though, between the solar electricity and these stoves they'd be as well off as could be hoped for this winter.
At least where lighting and heating was concerned. Food was still a critical problem, which was why even though the priority for this trip was to take the stove back to their newly relocated town, using the bike trailer they'd brought if it could handle the weight, so much the better if they also managed to bag some game, fish, and forage.
During the fight against the Gold Bloc invaders the military had “requisitioned” just about all the town's supplies. Sure, they'd also promised to include the town in any redistribution of supplies down the line, but Aspen Hill had firsthand experience with how that sort of thing usually went so they weren't holding their breath.
Most of them would be more than happy if the military just didn't come back at all, rather than coming around looking for more supplies. Trev knew they owed their lives to the brave soldiers who'd fought off the blockheads, and the military was being fair about keeping the civilian refugees in their care fed as well as their own people. Still, it wouldn't matter much that the Gold Bloc had retreated if everyone in Aspen Hill ended up sta
rving over the winter anyway.
But that was a problem for another day. For now there was the work they'd come up to the hideout to do.
Trev had assumed they'd immediately get started removing the stove and pipes and loading them onto the trailer, then see how much weight the trailer could still hold and how much time they had to look for food. But his cousin seemed to have other ideas.
“Hey listen,” Lewis said in a low voice, pulling Trev out of earshot of where Jane was inspecting the stove's interior. “You're okay with doing some fishing on your own, right? A chance to relax?”
“Um, sure,” Trev said slowly, shooting his cousin a confused look.
“Awesome. So maybe if you wanted to take your time, stay down there for an hour or so . . .”
Trev got the hint. Their families were packed into two small cabins holding five people each, which didn't leave a lot of chances for real privacy. The hideout might've been stripped bare, but it still had the wood burning stove and a door that shut. Practically a honeymoon suite compared to what they were used to.
“Gotcha,” he said, doing his best to hide his amusement. “See you in a few. And if you find the time, maybe you can also manage to bring down some game.”
Lewis looked up at the sky, where the sun was still barely past noon. Although it looked as if it would soon be obscured by a brooding bank of clouds coming in from the north. “We've got time. I for one love it up here, so I'm in no hurry to leave.”
“Yeah well you're not in charge of the town's defenses,” Trev replied wryly. He waved to show he was just kidding and started downhill across the gentle meadow in front of the hideout, towards the cliffs a hundred or so yards away that overlooked the mountainside leading down to Huntington Creek.
That terrain below the cliffs that was anything but gentle, incredibly steep and choked with deadfall, underbrush, and treacherous patches where pine needles and other detritus had piled up over damp clay-rich ground to make for easy slipping. The only way to get down to that slope from above the cliffs, without walking over half a mile in either direction or attempting a somewhat dangerous climb, was a single gap that still required some climbing. Nothing too difficult or dangerous, but care was needed.
Trev picked his way down through the gap and to the unkempt path leading down to the river. The air was surprisingly chilly considering it was August, and a stiff wind sent wisps of clouds scudding across the sky ahead of the dark bank that had now covered the sun.
The cold didn't stop squirrels from chittering as he passed, along with the flash of one or two other small animals in the underbrush. Nothing worth unslinging his AK-47 to take a shot at, and anyway he was here to fish. After all, if he was going to lug his pole all the way up here on his bike he wanted to get some use out of it.
Since the hideout had been ransacked he was glad he'd brought most of his stuff back to Aspen Hill last spring, instead of leaving the fishing pole and a few other things like he'd been tempted to do. Fishing was possible with some line and hooks, and you could always rig up a crude pole if you had to, but having a proper one was infinitely better.
Or at least it should've been. He set up at the usual spot where he'd had plenty of success last winter, a bend where the creek slowed and large Douglas fir trees shaded the water. There was even a log that made a comfortable spot to sit if he wanted. He cast a dozen or times, using the familiar techniques he'd first been taught by his uncle Lucas as a kid with all the patience required for proper fishing. In that time he didn't get a single bite.
After about an hour with no success Trev tried moving, then after a half hour moving again. He used all the tricks Lucas had ever taught him, searched for all the spots trout would be most likely to lurk. He even tried climbing onto a dead tree that leaned over the creek, looking down to see if he could see any shadowy shapes in the clear water.
Nothing. This was a drastic change from last fall, when almost nobody had been up here and the creek was teeming with fish that practically leapt onto the hook. A few hundred thousand refugees seemed to have taken care of that, fishing up and down Huntington Creek and doubtless along all the nearby lakes and reservoirs too. The few trout that remained would be small and wary, or old and cunning.
It wasn't a complete waste of time, at least. Using every trick in the book he managed to hook three smallish trout. If this had been a leisurely fishing vacation from before the Gulf burned that wouldn't have been too bad, but considering the urgent need to gather food for what was going to be a long winter it felt like nothing.
He was almost relieved when he heard a gunshot echo from the mountainside up above. Unless those two were really getting creative, that probably meant they were ready for him to come back up. And since it was Lewis and Jane, a shot fired probably meant they'd had better luck than him and had bagged some game.
Trev gathered up his stuff and started up the treacherous slope, feeling almost embarrassed about the fish on his line: not even enough for dinner for his family tonight. At least he'd be bringing home a stove to cook them on.
He reached the cliffs without incident and was most of the way up the gap, reaching up to grip the top and climb over, when the muted murmur of voices made him freeze. After a moment he lifted his head and saw Lewis and Jane standing on a rock outcropping not far away, staring up the clearing at the hideout. Lewis had his arms wrapped around his wife from behind, and Jane was leaning back against him with her head tucked under his chin.
The two weren't exactly shy about public intimacy, but even so Trev had the uncomfortable feeling he was interrupting a moment. He hesitated, trying to decide whether to let them know he was there or try to climb back down the gap. He wasn't sure he could do it quietly, and definitely not quickly or easily. The two could look over and see him at any time, which would just make the scene even more awkward.
During his hesitation Jane spoke up, voice barely carrying to him. “I guess it was always a pipe dream, wasn't it?”
His cousin was slow to answer. “A bit of one,” he finally admitted. “Maybe a ways off.”
She snorted. “When could we live here? We're staring down nuclear winter and this place was brutal for you even during a regular winter. There's no knowing how long it'll be before the climate goes back to normal. And even if we could survive conditions up here, we can't leave Aspen Hill. We need our family, the community, and they need us.”
“A long ways off,” Lewis amended.
“And when we survive it all, you know we're going to be building our life as we go. Our life with each other, with our friends and family. It'll be harder and harder to break away. And once we're all doing well enough that the future looks good, that's about when we're going to start thinking about having children. This wouldn't be a good life for kids.”
His cousin chuckled ruefully and pulled her closer. “A vacation home, then.”
“A pipe dream,” she repeated flatly. Then she sighed and turned her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “But it was a nice one.”
Trev shifted uncomfortably, finally deciding that letting them have their moment didn't make up for the eavesdropping. He continued his climb, trying to be extra noisy, and raised his voice. “Lewis? Jane? I figure I've pulled as many fish as I'm going to from the creek, which wasn't many. If you're done we should grab the stove and head back.”
“Over here,” Lewis called. He still had his arms wrapped around his wife, although their posture was more casual now, less intimate.
Trev made his way over to them and held up the line with its dangling fish. “Every trick I knew,” he said in disgust, “and this is it.”
“Not too surprising. With so many refugees in the area the creek's probably being overfished from Electric Lake to Fairview.” Lewis gave him a lopsided smile. “Luckily the hunting situation's slightly better. Sure, everyone with a gun is trying to fill their bellies, but that's a comparatively smaller number. And it's easier to rig up a fishing line than a weapon that can bring down big game
.”
That made Trev brighten. “So you did get something? I heard the shot.”
“A cow elk,” Jane said. “Four or five years old. Although it's a bit scrawny. Maybe too skittish with all the people around to feel safe feeding.”
“Still, it's an elk,” Trev said. “Scrawny or not, that'll feed a few people.” An adult elk could provide upwards of triple the meat of an adult deer, which definitely helped make this trip worth it.
Lewis nodded. “We've got it field dressed, but it's in an awkward place so we need your help getting it up to the road and onto the trailer. Not to mention finding a way to make it fit.” He shook his head. “It might not, and we can't split up the stove to carry in our packs on the ride home.”
Trev grimaced. They had tarps and plastic if they needed to quarter the carcass to go in their backpacks, but even well wrapped meat had a tendency to make a mess. He supposed the stuff in his pack was due a bit of cleaning and maintenance anyway.
But that was a decision they could make once they got the stove loaded up and had a better idea of how much more the trailer could take. After they brought the elk back to the hideout and unloaded it first to get the stove on . . . nothing was ever easy. Still, it was probably a bad idea to tempt fate by complaining about having food.
“Lead on,” he said.
His cousin nodded and started up the gentle meadow, past the hideout and to the steeper slope above it which lead up to the logging road where they'd left the bikes. Lewis and Jane would've been keeping an eye on them and the surrounding area as they hunted, but even so it was a relief to see they were still there. Including the prized bicycle trailer.
The trailer was actually an opportunity that had practically fallen into their laps. A few days ago a footsore family of refugees had come up Aspen Hill Canyon from the east, with effort navigating the blockage where the town had dropped a cliff and destroyed the road to prevent the Gold Bloc forces from ever being able to use it.