Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  The drizzle stayed steady as they manhandled the stove up to the bikes and loaded it. Their mood wasn't helped as they determined the trailer couldn't also handle the weight of the elk, but none of them complained as they got to work skinning and quartering the carcass under the protection of a stand of evergreens. Even with experience that wasn't a fast process, and the foul weather kept on the entire way through, dripping cold water on their backs as they worked.

  It was still drizzling when they started home. And every time Trev looked up at the peak he saw that blanket of white, spreading slowly down the slope like mold. It wasn't just evaporating away the way hail did.

  Even if it was a fluke, even if they still had time, it was an unpleasant reminder of just how far they were from being prepared. Assuming it was even possible to fully prepare for a nuclear winter that could last twice as long as normal.

  On the plus side, at least his family had a proper stove now.

  Chapter One

  New Arrivals

  Matt couldn't help but notice the woman sitting crosslegged where the road leading through the valley turned off onto the newly laid gravel path that led to new Aspen Hill. He could've sworn Trev had told him he might be gone overnight, and if his friend told him he definitely would've told her, but there she was anyway.

  In her mid 20s, nearly a head shorter than Matt with shoulder length brown hair and dark green eyes flecked with brown, Debra Rutledge had stuck pretty close by Trev's side in the eight days since the volunteers had returned from the fighting down at Highway 31's canyon, after they'd helped the military send the Gold Bloc forces packing. Hopefully for good.

  Matt supposed a bit of clinginess was understandable, since his friend was one of the few people she knew and trusted in town. She'd told Matt a bit about herself the few times they'd talked, but most of what he knew of her story came from Trev.

  It wasn't a happy tale. She and his friend had originally met in Newtown last spring, when Trev had stopped at the trading post to buy supplies on his way to Michigan to find his family.

  Trev had met her again on the way back to Utah with his family, although that hadn't been quite as enjoyable a meeting; Newtown's sheriff, Fred Vernon, had stolen Trev's family's truck, along with a lot of the town's weapons and supplies, and he and a bunch of Newtown's defenders had driven off and abandoned the town.

  According to Deb, after that the citizens of Newtown had been forced to flee south to escape the blockhead invasion coming from the north. Only they'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire, running smack dab into another enemy invasion front coming up from Mexico. They'd found themselves trapped in the middle of nowhere, with enemies ahead and behind.

  The Newtown citizens had split up into smaller groups to try to avoid detection, but Deb had been captured along with the rest of her group. In typical fashion the blockheads had only taken the young, healthy men and women and left the elderly and children to fend for themselves. That was a small mercy, since reports indicated the enemy was just as likely to execute anyone they didn't take prisoner.

  Deb had been brutally mistreated in the blockhead camp, to the point that when Trev found her about a month ago she'd been gaunt and nearly too weak to run for freedom with the other prisoners.

  Physically she'd almost completely recovered since then, regaining her health and youthful appearance. But she still wasn't quite the carefree, friendly woman Trev had talked about meeting in Newtown. After her ordeal, perhaps she never would be. That was reflected in her decision to join the volunteers after gaining her freedom, learning how to shoot and work with fellow soldiers so she could be part of the fight against the blockheads.

  After hearing a report on the work she'd put in Trev had invited her to join his squad. Then, after the Gold Bloc's final attack along all fronts surrounding the southern Utah Rockies had been pushed back, and the enemy had left for good, Trev invited her and the other freed prisoners who'd fought beside the Aspen Hill volunteers to come home with them.

  And here she was. Matt could tell that whatever she'd suffered, and however her experiences had changed her, she still tried her best to return to the the woman she'd been before her capture. He wished her the best in it.

  Still, it was a bit concerning to see her waiting around for Trev to get back when he could be gone for hours or even longer. And just how long had she been sitting there in the first place? She looked damp enough that she'd probably been out in the brief drizzle of rain that had passed over the valley earlier, and the fact that she hadn't sought shelter from it was also concerning.

  He abandoned his plans to talk to Chauncey about getting in contact with the nearby towns to share information, at least for a few minutes, and made his way down the path towards her, calling a greeting.

  At his approach Deb pushed to her feet and waved. “Hey Matt. You here to wait for the cousins and Jane to get back from their secret adventure, too?”

  The words were playful, but Matt caught the slightest edge to her tone. He'd been there when his friends left, and seen how desperate Deb was to go with them. But the hideout was Lewis's secret to share, and his friend was very careful about keeping it that way. It wasn't an issue of trust, just caution about not letting too many people know its location, and she'd been gently but firmly turned back.

  “Nah, they'll get back when they get back,” he replied, coming to stand beside her looking west, although the slope of the valley they were in blocked his view of the peaks their friends had traveled to. “Actually I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Sam's been doing her best to help Terry, but she's nearly seven months along and getting to the point where the work takes a lot out of her. I'd really appreciate it if you could give her a hand.”

  Deb smiled wryly. “Why do I get the feeling you're worried about the fact that I'm just sitting out here in the rain like a lost puppy, so you're trying to give me something to do?” Matt opened his mouth, working for some sort of response, and her smile widened slightly. “I appreciate it. Give me a bit longer and I'll go make myself useful.”

  “Sure.” Matt turned to leave.

  Deb called him back. “Hey, what was the deal with that guy who went into town?”

  This was the first he was hearing of anything like that. He turned around. “Huh?”

  The brown-haired woman pointed vaguely. “Some middle aged man headed into town just a few minutes ago.” She patted the pistol holstered at her hip. “Seemed pretty tense, maybe even a bit suspicious, so I stared him down and he gave me a wide berth as he passed. If Trev was here he'd probably want to keep an eye on him, see what his deal was.”

  Matt fought down his irritation. She thought there was at least some cause for concern but she was still just sitting here? “Okay I'll go check it out,” he said, starting down the path at a trot.

  Now that he was aware to be looking, it didn't take long for Matt to spot the newcomer heading down new Aspen Hill's “Main Street”. Right now that was just a continuation of the gravel path leading south into town from the road, running between the thickest cluster of stick-and-mud houses and log cabins. Matt didn't know how he'd missed the man, unless the guy had stopped for a rest while he was on his way out to talk to Deb.

  Like she'd claimed the newcomer was older, in his late 40s or early 50s. Maybe even 60s . . . he had the look of someone who'd spent his life taking good care of his health.

  Although if his physical health was good, his emotional health was a bit frayed at the moment. Deb had also been right that he looked incredibly nervous, eyes darting from person to person on the street and hand clutching the revolver holstered at his waist as he walked farther into town. For their part the townspeople were looking a bit skittish too about an armed stranger giving them the stink eye. Their relief when they saw Matt coming to sort out the situation was palpable.

  The man turned at Matt's approach and their eyes met. Matt gave him a friendly wave and kept coming, hands well away from his own 1911 at his hip. “Hey there, w
elcome to Aspen Hill.”

  “I'm here, then?” the man asked, looking a bit relieved but still nervous. “I've been trying approach people to ask, but they're all looking at me like I'm a rattlesnake coiled to bite so I've kept my distance. Not a very friendly place.”

  Matt looked pointedly at the man's hand still on the revolver. “Funny thing. You see a strange man skulking up the street, clutching a pistol and looking like he'll lose it and start shooting passersby at a sneeze, and it might make people antsy.”

  The newcomer glanced down at his hand, then flushed and snatched it away, tucking it into his pocket. “It would, I guess,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. There's just so many-” he cut off and lowered his voice. “That is, everyone here is armed.”

  “With good reason, given everything that's happened,” Matt replied. “Don't you think?”

  “Absolutely. It's just in the refugee camps you didn't see many weapons. And before the Gulf burned, a town full of people carrying openly would've been blasted in the media as a bunch of nutjobs. I suppose my mind's stuck in old patterns.” A brief look of pain crossed the man's features. “Not to mention I've got my own reasons to be antsy around armed strangers, given everything that's happened.”

  “Sure. But I'd say you'll never be safer than in a town full of good people, most of them armed and ready to defend themselves.” Matt held out his hand. “Matt Larson, Mayor.” It still felt weird to call himself that.

  “Mayor, eh? Quite the welcome wagon.” The man removed his hand from his pocket and shook firmly, his nervousness rapidly fading and replaced by a determined look. “Thomas Lincoln.”

  Matt hadn't expected to know the stranger, so the name made him jump slightly; not only did he know the man, but he'd been expecting him. “Trent's dad!” he said, his smile warming as his handshake became more enthusiastic. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  Thomas looked relieved. “You know my son, then. Were you with him fighting the blockheads?”

  “Briefly, before I was called back up to help in Aspen Hill. He was in the squad led by my friend Trevor Smith at another location, so I didn't have many chances to talk to him. But from what I've been told he was one of the more dependable and competent men on the squad, and everything I've seen of him since he moved here has proven that.”

  The man looked pleased at the praise. “He sent word to our family in the camps, told us Aspen Hill was willing to welcome us in. He was going to stay here and start building a home for us when he arrived, although he told us to send for him if we thought we needed his help making the trip.”

  Matt's smile widened. “Well speaking as the man who extended that invitation, you certainly are welcome.” He turned and pointed down the street. “See that log cabin going up at the end? Your son wanted you all to have a proper home, more than a stick-and-mud dugout. We're all a bit busy at the moment, but we've been helping him when we find the time.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  The older man sounded sincere, but Matt couldn't help but feel the weight of a half-finished cabin with a family ready to move in. He shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Since you're here already I'll try to gather some men who can find the time sooner, rather than later.”

  “That would be a great kindness.” Thomas glanced back at the western ridge overlooking the valley. “I left my family behind, just so I could check this place out and make sure it was where we were going.” He looked a bit sheepish himself as he smiled good-naturedly. “And not full of nutjobs.”

  Matt laughed. “Go get them while I run and tell Trent the good news. He'll want to meet you coming in.”

  The older man nodded and hurried back down the trail, edging warily around Deb at its junction to the road. The woman eyed him with equal wariness as he passed. Shaking his head, Matt started down the road for the Lincolns' half finished cabin.

  He was so preoccupied with the good news for Trent that he barely noticed the medium height, solidly built man approaching until he stepped in front of him. “Hey Matt. Got a minute?”

  “Of course!” Matt said, grinning and clapping his friend on the shoulder. He'd been so busy with his duties to the town that he'd barely seen the man. “How've you been since you got back, Raul?”

  Gutierrez grimaced. “Could be better, actually. I've slept in my tent the entire time. All the other volunteers had friends and family to take them in, and Trev even made sure the freed prisoners had a place to stay. Nobody's given me anything to do, so I've just been helping out where I can.”

  This news filled Matt with genuine dismay. However busy being Mayor kept him, that was no excuse for forgetting friends. Especially someone he and everyone else in town owed a huge debt to.

  Raul Gutierrez had been with the squad under FETF Administrator Riley Ferris shortly after the Gulf burned last fall, when the relief organization's representative had come to take over management of Aspen Hill. The young soldier had left with Ferris about a month later, only to come back next spring with the former administrator and a much larger group of well armed men, who'd turned to banditry over the winter.

  Led by his conscience, Gutierrez had defected from the raiders almost immediately after their arrival and asked Aspen Hill to take him in. Matt had supported the idea, in spite of a lot of doubt from townspeople and defenders, and at his insistence they'd given the former soldier a chance to prove himself.

  And Gutierrez had. First against the brutal raiders he'd deserted then fought, then against the blockheads when Aspen Hill sent volunteers south to help the military, and in every other way the town needed him.

  “Why didn't you come to me?” Matt demanded. “You would've been welcome with my family until we could find a more permanent arrangement.”

  His friend grimaced. “Your family's already more than overcrowded, and so is everyone else I would've thought to ask. As for coming to you, the few times I've seen you you've been running around like a chicken with your head cut off, more things to do than you have hours in the day to do them. Besides, I didn't want to ask you in your capacity as Mayor and risk you being accused of favoritism.”

  “Favoritism nothing,” Matt snapped. “You risked your life for this town, the least we could do is put a roof over your head.” He took the man by the shoulder and started leading him between houses towards the large tent that served as town hall, a temporary detour before settling in the newly arrived Lincolns. “Come on, let's put you on the list of people needing a house.”

  Gutierrez jerked to a halt, expression frustrated. “I'm already on that list, man! At the very, very end of it. Last in line.”

  Matt shook his head. “That doesn't sound right.”

  “It's the protocol you and former Mayor Tillman set up. Houses are given out to those who need them most in descending order. Orphaned children first, then widows with children, then groups of widows, then single women without families, and so on.” His friend gave him a slightly bitter smile. “All the way down to young, healthy former soldiers with the skills to provide for themselves and decent supplies.”

  That, unfortunately, sounded about right. “Well we'll find someone to take you in,” Matt insisted, reaching for the man's shoulder again. “Come on.”

  Gutierrez refused to budge. “That's not why I'm here. I've already planned out my own house and started work on it. I know you're busy, but I just wondered if I could get your help for a few hours to do the stuff I can't do alone.”

  Matt winced. A personal favor was almost more awkward than if Gutierrez had asked the town. “Oh. I'd love to help if you'll give me a few days. Right now me and a few others are spending every moment of our spare time helping Trent Lincoln build his house.”

  His friend's face went carefully blank. “Trent.”

  The complete lack of accusation made Matt hunch his shoulders defensively. “He called for his family to come here from the refugee camps. Actually I was just on my way to tell him that they've arrived, and we still need to get a roof over their heads
.”

  Gutierrez's bitter expression faded. He almost looked . . . defeated. “I get it,” he said heavily. “I'm alone, and I can help myself, so I'll obviously never qualify for help from the town. Or from my friends.” He turned and quickly strode away, calling over his shoulder. “I'll figure it out on my own.”

  “Raul!” Matt said in frustration, starting after his friend.

  The former soldier seemed to sense it. He turned sharply and held out a hand. “Don't worry about it! You're the Mayor, you've got plenty of important stuff to do. I get it.”

  Matt swore as the man disappeared down the street. It was just a few hours, to patch a rift of neglect he hadn't even realized was there. Why hadn't Gutierrez just said something instead of throwing a hissy fit?

  Maybe because he'd already tried every other option, and when he finally tried coming to his friends for help Matt had practically treated him like a mooch. Guilt ate away most of his anger, and with renewed determination he made his way over to where the Lincolns' house was going up.

  He'd sort things out with Gutierrez, but first things first.

  Trent was hard at work as usual. With Lewis and Trev, the two who usually helped, gone to their hideout he was focusing on doing tasks he could handle on his own, preparing for when more help was available so he didn't waste their time. Matt imagined Gutierrez had done the same.

  As Matt approached the former volunteer finished notching the log he was working on and set aside his axe, sweat streaming down his face in spite of the cool post-rain air. “Just in time,” he said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “I've got a few that can go up before I head out to chop down more trees.” He pointed to a small pile of notched logs ready to be fitted into place in the cabin's walls.

  “Save that,” Matt said, managing a grin in spite of his worries about his other friend. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

  “After all the help you've given me?” Trent immediately went to retrieve his gun belt, starting to settle his MP-443 Grach on his hip, but Matt waved him off.