by Nathan Jones
Trev winced, thinking of the rescued prisoners in the Aspen Hill squads he'd brought back with him, as well as the Lincolns he'd pushed hard for the town to take in. All hardworking and dependable people, and hopefully they'd be valuable in building the community. But were the extra mouths going to dig into everyone else's rations?
Matt glanced at him, seemingly thinking along the same lines. “We had 816 at last count,” he said.
“Then lucky for you, you seem to have friends who think you're due a favor.” Bryant gestured. “Your town was allocated rations for 900 people. I suppose the surplus is the town's to use however you think is best.”
Trev jerked slightly in surprise when he found Deb's hand in his, briefly squeezing hard as she grinned at him in jubilation before letting go. He grinned back, and around him the leaders of Aspen Hill were quietly celebrating.
Then Bryant's expression grew slightly grim. “The bad news is that we're talking rations for 6 months per person. Our most pessimistic projections predict this winter could last as many as 7 or even 8. Especially up in these mountains, even in a lower elevation valley like this one. And even if you survive the winter you still have to last through the spring until you can start bringing in more food with crops or other means. So whatever preparations you're making, I'd keep making them.”
That sobered the mood a bit. Although even thoughts of the ordeal ahead couldn't completely dampen the news of 6 months of food for 900 people. That was more than any of them could ever have hoped for. It might mean the difference between only losing a handful of people as opposed to half the town, as many had feared. Especially after the hundreds of deaths Aspen Hill had suffered last winter.
“Not bad news,” Matt said with a smile. “Just less good, I guess. But still an unbelievable godsend.” He motioned back to town. “Should we get started? For now we can store the food in the town hall tent and the cabin we're using for our clinic.”
The corporal nodded and trotted back to his trucks, which at his approach started up with the roar of dozens of engines. Matt immediately sprang into motion, sending Trev, Deb, and Lucas to escort the trucks while he and the other town leaders rushed back to Aspen Hill to gather volunteers to help with the unloading.
Food for 900 for 6 months represented hundreds of thousands of pounds of supplies. Getting it off the trucks and safely stored, both against weather and against potential thieves, was a daunting task. But daunting in a good way, Trev had to say.
He led his uncle and Deb to the side of the trail and waved Bryant on. As the lead vehicle in the convoy passed he was invited to hop on the passenger's step to ride along, while Lucas took the spot on the driver's step. Deb was invited to take the window passenger's seat while the corporal scooted to the middle, but at the prospect of being squeezed in beside an unfamiliar soldier, even one who seemed friendly, she opted to squeeze in behind Trev on the step instead.
Bryant gave Trev a questioning look, and he shook his head to indicate not to make an issue of it. The brown-haired woman had plenty of reasons to be wary of men in uniform, although certainly not from their own side. Still, blockhead or US Armed Forces, combat fatigues looked like combat fatigues.
Out of respect for the town leaders still hurrying to get to town, the convoy traveled at a snail's pace a modest distance behind. Bryant sheepishly admitted that with a bit of foresight they would've just made room for everyone on the trucks, but that would've actually taken more time and anyway it was too late now.
To pass the time, through the window Trev quizzed the corporal on the status of the refugee camp he'd come from, which was farther south and west of the mountains in Sanpete County. It was a large one, over twenty thousand people, and the logistics were a complete nightmare, especially with fuel running low. They'd been told to prepare to be completely isolated from the command structure and the rest of the camps when winter arrived, if not sooner. That meant they had to start thinking ahead to any problems, since they couldn't count on help.
Trev could sympathize, since Aspen Hill had basically been in that situation from the beginning. Aside from the “help” Ferris had brought, of course.
“It's pretty amazing of you to be out going around giving aid when your own situation is that uncertain,” Trev admitted. “And without expecting anything in return.”
Bryant hesitated. “Ah, there is one other thing,” he said soberly. There was a resigned quality to his tone, as if he was about to beat his head against a brick wall. “Officially I can't ask, just inform you of the situation. Actually the higher ups don't even really want that, but since they can't offer a better solution we're doing the best we can.”
Trev wondered if this was the shoe they'd been waiting to drop. He bit back a sigh. “Go ahead.”
The corporal shifted in his seat. “You were there, you saw how brutal the fighting was. I don't know if any of your people were seriously injured, but without modern medical care a lot of even the simplest wounds became a big problem for our soldiers. My brothers and sisters in arms, people fighting to defend your homes and families.”
“We were fortunate there,” Trev agreed, wondering where this was going. “But I understand well enough. During a fight against raiders last spring one of our people lost a leg.”
Bryant nodded. “He's in good company. There are thousands of soldiers who suffered amputations, minor or major, or who are still in recovery from serious wounds. These are brave men, as well as a few equally brave women, who risked their lives protecting you and lost a lot for it. They did their duty without complaint, they don't deserve to be tossed aside.”
Ah. Trev should've realized that's what the man was aiming at. At the same time he didn't have much of a problem with what Bryant was indirectly asking.
It would be the height of ingratitude to abandon everyone injured fighting the blockheads now that the threat had retreated. He thought he actually preferred the idea of aiding veterans to that of bringing in refugees who had no skills to offer the town, even if the veterans' injuries left them equally helpless.
Unfortunately he couldn't speak for Aspen Hill. He led the town's defenses, but when it came to organizing aid or taking in new people that was Matt's call.
“I would be fine with welcoming in some crippled and wounded soldiers,” he began. The corporal brightened hopefully and Trev felt terrible. “Unfortunately this is something I have to bring up with the Mayor, and he'll probably have to put it to rest of the town. Is there a rush?”
Bryant shook his head in resignation. “We're trying to find a long term solution for our people. A small delay isn't a problem.” But from his tone he clearly seemed to think “wait and see” was just a polite “no”.
Trev wanted to reassure him, but honestly the soldier might be right there. He resolved to hash it out with Matt while they were unloading the supplies and try to get the corporal a better answer than “maybe” by the time he left.
The next few hours were a confusion of activity as townspeople rushed to clear space for the supplies the soldiers began unloading from the trucks. Those supplies came in the form of a several bundles of coats, hats, socks, and gloves, only enough for a hundred people at most. That lack of cold weather gear was made up for by an endless line of plastic-wrapped pallets and cardboard boxes full of nonperishable foodstuffs, anything from cereals to jerky to cans of mixed nuts to candy and soda. There were also plenty of instant drink powders and baking mixes.
It looked as if a holding warehouse for a major store chain had been emptied. Not the healthiest food, Trev was dismayed to see, but the sight of the familiar processed foods he'd loved before the world ended set his mouth watering, even if some of them were probably a bit stale by now. Great for a party even so, but he was glad the family had their animals and were preserving a good portion of the meat they hunted, as well as preserving anything they foraged that could be stored for any period of time.
At least a healthy chunk of the supplies came in the form of a wide assortment
of canned food, rice, beans, and other uncooked grains and legumes. The sort of stuff he'd loaded into his cart way back on that first day after the Gulf burned, as part of the rush to get what he could from the nearest store before its shelves were emptied by other people similarly thinking ahead.
And along with the bags of wheat and sugar he also saw huge sacks of salt, which were a prize in and of themselves. Salt had so many vital uses that it had often been used as currency in ancient times, and the town always needed more. In fact, he was surprised the military had provided it in such large amounts.
Then again they'd been generous with everything: whatever most of the food lacked in quality, it more than made up for it in quantity. Many hands may have made light work, but there was still a whole lot of it to do emptying the trucks.
Luckily there was no shortage of volunteers, overjoyed townspeople who couldn't jump to the task fast enough. Trev didn't even catch anyone trying to make off with whatever they could hide beneath their clothes or sneak away with unnoticed. He liked to think that was the quality of his friends and neighbors, rather than the armed and vigilant soldiers swarming the area along with his own defenders acting as a deterrent to theft.
During that time he got a chance to talk with Matt about taking in veterans. His friend seemed a bit hesitant, obviously thinking of the mouths to feed, although he certainly was willing to do what he could. But, like Trev, he deferred such an important decision until it was discussed by the town's leaders. Trev hoped that having the Mayor on board would improve their chances, but he still had return to Bryant and let him know the answer was still a “maybe”.
It was late afternoon before the soldiers unloading the trucks finally saw the back walls, signaling an end to the seemingly inexhaustible store of supplies the military had brought. There were mingled cheers and groans at that, cheers for a job nearly finished and groans for the fact that the pallets of food weren't actually infinite.
About that time Lewis and Jane returned, gawking at the hive of activity around the convoy and town buildings as they rode up on their bikes. From the several garbage bags filling his cousin's trailer to overflowing Trev assumed the foraging trip had been a success. He hopped down from the truck he was working in and waved, Deb breaking away from where she'd been standing on the sidelines watching to join him, and the couple veered over to meet them.
“What's going on?” Lewis asked, watching the last of the supplies being loaded.
Trev grinned. “Some good luck, finally. The military found a huge windfall and they're distributing it to everyone. Six months of food per person, along with a few other necessities.”
His cousin whistled in disbelief, exchanging glances with Jane. “And no strings attached?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“No, but . . .?” Lewis asked, looking between him and Deb. Deb just shrugged, leaving Trev to answer.
“But they asked the town to take in a few dozen veterans who were seriously wounded or crippled in the fighting. They'll help out as best they can, but there's no saying how much they'll be able to contribute. The town hasn't decided on it yet.”
Trev expected his pragmatic cousin to take issue with the added burden, but Lewis just nodded. “It might turn out they could be more useful than we expect, if the town agrees to take them in.” He abruptly pointed to a group coming out of the tent. “Is that the leader of the convoy?”
“Yeah,” Trev replied. “Corporal Bryant. He's a fan of yours, actually, since his squad was stationed just south of where we were below Highway 31.” Deb nodded at that.
“Even better.” Grinning, his cousin set his bike's kickstand and hurried over to the soldier, leaving Trev, Deb, and Jane behind.
“What was that about?” Deb asked the redheaded woman.
She shrugged and pointed to the overflowing trailer as she got ready to ride off. “Probably about finding supplies and equipment for his reloading venture.”
“Ah, right.” Trev nodded after Lewis. “Shall we?”
Jane shook her head. “I think I'm going to get all these shell casings back home.” She hopped off her bike, setting it on the trampled grass beside the road, and moved over to her husband's with the attached trailer.
Trev rested a hand on the handlebar. “Want me to ride it back instead so you don't have to leave yours just sitting here?”
“No.” She quickly hopped on the other bike and started off. Trev knew the tall, slender woman well enough not to be offended by her terseness.
From the looks of it Jane didn't have to strain pulling the trailer, since even overloaded like it was it didn't seem very heavy. He supposed that spent brass was fairly light, even in bulk. The question was whether they were valuable in spite of their weight. He supposed they'd find out soon.
Deb gave him an amused look. She'd also been around Jane long enough to know how she was. “I'll take her bike back,” she offered. “I know you've been wanting to be involved in this venture with your cousin. Go on.”
Trev nodded gratefully as she crouched to pick up the abandoned bike, and with a wave as she set off he made his way over to where Lewis was introducing himself to a very enthusiastic Corporal Bryant, who was shaking his hand and giving him a brief description of the fighting farther south of Highway 31.
For a few minutes they shared the highlights of their time down there, then Lewis cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to run something by you,” he said.
The corporal gave him a curious look. “Shoot.”
His cousin grinned. “You're not far off.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shell casing. “I'm trying to get into reloading, but I'm having trouble with some of the supplies.”
Bryant whistled, taking the casing and spinning it on his palm. “Reloading, huh? Not a bad business to get into. I remember seeing just piles of discarded brass at a lot of the positions we held. Sometimes they ended up in the refuse pits, but most of the time they'd just get ground into the dirt. Some of the guys would call the ground around the front fortifications the Golden Carpet.”
Lewis's grin widened. “I know. We visited the front along Highway 6 to see what we could find. Brought back three garbage bags full.”
That prompted another whistle. “So you're set for casings. What's the trouble?”
“Well I've got a few potential prospects for good quality reloading equipment, and I think I can get a handle on materials to make the bullets, too. But where I'm drawing a blank is on the smokeless powder and primers. I'm wondering if the military is the place to look. Maybe demolitions teams?”
The corporal was silent for an uncomfortably long half a minute. “You want me to try to dig into military supplies and provide you with gunpowder,” he finally said.
Lewis looked a bit surprised at his reticence. “Nothing illegal or unethical, of course. I want to go through proper channels. I'm just wondering if you could get me in touch with a quartermaster, or maybe if you're aware of any civilian group that has some available. I might be able to squeak together a finder's fee, or I could promise you a share of the reloaded ammo.”
Bryant's expression cleared, and Trev blinked when he realized the guy had been afraid his cousin was suggesting something illegal. Jeez, had he thought Lewis wanted him to steal the stuff from the military? No wonder he'd been fidgeting like he was being backed into a corner.
“I can't make any promises but I'll look around,” the corporal said. “I like the idea.”
Lewis's grin returned. “Yeah, it's a good way to spend the winter months.”
The soldier was still holding the shell casing. He absently rolled it between thumb and forefinger. “Are you planning on gathering up more of these?”
“I was, actually. Now's the time to do it, and I want to have enough that I never have to run around scrambling to find more. Especially when I can get them for free right now with just a little effort.”
Bryant nodded. “With our troops running low on ammo I can pretty much guarantee the q
uartermasters are thinking of reloading themselves. I'll try to get you the smokeless powder, but in the meantime they might be interested in buying or trading for brass. Assuming they don't put us to work scouring the fronts for them.” He shrugged. “If not then trading some of what you scrounge up might be your ticket to getting powder out of them. I'll look into it.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” Lewis offered his hand, and the corporal gripped it firmly, then moved on to shake Trev's hand as well.
Trev appreciated being included. “Well now that we're done talking about reloading, should we finish up with the unloading?”
Chapter Three
Surplus
“I know, I know,” Matt told Meredith Banks, doing his best to stay patient, “and you're not the first to ask. Believe me, we all want to get our share and take it home so we can start sorting through it and make plans.”
“So why aren't we?” the older woman demanded, completely ignoring the bustle of activity going on around her. The last of the supplies had been unloaded off the trucks and the soldiers were getting ready to head out, looking eager to be done with the job. “Why are you dragging your feet on letting us have what's ours?”
Aside from the fact that we just finished getting it? Matt thought irritably. He couldn't blame her, or the others who'd come with the same question for that matter, for being possessive about food they desperately needed. Still, it irked him a bit that the ones coming around hectoring him about it were usually also the ones who'd stood on the sidelines watching rather than helping out however they could.
Thankfully Catherine came to his rescue, passing by with a clipboard she was using to jot down a list of what they'd received so far. At least as best she could manage; it was a daunting task considering the sheer volume of it.
“We still need to decide just how to evenly divide the supplies, which might take a little time,” she told Mrs. Banks mildly. “You do want to get your fair share, don't you?”