Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  That realization helped replace his guilt with outrage. “A lot of the people we took in have families!” he snapped. “We already have taken in more mouths to feed than people who have specific skills to offer the town, as part of our deal with them. We've been more than generous.”

  For a few moments the officer simply breathed in and out, controlling his anger. “I'm appealing to Aspen Hill's better nature here, Mayor Larson. If you won't do it out of decency we might have to find other motivations for you.”

  Matt's blood chilled. “Is that a threat?”

  “If you want to consider it that.” Rogers turned and started for his vehicle. “Seriously consider it. I want the right answer when I come back. We all need to sacrifice for the good of the nation.”

  “Major Rogers!” Matt called after the man. Rogers paused. “I always thought that someone who asks others to make sacrifices for the greater good that they themselves aren't willing to make is pretty despicable. But even more despicable is someone who forces other people to make those sacrifices.”

  The major flinched as if slapped, then his jaw tightened. “I'll give you a week, Mayor. As I understand it you've poached 22 people from my camp. Taking in 220 more shouldn't be too great a strain on your town.”

  Matt couldn't believe the man could blithely say that. 220 more mouths to feed could end up being twice that many who didn't survive the winter because of insufficient food if they tried to stretch what they had. Besides, that number didn't include the families of those they'd already taken in. “Don't waste your time, Major. The answer will be the same when you come back.”

  “It better not be.” Rogers gave the assembled leaders and townspeople a warning look. “I would think carefully about this, before you let this man steer you into trouble you're not prepared to deal with.”

  His words were met with frosty silence, which didn't seem to bother the major as he settled down in the backseat of the jeep and his escort hopped in and started the vehicle, tearing them off up the road in the direction of their camp.

  A man who truly believed in the rightness of what he was doing. Another Ferris in the making, as far as Matt was concerned. And like everything else the man was wrong about, he had no idea what Aspen Hill's people were prepared to deal with.

  Chapter Eight

  Honor

  “Well first off,” Catherine said firmly, “one of the biggest mistakes we made with Ferris was assuming everything he did was sanctioned. We never contacted his superiors in Price to confirm his decisions, or protest them for that matter.”

  Chauncey nodded. “I'll get on the radio asking around to try to see just how many of his threats Rogers is capable of carrying out, as well as if it's even any of his business how the rations are distributed and where refugees are sent outside his camp.”

  “That's a good start,” Matt said. The town's leaders had adjourned to the town hall tent to discuss the problem of the major and his ultimatum. “But it doesn't answer the question of what we do when he comes back.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled. “220 people would be crippling for us, but not impossible,” Lucas said. “It might be better to absorb the hit if it will prevent problems with the military. They have more force to bring to bear than we do.”

  That was the understatement of the century.

  “Half our people are already looking at starvation before winter's through,” Catherine snapped. “Do you want to bring in hundreds more when it's your wife or daughter who might be starving to accommodate a bunch of useless eaters?”

  Ben bristled. “That's a bit harsh, don't you think?”

  “No, I don't,” the former mayor responded. “Because you know Rogers will fob his biggest problems off on us. Young children, women who have no skills and are likely troublemakers to boot.” She glanced around and caught the uncomfortable looks. “And don't pretend I'm wrong, just because it's awful to think of the plight of widows and orphans. We've got our own to deal with.”

  Matt held up his hands to calm the chaos that was about to break out. “I guess it all depends on what Rogers can do to us,” he said reasonably. “In the meantime we should prepare for the worst. Thoughts?”

  Trev nodded. “I'll put the defenders on high alert. Rogers might not expect us to be able to mobilize a full quarter of our people as a reasonably competent fighting force if the need arises. If he's acting on his own we might be able to handle whatever soldiers he's got under his command, if it comes to it.”

  “And we should redouble our efforts gathering food, just in case,” Ben added. “It might be we can work our way out of this problem through sheer elbow grease and ingenuity.”

  Matt wasn't sure about that. As far as he knew everyone in town was already scrambling nonstop to gather every scrap of food in the area and preserve it for the coming winter. They couldn't do more than their best, which most were already doing. He glanced over at the nook where they kept the radio gear. “Chauncey?”

  The retired teacher shook his head. “It's not looking good. We're in Rogers's area, and the refugee camp coordinators have a tremendous amount of authority with very little oversight. Too much of the military's attention is focused on the continuing war with the Gold Bloc back east.”

  To be honest Matt hadn't been expecting good news on that front. For as much good as they'd done the military wasn't perfect, and at the moment their word was law. There wasn't any civilian authority to keep them in check, and it was only their sense of patriotism and decency that held them back from whatever they wanted to do. Unfortunately it looked as if Aspen Hill's current problem came from a man who believed he was acting in the finest tradition of both.

  “Again,” he said heavily. “What do we do when he comes back?”

  “Take them in,” Scott said immediately. “I'd rather take the hit, no matter how bad it is, than risk armed conflict that might get just as many people killed.”

  Catherine gave her husband an impatient look. “We need to turn them away. I'm not willing to lose even one of ours to starvation because of some bureaucrat's power trip.”

  Trev wasn't helpful. “Whatever we decide, the defenders will be up for it,” he promised.

  There was a short pause. “There is one thing to consider,” Lewis finally said. Matt noticed with interest that even though his friend had stepped away from any authority in the town, he still got everyone's immediate attention when he spoke up. “Rogers might not be as reasonable with his terms when he comes back. What if he considers the veterans we took in as poached as well, and demands we take in 500 people? Or what if he tries to take back the surplus food we were given?”

  Either of those things would be a disaster, even beyond what they were already looking at. Matt grimaced. “Are we going to reach a consensus on this, one way or another?” he demanded. The awkward silence seemed answer enough. “Fine. Then for now we plan to refuse Rogers's terms and see what he says when he comes back, and before then see whether we can convince his superiors to call him off.”

  He turned to Trev. “Make sure our defenders are ready.” His friend nodded, and he turned to Ben. “Let's redouble our scavenging efforts. We don't have food to offer, but maybe he'll be interested in some other trade goods we can stand to part with if it'll make this all go away.”

  The older man looked doubtful. “He didn't seem like the type to leave with a sackful of gold watches.”

  “Better than the food we need to stay alive.” Matt nodded to his friends. “I'm sure you have scavenging expeditions planned.”

  Lewis nodded, although he also looked doubtful. “There's definitely things we can pick up,” he agreed. “I doubt any of them will help in this situation, though.”

  With any decision basically made until they knew more or something else happened the meeting broke up. As everyone either drifted towards the exit or gathered in smaller groups Matt overheard the cousins talking.

  “Now might be a good time to go after the reloading equipment I've made an offer
on,” Lewis said in a low voice. “Before we're potentially cut off from the outside world, possibly until winter.”

  “I'm not sure I can break away, especially when I'll need to keep my people on high alert,” Trev replied.

  “No, I wasn't expecting you to. I'll go with Jane, maybe Gutierrez if he's interested. I just wanted you to know where we are.”

  “You're not going into Rogers's camp for this, are you?” Matt cut in. “That's probably not a good idea.”

  Lewis gave him an amused look. “No, I'm not nearly that crazy. It's a place much farther west, almost to Sanpete Valley. Probably still a trip we can make in one day, depending on how things go. And don't worry, we'll steer well clear of the Major's camp.”

  Matt nodded and put them out of his mind. He had plenty of his own issues to worry about, and while Rogers and his demands were the most pressing they were far from the only ones.

  * * * * *

  The place where Lewis had agreed to meet Mr. Gallagher for the trade, going through Chauncey on the radio, wasn't exactly a refugee camp.

  It had started out as a displaced town, similar to new Aspen Hill. But since it was on a main road it had seen a lot of traffic through it, and eventually the military had begun settling refugees there instead of having them pass through. They'd tried to do so without displacing the current residents, but within a matter of days the few hundred people had been swamped by over a thousand refugees.

  The result wasn't pretty. Whatever order the townspeople had tried to impose on their new home had given way to trampled paths meandering between the crude shelters that sprawled in all directions, and a constant haze of dust kicked up by people walking on dirt with no gravel or paving to be seen. That dust coated everyone, leaving them all filthy and defeated looking.

  There was a small military presence there, to assist the chaotic camp as well as keep the road clear and safe for travelers. The few soldiers looked harried, nearly as dusty and bedraggled as the people they watched over in spite of whatever discipline they maintained.

  Rationally Lewis knew that even a few hundred extra people wouldn't immediately create a situation like this for Aspen Hill. But it was a chilling warning of what giving an inch might lead to if Rogers decided he could start dumping his problems on the town.

  Gallagher's residence was on the far end of the camp. Lewis decided it would be better to ride through on the road and then circle around and approach it from the outskirts, rather than trying to go straight through that sprawl. They had their weapons with them, of course, and the soldiers kept a decent presence, but in spite of that the place stank of desperation. He'd brought a considerable amount of food in trade goods with him that might tempt trouble, and he wanted in and out as quickly as possible.

  Jane and Gutierrez followed his lead, not complaining about pushing on to get away from this place in spite of the hard bike ride they'd just had. Gutierrez was a bit more obvious in his wariness than the rest of them, often riding one-handed to rest his other hand on his sidearm when they passed a potential threat.

  Lewis was glad the former soldier had agreed to come along for the ride, now that his simple cabin was completed and he could spare time from gathering food and firewood. Since Gutierrez lived alone and was often away on patrol for Trev he'd put his food in the town storehouse where it could be guarded full time, free of charge thanks to his service to the town. He had a neighbor keep an eye on his cabin and the firewood stored beside it, which might be a target for theft but not as much as food would be. As for the rest of his possessions, he brought them along wherever he went or stored them with his food.

  Beyond giving Gutierrez a chance to feel like a part of things, it gave Lewis a chance to get to know him better. In spite of all the fighting side by side they'd done they both tended to be somewhat of loners, in Gutierrez's case maybe not so much by choice as due to how he'd come to be in town. Either way, if the former soldier was interested in Mary then Lewis wanted to feel out his intentions a bit.

  It wasn't an issue of trust, exactly. Maybe a bit of brotherly overprotectiveness.

  Gallagher lived in a crude but carefully built shack along the border where the besieged town ended and the refugee camp began. The man was older, late 40s or early 50s, balding and with the sagging flesh of someone who'd been overweight before an extreme apocalyptic weight loss program.

  He had an extensive set of reloading tools to trade, including equipment for all the most common calibers and a few esoteric ones, as well as custom work. He even had a small supply of bullets in several calibers and the lead and jacketing material to make more, as well as his own modest supply of shell casings that Lewis didn't intend to buy, since he had plenty of his own.

  No smokeless powder or primers though, unfortunately; Gallagher had used all of his making rounds to trade for food, before his situation became so desperate he was forced to trade the tools themselves. Lewis felt a bit bad to be the one benefitting from that misfortune, but he'd offered a good deal under the circumstances.

  In this case that deal was three months of food for an adult male. Assuming the older man also had his six months from the military, it meant he had enough food to last the winter and then some. Judging by the arsenal Gallagher displayed as he showed them the tools, including a .308 slung over his shoulder, a hefty .50 cal pistol at his hip, and possible evidence of another concealed pistol in a smaller caliber, he wouldn't have problems either defending what was his or hunting for more food to keep him going.

  “It's a shame to lose all this,” Gallagher said as Lewis looked his equipment over, going on information he'd read and the few reloading videos he'd watched from his hard drives to make his appraisal. From what he could see it was all well used but also lovingly cared for, in good condition under the circumstances. “I'd keep it if I could, hope to get by with whatever cartridges I could make, but I've looked everywhere and can't find powder or primers for love or money. I need the food more at this point.”

  Interesting. Either the man hadn't gotten six months from the military or he was responsible for providing for more than just himself. Either way Lewis could empathize with the food woes; losing three months from his stores would put a tremendous amount of pressure on him to provide for Jane, Mary, and his parents, even with the military's windfall. But he thought he could manage it, and he'd endure a temporary crunch for the chance at future prosperity.

  This opportunity was too good to pass up.

  The man was a talker, or maybe he was just keeping his mouth going to ease the sting of losing what had obviously been prized tools of a beloved hobby. “Not that it affects the deal one way or another, but I'd be interested to know if you've managed to solve that problem for yourself.”

  “No,” Lewis admitted. “I'm drawing a blank on those things too. But I figure it's better to have some of what I need rather than none.”

  “If you say so,” Gallagher said, scratching at his gray fringe of hair. “Without it all you might as well have nothing. Believe me, I know.”

  Lewis just shrugged and led the man over to his bike trailer, giving him a chance to look over the food he'd be getting. He'd thought of bringing more than three months, in case Gallagher decided he didn't like some specific item and demanded a replacement. But on the other hand there was the risk the man would up his price and ask for everything, which outweighed the chance he might walk away from the deal because he'd turned his nose up at something.

  It sounded a bit heartless, but Lewis wouldn't be overly concerned if the other party was slightly unsatisfied by what he'd gotten. He'd carefully counted calories to make sure this was exactly three months, so he'd kept his end of the deal. And he hadn't used it as an opportunity to fob off all the unhealthy processed junk they'd gotten from the military, either; it was a decent variety, even some of his preserved venison jerky.

  That worry proved groundless, however. Gallagher seemed content with the items on offer, and after a handshake to seal the deal they all got to
work swapping the trade goods. In fact, the man proved a decent sort and seemed happy to share a lifetime of knowledge from his reloading hobby. Lewis listened intently, and although they were looking at a long ride home he even prevailed on the man to join him, Jane, and Gutierrez for dinner to continue the instruction.

  In a way it was a shame they couldn't offer the man a place in Aspen Hill the way they'd invited in other skilled experts. Even though it had meant he'd be facing competition to his own planned business Lewis had actually included a reloading expert on his list of recommended people. The town had ultimately turned the suggestion down as not necessary for immediate survival, not to mention they hadn't found Gallagher at that point and no one else really fit the bill.

  Still, he felt good about the day's efforts as the three of them offered the older man a final round of handshakes, then rode away with a trailer full of tools and reloading supplies and heads full of imparted wisdom.

  He just hoped whatever happened with Rogers wouldn't make today's work pointless. They'd see in six days, or closer to five since today was nearly over. It was hard to say whether that was not nearly long enough or an eternity.

  * * * * *

  It wasn't a pleasant week for Matt.

  Chauncey had no good news for him about Rogers. The man had apparently spent most of his career running logistics in military bases on US soil, with very little combat experience. Even during the recent fight against the blockheads his role had been managing refugees, not leading troops against the enemy. A pencil pusher.

  As Catherine put it, a bureaucrat was a bureaucrat no matter which organization they worked for. Generally by the book to the point of being anal retentive, puffing themselves up with petty authority, and often their main source of influence was their ability to put stumbling blocks in the way of people trying to get things done until they got their way on an issue.

  From the sound of things Rogers talked a good game and had a decent reputation, but the state of his camp told a different story. The refugees Aspen Hill had taken in had stories to tell of worsening conditions there, and Chauncey provided more scuttlebutt from other sources. Even a few of the veterans who'd joined the town had heard of him, and most of what they'd heard wasn't great.