Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  The danger wasn't over then, unfortunately, since some of the bandits had been smart enough to strip the weapons from her fellow defenders rather than chasing her on foot. She could hear the crack of gunfire from behind her, and she added a few zigs and zags as she kept staggering in the direction of Aspen Hill and safety. From training she knew a moving target was incredibly difficult to hit at any range, and she doubted any of those men had serious training with firearms. But at the same time her patrol had been carrying M16s and AK-47s and she could hear the bandits unloading entire magazines at her. She even heard the alarming whine of a few shots passing far too close.

  But finally, practically on her hands and knees for the few final feet, she made it up and over a rise, and with it between her and the shots coming from behind she finally felt safe enough to slow for a moment.

  Sobbing, both from sucking in desperate lungfuls of air as well as from grief for her friends and shock at what she'd just narrowly escaped, she yanked at the radio clipped to her belt until it came free, raising it with a hand shaking so hard she nearly smashed it into her teeth. “Trev, my team's been attacked!”

  * * * * *

  Matt jumped slightly as Trev, who'd been walking along beside him, suddenly made a strangled noise and stumbled over to lean against the nearest house, face ashen as he talked quickly into his headset.

  Whatever his friend was hearing had to be on the defender channel. Matt was currently on the town channel waiting for word from Gutierrez, who'd gone to round up the hunters who kept insisting on going out so he could have a word with them.

  When he shifted channels all he heard on the defender line was a confused babble of panicked voices, Deb's loudest and least coherent among them. Then Trev burst away from the wall he was leaning against and sprinted north out of town, awkwardly unslinging his rifle to hold it as he ran.

  “What's going on?” Matt yelled after him.

  His friend didn't even slow. “Radio!” he shouted over his shoulder, nearly tripping on a buried rock. Even that didn't check his pace, and he was soon a hundred yards away and still sprinting flat out.

  Matt toggled his mic, speaking firmly to cut through the chatter. “Matt here. What's going on?”

  The radio crackled with the static of an incoming transmission, but all Matt heard was heavy breathing. Then Deb sucked in a noisy breath and he realized the brown-haired woman was fighting intense emotions as well as being seriously winded. “My patrol . . . attacked two . . . northwest of town,” she panted, “just past . . . one rise close . . . valley's western ridge. I got away but-but . . .” she trailed off into sobs, finally forcing out a few final words. “I'm the only one. I need help.”

  Considering Trev was currently running off on his own, that left Matt to organize an actual team to counter this threat. Not that he blamed his friend. He swapped over to the town channel. “Gutierrez?” No answer: the man had probably already swapped. Matt switched back to the defender channel. “Gutierrez?”

  “Gathering a team to kill the SOBs who murdered Brandon and the others,” the former soldier replied tersely. “As a start. Find who you can and meet us at the edge of town.”

  Matt turned and ran for the shelter group's cabins. He needed his body armor and other gear, and he'd pick up Terry to check on Deb and April to offer a comforting female presence, as well as Lewis, Jane, and whoever else was handy there.

  Even focusing on his immediate goals wasn't enough to take his mind from the ramifications. Deb was the only one who'd got away, which meant the rest of her patrol had been killed. Four good men, friends, ambushed and murdered while trying to protect their home.

  He could understand why Gutierrez wanted to murder the men who'd killed his friend, and anyone else who got in his way. But as Mayor Matt couldn't afford to lose control of the situation and allow the town to cross the line in retaliation for this atrocity.

  Although those who'd killed his people would see justice.

  * * * * *

  Trev didn't think he'd ever sprinted a mile in better time, and mostly uphill to boot.

  It wasn't rational, since the entire time common sense had been yammering away at the back of his mind that he'd still have another mile to go after he collapsed from exhaustion. That or if he was in good enough shape to make it the entire way he'd be too exhausted to help Deb at the end of it. But he couldn't help himself.

  He hadn't wanted to take a break from seeing Deb because he'd miss her, but just as much he'd worried something like this would happen. Her work volunteering to defend the town wasn't exactly safe, as today's events proved, and one of the main comforts of having her in that role before all this was that he was usually with her.

  Only now he wasn't, when she needed him most.

  His panicked mind had failed to account for the fact that Deb would also be running towards him, so he was just catching his second wind when he crested the western ridge of the valley and saw her not far away. At the sight of him she collapsed in relief, curling up on the ground sobbing.

  As Trev closed the distance to her he searched the area for potential threats. None were visible, but as soon as he reached Deb he still crouched on her northern side to shield her with his body. He really wanted to throw his arms around her, as much at his own relief at seeing she was okay as to reassure her. And from the way she rolled towards him and clung to his shins she probably wanted that reassurance too. Then again, this sort of traumatic event might trigger previous trauma and touching her would be the worst thing he could do.

  “I'm here,” he said as gently as he could through his panting.

  “Thank God,” she mumbled. “The others, Trev. I-I couldn't . . .” her words dissolved into gasping sobs again.

  He shifted to glance around quickly again. They were too exposed here. “I'm going to pick you up and carry you to a spot with more cover. Is that okay?” She nodded emphatically, so he slung his rifle and carefully scooped her into his arms. Her pack made that awkward, and she nearly whacked him in the face with the MP-443 Grach she still held in a white-knuckled grip when he looped her arm around his neck. But finally he got a stable hold on her, and as she buried her face in his chest he pushed to his feet on rubbery legs and looked around.

  There was a dip in the ground that ran through some sage bushes nearby. He quickly made his way over to it and deposited her in the most covered spot he could find. Then he crouched over her and unslung his rifle, using the scope to pan the area as he toggled his headset mic. “I've got Deb safe for now.”

  Matt's voice came back strong with hints of exertion from running. “Good. We'll be there in just a few minutes.”

  Trev looked down at Deb. She'd barely responded to his voice when he'd been talking over the radio. Shock? “Are you hurt?” he asked her in a low, soothing tone.

  She nodded. “He kicked me around a little before I managed to get away. Nothing serious, I think.”

  He felt a flash of rage at that: whoever did that to the woman he cared about would certainly get what was coming to him. But for now he needed to worry about her. Getting her talking might help shake her out of her shock. “How about you holster that?”

  Deb blinked and uncurled slightly, looking at the pistol still clutched in her hand. She managed a weak smile as she fumbled to return it to its concealed holster. “Don't worry, I'm not going to swing it around like a madwoman this time.”

  She was obviously talking about just after he'd rescued her from the blockheads, when she'd come within an inch of shooting Fred Vernon as vengeance for him abandoning Newtown and indirectly causing her situation. Trev relaxed slightly, deciding that if she could manage humor she was probably not in too bad shape.

  “If you're feeling up to it you can tell me what happened,” he said. When she flinched slightly he hastily added. “No need to go into details.”

  Nodding, Deb haltingly related approaching the camp, the argument Brandon had with the four men there which distracted the patrol from the bandits char
ging them from the copse, and how by the time they realized the danger it was too late. She skimmed over her own escape, which he didn't blame her for.

  “The man you talked to at the fire was bruised?” Trev asked partway through.

  The brown-haired woman started to nod, then froze as realization dawned in her eyes. “The refugee you headbutted!” Her face crumpled in guilt and anguish. “So he was shoot on sight. I thought the bruise was important but I couldn't remember why. If I'd just remembered I could've warned the others. They'd still be alive. It's all my fault.”

  “It's nobody's fault but the men who did this,” Trev said firmly. “Although it can be a good lesson about paying attention to important details. Keep going.”

  By the time she finished her account Matt, Dr. Langstrom, Terry, April, Lewis, Jane, Gutierrez, Rick, Lucas, and more than a dozen others had arrived. At Deb's direction Gutierrez led most to the rise overlooking the ambush spot so they could investigate the scene, along with Langstrom to check on the other members of the patrol and see if there was anything he could do for them. Although nobody had much hope there.

  Meanwhile Matt, Terry, April, Lewis, Jane, and Lucas stayed behind to check on Deb. At least until April insisted they should give her and her husband some space and not crowd the poor woman.

  Trev reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled aside to briefly repeat Deb's account of the situation. By the end of it his friends were seething as much as he was. “I'd like to take Deb home and make sure she's okay,” he finished. “Can you handle things here?”

  Matt nodded. “We've got it,” he said with a gesture to the others. Lewis and Lucas both gave Trev a reassuring squeeze on the arm, then the group followed Matt towards the rise and what lay beyond.

  Not long after that April motioned to him, and Trev hesitantly made his way over. “How is she?”

  Terry ran a hand through his reddish-blond hair. “She's going to have some wicked bruises, and moving around might be painful for a few days. Nothing rest and regular careful stretching can't fix.” The doctor stood and nodded to his wife. “We should probably go help Garret check on the rest of the patrol, although from the sound of things there won't be any good news there.”

  Trev didn't envy his friend that task. “Check with the others that it's safe before going over the rise, just to be careful. We don't want to lose half the town's medical staff.”

  “Will do.” Terry crouched to say a few final quiet words to Deb, and April gave the brown-haired woman a hug. Then the two hurried off towards the ambush site.

  After a brief pause watching them go Trev tentatively sat down beside Deb. To his relief rather than having a problem with it she reached out and took his hand, holding it tight. He was happy to share that contact. “You have no idea how scared I was for you,” he said quietly.

  She gave him a wan smile. “I could see. Did you sprint the entire way here?”

  “Pretty much.” They sat for about a minute, decompressing from what had just happened. Then, wondering if he was making a mistake and half sure he'd picked a bad time for it, Trev took a breath and plunged in. “I'm sick of not being able to see you. I feel like I failed you today. If you're sick of being apart too then I'd say it's been long enough, right?”

  Deb made a face. “Way past being sick of it. I think I've sorted out my issues enough to risk hanging out with my favorite person.” Her eyes flicked to the north. “Of course then all this happened. I promise I'll try not to let it make me cuckoo, but . . .” She sighed. “At least I was able to defend myself and get away this time.”

  Trev squeezed her hand gently. “Let's get you back to town. You need to get some rest in a quiet, safe place, and I'll be nearby in case you need me.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I thought you weren't supposed to enable my dependencies.”

  Trev snorted. “Screw that. After what just happened I need to be close to you to reassure myself you're okay.”

  “But my patrol, the men who did this,” she protested feebly. “You need to lead the defenders.”

  “I already talked to Matt. He doesn't mind if I call off this time for personal reasons. I want those who hurt you to get what's coming to them, but you're my first priority.”

  “Okay.” She hesitated, then continued in a small voice. “If we're starting our relationship again we'll still need to take it slow when it comes to, um, intimacy.”

  Of course. Her problems hadn't just gone away after a few weeks apart, and what'd happened today probably wouldn't make things any easier. The last thing he wanted was for their relationship to be marred by trauma from her past because he'd been too impatient.

  “We'll take it as slow as you need,” he assured her.

  Deb gave him a weak but sincere smile. “Then can I finally start calling you my boyfriend?”

  He laughed quietly. “I guess it's past time for that huh, girlfriend?”

  She made another face. “Ugh, you sound like a teenage bestie. You don't say it to your actual girlfriend, she already knows.” She squeezed his hand back. “Although I wouldn't mind being introduced that way.

  Right. Trev was just glad he'd managed to get her mind off what she'd just gone through. “If you're okay to walk we can leave any time. I'm sure you're ready to crash for the night.”

  “You have no idea.” She pushed to her feet, legs still wobbly. She'd taken off her backpack for Terry's examination, and as she stooped to pick it up Trev held out his hand in a silent offer to carry it. She handed it over without even token protest, obviously more exhausted and shaken than she let on.

  “Your room is finished, right?” she asked as they started off.

  Trev blinked. The only reason she'd be asking that was . . . well obviously she didn't mean it like that, but even if she was just looking for a safe, quiet place to spend the night it was still unexpected. “Yeah. It's got a few last finishing touches to go, but I've already moved in so it has a bed, and I redirected the stovepipe to run through it for heating. It'll probably be more comfortable and quiet than a house full of other women and kids.”

  Deb nodded. “Yeah, if you don't mind me crashing there. I can grab one of your spare cots or something, and I'd rest a lot easier there without the noise. Although-” she cut off, blushing slightly. “Although that's not the only reason I'd rest easier there.”

  Well if that didn't boost a guy's confidence, knowing he made his girlfriend feel safe. “Sure,” he said. “But you should take my bed if you want. I can set up a cot in the main room near the door in case you need me.”

  Trev really hoped she'd agree, since he wouldn't feel quite right making her sleep on a cot. One of the projects his dad, mom, Linda, and Jim had been involved with over the last few weeks was making proper bed frames and sewing canvas and other cloth together for straw tick mattresses for everyone in the family. The beds were crinkly and often scratchy when some grass poked through, but they were also more roomy and way more comfortable than the simple cots.

  “I wouldn't want you to kick you out of your bed,” she protested. Then she hesitated. “Although I'll admit I could use a good night's sleep. It would help if you'd bring a cot and sleep in the room, though, so I know you're there.”

  Trev grinned. “Sure. After crowding in with my family for so long it's been a bit lonely without a roommate. And you can trust me to be a perfect gentleman.”

  Deb gave him a long, serious look. “I know I can trust you,” she said quietly. “And it means more than you know.”

  He couldn't think of a response to that other than to nod resolutely. He'd be there for her so she could get the rest she needed, and anything else to help her get over this newest trauma.

  And if his parents had an issue with them spending time together again he'd tell them he and Deb were now officially dating, and if they had something against him hanging out with his girlfriend they could pound sand.

  He'd say it more politely than that, of course.

  Chapter Thirteen


  Justice

  These monsters.

  Matt had fought Razor's gang, he'd fought Turner's raiders, and he'd fought the blockheads. He'd watched Williams and his men hung up to die painfully. He'd seen plenty of violence, and more death than he ever wanted.

  But most of that had been with guns. Bullet wounds could be ugly, especially if they hit in certain places, but that ugliness was usually hidden before it was time for the bodies to be viewed. The closest he'd seen to this level of brutality was a man getting beat long past the point of death in Midvale, when he and Trev went to find April and her family. Although that had been in poor light which was a small blessing.

  There'd be no hiding this from grieving loved ones. Brandon's patrol hadn't been killed by firearms but by blunt objects and blades, their murderers rushing them en masse and falling on the group with shocking brutality. And there were even hints they might have kept going after their victims were dead. Not even the goriest movie Matt had ever seen could prepare him for the horrific sight.

  He'd seen plenty of fighting, plenty of death. He turned away and puked his guts out after only half a minute of taking in the scene in front of him.

  He wasn't the only one. None of those with him looked in any better shape, and even those who weren't vomiting were pale from grief and disgust. This wasn't the sort of sight you could get used to, or for that matter should. Langstrom and Terry, who'd both worked with their share of serious injuries, were visibly shaking as they checked the bodies.

  “Looks like they gave as good as they got, at least,” Jane said. Her face was pale, but she didn't look as bothered as the others. Matt had always admired her ability to detach herself from a situation until she had time to process it.

  It may not've been the best time to make that observation, with the doctors still looking over the bodies and everyone silently grieving. She wasn't wrong, though. When they fled the bandits left five of their companions behind where they fell, and spots of blood indicated at least one more had been wounded but made it away.