Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  Chapter Fourteen

  Resolution

  Wonder of wonders, for once the military had actually called ahead to announce they were coming. And even more amazing, it was Colonel Grimes himself who'd be making an appearance.

  Matt would've been a lot happier about the news yesterday at this same time. Trev and Gutierrez had barely returned from from their attack on the camp, and the entire town was sobered by the event and how few prisoners they'd returned with.

  From Trev's report it sounded like Gutierrez had done an amazing job in spite of the insane aggression of the bandits, but it was still not great news that they'd been forced to kill over two thirds of the enemy.

  Given their uncertain standing with Grimes and the frosty meetings they've had with the military up til now, Matt wanted to do his best to limit spectators to a minimum so the town wouldn't present as an unruly mob, as Rogers had portrayed them. The reception for the colonel would be him, the town leaders, and twenty defenders obviously arranged as a protective escort. Everyone else he sent home.

  Of course, he'd learned some lessons in caution from the camp coordinator. So just like when Rogers had come to take their food, Matt had defenders waiting in houses and scattered in concealed locations. Just in case.

  Seriously last resort, since if a meeting with the colonel himself turned violent that was probably it for Aspen Hill. Which made Matt more than a little nervous. After all, he was representing the town to the nominal leader of this entire region, all of what was left of the United States in the Rocky Mountains.

  As an automatic gesture his eyes flicked down to what he was wearing. He'd had plenty of clothes at home when the Gulf burned, and since they were light and useful his family had brought them all with them when they fled Aspen Hill. It had seemed like enough to last him for a long time, but while he did his best to keep them clean and avoid damage, after over a year of 19th century living they were looking pretty ragged.

  Hardly Mayoral.

  They needed to start getting wool from their sheep, and Hailey needed to start spinning it into cloth with help from anyone else who wanted to make a profession of it. He knew the townspeople involved in hunting were curing hides to stitch into clothing, rugs, and blankets, but he doubted a buckskin outfit would make him look any more sophisticated than stained, faded, torn jeans and a light jacket.

  Of course he could go home and change, but somehow getting the town ready for the visit and planning what he'd say seemed more important than making himself presentable.

  Then again he wasn't exactly trained in politics or diplomacy. Trying to keep a town together against bandit raids, starvation, and the coming winter required a certain set of skills that he was barely keeping up with. He wouldn't be in any way, shape, or form qualified to be Mayor of a pre-Gulf refineries attack town, and handling a visiting dignitary fell into that category.

  “I'd appreciate it if you'd stick close to me for this,” he said in a low voice to Catherine as everyone scrambled into place, Chauncey's voice over his headset a constant background keeping him updated on the Colonel's progress. “I'm not exactly sure what to do here.”

  “Talking to a senior military officer about screwups by his subordinates leading to chaos and instability in a region, that you've been forced to put down with violence without his authorization?” the former Mayor replied with grim amusement. “I'm happy to lend my considerable experience with that sort of thing.”

  That was incredibly reassuring.

  It turned out to be a situation of hurry up and wait. After everyone got into position they realized that even with vehicles, it was still a bit of a drive between Manti and their little valley in the mountains way out in the middle of nowhere. So after Matt double-checked that the prisoners, corralled in a meadow just south of town on the other side from the road, had been given a bit of food and water so the town wouldn't be accused of mistreatment, he and Sam hurried home so he could change after all.

  His wife agreed completely with him that he should be dressed up for this occasion. With her help he got an old suit laid out, which was slightly short on him but other than that fit as well as when he'd worn it in high school, then hastily bathed himself with soap, water, and a cloth and dug out a stick of deodorant that these days he only used for special occasions, usually a date with Sam.

  She was only a month or so from having the baby now, round and awkward and constantly battling between her seemingly endless energy and enthusiasm and her need to take things easy. She wanted to help, but at his insistence she settled on their bed while he tidied himself up.

  “This is like staring at a buffet I can't eat,” she teased at one point.

  He gave her a slightly incredulous look as he tried to put on his shirt. With the bruises from the gunshot it turned out to be more difficult than he'd expected. “This isn't exactly the best time for that.”

  “Duh.” She pushed heavily to her feet and came over to help him, motioning for him to stoop so she could get behind him and finagle his arms into the sleeves. As he worked with the buttons she popped up his collar and started tying his tie, talking as she did. “I can't wait to get this little guy or gal out so I don't have to be pregnant anymore.”

  He patiently let her finish the knot and arrange it properly, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I don't think you're going to be feeling too frisky for a while after that.”

  Sam lightly punched him, careful to avoid the bruised area. “I meant in general. This magical experience has a lot of unmagical parts to it.” She helped him into his suit jacket and smoothed the collar after he buttoned it.

  “As opposed to caring for an infant that wakes up every few hours?”

  “Ugh, don't remind me.” His wife rested one hand over her round belly. “The rascal's already driving me crazy with all the kicking.”

  “That probably means a boy, right?” Matt asked.

  “Dr. Maggy doesn't want to say one way or another.” Sam stepped back and looked him over, then whistled softly. “Wow hot stuff. Your wife must have to chase the other ladies off with a stick.”

  “Not in her condition. And she's looking pretty good herself.” He leaned down to give her a long kiss.

  Which of course was interrupted by the defender on far patrol to the west reporting in through his headset. “Military convoy approaching.”

  Sam felt him tense and pulled back. “He's here?” she guessed.

  “Looks like it.” Taking his wife's hand, he started out the door and towards the north end of town. Neighbors popped their heads out doors as he passed, and he sternly waved them back into their houses.

  Once they reached the people gathered to receive their visitor Sam squeezed his hand and broke away and join the town leaders, while Matt gathered up Lucas, Chauncey, Catherine, and Deb. They stepped forward to meet the vehicles coming down the western slope, Chauncey slightly awkward on his prosthetic leg.

  The military convoy rolled right up to them, the lead vehicle stopping only ten or so feet away. Matt tensed slightly at that, although he was comforted knowing how many defenders were in position to cover him if, God forbid, things turned unpleasant.

  A man fitting Lucas's description of Colonel Grimes hopped out of the lead truck, and when Matt glanced back at the older man he got a confirming nod. The colonel stepped forward alone to meet them, which seemed like a good sign.

  “Colonel Grimes,” Matt said formally, offering his hand. “I'm Matthew Larson, Mayor of Aspen Hill.”

  “Mayor,” the colonel replied gruffly, returning a firm grip. “I'd heard you were young.”

  Matt ignored the unspoken judgment in the words as he turned to the four people with him. “Allow me to introduce Catherine Tillman, who served as Mayor before me. She's providing invaluable insight based on her considerable experience. Lucas Halsson you already know. And this is Chauncey Watson, our town's radio expert, and Debra Rutledge, one of the town's defenders.”

  Grimes nodded and prepared to speak, but Matt hastily
continued. “Chauncey and Lucas have prepared a report for you, everything we have on what's been going on in the area since Major Rogers sent the refugees our way without consulting us. They've used radio communications, reports from our defenders and townspeople, and eyewitness testimony from a few other residents in the area that Aspen Hill aided when they faced the threat of banditry. They've also accumulated a modest amount of video, photographic, and audio evidence.”

  That took the colonel aback. “You have that sort of evidence these days?”

  “Our town has enough solar panels to run a few essential electronics. Including smart phones, which is enough for most things. And I'm willing to attest that this evidence, as well as the other information provided by these two gentlemen, is true to the best of our knowledge, and comes from reliable sources.”

  Grimes paused for just a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I'm eager to finally hear Aspen Hill's side of things,” he said to the two men. Then he turned an expectant gaze on Deb, waiting to hear what she was doing there. The brown-haired woman cringed slightly at his attention, then staunchly straightened to her full medium height. She was still a bit pale after yesterday's ordeal, but looking well rested at least.

  Matt's tone turned grim as he finished the introduction. “And Deb is the last surviving member of the patrol that was ambushed yesterday afternoon. She's agreed to give you a full account of the attack. We also have photos of the crime scene and the victims. We already performed funeral services and buried our people, as you can understand.”

  The senior officer nodded to her as well, much more gravely. “My condolences, ma'am,” he said. “I regret it took the deaths of your companions to finally bring this matter to my attention.”

  Bring the matter to his attention. As if Aspen Hill hadn't sent a delegation directly to the man asking for help, and Chauncey hadn't been talking himself hoarse over the radio trying to get someone, anyone, on Grimes's end to do or even say anything. The colonel had apparently already learned the lesson Catherine had taught Matt about never admitting guilt by saying sorry.

  Before Matt could think of a response the colonel curtly motioned to him. “Before we begin I'd like to have a word in private, Mayor.”

  “Of course,” Matt said. He motioned to a bench outside a nearby house, just a roughly smoothed log sitting on two stumps, and led the way over to offer a seat, then sat down himself ready to hear the man out.

  Grimes dove right into it. “I'll be frank, Mayor. While you do have my sympathy for the loss of your people, the reason I'm here is because of your openly, and might I add loudly, stated intent to go after the men who killed them.”

  So you don't mind when we die, but you come running when the people attacking us might come to harm, Matt thought bitterly. He knew that wasn't entirely fair, since what the colonel was probably worried about was the eruption of large scale violence in the area. Still Aspen Hill had plenty of reason to be justifiably angry and Matt was less and less inclined to excuse the man.

  While he was silently fuming Grimes had continued. “I think you can understand that, angry as your people might be, I need you to hold off on taking action against the camp harboring these men. Let the military handle it.”

  Matt took a breath to steel himself. Angry as he was, he didn't look forward to what was coming next. He decided to ease into it. “With all due respect, Colonel, we haven't received any responses to our requests for aid, instruction, or arbitration. In the meantime those bandits butchered four people whose duty was to protect this town. When we went to their camp to demand the others give up the criminals who committed that atrocity they fired on us. Fired on me, hitting me in the chest.” He pointed to the exact spot where the vest material had punctured his skin, although of course it couldn't be seen.

  “I'm sorry to hear that. But it doesn't change the fact that you're not qualified to handle this situation.”

  And there it was. “Apparently we are, since we hit the camp at dawn. The prisoners are waiting under guard south of town.”

  From the direction this conversation had been going he expected Grimes to explode in righteous anger at that. But the man just slumped slightly in his seat, looking exhausted. “You took them prisoner, then?”

  “We tried to capture them all alive, to hand over to you for judgment or to deal with ourselves if you refused to,” Matt replied, trying not to sound defensive. “We surrounded their camp and presented a display of force, then demanded they surrender and submit to arrest. They decided to attack us, and we were forced to defend ourselves. It didn't go well for them. Those who finally did surrender are being held in custody, aside from the wounded being treated in our clinic by our doctors.”

  The colonel rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring at the ground as he spoke. “You can't take the law into your own hands, Mayor Larson. Aspen Hill isn't an isolated town fighting against the world, it's part of a community. Dealing with criminals is our job, and trying to do it yourself only creates problems.”

  Only creates-

  Matt sucked in a sharp breath, tried to control his anger, and only partially succeeded. “We contacted you yesterday after our people were killed,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone level. “We've been contacting you for the last nine days since Rogers sent 1,000 of his camp's criminals and malcontents our way and created this problem in the first place. We heard nothing but silence and you sent away the people we sent to represent our side of the situation. So we did what we had to.”

  The man's face was reddening with his own anger. “You didn't give us time to-”

  “No,” Matt cut in sharply, surging to his feet. “You can't claim a vital job, not do it, then get mad at us for having no choice but to do it ourselves. It took the deaths of over 70 people to get you to finally step in and look at a problem someone under your command created. You dropped the ball in the worst way possible, and now you're telling us to trust you to handle things?”

  Grimes sat through his rant, expression stony. When Matt finally finished the colonel abruptly stood as well. “Give me a day,” he growled. “I'll get to the bottom of this.”

  Suddenly more frustrated than angry, Matt sank back down into his seat, staring up at the man. “That would be great, but right now what this town needs is for you to do something about the displaced refugees scattered for miles in every direction, half of whom have turned to banditry. Take them back into a refugee camp, send them aid and leave them where they are but read them the Riot Act, I don't care. Just as long as they stop attacking my town.”

  “Because if they do you'll attack them back?”

  It was a petty jibe, but under the circumstances Matt was willing to let it slide. “We'll defend ourselves. We have the right to do that, don't we?”

  “If that's what you're doing.” Grimes turned back to where the others waited. “Let's hear the details from your people, as well as any eyewitnesses you have. And then I suppose we'll have to talk to your prisoners and get their side of things.”

  “If they're inclined to tell the truth about what happened,” Matt said, following the man.

  “I wasn't born yesterday, son,” the colonel snapped. He raised his voice to address the people ahead. “Mr. Watson, Mr. Halsson, Ms. Rutledge. If I could borrow you for a day, two at most, I'd like to get your testimony as we drive, as well as make use of your familiarity with this area. I'll probably also need to go over most of this in a more formal setting back in my camp so it can be officially recorded.”

  The three glanced at Matt, who hesitated, shrugged, then nodded. They'd already sent people to Grimes and he'd treated them okay. “That's fine with me,” Lucas said. “I welcome the chance to finally tell our side of the story.”

  “I suppose Rick can take over on the radio for a day or two,” Chauncey said. He leaned down and rapped on his wooden prosthetic. “As long as I won't have to do much walking.”

  Attention settled on Deb, and she wilted slightly in fear. “I'd prefer to talk about t
he attack here, if you don't mind. I don't want to go anywhere.”

  Grimes gave her a curious look. “I'll make sure your situation is comfortable and provide for your needs while you're assisting me. You'll be treated well.”

  Deb gave Matt a beseeching look. He stepped closer to the colonel, lowering his voice. “Ms. Rutledge has suffered some traumatic events recently. She was a blockhead prisoner.”

  “Ah. I understand,” Grimes said. He genuinely seemed to: likely he'd heard more than his share of reports about the atrocities committed by the enemy. “Although I hope she knows there's a world of difference between Gold Bloc soldiers and the servicemen and women of the United States Armed Forces.”

  Matt agreed completely and was sure Deb would be safe if she went. Still, he hesitated to bring up that their recent encounters with the military had been less than favorable. “Maybe she can tell her story while we go see about the prisoners.”

  “That's fine.” Grimes turned to face him fully. “You'll let us take them off your hands, won't you?”

  “As long as they receive justice for their crimes and are prevented from harming other innocents,” Matt agreed. Personally he was happy not to have to worry about them, especially if it meant not having to order the execution of those whose crimes demanded it. He'd been dreading that eventuality.

  “You have my word on it.” Grimes politely offered an arm to Deb. “Please relate what happened to your patrol in as detailed and accurate a manner as possible, Ms. Rutledge. Your testimony, as well as that of those who confronted the accused in their camp, and Mayor Larson himself when he was shot, will be important in seeing they receive the proper punishment for their crimes.”

  Deb was obviously reluctant to make physical contact with a stranger, considering she was skittish even around Trev, but she hesitantly took his arm as Matt led the way through town to where the prisoners were being held. Behind them the rest of the town's delegation and the military convoy followed.