Nuclear Winter (Book 1): First Winter

by Nathan Jones

  The former soldier spat off to the side. “Not after watching his predecessor royally screw up and get off scot free.”

  There wasn't much to say to that. “Would you consider a dishonorable discharge scot free?” Matt asked. His friend gave him a wounded look, and he guiltily realized that was basically what had happened to the former soldier. “Sorry, I didn't-”

  “Guess I'm the pot calling the kettle, huh?” Gutierrez cut in. Mumbling something in Spanish, he stalked off.

  Sam watched him go, brow furrowed worriedly. “He's not doing so great, is he? I should talk to Mary to see what she can do for him.”

  Matt blinked. “I didn't realize they were that serious.”

  His wife shrugged. “She thinks they're getting there. I hope so . . . they'd be an adorable couple.”

  Interesting. Hopefully that would help Gutierrez get over whatever was eating him. Still . . . “I'll have a talk with him.” Matt pulled her a bit closer. “But first can we enjoy a few minutes knowing our troubles with Rogers are finally over?”

  “Sounds good,” she agreed, leaning back against him with a contented sound.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Unexpected Opportunity

  The morning three days after Grimes returned with his news that the bandit problem was resolved found Matt cuddling with Sam under a blanket, listening to a book on tape from Lewis's archives on her phone.

  She'd been up most of the night, unable to sleep and bundling up to visit the latrine several times. Dr. Maggy had assured them that neither of those things were particularly unusual, but stressed that Sam needed to try to rest more. So Matt was setting aside his duties for a moment to relax with her, just to make sure she did.

  It was his first chance to enjoy some much needed time with his wife for what seemed like weeks, during the day when neither of them were asleep. Which they both really could use after everything that had happened.

  So of course Murphy's Law kicked in, and Trev's voice crackled over the radio sitting on their bedside table. “We've got a military truck approaching. Alone, covered in markings.”

  That was the last thing Matt wanted to hear. Even though Grimes seemed to have resolved the situation with Rogers and had dealt with most of the displaced refugees, news of an approaching military vehicle was enough to stiffen his spine and make the hairs on his neck stand on end. Sam twisted to give him a look of concern as he gently extricated himself and leaned over to grab the radio.

  “Markings? Like a special branch of the military, or some civilian outfit?”

  His friend's voice came back sounding amused. “Well the markings say things like “Jewelry for sale”, “Discount ammo”, and “Winter coats”. So I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's probably a traveling salesman.”

  Matt exhaled what felt like every ounce of air in his lungs in relief. At his side Sam gently shoved him, her expression suggesting it was meant for Trev for scaring them like that. “You couldn't have said that from the start? Things are tense around here.”

  “Humor's good for morale,” Trev replied. “Anyway any salesman with a truck probably has high end stuff to trade, to justify the expense of using fuel. He'll probably have things we want.”

  Matt was already pulling on his boots, but he paused long enough to reply. “Probably. But either way I want you to cover him just in case this is some sort of trick. Remember, Ferris took Helper by pretending to be a relief convoy.”

  “Already on it,” his friend replied. “In the meantime should I roll out the welcome mat?”

  “Go for it. Specifically, I want you to represent the town and get first offer on all his trade goods.”

  There was a long pause. “You want to buy it all up, even luxury items?”

  Sam gave him a curious look as he answered. “Of course not. But I want the town to have a chance to pick up what we need first. There are a few folks here who are well enough off that they might want to snatch up everything they can afford, then turn around and flip it at a markup to people who are desperate for it.”

  “Gotcha. I'll talk it over with him.”

  Matt's bruises had healed enough that he could put on his own coat without help now. As he was zipping it up he noticed Sam pulling herself out of bed and felt a moment of guilt. He didn't want to tell her to miss the fun, but at the same time he didn't want her to exert herself.

  “You should stay here and rest,” he said.

  She gave him a plaintive look. “I was going to, I just need to pee again. This little guy's using my bladder as a trampoline.”

  “Okay.” Matt leaned down and kissed her, briefly resting a hand on her belly to confirm that yes, the baby was kicking like crazy in there. “I'll try to find something nice for you.”

  “Don't worry about me, take care of the town,” she insisted as she started for the back door. Then she hesitated and gave him a sheepish look. “Although I wouldn't say no if you did happen to pick something up.”

  Grinning to himself, Matt headed for what everyone was jokingly coming to call the Greeting Field, where they usually waited for visitors.

  * * * * *

  Lewis and his dad immediately pooled their store of precious metals when they heard about the approaching trader. The entire time Lewis fidgeted with nervous excitement at the thought of what sort of useful items might be carried by someone who'd use up hard to find diesel to drive around in search of trades.

  In the back of his mind tickled the thought that things didn't quite add up. Aspen Hill was doing all right as towns went, but aside from this business with Rogers they'd stayed fairly low key and off the radar. And news that they'd been harassed by the military and were fighting off hundreds of refugees turned to banditry didn't exactly scream prosperity.

  With such a huge risk, not only of being robbed but of simply using fuel for no good reason, why would anyone come here to trade?

  His dad was smiling too, and at first Lewis attributed it to his own excitement at what they might be able to purchase. Then he caught the looks his dad kept shooting his way when he thought Lewis wouldn't notice. And just that suddenly it clicked.

  “This is a deal you made at the Manti camp, isn't it?”

  Lucas chuckled and scooped up the last of their one-ounce coins. “Let's see.”

  Sudden excitement surged through Lewis, even more than when he'd first heard the news. “You found a supply of smokeless powder and primers.”

  “Now how did-” his dad started, looking genuinely surprised and a bit put out. Then he sighed and shook his head. “You're way too sharp, son. Can't even let your old man spring a pleasant surprise on you.”

  So it was true, his dad had found him a source. After all this time waiting and searching. Lewis wished Jane could be here for this, but she was out on patrol, using her typical method of keeping an eye out for game as well as threats. Still, it would be good news for when she got home.

  As they gathered up their gear to head outside his dad coughed a few times, pausing to lean against the doorway. Lewis watched it with concern; it wasn't the first time his dad had coughed like this in the last couple days. “Are you okay?”

  Lucas straightened with a slightly irritated smile. “Guess I'm just not reacting to the cold all that well.”

  “Doesn't say much for our Viking heritage,” Lewis joked. Then he sobered up. “Seriously though. Think it's possible you might've picked something up while you were with Grimes's soldiers?”

  His dad waved that away, even more irritable. “It gets cold, people cough. No need to read more into it than it is.”

  Lewis nodded doubtfully. “Okay. But rest if you need to. The rest of us can take care of getting ready for the winter well enough if you need to take a few days.”

  “Let's just go get your reloading supplies,” his dad grumbled.

  A lot of people in town were coming out to see what the trader had to offer. Even though most of them didn't have anything they could afford to give as trade items they still wanted
to see what was available. The two Halsson men joined the parade to the north end of town, watching as the truck rumbled down the road towards them.

  Trev hadn't exaggerated his description of the vehicle. It was covered with neat writing in white paint, large enough to read from a good distance away, of various items on offer at reasonable prices. Judging by how packed with goods the cab was Lewis assumed the covered bed would be equally crammed. A good sign.

  Two men could be seen through the windshield squeezed in among the goods, an older man in the driver's seat and a massive younger man who looked like a bodyguard, leaning out the passenger window riding literal shotgun with a 12 gauge in his hands.

  Trev and his defenders intercepted the truck before it reached the crowd, and Lewis watched his cousin make his way around to the driver's door to speak to the older man. About taking all the best stuff for the town.

  Lewis wasn't terribly happy about that. He got Matt's argument about unscrupulous people hoarding essential goods for profit while their neighbors suffered. But considering Lewis was one of those with the means to purchase items his family and the shelter group in general could really use, and the town was stepping in and preventing him from doing so, it was a bit annoying.

  Still, the smokeless powder and primers should be a different deal entirely, and if Matt tried to horn in on that Lewis was going to have a real problem with him. He'd been trying to get his reloading business off the ground for over a month now and had already invested a lot into it, and his dad was the one who'd made the deal with the trader that brought him here in the first place, specifically so Lewis could acquire those items.

  He was probably just being paranoid though. He couldn't see his friend shafting him like that for the town's benefit, assuming the town even could get some benefit from propellants they'd have limited use for.

  Still, there was plenty of other stuff he wouldn't be getting his hands on since Aspen Hill had first pick. Maybe he shouldn't have been so excited about gathering up his precious metals. Then again, maybe there were potentially useful items Matt and the others would overlook, giving him a shot at them.

  . . . which would then leave him with the dilemma of informing the town of their potential utility to benefit Aspen Hill, or withholding the information for his own benefit and doing exactly the kind of thing Matt had wanted to prevent. Crap.

  He spied the Mayor making his way through the crowd to join Trev and fell into step next to him for a few seconds. “You sure have a way of making an exciting event less fun,” he muttered, hopefully low enough that only his friend could hear.

  Matt gave him a confused look. “You mean first pick for the town?”

  “Yeah.”

  His friend grinned. “You know the town still owes you some for the food you and Trev sold us. Among other things. We need to pay you off somehow.” He patted Lewis's shoulder and kept on going to greet the trader.

  Well, that made him feel a little better.

  It turned out the trader, Ned Orban, knew the sorts of things that were worth burning diesel to cart to potential customers. His truck was filled with small but valuable items like water filters, ammunition, nails, screws, hinges, and latches, larger items like wood burning stoves, a variety of saws, axes, hammers, picks, and sharpening tools, and squeezed into the top he'd crammed rolled up blankets and cold weather clothing.

  And candles. Lots of candles of every size and shape. And oil lanterns, and electric lanterns and flashlights and hundreds of batteries. If Matt didn't pick up every single means of producing light Ned was selling to get the town through this winter he was an idiot; solar power could only do so much, most of what their panels provided was limited to the Halsson and Smith homes and the clinic and town hall, and the nights were going to be long and dark.

  The trader also had a shocking array of incredibly expensive jewelry, probably looted from an upscale store somewhere. Lewis noticed Trev, Rick, and a few others perusing the items on display, suspiciously watched over by Paul, the bodyguard. Even Matt poked his head in, although he seemed to lose interest when he saw the prohibitive price.

  Sure, the cost wasn't anywhere near what things like white gold, platinum, and diamonds were actually worth. But way more than anyone struggling to survive could afford for luxury items.

  Unfortunately what Ned was willing to trade for was pretty limited. The list started at food and ended at . . . food. Aside from things of obvious value and utility, for instance he was interested when Lewis mentioned the town had solar panels and livestock, although disappointed they weren't willing to trade any, he really didn't want much of what the townspeople had to offer.

  With the town facing an ammunition shortage Matt was able to trade some of their spare guns and parts for a surprisingly generous return, and a few people who were better off for food managed to get decent returns on other items they desperately needed.

  As for Lewis and his dad and their precious metals, Ned was interested but not willing to offer anywhere near the full value for gold, silver, or platinum, unlike Newtown had when Lucas had traded there. Lewis had other things to trade, such as condoms from his stockpile and other small but valuable and useful items he'd prepared from before the Gulf burned.

  The trader was very interested in Lewis's hard drives, too. Lewis balked at first, until he realized the man had drives of his own and what he wanted was the terabytes of movies, music, books, and other media Lewis had stored on them.

  “That sort of archive's a valuable thing to have, one that few people thought to put together when they had the chance,” Ned said. “That deserves some reward.”

  It was a good thing Lewis had all those things, because the boxes full of neatly stacked bottles of smokeless powder and carefully sealed packets of primers the man had brought weren't going to be cheap. There was enough of both there to craft a lot of cartridges, anywhere in the area of ten thousand judging by Lewis's hasty calculations. But Ned knew the value of his reloading supplies and wanted a good return on them.

  “You can't charge more than the reloaded bullets themselves would be worth,” Lewis protested, trying to talk him down.

  “I can and I will, if the buyer's desperate enough,” Ned replied with a grin. He abruptly scowled and turned towards his truck. “Hey! I said five people at a time! Paul!” The bodyguard hurried forward, along with a few of the defenders Trev had assigned to manage the crowd and keep townspeople browsing the goods to the limit the trader had set.

  “I can and will break fingers if I see anyone stealing,” Paul rumbled. The Aspen Hill residents who'd tried to crowd the line to start their own shopping hastily retreated, hands up to show they were empty.

  Ned turned back to Lewis. “Sorry. Like I was saying, this stuff's got a serious demand and what you can make with it is worth its weight in gold.”

  “Judging by your trade rates gold isn't doing so well,” Lewis pointed out. “And it takes more than just powder and primer to make bullets.” His dad, who was along for the negotiation as a silent observer, snorted in amused agreement. It turned into a brief but deep cough.

  The trader shrugged. “Maybe so. But without them you've just got shiny brass trinkets and hunks of jacketed lead.”

  “If I can't get the value of my time and all the other expenses I've put into this out of the reloaded bullets, there's no point in doing it,” Lewis shot back. He had to admit he kind of enjoyed the bartering process. “I appreciate that you mainly came out here for this deal, but if it's a bad one I have to walk away.”

  There it was. Lewis was desperate to buy, but Ned would also be desperate to sell. He'd invested fuel to get here, and while he'd probably get a good return from the town and other buyers this was why he'd come.

  “Don't think I won't walk away myself,” Ned warned. “Condoms and movies and gold coins would all be nice to have, but this stuff is hard to get your hands on and nobody on the continent is making it anymore. Unless of course Canada or Mexico or the occupying blockheads have
a factory going somewhere. And if they do I doubt any of what they make is going to find its way to you.”

  That was also a good point. “That might be true,” Lewis admitted. “But even if it's a bad supply how's the demand? Are you inundated by buyers trying to get their hands on a product that requires specialized tools and other materials to even get any use out of?”

  “Yes. The military. But I thought I'd give the little guy a shot at my wares first.” Ned sighed. “Look, kid. You're sharp, but neither of us is going to walk away from this deal happy. Just like any good deal. I can walk the price down a little, but I offered a reasonable trade to begin with.”

  Lewis kept up the pressure, and the trader stubbornly pushed back, but in the end he was satisfied by how much he got the man to lower the cost. He ran home to gather up the agreed upon trade goods, and couldn't fully conceal his satisfaction as they made the exchange and he hefted the boxes of materials he'd been trying to get for so long.

  Under 60 pounds, he guessed. It felt like it should weigh more, take up more space, considering the massive amount of value he was going to get out of what he held.

  He was in business.

  “No buyer's remorse now, hear?” Ned said, clapping his shoulder.

  “No, now that the deal's made I'd say it was pretty fair,” Lewis admitted. “If you have more of this I might be in touch sometime in the future, depending on how my luck goes.”

  “I might. And if I'm around this way again I'll look you up.” The trader grimaced and glanced towards his truck. “Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get things squared with Mayor Pennypincher over there. The guy haggles like a used car salesman.”

  Lewis couldn't help but grin. “Probably because he was, at one point.”

  “That explains it. If you thought you dug in like a badger for the best price . . .” As Ned walked off Lewis heard him grumbling loudly to himself. “You'd think that junk he laughingly calls firearms were made of solid gold and shot diamonds. And what good am I even going to get out of them when he's buying up all my ammo?”