by Nathan Jones
And seven days ago the same event had happened on a global scale.
Finally his dad cleared his throat. “Will there be a disaster like it again?” he asked quietly. “Us and the Gold Bloc weren't the only ones with nukes, and you haven't mentioned how the rest of the world is responding to this.”
Davis didn't seem to hear, eyes straight ahead, although after a moment he answered. “From what I've heard the rest of the world has written both us and our enemies off. They don't intend to send relief efforts or engage in hostilities, they're more concerned with their own survival now that all the major suppliers and refiners of oil are gone.”
He sighed, looking older than his thirty or so years. “But if there's one silver lining to all this it's that we completely took out the Gold Bloc silos and their retaliatory strike was fairly restrained. For better or for worse, if the blockheads can't manage to conquer what's left of the US they won't be able to just pull out and finish the job of nuking us into oblivion. It's the one thing giving us hope as we prepare to fight back, that some kind of victory might be possible.”
“Is it really possible?” Linda asked from Trev's other side.
Davis straightened up a bit and gave the young woman a reassuring smile. “It is if we've got anything to say about it. General Lassiter's promised to turn the Rocky Mountains into a killing ground, make the blockheads bleed for every square foot they take. We'll keep fighting them until they either retreat back across US borders and end their invasion, or take out every citizen willing to hold a weapon to resist them.” His words drew strong support from his men, who whooped and cheered their approval.
Trev liked the sound of that, but he had his doubts. From the situation Davis had presented things weren't looking great for what remained of the US. From what the sergeant had told them about whwat the military had been able to find out after the Retaliation, the Gold Bloc invasion forces hadn't been hit nearly as hard as they could've been. That was because even though those in command hadn't really feared a full nuclear strike on their countries from the struggling US, they'd considered a more restrained strike on the military camps in Canada likely enough to justify evacuating them.
The evacuations hadn't been complete and tens of thousands of soldiers and civilian staff had been killed, but thanks to that precaution the bulk of the armies and most of their equipment and supplies had escaped undamaged.
That left the US facing over a million enemy soldiers with vehicles, helicopters, and even a few fighter jets, as well as enough fuel to prosecute a war for who knew how long. Meanwhile what remained of the US military was in shambles, their remaining citizens scattered in small groups with any significant population center destroyed by the Gold Bloc retaliatory nukes.
This very convoy, which represented one of the larger forces, had just over a thousand people, and of the thousands more soldiers ordered to assemble in the Rockies it was anyone's guess how many would make it.
It seemed fairly hopeless, but the small silver lining to the cloud was that if the enemy force could be dealt with the war would be won. There were no reinforcements coming for the Gold Bloc armies, no resupply, no chance to send them home on leave to recover from the horrors of war.
The enemy had to win this war fast, while simultaneously caring for the few million settlers they'd already brought over and had waiting in Canada for their chance to move into intact US cities and make use of existing infrastructure.
“This full scale invasion can't last long though, can it?” Trev asked. “Without any resupply they're going to run out of steam fast.”
The sergeant grimaced. “They're not entirely cut off from supply. From what I've heard Canada is providing them the aid they need to keep going.”
“Canada?” Linda burst out in disbelief. “What do they have against us! We've been friends from the beginning, haven't we?”
Davis shook his head. “Yes and no. On the one hand they're pretty pissed that we nuked them. Sure, our only targets were blockhead military bases, but they were still on Canadian soil and a lot of them were near major cities like Toronto that are suffering from fallout or were even within the blast radius. That's going to make serious enemies.
“On the other hand the Gold Bloc army and its settlers are heavily taxing Canada's resources, and the country was already struggling to begin with. Plenty of Canadian citizens were growing more and more hostile to Gold Bloc occupation from the start. Aligning with the Gold Bloc in the first place wasn't a popular idea for the average Canadian, and the move was pushed by the Prime Minister and his Cabinet in spite of strong opposition.”
“Not strong enough,” one of the soldiers down the line muttered.
Instead of coming down hard on the man Davis just shrugged. “That opposition grew when people learned that the Gold Bloc had plans beyond simply securing Canadian oil fields and stockpiles from the US military remnants and driving US soldiers back south to their own country. When rumors started of a Gold Bloc invasion into the already struggling States many Canadians began openly protesting. The majority of the population didn't want their country hosting warmongers or offering them any sort of assistance in an act they were strongly opposed to. Those protests grew even more heated after the invasion actually began.”
The sergeant snorted. “Of course, after global thermonuclear war and nukes landing near their biggest cities all bets are off. No saying what the average Canadian thinks about war with the US these days.”
Lucas nodded. “Their military isn't all that big compared to what we had just a year ago, but it still exists. And since the Gold Bloc's been giving them aid ever since the Gulf attacks Canada's been much better off than us. They can provide supplies, staging areas, and other support to our enemies if they choose to.”
“I never thought I'd see the day when we were engaged in hostilities with Canada,” Trev's mom said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The world's gone completely insane.”
“The biggest countries in the world being reduced to radioactive slag wasn't enough to tip you off to that?” the sergeant muttered. Clair shrugged uncomfortably, and after that an uneasy silence settled until Trev's dad cleared his throat.
“I know plenty of Canadians and on the whole they're decent, peaceful people,” he said gravely. “Regardless of the circumstances, I have a hard time believing they'll get fully behind this war whatever their leaders say. They might even openly oppose it.”
Davis shook his head. “Maybe, but I wouldn't hope to see Canadian insurgents joining up with us to fight off the blockheads any time soon.”
There was another grim silence. “You never know what the future will bring,” Lucas finally replied with a shrug. “Although for the moment my future involves zombieing out for a while. It's been a rough week.” He put his arm around his wife and leaned back against the metal frame the tarp was tied around, and true to his word instead of closing his eyes he just stared blankly up at the tarp overhead.
Trev didn't blame him. After breaking his back towing a handcart all this time riding in a vehicle, even one with poor springs and sitting on piled sacks of wheat crowded by people to either side, felt like pure bliss. Almost without realizing it he found himself staring blankly up at the ceiling too, at least until his eyes started drooping.
His last vague thought before falling asleep was that if he wasn't careful and slumped to his right, he'd end up falling off the sacks he was sitting on and landing on Sergeant Davis. To avoid that he leaned the other way into Linda. He could recall road trips when they were all a lot younger when his sister would throw a screeching fit if he so much as scooted a bit onto her part of the seat, but this time she didn't complain.
Spared his eardrums being blown out by a volume only teenaged girls could manage, he quickly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Six
A Few Final Steps
With a bit over 600 miles to Aspen Hill Trev didn't expect the trip to take long. Especially since, according to Davis, General Lassiter was
in a hurry to get the convoy to the Rockies. The General was motivated more by his desire to reach the mountains and begin organizing their defensive positions than by any desire to stay ahead of the Gold Bloc advance, which even at the speed the blockheads were moving was still a snail's pace in comparison.
Although for a line of over a hundred vehicles the notion of haste wasn't exactly what Trev would hope for. Which was why it had taken the convoy so long to catch up to the head start Trev's family had managed with their truck before Newtown, along with the much more modest distance they'd covered on foot in the six days since.
For one thing the logistics of moving so many people and vehicles was complex, even when there weren't breakdowns or other delays, and working at its best the convoy still took a while to get going again after every stop, and it ended the trip early most nights so everyone would have plenty of time to set up camp and do all the necessary tasks like cooking and vehicle maintenance.
Another reason was that the convoy didn't change its route to avoid any towns it passed, which felt odd to Trev after so long giving population centers a wide berth. Since it was in a hurry to reach the Rockies it didn't go out of its way to seek towns out, either, but whenever it found one that still had people living there it would stop briefly to give the warning about the approaching Gold Bloc forces and advise citizens make preparations or, better yet, flee entirely.
A warning was all they offered; no matter how the people in each town begged or cursed, Lassiter refused to give out any supplies or take on refugees. It was an ironclad stance he didn't waver on, no matter what sort of suffering the convoy encountered. The best the General would do was volunteer his soldiers to help with any heavy lifting or major tasks that needed to be done for a few hours, while the convoy's handful of doctors and medics offered what medical aid they could without permission to use any military supplies.
To be fair the convoy did bring on a few people from each town, although not out of charity. While Lassiter spoke with the town leaders his recruiters were out in force, looking for anyone willing to pick up a gun and join the fight against an approaching wave of enraged blockheads. Especially anyone with previous military experience.
The General's recruiting offer wasn't great, compared to what the Armed Forces had been able to give enlistees before the Gulf burned. But when the recruiters gave a blunt breakdown of the situation the country was in, emphasizing the need to defend friends, family, and fellow citizens thousands of miles away alike against an enemy that had a tendency to kill anyone they came across, that was enough to net a few volunteers with every stop.
Although the prospect of steady meals was probably the better recruiting tool, even if it came with the risk of getting shot at.
Seeing so many people refused a ride made Trev all the more grateful to Davis for making an exception to the rules and picking up his family. Even though they'd had to give the soldiers a few hundred pounds of wheat in exchange he considered it more than fair, and he didn't envy the people they left behind in those towns.
Lassiter wasn't entirely without heart, however. One of his main purposes for stopping to talk at each town was to let them know that, even though the convoy didn't have room to take on anyone but recruits, the townspeople should make their way to Utah and Colorado. If they did they'd be welcome where Lassiter and Erikson were setting up their defenses.
It was a recruiting tool, although a more subtle one. The military would need civilian workers as much as soldiers, and possibly in even greater numbers, if it wanted to effectively fight a large scale war against the invading enemy. At the same time the townspeople couldn't stay where they were under the threat of the approaching blockheads, and Lassiter's offer provided hope of safety and possibly even a better future.
The General certainly painted it that way, of an abundant, sheltered haven in the mountains.
A few of the towns they left were packing up by the time the convoy rolled out, getting ready to follow them as best they could. Others were more hesitant, debating whether to go or arguing for the need to take the time to properly prepare for that sort of long journey with so many people. But only one town flatly refused Lassiter's offer, insisting that trying to travel so far would be death, so they'd stay and hope for the best.
The convoy reached Cheyenne by that evening, rolling into the city without hesitation. Trev had his doubts about the wisdom of that, until he learned that not only had the convoy been in communication with the city beforehand but had sent scouts.
There was a modestly large National Guard unit there, who'd come with FETF at the beginning and managed to restore order after the initial riots. The situation in the city wasn't great, and starvation was claiming more of the population each day, but no violence broke out when the convoy arrived and began setting up camp.
Davis dropped Trev's family off at the campsite, inviting them to set up their tents near where his squad had been assigned to set up theirs. Then the sergeant and his men drove off to help escort one of the fuel trucks, which would be topping off vehicles the National Guard unit had prepared so the few hundred soldiers could come with them, along with a surprisingly large number of recruits.
Or, considering the starvation in the city and the fact that the only stabilizing element was about to leave, maybe not so surprising.
Once again Lassiter gave his speech inviting the remaining citizens to make their way down to where the military was setting up their defenses in the Rockies. Trev and his family weren't there to see it, but from scuttlebutt around the camp it sounded like the reception among the good people of Cheyenne hadn't been great, although with few other options they'd probably come anyway.
The next morning dawned chilly enough to drop a few flakes of snow on the convoy as they broke camp and prepared to roll out. That was a good reminder that even though it was getting on towards late spring, the weather could still turn cold if it wanted.
“Is this nuclear winter?” Linda asked, shivering as the family broke out their cold weather clothes in preparation for a ride in the drafty tarp-covered back of the truck.
The question drew uncomfortable looks from soldiers close enough to hear it, and Lucas paused in putting on his coat. “That's a hard question to answer.”
“You mean you don't know?” Mary translated.
Lucas gave his daughter a slightly annoyed look. “I mean that since it hasn't happened, the best predictions we can make are models based on much smaller phenomena, like firestorms or volcanic eruptions. Even the Middle East Crisis, the largest nuclear exchange in history, amounted to roughly the equivalent of 50 Hiroshima-sized explosions. Most of the nuclear winter effects of that exchange were localized to the Middle East, with a drop of less than one degree celsius worldwide. The old models and forecasts imputed what we learned from that, but didn't have time to really flesh out their predictions before the Gulf burned.”
The blond young woman hummed for a few moments, a song Trev didn't recognize. “Then what do all the experts guess, Dad? In words people besides you can understand, please.”
Trev's uncle gave them all a long-suffering look. “It means that given the scale of the Retaliation, the temperature could drop anywhere from 1 to 20 degrees celsius. Maybe even more. We just don't know.”
“Celsius?” Linda complained.
Their dad was frowning slightly in concentration. “A change of 20 degrees celsius would be 36 degrees fahrenheit, if I'm remembering my conversions right.”
Trev frowned as he did his own math. With a drop that severe the previously hottest day of summer would drop into the 60s in most places, like spring. Spring would become winter, and winter . . . would be brutal.
“So is this nuclear winter or not?” Linda asked, a bit impatiently.
Lucas blinked. He'd obviously been lost in his own grim thoughts about the future. “Probably not. I'm not sure exactly how long it would take for nuclear winter to set in, but I don't think the ash in the upper atmosphere has had enough time to sp
read far enough to really begin affecting things.” He pointed at the sun peeking up over the horizon. “The sun doesn't seem any darker. I'd say this is just spring in Wyoming.”
“Thanks for the lesson, Professor Scientist,” a dry voice said from behind them. Trev jumped slightly and turned to see that Davis had made his way over to their camp. Satisfied he had their attention, the sergeant jerked a thumb towards the truck. “Time to pack up. Convoy probably won't be ready to leave for another half hour, if we're lucky, but the General wants everyone good to go before then. Just so that the inevitable delays aren't added to by idiots slowing us all down because they decided to drag their feet when they didn't need to.”
As Davis turned to walk away Trev's dad hurriedly caught up to him. “The convoy's going to reach where it's going today, isn't it? As long as there aren't any delays?”
The sergeant paused and gave them a broad smile. “Why yes, yes we are. But that depends on where “it's” going. We're splitting up, sending about half the convoy south to Denver to begin setting up defenses for the portion of the Rockies that stretch through Colorado. The other half, including General Lassiter and my squad, will continue on into Utah. Salt Lake City, to start with, although well south of the fallout zone near Hill Air Force Base. It'll be a good starting point, as we get the lay of the land and begin gathering up survivors and sending them to safe places.”
Trev felt his heart sink. He'd made that hike before, and that had been when FETF and the Armed Forces assisting them had been patrolling the roads. Going now, with his family dragging an overloaded cart and wagons, the trip would be even more slow and dangerous. “We're closer to central Utah.”