by Nathan Jones
Davis's smile widened. “So you told me. Luckily the General was looking for volunteers for a scouting detail to break off from the convoy and head south down Highway 191, following it to Highway 6 and from there to Provo.”
“You're kidding!” Aunt Eva nearly shouted. “191 meets 6 just north of Helper. That takes us within 10 or so miles of Aspen Hill!”
The sergeant looked a bit surprised. “It does? Wow, I figured I was doing you guys a favor getting you a bit closer, but I didn't realize we'd be going that close.” His grin returned. “Never say I didn't do anything for you, I guess.”
“A favor?” Trev's mom replied, looking a bit overwhelmed. “You're a godsend!”
Davis shrugged, embarrassed. “I was just looking for something a bit more interesting than riding along with the convoy, and it happened to help you too. Don't read too much into it.” He turned and started back towards his squad's camp, snapping an order to one of his soldiers. But after a few steps he turned back. “Pack up. I want the camps down and everyone in my truck in ten minutes.”
* * * * *
They continued west, traveling more and more on I-80 over mountainous terrain where there was no room for smaller highways or roads to run alongside the interstate. A few of the soldiers seemed worried that the blockheads would suddenly swoop down on them from the north like a tide, but the area was remote enough that that didn't seem likely.
Davis continued to be more than forthcoming about the military's plans for the Rockies, although he was conscientious and didn't go into too much specific detail about locations and other sensitive information.
The idea was to take and hold the passes and high country in the ranges of the Rockies going through Utah and Colorado. Those passes would create natural choke points and easily defensible positions that would not only let them hold the mountains but, with any luck, defend the lowlands in between. That would give them a reasonably large territory in eastern Utah and western Colorado for civilian populations that they had some hope of defending.
If it turned out they couldn't defend that entire area, say if a significant enough attack came from the north or south, then as a last resort they'd pull back to whichever section of the Rockies was suffering the mildest attacks by the enemy and hunker down in the mountains there with whatever civilians they could escort to safety.
In that situation the Gold Bloc would find it almost impossible to dig them out or mount any successful attack, but the downside was that they'd have to surrender pretty much the entire rest of the country and abandon any hope of staging a significant counterattack. They'd be effectively besieged and forced to wait out their besiegers.
Ultimately the strategy cooked up by the two generals was pretty straightforward: delay the enemy, hold easily defensible territory and withdraw only when necessary, and if all else failed find the most remote, difficult to reach places up in the mountains and hopefully hold out until the Gold Bloc forces ran out of supplies and were forced to withdraw.
It wasn't the most inspiring plan, but outnumbered and outgunned it was the best they had. Davis confessed that part of the hope was that the invaders would be facing pockets of resistance all over the country in the territory they'd already taken, making those areas difficult and unsafe to hold and requiring constant attention to keep under control.
Facing a determined holdout in the middle of the country acting as a barrier between Russian and Chinese forces easily joining up, as well as small groups of insurgents striking targets of opportunity throughout the conquered regions, eventually the blockheads would fail just like every conquerer did when trying to deal with a well armed, unruly populace.
It would be bloody, savage, and ugly, and US citizens all over the country would suffer terribly, but eventually the enemy would have no choice but to withdraw back to more securely held areas of the US, at which point the remaining US Armed Forces could go on the offensive and keep pushing until the enemy was driven all the way back into Canada.
Trev had to admit that it was a little disheartening, when even the most optimistic plan painted a grim picture. But he was glad someone was fighting back: at this point there wasn't much choice but to beat the enemy by pure stubbornness.
The convoy took almost 7 hours to reach Rock Springs, arriving in the midafternoon. Not far beyond that Davis's scouting group split off on Highway 191, half a dozen vehicles and two motorcycles. The smaller group traveled a bit faster than the convoy as a whole, making better time.
They stopped four times along the way. The first was soon after splitting off from the convoy, to investigate a fire a few miles off the road while idling on a hilltop, using their binoculars to see if it posed a threat. There seemed to be no human presence near the fire, so although the circumstances were suspicious they continued on.
The other times were at the few towns along the highway that still had people living in them. The scouts didn't do any recruiting, but they did inform the residents of the general situation. Since all the towns were nominally in the area the military intended to try to protect Davis didn't try to persuade the people to leave.
He did alert them to what was going on, however, as well as handing out a few shortwave radios and giving information on how to contact the military on them. Last of all he asked them to consider what they'd be willing to do to help the military protect their homes and their loved ones the next time a convoy specifically came to visit the town.
The sun wasn't far from setting by the time the scouts reached Highway 6, after about six hours of driving from Rock Springs. Trev could've probably done the math on how long it would've taken his family to walk that distance, even going the slightly faster route through Denver, but just thinking about it made him tired.
Besides, even though they were almost home they still had almost a full day's journey ahead of them, of awkwardly hauling over a ton of grain on a single handcart and two wagons.
The scouts stopped for a break at the junction as Davis's Marines helped take down the cart and load it up, piling it until the tires began to sag. Trev sincerely hoped it could take the weight, and briefly considered slinging a couple sacks over his shoulders as a precaution. He quickly dismissed the idea, realizing it wouldn't do much other than exhaust him and keep him from being free to help pull the cart.
“Well, from your expressions it looks like you've got a bit of a walk ahead of you,” the sergeant said, standing with the family watching as his men worked. “Sorry we couldn't drop you off any closer.”
“Are you kidding?” Trev asked, grinning ruefully. “You gave us help when we really needed it, which might've saved all our lives. I can't thank you enough.”
Davis shrugged. “Well we had extra room and you paid your way.” He hesitated, then continued. “Listen, at some point we're probably going to be setting up in this area, and if we do General Lassiter will want to contact the remaining towns around here. To offer our protection, but also for recruiting and other aid from the locals that we'll need if we want to beat the blockheads. Where's this Aspen Hill you're headed to?”
Trev opened his mouth to answer, then it was his turn to hesitate.
The sergeant scowled when he saw it. “Seriously? If you can't trust us at this point-”
“It's not that,” Lucas cut in hastily, stepping over next to Trev. “We can certainly trust you, and we're in your debt. It's just that my nephew's been through a lot . . .”
Trev spoke up, a bit annoyed. “Actually it's not that, either. I'd be happy to tell you if it was just us, but I don't know if it's my place to speak on behalf of the town. We've had more than a little trouble since the Gulf burned, and some of it came from . . .” he trailed off, realizing that mentioning the trouble with Ferris and FETF probably wouldn't get a good reception with the sergeant. He found himself regretting even bringing any of it up.
Davis sighed. “Listen, I don't blame you for looking out for your people. And I certainly don't want to sound like we had an ulterior motive for giving y
ou guys a lift. But did you wonder how I justified doing that when the General's been refusing to take on refugees at every town we've visited?”
Trev hesitated. “I didn't really,” he admitted. “Mostly we're just grateful you did.”
“Well listen. When we heard you were heading home to a town in Utah we viewed it as an opportunity. Like I said, we're going to need the support of the locals when we get to the Rockies, and we also need to coordinate with them on using nearby roads without having potshots taken at us. Not to mention making arrangements so they can contact us for aid if they come under attack.”
The sergeant shrugged. “We just figured that you could let your town know the situation, see if anyone wants to join up with us to defend their homes. And once we get set up and seek you out you can sort of be an intermediary for us. Small price to pay for giving you a safe, speedy ride for 600 or so miles.”
That was all pretty reasonable. And anyway Davis already knew the name of the town and it would show up on any map of the area. It really wasn't worth alienating the soldiers who'd soon be fighting for their lives to protect them over pointless paranoia.
Lucas had been nodding throughout that entire spiel. “If you've got a map I can show you, and we'll definitely make sure the town knows what your help means and that you can't do it alone.”
“Fair enough.” Davis got out his map, grunting in surprise when Lucas marked a dot on an area a bit northwest of Carbonville. Aspen Hill was too small to show up, but the location was accurate.
“According to my nephew the signs pointing you to town along Highway 6 were taken down to deter refugees,” Lucas finished as he handed the map back. “But the roads are easy enough to spot, and there are three of them if you miss the first couple. I imagine you'll want to visit Helper, Carbonville, and especially Price as well. We'll contact them on the radio and let them know what to expect.”
“Appreciate it.” The sergeant abruptly noticed that his men had finished piling the sacks of wheat on and around the cart. Heading to the back of the truck, he retrieved the three AK-47s he'd temporarily confiscated. He also motioned to one of his men to retrieve the body armor and few other crowd control tools the family had been carrying.
As the soldiers piled back into the vehicle Davis made his way over and handed rifles to Trev and his dad. He then offered the last rifle to Lucas, but didn't immediately let go when the other man reached out to take it. “Listen, have you considered joining up with us right now? We got your family safely home, and from our conversations it seems like you and your nephew might be up for fighting back, especially if it means you can help protect your loved ones and reclaim our country.”
Lucas hesitated as the sergeant finally released the AK-47, then shook his head as he slung it over his shoulder. “We're worried about just surviving.”
“So is everyone else,” Davis replied with a snort.
“We also have our friends and family to worry about,” Trev's dad cut in. He looked slightly irritated at being excluded from the offer. “We can't ignore our responsibilities to them.”
The sergeant nodded. “I get it. If you want to hide and look out for just yourselves until the blockheads finally find their way to your doorsteps that's your decision. But just consider whether you want an existence constantly on the move fleeing pursuit, struggling to survive as everything around you burns, or if you want to help rebuild this country's future.”
The officer glanced at his men, then straightened stiffly. “I'm just a noncom with my boots on the ground, but forgive me if I see something worth saving in the United States of America. Something worth fighting for, even dying for if need be.”
Shame was a powerful tool, and Trev realized he sounded a little defensive as he spoke up. “The town might want to send some of our defenders to help, like you asked. But right now we've got to go see how things are there before we can decide anything.”
“Fair enough.” Davis offered handshakes all around, then brusquely took the few steps over to his truck and hopped into the back. A moment later they heard someone banging on the back wall of the cab, and the idling vehicle started off with a crunch of tires on gravel until it pulled onto the highway. The rest of the scouts, waiting ahead, pulled out to follow it as it headed northwest towards Spanish Fork.
After watching them drive out of sight his mom straightened her shoulders. “Well, we've been sitting around resting for most of the past two days. What do you say we figure out how to pack this wheat and try to get some distance before dark? It's a good opportunity to stretch our legs.”
Linda groaned. “Stretch them right out of their sockets,” she complained. But there were no other arguments to the suggestion as the family got to work.
They ended up piling the wagons with another 100 pounds. That left the sacks stacked absurdly high, with the wheels almost bending outwards from the extra weight, and they had to use cord to tie them firmly in place. The rest they managed to fit in the handcart, although it was also stacked absurdly high and needed to be tied.
With one less cart that left three more people to help with the one that remained, but Trev wasn't sure that was a good tradeoff. His dad and uncle took the wagons while the others helped him with the cart, but even so Trev almost groaned when he threw his weight against the pushbar and it barely budged.
To his relief it got a bit better as everyone else got their backs into it and began pushing along with him, but even so it was much more difficult than it had been. There was also the fact that the people pushing from behind kept naturally lifting as they pushed to deal with the added weight, which ended up shoving the front of the cart down.
Trev felt like his back would break and his arms would be torn from their sockets each time they did that, and he had to constantly remind them to push down slightly rather than up. It was more difficult for them, he could tell, and a few times they overcorrected so much that the pushbar nearly banged against his chin as he struggled to keep the front of the cart down, but after about fifteen minutes they got it figured out.
They moved even slower than they had been with two carts, but by the time they began looking for a place to camp before it got too dark to see Trev was satisfied that they'd made it over half a mile.
In spite of their weariness everyone was in a great mood as they set up their tarp-and-line tents from the cart to a handy tree. They'd gotten a bit closer to home on foot, and with any luck they'd reach Aspen Hill sometime tomorrow afternoon. Everyone was looking forward to reuniting with Lewis and reconnecting with old friends, but mostly the idea of the trip being nearly over had everyone practically singing. Or in Mary's case humming.
The next morning they set out almost as soon as waking up, after eating half of the extra pot of wheat they'd boiled the night before.
On Trev's advice they steered clear of Helper, and although they were sure the town's defenders saw them nobody tried to cause trouble. That might've been due to the fact that all in all the people of Helper were decent human beings, or that even a small well armed party was a deterrent. Or maybe they hadn't been seen after all.
Despite the appearance of safety Trev kept his eye on the town receding into the distance behind them as they kept going south, their laborious steps light with the knowledge that home was always just over the next rise.
Ten miles was nothing compared to the hundreds they would've had to travel without the convoy's timely aid. Even so, that “nothing” took a while when they were going barely over one mile an hour hauling their burden of grain. It was nearly noon by the time they reached the road leading off towards Aspen Hill.
At the sight of it a spontaneous cheer erupted from the family, and they managed a burst of energy as they pushed the last of the distance to reach it, eagerly talking about what they'd do once they finally made it to the shelter.
They'd made it. They were home.
Chapter Seven
Homecoming
On Trev's advice they took care to walk down the middl
e of the road stretching the last few miles to Aspen Hill, their weapons safely put away and showing no threatening signs. Just in case one of the defenders on patrol was feeling jittery.
Trev didn't really think any of his neighbors would shoot at a group with women and children without some pretty major threat to justify it, but it never hurt to be cautious. Although in that same spirit of caution they also kept their weapons within easy reach, in case the unthinkable had happened and the raiders had managed to take the town.
The cart didn't feel as heavy walking on ground he'd covered numerous times before, and he almost felt like he could count the steps left to reach home. After all his time patrolling and taking shifts at the roadblock, Trev knew exactly which of the rises they climbed up over and the bends they went around would give them a view of town from the road.
Although the northern road they were on wasn't the best for that, since with the layout of the land they'd be almost to town before their first view of it, atop a rise well within the patrol radius. He fully expected them to be stopped before then, and as they started up that last slope he felt the hairs on his neck prickling at no sign of any patrols.
“I should go ahead and see if there's a problem,” he said.
“No way!” Linda protested. “I want us all to get our first look at town together.”
Lucas gave him a concerned look, understanding his reasoning. “You're right, Trev. I'll go with you. Everyone else stay here, and stay alert.”
Ignoring his previous suggestion about presenting themselves as harmless, Trev retrieved his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, then handed his uncle the one he'd been using. Moving cautiously and with his eyes panning the landscape in all directions, he led the way up the remainder of the slope to the rise. He saw no signs of danger as he looked ahead at the town.
At his first sight of it his spine went rigid with shock and dismay, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.