by Nathan Jones
After exchanging farewells, reluctant ones from the boys who wanted to stay longer and were only slightly mollified by the promise that they'd be coming to live here again, Matt and his two nephews headed off down the road back into town. In spite of his weariness Lewis climbed up to the observation post and watched after them with his G3's scope, just to be safe.
It hadn't been too long ago that a jaunt like this, so far out of town with young children, would've been unthinkable. Old habits died hard, and some shouldn't die at all.
Once the three were safely back in town Lewis headed back inside, shut the door, and listened with satisfaction as his rig automatically dropped the bar back into place. Then he made his way over to wrestle his share of the blankets back from his wife. Hopefully without waking her.
The nightly patrols had become a lot easier and safer of late. Everyone still went on foot, since the diesel captured from the raider trucks was too precious to waste, but now every defender who went out was kitted in full body armor, night vision gear, and quality weapons.
If the raider attack could be said to have any silver lining, it was that after defeating them and salvaging all their equipment Aspen Hill was in a much better position to defend itself. Fuel, reinforced vehicles, radios that could be encrypted on multiple frequencies, body armor, night vision, and most of all the weapons and ammunition all made the town very secure.
Lewis knew that even a few rocket launchers and .50 caliber machine guns couldn't protect them from every threat the town might face, but if Turner's raiders had found them a tough nut to crack with all that stuff then that meant Aspen Hill should be able to handle an even bigger force that was similarly equipped if they had to.
Short of facing tanks, jets, and attack helicopters, they should be just fine.
In spite of his efforts Jane woke up as he got into bed. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, scooting over and pulling his arm around her. “Was that Matt?”
“Yeah. He wanted to see how we felt about his family all moving back in, and everyone in your group too, while we move out to the shed where we can keep our privacy.”
“We can make it work.” He caught her smile in the dim light coming from the Christmas lights hung out in the general area, which they kept on during sleeping hours in case someone needed to get up; getting the solar power up and running again had been one of his first priorities when they moved back in. “On the plus side, there's no mice out there,” she continued.
“Yeah, shipping containers keep out just about everything as long as they're shut tight. It'd be nice to not be lulled to sleep by the pattering of tiny paws.” Lewis kissed her and settled back. “And on that note, good night.”
Jane made a disappointed noise and propped herself up on one elbow facing him. “You know, I think I might be awake for a while. If you're going to be awake too we could think of something to do.”
Most of Lewis's weariness vanished, and he smiled broadly. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”
She smiled back, light blue eyes dancing. “Hey, you're the genius who planned an attack that took out the raiders without a single loss. You figure it out.”
* * * * *
Trev was surprised to find that in spite of the packed, chaotic conditions of the camp his movements were pretty effectively restricted.
He'd wondered what the green patch on the coveralls he'd been issued were, but he quickly found out. They were a simple way to indicate what section of the camp he'd been placed in, marked by signs and painted lines of the same color around the section's borders.
He also quickly found out that trying to go into other sections led to swift ejection and, one of the few times he'd tried it, a painful reminder in the form of a few well placed punches and kicks. He was lucky he managed to convince them it was an honest mistake from a new arrival or he would've been pepper sprayed.
After that he got the message to stay in the green section, or one of the public areas like the mess tents and latrines.
It seemed like it would be extremely dangerous for soldiers to come into the camp itself, and it probably was, but they could still be found all over the place. Aside from guard positions at public places and hub points they also roamed through every section in groups of four, wearing heavy riot gear and carrying serious deterrents.
Considering the conditions of the internment camp and the fact that there were half a million people, a four-man patrol didn't seem that big. Trev had wondered why none had ever been attacked, but a bit of casual conversation among the other prisoners in his section quickly got him an answer to that question, although it wasn't a pleasant one.
As it turned out one patrol had been attacked, and had responded by throwing flash bangs to clear the crowds, then nearly beating their attackers to death with batons and cattle prods. And unrest on a larger scale was handled even more harshly, with the speakers hanging from telephone poles all over camp being used as sound weapons to incapacitate large groups of people, and if that didn't do the job tear gas was lobbed in to blanket everything within a hundred feet of the spot in a choking cloud.
The Gold Bloc soldiers were serious about keeping order, and they came down hard at the slightest excuse.
In spite of those restrictions Trev did his best to search for his family. He combed green section thoroughly and talked to everyone he could, seeing if anyone had seen anything. He also loitered as long as he could at the mess tents and various latrines close to his section, questioning anyone who passed who was willing to talk to him. No matter what he did he always kept his eyes peeled in all directions, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of his parents or siblings, but so far that hadn't happened.
Not that he really expected it to. Finding a needle in a haystack would've been easier than this, since what he was doing was more like trying to find four pieces of hay in a haystack, all wearing the same featureless coveralls as everyone else.
He'd been at it for three days now, all day the day he'd arrived and yesterday, then today starting from early in the morning until lunch. He planned to get started again right after he ate, searching the mess tent itself and talking to people, and the soggy potatoes and potted meat on his plate helped his efforts by providing no incentive to linger and enjoy his meal.
He probably shouldn't complain; for all the camp's faults he got three meals a day, and if they were bland at least they provided more calories than he actually needed. He figured the big portions were to help the starving people the invasion forces had captured put a little weight back on.
Most residents of Aspen Hill would be overjoyed to get to the point of eating this well, and for that matter so would most of the rest of the country, barring rare towns like Newtown with their surplus.
Once he'd cleaned his tray he made his way over to deposit it at the exit and get his hand stamped, next to the stamp he'd gotten for breakfast. It was the only way you could leave the mess tent, and a good deterrent against both theft of the tray and utensils and coming back for seconds.
The listless crowd shuffling among the tables parted only reluctantly to let him pass, although some people gave him hostile looks as he eased his way through. Those were the main two emotions in the camp, despair and seething resentment, and Trev didn't blame the people around him. They'd gone from starvation and facing robbery and worse at any time to forced imprisonment.
Unfortunately they didn't just reserve those emotions for their captors, and they spilled over to their fellow prisoners and anyone they came in contact with. Trev had seen adults yelling and cursing at stray children and at each other, even among obvious families. He was just glad he had his search to distract him from similar feelings, since they were certainly there.
Either way the camp was like a pressure cooker, the emotions of hundreds of thousands of people being forcibly repressed with no outlet. Trev wondered how long things could go on like this before even automatic weapons and brutal crowd control wouldn't be enough to deter spont
aneous riots.
Once his hand was stamped he made his way outside and began circling the mess tent, watching for familiar faces. To his surprise this time he actually saw one, that of his uncle standing taller than almost everyone in the crowd and heading his way.
“Uncle Lucas!” Trev called, hurrying over. “You found me!”
Lucas gave him a weary but exultant smile. “After some looking. Even knowing there were only so many places you could go it took a while.” His uncle took his arm and led him to a more out of the way spot, lowering his voice. “But I didn't come just to check in on you. I have good news.”
Trev did his best to contain hope he wasn't sure he should let himself feel. “Are you saying . . .”
“I found them,” Lucas replied, smile broadening to a grin. “That owl marker you mentioned was the clue. It turns out an earlier patrol than the one that caught you had also followed it and caught your family in nearly the same spot. It's created a minor stir among the soldiers, and some are saying the owl trail's some kind of underground railroad.”
“So the trail my family left that got them caught also helped make them memorable enough for you to find them?” Trev said. “I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.”
His uncle shook his head. “No use speculating on what's already happened. Anyway, even going on that I had to dig around for days to find the soldiers who'd captured and processed your family. I decided to track the rumor, which turned out to be almost as time consuming as just going on the time frame of their capture and checking the records, but finally I managed it. Then I had to jog their memory on which section of camp your family had been placed in.”
Trev could only imagine how difficult that must all have been, especially with the Gold Bloc members so hostile to Americans. “I'm glad they were willing to help you.”
That earned him an amused look. “Once I'd bartered away the few luxuries my position allows me to make my family more comfortable, sure.” At seeing Trev's concerned expression he waved that away. “But the important thing is we found them.”
“Right,” Trev said eagerly. “Which section are they in?”
“Orange.” His uncle started away from the mess tent. “Let's get back to your tent so you can change back into the clothes you came in wearing. Normally walking around outside without your coveralls would get you in huge trouble, but with me escorting you it should be okay.”
Trev hurried to keep pace, and together they made their way through the camp. The mess tent was relatively close to his tent, but in a camp this large and crowded relative meant about fifteen minutes of weaving through narrow lanes clogged with people.
They were forced to stop at one point as a confrontation developed in front of them between several men. The prisoners in question were all fairly quiet in spite of their harsh tones, and the violence so far hadn't gone any farther than some pushing. They probably feared drawing attention from the guards, but in spite of that it looked like a serious dispute.
Trev watched the shoving match, thoughts turning uncomfortably to the thief who'd tried to shank him when he'd first arrived. “So I know nobody even thinks about attacking soldiers or other Gold Bloc personnel, but what about violence between prisoners?”
Lucas shook his head. “Less than you might think. The Russian contingent doesn't come down on troublemakers quite as hard as the Chinese, but they're still pretty severe by any objective measure. They also tend to punish the people around the troublemakers as well, which gives everyone incentive to break up the fight before the guards arrive. Not to mention that a place to sleep and three meals a day is a huge step up from where most of these people were before the invasion, and nobody wants to risk that with unnecessary trouble.”
“My family were doing great in Greenbush,” Trev argued, more heatedly than necessary. “Do you really think a bit of bad food and a cot in a moldy tent justifies everything they've done here?”
Lucas shifted his shoulders defensively. “I'm not blind to what the Gold Bloc are doing, and there's a lot of bad there. But you have to understand that working with logistics I also see a lot of the big picture of just how much our fellow citizens have suffered over the winter. A lot of violence, a lot of sickness and starvation, and a horrific amount of death. Almost nobody is in a situation like Greenbush, if what you say about there is true, and even Aspen Hill is a paradise compared to most. At best people huddled up someplace safe to survive like you and my son, and almost as many didn't as did.”
Trev was thoughtful for a while as onlookers broke up the fight, just like his uncle had suggested, and Lucas led him past the dispersing knot and on through the camp. Taking them between cramped tents and crowded, miserable people who seethed with pent in resentment and anger, at least to his eyes. The people around him might've been provided food and beds, but many seemed to need medical attention and almost all were unwashed, their coveralls filthy.
“Do you know why they're gathering up and imprisoning US citizens instead of, well, something worse?” he finally asked.
“Yes and no,” his uncle admitted. “That sort of information doesn't trickle down to where I work, but there's plenty of speculation. The consensus seems to be that they're planning for some sort of large scale forced labor project, maybe to restart the country's drilling and refining operations.”
Lucas shook his head at the thought. “The more likely theory, at least for me, is that the Gold Bloc is trying to present a more benevolent image of themselves to push global perception away from conqueror towards humanitarian mission. And I'd say the remnants of the US government with their finger on the nuclear button, continually threatening to push it, are a fairly big consideration. You could view this place as a cross between a prison camp and a hostage situation on an immense scale.”
“It's a lot of expense and effort for an image boost, especially with how difficult things must be after the global economy collapsed,” Trev pointed out.
Lucas looked amused. “You don't need to tell me that, I work with the numbers every day. But you'd be surprised how much a government would spend for that kind of spin. Either way the Gold Bloc has to do something with the US citizens they encounter, since their end goal is to empty out our communities and use the existing infrastructure for their settlers.”
“Wait what?” Trev demanded, stopping abruptly to stare at his uncle.
“You haven't thought about what the Gold Bloc would have to gain from invading?” Lucas replied, turning to look at him. “That's pretty important if you want to understand their motivations and guess what they're going to do.”
“I can see why they'd want Canada, for the oil,” Trev answered. “But all our cities were torn apart by riots and the food is gone. I suppose they could also restart all the US drilling operations and oil refining like you said, but something like that would require a lot of effort to get off the ground in a place being torn apart by violence like our country is.”
His uncle snorted. “There are other valuable things in this world than just food and oil, especially when you've already got those. But you're wrong that the food is gone: after the nation ran out of gas a lot of places that had food like grain silos, processing plants, and that sort of thing were cut off from the people who could eat it. The Russians and Chinese are going for those places first.” He motioned back towards the mess tent. “You'd be surprised how much of their “generosity” is them feeding us with our own food.”
Trev nodded. “That makes sense, after seeing Newtown. But it still doesn't seem enough to justify this kind of huge operation, invading with hundreds of thousands of troops and imprisoning millions of people.”
“That's just icing on the cake. The real prize for the Gold Bloc is our cities.”
That just seemed absurd. “You mean the abandoned ruins filled with viciously warring gangs?”
“Yes. Abandoned and largely intact, especially most of the valuable infrastructure. Not to mention most people fled with only what they could carry o
n their backs, leaving their valuables and useful possessions behind. The Gold Bloc soldiers are having a field day looting every place they take, and Gold Bloc countries are already lining up hundreds of thousands of settlers to come and take over where US citizens who perished or fled the cities left off. Especially China, who are very eager to get their settlers over here in large numbers.”
That was a lot to chew on, and Trev fell into a thoughtful silence as they reached his tent and he quickly went in to change, then followed his uncle as they headed out of green section in the direction of orange section, another walk of fifteen minutes or so.
“I hope we find them,” he finally said quietly. “I hope they're all doing okay.”
Lucas rested a hand on his shoulder. “They were all doing fine when they were caught, according to what I heard. And this camp is fairly safe for the most part.”
Trev nodded, but he still picked up his pace a little.
At the entrance to orange section the soldiers halted them and demanded Lucas's credentials, which he quickly supplied. For a moment Trev was worried they'd cause a problem for him, but Lucas managed to talk them around and they were let through.
They started by doing a grid search of the area, going down each lane and checking every tent they passed, as well as describing his parents and siblings to passersby. The plan was to move on to the nearby latrines and mess tents if that failed, but halfway down the third lane Trev caught sight of the backs of two familiar heads, his mom's blonde and his sister's light brown.
He broke into a run. “Mom! Linda!”
For a moment there was no reaction, and he was afraid he was about to embarrass himself by calling out to the wrong people. Then they turned, eyes wide with shock. Beyond them Trev's dad and brother had been walking, clearing the way through the crowd, but when Trev called their names too they also turned.