Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (35 page)

Finally his friend planted the shovel into the ground, glaring slightly as it bounced off a rock and he had to catch it. “I don't know if I can keep doing this.”

“My turn then.” Trev reached for the shovel.

“I didn't mean the digging. But that too.” His friend gave him a bitter smile and handed it over, stepping away so Trev could get to work. Trev waited patiently for him to continue, wondering if his friend was going open up without him needing to say anything.

It turns out he was. “We're still weeks away from planting, and weeks away from harvest after that. We were banking on whatever food you and Lewis could sell us to see us to harvest. Without it we need a miracle or we'll keep on losing people, just like Price and Carbonville and Helper and everywhere else seems to be.”

Trev wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd only been in town a few days and he was already feeling the despair sinking in. For Matt, who was in charge of defending the town, losing people had to be crushing his soul even if none of those deaths came from attacks. Sam had good reason to be concerned.

Matt kept going, almost as if talking to himself. “You know Alice begged me to help her dad? During Razor's attack. I was too desperate to get to Sam, and even then I didn't make it in time to prevent her and Mom from being hurt. Terry tells me Mr. Thornton's, John's, wounds were too severe, and even if I'd helped he probably still would've died. But there's a world of regret in that “probably.”

Trev paused to look up and found his friend staring miserably at the grave as he continued. “I left John to his fate and went for my own family, and because of it his wife and daughter were left alone to fend for themselves over the winter.”

Was that what had hit his friend so hard today that Sam noticed it? “Don't let it eat at you,” Trev said quietly as he got back to digging. “We do what we can for others, but family comes first. If the situations had been reversed would you have blamed John for going after Betty and Alice, especially when you knew you were probably going to die anyway?” He caught Matt shaking his head sharply out of the corner of his eye, but his friend didn't reply. “Whatever happened is in the past. You can't let it stop you from moving forward.”

Matt sighed. “I sometimes envy you the winter you spent up in the mountains. Ten foot snowdrifts and bitter cold seem like a fair trade to avoid having to watch suffering you can't do anything to prevent.” He abruptly stepped forward, reaching for the shovel. “Here, I'd rather work myself to exhaustion than stand around thinking like this.”

Trev let his friend take over and stood back, watching the hole grow as the minutes ticked by in silence. He wanted to offer to take over before his friend pushed himself too hard, but if he were in Matt's shoes he'd probably want to keep digging for a bit longer too.

An hour later the grave was halfway dug. Trev had finally taken over for Matt, more out of necessity than anything, and his friend had slumped exhausted on the snowy lawn as Trev resigned himself to doing most of the digging. Hunger hadn't been kind to his friend and he'd lost a lot of his strength, which worried Trev more than he'd care to admit.

About that time Sam appeared, alone, to take Matt quietly to one side. Trev didn't know what the petite, dark-haired woman said, but it seemed to be just what his friend needed to hear. He watched from inside the hole as Matt gently picked Sam up and spun her around, then leaned down and kissed her before holding her close.

And yet Trev was even more confused when, a few minutes later, Sam left walking in the direction of the Watsons' and Matt came back to the grave, looking even more miserable than before. “What's going on?” he asked.

His friend looked a bit lost. “Sam's pregnant.”

That explained why she'd looked pale earlier. No wonder his friend looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. Trev grinned. “Congratulations!”

Matt smiled, half exultant, half despairing, although when he spoke it was as if he hadn't even heard. “She wasn't sure whether or not to tell me, because she wasn't sure herself. Missing a monthly cycle or two could be blamed on malnutrition and she didn't want to get my hopes up. Or for that matter make me worry even more. She also couldn't exactly go to a doctor, and she couldn't find a home test to take either. But the nausea she's been feeling for the last few days on top of all the other signs seem pretty conclusive.”

Trev scrambled out of the hole to clap his friend on the shoulder. “You'll be a great dad.”

“Will I, though?” Matt asked, his bleak mood making a comeback. “I can't feed my family. I'm spending all my time helping the town while the people I love go hungry. What kind of husband and father does that?” He looked almost sick. “What if I can't even feed Sam and something goes wrong? Or what if it's already too late after going hungry for so long and she doesn't have the strength to carry a baby to term? She's so tiny.”

Even though his friend looked torn apart by worry, and certainly seemed to be tearing himself apart by all the grim possibilities, Trev couldn't help but notice that a smile kept fighting to lift the corners of his mouth, and his eyes had a new life in them. He had to wonder if Sam had broken the news now to lift his spirits.

As Matt's friend it was his job to do what he could for that too. “Sam's stronger than she looks,” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder again. “And things aren't all on your shoulders. Do what you need to for your family and the town will sort itself out. And you're not alone, either. I'll talk to Lewis about taking you hunting with him at the spots Jane showed him. And we'll all be working on our crops together. Things will work out, and I'm not just saying that.”

“Yeah.” His friend finally let a smile break through. “Yeah. I'm going to be a father.”

Trev slapped him on the back. “I've got this. Go be with Sam.” He took out the bag of wheat he'd poured earlier. “And while you're at the Watsons, could you give this to Chauncey for Alice without letting him know who it's from?”

Chapter Sixteen

Tidings

The weeks passed quickly once Trev got settled in at the shelter with his cousin and the Larsons, who quickly came to feel like family. And day after day he fell into a routine that was in many ways much more rigorous than the life they'd had at the hideout, but also more satisfying. It felt like they were living rather than just staying alive.

At first he'd been afraid that Mandy's false accusations from the previous fall would still hang over him like a specter, and he did hear a few unpleasant snatches from the gossip circles and got some odd looks as he passed people. But either Mandy had ruined her own credibility or Trev's service to the town spoke to his character, because no one ever challenged him on it and people treated him politely, and even with a good deal of respect.

Over time he managed to get the roadblocks into a bit more order, more through example than through leadership. It helped that he talked to Catherine about the charity and got the gossip circles doing something more useful than sitting around in the chill. There were always things to be done, clothes to be washed and mended among other chores, and if they took more energy the Mayor also had a bit more food to give out.

Those who remained at the roadblocks learned to pass their time staring out at the road, and Trev convinced them to implement brief breaks to stretch their legs that also happened to take them out beyond the roadblocks to spots where they could see a good distance and keep an eye on any approaching intruders.

There began to be more and more of those as the weather grew warmer and the refugees once again took to the road searching for a safe haven that wasn't to be found. The Mayor held firm to her resolution to accept any newcomers into Aspen Hill, settling them in the houses of those who had died over the winter, so long as they knew that they could expect no handouts and had to be content with the opportunity to forage or hunt their own food.

Many took the deal anyway, since it was better than the violence of encountering roving bandits or being turned away with harsh words or worse at other towns they approached. It appeared that Price and Carbonville's loudly proclaimed intention to take in all refugees and find a way to help them had devolved into turning away all comers and fiercely protecting their borders.

When he wasn't at the roadblocks Trev was out hunting with Lewis and Matt, and sometimes Jane and Tom and his son Alvin. Trev had expected that they'd bring down any deer or maybe rabbits that they saw, but Matt and Jane's group were all quick to target anything that moved and had meat on its bones, from the occasional squirrels to potguts to roving slat-ribbed wild dogs, of which they encountered a few. Lewis even made it a point to bring his .22 rifle to shoot the varmints, and Tom had his .22 as well when he was with them.

The deer they did manage to bring down were always cause for celebration, but it was mostly smaller game that filled the pot and kept everyone in the shelter fed. That and the emerging green plants foraged by anyone who came across anything edible, no matter how unpalatable the taste.

Their meals were taken with particular care given to Sam, who received a bit extra at everyone's insistence in spite of her halfhearted protests. And the expecting mother valiantly fought her morning sickness to hold down valuable food they couldn't afford to waste. It seemed to be working, too, since to everyone's relief she looked healthier and stronger by the day.

There was one good thing that happened a couple weeks after he and his cousin returned to town, that did more to alleviate the town's worry for long-term sources of food than the remnants of their cache had. The patrol along Aspen Hill Canyon called in to report a flock of sheep coming down from the mountains, herded by a modest sized family called the Normans that a few people in town were vaguely acquainted with. The shepherds were there asking after a chunk of their flock that had disappeared last fall, showing signs of being driven towards Aspen Hill.

Catherine personally greeted the family and admitted that the town had found the animals unattended and brought them back for food. The shepherds were only slightly mollified by promises of payment, which would be a bit difficult since the family didn't seem too interested in precious metals.

They
were
, however, interested in arming themselves with proper weapons for self defense, and even more interested in the fact that Aspen Hill remained a fairly orderly and peaceful place in spite of all the chaos that winter. They'd had a few run ins with less peaceful, orderly people and were looking for a friendly town to trade with and live in part of the year when they weren't grazing their flock.

The Norman family was eagerly accepted into the town and offered the nicest available house, and had soon settled in. They were fiercely protective of their flock against the hungry eyes of desperate townspeople, but with some haggling the Mayor was able to convince them to sell some of their older rams and ewes for meat, as well as a few that had been injured over the winter. The important thing was that they were self-sufficient and part of the community, which meant by extension that the town had at least some livestock to offer future security.

Lewis talked about purchasing a few lambs if the Normans were willing to sell, but that was something they'd have to wait for since none had been born yet this spring. Having a flock of their own was something to look forward to, along with trying to trap a few rabbits alive to start their own hutch.

In the meantime, between hunting and their duties protecting the town Trev and his cousin also took time to carefully prepare their plot along the canyon stream as they anxiously watched the skies for the spring planting. The temperature improved day by day, and two weeks after Trev and Lewis got home many of their neighbors decided to plant, including the Larsons and Watsons. Ever the careful one, Lewis insisted they wait another week just to be safe.

Thankfully no frost arrived to threaten the tiny shoots emerging in many of the plots, but Trev didn't begrudge his cousin's caution as they got to work planting their own plot, one of the largest with only the Aspen Hill general plot covering more area. They opened each packet of seeds with care, careful not to waste even one of them if they could help it. Trev was slightly alarmed at how many packets were required to plant the entire plot, but Lewis assured him that the seeds were all heirloom and when the plants they produced went to seed they'd gather and preserve those for the next year's crop.

At least that was the plan. His cousin had read up on preserving seeds and even watched a few videos, and so far his studied knowledge had translated decently into practical applications. Lewis's dream was to move beyond the need for long term food storage to where they could provide for themselves reliably day to day with their own two hands.

“Preparedness is better than being unprepared, but it's much, much better to be self-sufficient,” he said more than once. And considering that they were nearly out of the food they'd prepared Trev was more than ready to move into self-sufficiency. The alternative wasn't attractive.

He did allow himself a little hope for the harvest, though, and even joked to others that with any luck soon they'd be learning how to preserve whatever grew for the winter. Canning and drying were mostly lost skills, although some in the town, mostly older residents, still had experience with them. In preparation for what all hoped to be a bountiful harvest each and every house, abandoned field, and garbage pit was rummaged through for old glass or plastic jars and bottles.

Canning jars with pressure sealed lids became a prized commodity, and unsurprisingly Lewis had several boxes of a dozen, all tightly sealed with plastic to keep them clean and protect them from breaking. Even better, while cleaning out the shelter Ferris had ignored them as useless.

Needless to say, once the plot was planted they guarded it nearly as fiercely as they did the shelter, working with their other neighbors growing crops alongside them. No one wanted to see these crops harmed or stolen, and the only place in town more secure was the storehouse itself.

It was just after Lewis and Trev finished planting three weeks after their arrival that the routine was finally broken, in perhaps the worst way possible. At least for Trev.

* * * * *

He'd just finished scouting past the roadblock, spying nothing but a group of townspeople combing over the landscape looking for any edible greens, and had come back to resume his position on the cars when he saw Chauncey waiting there.

Waving, he hopped one of the cars to join the older man. “What brings you to Roadblock 2?” he asked. “Something happening? I didn't hear anything over the radio.”

The retired teacher shook his head. “No. Well yes, but it doesn't really concern the town. Or I guess it does, but . . .” He trailed off with an uncomfortable shrug. “I thought you should hear it since it might affect your family.”

“Lewis?” Trev asked. “Or is our shelter in the path of some danger coming from the north?”

“No no, nothing like that.” Chauncey sighed. “You know the US had threatened to launch nukes if the Gold Bloc didn't get their troops out of Canada within a month's time, right?”

Trev nodded. “Saber rattling, you called it.”

“Yeah, well apparently I'm not the only one to think so. Word on the grapevine is that Russian troops are mobilizing along the border, near Toronto and Sault Ste. Marie. Alaska's long since gone silent, you know, but word is that broadcasts out of the Yukon and British Columbia territories are being squelched as well. It could indicate a large movement of Chinese troops towards the US border, and ships have been sighted along the coast of California and New England. It's all pointing to an invasion in the works.”

Realization dawned. “You mean my family in Michigan.” Trev tried to remember his geography. Sault Ste. Marie was along the Canadian border just north of Michigan, and Toronto was northeast of Detroit with a fairly major highway leading there. An invasion from either of those locations would almost certainly bring enemy troops close to his family's house in Greenbush.

The older man nodded grimly. “The Gold Bloc seems to have called our bluff. They're going to invade, probably within the next few weeks. I think they might even be planning to invade before the deadline for when they were supposed to withdraw from Canada in less than a week, just to further tweak our noses.”

Trev did his best to hide his alarm. “Have you been able to contact anyone in Greenbush?” Lewis hadn't had any luck, but Chauncey had been on the radios longer and might have made contacts his cousin hadn't.

“Sorry,” Chauncey said, shaking his head grimly. “There's plenty of chatter from up there considering the imminent threat, but nobody's heard anything specific about a Smith family living along the shore of Lake Huron. And all things considered no one's got the time or patience to go and personally check it out just to do a favor for someone halfway across the country.”

In answer Trev pulled the radio from his belt. “Speaking of favors, could you take the rest of my shift?”

The retired teacher accepted the radio, although he gave Trev a stern look. “Don't do anything rash, son.”

Trev thought of Betty Thornton. “I'm not going to wait until it's too late to help them. I've felt more and more like I needed to find them with every passing month since the Gulf refineries attack.”

Chauncey sighed and held out his hand. “You know better than anyone why it's a bad idea, but family is family. Travel safely.”

Nodding, he shook the man's hand firmly in thanks and broke into a trot towards the shelter, trying not to let his rising worry turn to panic. He was only half successful and his trot became a sprint, which he was able to maintain for the few minutes it took him to reach home.

When he got there, staggering and panting like a bellows, he found Matt and Lewis manhandling the 50 gallon tank of gasoline out of the shed. “The guys who attacked this place used up less than I was afraid of,” his cousin was saying as he approached. “We've probably still got 25 gallons in there.”

“What's going on?” Trev demanded. But in spite of his own agitation he couldn't leave them to that kind of heavy lifting. So even though he was seriously winded and on the verge of collapse he came over and grabbed a corner, letting Matt gratefully shift to the other corner on his side so they could split the weight.

His friend was eating better and had gotten back a bit of his strength in the last few weeks, but that tank had to weigh a couple hundred pounds: on the other side Lewis was straining to hold up half the weight as they shuffled it over to where the back of the shipping container met up with the hill. There was no answer to his question until they'd finished lugging it and started to cover it with a tarp, partly to protect it from the elements but mostly to hide the container's precious contents.

It was Matt who replied, looking a bit sheepish. “We're going to move the stuff in the shed into the shelter and convert it into a living space. Once the gas fumes clear out, that is.”

“Oh, right.” They'd been talking about doing that. Frankly Trev was surprised they hadn't already, although he supposed the lack of heating and the shipping container being less defensible were considerations. “Terry and April and the boys were going to move into it, right? Although you also mentioned having me and Lewis move so we could have our own space.”