Nathan Jones - First Winter

Bryant nodded back eagerly. “Pretty much that exactly. The military isn’t lying, we’re just neglecting to say when exactly we discovered this windfall.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Matt said. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it to ourselves.”

“Good.” The soldier started to turn towards the trucks, but Lucas clearing his throat turned him back.

“Question,” Trev’s uncle said. “You’ve had this windfall all along, but you also came in and took all our stuff. Was that to keep up the ruse that supplies were running out to keep the rationing tight?”

Bryant winced. “Kind of. But mostly it was to instill a sense of unity through sacrificing for the greater good.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. “Instill unity,” Catherine repeated flatly.

The corporal held out his hands in a “search me” gesture. “I’m just regurgitating the BS the higher ups fed me.”

“I suppose that means we won’t be getting any of the stuff we donated back,” Trev said. “Some of us were doing well enough to have a shot at surviving the winter without aid.”

Bryant gave him a lopsided smile. “Well now you’re in the same position with the military to thank for it.” He turned to Matt, becoming businesslike again. “First off, I was told your town holds roughly eight hundred people?”

Trev winced, thinking of the rescued prisoners in the Aspen Hill squads he’d brought back with him, as well as the Lincolns he’d pushed hard for the town to take in. All hardworking and dependable people, and hopefully they’d be valuable in building the community. But were the extra mouths going to dig into everyone else’s rations?

Matt glanced at him, seemingly thinking along the same lines. “We had 816 at last count,” he said.

“Then lucky for you, you seem to have friends who think you’re due a favor.” Bryant gestured. “Your town was allocated rations for 900 people. I suppose the surplus is the town’s to use however you think is best.”

Trev jerked slightly in surprise when he found Deb’s hand in his, briefly squeezing hard as she grinned at him in jubilation before letting go. He grinned back, and around him the leaders of Aspen Hill were quietly celebrating.

Then Bryant’s expression grew slightly grim. “The bad news is that we’re talking rations for 6 months per person. Our most pessimistic projections predict this winter could last as many as 7 or even 8. Especially up in these mountains, even in a lower elevation valley like this one. And even if you survive the winter you still have to last through the spring until you can start bringing in more food with crops or other means. So whatever preparations you’re making, I’d keep making them.”

That sobered the mood a bit. Although even thoughts of the ordeal ahead couldn’t completely dampen the news of 6 months of food for 900 people. That was more than any of them could ever have hoped for. It might mean the difference between only losing a handful of people as opposed to half the town, as many had feared. Especially after the hundreds of deaths Aspen Hill had suffered last winter.

“Not bad news,” Matt said with a smile. “Just less good, I guess. But still an unbelievable godsend.” He motioned back to town. “Should we get started? For now we can store the food in the town hall tent and the cabin we’re using for our clinic.”

The corporal nodded and trotted back to his trucks, which at his approach started up with the roar of dozens of engines. Matt immediately sprang into motion, sending Trev, Deb, and Lucas to escort the trucks while he and the other town leaders rushed back to Aspen Hill to gather volunteers to help with the unloading.

Food for 900 for 6 months represented hundreds of thousands of pounds of supplies. Getting it off the trucks and safely stored, both against weather and against potential thieves, was a daunting task. But daunting in a good way, Trev had to say.

He led his uncle and Deb to the side of the trail and waved Bryant on. As the lead vehicle in the convoy passed he was invited to hop on the passenger’s step to ride along, while Lucas took the spot on the driver’s step. Deb was invited to take the window passenger’s seat while the corporal scooted to the middle, but at the prospect of being squeezed in beside an unfamiliar soldier, even one who seemed friendly, she opted to squeeze in behind Trev on the step instead.

Bryant gave Trev a questioning look, and he shook his head to indicate not to make an issue of it. The brown-haired woman had plenty of reasons to be wary of men in uniform, although certainly not from their own side. Still, blockhead or US Armed Forces, combat fatigues looked like combat fatigues.

Out of respect for the town leaders still hurrying to get to town, the convoy traveled at a snail’s pace a modest distance behind. Bryant sheepishly admitted that with a bit of foresight they would’ve just made room for everyone on the trucks, but that would’ve actually taken more time and anyway it was too late now.

To pass the time, through the window Trev quizzed the corporal on the status of the refugee camp he’d come from, which was farther south and west of the mountains in Sanpete County. It was a large one, over twenty thousand people, and the logistics were a complete nightmare, especially with fuel running low. They’d been told to prepare to be completely isolated from the command structure and the rest of the camps when winter arrived, if not sooner. That meant they had to start thinking ahead to any problems, since they couldn’t count on help.

Trev could sympathize, since Aspen Hill had basically been in that situation from the beginning. Aside from the “help” Ferris had brought, of course.

“It’s pretty amazing of you to be out going around giving aid when your own situation is that uncertain,” Trev admitted. “And without expecting anything in return.”

Bryant hesitated. “Ah, there is one other thing,” he said soberly. There was a resigned quality to his tone, as if he was about to beat his head against a brick wall. “Officially I can’t ask, just inform you of the situation. Actually the higher ups don’t even really want that, but since they can’t offer a better solution we’re doing the best we can.”

Trev wondered if this was the shoe they’d been waiting to drop. He bit back a sigh. “Go ahead.”

The corporal shifted in his seat. “You were there, you saw how brutal the fighting was. I don’t know if any of your people were seriously injured, but without modern medical care a lot of even the simplest wounds became a big problem for our soldiers. My brothers and sisters in arms, people fighting to defend your homes and families.”

“We were fortunate there,” Trev agreed, wondering where this was going. “But I understand well enough. During a fight against raiders last spring one of our people lost a leg.”

Bryant nodded. “He’s in good company. There are thousands of soldiers who suffered amputations, minor or major, or who are still in recovery from serious wounds. These are brave men, as well as a few equally brave women, who risked their lives protecting you and lost a lot for it. They did their duty without complaint, they don’t deserve to be tossed aside.”

Ah. Trev should’ve realized that’s what the man was aiming at. At the same time he didn’t have much of a problem with what Bryant was indirectly asking.

It would be the height of ingratitude to abandon everyone injured fighting the blockheads now that the threat had retreated. He thought he actually preferred the idea of aiding veterans to that of bringing in refugees who had no skills to offer the town, even if the veterans’ injuries left them equally helpless.

Unfortunately he couldn’t speak for Aspen Hill. He led the town’s defenses, but when it came to organizing aid or taking in new people that was Matt’s call.