Nathan Jones - First Winter

There was a short pause. “There is one thing to consider,” Lewis finally said. Matt noticed with interest that even though his friend had stepped away from any authority in the town, he still got everyone’s immediate attention when he spoke up. “Rogers might not be as reasonable with his terms when he comes back. What if he considers the veterans we took in as poached as well, and demands we take in 500 people? Or what if he tries to take back the surplus food we were given?”

Either of those things would be a disaster, even beyond what they were already looking at. Matt grimaced. “Are we going to reach a consensus on this, one way or another?” he demanded. The awkward silence seemed answer enough. “Fine. Then for now we plan to refuse Rogers’s terms and see what he says when he comes back, and before then see whether we can convince his superiors to call him off.”

He turned to Trev. “Make sure our defenders are ready.” His friend nodded, and he turned to Ben. “Let’s redouble our scavenging efforts. We don’t have food to offer, but maybe he’ll be interested in some other trade goods we can stand to part with if it’ll make this all go away.”

The older man looked doubtful. “He didn’t seem like the type to leave with a sackful of gold watches.”

“Better than the food we need to stay alive.” Matt nodded to his friends. “I’m sure you have scavenging expeditions planned.”

Lewis nodded, although he also looked doubtful. “There’s definitely things we can pick up,” he agreed. “I doubt any of them will help in this situation, though.”

With any decision basically made until they knew more or something else happened the meeting broke up. As everyone either drifted towards the exit or gathered in smaller groups Matt overheard the cousins talking.

“Now might be a good time to go after the reloading equipment I’ve made an offer on,” Lewis said in a low voice. “Before we’re potentially cut off from the outside world, possibly until winter.”

“I’m not sure I can break away, especially when I’ll need to keep my people on high alert,” Trev replied.

“No, I wasn’t expecting you to. I’ll go with Jane, maybe Gutierrez if he’s interested. I just wanted you to know where we are.”

“You’re not going into Rogers’s camp for this, are you?” Matt cut in. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

Lewis gave him an amused look. “No, I’m not nearly that crazy. It’s a place much farther west, almost to Sanpete Valley. Probably still a trip we can make in one day, depending on how things go. And don’t worry, we’ll steer well clear of the Major’s camp.”

Matt nodded and put them out of his mind. He had plenty of his own issues to worry about, and while Rogers and his demands were the most pressing they were far from the only ones.

The place where Lewis had agreed to meet Mr. Gallagher for the trade, going through Chauncey on the radio, wasn’t exactly a refugee camp.

It had started out as a displaced town, similar to new Aspen Hill. But since it was on a main road it had seen a lot of traffic through it, and eventually the military had begun settling refugees there instead of having them pass through. They’d tried to do so without displacing the current residents, but within a matter of days the few hundred people had been swamped by over a thousand refugees.

The result wasn’t pretty. Whatever order the townspeople had tried to impose on their new home had given way to trampled paths meandering between the crude shelters that sprawled in all directions, and a constant haze of dust kicked up by people walking on dirt with no gravel or paving to be seen. That dust coated everyone, leaving them all filthy and defeated looking.

There was a small military presence there, to assist the chaotic camp as well as keep the road clear and safe for travelers. The few soldiers looked harried, nearly as dusty and bedraggled as the people they watched over in spite of whatever discipline they maintained.

Rationally Lewis knew that even a few hundred extra people wouldn’t immediately create a situation like this for Aspen Hill. But it was a chilling warning of what giving an inch might lead to if Rogers decided he could start dumping his problems on the town.

Gallagher’s residence was on the far end of the camp. Lewis decided it would be better to ride through on the road and then circle around and approach it from the outskirts, rather than trying to go straight through that sprawl. They had their weapons with them, of course, and the soldiers kept a decent presence, but in spite of that the place stank of desperation. He’d brought a considerable amount of food in trade goods with him that might tempt trouble, and he wanted in and out as quickly as possible.

Jane and Gutierrez followed his lead, not complaining about pushing on to get away from this place in spite of the hard bike ride they’d just had. Gutierrez was a bit more obvious in his wariness than the rest of them, often riding one-handed to rest his other hand on his sidearm when they passed a potential threat.

Lewis was glad the former soldier had agreed to come along for the ride, now that his simple cabin was completed and he could spare time from gathering food and firewood. Since Gutierrez lived alone and was often away on patrol for Trev he’d put his food in the town storehouse where it could be guarded full time, free of charge thanks to his service to the town. He had a neighbor keep an eye on his cabin and the firewood stored beside it, which might be a target for theft but not as much as food would be. As for the rest of his possessions, he brought them along wherever he went or stored them with his food.

Beyond giving Gutierrez a chance to feel like a part of things, it gave Lewis a chance to get to know him better. In spite of all the fighting side by side they’d done they both tended to be somewhat of loners, in Gutierrez’s case maybe not so much by choice as due to how he’d come to be in town. Either way, if the former soldier was interested in Mary then Lewis wanted to feel out his intentions a bit.

It wasn’t an issue of trust, exactly. Maybe a bit of brotherly overprotectiveness.

Gallagher lived in a crude but carefully built shack along the border where the besieged town ended and the refugee camp began. The man was older, late 40s or early 50s, balding and with the sagging flesh of someone who’d been overweight before an extreme apocalyptic weight loss program.

He had an extensive set of reloading tools to trade, including equipment for all the most common calibers and a few esoteric ones, as well as custom work. He even had a small supply of bullets in several calibers and the lead and jacketing material to make more, as well as his own modest supply of shell casings that Lewis didn’t intend to buy, since he had plenty of his own.

No smokeless powder or primers though, unfortunately; Gallagher had used all of his making rounds to trade for food, before his situation became so desperate he was forced to trade the tools themselves. Lewis felt a bit bad to be the one benefitting from that misfortune, but he’d offered a good deal under the circumstances.

In this case that deal was three months of food for an adult male. Assuming the older man also had his six months from the military, it meant he had enough food to last the winter and then some. Judging by the arsenal Gallagher displayed as he showed them the tools, including a .308 slung over his shoulder, a hefty .50 cal pistol at his hip, and possible evidence of another concealed pistol in a smaller caliber, he wouldn’t have problems either defending what was his or hunting for more food to keep him going.

“It’s a shame to lose all this,” Gallagher said as Lewis looked his equipment over, going on information he’d read and the few reloading videos he’d watched from his hard drives to make his appraisal. From what he could see it was all well used but also lovingly cared for, in good condition under the circumstances. “I’d keep it if I could, hope to get by with whatever cartridges I could make, but I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find powder or primers for love or money. I need the food more at this point.”