Nathan Jones - First Winter

On the plus side, at least he had something to do.

Chauncey relayed the word about the group sent to talk to the military.

Trev didn’t like the idea of days of delay when Rogers might decide to try something at any moment. Even if Grimes eventually decided to act in their favor, it wouldn’t mean much if a tragedy had already taken place.

His mood wasn’t improved by the fact that in spite of doing all he could to prepare for when-or if-the major returned, once that was done it was hard to get to the more normal work. Especially since he wasn’t sleeping well thanks to worry and, well, Deb.

The brown-haired woman’s fragile mental state had taken a turn for the worse with the fear that the town might come under attack. The idea that her safe refuge might not be so safe had had her waking him up for the last two nights to sit with her for reassurance.

That had given him more incentive to get back to building his room now that the barn was finished, so her visits wouldn’t risk bothering his family in their attempts to sleep. So far he thought Deb had managed to get his attention without disturbing anyone else, at least not too much, but it was still an awkward situation.

He’d barely been paying attention to the date, so it was a surprise while doing the morning chores when Matt came around and asked him to help coordinate the commemoration.

“Of what?” he asked, setting down the length of fence he’d been moving.

His friend gave him an odd look. “The Gulf refineries attack. It’s been a year. I thought we should have a small ceremony in memory of our lost friends and loved ones, maybe fly the flag to show that the United States of America still lives on.”

Only a year. It felt like it’d been so much longer, to the point where how he’d lived before was a fading memory. Trev nodded soberly. “All right. Between my work seeing to the town’s defenses I’ll go around to the defenders and see who wants to pitch in.”

“Good. I think we should have it in the field just north of town, closer to the road. The animals haven’t been at the grass there as much, and it’s close enough to the stream to be green. We can set up a small stage with packing crates or something, trot out the sound system for some appropriate music, mix up the usual powdered drinks, maybe try to put together some decorations. Think we can manage that by this evening?”

Trev shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Although as a rule it’s usually good to start preparing a few days in advance, mostly to let people know it’s happening.”

Matt grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, actually you’re not the only one who forgot. We’ve had a lot on our plate lately, and since this is the first year we can’t really call it a tradition.”

“Gotcha.” Trev glanced over his friend’s shoulder and saw Deb approaching from her cabin, looking as exhausted as he felt. “We’ll get started after chores.”

“Thanks.” His friend nodded to them both. “And good morning, Deb.”

“Hey, Matt,” she said tiredly. Matt gave her a slightly concerned look, then shrugged and headed off to do his own organizing. Once he was gone Deb turned to Trev, looking almost fearful. “What are we getting started on?”

“Commemorating the Gulf refineries attack one year ago,” Trev replied, getting back to his chores as the brown-haired woman moved to help.

She looked relieved. “Oh. I thought it was bad news about Rogers.” She brightened. “He wants us to help with the preparations?” He nodded. “Good! I always liked setting up a party.”

Trev wasn’t sure he’d call it that, but he wasn’t about to jump on her for a harmless slip. He was just tired and on edge from everything that was going on.

Working together they finished up their chores, and Trev popped in to tell his family what he was doing. Minor alarm bells rang when he saw that Jim and Linda were nowhere to be seen, and his mom and dad were standing shoulder to shoulder in that “unified front” stance he remembered from the few times he’d been in serious trouble as a kid.

“Have a seat, Trevor,” his mom said gently but firmly, motioning. Not to his cot, nearest the door, but to Linda’s closest to the stove. Which would effectively put him where they could corner him for a serious discussion.

Just that suddenly he felt like a kid again, and it was an effort not to hunch his shoulders guiltily. “Um, Matt wanted me and Deb to help him set up a ceremony to commemorate the Gulf refineries attack,” he hedged.

His dad glanced apologetically at Deb, who’d been peeking inside curiously around Trev’s arm. “Good morning, Deb. Could you give us a few minutes with our son?”

“Of course, Mr. Smith,” she said. They were all familiar enough by this point that she usually called his parents by their first names, but she’d caught on to the mood. “I’ll get started with Gutierrez, then probably Trent.”

Blast, she was happy to send him into the lion’s den. Trev couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done here, but his parents were generally easygoing so it had to be something. He reluctantly shut the door behind him as Deb waved and walked off, then trudged to plop down on the edge of Linda’s cot.

“Okay, let me have it.”

His parents sat down across from him on their own bed, looking as serious as Trev had ever seen them. “You’re not in trouble, son,” his dad began. “But I think we need to have a serious discussion.”

Those two statements seemed contradictory. “About what?” he asked warily.

His mom took a breath. “We’d like to ask you a few questions. I don’t want you to give knee jerk answers, or actually really any answers at all. I want you to keep emotion out of it and do your best to look at the questions from all angles. In fact, I don’t even want you to assume that the questions I’m asking beg a certain correct answer, or that any answer is correct.”

Trev’s wariness was giving way to pure confusion. “What?”

They were both having trouble meeting his eyes, especially his dad, who was staring awkwardly somewhere off to his right. He seemed content to let Clair do the talking for them. “First, is it possible that you can’t give Deb the help she needs?” she began.

The question, circumspectly approached as it was, still hit Trev like a load of bricks. “What?” he said again, anger instantly there.

His mom held up a stern hand. “No emotion, no knee jerk responses.”

“Forget that!” Trev said, starting to stand. Only then did he remember that his parents had picked their seats to put him against the wall. That just made him angrier. “Do you go and sit Lewis down when Jane walks off in the middle of a conversation without a word? Do I go all psychoanalyst when Mary starts humming songs pertaining to whatever situation she’s in because she’s too shy to talk?”

“She does what?” his dad asked, looking befuddled.

Trev ignored him. “How about when Linda can’t seem to figure out the world’s ended and still insists on acting like a spoiled princess? Have you sat her down for a “serious discussion”? Did you corner Jim about how he makes it worse by getting on her case in all the wrong ways that won’t solve anything?”

Their expression had grown more stern. “Please, Trev,” his mom said. “We’re not just talking about personality quirks or sibling rivalry here. Deb’s been through serious trauma, and it really looks like—” she abruptly cut off. “No, sorry. You’re right, we’re not going to analyze her state of mind. We really do just want to ask some questions and have you seriously consider them.”

Trev sat. He loved and respected his parents, and he knew they had his best interests at heart. But he really, really wasn’t a fan of this situation. The best he could do was sit and wait for her to continue.