Nathan Jones - First Winter

Last time Ed had been the one leading them out after a clear dismissal. This time he held his ground, although it wasn’t easy. “You say you’ve heard from Major Rogers, patrols in the area, and testimony from the refugees. Which means you’ve heard every side of the issue but Aspen Hill’s. Last time you told us you’d give us a fair hearing.”

To his credit Grimes at least waited until he finished. Then he thundered “Out!” and pointed a quivering finger at the door.

This time Ed wasted no time joining the others in complying. They didn’t exactly scurry, but they didn’t take their time leaving, either. Once out in the waiting room they hurried through the headquarters building and made a beeline for their mule. Ed was glad they were already carrying all their possessions with them and were ready to go.

True to his word Grimes provided them with fuel. A full tank and an extra five gallon can, too, which was enough to make the trip both ways. Under the circumstances that was pretty generous.

They didn’t leave the camp immediately, since there were a few trade deals to finalize, but within the hour they were driving towards the rising sun, troubled thoughts turned to home and exactly what the blazes was going on there.

“We’ve got more coming in, Trev. Six of them from the north.”

That was Derek Withers, the veteran who’d lost his entire right leg, speaking over the radio where he was taking a shift to give Chauncey a much needed break. Since the retired teacher with his own partially amputated leg could sympathize with the man, he’d taken him under his wing so to speak. So far it seemed to be working well, although Trev secretly suspected Chauncey hadn’t really minded camping out the radio most hours of the day.

Which was neither here nor there.

Trev sighed. He’d been about to sit down to dinner, but it looked like he’d be taking it with him. “They trying to sneak in?” he asked as he grabbed a few strips of jerky and started gathering his gear.

“Emphasis on trying, since Tod saw them coming from a ways off,” Derek replied. He didn’t sound amused though; they’d been through too much of this in the last four days since turning the refugees away.

“All right. Brandon?”

Brandon Shanks was one of the freed prisoners who’d been in Gutierrez’s squad during the fight against the blockheads, and the two had become good friends. At the retired soldier’s recommendation the man was leading one of the morning shift’s roving five-man patrols, which Trev had put together a couple days ago to turn back these small groups of intruders that tried to sneak into Aspen Hill or hang around hassling townspeople in the area. Going by the schedule the older man’s patrol was closest to where the interlopers were coming in.

“No go,” Brandon replied. “Raul’s got us responding to a sighting of a few guys setting up camp west of here, just inside our perimeter. On our way out there now.”

Trev felt a moment of worry, since Deb was part of Brandon’s patrol. At least their task didn’t sound like anything too dangerous, and at Gutierrez’s request Brandon had personally promised Trev he’d look out for her. She should be fine.

Should be. He sighed. “All right, Brandon, be careful. Derek, tell Tod I’ll bring out some people to turn his group back. Have him stay out of sight and report on their movement.”

“He’s on it,” the veteran replied after fifteen or so seconds. By that time Trev was out the door and jogging towards the town hall tent.

He hurriedly rounded up a handful of the defenders there, who’d been hanging out making themselves available in case of trouble. They were technically taking a break from the day’s work to eat dinner, but the way things had been going most of his people took their breaks at the tent in case they were called to an emergency.

Everyone there already had their gear ready, and it didn’t take more than a couple minutes to get them all moving north up the canyon at a jog.

In the last four days the situation with the displaced refugees had steadily worsened, and these attempts to sneak into town were only a part of it. Just as Trev and the town leaders had feared, many of the scattered groups turned to banditry within days, attacking travelers or isolated residents of local towns and camps. The attacks started off minor, but over time they grew bolder and more brutal, especially once the newly formed bandit groups realized the military wasn’t doing anything to stop them.

This was the latest of a dozen times someone or someones had tried to make their way into town, usually by stealth. Trev wasn’t sure why they thought they’d get away with it even if they had managed to slip past his sentries, which none had. Aspen Hill was a tight-knit community, and even though several hundred people lived there most were at least familiar with the faces of their neighbors. There was no chance strangers skulking around wouldn’t be immediately seen and challenged.

At which point a good portion of the town was armed, so the intruders wouldn’t have much choice but to give up and let themselves be arrested.

Usually the would-be infiltrators were simply escorted three miles out of town in a direction of their choice, to the perimeter Trev had set up, with a warning that further attempts to enter town would be met with harsher treatment. While most reluctantly put their backs to Aspen Hill, and thankfully none had turned violent, a few had tried to rush past the defenders and flee into town, hoping they wouldn’t be stopped.

They were wrong. The patrols assigned to turn them back had been issued pepper spray and batons and even a few stun guns to be used if needed, and they were. Trev supposed that wasn’t winning the town any friends among the displaced refugees, and in fact it seemed like the attacks were escalating over time. Although that was just as likely due to the scattered groups of men growing increasingly desperate because of cold and hunger.

Either way the military was keeping dead silent on the matter, and the people of Aspen Hill weren’t the only ones in the area getting more and more angry about that. Trev didn’t know if it was incompetence or malicious intent, but if Rogers or his superiors didn’t step in soon people were going to end up dead. If some hadn’t already without him knowing.

But none of them would be the townspeople under his protection, if Trev had anything to say about it.

His group traveled for roughly a half hour up the canyon, traversing the steep, treacherous terrain alongside the stream, before they caught sight of the intruders. When they did Trev groaned. “These guys again?”

It was a group that Trev had already turned back, one of the ones that’d tried to rush past into town instead of leaving. He would’ve thought the faceful of pepper spray he and his patrol had dished out a couple days ago would’ve kept them from coming back, but apparently they were too stubborn or desperate to get the hint.

Two were carrying crude spears, one just a stick with a sharpened end and the other with a small knife ludicrously tied to the end of a long haft. Another carried a hatchet, while the other three made do with thick sticks for clubs and stones large enough he wouldn’t want one chucked at his head.

In other words, enough to be a threat but not enough to be a real one, with his people all wearing body armor and carrying AK-47s. “Form up,” he said quietly, taking out his pepper spray. Weapons or not, he’d try nonlethal first.

His group fanned out as best they could on the awkward slope, clearing firing lines and pulling out their own pepper spray. The interlopers caught sight of them and their steps turned more wary, but they didn’t stop.