Nathan Jones - First Winter

“Didn’t we already do this?” Trev called. The refugees kept coming. Trev judged they could go a couple dozen more feet before he’d consider them close enough to pose a danger if they charged, but also close enough to be shot with pepper spray. “Stop now,” he said more sharply.

They didn’t. “You’ve got food, we need it,” the closest one snapped, hefting his spear. “You think blinding us for a few minutes is going to stop us?”

Trev reluctantly put his pepper spray away and unslung his rifle, although he motioned for the rest of his group to keep their deterrents out as he raised his weapon to point at the man. “It had better. The alternative is less pleasant.”

“You don’t have the stones,” the refugee snapped. He broke into a charge, lifting his spear and throwing it as he came.

It would’ve hit Trev if he didn’t leap aside, and other members of his group cursed as rocks fell among them, a few connecting. The lead refugee had pulled out a knife and was moving low and fast to close on Trev so he could use it.

Then streams of spray flew out from the defenders to converge on the charging men. Most were on point, hitting faces or narrowly missing, and three went down coughing. The leader was one still coming, and Trev reluctantly aimed for his legs and fired off a few shots.

He missed every one. By the time he swapped up to aim for his assailant’s chest the man was nearly on top of him, and he also missed that hasty shot before being forced to brace to deflect the incoming knife with his weapon.

In the brief flurry that followed Trev was nearly tackled off his feet. If he hadn’t spent so long practicing grappling and boxing with Lewis last winter, and infrequently since then, he probably would’ve been. Instead he managed to sidestep and brace his feet, throw the man’s knife wide, and slam his helmeted forehead into his assailant’s face.

The interloper went down hard and stayed down, cursing, as Trev covered him with his rifle. He was also pretty ticked, but more at himself than at his attacker.

There was a reason that, as far as he knew, every military and law enforcement had a policy of aiming center mass at credible threats. Moving targets were hard enough to hit as it was, and a determined enemy could close on you fast and shrug off minor injuries. Then once they were close enough they could knock your gun aside or get around it, and then you lost the advantage of having it and were fighting for your life close quarters against whatever weapon the enemy had.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone he didn’t have to, but it was stupid to go any easier on this displaced refugee with a knife than he would’ve on a blockhead in the same situation. He could’ve wound up dead for his troubles.

A brief look around showed that a couple of his defenders had pinned the other two who hadn’t been hit with spray and were getting out zip ties to bind them, while the rest of his group cautiously approached the coughing, red-eyed displaced refugees farther back to disarm and take into custody.

Trev slung his rifle and rolled the man over onto his stomach, driving a knee into the small of his back to hold him down as he pulled out his own zip ties. “You seriously shouldn’t have come back.”

The leader cursed as his hands were yanked together to be bound. “What’re you going to do, spank us and send us off like naughty boys? You’re not going to kill us just for trying to get into your town, and if you put us in jail at least we can expect three square meals a day.”

That was unfortunately a good question. Trev wasn’t about to let people who violently attacked his defenders go free to do it again, maybe with more success next time. And now that the military was sticking their noses in Aspen Hill’s business the town’s policy for dealing with violent attackers would probably get them in even more trouble, assuming the town’s judges found this attack to be enough justification to execute the prisoners.

All he could do was bring them in and see what Matt and the others wanted to do. He didn’t envy his friend the decision.

What a mess.

Matt was waiting when they entered town with the six men. Trev had filled him in on the situation over the radio on the way back. The intruders hadn’t admitted where they were from, but Lewis had scouted out a camp several miles northwest of town with a hundred or so displaced refugees in it. They didn’t know much about the place, and so far none of the men there had done much roaming south in their direction, but when Trev mentioned the camp to his prisoners a few jerked in guilty recognition.

Not enough to confirm anything, but Trev guessed that was where these guys had come from.

“We’ll lock them in a spare cabin for now,” Matt said, motioning. “I’ve already secured one.”

Trev was only too happy to follow as his friend led the way. Aside from cursing from the prisoners they worked in silence to get them situated in the bare, dirt-floored structure. The door was sturdy and had a hasp and padlock, though, and with the men’s arms still bound and a few defenders watching them they shouldn’t be a problem.

At least short term. “What do we do with them?” Trev asked.

Matt gave him a crooked smile. “I guess we contact the military and have them come take them away.”

They all shared a good laugh at that. The military wasn’t doing anything, and this wasn’t about to be the incident that made them start.

Then his friend sobered up and sighed. “Still, I will have Chauncey radio the proper authorities to inform them about this. At least then if they ignore us we have some excuse for dealing with it ourselves.”

“Which will be how?” one of the defenders demanded. “If we warn them they’ll be shot on sight if they come back they won’t believe us… they’ve already come back once even after we pepper sprayed them. Sure, I have no problem actually shooting this trash, but a bunch of dead idiots isn’t going to help the town.”

Matt sighed again. “We’ll talk it over. Trev?”

Trev followed his friend into the town hall tent, where he chatted with Derek while Matt gathered up a few of the other leaders. Chauncey arrived not long after that and took over from the veteran, radioing in about the attack and asking what the town should do with the attackers.

By the time the town leaders had gathered the retired teacher still hadn’t heard any response back, to nobody’s surprise.

The brief but heated debate that followed went around in circles. Everyone agreed something needed to be done with the prisoners, everyone agreed that the military looming over them made simple solutions awkward, and nobody had any suggestions on what to do going forward. If they kept the men imprisoned for the time being they’d have to feed them, and nobody wanted to do that.

Finally Lewis gave the tactless but unfortunately probably best solution under the circumstances. “I guess we shove guns in their faces until they piss themselves, then toss them out with a warning that we won’t just threaten next time.”

Trev could imagine the military wouldn’t be thrilled about that if they heard, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself. Not to mention the idiots had come back after one painful warning. Still, there didn’t seem to be a better option.

At the very least it was a bit satisfying to haul the intruders out of the impromptu jail and line them up on their knees while his men formed up with weapons ready. A few really did wet themselves, and from the smell one might’ve lost control of his bowels when Trev ordered his men to raise weapons and take aim.

Then he waved the rifles down and stomped forward to lean over the leader, who didn’t look quite as intimidated as the others. “If you come within three miles of this place again,” he said in a voice just loud enough for all the prisoners to hear, “we’ll shoot you before you even know we’re there. Got it?”