Nathan Jones - First Winter

When he shifted channels all he heard on the defender line was a confused babble of panicked voices, Deb’s loudest and least coherent among them. Then Trev burst away from the wall he was leaning against and sprinted north out of town, awkwardly unslinging his rifle to hold it as he ran.

“What’s going on?” Matt yelled after him.

His friend didn’t even slow. “Radio!” he shouted over his shoulder, nearly tripping on a buried rock. Even that didn’t check his pace, and he was soon a hundred yards away and still sprinting flat out.

Matt toggled his mic, speaking firmly to cut through the chatter. “Matt here. What’s going on?”

The radio crackled with the static of an incoming transmission, but all Matt heard was heavy breathing. Then Deb sucked in a noisy breath and he realized the brown-haired woman was fighting intense emotions as well as being seriously winded. “My patrol… attacked two… northwest of town,” she panted, “just past… one rise close… valley’s western ridge. I got away but-but…” she trailed off into sobs, finally forcing out a few final words. “I’m the only one. I need help.”

Considering Trev was currently running off on his own, that left Matt to organize an actual team to counter this threat. Not that he blamed his friend. He swapped over to the town channel. “Gutierrez?” No answer: the man had probably already swapped. Matt switched back to the defender channel. “Gutierrez?”

“Gathering a team to kill the SOBs who murdered Brandon and the others,” the former soldier replied tersely. “As a start. Find who you can and meet us at the edge of town.”

Matt turned and ran for the shelter group’s cabins. He needed his body armor and other gear, and he’d pick up Terry to check on Deb and April to offer a comforting female presence, as well as Lewis, Jane, and whoever else was handy there.

Even focusing on his immediate goals wasn’t enough to take his mind from the ramifications. Deb was the only one who’d got away, which meant the rest of her patrol had been killed. Four good men, friends, ambushed and murdered while trying to protect their home.

He could understand why Gutierrez wanted to murder the men who’d killed his friend, and anyone else who got in his way. But as Mayor Matt couldn’t afford to lose control of the situation and allow the town to cross the line in retaliation for this atrocity.

Although those who’d killed his people would see justice.

Trev didn’t think he’d ever sprinted a mile in better time, and mostly uphill to boot.

It wasn’t rational, since the entire time common sense had been yammering away at the back of his mind that he’d still have another mile to go after he collapsed from exhaustion. That or if he was in good enough shape to make it the entire way he’d be too exhausted to help Deb at the end of it. But he couldn’t help himself.

He hadn’t wanted to take a break from seeing Deb because he’d miss her, but just as much he’d worried something like this would happen. Her work volunteering to defend the town wasn’t exactly safe, as today’s events proved, and one of the main comforts of having her in that role before all this was that he was usually with her.

Only now he wasn’t, when she needed him most.

His panicked mind had failed to account for the fact that Deb would also be running towards him, so he was just catching his second wind when he crested the western ridge of the valley and saw her not far away. At the sight of him she collapsed in relief, curling up on the ground sobbing.

As Trev closed the distance to her he searched the area for potential threats. None were visible, but as soon as he reached Deb he still crouched on her northern side to shield her with his body. He really wanted to throw his arms around her, as much at his own relief at seeing she was okay as to reassure her. And from the way she rolled towards him and clung to his shins she probably wanted that reassurance too. Then again, this sort of traumatic event might trigger previous trauma and touching her would be the worst thing he could do.

“I’m here,” he said as gently as he could through his panting.

“Thank God,” she mumbled. “The others, Trev. I-I couldn’t…” her words dissolved into gasping sobs again.

He shifted to glance around quickly again. They were too exposed here. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you to a spot with more cover. Is that okay?” She nodded emphatically, so he slung his rifle and carefully scooped her into his arms. Her pack made that awkward, and she nearly whacked him in the face with the MP-443 Grach she still held in a white-knuckled grip when he looped her arm around his neck. But finally he got a stable hold on her, and as she buried her face in his chest he pushed to his feet on rubbery legs and looked around.

There was a dip in the ground that ran through some sage bushes nearby. He quickly made his way over to it and deposited her in the most covered spot he could find. Then he crouched over her and unslung his rifle, using the scope to pan the area as he toggled his headset mic. “I’ve got Deb safe for now.”

Matt’s voice came back strong with hints of exertion from running. “Good. We’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

Trev looked down at Deb. She’d barely responded to his voice when he’d been talking over the radio. Shock? “Are you hurt?” he asked her in a low, soothing tone.

She nodded. “He kicked me around a little before I managed to get away. Nothing serious, I think.”

He felt a flash of rage at that: whoever did that to the woman he cared about would certainly get what was coming to him. But for now he needed to worry about her. Getting her talking might help shake her out of her shock. “How about you holster that?”

Deb blinked and uncurled slightly, looking at the pistol still clutched in her hand. She managed a weak smile as she fumbled to return it to its concealed holster. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to swing it around like a madwoman this time.”

She was obviously talking about just after he’d rescued her from the blockheads, when she’d come within an inch of shooting Fred Vernon as vengeance for him abandoning Newtown and indirectly causing her situation. Trev relaxed slightly, deciding that if she could manage humor she was probably not in too bad shape.

“If you’re feeling up to it you can tell me what happened,” he said. When she flinched slightly he hastily added. “No need to go into details.”

Nodding, Deb haltingly related approaching the camp, the argument Brandon had with the four men there which distracted the patrol from the bandits charging them from the copse, and how by the time they realized the danger it was too late. She skimmed over her own escape, which he didn’t blame her for.

“The man you talked to at the fire was bruised?” Trev asked partway through.

The brown-haired woman started to nod, then froze as realization dawned in her eyes. “The refugee you headbutted!” Her face crumpled in guilt and anguish. “So he was shoot on sight. I thought the bruise was important but I couldn’t remember why. If I’d just remembered I could’ve warned the others. They’d still be alive. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault but the men who did this,” Trev said firmly. “Although it can be a good lesson about paying attention to important details. Keep going.”

By the time she finished her account Matt, Dr. Langstrom, Terry, April, Lewis, Jane, Gutierrez, Rick, Lucas, and more than a dozen others had arrived. At Deb’s direction Gutierrez led most to the rise overlooking the ambush spot so they could investigate the scene, along with Langstrom to check on the other members of the patrol and see if there was anything he could do for them. Although nobody had much hope there.