Nathan Jones - First Winter

“You’re doing it again, Dear,” his aunt said quietly.

He heard Lucas chuckle, which became a short bout of wheezing and a single explosive cough. “You’re going to have to be much more specific.”

She refused to relent to his banter. “You know what. Shouldering all the burden. Keeping your worries to yourself because you don’t want us to have to face them. It’s not what I signed up for.”

Trev exchanged uncomfortable looks with the other two. Either his aunt and uncle thought they were speaking quietly enough or they thought Trev had already gone home and Lewis and Jane were asleep. Still, it was awkward to overhear. Should he try to make a quiet escape without disturbing them?

His uncle sighed. “I’m not really keeping them to myself. They’re the same worries we’re all sharing, so it would be pointless to bring them up.”

“Do it anyway.”

There was a long pause. “The boys were optimistic, and I’m not discounting their knowledge. They’ve learned a lot that’s going to help us. But at the same time they’re very, very lucky. Things could’ve gone so wrong for them, and they wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.”

Eva made a disapproving sound. “You’re not giving them enough credit.”

Another sigh. “No, I’m giving them as much credit as I possibly could. That’s the problem. Last winter was harsh, and it killed a lot of unprepared people. But what we’re facing now? This is the type of winter that kills even the well prepared. Our son and nephew might be the best qualified people alive to survive what’s coming, and even they could still end up dead. All it takes is one thing going wrong, one disaster we didn’t see coming happening at the wrong time.”

“Then see them coming. There’s no one I know better at that than you. Something might go wrong. Tragedy might strike, God forbid. But if it does, at least we know it wasn’t because we didn’t do all we could to be ready for it.”

Lucas’s only answer was another coughing fit. When he stopped Eva’s voice was concerned. “The fits aren’t as bad right now. Try to get some sleep while you can. You haven’t been getting nearly enough. Or eating.”

“It’s not as bad as you make it sound,” his uncle replied firmly. “Once the coughing eases up I’ll be able to eat better and get more proper sleep.”

“Visit Terry and Dr. Langstrom again,” she insisted.

He chuckled, which turned into several seconds of wheezing he struggled to get under control. “They don’t have enough symptoms to work with, or any equipment to diagnose me. A simple cough could be too many things.”

“This cough is feeling less and less simple, Luke. I’m worried. Drinking lots of water doesn’t seem to be helping. Maybe we should have you try breathing steam.”

“Maybe. We can talk about it in the morning. Goodnight, Dear.”

A long pause. “Goodnight.”

After another exchange of uncomfortable looks Trev pulled on his coat and boots and nodded goodnight to Lewis and Jane. They nodded back, quietly shutting off the lights as he slipped out the door.

He could’ve done without hearing his normally confident uncle express doubts about their chances. And he was really worried about his cough. Sure, other people in town were coughing, sniffling, and suffering the other ailments that came with cold. And his uncle kept himself in good shape and had rarely been sick.

Still, he worried. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of the Halsson family was going through.

The day dawned very windy, with a noticeably higher temperature. Trev knew enough about weather to know that wasn’t a good sign.

“The warm before the storm,” his mom said as she handed him some jerky on his way out the door to do his chores.

“Rain, I hope,” Trev said. “Even facing nuclear winter and at a slightly higher elevation, it’s not even the middle of October and we usually don’t see snow until late December.”

“Well we can’t go with what we usually see, since this is the first time the world’s faced the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust, and even the best predictions might not be accurate.” His mom’s lips thinned in a worried line. “Although I’m hoping for rain, too. We’ve still got so much to do to prepare.”

He gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek. “Speaking of which, I’ll probably be out most of the day hunting and scouting good spots for firewood. See you at the party tonight.”

“Be careful,” she called reflexively as he closed the door.

Deb was already waiting nearby, equipped to head out as soon as they finished doing chores together, and he felt his mood lighten as he made his way over to her. She pulled him into a brief, somewhat hesitant hug, which he certainly enjoyed while it lasted.

“Ready to get started?” she asked.

He nodded. “The sooner the better. Not only do we have Mary’s party to get home to, but I don’t want to be caught out there if this storm blows in early.”

Chores were routine by now. The company was pleasant, at least, and they finished quickly. Then they grabbed their packs and set off to the southeast. This was a less traveled direction, and with a bit of a hike they could make their way down from the mountains into the foothills, where Trev hoped the game would be more plentiful. Those slopes were also densely overgrown with scrub oak, and they also brought along sacks to harvest as many acorns as possible.

That would be a priority whether or not they found any game, since acorn flour would make a decent stable once the tannins were properly leeched out.

It turned out to be a good thing they set out with that goal in mind, because hunting was a bust. Between the cold driving game down into the valley, the refugees who’d been tromping around the area scaring everything away, and the fact that Aspen Hill residents might’ve already overhunted the area, he didn’t see any good opportunities. Not even any critters or varmints worth putting in a pot.

On the other hand acorns were plentiful, to the point where it would probably be a good idea to talk to Matt about directing foragers this way. At the very least he was going to organize an expedition with as many members of the shelter group as possible to unleash their inner squirrel. This was something the older kids could do too, a way for them to be useful. But for now he and Deb filled their sacks to bulging and started home, backs hunched under the weight.

“Is it true your aunt baked a cake?” she asked as they toiled up a slope, sweat streaming down their faces that was quickly swept away by the strong winds.

Trev smiled slightly. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The dark-haired woman gave him a level look. “Never joke around where cake is concerned. I might just have to stab you with my fork.”

“What would you do if I told you the cake was a li—”

“Don’t!” she snapped, although she was obviously trying not to smile. “That line’s been used to death.”

“Too bad the internet’s not around to give us any more fond memories.”

Deb’s smile finally broke free. “Maybe we could build our own little internet using string and all these acorn caps, like those telephones every kid’s made at some point.”

His own smile turned into a grin. “Okay we definitely need to get some cake in you, because that’s talking nuts.”

She groaned. “That was a pun worthy of Alvin.”

The climb turned too strenuous for banter at that point, but the silence was companionable as they continued. As they got closer to town they waved a greeting to the defender on sentry duty and got a wave in return. Trev stopped in to chat with the man, mostly to help relieve his boredom after long hours standing watch, before they continued on.