Nathan Jones - Determination

Homecoming

At Catherine’s request Matt agreed to accompany Scott up to the refuge for Carl’s funeral.

He was grateful for the chance to pay his final respects to his friend, although the Aspen Hill volunteers also held their own quiet gathering for him and the others who’d died once they heard the news. But at the same time he had a feeling the Mayor wanted him up there for more than moral support.

Trev seemed fine with taking over for him while he was gone, which was a relief. His friend’s spirits had recovered a bit as he sank back into the routine of patrolling and scouting, and Matt couldn’t help but notice that Trev also pushed himself and the others on duty to ever greater vigilance. As he put it he didn’t want a so much as rabbit to bolt for its hole, anywhere on the mile-long slope they watched, without being noticed.

“You’ll check in on Lewis, right?” his friend asked as Matt and Scott packed up their things. Catherine had obliquely suggested they might be up there long enough to need them. “And the rest of my family?”

Matt nodded. “I’d do that anyway.” He clapped Trev on the shoulder. “Chauncey says Terry’s confident he’ll be fine. And I’m sure everyone else is, too.”

He and the older man set off for the main camp, waving to acknowledge requests from other squad mates to pass on messages of their own to loved ones back home, and sympathies to those who’d lost loved ones that morning. And a more quiet plea from Alice to keep an eye out for Pete.

There was a lot more traffic along 31 with refugees pouring in from the north, and that had led to an increase in military vehicles coming and going. When Matt radioed in that they were headed north, one of Harmon’s dispatchers from the main camp replied that a truck was headed that way soon. They’d hold the vehicle until Matt and Scott could get there.

It would be driving past a fair distance from the refuge, so they’d still have several miles to walk along the canyon road, but compared to going on foot all the way from camp it was a generous offer. And the dispatcher hinted that, with the military camp being set up next to the refuge, they might encounter some vehicle traffic to take them the rest of the way. Or at least company on the road as they walked, from soldiers marching to their new assignment.

The truck was still there when they reached the highway, a smaller pickup with its back open to the sky. Several soldiers lounged around it chatting, but as soon as they saw Matt and Scott they piled into the vehicle. Matt hopped in the back after three of them, then reached down to offer Scott a hand up.

“Sorry to hold you up,” he said as they settled on the lifted tailgate, arranging their legs over the supplies piled in the bed. The truck was already lurching into motion beneath them, the wind picking up and turning the day from slightly warm to slightly chilly.

The soldier to his right, who looked to be in his late teens, waved that off. “Any excuse to take a break that doesn’t come back on us is fine with me.” He glanced around the forested slopes as they rumbled up the highway. “You guys are locals, right? Nice view you’ve got around here.”

“Thanks.” Matt caught his balance as they went over a bump; if he wasn’t careful he might end up flipping backwards and splatting on the road. “Have you guys been busy with the evacuation?”

The soldier to Scott’s left, also in his late teens, laughed and spoke loudly over the roar of the wind. “Dude, you have no idea. Just wait, you’ll see soon enough.”

The man was right. They didn’t have to go far before encountering a vast tide of refugees. Hundreds, even thousands in view at all times, blocking both lanes and walking on the shoulders as they headed south. Or more like tottering in most cases, clutching meager bundles of possessions and struggling for every step. Of all ages and from all walks of life, as many were resting on the roadside as moving, and those in the truck’s path only sluggishly parted to make way.

Some called questions, asking for news, and others begged food or other necessities. A few even asked to ride along, despite the fact that the vehicle was going the other way.

“They’ve already managed to make it this far south?” Matt asked quietly, incredulous. Even if these people had been undergoing a forced march, moving nonstop ever since leaving their camps in the Wasatch Range, he didn’t see how it was possible they could’ve walked this far.

The soldier to his right shook his head. “Nah, that’s not how General Erikson is handling the evacuation. These guys are from the camps near Fairview. The General’s relocating them so the people he’s bringing in can occupy that space.”

“Where are they going?” Scott asked. He was a bit gray in the face, same as he’d been ever since getting hit by the news of his son-in-law’s death. At least he hadn’t withdrawn into himself.

The young man shrugged. “From what I hear General Lassiter has been diverting as many people and resources as he can, to building new camps in time to take in these evacuees. Although they’ll probably end up sleeping under the stars or beneath tarps for a while, and if they were hoping for rest they’ll be disappointed. They’ll need to help build their new homes and get the camps livable.”

“Any of them have a problem with that?” Matt asked. He knew he’d be pissed if he was told to march south while strangers took his home, especially if he couldn’t expect anything at the end of that journey.

The soldier closest to the cab snorted. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I’m glad I drew supply run duty instead of being one of the unlucky SOBs who has to herd these beggars around, making sure they all get where they’re going in one piece.” As if to demonstrate he waved as they passed a group of four soldiers walking among the refugees. The men waved back, looking a bit resentful.

Matt didn’t share the apparent humor. He’d been on the other end of the situation, and he knew what it was like to be one of the “beggars”.

Their going was slow through the crowd of refugees, and slowed down even more every time they encountered a vehicle coming the other way. Matt soon got used to the driver’s impatient honks as they inched along at barely ten miles an hour. Although he constantly had to remind himself that if they weren’t in the truck, they’d be lucky to be going a quarter that pace.

Matt didn’t even need to tell the driver to stop when they reached the canyon road. He just nodded goodbye to the soldiers and vaulted over the side of the still-moving truck, stumbling slightly from the weight of his pack as he landed. Then he ran next to the vehicle so Scott could hand down his own pack, and a moment later the older man joined him on the ground.

There were a few soldiers lounging by a makeshift roadblock across the road, who nodded as the two of them approached. “I’m guessing you’re not refugees,” one said, looking over their gear. “Irregulars?”

Matt nodded. “What’s all this?” he asked, pointing at the jumble of logs.

The soldier shrugged. “We’ve already got two thousand people filling up the accommodations along this road. Aside from special cases we’re turning everyone else away.”

Two thousand. That was almost three times Aspen Hill’s population. And the refuge had been struggling to begin with. “Special cases?”

Another shrug. “It’s a pretty quiet, out of the way place. Good place for a few treatment wards.” The man straightened and motioned to his companions, who quickly began tossing logs off the road. “Speaking of which…”

Matt followed his gaze north along the highway, to where another truck was headed their way. This one had a solid shell over the back and was more boxy. It also had the easily recognizable symbol of the Army Medical Corps on the sides. “Treatment?”