Nathan Jones - Determination

“And lots more guns that use it,” Trev answered. “More than we have ammo for. Besides, the valley refuge is lacking other supplies we might be able to get.”

“True,” the retired teacher agreed. “Let’s see if Lewis wants to trade, and what.” He bent back over the disassembled rifle, focusing on his work.

At least until Rick approached, waving. “Hey Dad, aren’t you going to join us?”

The retired teacher looked pointedly down at his amputated leg. “Really?”

The younger man grinned. “Oh don’t give me that. You’re getting around just fine on your crutches these days. And you know I’ve been working on carving a prosthetic for you.”

Chauncey sighed and set the rifle part he was holding back onto the cloth, reaching for his crutches. “I suppose so. As long as you’ve got a camp chair for me.”

Rick’s grin widened, and he winked at Trev has he helped his dad to his feet and walked with him back towards camp. “I wanted to ask what you thought about Alice.”

It was Chauncey’s turn to smile, although he was trailing Rick enough that his son didn’t notice. “What about her? She lived with us for months, she’s not exactly a stranger.”

Trev caught the flush of embarrassment on the back of Rick’s neck. “I mean about Alice and me ,” his friend corrected.

It was Trev’s turn to grin as he watched father and son walk away. Then he glanced down at the weapons, and with a sigh sat down on the rock to finish maintenance on the rifle Chauncey had left half cleaned.

He wasn’t the only one getting serious. Lewis, who’d been off with Jane in their own world for the last few minutes, abruptly clapped his hands and shouted over the hubbub of the crowd. “All right, people! It’s early morning and we’ve got nowhere to be.”

There was a slightly confused pause at that, at least until his cousin continued a grin. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but nice as this little shindig is I’d rather move it to a valley a ways north of here, where all the rest of our friends and family happen to be waiting for us. I figure we can get there today if we push, even loaded down with supplies.”

Ben clapped his hands as well, in applause. “Hear, hear!” he called. That drew a shout of agreement from the volunteers, and more cheers.

Lewis looked around the mountain, a bit wistfully, then motioned to their camp. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Lewis had been exaggerating a bit when talking about loading them down with supplies.

That was thanks to the tractor, which they loaded down instead. First off they raised the backhoe enough to hang several tarp-wrapped bundles from it, then raised the bucket as high as possible as well and turned it upright to fill with even more of their stuff. Mostly the AK-47s and Grachs captured from the blockheads, wrapped in tent cloth and spare clothing and stacked carefully on top of full ammo boxes and extra magazines.

It wasn’t enough to hold everything, and more of their weapons and supplies packed every spare inch of space in the cab right up to the roof, which was also stacked high with bundles of supplies. By the time they got the tractor loaded up they were easily able to stow their remaining stuff in their packs, making a lighter load than usual.

With Lewis and the other squad leaders’ approval, Trev had approached Harmon about trading the weapons they no longer had ammo for, making a good deal with the sergeant. That was thanks to the fact that the military had used up the majority of their fuel, so their forces would mostly be chasing the blockheads on foot. Which meant that any supplies they couldn’t lug on their backs or on a few supply trucks were getting left behind.

Most of those supplies were things like the larger tents, bundles of tarps and sandbags, and other empty bags and boxes, the majority of which would be going to the refugee camps. There were also the various odds and ends the soldiers, as well as the volunteers who’d be going with them, had collected and were now forced to leave behind, along with the more permanent accommodations they’d built.

Harmon agreed that the Aspen Hill volunteers could have first pick of all that stuff in exchange for three dozen M16s, two dozen 1911s, most of the spare magazines for the weapons, and the three missile launchers they no longer had a use for.

Trev had to consider how much they could manage to carry with them, but he was also conscious of what the townspeople had “donated” to the military. And he couldn’t forget the hardships the coming winter would bring. So his first priority was canvas and any other cloth he could find.

While he was picking through the growing pile of items to be left behind he heard a call, and looked up to see Vernon and a few of his men approaching. Even after their partial reconciliation Trev still tensed up slightly at the sight of the former sheriff. But he waved as he straightened, waiting for them to arrive.

“Doing some scavenging?” Vernon asked.

“Trading,” Trev replied. “Whatever we can manage to carry with us back home.”

“Ah, home.” The older man’s mouth twisted slightly in bitterness. “It’s a nice thing to have.”

Something about the way Vernon said it made Trev want to lash out, to remind him that Aspen Hill had been burned to the ground when the blockheads left, along with every other town. But he held himself back. “What are your plans?” he asked instead.

The former sheriff shrugged. “We’ll go with the military. We don’t have a community to return to, and none of us fancies trying our luck in the refugee camps.” His expression hardened. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind getting a few more shots at the blockheads. I can’t save the people of Newtown from what happened to them, but I can at least avenge them.”

“Fair enough.” Trev offered his hand. “Take care, Vernon.”

The man hesitated just a moment before shaking. “You too, Smith. All our problems aside, you’re a decent man. I hope things turn out better for your town than they did for mine.” He hesitated. “As a personal favor, when you see Debra maybe you could…”

He trailed off, and Trev waited patiently for a few seconds. “Could… ?” he finally supplied.

“Never mind. She’s not interested in hearing anything from me.” With a wry twist of his lips Vernon reached into his pocket and pulled out his sheriff’s badge, offering it. “Here. Aspen Hill will be better off with an honest lawman looking out for it.”

Trev accepted the gift, although he had to laugh. “You’re giving this to the wrong person. I’ll pass it along to Matt for you.”

“As you like.” The former sheriff motioned curtly and started off, his companions following close at his heels.

Trev looked down at the badge, then pocketed it with a shrug and got back to sorting through the junk for anything useful. He found a tightly wadded bundle of dirty sheets and immediately pounced on it, kicking it over to the small pile of canvas and spare clothing he’d accumulated.

Not far away Davis and his people were making their preparations to leave. While bargaining with Harmon the sergeant hadn’t mentioned giving back any of the vehicles or supplies Aspen Hill had contributed, but Trev had made it a point to head off any awkwardness on the issue by assuring him that the military needed them more.

Still, he couldn’t help but watch the trucks being loaded with a bit of wistfulness, thinking of how much more the Aspen Hill volunteers could take with them if they had even one. They’d be able to scavenge the sandbags from the abandoned emplacements, collect every spare log, scrap of lumber, and bit of furniture, and scoop up a bunch of other things that were being left behind.