Nathan Jones - Determination

“You did your best with him,” he said for Matt’s benefit. “Pete made his own decisions, and I suppose they were his to make. Hopefully he found a situation that’s working better for him, and he’s had a chance to get whatever healing he needs from everything he’s been through.”

“I hope so.” Matt abruptly turned to nudge him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what, I’m sick of just watching this party. Let’s get back to it.”

Trev grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

Lewis met them as they rejoined the others, looking at the badge on Trev’s chest. “We have a new Sheriff in town?”

“I guess so. You’ll give me a hand though, right?”

“Two, when I’ve got the time.”

“Hey, don’t go volunteering all your time away,” Lucas said with mock sternness from the fence around the goat pen where he was sitting, favoring his leg. “We’ve still got nuclear winter to survive.”

Lewis gave his dad a lopsided smile. “Piece of cake. As bad as this winter is going to be, down here in the valley it might not be any worse than me and Trev spending last winter up in the mountains. We managed to survive through that well enough, with nothing worse to show for it than a bit of cabin fever, and a deadened sense of smell from a small space rank with B.O.”

Trev did his best to smile back. Things weren’t the same at all, not when they had their family and the rest of the shelter group to worry about as well. Not to mention the town in general. He’d done his best to gather up cloth and canvas for winter clothing and extra blankets, but as it stood people would have to share winter gear; not everyone would be set up to head out into the cold all at once if they needed to. And people would be doing plenty of snuggling together for body heat, even if they didn’t burn through their entire supply of firewood before the weather turned warm again.

And he’d definitely have to worry more about firewood and warm clothing than most, since he didn’t have anyone to snuggle with.

Without thinking he shot a quick glance at Deb, standing with the women and children from Jane’s group. The brown-haired woman was looking back at him, green eyes striking in direct sunlight. She smiled tentatively, and he felt his face flush as he smiled back and hastily looked away. She had lovely eyes, something he’d known for a while without realizing.

Those thoughts must’ve been around somewhere in the back of his mind, but until now he hadn’t even entertained the possibility of anything romantic with her. Assuming that was even what she wanted. It would have to be Deb’s decision when she was ready, if she ever was, and if it happened it would be a difficult path to travel together.

They both had their own wounds to heal from, and even with their growing friendship they were still relative strangers. He didn’t even know where she’d lived or what she’d done before the Gulf burned, or what her life in Newtown had been like. And in spite of the time they’d spent together neither had really opened up to the other, or shared any thoughts deeper than their current situation.

Still, that might be something to hope for from the future.

“We’ll figure it out,” his dad said, coming over to clap a hand on his and Lewis’s shoulders. “But let’s save worrying about that for tomorrow. The war’s over, we’ve defeated the threats facing the town, and we’re in a position to meet whatever challenges we encounter next.” He gently nudged them both towards the assortment of log cabins and stick-and-mud houses the shelter group had built. “Come on, we’ve got breakfast ready for you.”

Trev followed, feeling surprisingly content. He was more than happy to follow his dad’s advice, at least as far as pushing his worries to the back of his mind.

It had almost been a year since the Gulf refineries attack. A lot could change in that time; the world could change. But no matter what happened some things stayed the same. Trev had his family with him, and his friends, and the people of Aspen Hill around them.

All the hardships they’d suffered had only strengthened the ties of their community: the shortage of food and lack of a lot of what they’d been accustomed to, the Gold Bloc invasion, reclaiming their home from the enemies that had tried to take it. It had all fueled their determination to survive and prosper together.

Beyond that, they’d found within them a strength they hadn’t known they had. They’d learned to handle problems they couldn’t have even contemplated in their comfortable existence before the Gulf burned. It had been a hard process to go through, overcoming their weaknesses and facing the challenges of surviving with their integrity intact, and too many of them hadn’t made it. Trev wouldn’t have wished the survivors’ hardships on anyone, but in the end they’d come out better for it.

Nuclear winter was a daunting prospect, and their suffering was far from over. But Trev thought they were ready for it. Whatever the future brought, things would only improve from here.

Pete hissed slightly as he peeled back the bandage. It was sticking to his leg, and he had to spend almost a minute mustering his courage before he could tear it off in one go.

That opened the wound, of course. Why wouldn’t it? Fresh blood began trickling from the through and through, a stark contrast to the blackened crust of dried blood already there. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the rag out of the pot of boiling water he’d just removed from the fire, then slapped it down where the bandage had been.

For a moment his vision went white with pain, and he slumped back gasping against the tree he was sitting against. Maybe he shouldn’t have messed with the bandage, but it needed to be changed regularly, didn’t it? Anyway he’d also needed to make sure the wound wasn’t showing any signs of infection. It was swollen, sure, and throbbed with every heartbeat, but he hadn’t seen any of the ugly black veins that indicated blood poisoning.

Once he was able to move again he dropped the old bandage into the boiling water, watching the liquid go from clear to red from crusted blood. He poked at the stained cloth with a stick to clean it out as best he could, then lifted it free and hung it over one of his tent’s stake lines to dry. The tent itself he’d already taken down and packed away, just in case he needed to move, but the hanging line had been useful for keeping any cloth he sterilized away from dirty surfaces until he used it.

He never thought he’d make it this far, almost to the Colorado Rockies. But it turned out that once he’d managed to sneak past the front lines the blockheads got a lot less vigilant, confident they controlled the territory. It had given Pete plenty of opportunities to hit at them, although he’d had to pick his battles carefully to make sure he never bit off more than he could chew.

His friends all called him reckless, but he’d showed them. They’d be proud if they could see him now. He’d made it almost three hundred miles in about a month, going along Highway 191 then Highway 40, picking off blockheads as he went. He had to have taken out dozens by now, and none had ever gotten close to catching him as he fled or went to ground.

That is, up until those two yesterday. Who would’ve thought anyone would be that vigilant while taking a piss during a random rest stop? That guy’s off the cuff shot from almost three hundred yards had to have been pure luck. After all, nobody aimed for the thigh, did they? Thoracic cavity shots was what Pete had been taught.

At least the truck had driven off rather than sticking around to fight, giving him time to hastily bind the wound and limp his way out of there. And just as luckily he hadn’t seen a blockhead truck since. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the convoys were all driving east instead of west, now.