Nathan Jones - Shortage

Trev had done other digging that week, a much deeper hole at one end of a slightly larger hole with a ramp leading down to it where they’d put the outhouse. At the moment he was spreading a few final dabs of mud on the stick thatch he’d tied over the outhouse frame, both for insulation and to make the structure more sturdy. It was nearly the last touch to finish the structure.

The day was chilly and windy, with ominous clouds building to the northwest and around the mountainside above them, but Lewis had still made his way outside to sit on a camping chair with his leg propped up on one of the larger logs from the firewood pile watching Trev work. Both for the company and to get out of the cramped space in the lean-to for some fresh air.

After a bit of discussion they’d agreed to dig the entrance to the outhouse facing southwest, away from the prevailing winds. For the door Trev had built a simple log frame with a tarp wrapped around it., which would just sit in the opening and could be easily moved aside. To prepare for deeper snows he’d built another frame with more tarps, as sturdy as he could manage, to go over the ramp leading down to the outhouse and prevent it from getting snowed in. Using rope hinges he’d tied the top square of the frame so it could open upward like a cellar door, which would hopefully keep it accessible even during snowstorms.

The outhouse was constructed inside a copse of trees a bit north of the hideout that would further keep off the snow, as well as hiding it from unfriendly eyes, especially on the logging road above. It was also on a slope that curved the other way so any runoff would carry the refuse in the opposite direction of their home and the icehouse.

Trev finished slapping on another bit of mud near the peak of the conical roof, then threw the prepared plastic and tarp over the structure and nailed them to the log frame against the ground. With that final task complete he was happy to call the job done.

When he turned to get his cousin’s approval he found that Lewis was looking past him at the looming clouds. They were quickly darkening to an ugly color. “That’s looking like the first major snowstorm of the year,” his cousin said grimly.

He nodded and looked back at the outhouse. “We got this done just in time.”

“And thank goodness for that. If I had to lean back against a tree one more time because I can’t squat with this leg I’d be tempted to stop eating.” Lewis levered himself to his feet, grinning. “I’ve already got some rocks heating up on the stove, so if you don’t mind I think I’ll take it for a test drive.”

“Go for it,” Trev said, but he couldn’t share his cousin’s levity. Those clouds really bothered him because he’d never been through a major snowstorm on the mountains. And even if the weather cleared up a bit after the storm and the next one was a while in coming it meant the easy time they’d had fishing and gathering edible plants was over. It might drive deer farther down the mountain and into his sights, but then again it might’ve already done that and they were all in the valleys now, well out of reach.

They still had about 50lbs of meat from the buck Lewis had brought down, as well as another 30 or so of frozen trout. Most of the edible plants they’d foraged wouldn’t store well and they’d been eating them as they found them, but they did have a roughly 20lb bag of frozen currants from some bushes he’d found. They could hope to find more game even after the snows fell, but as far as Trev knew what they had would have to last them until the spring thaw.

He hoped it was enough.

By the time Lewis emerged from the outhouse, holding the heating rocks in his gloved hands, large flakes of snow had begun to fall in swift flurries. Higher up the mountain and farther north they could see signs of thicker snows already falling. His cousin looked up, blinking away a flake that landed in his eye, then sighed. “Better go bring as much firewood as you can manage to pile against the lean-to before the snow really starts falling. We’ll want it handy if this storm turns out to be as bad as it looks. Sorry I’m not in any shape to help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Trev said, hurrying ahead of his cousin towards the woodpile. As he was gathering his first load he also checked to make sure the icehouse was still locked. More to keep out any animals that came sniffing around than because he expected thieves to show up during the storm.

The snowfall quickly thickened from flurries to a constant howling blast that drove snow into his face and sent it swirling all around, to the point that everything beyond thirty or so feet became blurry silhouettes or was completely obscured. He managed to get in a dozen or so loads in ten minutes, piling them beside the door where they could be quickly retrieved, before he was forced to flee to the warm sanctuary of the lean-to.

The storm came in with him, bringing snow and noticeably chilling the room in the moments it took him to close the door. Trev dusted snow off his head and shoulders beside the stove, shivering slightly, and glanced over at his cousin. “We built a protected entry for the outhouse, but maybe we should think about one for the hideout too.”

Lewis snorted. He was reclined on his cot, scribbling in his journal. “I brought the tools in while you were gathering up wood. You’re welcome to get started on that right now if you want.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” Trev shucked off his winter gear and settled into one of the chairs in front of the stove. “So this storm could last anything from hours to days. What now?”

“Settle in, I guess.” His cousin tucked his pencil into his journal and closed it, then awkwardly moved over to the other chair. “I got some playing cards from Matt. Want to play Speed?”

Trev nodded, although he wasn’t exactly ecstatic at the suggestion. “This might be a boring winter.”

“Hopefully.” Lewis’s expression darkened. “Shame about the terabytes of entertainment I had back at the shelter. It’s probably all still there, but without the solar panels those hard drives might as well be paperweights. And without us there to take care of things damp might set in and it’ll probably all be ruined by spring.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Lewis started dealing, and as the wind howled outside the shelter, rustling the few exposed corners of tarp near the door, they settled down to wait out the storm.

The FETF soldier finally stepped back, lowering his crowbar to rest at his side as he wiped sweat from his forehead with his free hand. That made a dozen holes he’d punched in the walls around the room looking for hidden compartments, which of course he hadn’t found.

“Satisfied?” Matt’s dad asked, trying not to let his hostility show. He stood with his wife, Matt, and Sam, huddled in the corner as they did their best to stay out of the soldier’s way.

Ferris must’ve heard it in his tone anyway because he turned from the hole and frowned at him. “You make it sound like this is personal, Larson. This is just a standard inspection, same as we do for everyone else in town.”

Sure it was. Matt was sure everyone else in town had their couch cushions torn open, walls smashed into, and floorboards ripped up, not just the family living in one of the only households in Aspen Hill that had held out and refused to voluntarily allow an inspection even when the administrator made them mandatory. Not to mention the fact that Matt was friends with the cousins who’d had a treasure trove of supplies for Ferris to loot and the man was probably hoping for more of the same here. If so he’d be disappointed.

It was probably not a good idea to mention any of that, although he couldn’t keep completely quiet. “So now we’re eligible to go through the ration line?”