Nathan Jones: Shortage

Trev was about to argue that in the dark his cousin wouldn’t be able to see much, but then he remembered his night vision goggles. There was also the fact that with the temperature plummeting it was almost certain that anyone traveling along the logging roads or down on Highway 31 would light a fire to stay warm, even if it made things more risky for them. They might try to hide that fire or keep it small, but from the hideout’s elevated position his cousin would have a better chance of seeing it. For that matter anyone planning mischief had better have a flashlight out in that darkness, which would be even easier to spot than a fire.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He really didn’t want to go out into the cold, but then again it wasn’t fair to expect his cousin to do it either.

Lewis grinned. “I’m not doing you as big a favor as you think. First wash means you’ll be using the water before it’s really heated up. Besides, you can take some shifts tomorrow. We’ll probably want to patrol here same as down in Aspen Hill, although we probably won’t need to go nearly as far and can just set up some good observation posts around the perimeter. Especially on the cliffs overlooking the road.”

Left alone, Trev impatiently waited until the last bit of ice in the bucket melted and then got started. The water was still freezing, but that wasn’t so bad while standing next to the stove. Actually refreshing in a way. After a quick scrubbing down with a soapy cloth, then a more thorough rinse, Trev put on his last set of clean clothes and shrugged into his coat to go out and dump the water, then scrub the bucket with snow and refill it for Lewis. After setting it on the stove to melt he climbed into his sleeping bag on the cot and pulled on his balaclava, settling into the blessed comfort of a reasonably soft bed in a warm room.

He wasn’t sure when his cousin got back or whether the water was nice and hot for him, because less than a minute later he fell asleep and didn’t so much as roll over until morning.

The next morning they both slept in, giving their tired muscles a chance to recover now that they’d finally finished their journey and most of the urgency that had kept them going was gone. It also gave the rising sun a chance to warm the cold night air a bit, so when they finally emerged bundled up and puffing in the chilly air they could get right to work on the icehouse.

They made their way to the same shaded hollow near the woodpile where they’d drawn snow from the night before and found a fairly flat patch, then with a bit of shovel work smoothed it the rest of the way, then began gathering smaller logs they could use to build a frame. Lewis had plenty of thick waterproof plastic and tarps to use, along with 6 full sheets of plywood, several boxes of nails, and a hammer. He also had screws and a power driver, but unfortunately that far more convenient building tool had no electricity to charge it.

His cousin was far more experienced with the planning and designing part of building, while for the most part while helping with the shelter Trev had just followed instructions and placed boards, hammered, or put screws where he was told. Now, however, as he watched Lewis calculate a structure that would use as many of their boards as possible, a sudden thought occurred to him. The thought was brought on partly by the chill in the air and partly by the nice big meal last night that’d had some time to digest.

“Um, have you thought of what to do about a heated outhouse?” he asked.

Lewis slowly turned to look at him. “Oh. Actually I hadn’t.”

Trev had been afraid of that. “We should probably think about it before the temperature hits below zero and we’ve got snowdrifts up to our eyeballs. What if we built an attachment to the hideout so the stove can warm it too?”

His cousin made a face. “Not a fan of that for a lot of reasons.” He frowned, thinking hard, then abruptly brightened. “Here’s an idea. What if we’ve always got some nice big stones warming up by the stove, and we built a small outhouse by digging it partly underground with a log frame thatched with mud-chinked branches and covered in plastic and tarp for the upper walls and ceiling? The stones would heat the small space, at least enough to be comfortable.”

It was hard to believe Lewis had come up with that on the spot. “Do you think it would work?”

“It’s that or use some of these boards and have a much smaller icehouse.” His cousin kicked at one of the sheets of plywood. “The pessimistic side of me wonders if we could even find enough game to fill a 4ft cubed box, let alone anything bigger. But the optimistic side of me says I’d rather have too much space than not enough, and we need to make sure it’s nice and sturdy so unfriendly animals can’t get at our winter stores. We can’t afford to cut corners.”

Trev nodded. “No hurry on the outhouse I guess. We won’t want to use it until there’s no other options anyway.”

Under Lewis’s direction they ended up building a 4ft by 8ft box using four of the plywood sheets standing on end, with a fifth cut in half using a hacksaw to make the floor and roof. The trickiest part was rigging up one of the sheets as a door, but luckily his cousin had some spare hinges and even a sturdy hasp that could fit a padlock. The final step was to use rubber rope and the last of a bucket of roofing tar to fill in the seams, then cover everything with nailed on plastic and tarp.

After a bit of consultation while putting on the last touches Lewis rethought standing it on end and instead tipped it sideways so the door was pointing straight up, kind of like a freezer. That would help them get to it when the snow started piling up, and it would also be less vulnerable to being blown or knocked over.

It was a bit after noon by the time they finished, and during the work they’d shed winter gear until they just had their coats on. Trev was even considering doffing that while standing in the sunlight looking at the finished product. He couldn’t help but feel proud of it, even though it wasn’t exactly a difficult bit of construction. “Now we’ve just got to fill it,” he said, clapping his cousin on the shoulder. “Speaking of which, now seems like a good time to go fishing.”

“Mind going solo?” Lewis replied. “I want to do another patrol of the area and look for good places to put up watchposts. Also I can keep an eye on the road and make sure nobody’s coming along it while you’re standing less than a hundred feet away by the river.”

Trev grimaced. He hadn’t thought of that, but Huntington River was actually at a lower elevation than the highway so it would be really hard for him to watch for danger while fishing. He’d also be in plain view of people coming along the road for quite a ways. “Yeah, that would be a good idea, although I’ll try to find a more out of view spot. I’ll listen for your whistle while I’m fishing just in case.” He hesitated. “Um, all my fishing gear was in the lean-to before your renovations.”

“It still is. I’ve got it stowed under my cot where it won’t accidentally get stepped on.”

He nodded at that and hurried to the hideout to gather up his gear. It was just where Lewis had said, still in good shape even after years of neglect. Or at least neglect on his part: his cousin had probably diligently maintained his things in his absence. Trev also gathered up his Mini-14 and some spare mags and picked up one of Lewis’s metal buckets to carry anything he caught. Optimistically speaking he hoped to fill it up, but then again he’d never fished at this time of year and didn’t know if he’d even catch anything.

The last thing he did before setting out was head a short distance from the hideout and spread his coat flat on the ground, then pull out one of his cans of bear spray.