Nathan Jones - Shortage

A heavy silence fell. “What about Alice?” Trev asked. “Her parents are both gone now, right?”

For some reason his friend’s face twisted, almost in guilt. “The Watsons agreed to take her in. I’m not sure they can spare the resources but they’ll do their best.” He clapped Trev on the shoulder. “Come on, if you’re ready.”

“Just a few more bites,” Trev replied, hurriedly shoving food into his mouth. As he finished up Matt went over to kiss Sam goodbye and tussle with his nephews for a minute. From the sounds of it she was suggesting that once one of the others came home to watch over the shelter she’d walk into town to keep him company, and maybe even bring the boys along to give them something to do besides be bored at home.

Before joining his friend Trev filled a sack with wheat, five pounds or so, to give to Alice anonymously via the Watsons. He couldn’t help everyone in town, much as he’d like to, but if he could spare aid for strangers up in the mountains he couldn’t do any less for a neighbor in need. He felt bad he hadn’t thought to give this food yesterday, when it could’ve helped Betty as well. Was it just the way of the world to not know someone needed help, or to have some idea of it but not think to help them, until it was too late?

Easier to blame circumstance than himself, maybe. But again, he couldn’t help everyone. Too little too late was at least better than nothing.

As he was heading out of the shelter Sam intercepted him, Matt and the boys already outside. She looked worried. “I’m worried about Matt,” she said without preamble.

Trev blinked. “Is he sick?”

She shook her head, dark hair flying. “He feels responsible for the town, more than he should. It’s like he’s wearing a lead vest and it’s been getting heavier every day, for months now. I thought going to get you would help, and it has a bit, but when there wasn’t as much food as he’d hoped it all seemed to come back.”

The petite woman swallowed, eyes suddenly swimming with tears. “I don’t know what happened, maybe Betty Thornton’s death, but he’s even worse today. I’ve never seen him like this, even after Razor attacked.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Trev promised. Then he paused, looking closer at Sam’s pale face. “What about you, are you okay?”

She gave a start of surprise and looked almost panicked. “I, um, no, yeah. Just tired.” Without waiting for a response she hurried out to say her goodbyes to her husband.

Trev might’ve expected that sort of response from Jane, at least the leaving without a word part, but it seemed uncharacteristic for Matt’s wife. Maybe while he was talking to Matt about what was weighing him down he’d also talk to his friend about having Sam visit Terry to make sure she wasn’t getting sick.

They brought only one shovel when they set out, since a grave wasn’t big enough for two people to work on at once, and in any case they’d want to take turns to save their strength. The walk into town was a grim and quiet one, Matt not seeming to want to talk and Trev trying to figure out how to ask uncomfortable questions. They passed the park that served as the new graveyard, which was already full, and continued on to the Thorntons’ place less than a block from Matt’s house.

They found it eerily deserted, everyone over at the Watsons’ paying their respects to Alice. Matt led the way to the back corner of the small lot, where someone had marked a square, and as Trev stood to the side his friend began to dig.

It was a long, slow process. The ground tended to be rocky so close to the mountains, and even if the it was laboriously cleared for a lawn the rocks underneath tended to be left there, sporadically making their way to the surface. Trev wouldn’t say it was anywhere near as bad as the digging he’d had to do for the outhouse up at their hideout, where every shovel strike bounced off a stone ranging in size from the length of his finger to bigger than his head and each had to be laboriously dug around, but it was still exhausting work that left Matt making annoyed sounds every minute or so.

Finally his friend planted the shovel into the ground, glaring slightly as it bounced off a rock and he had to catch it. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“My turn then.” Trev reached for the shovel.

“I didn’t mean the digging. But that too.” His friend gave him a bitter smile and handed it over, stepping away so Trev could get to work. Trev waited patiently for him to continue, wondering if his friend was going open up without him needing to say anything.

It turns out he was. “We’re still weeks away from planting, and weeks away from harvest after that. We were banking on whatever food you and Lewis could sell us to see us to harvest. Without it we need a miracle or we’ll keep on losing people, just like Price and Carbonville and Helper and everywhere else seems to be.”

Trev wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d only been in town a few days and he was already feeling the despair sinking in. For Matt, who was in charge of defending the town, losing people had to be crushing his soul even if none of those deaths came from attacks. Sam had good reason to be concerned.

Matt kept going, almost as if talking to himself. “You know Alice begged me to help her dad? During Razor’s attack. I was too desperate to get to Sam, and even then I didn’t make it in time to prevent her and Mom from being hurt. Terry tells me Mr. Thornton’s, John’s, wounds were too severe, and even if I’d helped he probably still would’ve died. But there’s a world of regret in that “probably.”

Trev paused to look up and found his friend staring miserably at the grave as he continued. “I left John to his fate and went for my own family, and because of it his wife and daughter were left alone to fend for themselves over the winter.”

Was that what had hit his friend so hard today that Sam noticed it? “Don’t let it eat at you,” Trev said quietly as he got back to digging. “We do what we can for others, but family comes first. If the situations had been reversed would you have blamed John for going after Betty and Alice, especially when you knew you were probably going to die anyway?” He caught Matt shaking his head sharply out of the corner of his eye, but his friend didn’t reply. “Whatever happened is in the past. You can’t let it stop you from moving forward.”

Matt sighed. “I sometimes envy you the winter you spent up in the mountains. Ten foot snowdrifts and bitter cold seem like a fair trade to avoid having to watch suffering you can’t do anything to prevent.” He abruptly stepped forward, reaching for the shovel. “Here, I’d rather work myself to exhaustion than stand around thinking like this.”

Trev let his friend take over and stood back, watching the hole grow as the minutes ticked by in silence. He wanted to offer to take over before his friend pushed himself too hard, but if he were in Matt’s shoes he’d probably want to keep digging for a bit longer too.

An hour later the grave was halfway dug. Trev had finally taken over for Matt, more out of necessity than anything, and his friend had slumped exhausted on the snowy lawn as Trev resigned himself to doing most of the digging. Hunger hadn’t been kind to his friend and he’d lost a lot of his strength, which worried Trev more than he’d care to admit.

About that time Sam appeared, alone, to take Matt quietly to one side. Trev didn’t know what the petite, dark-haired woman said, but it seemed to be just what his friend needed to hear. He watched from inside the hole as Matt gently picked Sam up and spun her around, then leaned down and kissed her before holding her close.

And yet Trev was even more confused when, a few minutes later, Sam left walking in the direction of the Watsons’ and Matt came back to the grave, looking even more miserable than before. “What’s going on?” he asked.