Nathan Jones - Shortage

He almost wasn’t surprised when Trev and Lewis reported back after a half hour or so to say that three of the six trucks had taken a defensible position across the highway at the turnoff and were settling in, while the cousins running ahead of Tom to reach the highway had arrived just in time to see the taillights of the other three trucks heading south.

The mood at the roadblock immediately sank into gloom again, although a few optimists pointed out that at least the trucks were farther from town now.

Not long after that even the optimists shut up when Pete Childress and Rick Watson, two of the snipers watching the garden plots and the south border of town, reported sighting trucks driving without headlights following the small roads outside of town, never getting too close. Only minutes later Jane reported a truck passing by the mouth of Aspen Hill Canyon headed north, scouting the area.

With each new enemy sighting Matt felt his nerves fraying, even though nobody reported any confrontations and he’d ordered his people to only attack if fired on. The hours passed like days and he wished he dared risk a light, just so he could see something. But with the enemy out there, almost definitely with night vision considering the trucks without headlights, they couldn’t take any risk.

Finally Matt called the cousins back to town while Tom kept an eye on the convoy, although he didn’t give the order because he needed their help. An hour later when they finally approached the roadblock in the dark, radioing ahead so they wouldn’t get shot at, he pulled them aside from everyone to talk.

“You should probably put the defenders on shifts so they can start getting rest,” Lewis advised, his own yawn nearly interrupting the suggestion. “This looks like it might drag out and we want as many sharp eyes and minds as possible.”

Matt nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.” He changed the subject, coming right out with it. “You should go.”

“Okay,” Trev said, also yawning. “We’ll be able to take over the morning shift that way.”

“No, I don’t mean to bed,” Matt corrected, a bit impatiently. “If these raiders decide on a siege they’ll surround the town and you’ll be trapped in here. You guys need to get to Trev’s family before the Gold Bloc invades, right?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can still hardly believe that. We’re looking at a foreign invasion and Ferris is going around attacking Americans.”

“Was,” Trev corrected. He looked a bit insulted. “You think I’m leaving the town right now the way things are going? We already had this discussion.”

“I have to agree,” Lewis said reluctantly. “I didn’t think going was a good idea in the first place, and anyway I feel like I need to stay here. I’m the one who took out the raiders’ leaders, and whether the consequences for that are good or bad I need to see it through.”

Trev shook his head. “Well I hope we’re still going once we get things sorted out here, even if we’re delayed a bit.”

Matt sighed. He was glad the cousins would be staying to help the town, but at the same time he felt a built guilty about the clear worry on Trev’s face. And after his friend had helped Matt get April’s family he felt like he owed him something, some help, even if he couldn’t go with him.

But if their minds were made up the town needed everyone they could get. “All right, then. Go get some rest you two. I’ll want you fresh in the morning.”

Before too long the cousins had disappeared in the direction of the shelter, and Matt settled in at the roadblock and began calling for reports on the radio to make sure nobody in vital positions was falling asleep. He wouldn’t have minded falling asleep himself, but he forced himself to stay active. He also began organizing shifts and relieving most of the people who weren’t out watching the approaches to the town to get some sleep.

It was going to be a long night.

Three days passed, and although raider trucks were frequently sighted in spots all around the town they never tried to attack.

Trev almost wished they would. This delay suggested a plan, and he didn’t like plans where dozens of heavily armed and likely well trained soldiers were concerned. But more importantly each day that passed brought him closer to the deadline and the Gold Bloc invading from the north. He felt the pressure to go after his family almost like a weight in his chest, threatening panic whenever he thought of what might be happening to them.

George and Clair Smith were sensible people, far more sensible than their son, and Trev trusted that if they were in danger they’d figure out the right thing to do. If there was a right thing. That was the problem, when this chaotic world following the Gulf refineries attack often didn’t have a good solution and no amount of planning or preparation was enough.

His parents might not be able to handle whatever was coming, and Trev couldn’t bear the thought of them being hurt. Of his siblings being hurt. His sister Linda, only a year younger than Alice and, like Alice, always trying to act older than she was. But still a kid at heart when it came to tickle fights with her brothers. And Jim, who always acted exactly his age of twelve, wanting to be included in activities for younger kids as well as for adults, and always disappointed when told he was too young or too old to do anything.

They needed their big brother. His parents needed their son. And he needed to find them. But he couldn’t, not while Aspen Hill was threatened.

At the moment he and Lewis were patrolling southeast of town, trying to get beyond where the trucks usually drove past so they could see if raiders were being dropped off and digging in at strategic positions, or even worse trying to sneak their way closer to town to pick off defenders.

They’d gone silently, doing their best to stay out of sight, but at the moment they’d determined that there were no enemies nearby and had paused inside a small copse of trees to rest and eat a bit.

As he gnawed on some tough venison jerky, which Lewis and Jane had made to preserve the meat they’d brought in as the days grew warmer, Trev glanced uncomfortably at his cousin. He’d danced around asking the pressing question for days now, which was made easier since Lewis had kept to himself most of the time.

“Are you okay?”

His cousin glanced over at him. “Sure. Why?”

Trev looked away. “I’m just wondering how you feel after taking out Ferris and Turner. I remember how I felt after we stopped those bandits from attacking Jane’s group last fall, and this is sort of the same thing.”

Lewis went back to staring ahead as he swallowed his own mouthful of jerky. “It felt like I was waiting in a concealed position at the top of a tall hill about 250 yards from the convoy when I heard that Turner had shot up the roadblock. Then when I saw that the raiders had serious explosives they were planning to use on the town I felt like I needed to make sure I was in a comfortable position to target the convoy with my .308, single Ferris and Turner out from the others, and shoot them both through the ocular cavity.”

“Oh.” Trev tried to sound casual as he took another bite. His cousin sounded calm enough, but Trev could tell from his voice that he was still a bit hung up about it.

Sure enough, after what had to have been at least five minutes Lewis spoke up quietly. “That’s why I pulled the trigger, because they’d already attacked the roadblock and were ready to do worse. But before then I spent hours lining up those shots, arguing myself back and forth about whether or not to take them. It’s only human, right? Ferris took away our lives, everything we’d worked for. Over three hundred of our neighbors in town starved this winter thanks to him.”