Nathan Jones - Fuel

The only relief was that they didn’t see any bodies, either because someone was taking them away for respectful disposal or, less likely, not as many people had died in the violence as Trev feared. Either way it was a relief to get through downtown.

In the early afternoon they reached the junction where I-80 split from I-15 going west, and there they found a FETF station with several water trucks offering a place to refill their bottles and emergency medical aid for those who needed it. That was also where FETF directed them down I-80 towards the refugee camp with a promise of a meal when they arrived. It turned out Antelope Island was indeed a peninsula at the moment, dry and clear with only a few places of inch-deep water.

While Trev and Matt had a long drink and refilled the few bottles they’d emptied on the morning’s hike, Trev noticed that most of the traffic heading north with them was turning east towards Antelope Island, leaving a much thinner stream of humanity to continue on up I-15. Another thing he noticed was that there was almost no one coming east along I-80: the traffic was all one-way. Which made sense considering that west of here was nothing but salt flats and desert most of the way to California. He was pretty sure none of the people leaving I-15 were planning on going anywhere but Antelope Island.

There was nowhere else to go in that direction.

They followed I-80 past Salt Lake City International Airport, which surprisingly enough had a few flights taking off and landing. Transports bringing desperately needed supplies to FETF for the camp, Trev was certain. Not too far beyond the airport another FETF station turned them all due north on the final stretch to Antelope Island. As he had guessed not a single person kept going west past that point, and they followed along in the sea of humanity like bits of driftwood.

It was nearing late afternoon as he and Matt made their way up a slight rise that they noticed people stopping at the top of it, clumping together and murmuring to themselves in relief, surprise, and in a lot of cases dismay. They discovered why once they finished making the climb and saw the view below.

Antelope Island was big, covering a larger area than all of Salt Lake City. Because of that size it might’ve been tempting to assume that the camp huddled up against a fence topped with barbed wire stretching all the way across the end of the peninsula to close it off wasn’t all that large. Only it was. Large enough to hold the population of Aspen Hill a hundred times over, maybe more.

“What are we going to do?” Matt mumbled, staring at the sprawling carpet of tents in despair. “There’s got to be tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of people in there! There’s no way we’ll find April and Terry and their boys in all that!”

Trev shook his head in mild disagreement. In spite of its size the camp was much, much more organized than any other refugee camp he’d seen. For one thing there was the fact that it had actual tents, made of canvas and arranged in orderly rows, with latrines strategically located to efficiently service the maximum number of people. Even if the camp had a hundred thousand people in it that sort of planning was actually a very good sign.

He looked at the well-guarded entrance, near the southwestern end of the fence closest to where they were. It looked like an amusement park entrance on steroids, with several open gates, FETF coordinators lining tables beneath shaded tents, and hundreds of FETF soldiers making their way among the newcomers directing them this way and that almost like shepherds. “We might actually be in luck. Come on.” He started forward.

Matt balked. “Oh, now you want to go talk to the men with guns?”

“Actually yes, I do. If we talk to these FETF coordinators and let them know who we are and what we want, after we enter the camp there’s a better chance they’ll let us leave again. Also we can ask them where to find your sister’s family.”

Matt gave the massive sprawling encampment a doubtful look. “What, you think the guards at the gate are going to know about a family of four out of the thousands and thousands of people in there?”

Trev smiled. “Say what you will about FETF, they’re bureaucrats at heart. Look at those pavilions, at what you have to go through to get into camp. They’ll have a list of names of everyone in there, I guarantee it.” He shifted impatiently. “Which is another reason we have to go in through the front gate. If we try sneak in we won’t be on the list and we might not be able to just walk out. They might even detain us.”

“Your paranoia is getting a bit old,” his friend complained. “This isn’t a prison camp, it’s a disaster relief camp.”

“It’s a refugee camp created because these people were caught up in massive riots in the cities they lived in,” Trev answered sharply. “Even if those cops down in Spanish Fork were right about the rioters being sent to Point of the Mountain and these being innocent refugees looking for help that doesn’t change much. The people who run the camp aren’t going to want these people leaving and wandering around endangering themselves or causing more trouble. Even if we do come in the proper way they may try to detain us within the nice little barbed wire fence here “for our own good.”

“For the love of all that’s good and holy!” Matt snapped, losing his temper. “This isn’t Nazi Germany, Trev. This isn’t Communist China. This is America, and in America citizens aren’t unlawfully detained by an oppressive government!”

Trev lost his temper as well. It had been a long few days, full of frustrating and terrifying events, and he was tired and hungry. “Tell that to the policemen three days ago who threatened to haul us to Point of the Mountain just because we protested having our property stolen at gunpoint.”

As the tension between them grew Trev suddenly became aware that the people surrounding them were gawking, with a mixture of amusement, confusion, and fear. Matt noticed it as well because he suddenly threw up his hands. “Enough! Just enough, okay? We’ve almost found April, we’re almost to where we can go home. It’s almost over. Just, just shut up and let’s get on with it, all right?”

Trev took a breath and glanced back at the FETF workers at the camp’s entrance. “You do the talking, all right?”

“Yes, that’d be great. I’d love it if you’d just keep your mouth shut.” Matt shoved past him, and after a moment trying to calm himself Trev caught up and walked at his side.

In spite of the large numbers of people entering the camp Trev couldn’t help but notice that nobody was leaving. That didn’t make him feel any better, but he tried to convince himself that it was just because the refugees had nowhere to go and not because they couldn’t leave. That tide of humanity was being fairly competently managed by the FETF coordinators, who were able to process people without too much of a bottleneck. It took less than an hour for Matt and Trev to work their way through the line to one of the pavilions, meaning with any luck they’d have all evening to start their search.

There a pair of soldiers frisked them and searched their backpacks. There was a bit of trouble about the cans of bear spray, at least until Matt insisted they were for self defense only. Trev half expected the men to confiscate them anyway, but to his surprise they were given back.

An even more pleasant surprise came when they registered with a FETF coordinator and Matt mentioned he was searching for his family as he handed over their driver’s licenses. The woman actually took out a laptop, which must’ve been wirelessly connected to some FETF server, and quickly did a search.