Nathan Jones - Fuel

“Uh oh,” April said. “Bad idea. Spit it out, Trevor.”

“Huh?” he asked around a full mouth. The rose hip was slightly tart, but otherwise tasted delicious.

“Spit it out. Didn’t you see Matt scrape out those white hairs? Those things are like fiberglass and have been used to make itching powder, so imagine what they’ll feel like going through your insides. Also the seeds are slightly toxic.”

Trev hurriedly spat it out. Served him right for ignoring his friend’s demonstration of how to properly eat it. “This is a great idea,” he said as he grabbed another rose hip and used his fingernails to do what Matt was doing with his knife. Terry had a multi-tool he was using while April also used her fingernails. “I should’ve thought about edible plants on the way up. Lewis would have.”

“And I should have, too,” Matt added, passing cleaned rose hip halves to his nephews, who immediately popped them into their mouths and chewed contentedly. “Mom makes weed salads every now and again. They don’t taste great but they’re healthy and don’t cost anything.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone else has figured it out, either,” Terry said, looking around the yard with a relieved smile on his face. “If you know what plants to eat we shouldn’t go too hungry on our way south, dear.”

As Trev chewed on his first seed pod, which was surprisingly a lot like fruit, he felt a surge of relief. Although he’d kept it to himself he’d been really worried about trying to make the trip south to Aspen Hill with kids in tow and no food. It had seemed daunting to the point of impossibility. But if there was stuff they could eat planted right in people’s yards, food homeowners had cultivated for ornamental purposes and left behind, then that would solve a lot of problems.

In fact, they’d be able to harvest enough rose hips from just the bushes in this yard to fill their packs and wagon. They might not even need to forage for anything else. This house’s owners and their love of roses were a godsend.

After filling up on a bunch of the fruits they began plucking as many as they could and stuffing them into backpacks and atop the wagon. They picked through nearly half the rosebushes before they decided they had enough, and Trev was just suggesting that they continue on when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned to see a young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen and dressed in grimy clothes, creeping up on them with a revolver in his hand. He was only fifteen or so feet away, partially hidden by a rosebush.

When the kid realized that Trev had seen him he burst out of hiding. “Everybody hands in the air!” he shouted, waving the gun wildly so it pointed at all of them and none of them. “I’m going to take all your stuf—”

Trev dove to the side, yanking his bear spray out of his pocket.

The move caught everyone else by surprise, probably because none of them believed anyone could be that crazy. Trev could hardly believe he was doing it himself but he knew he had to act, mostly out of anger at himself for getting so distracted with food that he let his guard down and failed to protect the group.

The mugger gaped for almost a full second before yanking his gun around to focus on Trev as he fell. From the looks of it Matt had been frozen in surprise, but when he saw the threat to Trev he hastily pulled out his own can and aimed for the teenager’s face.

Trev squeezed the trigger and the two streams of pepper spray flew at nearly the same time. Unfortunately he landed just as he shot and it threw his aim off to one side of the mugger’s head. Luckily Matt’s shot was better and he hit the kid on the chin, walking it up into his mouth, nose, and eyes.

Trev wasted no time scrambling back to his feet to close the distance to the mugger as the teenager screamed and staggered sideways, pistol falling to the ground as he lifted both hands to clutch at his face. He hadn’t even got a shot off. Trev snatched up the gun and backed away with it at about the same time the mugger crumpled to the ground, making choking noises. He aimed the weapon at their attacker in spite of his incapacitated state.

For a moment the only noise was the punk hacking and coughing as everyone stared between him and Trev, and then Matt shoved his bear spray into his pocket and went over to grab his shoulder. “Are you insane? You could’ve gotten us all killed!”

Trev gave him a crooked smile, still buzzed from adrenaline and relief at the good outcome. “Just myself. Since I moved first he aimed at me, which meant even if he’d managed to shoot me you would’ve been able to get him before he hurt anyone else. I figured it was worth the risk. You’d be surprised how long it takes people to respond if you move without warning. There’s a reason firearms instructors teach that anyone within 10 feet, sometimes as much as 25 feet, can potentially reach you before you can fire a shot.”

Matt shook his head, looking impressed. “It was stupid, but I’ve got to admit it was also pretty awesome.” He glanced down at the revolver Trev held. Trev thought it was .357 or .38 special, although he wasn’t too familiar with revolver calibers. “Hey, at least now you’ve got a gun again.”

Trev reversed the pistol to hold the barrel and offered it to him. “You mean you do. You’ve got a family to protect and I’ve got my Mini-14 waiting at home. Besides, you’re the one who tagged him.”

“Uh uh,” his friend said firmly. “I’m the idiot who lost you your 1911, and I know how much you loved that thing. This isn’t the same but it’s better than nothing. Besides, you’re a better shot.”

Trev hesitated, then shrugged. “Kind of hard to say no.” He idly thumbed open the chamber, then snorted and upended it over his hand. Six spent shells spilled into his palm. “I guess it didn’t matter what we did. He was out of bullets.” He flipped the chamber closed and tucked the empty revolver inside his backpack. The cops at the roadblock hadn’t taken his underarm holster, also now in his pack, and he thought it would work for this gun too with a bit of adjustment.

“Well you can keep your eye out for some,” Matt said absently, glaring at the mugger. The kid was still lost in his own little world of extreme discomfort. “What do we do with this guy?”

“I say let him go,” April immediately said. “He’s learned his lesson.”

Trev agreed. “He’s going to have trouble functioning for a while after that, and he doesn’t have a weapon anymore. Maybe the best justice is to leave him here surrounded by far more dangerous people and see if the golden rule teaches him any lessons.”

Matt suddenly started for the kid and lightly kicked his shoe. “Hey.”

“Sorry, man!” the mugger yelled, curling up into a fetal position and trying to squint at Matt through bloodshot eyes. “I’ll leave you guys alone, I promise!”

“You’d better. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Matt leaned down and pointed. “See those rosebushes in the yard? The rose hips, the seedpods, are edible. We’re going to leave now so you can hang out here and have as many as you want.”

Straightening, his friend made his way back over to the group and led them away from the house and out of the neighborhood. Trev was quick to follow, eager to get some distance between them and the mugger even if he was out for the count.

Once they were well away from the expensive houses they continued south along the streets, and since they’d found food and didn’t really need to stay in the city anymore Trev led the way west to the edge of the suburbs, where a road ran basically abandoned with only a few houses and some fenced in industrial lots and buildings dotted along it. Better yet, there was also a bit of cover in the way of bushes and trees.