Nathan Jones - Fuel

As the convoy made its way towards Tillman’s, dragging most of the crowd in its wake, Sam made her way over to Turner. “If the roadblock is down does that mean my shift is over? I want to go tell the Larsons what’s going on.”

He sighed. “Looks that way. I guess these guys are in charge of securing the town now.” He glanced back at the refugee camp, frowning. “You know, in a way it’s almost a relief to not be responsible for it anymore. These professional soldiers are much more qualified for the job.”

Sam nodded uncertainly and quickened her pace to outdistance the slowly moving trucks, making her way down Main towards Tillman’s and her home a block away.

Ferris had just blithely announced he was taking over the town storehouse for his relief efforts, and it was obvious those efforts would focus on the refugees. What did that mean for everything the people of Aspen Hill had gathered at that location for their own needs? Was he taking it just like that, without a word of protest from anyone? Would those who’d donated be able to come and reclaim their things rather than see them go to feeding refugees the town couldn’t possibly hope to support?

In spite of the supply truck she had to wonder if the “aid” Ferris had brought was really going to help at all, or just make things worse like Lewis predicted. She didn’t like to think ill of the government, especially not when they were the only hope of putting things to rights, but she kind of wished Aspen Hill had just been left alone.

For the first time since arriving in Aspen Hill with Matt she was truly worried about the future. She hoped he’d come home soon: even if having him around couldn’t logically change much about their situation it would be a huge weight off her shoulders.

Matt had talked things over with Trev, April, and Terry, and even knowing it would slow them down significantly they’d agreed it was a good idea to leave the highway past Helper and follow back roads, some little better than dirt tracks leading to and from the foothills below the Manti-La Sal mountains, the rest of the way down to Aspen Hill.

Knowing about the refugee camp outside town they couldn’t be certain what the situation would be like after being gone for nearly two weeks, and after everything that had happened they didn’t want to take any chances. They’d approach the town from the northwest or even due west, in a direction where it was very unlikely they’d meet anyone else.

So the morning of the third day after reaching Trev’s cache, the 23rd since the attack and the 12th since leaving town to find April’s family, they guessed that they were within a few hours’ walk of home and set off at a brisk walk along the dirt road. Even the children seemed to have a spring in their step, walking without complaint. Little Paul still needed to be carried frequently, but Aaron seemed to have gotten used to walking and with three solid meals a day was doing a good job following behind with one hand holding the wagon for hours at a stretch.

It was a chilly morning, an unpleasant reminder that Halloween was only a couple weeks away and autumn was marching on to winter. They’d all broken out jackets or sweaters last night and were still wearing them, waiting eagerly for the sun to warm things up to more comfortable levels.

Two hours into the walk with only a few more hours until noon there was still little sign of that, and Matt shivered and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, wishing he’d thought to bring something warmer. “Cold today.”

Trev nodded grimly. “Could be fluke bad weather, or it could be a sign of early winter. Just what we need.”

Matt decided it wasn’t worth the effort to get on his friend’s case about the doom and gloom. “I feel bad for all the people up in the FETF camp, and for that matter in the refugee camp just outside of town. I wonder if they’ve given any thought to just how bad winter’s going to be with nothing but a tent. The cold might kill more of them than hunger.”

“To be honest I wonder if the townspeople have thought about it,” Trev answered bluntly.

Everyone gave him a surprised look. “In Aspen Hill?” April asked, frowning. “What’s there to think about? Everyone has a house.”

His friend shrugged. “They do, but most houses aren’t even all that well insulated these days. What makes them a shelter is the gas and electric heating. I think a lot of people who’ve always relied on that are going to be awfully surprised at how quickly their houses lose heat once it cools down, and how hard it is to heat up all that open uninsulated space to tolerable levels.”

Matt frowned, thinking of his conversation with Lewis weeks ago. “Your cousin mentioned something about that too. You really think houses will be that useless?”

“Oh they’ll still be better than tents, but if you’ve looked closely at any winter power outages that lasted more than a few days you’ll see a surprising amount of suffering among unprepared residents. Even deaths.”

“But Mom and Dad have a wood stove,” April cut in, looking worried.

Trev nodded. “Which might literally be a lifesaver. It might be smart to take a bit of time away from finding food to make sure you’ve got a decent woodpile, and that you use any spare blankets or carpets or packing foam or whatever to better insulate the room with the stove. You might all end up sleeping in there when winter really sets in, and spending your days there too.”

“Meanwhile you’ve got an underground shelter with your own stove and a nice big pile of firewood,” Matt pointed out. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was almost indirectly asking if his family might be able to move into the shelter if things got bad.

His friend got the hint. “That’s really something I don’t have much say in.”

“But you helped Lewis build the place,” Matt protested.

Trev shrugged. “Sure, I helped my cousin build the shelter with unpaid labor. But he owns the land and bought all the materials. I’m almost a guest myself. Besides, you know how he feels about keeping quiet about the place and avoiding notice.” He fell silent after that and Matt didn’t press the issue.

An hour after that they came in sight of Aspen Hill nestled between the hills to the southeast, and with a bit of cheering made their way down the hillside they were on, follow a winding road through dense thickets of scrub oak and other underbrush.

They were only a few miles out of town, excitedly talking about reunions with family there and finally having a warm bed to sleep in and a safe place to stay, when they rounded a bend to see five men on the road ahead.

Matt immediately slowed, wary. He assumed the group was a patrol from the town, since he couldn’t imagine who else it would be this close to Aspen Hill, but at the same time he didn’t recognize any of the men. They were all unshaven and wearing dirty clothes, as if they’d been out here a while, and all but one of the men were taller than him and much larger. Three were also carrying aluminum baseball bats, and from their expressions they weren’t interested in a pick-up game.

It was a bit of a relief to see that the single short, skinny man in the group, who was fairly nondescript with brown hair cut short and also the only one without tattoos on his arms, seemed to be the leader. He had both hands thrust deep into the front pockets of his baggy jeans, but he took one out to motion to the others. As they started forward he used that hand to wave cheerfully. “Hey guys!” he called.

Matt waved back cautiously. “Hey! You from Aspen Hill?”

All five men burst out laughing at that. “Seriously?” the leader asked. “Do we look fat, well equipped, and conceited?”