Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1) (17 page)

Matt nodded slowly. “All right, I suppose that makes sense. But if this does so much better than normal houses for heating and cooling then why doesn't everyone build houses like this?”

Lewis shrugged. “It's a consequence of introducing modern heating and air conditioning into every household.”

He stared at his friend in complete befuddlement. What did that have to do with anything? “You're going to have to explain that to me.”

“Think about it. Before heating and air conditioning were developed to the point that they could be installed in every home and run off the power or natural gas grid, people didn't have easy solutions. In every region the world over people built houses suited to the climate, based on decades, centuries, or even millennia of human ingenuity and trial and error. Houses that were optimized for keeping the occupants warm in the winter and cool in the summer were necessary. Now the standard is framed houses of wallboard and plywood, poorly insulated and with big windows that are even harder to insulate, and everything aboveground. It's no wonder they're barely fit to live in now that the power and gas aren't coming in. Which people will find out pretty quick as the weather turns colder. Even houses with wood stoves like yours won't be quite as comfortable as their occupants hope.”

A good argument, but it still irked Matt that Lewis seemed to have had that speech prepared. “You just know everything, don't you?”

His friend didn't seem particularly insulted by the accusation as he took another bite of chili, chewed, and swallowed. “I try. The main problem most people have is shortsightedness, and with the introduction of easy heating and cooling everyone was quick to abandon all the past wisdom about climate appropriate houses for their regions in just a few decades, in favor of the ubiquitous frame houses that aren't really suited to any climate but a perfectly temperate one without needing a lot of heating and cooling. I try to avoid being shortsighted.”

“Yeah well it shows,” Matt said shortly, looking around the shelter with its piles of food near the back. He liked Lewis and respected the guy's careful nature and willingness to learn and understand things, but on the flip side sometimes it felt like his friend wasn't afraid to throw in an explanation even when it wasn't asked for, in a tone that bordered on smug superiority.

Or maybe that was Matt smarting at being caught completely unprepared by all this while Lewis and Trev were better off than anyone in town. Either way it annoyed him. He stood up. “Well it was good to touch base. Feel free to come around any time, and be sure to let Trev know about the potluck.”

“Sure, and I hope you'll visit more often.” Lewis got up and led him to the door and outside, squinting around at the bright day. As Matt started to walk past him towards the dirt road leading back into town he added. “By the way, good thinking with that bear spray. I've got a couple small cans of pepper spray on keychain rings for personal defense while jogging or whatever but that's it. If you want to do some trading bring as many as you like by.”

“Okay,” Matt said, thinking of the buckets and boxes of food in the shelter. That could really help his family, and also might provide him with something he could give the Tillmans in payment for the stuff he'd purchased earlier. “Take care out here, okay?” Lewis nodded, and feeling a bit better about the visit Matt made his way back to town.

* * * * *

The parking lot outside Tillman's was crowded when Trev arrived for the potluck. It looked like most of the town was there.

He meandered through the crowd, greeting people he knew and stopping to chat if they wanted something. He was tired after his patrol shift that had ended a few hours ago, especially since his body was still recovering from the hike down, but compared to lugging around his heavy pack for a week walking the patrol route with just his daypack, weapons, radio, and other necessities for the shift had almost been a vacation.

Well okay, it was still eight hours of steady walking with frequent breaks to inspect the area with his binoculars, but it wasn't brutal. He hoped his cousin would quit worrying about his condition now that he'd proved he was up to the task.

From what he was getting from his chats, as well as overheard snatches of conversation, the inspiration for this potluck was to use up the food going bad in people's unpowered fridges and freezers. That didn't affect him or Lewis since his cousin had long since finished the few groceries in his small fridge and had moved on to eating from their food stockpile.

From the sounds of it the town had set up freezers from the grocery store in the storehouse for whatever food people brought in, trading it for storehouse vouchers, but from what Trev saw of the food being prepared near the store on large grills or along long tables, most of what people brought was going to be eaten tonight.

That felt like a waste, but at the same time they were racing against spoilage anyway so better to eat it than watch it rot. And Trev supposed it was good for the town to have events like this to remind everyone that they were part of a community and would be better off surviving together.

Still, he wondered if Lewis would approve. His cousin might've suggested they find ways to preserve the food instead and stretch it out as long as possible. And maybe he'd have a point saying that, since a party like this hinted that people still didn't get how serious things were. Or maybe they did and were trying to pretend otherwise for a few hours.

Either way he planned to eat his fill.

He found the Larsons up near the front helping out with preparing and serving the food, although Matt took a break from moving platters to the serving tables to greet him. His friend also introduced him to Sam, the girl who'd driven down with him. Trev didn't know her, but he had to admit she was cute and seemed nice. From the fond way the people working around her talked as she excused herself for a moment to greet Trev he also had the feeling she'd earned a lot of goodwill by pitching in to help.

After the introductions she returned to her work, and Trev grinned at his friend. “You could do a lot worse for a traveling buddy.”

Matt gave him an embarrassed look. “We're just helping her out,” he insisted. Then he paused. “Although you're definitely right.”

Trev chuckled and clapped his friend on the shoulder, then made his way over to the line of people waiting for food. He wanted to talk to Anderson and Turner about the patrol he and Lewis had worked out, as well as ask them how they were coming finding more people to work the shifts. But the smell of grilling meat and other cooking food was too tempting to pass up, especially since he and Lewis had decided to strictly limit their meals to the daily calorie consumption for an active adult male to stretch their stores out as long as possible.

His cousin also wanted to use up the wheat, rice, and beans in the buckets at the same rate as the more convenient canned food, which meant there'd be a lot of cooking to do. Luckily Lewis had thought ahead and had huge bags of spices of every variety, especially salt, as well as canned jalapenos and tomato sauce.

Still, cheating a bit this afternoon would be nice. He just felt bad that Lewis couldn't be here to enjoy it too, although he'd try to finagle his cousin a plate since he had a good excuse for his absence, being out on patrol defending the town.

Once he'd worked his way through the line Trev filled up his plate and went over to where the Larsons were sitting with a few other families. They seemed interested in his trip down, so he talked a bit about it and what he'd learned. Although he didn't mention the cache or bring attention to needing to leave anything behind when he abandoned his car.

After an hour or so Matt and Sam joined them, and it was Matt's turn to talk about his week up in Orem and watching the situation at the college deteriorate, then the riot and his near mugging. By the end of the story Trev almost didn't mind the time he'd spent walking considering what he'd managed to avoid by leaving early, even though he'd ultimately arrived on the same day as his friend.

After the story Scott Tillman pulled Matt to the side, and Trev overheard them talking about the remaining gas in Matt's car and something about a debt. Matt didn't look happy about giving up the gas, and he haggled fiercely over it before the two men finally shook hands.

By then it was nearly time to go, so when Matt returned to the table Trev suggested they head out. To his surprise Sam offered to join his friend on the shift, even though it meant a chilly, sleepless night hiking in the dark. Matt firmly refused, insisting she'd worked hard that day and besides she was already committed to helping clear up after the dinner. She looked disappointed, and for that matter Matt didn't look much happier about leaving her as they left the parking lot and headed up Main. His friend already had a daypack and warm coat with him, ready for the shift.

“She sure wants to stick around you,” Trev ribbed his friend as they walked. “I like you, buddy, but I wouldn't want to spend a miserable night walking with you back and forth for twenty or so miles just for the company.”

Matt looked embarrassed. “She just wants to help.”

“So I've seen. Still, do yourself a favor and assume maybe she might be interested in more than just being helpful. It sure looks as if she likes you.”

“Come on, man, we've only known each other for a day!” his friend protested. “Don't start ringing the wedding bells just yet.” Trev laughed, earning an irritated look. “Besides, we need to be worrying more about the situation the town's in right now. You're the one who's always obsessing about survival.”

Trev held up his hands. “Fine, fine. Let's talk about the patrol route, then. I can't tell you what it'll be like at night, but I can tell you how my shift went for me and some spots I noticed where you're more likely to see people traveling.”

Matt nodded, and as the two continued on they got down to business.

Chapter Eight

Refugees

It was the morning of the fourth day since they'd volunteered to patrol north of town and Trev was halfway through his fifth shift.

Even with Matt helping out by stepping in for two shifts the nonstop duty was taking its toll, and the only upside Trev could see at the moment was that his legs were basically solid iron at this point. He'd taken a walk into town yesterday to do some errands and talk to Turner, and it had felt like going out to get the mail in comparison to the hiking he was doing on his shifts.

The worst had been the second day, when he'd had to do the morning shift and then after an 8 hour break gone back to do the night shift. The combined walking was almost as much as the entire week he'd done coming down from Orem, with only being in much better shape and carrying only the essentials in his daypack making it possible.

At least if he had to head back north at this point for some reason he'd be much better prepared for the hike now. With just his daypack he could probably even manage the 50 miles in 24 hours Lewis had joked about after his car ran out of gas the day after the attack, although he'd probably be on the verge of collapse after such a brutal hike.

The patrol route he and his cousin had worked out was about an hour's walk away from the shelter and about 5 miles or a two hour walk from one end to the other and the same time back, meaning they could manage a complete circuit twice a shift. The walk to get to the route was farther than either would've preferred considering how much the extra distance lengthened an already lengthy hike, but at that point there was a long narrow hill that branched out from the foothills to the west and tapered east by southeast until it ended at Highway 6.

The highway entirely bypassed the town several miles east of it, meaning most people traveling along the only major road in the area would most likely pass right by without stopping. To increase the chances of that Officer Turner and a few volunteers had followed the highway digging up any signs that mentioned Aspen Hill and bringing them back to town.

Anderson hadn't been happy with that destruction of public property at all, but like with many other things pragmatism had overruled his objections. Between taking down the signs and the roadblocks just outside of town on the three roads leading to the highway Aspen Hill was now fairly secure. Combined with Lewis and Trev's patrol to the north, along with a patrol run by a few more neighbors south of town on that border, they'd managed to set up along all routes travelers could easily reach their town by.

Although Trev did hope that when things got more settled Turner would set up a patrol west of town, even if the only ways in from that direction were a few dirt roads leading up to the foothills and the slightly larger and better maintained gravel then dirt road going up Aspen Hill Canyon into the Manti-La Sal range and eventually meeting up with Highway 31 along some fairly terrible roads that required at least an SUV or better yet ATVs to navigate. It wasn't likely they'd see many people at all coming from that direction, but with millions of people on the move from the Utah and Salt Lake valleys unlikely wasn't impossible.

For the time being, though, the town's patrols and roadblocks were as close to a continuous sphere as possible. Or at least as close as Trev and Lewis were willing to get considering the already daunting task. If the Mayor and Turner didn't add more people to the patrol roster soon then Trev's days of walking long distances had only just begun, and he could look forward to following the hillside from the highway to the foothills of the mountains and back again twice on each eight hour shift before meeting up with Lewis or Matt at basically the midpoint where the route was closest to the shelter so he could walk home.

They also traded off their single piece of body armor to the person on patrol at that time. Or more accurately Lewis's body armor: his cousin had talked to him about buying his own, but Trev had decided that would be going overboard and he needed the money for other things. Now he kind of wished he'd taken Lewis up on his offer, mostly because after a few days of being passed around between three people constantly walking long distances the heavy vest was really starting to stink. And since it was always in use they hadn't had a chance to clean it or even air it out.

In spite of all that the walking was his only real complaint about patrol duty. His cousin might've been a lot less happy with the task, preferring to remain at the shelter continuing to do all the chores he wanted to complete before things really went sour, but in a lot of ways Trev actually didn't mind walking the south side of the hillside just below the west-east spine, out of sight of anyone coming from the north. It was surprisingly peaceful and the weather was cool and slightly breezy, which added to the sunny days made for just about perfect conditions for mild exertion.

And fairly regularly, long before the walking made him tired, he'd pause as part of his duties to poke his head up from behind whatever cover he could find. From those fairly comfortable positions he'd use the scope on his Mini-14, or more often his binoculars, to inspect the hills and valleys to the north for any sign of movement.

So far there hadn't been any. In fact, over the last few days he'd almost been able to forget he had the unenviable task of stopping anyone who
did
come and turning them away from the town.

It looked as if his good luck had run out, though, because about halfway along the route going back towards the highway he poked his head up above the hillside behind some sagebrush to see a wisp of smoke rising on top of the next hill north. A quick inspection with his binoculars showed him a small and tidy camp, already broken down, and three men with heavy backpacks picking their way down the hillside roughly in his direction.

Trev watched them with nervous apprehension, not so much worried about what they might do as what he now had to do. Guess it was time to do his job. Taking a deep breath he rose to his feet and tucked his binoculars back in their case at his belt, then checked his 1911 in its underarm holster and his rifle slung on his back. After he was satisfied he could get to them quickly he picked his way down the north side his own hill towards the three men.

Over the last few days he hadn't had much to do aside from think about any eventual encounters with people he might have. He'd planned ahead to how he'd respond to specific dangerous situations, but more of his time had spent trying to find the best way to tell frightened, desperate people that they needed to go away.

He'd come to the conclusion that the best way to do it was to treat any wanderers as if they were lost and point them to the highway in a way that would take them around Aspen Hill, hopefully without even realizing it was there. That would prevent any potential confrontations in the first place if they really were lost or had no destination in mind.

So as he got within shouting distance he raised a hand in greeting, friendly but at the same time wary for any sign of one of them going for a weapon. “Hey guys!” he called. “Looks like you might be lost. Highway 6 is just a few miles east of here and that should get you wherever you're going. You can follow this hill behind me right to it.”

The three men kept coming, not aggressively but to make conversation easier, even as they exchanged confused looks. “We're not lost,” the older man in front called back as he raised his hand to display a handheld GPS. Judging by his build and facial features he was probably the father of the other two. “This is taking us right to Aspen Hill. FETF directed us down there for shelter and aid until things calmed down, even gave us the coordinates.”

Blast. It looked like the first ones to show up along his patrol were people he was going to have the hardest time turning away. Trev stood trying to think of something to do, and as he did the three refugees finally got close enough to be in more normal talking distance and stopped, confused by his standoffishness. “Look,” one of the younger men said in a reasonable tone, “if we're trespassing on your land we can go around. We're just trying to get to Aspen Hill where we can finally get our first decent meal in days.”

Trev sighed. It was probably best to be direct. “It's not about trespassing. Aspen Hill has closed its borders. We're not letting anyone in.”

This time the looks the three men exchanged were dismayed. “The FETF official in Provo told us to come here,” the older man protested. “Us and everyone in our neighborhood and others. She assured us Aspen Hill knew we were all on our way and would be ready for us.”

It was almost physically hard to force the words out in the face of the hopeless expressions in front of him. “We're not ready, I'm sorry,” Trev said. “We weren't in much better shape than Provo when this all happened and we're struggling to survive ourselves. I hate to say it but there's no help in Aspen Hill. You'd be better of finding someplace else.”

“That's BS!” the man who hadn't spoken yet burst out. He was only a bit older than Trev, his dark wavy hair grown nearly to his shoulders and tangled from travel. “You can't turn us away when we've been promised a place.”

Trev hated confrontations. Hated them so much that until Nelson's attempted mugging he'd never even been in a real fight. But this was what he was here to do so he was going to do it. “The town's decided, I'm just here to turn people around if they come this way. I can't make the decision of letting you through.”

The young man pointed angrily at the radio clipped to Trev's belt. “Why don't you call them up and ask, then?”

It was a reasonable request, but letting them talk to someone in town would just increase their chances of being let through. The three men looked like decent people, but hourglasses had a way of filling one grain of sand at a time and it would be the same with the refugees if the town started making exceptions. “We'd just be wasting everyone's time since they'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you.”

The older man rested a hand on his son's shoulder to calm him down. “What if we tried to just walk past you?” he asked quietly. “Would you shoot us?”

Trev immediately shook his head. “I'm only armed for self defense. But if you try to enter the town I'll have to call in for backup and things will get unfriendly fast. The town is closed, just take my word for it and look for somewhere else to go.”

“That's not going to work. We came ahead to give Aspen Hill advance notice and help prepare the town for our group, almost sixty people. Where would we all go if the town we were supposed to get help from turns us away?”

In the end Trev had to look away from the man's calm stare. “I'm telling the truth, we don't have anything for you. If we tried to take you in we'd all be starving that much sooner. You need to go somewhere else.”

The three men exchanged despairing looks. “Tell your town about us,” the older son said harshly. “Tell them you'll have to live with what you've done, with the kind of people you've become.” Trev couldn't think of an answer, and with that the three men turned to follow the hill east to the road. As they walked away the guy about his age slowed until he was walking behind the others and turned to give Trev a rude gesture with both hands.

Doing his best not to shake at the adrenaline of the situation Trev started back the way he'd come, to the spot just below the top of the hill on the south side so he could continue his patrol. As he went he lifted the radio to his mouth. “This is Trevor Smith on the north border. I just turned away three men sent to Aspen Hill from Provo by FETF officials who say they've got a group of more than 60 coming behind them.”

He paused, settling his nerves, and then continued. “The first of the refugees are here.”

* * * * *

Matt learned about the refugees Trev had encountered when he arrived at Roadblock 1, the first one constructed on the north end of Main Street, for his shift at 4 in the afternoon. He confirmed it when he checked in with Officer Turner, who was sitting on a lawn chair on the hood of one of the cars pulled across the road staring northeast in the direction of Highway 6. The man had a beer in his hand, and the half gone six pack sitting beneath the chair suggested it wasn't his first.

The policeman shifted in his seat to look at him, taking a swig. “Yeah, that's what it sounds like. Advance warning for a group of 60 or so people. I sent a couple guys up the road to check Highway 6 a few hours ago. They're going to hang out there and and see if the group passes by or makes for the town.”

“What do we do if the refugees try to come in?” Matt asked.

“We do what the town voted on and make them turn around,” Turner said grimly. “It shouldn't come to violence, though. At worst I'll flash my badge and put a little law enforcement authority behind the town's resolution.” He shifted on his seat again, sighing. “I hope it doesn't come to violence. When I contracted out to Aspen Hill to become a small town policeman I never expected to be made the de facto leader of its militia in an SHTF scenario.”

The comment surprised Matt for several reasons. First off he hadn't really considered that the people at the roadblocks and on patrol were part of a militia, although he supposed that's technically what they were. He also hadn't expected a thirty year old, trained police officer to feel uncomfortable in charge. “I'm sure someone else could take over if you wanted.”

“Like who?” Turner asked, snorting. “Anderson? One of the squabblers on the City Council? One of the few veterans in town, all from wars that happened decades ago? Like it or not I'm the best trained and qualified for the job.”