Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (25 page)

The trip back took longer, slowed by the wagons and their muscles getting used to constantly towing the extra weight. They also paid even more attention to their surroundings in case of attack now that they had precious food to steal. The trip that had taken about two and a half days to get up there took almost six to return to Aspen Hill, but considering how long his father had been gone Matt called that a good pace. Thanks to good meals and careful rest their strength also increased as they towed their weights, and before the end Sam was more easily handling her wagon when she towed it.

Matt made his fiancee blush by complimenting her toned muscles on a rare warm afternoon when she removed her coat, and she insisted he return the favor and take off his own coat to do some flexing for her. Terry ended their banter by threatening to throw a bucket of cold water over them, and although his brother-in-law was just joking and the day was mild Matt still had no desire to get wet and chilled. They kept going, mood lightened but not forgetting their urgency to get home.

On the eighth day, still several miles from home, their good luck ended and the snowstorm that had been dumping in the mountains looming to the west for the last few days finally made it down to where they were in the foothills. They kept going through the heavily flying snow for as long as they could, as wet slush caked on the tires of their wagons and forced frequent stops to knock it off. But finally near sundown they gave up on reaching the town that day, if it was even possible, and decided they'd finish the trip in the morning.

The first snow of winter had arrived, giving them a taste of what they could expect in the coming weeks. Matt was just grateful it had waited until they were almost home.

Just before noon they reached the shelter trudging through almost a foot of wet snow that clung to the wagon wheels, their feet, and the trees on the slopes behind them and the houses in the distance in front of them.

When they arrived they were pleased to discover that Matt's dad had brought down a deer after all, not while waiting in the observation post while it wandered within range but by sighting it in the hills and going after it, a chase that lasted almost two hours. He'd had his own adventure getting the animal cleaned and quartered and the meat brought home with only a passing knowledge of how it was done.

Still, they had venison to go with other food at the celebration dinner that evening, almost as joyous as Thanksgiving had been. While it was cooking Matt had sought out the Mayor and Chauncey, who'd taken over for him while he was gone, about resuming his duties and offering whatever other aid he could. Terry came as well to do what he could for anyone who'd fallen sick or been injured in his absence. They spent the afternoon in town pitching in, coming back to the shelter for dinner chilled and with the snow still falling thickly.

The next day Matt returned to work, almost surprised at how quickly the duties that he'd held for only a week, most of it while off his feet, became routine and things got back to normal. Or at least as normal as possible after the attack. Which wasn't to say they were good, at least not for the town.

But for Matt it meant no more journeys. No walking to Antelope Island and back for April's family, no skulking along backroads with wagonloads of food hoping not to be attacked. Just patrols and more to look forward to in the coming days, weeks, and months, as winter gripped the town and the suffering of its people became more and more real.

The only thing he really had to look forward to was his wedding.

Chapter Eleven

Winter

The days-long snowstorm about a week and a half after Thanksgiving marked the end of any real adventuring for Trev and Lewis. At least any that didn't involve slogging through snow that ranged from knee to hip deep, with only the faint hope that you might not sink all the way through the crust unless you could make your way through the densest clumps of trees where it was a bit better. Although even there you had to be careful not to brush a branch or you might end up buried in a mini avalanche.

Lewis had two pairs of snowshoes for when they really needed to get around, but after trying them Trev quickly learned that using them was as tiring as wading through deep sand. Something to avoid unless he was taking a long trip and really needed them. For slogging to the outhouse and back they were more effort than they were worth, especially once they'd stomped out a trail.

His cousin stopped the patrols, since at this point the winter would do a better job of hiding them if they weren't making tracks everywhere in a half mile radius. They didn't go up to the logging road at all, since that was the most likely place where unfriendly eyes might discover tracks. Instead they'd periodically slog down to the cliffs and from there scope out the mountainsides around them and the road below for any sign of people.

They never saw any.

Beyond that there wasn't much they did outdoors besides visit the woodpile, the icebox, and the outhouse. On warmer days they tried their hands at snares and Trev even braved the climb down to the river for fishing now and again. The catches were few and far between, mostly not worth the effort, but during daylight hours they went out anyway, as much to escape the cramped but warm confines of their hideout as anything.

Days passed to weeks, then months, as their food supply slowly but inexorably dwindled. They started a routine inside the shelter of exercising and doing dry fire training drills with their firearms, lifting the cots off to one side to give them at least a bit of room. It got tedious beyond all belief after a while, but they stayed in good shape and as active as they could.

And nobody could say Trev wasn't quick on the draw and good at swiftly lining up a shot on any random knothole or woodgrain, with arms that didn't waver in the slightest. He was also more than prepared to clear any malfunction that didn't involve his familiar Mini-14 or new Glock literally falling to pieces in his hands.

Every week on a day when the weather was decent they checked along the cliffs for interlopers, then hiked a short distance to a spot where hills surrounded them on three sides, most importantly in the direction of the road to block the sound. There they spent a few precious rounds keeping their aim solid with both pistol and rifle, repeating the familiar drills they practiced in their hideout with live ammo.

Trev finally mastered the recoil on his .45 to his satisfaction, and with extended practice with his rifle he got to the point where he could reliably hit targets far enough away that he had trouble seeing them through the scope, as well as multiple closer targets in a quick sequence of shots. He still felt like he had a lot to learn every time he watched his cousin's practice, but time was on his side when it came to catching up.

As the winter months passed they remained in isolation, not even seeing signs of neighbors or travelers passing through, and Lewis was quick to insist that he was more than happy with that. For his part Trev wouldn't have minded a bit of company now and again to relieve the monotony, and especially missed his college days that seemed a lifetime ago, where he'd been able to interact with people his own age.

Thousands of people his own age, often doing things he had no interest in doing. Then, that is: activities that had at the time seemed almost too boring to bother going to now filled his fondest memories, and he even missed the quiet focus and occasional laughing conversations of study groups. And dates. He really missed going on dates and other opportunities to spend time with members of the opposite sex.

He'd always enjoyed spending time with Lewis, and on those long winter nights they found plenty of topics of conversation to talk about. But with nothing new happening and no news coming in you could only say so much to the same person about the same things.

Luckily with his forward thinking Lewis had included some musical instruments with his other things, a few harmonicas and light plastic recorder, so they had something besides conversation to divert them. They spent many an hour clumsily learning to play all the songs they knew, and while at first the sound was worse than silence, or for that matter worse than cats yowling, eventually they improved enough to be enjoyable. Although after most sessions Lewis would end up grumbling about his left behind hard drives and the prospect of listening to real music.

It was his cousins's second favorite topic, behind reminiscing about Aspen Hill and speculating on how their friends and neighbors were doing. Especially during the coldest nights of late December and January, with the wind howling outside and little light except what they could get from the stove, Trev thought he heard a bit of regret in his cousin's voice, especially when his speculation started turning to how things would've been if they'd tried to stay in town for the winter, even with Ferris and everything else.

Trev had his own regrets about that, especially wondering how everyone felt about him after Mandy, but he didn't dwell on it much aside from when Lewis brought it up. Ultimately here was where they were and where they'd be, unless they wanted to brave snowdrifts over their heads trying to get down the mountains. At least in the hideout the main thing they had to worry about defending against was snow piling up in front of their door or over the icehouse and outhouse. Considering the alternatives it was a foe he was happy to face.

Still, as January passed into February with March looming on the horizon Trev grew more and more restless, spending increasing amounts of time exercising or striking out along the snowy slopes around them even on the coldest days just to escape the dim confines of the hideout.

In spite of all the ways of producing light they'd brought they were running out, of batteries and kerosene and candles, and more and more he wished Lewis's foresight had included a window. Or maybe a bank of south facing windows like Lewis talked about as the ideal setup for an underground house in winter, although he hadn't had a chance to do it for the shelter or the hideout.

Either way Trev was more than ready for winter to be over. Whether they made their way back to Aspen Hill or stuck around in the mountains spring couldn't come soon enough for his tastes.

* * * * *

The wedding took place one week before Christmas.

Matt's parents and April all thought having it just three weeks after his proposal was a bit rushed, considering how before the attack weddings usually took months to plan. But it wasn't like there was a venue to book, a cake to order, decorations to plan, coordinated tuxedos and dresses to rent, and guests on both sides of the family from all over the country to invite. No need to plan a DJ or a band, apply for a marriage license, sit through a surprise bachelor or bachelorette party, or any of the other things that went into weddings these days.

More than that, though, in their long discussions together on quiet nights Matt and Sam had both agreed that the world didn't wait for things to be ideal anymore, and with an uncertain future it was all the more important to live the present to the fullest. Not that they considered their timing to be rushed, either: both agreed on what they wanted and couldn't see any reason to delay.

Although even with a simpler wedding there was a lot to prepare in those two weeks after returning from their trip to get the cache. They planned the wedding to be in the town hall's auditorium with the ceremony itself limited to family and friends, which still made for a packed room, while the reception was open to the town. That meant the auditorium had to be decorated somehow, which meant a bit of scrounging around town finding things Sam, his mom, and April found suitable. While he was doing that Matt did his best to find something more formal to wear than a white shirt, tie, and slacks.

The days of feeding all wedding guests were well behind them, unfortunately, since even with the meat they'd butchered the town's supply of food was long gone and nobody was about to donate from whatever individual stores they might have, not even for a wedding. His mom had suggested doling out what few cans of peaches, pears, and sweet corn they had as a little treat, but after Sam had asked everyone to picture how doling out a spoonful of food to each of a roomful of guests would go over they'd agreed to take food off the menu.

At the very least Mayor Tillman offered them a container of powdered Gatorade as a present, and between that and good spring water the guests wouldn't go thirsty.

Things weren't going well for the town as the days got colder and food got scarcer, but in spite of that Matt was almost certain the wedding was improving people's moods. When he was at the storehouse, the town hall, or even on the way to or from patrols people constantly came up to him offering their congratulations, and he quickly learned that he wasn't the only one who'd formed a high opinion of Sam during her short time in town. He passed on to her a great deal of praise about her cheerfulness, kindness, and willingness to help.

The people around him all seemed to get just a little bit more cheerful when he was around, especially when Sam was with him, even when those people were obviously hungry and even sick, desperate for any pleasant distraction to latch on to. Matt and his fiancee spent most of their time around other people fielding questions about the wedding, quite honestly answering that yes, they were lucky to have found one another, yes, they were very excited about getting married, and yes, they did love each other very much.

It was almost a relief to escape the flurry of wedding planning to wade through ankle deep snow patrolling the town. Sam even started going with him, since between sleeping in the shelter and wedding plans it was one of the few chances they had to spend time alone together. Matt felt bad about forcing her to tramp through the cold, but he certainly couldn't ask for better company.

Finally the day of the wedding arrived, with Matt nervously standing in the changing room to one side of the stage trying to piece together the tuxedo he'd borrowed from Carl Raymond. As he understood it Sam, in the other changing room across the stage, had no less than four women helping her fix her dress, hair, makeup, veil, shoes, and everything else just right. Not that he needed or wanted anyone to help him dress, of course, but it would've been nice if someone had thought to tell him how to put this thing on. He'd had no idea it was going to be this complicated.

Finally, though, he thought he managed to get it right and did some last minute comb work on his hair, which April had cut for him last night. He also ran a hand along his jaw, although if he'd missed a patch shaving this morning it wasn't like he'd be able to do anything about it now. Less than a minute later there was a soft rap on the door and he was ushered up to stand at the front of the auditorium. Ben Thompson started playing the wedding march on the piano and the noise in the auditorium died down to an expectant hush, as Matt turned to look anxiously down the aisle searching for his first glimpse of his bride to be.

Although he did pause to glance at the first row in the audience and smile at his nephews, who were both standing on their chairs waving wildly and yelling helloes to him as an embarrassed Tam tried to get them to sit back down. Behind him he heard Terry making shushing noises, and on the opposite side with the maids of honor April finally broke away two steps to sit them back down and furiously whisper reprimands.

When he looked back down the aisle it was in time to see Sam step into view on his dad's arm, starting toward him.

Matt felt his breath catch when he saw the woman he loved. His mom had lent Sam her wedding dress, which was a bit big on the petite woman even after the two of them and April did their best to make adjustments, and April had lent her a pair of her nicest shoes stuffed with a bit of cotton at the tips so they fit. Her dark hair shone from brushing, hanging loose down her back with two simple clips holding it away from her face.

He didn't think she'd ever looked more lovely, especially when her eyes met his through the veil and her smile became radiant.

Catherine took their vows in her position as Mayor, and Matt hoped Sam could glean his sincerity among the nervous fumbling of words that didn't seem adequate to express his true feelings. Her own words were quiet and fervent, as if for his ears only, leaving everyone on the benches leaning forward and straining to hear. Anything left unsaid was expressed in their first kiss as man and wife.

They had the reception, swamped by the congratulations of what seemed the entire town, and after hours of celebration and well-wishing changed into warmer clothes and left the auditorium, shivering in the clear cold midafternoon sunlight.

As Matt looked around his hometown, Sam's hand holding his tight, it struck him that nothing seemed to have changed in Aspen Hill since entering the building that morning. The town was in the same bleak situation it had been before and everything looked the same, aside from one difference:

Whatever the future held, he and Sam would face it together.

* * * * *

Their honeymoon left something to be desired, since Matt had to continue his duties protecting the town and Sam had her own day to day work to do. There was also the fact that they had to share the underground shelter with 6 other people, which made intimacy a bit awkward even with the privacy screens. It often led to the rest of the family finding vague but important things to do outside that had the adults ushering the boys out with them to give the newlyweds some time to be alone.