Nuclear Winter | Book 2 | First Spring Page 15

  “I'll talk to Dr. Maggy and arrange a visit,” she said, nuzzling his shoulder. “I don't know what all we can do to be more careful this time. But we'll do it.” Her arms around him tightened fiercely. “We'll have this baby.”

  “We will,” he agreed encouragingly. “Want me to come with you?”

  Deb looked up and smiled slightly. “Husbands usually don't come along on visits to the gynecologist, even after the end of the world.” She started to kiss him, then reconsidered. “I need to rinse my mouth,” she muttered, pulling away and reaching for the drawer where she kept her toiletries, including what was left of a small bottle of mouthwash.

  Before taking a capful she turned to look at him. “Besides, you told Matt you'd help him plan the Retaliation ceremony.”

  Ah, right. Trev hoped it wasn't a bad sign that he'd discovered the news of his wife's pregnancy on the anniversary of the most horrific tragedy in human history. “You know where to find me,” he half asked, half assured her.

  Deb was already swishing. She gargled a response, waving for him to go on. Chuckling, he pulled her into a hug from behind and kissed her cheek before grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

  The worry was still there, and if anything he had even more reason to feel that way than Matt had with all his fretting. Even so he felt unaccountably cheerful as he rounded up Rick and Gutierrez and headed towards the field north of town.

  He didn't tell his friends the news, though. Maybe it was fearful or pessimistic, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words just yet.

  They arrived at the field to find that Trev wasn't the only one celebrating, although he was doing it inwardly and the family in front of him was definitely making a show of it. Aaron and Paul were on a low hillock dancing on a patch of brown, muddy grass, while Matt was crouched giving baby Olivia a chance to touch one of the new green shoots poking through, and Sam was standing beside them with a hand on her husband's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

  Well, maybe it wasn't all that strange. Aside from patches of torn up mud where too many people had trampled through the snow, this was Trev's first sight of an honest-to-goodness patch of bare ground not covered by snow since early last winter. There were probably plenty others out there, but here this one was.

  Matt stood as Trev and the others approached, the baby still reaching down for the grass. Sam plucked a blade free and gave it to her daughter, who clutched it in one chubby fist for a few seconds as if unsure what to do with it, then lifted it to her mouth for a taste. Sam hastily plucked it from the baby's grip, looking a bit embarrassed, and let it go to flutter down to the ground, where it rested on the snow in sharp contrast.

  “Maybe we should make this the new first day of spring,” Rick said with a grin.

  The Mayor's smile faded. “I'd say today is already significant enough,” he said. He silently handed Olivia to Sam, who held her close.

  Trev cleared his throat. “So how are we going to prepare to commemorate it? What sort of decorations and events did you have in mind? Should we build a podium for speeches?”

  His friend shook his head. “No, none of that. Nothing we could plan will do this tragedy justice.” He turned to look at the patch of bare grass in the center of the field. “We'll light a bonfire and have a silent vigil for the billions of lives lost.”

  “Isn't a bonfire a bit tasteless?” Gutierrez asked. “I mean since almost half the world burned, and-” He cut off, realizing everyone was staring at him in disbelief, and flushed. “Sorry.”

  “We can't spare candles, and a normal fire wouldn't be enough for light and heat. I suppose we could lay down logs and stumps for seats, but nothing too elaborate.” Matt rubbed his hands together determinedly. “Let's get started.”

  While Matt went to round up volunteers and Sam stuck around to watch the kids and cheer the workers on, Trev and his friends got busy scrounging up spare firewood. The town had a modest supply, for charity in emergency situations and for events like this. And quite a few people had logs and stumps available that they themselves had been using for seats. It didn't take long to set up a fire ring, lay down a tall crosshatched stack of logs ready to light, and arrange a couple rings of seats around it.

  Then, since they'd planned for a day spent making preparations and everything was done before noon, they all headed off to do their own thing. Trev sought out Deb, who'd returned from her visit and was helping his mom cook lunch.

  His wife had good news, at least in that there wasn't much they should be doing aside from being careful she didn't overexert herself, got plenty of rest and sunshine, stayed healthy, and engaged in regular light exercise. Without proper medical equipment or some obvious symptom to point to there really wasn't much to predict or identify a potential problem, so the important thing was not to worry, stay positive, and just go on with their daily lives.

  Of course even so Trev suggested his wife stop taking sentry duty shifts again, and was almost surprised when she agreed without a fuss; doctor's reassurances or not, they were both more worried than they let on.

  They spent a quiet afternoon relaxing in their room, and during the warmest part of the day went out for a stroll to watch the snow melting almost before their eyes, the ground wet with tiny rivulets of water running everywhere beneath the snow. The stream that ran down the valley was double its normal size, rising up its steep banks but with nowhere to spill over, so it just rushed twice as deep and fast on its usual course.

  That night the shelter group arrived early to the commemoration. Trev was surprised to find when they got there, and in the time they stayed, that far fewer people than expected showed up to stand or sit quietly around the fire. He wasn't sure if it was because nobody wanted to think of the horrors of the Retaliation that were so far removed from this little town in the valley, or if the lack of any planned event had failed to draw anyone's interest. Either way the small, respectful attendance was good in its own way.

  He and Deb stayed longer than most, but even they only stuck around for about an hour. During that time Trev's thoughts were on the mushroom cloud he'd seen north of the internment camp in Michigan, and all the prisoners who'd tried to flee it and their blockhead captors both. Hundreds of thousands of people, and he doubted many had made it to freedom. At best the survivors were prisoners of the Gold Bloc, slaves being brutally mistreated as punishment for the nuclear strike ordered by their leaders.

  The thought reminded him of Deb's own suffering, and he held his wife closer to him in the warmth of the fire. He hoped all her grief was behind her, and there was only joy ahead. She deserved that, and he was determined to do everything he could to provide it for her.

  The bonfire was still burning bright when they left, although only a handful of people remained. From Trev's experience with bonfires it would probably burn through the night, and maybe that was a fitting tribute to the lives lost: the fire itself standing vigil.

  * * * * *

  With the slow but steady retreat of snow in the valley, and temperatures rising to the 40s and low 50s, came the debate about when to plant.

  Or, as some argued, if.

  Nuclear winter had thrown the weather into chaos, which was always bad for agriculture. The first and most obvious problem was that they couldn't go off the recommended planting dates on their seed packets, and for those who'd done some gardening before now their painstakingly accumulated experience of growing plants in this area of Utah had to be mostly thrown out the window.

  Even if they played it by ear a sudden drop in temperature might kill their crops, which would be more than an inconvenience when a good harvest was so desperately needed. But the summer months were going to be short and winter would be swinging back in all too soon, so they couldn't wait too long to plant waiting for it to be warm enough, or the crops wouldn't ripen in time.

  Hence the “if” argument.

  Trev was glad Lewis had thought of building a greenhouse, and had pushed to get it done in time for it to be
useful. They already had their more temperature sensitive plants growing in there, and so far they were doing well.

  As for the outdoor gardens, they got started on the cold weather crops as soon as they dared, staggering their planting over a period of two weeks so a sudden cold snap in the interim wouldn't kill everything. Luckily that cold snap never came, although it came perilously close a couple nights and the rising shoots had a slightly ragged look for a while.

  Most of the cold weather plants were leafy greens, roots, or cruciferous vegetables. That meant harvest wouldn't be as exciting a time for the kids, especially where the greens with sharper flavors like kale and chard were concerned.

  Or who knew? Maybe after a year and a half of eating bland staples and meats with little variety, punctuated occasionally by the processed foods from the military windfall, the chance to eat something fresh with new flavors would be exciting for even kids who'd turned their nose up at the broccoli on their plate before the Gulf burned. Younger kids could be picky, but as long as they weren't spoiled they were usually pretty good about eating most fruits and vegetables.

  And it wasn't just the planting that had the town busy; with the snow finally mostly melted the languid pace of winter vanished into a flurry of activity.

  There were all sorts of goals to accomplish, from things that needed to be done, to things that should be done, to things people wanted done. There were preparations to make for the future, tasks to improve people's immediate comfort, incomplete projects from last fall that they could finally finish to improve everyone's quality of life, and more.

  It didn't seem like there were enough hours in the day.

  One of the first priorities along with planning for crops was setting up animal pens and letting their livestock out of the barn so they could begin grazing, to conserve the remainder of their nearly depleted fodder. And construction on houses needed to continue so all the townspeople crammed into cabins with other families could finally get some space.

  And even though it was lower priority, Trev's mom insisted that their house should receive a thorough spring cleaning as soon as possible. Not only was hygiene a concern, but it would improve the smell and allow them all to be more comfortable living in a place that didn't feel so grungy. Which maybe made it higher priority after all.

  First things first was washing and airing every bit of cloth in the place, including emptying the straw tick mattresses and refilling them with fresh meadow grass, which they had to go down into the foothills east of the mountains and cut from the lower slopes, where the snow was gone and the grass was growing fast and furious.

  Then she wanted the stove emptied of ash and thoroughly scoured with sand, including the stovepipes. She wanted the windows and walls washed and all the furniture dusted or scrubbed down, and the exterior of the cabin gone over and re-chinked and repaired.

  Last on the list was spring cleaning for the cabin's occupants. With the outdoor latrine now useable again she converted the lean-to off the back door into a temporary bathroom, in the literal sense of the word, borrowing a large tub from the Watson family so everyone could thoroughly wash up. Then she insisted on giving everyone haircuts and supervised the men of the house in shaving clean.

  With all that done, and being dressed in clean clothes, Trev almost felt like a new person. Of course he knew he'd immediately have to get back to difficult and dirty manual labor, which sort of put a damper on things.

  Although on the upside, after he finished his bath he was ambushed by an also freshly scrubbed Deb, her brown hair brushed until it shone. His wife insisted on dragging him into their room to break in their newly cleaned bed before they got back to work.

  That definitely made all their cleaning efforts feel worthwhile.

  Trev, his dad, and Jim were tasked with moving the furniture, dismantling the stove and moving it outside to clean, and the other more physically demanding jobs, while his mom and Deb took care of the washing.

  Linda wasn't left out of the work, though; in fact her current task for the spring cleaning was no joke. With no vacuums available to clean the cabin's carpet, and sweeping only able to do so much, Trev and his dad had worked together to move things around while they tore it out, then hung it on a thick cable between two sturdy poles.

  That's where his sister came into the picture. Her job was to take a solid wooden bat and beat every single mote of dust out of the thing, then scrub it down with soap and water and let it dry in the sun. Their mom had sternly warned her that her arms should be dead weights hanging limply from her shoulders and every inch of her back sore by the time she was finished: she wanted the job done properly.

  Although from the looks of things it wouldn't be Linda's muscles and joints that'd be aching.

  At the sight of the young woman busy at work Alvin Harding had paused in his own tasks to come hover hopefully, in case she was in the mood to socialize. It turned out she was, as long as he was willing to take the bat from her and put his muscles to work while she talked his ear off.

  Then, to make the situation even more absurd, Wes Watson had come by and also been drawn into her well of personal magnetism, circling around until he was caught as well, his other duties forgotten. Now he was taking turns with Alvin, and Linda was just about to go and grab the soap and water for the next stage of the job, which she'd also likely assume a supervisory role for.

  Trev watched it all as he scrubbed out the stove. He supposed he should be annoyed that his sister had fobbed her work off on someone else, but most of what he felt was amusement. He recalled hearing somewhere that tragedy was comedy when seen from a distance. The two young men weren't doing the young woman any favors by doing her work for her, and he was sure they had better things to do, but that was their own business.

  Of course other people thought differently. Specifically Jim, recently returned from checking on the beehives. His brother took one look at the scene and exploded in outrage. “Hey!” he shouted at his friends. “That's her job!”

  Alvin, currently hanging out with Linda watching Wes work, gave the younger boy an irritated look for butting in. “It's getting done either way, isn't it?”

  “That's not the point. She barely does any work as it is.”

  Wes stopped swinging the bat, panting slightly, and turned to give Trev a questioning look as if asking if he was going to let that stand. Trev held his hands up to show he wasn't getting involved, so Wes spoke up. “That's not cool, man. You should treat your sister with some respect.”

  Jim laughed. “What, like she treats you?”

  Neither of the two young men was particularly amused by the comment, and from their expressions it looked as if an argument was about to start. Linda, face pink with embarrassment and obviously afraid the ruckus would draw the attention of their parents to the fact that she wasn't doing her own work, hastily began ushering the Alvin and Wes away. “Don't worry about him, guys. Thanks for your help, I've got it from here.”

  “Sure,” Alvin said, expression hopeful. “Hey, I was going to head upstream to see if my snares caught any of the ducks or geese that've been flying north. I've been trying to catch some alive . . . you know, add some variety to the fowl in our coop. Want to come along?”

  “Oh.” Linda's obvious reluctance was almost insulting. “I, um, we've got all this work to do with the spring cleaning. But if you're around this evening I'll come say hi.”

  Wes, who looked as if he'd been on the verge of making a similar offer, clammed up. Looking a bit glum, the two young men allowed themselves to be shooed away. Once they were gone Linda turned to glare furiously at her younger brother, then stalked over and snatched up the bat. Judging by how fiercely she went after the carpet Trev had the feeling she was imagining clobbering something else.

  Jim wasn't willing to let it go with just chasing the wannabe lovebirds away, though. “I don't get why those two are still going for you,” he groused. “They've been around you long enough to see what a horrible personality you have,
and that you don't know how to do anything and even if you did you wouldn't because you're too lazy.”

  The bat slipped out of Linda's hands, and she stepped back as if slapped. With some effort she gathered up her dignity. “Maybe they're not shallow like you, and like a girl for who she is and not what she has to offer.”

  Jim burst out laughing. “Seriously? Knowing who you are should be the biggest turnoff. Besides, caring about everything besides a girl's looks is the opposite of shallow, so you'd better hope you find someone shallow enough to want you. Your looks are all you've got going for you, and you should be overjoyed the world is full of guys stupid enough to overlook everything else. They almost deserve you.”

  “That's enough,” Trev snapped and straightened from the stove, finally deciding he should step in. Jim turned a glare his way, but in just that short time the fight was over because their sister was already rushing away, eyes brimming with tears.

  “Am I wrong?” his brother demanded, anger giving way to defensiveness.

  “It doesn't matter,” Trev replied wearily. “Some things shouldn't be said. No good can come of them. Besides, she's been improving as a person lately.”

  Jim was quiet for a moment. “Not that I can see. And unlike you I don't have the luxury of my own room so I can avoid her. It'll be years before she's old enough to get married, and until then I'm stuck dealing with her.”

  “Keep filling her mind with the idea that nobody wants her and she can't improve and shouldn't even try, and she might decide you're right. Then you'll be stuck with her even longer.” Trev put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Whatever you say, I know you love your sister. We want her to be a better person. We should be encouraging her, not tearing her down.”

  “I guess.” The young man kicked at the ground. “It just pisses me off watching those two drool after her while she treats them like dirt, and they keep coming back for more. They're better than that.”