Nuclear Winter | Book 2 | First Spring Read online

  Then his satisfaction vanished as Carrie threw her utensils down, swore at him, and stormed off.

  He stared at her retreating back in shock, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Had that just been a situation where nothing he did could've helped, or had he seriously messed up there? And as importantly, had he just torpedoed their relationship, whatever it was?

  Carrie had been so angry she'd left her pack behind without realizing it. He scooped it up along with his own and started for their truck. Halfway across the marketplace he saw the young woman hurrying back, obviously having realized her mistake. When she saw him carrying her pack her expression became relieved, although still furious. She wordlessly stomped up to him, snatched her possessions from his offering hand, and stomped away again with body language that suggested she'd rip him to shreds if he tried to follow.

  Which meant not only had he just royally messed things up but the truck was off limits for the foreseeable future. Great.

  With a sigh Raul shifted directions and started browsing the market stalls. He still had money left and didn't mind doing a bit of evening shopping, and if they were leaving tomorrow morning this would be his last chance.

  Maybe with a few good purchases he could salvage something of the disaster this night had turned into.

  * * * * *

  Carrie insisted Lewis go to bed as soon as she got back, assuring him she'd take first shift on watch.

  Lewis was more than happy to comply. He had a feeling something had happened, judging by her demeanor, but she refused to answer his questions and he was too tired to pursue it. So he gratefully zipped himself into his tent and fell asleep with his weapon nearby in case of another raid.

  Gutierrez woke him up for the last shift, a full hour later than he should've by Lewis's watch. Grateful for the added sleep, he got to work on the preparations to leave while the night faded away to predawn. Around that time people began stirring in the surrounding camp in increasing numbers, including Gutierrez and Carrie not too long before dawn; together his friends helped him pack up their campsite and do a bit of final bit of maintenance and inspection on their fully loaded truck and trailer.

  They nearly had everything ready to go when Lieutenant Faraday came around. Lewis expected the junior officer to want an update on their progress or give them a departure time, but the man barely seemed to notice their work tying everything down for the trip.

  “I know from personal experience the two of you can handle yourself in a fight,” he said right off the bat, nodding at Lewis and Gutierrez. “And you're a veteran, Ms. Grant. So I can count on all of you to take care of yourselves if there's trouble, right?”

  That wasn't the most reassuring way to start a conversation. “What're we looking at?” Lewis asked.

  The lieutenant glanced towards the northeast, expression tight. “We got a warning from our Canadian friends, who wisely had people out scouting the route back to the eastern States. Their scouts reported back sightings of blockhead trucks on the road and at potential ambush sites. The Canadians are worried their convoy might be attacked, and warned us to watch out for the same.”

  Lewis was stunned by that news. Sure, the CCZ representatives had been unpleasant and provocative, but otherwise they hadn't actually attempted any aggression at the summit. “Would they actually try to rob us coming back from a meeting Mexico invited us all to?”

  “Why not?” Faraday replied dourly. “Mexico's guarantee of protection ends at their border, and they probably won't do more than express disapproval at an incident anywhere else. Maybe not even that, if they thought it might hamper their trade with the CCZ. As for the blockheads, they're already at war with both us and Canada and it's not like anything they did could make us hate their guts any more than we already do.”

  “De verdad,” Gutierrez muttered in agreement.

  Carrie scowled. “I can't believe Mexico wants to get in bed with those snakes, and is dragging us in too.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “They're trying to maximize their profits by selling to everyone. Even if it hurts their other customers, they won't realize they're making a mistake by feeding the beast until it bites them.”

  “If they won't do anything then what are we doing about it?” Lewis asked.

  Faraday straightened briskly. “Well first off we'll be changing routes. We might even consider clipping through a fallout zone farther to the west if the wind's blowing the other way. The blockheads, especially the Chinese, took a real beating from radiation during the fighting, so they'll probably be leery of getting too close to any more of it.”

  Carrie snorted. “And we aren't?”

  The junior officer shrugged in answer. “We'll also send scouts ahead to scour all possible routes, as well as radioing for our people in Utah to send help from their direction. In a worst case scenario we keep you folks back and send the convoy's escort ahead to drop thunder and lightning on a few cowardly blockhead ambushers.”

  “Wouldn't worst case be us getting caught by surprise and having to defend the convoy en route?” Lewis asked.

  “Right. So it's a good thing you folks have all seen more than your fair share of combat,” Faraday shot back, more annoyed than humored.

  Gutierrez nodded. “We'll be ready for whatever you need from us.”

  “Fair enough.” The man turned and walked on to the next vehicle in the line.

  A tense silence settled as they finished up the final preparations. “We always knew there was a risk blockheads would attack the convoy,” Lewis finally said.

  Gutierrez had already begun checking his weapons and gear, including putting on his body armor and digging out his helmet so it was handy. Lewis followed suit, and Carrie reluctantly joined them. She'd been discharged from service with not much more than the clothes on her back and her personal possessions, but for this trip the town had provided her with weapons and Jane had loaned her body armor. The young woman looked surprisingly comfortable kitted out for fighting, and in this context her scars made her look fierce rather than pitiable.

  A soldier came running down the line with the news that the possibility of attack had pushed up their timetable for departure. As long as the scouts had enough time to check the way ahead, the faster the convoy moved the less forewarning their enemies would have that they were coming.

  They piled into the truck, Gutierrez behind the wheel and Lewis in the passenger's seat with his weapons ready. Carrie perched in the middle, looking irritated about being in the least useful spot.

  Or maybe that wasn't what was irritating her. Lewis had been so intent on the preparations that morning that he hadn't paid much attention to his friends. Now he could see the way they sort of leaned away from each other even though they were crammed together where they almost had to touch, and he also realized Gutierrez didn't look too happy about the seating arrangements, either.

  Had they been in a fight? As a friend he felt for what that might mean for their relationship, but as a traveling companion his pragmatic side couldn't help but imagine days crammed in this cab enduring their frosty silence.

  The convoy left without fanfare, pulling through their entrance in the fence and roaring down the roads leading to I-10 at the best speed their vehicles could manage. For the rest of the day they stopped as infrequently as possible, trying to jam all necessary activities into the few stops they did make so they could get back on the road quickly.

  They couldn't move fast, but even so Lewis felt bad for the scouts in the faster vehicles that had to keep ahead of them while ensuring the way was clear of danger.

  As he'd feared, things were awkward in the cab with Gutierrez and Carrie trying hard to pretend the person sitting right next to them didn't exist. Having music to listen to helped, but it was still barely tolerable. Lewis was almost tempted to cram himself into the back of the truck with the supplies to avoid the tension.

  They parked for the night near one of Mexico's border posts. The few dozen soldiers there wer
e a bit less than half the number the convoy had brought, and their defensive emplacements weren't all that great. But Lewis had a feeling Erikson's main purpose for stopping under their protection was so that Mexico couldn't look the other way if the convoy came under attack that night.

  The next day everyone woke up bright and early, tense and ready to go even before Faraday's soldiers came around warning they'd soon be leaving. It was in Lewis's mind that even though yesterday's drive had been uneventful that wasn't exactly a relief, since they'd been driving through territory claimed by Mexico the entire time. Today they'd be crossing the border, and there was no telling what might happen then.

  To his relief, and the rest of the convoy's he was sure, the lieutenant had good news there. Instead of heading back the way they'd come they'd be taking smaller roads and heading much farther west, clipping through the Las Vegas fallout zone before making their way up into Utah.

  It was such a circuitous, unused, unpredictable, and inconvenient route, not to mention taking them far from CCZ territory, that Lewis couldn't imagine encountering any enemies along it. Aside from bandits, he supposed, but he had a hard time seeing any of those setting up in this arid wasteland hoping to catch travelers that would never come.

  At least his companions seemed to have relaxed a bit. There was no more flirting, but at least they talked to each other and to Lewis fairly civilly. Relieving that particular source of tension also helped relieve the tension Lewis felt about a possible attack, incongruous as that seemed.

  It took them most of the day to reach the Las Vegas fallout zone, and by the time they'd meandered their way along its perimeter on smaller roads it was nearly sundown. The few views they got of the desert city were dominated by the twisted, blasted steel cores of the high rises along the strip, like macabre skeletons of what had once been some of the most opulent buildings in the country.

  Lewis supposed the only consolation to be had in those awful glimpses of the nuked city was that most of its population would've fled due to lack of water long before being caught by the strike. That or, more cynically, the majority of them had realized any attempt to escape the city and make their way through the desert landscape on foot would almost certainly be fatal, and had starved or died of thirst while waiting for help. There was no telling how many of those poor people had left their remains behind to burn in nuclear fire.

  Even more cynical, but more important to their immediate needs, by nuking Vegas the Gold Bloc had denied the struggling remnant of the United States all the wealth that had been there. They'd have no option to scavenge in the city, the trade opportunities of which would've solved their food needs, and pretty much all their other needs, for years to come.

  He supposed the small silver lining to that harkened back to Colonel Grimes's complaint about the refugees in the camp being slow to get off dependence on the military and start fending for themselves. With enough resources to keep them fed without a lick of work for who knew how long, would they ever have gotten back to living their lives on their own?

  And once the free food did run out after so long being dependent on that handout and feeling entitled to it, how many would be willing to turn to toil rather than a violent revolt?

  Granted, the wealth could've done a lot of good and there were plenty of ways to use it without leading to dependency and entitlement. But handouts were the easiest and most popular method in spite of their long term destructiveness, so it was the one people generally pushed for.

  Lewis wasn't the only one in the truck who breathed a sigh of relief when word came over the CB that they were officially out of the fallout zone. Although not too deep a sigh: they'd had the windows up and the air off, enduring stale air growing increasingly rank with body odor. Although that wasn't the main reason why Lewis had found himself breathing shallowly for the last few hours. It was impossible not to while imagining air laden with radioactive dust filling his lungs.

  Just to be cautious he had them wait for ten more miles beyond that point before letting them roll the windows down and suck in fresh air in great panting gulps. Lewis actually leaned out the window and closed his eyes, letting the wind blast him and steal the stale air in his lungs away. Then he and Carrie traded places so she could do the same.

  They camped later than usual, the military also seeming to want to be far away from the fallout zone before stopping for any long period of time. As Lewis and his companions were setting up their tents teams of soldiers came by with Geiger counters to check them and their truck.

  From the sounds of it radiation levels were tolerable all along the convoy. “We're lucky it wasn't too windy today,” the technician running the equipment said as he packed up to move on. “Conditions were pretty ideal for the risk we took.”

  Lewis was glad about that, since he wasn't sure whether avoiding a blockhead ambush would've been worth getting a light dusting of radiation. Then again everyone in the convoy had been willing to follow the military through the fallout zone, hadn't they?

  Either way they were through, and fingers crossed the ruins of Las Vegas had been the last major obstacle between them and home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Final Stretch

  Lewis had one of those nights where his accumulated lack of sleep finally caught up with him.

  Carrie offered to take his shift, probably feeling guilty about how often he and Gutierrez had covered for her during the trip. Since she was also better rested than either of them, having found more opportunities to catch naps during the drive, Lewis gratefully accepted the offer.

  He slept like a log right up until the rumble of starting engines from the convoy preparing to leave roused him not long after dawn. Blearily stumbling from his tent, he broke camp along with his friends in the growing light, then piled into the cab to head out.

  It was a nice morning, the air crisp and tasting surprisingly good considering they weren't all that far from the irradiated ruins of a major city. With the windows rolled down it wasn't long before the bite to the steady breeze cleared the fog in Lewis's mind, allowing him to enjoy the majestic scenery around him as they waited for the convoy to pull out.

  With the lingering threat of attack the convoy kept to its goal of getting home as fast as possible, so the lead vehicles started rolling even earlier than they had the morning before. And that threat was at the front of everyone's minds: thanks to the route the military had chosen they'd be forced to drive along I-15 for a ways, the first major highway they'd taken since leaving I-10.

  Lewis wasn't the only one painfully aware that that would be their most vulnerable stretch; if an ambush were to happen, it would happen there. The CB was strangely silent as they drove, everyone else harboring the same worries and staying attentive to possible threats rather than indulging in chatter that would be a distraction.

  It took about an hour to reach the interstate, and at that point tensions stepped up another notch. Lewis kept his eyes peeled for signs of danger through the windows and mirrors, but wasn't willing to roll down the passenger window to lean out for a better look behind and to the side.

  He wanted the reinforced glass between him and anything that might be lurking out there.

  Unfortunately neither their caution nor their fears were unfounded. They'd barely gone twenty miles along I-15 before Gutierrez was abruptly forced to mash the brakes as the truck in front of them screeched to a halt. The soft thump they heard from behind suggested that even though they'd barely been going over 40, the driver following them had been inattentive and failed to stop in time.

  The idiot better not have damaged the trailer or done anything to make the food inside spill out, Lewis thought to himself as he leaned his head against the passenger window to see what was going on ahead. Although that was a fleeting thought quickly drowned out by growing alarm.

  This stretch of highway spread across a fairly flat, barren plain, with the road cutting through steep hills ahead, hills behind, and scattered hills off to either side. Fr
om the cut ahead he saw the flash of a large explosion, and moments later the noise and pressure of it rocked the truck.

  Gutierrez swore and jammed the truck into reverse, starting to back them up to turn around even as their CB came to life with voices yelling for everyone to head back the way they'd come. With the overloaded animal trailer attached to the truck maneuvering was a nightmare, and from what Lewis could see many of the other trucks in the convoy were having similar problems. It was a confused mess that was going to take minutes to sort out, all the while the explosions from up ahead continued, soon joined by the sound of gunfire, most notably the heavy sawing of mounted machine guns.

  Lewis did his best to guide his friend in backing up without leaving the truck or rolling down the window. It wasn't much, but eventually they managed to get turned the other way on the wide highway and joined the line of fleeing trucks gunning for every bit of speed they could manage to escape the fighting.

  Then that line of trucks screeched to a halt as well. Since they'd been near the back of the convoy, and so were near the front of this line, Lewis could see the reason for that.

  The rearguard had been much quicker about turning around and zooming the other way to make sure the path was clear for the fleeing convoy. Only it wasn't: about a mile ahead the half dozen trucks were defensively fanned out across the road just short of the hills they'd recently passed, where another element of ambushing blockheads had set up.

  The convoy was pinned down with nowhere to go.

  The CB abruptly crackled with an authoritative voice demanding silence. He soon got it and wasted no time in continuing. “We're stuck in a pincer attack, with front and rearguards pinned down dealing with serious threats. Because of that you'll have to handle whatever else the blockheads send at us on your own.”

  Lewis's first thought, as out of place considering the urgency of the situation as it was, was that even though he had no formal training in strategy, he was pretty sure an attack from front and behind wasn't technically a pincer attack.