Nuclear Winter | Book 2 | First Spring Read online

  Her disfigurement was new enough that she still had to be getting used to it, and Raul guessed it was pure agony to attend a wedding faced with the thought that she might never see one of her own. He genuinely sympathized with her.

  Of course, judging by her standoffish demeanor he guessed she wanted him to sympathize with her from a distance so she could have some space. That was fine with him. He wandered over to where Hailey was still seated with the keyboard, fingers dancing over the keys in a more upbeat, celebratory song.

  “Nice playing,” he offered.

  She gave him a dazzling smile, not missing a note even with her eyes on him. “Thanks. All those piano lessons, and I was afraid I'd never get to use them again after the Gulf burned.”

  “Music always has a place.”

  Hailey nodded, eyes going back to the keys as she reached an obviously difficult part of the song, brow furrowing in concentration. “You bet. Hey, if this shindig gets around to any dancing you should come find me. I'm always on the lookout for a partner who doesn't kick my shins.”

  Raul thought his dancing was a bit better than that the last time he'd escorted Hailey out on the floor, during Rick and Alice's wedding. He'd always gotten compliments about it. “It's a date,” he replied.

  As he walked away he immediately felt guilty for his flirting. He'd broken up with Mary because he thought she was too good for him, so what did that say about Hailey if he was willing to hit on her? She was cute, friendly, and obviously talented. So in other words another girl who was too good for Raul the Repentant Raider. Gutierrez the Guilty, um . . . Gunslinger?

  Mood dashed, not that it'd been great to begin with, he made his way around to congratulate Trev and Deb again and give them his best wishes. He did his best to avoid eye contact with Mary, who stood within arm's reach.

  Maybe the cold wasn't so tolerable after all. He was eager to get back to his little pillbox of a cabin, which was nice and warm and, most importantly, secluded.

  * * * * *

  Less than a half hour after the ceremony Trev, Deb, and the rest of the family retreated back to the cabin.

  For the rest of the day they hosted a constant stream of guests who came in to visit on rotation, crowding the small space until it was almost standing room only even though guests were constantly coming and going.

  Before too long Trev was absolutely exhausted just from being on his feet, and Deb had found a chair to slump down on beside him. After several hours, and two meals snatched during breaks in the press, the crowd finally thinned to just friends and family. Finally the Larsons and Watsons, last to leave, excused themselves with a final flurry of hugs, handshakes, and well-wishes.

  At that point the adults began sharing knowing looks. “You two look exhausted,” Aunt Eva said in a hinting tone. “Why don't you turn in early, and we'll all go over to our cabin and watch a movie?”

  “Or two movies,” Lewis said with a grin, squeezing Jane's hand as if sharing a fond memory.

  Trev felt a sudden surge of trepidation. They were mostly past Deb's hangups with intimacy, but this would be the ultimate test of that. On top of which there was the fact that he was about to enter territory that was, ah, outside his area of romantic expertise.

  He wasn't sure what Deb was thinking since he was looking anywhere but at her face, feeling his skin flush with embarrassment as he and his new wife were ushered into their room while the rest of the family bundled up to head out into the cold.

  Once the door was shut Deb slumped wearily against him with a sigh of relief. “That was nice,” she murmured. “But I'm glad it's over.”

  Trev looked down at her, illuminated in the soft blue glow of the LED Christmas lights, and immediately his nervousness vanished. There was his friend and the love of his life looking back at him, eyes shining with the strength of her own love for him. He felt a sudden surge of almost indescribable emotion, and on impulse leaned down to scoop his new wife into his arms.

  Deb gave a muted shriek of surprise and laughter, throwing her arms around his neck. “Not exactly across the threshold,” he said with a slight grin as he carried her the few steps to the bed and plopped down with her in his lap.

  She grinned back and leaned up to kiss him, letting her lips linger for almost half a minute. “At this point I'd say it's just super romantic that we can finally share a bed,” she said slightly breathlessly once she broke away. Then her expression clouded over, just for the briefest moment, as if remembering an old pain.

  Ah. Trev pulled her closer to hide his returning nervousness. He thought they were past the minefield, but was it time to start tiptoeing through it again? “It's been a long day,” he said hesitantly. “If you just want to sleep-”

  “Are you kidding?” Deb exclaimed, shifting around until she was straddling his lap. “I've been waiting for this for a month. I don't care if we'd just spent the entire day chopping firewood, the night's just starting.” She leaned forward to kiss him again, more fiercely this time, while simultaneously pushing his chest to make him fall backwards on the bed with her on top of him.

  And the love of his life took him by the hand and led him safely through the minefield with her.

  * * * * *

  On the eighth day after the wedding Trev was on top of the world as he got up early to do his chores and resume his duties as leader of the defenders.

  The last week had gone by in a blissful haze as he forgot that the outside world existed, or anything else but his new wife for that matter. It turned out marriage was pretty great, and he definitely recommended it.

  There had been a few uncertain spots, of course, not only as they explored their newfound intimacy but as they got used to their new roles as husband and wife. There always would be in a relationship, he supposed, and with what Deb had suffered as a prisoner of the blockheads they had some unique challenges to overcome. But with trust and a genuine effort to communicate he felt confident they were mostly there, and he was feeling more than hopeful about the future.

  His new wife was sleeping in that morning, since she was going to be resuming her own duties taking the evening shift at a sentry post and wanted to be well rested. So he quietly left their room and shut the door behind him.

  “Good morning!” he called quietly but enthusiastically to the rest of his family. And it was.

  They were all awake but still in bed, aside from Linda who was still burrowed under her blankets with only her mouth and nose showing, snoring softly.

  And his mom, who was already at the stove cooking breakfast. Which smelled delicious. “Morning,” she replied with an amused smile at his chipper mood. “Could you put another log in the stove for me?”

  “Sure.” Trev obligingly fetched a log from the indoor pile, which he or his dad refilled every week or so from the outside one, and popped open the door to the stove.

  At which point his mood was slightly dampened as a plume of acrid smoke rushed out; the previous log his mom had thrown in must've been green, which seemed to be happening more and more as they burned through their seasoned wood.

  He flinched back coughing as he tossed the log in and slammed the door shut behind it, waving a hand through the cloud of smoke to disperse it. Which only made it drift through the rest of the room even faster.

  “Ugh, not again!” came Linda's muffled voice from inside her burrow of blankets. “I'm going to get cancer breathing all this gunk.”

  “Crack the doors,” his mom called, sounding annoyed. Not at her daughter but at the situation. Or maybe a bit at her daughter. “Let's air it out quick before it settles in, then shut out the cold again.”

  Trev moved to comply, cracking open the back door into the latrine as well as the door on the far side that led outside. Jim hopped off his bed to get the front door, getting a cross-breeze blowing through the room. The frigid early morning air swirled in, cold enough to make goosebumps pop up on Trev's skin even though he'd just been next to the warmth of the stove. Thankfully it didn't take long to cl
ear the smoke out, and they quickly slammed the doors shut again.

  His mom sighed as he slipped past her to sneak one of the rice and egg cakes she was frying up for breakfast. “I suppose even with having to air the place out every now and again, burning green wood does more good than harm. I wish we could've let this wood sit for a year, though. Or better yet found a supply of coal to burn.”

  “Well there's plenty of coal in these mountains,” Trev said dryly, taking a bite of the hot cake. It nearly burned his tongue, and he spent the next few seconds with his mouth open sucking in air to cool it down.

  “Plenty” was almost an understatement. In fact he and Lewis had probably spent last winter on top of some of the stuff, since his cousin's hideout wasn't far from the entrance to an abandoned coal mine with tunnels snaking all through that mountain. Trev wasn't sure exactly when it had run out, although Lewis probably knew, but it had been decades ago. And up until the Gulf burned there'd been a few mines still operational in this area, and potential for more.

  “We could probably get a mining industry going as a way of helping rebuild the US,” he continued after he'd chewed and swallowed.

  “Believe me, you don't want to be a coal miner,” his mom replied, voice equally dry. “Your great grandfather worked as one for almost ten years. He started in his teens and finished when he was only a few years older than you, and the before and after pictures are shocking. Not to mention the recurring health issues.”

  Trev couldn't argue that. Still, it might be worth talking to Lewis about that abandoned mine. There might not've been enough there for commercial extraction when it was shut down, but there might still be plenty there to benefit the town, and the shafts were already dug and reinforced.

  Assuming they weren't in danger of imminent collapse after so long, and a bunch of idiots who had no idea what they were doing when it came to mining didn't go in and get themselves killed digging in the wrong spot.

  Maybe not such a great idea.

  “Well there's plenty of people looking for work, and we've got a huge demand for coal and other fossil fuels moving forward,” his dad said, glancing up from the book he was reading, a science textbook he'd borrowed from Chauncey. “Especially if the winters stay this bad and if we're forced to jump start our industry again. We'll probably want to mine other things and start production on all sorts of stuff.” He chuckled. “Maybe we can even reopen that steel mill by Utah Lake that closed down a couple decades ago. Assuming the blockheads didn't gut it with fire.”

  “I'd rather whoever's in charge of seeing to all that focuses on getting the power plants running and natural gas flowing again,” his mom replied, peering through the blackened pane on the stove's door to make sure the log had caught. “That way we won't have to worry about burning wood or coal and choking on smoke every half hour or so.”

  “Well coal does burn cleaner so it would be an improvement,” Trev said as he took another bite. “Isn't that how this conversation got started?”

  In response Clair threw up her hands. “If you seriously want to suggest it to your cousin I won't complain. Our family is already doing hunting, gathering, scavenging, ranching, construction, bullet reloading, woodcutting, beekeeping, and hopefully farming and gardening in the spring. Why not add mining and factory work to the list?”

  “I suppose that might be a bit out of the scope of the shelter group, and probably the entire town,” Trev agreed ruefully. “At least short term. It wouldn't hurt to consider doing something that could help us prosper in the future, though.”

  “The town could consider producing charcoal,” his dad suggested. “Especially if next winter is anything like this one. It may take a bit of extra work, but I'm sure Lewis has the information on how to do it in his archives, and Chauncey probably has some ideas too.”

  That was definitely a possibility. Trev shoved the last of the cake into his mouth and started buttoning up his coat. “I'm heading to the storehouse. If Chauncey's there I'll bring it up with him, see what he thinks.”

  “I suppose making charcoal could potentially be something we can do in the winter,” his mom agreed. “It would be safer for large fires, that's for sure.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Have a good first day back on the job, honey.”

  “Yeah, you can't spend your entire life in bed,” Linda agreed, as far as Trev could tell without the slightest trace of irony.

  Shaking his head, he headed out into the cold, hurrying to the path of trampled snow winding around houses to the center of town and the storehouse.

  Chauncey was limping his way over from the Watson cabin when Trev arrived, and Trev waited outside to greet him. “Have you heard the latest?” the retired teacher asked as he led the way inside, awkwardly easing down on the chair behind the radio desk with his prosthetic sticking straight out.

  Trev flushed with embarrassment. “I've been a bit busy.”

  His friend smiled at the implication. “Good for you.”

  There was that slight edge to Chauncey's voice, which Trev had heard a couple other times when talking to friends and family over the last week, the few times he'd ventured out of his room.

  Since everyone knew Deb was recovering from what she'd suffered at the hands of the blockheads, and her relationship with him had been slow and careful from the first, there was always the unspoken question of whether the marriage meant intimacy.

  To which the answer was yes. Very much so.

  So far Trev was letting Deb take the wheel, so to speak, making it clear she had control of the situation every step of the way so she'd be able to relax and overcome her reservations. They planned to have him take the initiative more as time went on, which she admitted she wanted, but for now he was more than content with how things were.

  Of course that wasn't the sort of question you asked even a good friend, especially where everyone was considerate of Deb's history and the challenges they'd had to overcome in their relationship. But it still hung around unasked, making things awkward with its very presence.

  “So what's the latest?” Trev asked to change the subject.

  Chauncey leaned forward intently. “Word is General Lassiter is promoting one of his staff to take his place so he can head back to Utah. With elections planned for spring he intends to retire from the military and announce his candidacy. He's likely coming back so he can immediately start campaigning.”

  Trev frowned. One of the biggest concerns the population had, and a driving force for the elections in the first place besides the desire to return to a state of normalcy, was the fact that nobody wanted the country to become a military dictatorship. “What do you think of that?” he asked.

  The older man paused thoughtfully. “It seems the General was planning to retire, and would have by this point if the Gulf hadn't burned. Everything we've seen of him so far has shown him to be decent and honorable. I'm no expert on political law, but as a civilian he'd be eligible to run for office. And the President is the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces in any case. The fact that the military is likely to be solidly behind him isn't necessarily a bad thing. If he runs and wins with the popular vote, as well as appointment by the Electoral College if we create one, then he's followed the proper procedure. It's not as if he's initiating a coup and seizing power.”

  “Will you vote for him?”

  Chauncey gave him a crooked grin. “That depends on his policies and the platforms of the other candidates. Just like any election.”

  Fair enough. “Speaking of which, are there any candidates yet?”

  “Dozens.” The retired teacher snorted, almost derisively. “It's all being done over the radio at the moment, but that hasn't stopped anyone. Since there are no formal parties, which means no usual pre-election procedures to weed out candidates, anybody who puts their name in the hat is in the running. Up to a point at least; I've heard there's a few basic barriers in place, popular support by a minimum number of potential voters is most likely, but they're not announcing s
pecifics yet. Although that hasn't stopped every Tom, Dick, and Harry with grand plans from flooding the airwaves encouraging people to throw their support behind them.”

  Sounded like a bit of a circus to Trev. He hoped it didn't get in the way of people's efforts to survive. And on that note . . . he gestured to the radio. “Any potential sightings of our attackers from the outside world?”

  Chauncey sighed and leaned forward to grab the headset and hang it around his neck. The radio was already on, since Derek Withers had recently finished his night shift manning it and gone home to sleep. Derek was one of the veterans the town had taken in who'd lost his leg at the hip, and because of that Chauncey had taken the man under his wing. Since the radio was used to coordinate the defenders as well as get news from the outside world operating it was an important job, and Trev was glad the retired teacher had some help.

  “Sightings? No. There's been a few reports of attacks and disappearances from all over the Utah Rockies, but none in our area aside from the Thanksgiving attack. I doubt they're in any way connected.”

  Trev hadn't really expected any good news there. “Gutierrez is going to be coming in soon to fill me in on what's happened while I was gone.”

  “Yeah, which isn't much. It's been a pretty uneventful week for everyone but our newlyweds.” His friend grinned crookedly and leaned forward to scratch at his leg around the prosthetic. “But either way welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” Trev settled behind the defender's desk and began looking over the papers on it. Gutierrez wasn't great about paperwork, although Trev supposed he shouldn't complain: aside from the duty roster and a list of pertinent details about currently volunteering defenders he wasn't really either.

  There were some hastily jotted notes about a few disagreements between townspeople and domestic disputes serious enough to require intervention, and a few travelers hauling sleds loaded with their possessions had passed by peacefully along the road just north of town, apparently leaving the refugee camp to the west so they could try their luck down in the valley below where the cold wasn't so bitter. The middle of winter seemed like a terrible time for such a move, but Trev supposed they had their reasons. He hoped things worked out for them.