Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1) (19 page)

Matt supposed he could understand why the Mayor wouldn't want to be there when the group arrived, so he wouldn't have to say the same things all over again. Maybe he even planned for the refugees themselves to give the bad news and send the group on south, in their hope that if their camp remained small eventually the town might take pity and let them in.

In a way it was the very sight of how Aspen Hill was by necessity treating these poor people that made up Matt's mind. If Terry and April and their two young sons could expect the same sympathy and charity on their trip south, a trip he was more and more sure they'd
have
to make to escape the chaos in the cities, they were in for some bad times.

He had to go up there and help them, had to find them himself and personally make sure they made it back down to Aspen Hill safely. He'd never forgive himself if they vanished into a sea of human suffering and he never learned what happened to them, with only guilty nightmares fed with details from the refugees to hint at their fate.

He needed to make the trip north, but he wasn't sure he could do it alone.

* * * * *

Trev was extra vigilant after encountering the three refugees the day before. The knowledge that there were people coming directly for Aspen Hill, and thanks to things like GPS could do it without even following the highway, made it all the more likely he might encounter more.

Not to mention that after turning refugees away there was a much greater chance people might try to sneak into the town, and under those circumstances it was unlikely their intentions would be honorable.

So far he hadn't met anyone else off the road, though. The rest of his patrol yesterday had been uneventful, and this morning he also hadn't seen anyone except people passing south on Highway 6. Rick Watson, who'd had the night patrol from 10 til 6, said he hadn't seen anyone either, which made sense since not many people would be traveling off the road at night.

Turner had finally put more men on the patrol roster, three to be exact. Also kids, to be exact. Trev had to wonder if there'd been less volunteers for the job of walking 20 miles over a period of eight hours compared to six hours sitting behind a roadblock, and only the younger guys had the energy to try it out. Rick, his brother Wes, and Pete Childress were all still in high school, Rick a senior and Wes and Pete sophomores, with Pete about six months older than Wes.

All claimed to know how to shoot and had been given weapons to take on patrol from the stockpile Mr. Tillman had donated to the town storehouse, but Lewis had still insisted they avoid trouble entirely and just radio in if anyone approached the town, then abandon their patrol until Turner could send men to turn the interlopers back. The three kids hadn't been happy at that, and Trev had a feeling if they did run into anyone while on patrol they'd try to handle it themselves.

Stupid, to assign those three. Even if there weren't any other volunteers Trev didn't like the thought of kids that young patrolling alone. Sure, Rick was only a few years younger than him so the sentiment was a bit absurd, but he still wished they'd been put on the roadblocks and Turner had sent older, more experienced men who could handle any difficult situations that might come up. And if nobody volunteered he should have gone the next step and assigned people anyway.

Trev also didn't like them being armed, since it was anyone's guess whether they might waste time and bullets taking potshots at shrubs to pass the time, or might panic in a tense situation and shoot first and ask questions later. From what he knew of the three they were good guys, at least, but he wasn't sure they were up to the task.

He also had to admit that getting only three more people was kind of BS. That still meant taking every fifth patrol, which meant at best he'd be out here every other day. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers.

At the moment Trev was heading west towards the foothills, after spending a bit more time than usual on the eastern tip of the patrol hill overlooking Highway 6 watching what seemed like an endless trickle of refugees clumped in small groups passing by. He'd radioed their presence in, but judging by the apathy of the response he had a feeling people heading south on the highway weren't exactly news anymore. He only hoped Anderson and Turner had thought of how they were going to deal with things when that trickle of humanity became a stream or even a river. Especially if they decided to take a detour into Aspen Hill.

The fact that they were there was another reason why Trev had to be more watchful, so even though he walked faster than usual to make up for lost time along the beginnings of a trail their constant walking back and forth had trampled, he also stopped more often to peer north over the top of the hill, and tried to do it behind cover.

When the highway was about a mile behind him he paused yet again to poke his head up behind a familiar shrub, using the scope of his Mini-14 to save time rather than taking the trouble of getting out his binoculars and putting them back. He didn't see anything, and he was about to sling his rifle over his shoulder and duck back down to the trail to continue when he caught sight of a flash of blue disappearing behind a patch of tall bushes down below.

He paused and started to lift his rifle to check through the scope again, then thought better of basically muzzling a living target and finished putting it away, going for the binoculars instead. He lifted them just in time to see a woman wearing a bulging school backpack stumble into sight from behind the last bush in the patch, heading his way.

She was older than him, late 20s or early 30s probably, wearing short shorts and a snug sleeveless T-shirt. He doubted she'd intended to wear those clothes when she set out, or maybe she had. Either way she had to be regretting it now with her exposed skin fiery red with sunburn and her legs scratched from pushing through underbrush. She also had that dusty look of someone who'd been walking off the road for a while, and her steps were uneven and clumsy like she was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

A refugee from the group he'd watched passing on the highway? There weren't too many other explanations considering the direction she was coming from. But no, if she'd just left the highway she wouldn't be that dusty and scratched up, would she? She looked as if she'd been trailblazing for a while.

Unfortunately the trail she was blazing pointed right for Aspen Hill, and even slow and plodding as she was she'd reach it eventually.

Trev grimaced, really hating this turn of events. He knew what he had to do, and this was why he was out here. It was a duty he'd volunteered for himself after insisting that they couldn't let the refugees in, and he hadn't changed his mind on that count. He just hadn't expected he'd have to turn away a starving woman who obviously needed help.

Why couldn't it have been a group of ragged and belligerent ruffians who'd cuss him out and make it feel easy for him to turn them back? Trev had lost most of his guilt about the three men yesterday after the guy his age flipped him off. Although even if this woman made it unpleasant he didn't think he could possibly turn her back without feeling like complete garbage.

Still, no help for it. For good or ill the City Council had spent the emergency money on other things, and there simply wasn't any food for even a few dozen refugees, let alone a few hundred. The town would be lucky to survive the winter as it was. Trev took a reluctant breath and stood, crossing the top of the hill and making his way through the sage on the downward slope towards her.

The woman's head was hung low in exhaustion, eyes on the ground, and she didn't even see or hear him coming until he reached the bottom of the hill, more than halfway to her. But finally she paused, tucking a strand of blond hair hanging in front of her eyes back behind one ear, and looked up. She immediately saw him and froze, eyes widening with fear. Without a word she shrank back, nearly stumbling on a stone she'd just stepped over, and her eyes darted between his face and the Mini-14 poking over his shoulder.

“It's all right,” Trev hurriedly called, carefully keeping his hands at his sides to show he meant no harm. He didn't relish turning her back but he certainly didn't want to frighten her. “I'm a scout from the nearby town.”

A sort of desperate relief filled the woman's face. “A town!” she breathed. “How far? Is there a place I can stay?”

Seeing her pitiable condition was almost enough to make him rethink his insistence that they turn away the refugees. Even knowing the grim reality of the situation it seemed inhuman to have to refuse her, monstrous even, and he felt physically sick as he forced himself to shake his head. “I'm sorry, I'm here to turn everyone back. The town is walled off between the hills, all the roads blocked. We're not letting anyone in.”

Her relief slowly bled away into a sort of stunned disbelief. “But they told me there'd be a place for me when they sent me south away from the riots.”

Trev couldn't meet her large blue eyes, welling with tears, and had to look away. “Which town were you sent to?”

“P-Price,” she said in a quavering voice. “I'm almost there, aren't I? Is that the town you're guarding?”

“No, Price is farther south. If you follow this hill behind me east you'll reach Highway 6 in about a mile. You can follow it south to where you're going, and you'll find refugees who can help you get there.” As he finished speaking he started to unsling his daypack to give her all the food and water he had. He couldn't let her past but he wasn't completely heartless.

She must have thought he was going for his .223. “No!” she nearly screamed, stumbling forward a few steps before dropping to her knees. At first Trev assumed she'd tripped until he realized she was literally begging. “I can't go back to that! You don't know what it was like in the group I was traveling with, what they do to-” she cut off with a ragged breath and lifted her clasped hands beseechingly. “Please, whatever your name is. I'll-I'll make it worth your while if you let me into your town. I'll do anything.”

From the way the woman said it Trev had a feeling he knew exactly what she was offering, and the sick feeling in his gut got worse. He'd never even considered going to a prostitute or paying for sex, but even if he had he'd never forgive himself if he forced this woman to resort to such a desperate act just to survive.

Nothing up to this point had come close to driving home the point of just how bad things had become, or how much worse things would become before they got better. If they ever did. And Trev's resolve completely vanished in the face of his disgust at himself. “No, it's all right,” he said quickly, “I'll bring you in. We can't let you stay, I'm sorry, but at least we can give you a meal and a bed and maybe some food to help you get to Price.”

Her hopelessness was replaced by an almost absurd look of relief and gratitude, and seeing it Trev had to look away again, for some reason feeling even more guilty than with her begging. “Oh thank you, thank you! I won't cause any trouble, I promise. I'm a good person, I'll get along. And maybe when you see that you'll let me stay.”

Trev didn't respond, and he still couldn't look at her as he realized why he felt so awful. How many other good people would they have to turn away? Would his neighbors have any more stomach for the task than he did? He could convince himself it was just one person he was bringing in, and just a single meal and maybe a few provisions, but there'd be more situations like this in the future. Probably every day if things among the refugee groups on the highway were as bad as this woman made it sound. With so many they wouldn't even be able to offer a meal to most, which meant they'd either have to turn away people in this same sort of desperate circumstance, or try to help and end up starving along with them.

But then he'd known it would come to this from the moment he joined Lewis in arguing that point at the town meeting. The expression “damned if you do, damned if you don't” had never felt more applicable.

“I'm Trev,” he said, offering her his hand.

She took it with both hers and clasped it like a lifeline. “Amanda Townsend, but call me Mandy. Thank you!”

Trev retrieved his hand as quickly as he could without being rude, and to disguise it finished his earlier motion of reaching into his daypack to pull out a bag of jerky and his water bottle. Mandy accepted them almost reverently, although she wasted no time in lifting the stainless steel container to her cracked lips and swallowing in desperate gulps.

In spite of her sunburn and grime she was an attractive woman, although considering her earlier offer it almost felt wrong to notice that.

He walked a few steps away while she ate and drank and pulled the radio off his belt. “Trevor Smith on the northern border here,” he said. “Can you send someone else to take my place out here for a few hours? I'm bringing in a refugee, over.”

There was a long silence, then an unfamiliar female voice said “You're kidding, right? The same Trev who pretty much demanded we turn away refugees at the town meeting?”

Trev felt his face flushing. “She's about to collapse from exhaustion and deprivation. I thought we could at least give her a meal and a place to spend the night before sending her on her way.”

The reply came after another uncomfortably long silence. “Oh okay. That seems like the Christian thing to do.” He wondered if that was sarcastic. “By “we” I assume you mean “me and Lewis” can give her food and a place to stay, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Trev replied with a sigh. He'd intended to feed Mandy with his own food from the start, but whoever it was on the other end of the radio didn't have to make him sound like such a tool. Then again he
was
going directly against what he'd publicly said earlier. “Over and out.”