Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1) (30 page)

“It doesn't look like anyone else has figured it out, either,” Terry said, looking around the yard with a relieved smile on his face. “If you know what plants to eat we shouldn't go too hungry on our way south, dear.”

As Trev chewed on his first seed pod, which was surprisingly a lot like fruit, he felt a surge of relief. Although he'd kept it to himself he'd been really worried about trying to make the trip south to Aspen Hill with kids in tow and no food. It had seemed daunting to the point of impossibility. But if there was stuff they could eat planted right in people's yards, food homeowners had cultivated for ornamental purposes and left behind, then that would solve a lot of problems.

In fact, they'd be able to harvest enough rose hips from just the bushes in this yard to fill their packs and wagon. They might not even need to forage for anything else. This house's owners and their love of roses were a godsend.

After filling up on a bunch of the fruits they began plucking as many as they could and stuffing them into backpacks and atop the wagon. They picked through nearly half the rosebushes before they decided they had enough, and Trev was just suggesting that they continue on when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned to see a young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen and dressed in grimy clothes, creeping up on them with a revolver in his hand. He was only fifteen or so feet away, partially hidden by a rosebush.

When the kid realized that Trev had seen him he burst out of hiding. “Everybody hands in the air!” he shouted, waving the gun wildly so it pointed at all of them and none of them. “I'm going to take all your stuf-”

Trev dove to the side, yanking his bear spray out of his pocket.

The move caught everyone else by surprise, probably because none of them believed anyone could be that crazy. Trev could hardly believe he was doing it himself but he knew he had to act, mostly out of anger at himself for getting so distracted with food that he let his guard down and failed to protect the group.

The mugger gaped for almost a full second before yanking his gun around to focus on Trev as he fell. From the looks of it Matt had been frozen in surprise, but when he saw the threat to Trev he hastily pulled out his own can and aimed for the teenager's face.

Trev squeezed the trigger and the two streams of pepper spray flew at nearly the same time. Unfortunately he landed just as he shot and it threw his aim off to one side of the mugger's head. Luckily Matt's shot was better and he hit the kid on the chin, walking it up into his mouth, nose, and eyes.

Trev wasted no time scrambling back to his feet to close the distance to the mugger as the teenager screamed and staggered sideways, pistol falling to the ground as he lifted both hands to clutch at his face. He hadn't even got a shot off. Trev snatched up the gun and backed away with it at about the same time the mugger crumpled to the ground, making choking noises. He aimed the weapon at their attacker in spite of his incapacitated state.

For a moment the only noise was the punk hacking and coughing as everyone stared between him and Trev, and then Matt shoved his bear spray into his pocket and went over to grab his shoulder. “Are you insane? You could've gotten us all killed!”

Trev gave him a crooked smile, still buzzed from adrenaline and relief at the good outcome. “Just myself. Since I moved first he aimed at me, which meant even if he'd managed to shoot me you would've been able to get him before he hurt anyone else. I figured it was worth the risk. You'd be surprised how long it takes people to respond if you move without warning. There's a reason firearms instructors teach that anyone within 10 feet, sometimes as much as 25 feet, can potentially reach you before you can fire a shot.”

Matt shook his head, looking impressed. “It was stupid, but I've got to admit it was also pretty awesome.” He glanced down at the revolver Trev held. Trev thought it was .357 or .38 special, although he wasn't too familiar with revolver calibers. “Hey, at least now you've got a gun again.”

Trev reversed the pistol to hold the barrel and offered it to him. “You mean you do. You've got a family to protect and I've got my Mini-14 waiting at home. Besides, you're the one who tagged him.”

“Uh uh,” his friend said firmly. “I'm the idiot who lost you your 1911, and I know how much you loved that thing. This isn't the same but it's better than nothing. Besides, you're a better shot.”

Trev hesitated, then shrugged. “Kind of hard to say no.” He idly thumbed open the chamber, then snorted and upended it over his hand. Six spent shells spilled into his palm. “I guess it didn't matter what we did. He was out of bullets.” He flipped the chamber closed and tucked the empty revolver inside his backpack. The cops at the roadblock hadn't taken his underarm holster, also now in his pack, and he thought it would work for this gun too with a bit of adjustment.

“Well you can keep your eye out for some,” Matt said absently, glaring at the mugger. The kid was still lost in his own little world of extreme discomfort. “What do we do with this guy?”

“I say let him go,” April immediately said. “He's learned his lesson.”

Trev agreed. “He's going to have trouble functioning for a while after that, and he doesn't have a weapon anymore. Maybe the best justice is to leave him here surrounded by far more dangerous people and see if the golden rule teaches him any lessons.”

Matt suddenly started for the kid and lightly kicked his shoe. “Hey.”

“Sorry, man!” the mugger yelled, curling up into a fetal position and trying to squint at Matt through bloodshot eyes. “I'll leave you guys alone, I promise!”

“You'd better. That's not what I wanted to talk about.” Matt leaned down and pointed. “See those rosebushes in the yard? The rose hips, the seedpods, are edible. We're going to leave now so you can hang out here and have as many as you want.”

Straightening, his friend made his way back over to the group and led them away from the house and out of the neighborhood. Trev was quick to follow, eager to get some distance between them and the mugger even if he was out for the count.

Once they were well away from the expensive houses they continued south along the streets, and since they'd found food and didn't really need to stay in the city anymore Trev led the way west to the edge of the suburbs, where a road ran basically abandoned with only a few houses and some fenced in industrial lots and buildings dotted along it. Better yet, there was also a bit of cover in the way of bushes and trees.

“That was awfully kind of you, telling him about the rose hips,” April told her brother as they walked along.

Matt shrugged. “We're not going to be around so they'd just go to waste otherwise.”

His sister grinned impishly at him. “I noticed you didn't warn him about the white hairs, though.”

“Well he did try to rob us at gunpoint,” Matt answered, deadpan. “I suppose he'll figure it out eventually.” In spite of the tense situation Trev found himself grinning.

“The itchy bottom teaches best,” April said with a laugh, and at that little Aaron walking behind her laughed too, even though he probably didn't understand what was funny.

* * * * *

Although the trip south with the Lynns took much, much longer, just as Trev had predicted it would, it was surprisingly uneventful. They were finally traveling well away from other people like he'd wanted to do from the start, sticking to cover on the western outskirts of the populated areas. It was slower going with the wagon and having to take turns carrying the boys most of the time, since they were too tired to walk or simply refused to do so. But with careful rationing the rose hips they'd gathered lasted them, keeping them at the edge of hunger.

The only times they ventured in along the streets was to get water from the Jordan River, and there Trev and Matt went together in the evenings while the others set up camp, leaving a can of bear spray with them just in case. Trev was worried that after using the bear spray once there might not be much left in there, but talking it through with Matt they figured that each can had about 5 continuous seconds' worth, and if they'd both sprayed for about a second there was still quite a bit left. They decided from then on to be better about aiming and try to spray for around half a second at a time to stretch out what was left, since the pepper spray was their only means of defense aside from possibly trying to bluff attackers with an empty revolver.

During Trev and Matt's forays to get water their good fortune continued, and while they heard noises that suggested others might be around they never saw anyone. That wasn't enough to make Trev let down his guard, but he did start to entertain an idea. So during one such trip for water three days into their journey south, just when they were nearing Utah Lake and the point where they'd need to veer southeast to Spanish Fork, they passed a hardware store and Trev paused in a covered spot in sight of the front windows to stare inside. “I'd like to go in.”

“You're kidding, right?” Matt demanded, pausing in his sweep of the area to turn and look at him. “Stores are bad news, man, and that one's probably already been looted bare anyway.” He grimaced and shifted position slightly. “Besides, I doubt they stock toilet paper.”

That was an unpleasant reminder of Trev's own discomfort. They'd run out of TP yesterday, and with no other option had been forced to resort to using grass and leaves like he'd heard people talk about doing. It was the first time Trev had ever been reduced to such measures, and sparing the unpleasant details it didn't work nearly as well as advertised. He was actually considering taking a dip in the river no matter how cold it was, and for more reason than because he desperately needed a bath.

“I want to see if I can find shovels and can openers,” he answered. “And if we happen to find toilet paper too I doubt any of us would complain about it.”

His friend gave him a meaningful look. “Ooh. In that case yeah, let's take the risk.”

They quickly darted across the parking lot, eyes and ears peeled for any sign of unfriendly people lurking about. Trev didn't see anything, and judging by the sorry state of the inside of the store he wasn't surprised. Every section looked to have been stripped nearly bare, including the gardening and home improvement sections. While he headed down the aisles looking for what he needed Matt made a beeline for the restrooms at one end of the store, disappearing inside with his flashlight.

As Trev had feared all the full sized shovels had been taken, probably to be used as weapons. But in the camping section he found small folding shovels. They were poor quality and doing the job with them would be a huge pain, but he grabbed a few anyway. He also had his own shovel hidden with the other stuff he'd unloaded a mile down the road from the cache, and between them it would probably be enough. He also found a display of cheap can openers, the kind that never seemed to work properly, but with no other options he dumped all of them into his pack.

Having found what he'd came for he spent a little time browsing, hoping to find a knife to replace the one he'd lost at the roadblock even though he was sure they'd all been looted. As he was searching Matt emerged from the bathroom carrying one of those big rolls of brown paper towels from the hand-drying dispenser. “Score,” his friend said, grinning. “There were also a couple rolls of TP under the sink. I guess that wasn't a priority for looters, although I bet it'll become one as soon as they run out.”

Trev noticed that Matt's hands were glistening slightly with hand sanitizer. “Leave a present behind?”

“Yeah, best poop I've had in a week.” His friend didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed. “Sure there's no water and it didn't flush, but it beats squatting behind a bush.” he shrugged out of his pack to load it with the paper towels, which along with the toilet paper mostly filled it, and then together they continued on to the river to get water.

That evening they made their way back to I-15 to go the rest of the way south to Spanish Fork. Trev couldn't help but notice that the FETF and law enforcement presences were greatly reduced from when they'd been this way last, although one convoy did pass them headed south, and the flow of refugees was also about half what it had been. Were the cities finally emptying out? The refugees he did see looked even more hungry and desperate than before, and he and Matt kept the bear spray close and gave other groups a wide berth.

“I don't want to be a refugee,” April said quietly. “It's terrible, the suffering and hopelessness. Once we get to Aspen Hill let's stay there for good.”

Trev had to agree, although part of him wanted to point out that at the moment they pretty much
were
refugees. Sure they had a bit of food, and more waiting for them roughly two days away in his cache, but they were just as vulnerable as anyone else on the road.

Back on the highways, first I-15 and then Highway 6, their speed improved. Not just because it was a straight road to travel and they didn't need to spend quite as much time scouting for danger but because April's family was a bit more used to walking, even though hunger and fatigue were causing them to slow down. They still managed to make it the rest of the way to the cache by the end of the fifth day, going in two days nearly the same distance they had the previous three.

On the morning of the fifth day they finished off the last of the rose hips they'd gathered, along with a few other assorted weeds Matt and April had found along the way. Aside from a single scraggly raspberry bush with some overripe berries that was all they'd had since the FETF camp, and that day all anyone could talk about was the cache. In spite of their weariness they kept pushing forward, hoping to reach the cache before it got too dark to travel. Spurred on by that lure they consistently passed the other refugees following Highway 6, a comparatively smaller number than those on I-15 but still thousands of people.