Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4) (3 page)

At best the people he'd been able to contact knew the broad strokes of the situation, and more specifically what had happened closer to home that they could see with their own eyes or report through a trusted source.

One piece of solid information from numerous sources, though, was of a confirmed nuclear strike on the Gold Bloc military camp south of Sault Ste. Marie. That was hundreds of miles away from Greenbush and where Lewis expected Trev and his family to be, but even so it was far too close for comfort. With worry for his loved ones filling his thoughts it was hard to focus on the rest of the report after that.

Lewis had never really stopped to consider how terrifying nukes were. Sure, intellectually he knew the devastation they could cause, and he'd seen the videos of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in his high school history class. He'd watched the horror of the Middle East Crisis unfold in every detail and grieved along with the rest of the world.

But the terror of it was new, fanned to life with the realization that there were, in fact, situations in which humanity was insane enough to unleash that kind of devastation on a global scale. He could no longer sleep easy in the knowledge that the people with their finger on the button would go to any lengths, seek any compromise, to avoid that fate.

Because they hadn't.

And what did that mean? An explosive big enough to destroy an entire city, which could kill him before he even realized it had gone off. And in a horrific way that wasn't even the most frightening aspect of the nuclear blast, because the explosion would spray radiation into the surrounding area for miles.

Sometimes that fallout could be seen, but the smaller particles were often hard to detect with the naked eye, bringing lingering sickness that could lead to a slow agonizing death or an even more agonizing recovery that could take years, if it ever fully happened at all.

The broadcaster on the radio returned to the more local aftermath of the Retaliation after a while, specifically how the Gold Bloc invading forces had responded to it all. Whatever Lewis might think of the name, here at least it was fitting, and that was in the response it had provoked. In the last day the surviving blockheads who'd escaped the targeted strikes on their camps had regrouped, and in many cases began pursuing retribution on the prisoners they'd captured.

In the chaos many of the prison camps had erupted into mass riots and a large number of people had escaped. Those prisoners who hadn't managed to get free had either been left behind to succumb to the fallout, gunned down if they tried to flee to safer territory still in Gold Bloc hands, or simply killed outright in mass executions.

Not satisfied with that horrific bloodshed, the Gold Bloc soldiers had begun chasing down the fleeing prisoners and shooting them on sight. They'd also stopped their efforts of searching for any US citizens still remaining in the areas they moved into, to capture and take to the internment camps, and begun murdering them in cold blood instead. The death toll from these atrocities was already estimated in the hundreds of thousands.

As the horrific details kept coming Lewis looked away, sickened. A lot of those prisoners were people captured in Michigan, and Trev and his family could've gotten caught up in that. The thought was almost too horrible to contemplate, but at the same time he firmly told himself he had to be prepared for the possibility he might never see his cousins or aunt and uncle again.

He wasn't sure how long the broadcast lasted, but at some point he realized with a start that he was hearing things he'd already heard before. His suspicions were confirmed as the crowd around him, which had been still and silent as they listened to the news, began to shift around and murmur to each other, verifying that the message had looped.

Matt turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in question, and Lewis shrugged and nodded. He'd come late to this, but he was pretty sure he'd heard all this before. Before too long just about everyone agreed they'd heard everything they were going to.

Chauncey leaned forward and turned off the radio, hand shaking slightly. Even that effort seemed to tire him, and he seemed relieved to sink back into his chair, scratching at the bandage around the stump of his leg.

“It's awful, but I'm glad that at least we're far away from all of that,” Matt said after a short silence.

Lewis shook his head. In some ways they were far away, but in others they were pretty close to smack dab in the middle. And with Gold Bloc forces to the east and west of them the trouble would probably be heading their way before too long, until they really
were
smack dab in the middle.

The mood was already bleak enough, and most of the people here had likely already come to the same realization, so he kept his pessimistic thoughts to himself.

Unfortunately Chauncey decided to speak up in his place. “Not so far,” he muttered, gritting his teeth as his scratching fingers moved onto the stump itself. “Closer than any of us would like, and headed our way.”

The room sank into an even grimmer silence, and Matt sighed. “I'd sort of hoped the Retaliation would stop their invasion.”

Chauncey shook his head. “If anything it forced them into a position where they have no choice but to keep going.” He abruptly yanked his hand away from his leg, clenching it into a fist on the armrest of his chair. “Which means at some point we might have to deal with them right here. They're far away at the moment, but that could change fast with the vehicles they have.”

Lewis nodded, although he was too lost in thought to speak up. After a short silence Matt turned and stared out the window, as if imagining a convoy of enemy troops driving right down Main Street. “So what do we do about it?”

“Keep our ear to the ground, I suppose,” the retired teacher answered. “Be alert for trouble heading our way, and when it comes have the best plans we can think of for how to deal with it.”

“Right,” Lewis agreed, straightening. “And one of those plans should be for evacuating everyone up Aspen Hill Canyon if need be. We should get everyone together and talk it through.”

Matt turned to him. “You mean a town meeting?”

“Eventually. Although first things first we should talk it through with the Mayor and the other town leaders.” Lewis glanced at Chauncey. “Should we gather them all up here?”

Their friend grimaced and glanced down at the stump of his leg. “Sure, I'll be around.” He tried to make the words humorous, but more than a little bitterness crept in.

Chauncey had made it clear on previous visits that his bitterness was for his situation, not Lewis for suggesting they hit the raider camps or Matt for leading the disastrous attack. Lewis didn't know about his friend, but that didn't help much with the guilt. He knew rationally that the retired teacher had made his own decision and was facing the consequences of it as well as he could, but still . . .

It
had
been Lewis's idea. He would always shoulder a bit of the burden for what had happened because of it.

In the face of Chauncey's bad mood the crowd sort of naturally broke up after that. Lewis said his goodbyes along with Matt, then followed his friend out the door in the direction of town hall. About halfway there Matt abruptly straightened, a grin breaking out across his weary features, and bolted up the street to where Sam had just come outside through the auditorium door, leaving the combined clinic and storeroom that had taken over the large space.

Matt filled his wife in on what they'd heard over the radio, at least until Sam begged him to stop, clearly distressed by the grim news. So as they sought out the Mayor they talked about the work they'd done that morning instead, filling the conversation with more pleasant, hopeful things.

At least until they had to broach Lewis's idea to prepare the town for evacuation in case it was ever necessary. Catherine had been listening to the news on her own radio, since Chauncey had retransmitted it on the town frequency. She clearly wasn't pleased by the idea of another evacuation, remembering the chaos of the one they'd carried out when the raiders first showed up, but she reluctantly agreed that planning the next one in advance would make it go much smoother.

So they began preparing a checklist of things the townspeople would want to do to get ready, as well as dates and times for a few drills so everyone could practice. It was a shame to have to take people from their other necessary tasks for this, and Lewis expected some grumbling. But if a Gold Bloc push into the area was a “when” rather than an “if” the time wouldn't be wasted, and could save lives and leave everyone in a much better position if they did have to abandon their homes and flee up Aspen Hill Canyon into the mountains.

During the planning Jane arrived, finished with her shift at the gardens. She'd spent part of the time caring for their remaining crops as best she could, and part of it on sentry duty in case of thieves or vandals or, more likely since the raiders were defeated, four-legged varmints that were too big for the traps or managed to avoid them.

She came over to stand beside him, content to listen in on the discussion. Although she did have a few tips to give about how to pack and what to bring from her days as a refugee, although she hated being called that and instead described it as “Before my group found a home here.”

After the meeting Matt and Sam made their way over to the clinic to visit Terry and April, while Lewis and Jane headed back to the shelter to sleep. They may have gone to bed early yesterday by some standards, but with their schedule of sleeping during the day to patrol at night the rest hadn't been great, even if they'd skipped their patrol to get it. Still, they agreed they should try to sleep now so this night's patrol wouldn't be quite as painful.

Now that they were by themselves Jane felt more comfortable showing signs of affection. She took his hand, and as they walked occasionally leaned her shoulder against his. Lewis enjoyed the opportunity to be close to his wife, filled with equal parts gratitude and disbelief that things had turned out the way they had with her.

Matt and Sam caught up to them halfway home, for some reason hurrying to do so. “Hey,” Sam called as the two came in shouting distance.

Jane casually slipped her hand out of his, and together they slowed down to meet their friends. “Hey,” Lewis said back. Then he caught their expressions. “What's up?”

“You promised us dinner and a movie, remember?” Matt asked, smiling. Sam nodded emphatically. “How about this evening?”

Lewis bit back a groan. It wasn't that he was too exhausted for the activity, and it did sound nice, but hearing the suggestion while thinking of their impending nightly shift made him feel tired. He was about to answer that, but before he could Jane cut in. “We're going to catch some sleep before our shift starts.”

Matt didn't lose his smile. “Yeah, about that. Asking you to do a full shift every night when there are plenty of people who could do it doesn't seem very fair. I know you guys volunteered for it, but I'm officially unvolunteering you. From now on you'll take a shift at most once every three nights. After all, you've got your own stuff to do.”

“Like dinner and a movie,” Sam said, grinning.

Jane glanced at him, seeming okay with the idea, so Lewis nodded. Patrolling every night
was
a bit much, especially after sleepless days like the last few. “Dinner and a movie sounds nice,” he said. “As long as you don't mind us falling asleep halfway through.”

Matt laughed. “Are you kidding? If it means you'll finally be able to get some decent rest I'll be happy to tuck you in myself.”

The distance from Newtown to Michigan that had taken Trev a bit over 8 days to travel took just a bit under 27 hours driving almost nonstop. That included brief restroom breaks and slowing down cautiously at hills and bends in the road, or any other obstacle that obstructed their sight and could provide an ambush spot.

There was also a heated debate between the driver and the passengers in the cab at every city, and even the smaller towns, about whether to circle around them on side roads or blast through at high speeds in the center of the road and hope for the best. Since they were following Lewis's route for the last half of the trip, which Trev had already traveled once, he was able to say with some confidence which areas they should avoid and which had been abandoned when he came through and were probably still safe.

On the longer stretches they were able to make up time, going the heavy truck's top speed of just over 50 miles an hour some of the way, and averaged maybe 35 or 40mph over the entire trip. Trev spent most of that time in the cab, even when he was too exhausted to stay awake and ended up sleeping, since he knew the route and aside from Lucas was the only one who really knew how to shoot a rifle. There was a bit of grumbling about him commandeering one of the most comfortable seats the entire trip, but everyone agreed he should be up there in case they ran into trouble.

When he wasn't sleeping or driving he spent the time watching the terrain zip by outside. Maybe it was lingering exhaustion, but a sight that should've been familiar somehow felt unreal; after all, he'd spent his entire life driving at these high speeds along highways. And yet in less than a year, much of it spent traveling by foot, this sort of mobility had become unfamiliar and almost miraculous.

He'd taken cars for granted for a long time, even when he'd finally got one himself and could enjoy the freedom it offered. But now, riding in this truck that was carrying his family safely home, he didn't think he'd ever take driving for granted again. Even if things got back to normal, and gas became as cheap as it had been when his parents fondly reminisced of the days of filling up their tank for less than a dollar a gallon.

Trev supposed the old adage was true, that you couldn't truly appreciate something until you'd lost it.

About ten miles south of Newtown they pulled the truck off Highway 83 to have their final debate about whether or not to stop at the town, and if so how they'd go about doing it. It was late afternoon by that point, and the exhausted and deprived group was a lot more amenable to the idea than they had been that morning. Even Mary, who usually just listened and hummed through these sorts of family shouting matches, took a break from some song about taking the plunge to toss in her support of the idea.