Before he could get started he spied an elderly but spry gentleman entering the Larson family’s crudely staked out yard, and he switched directions to go greet the man. “Jack! What brings you around to this part of town?” he asked, offering his hand.
Jack Dawson returned his handshake with a grin. “Oh, just stopping by to see if the girls are still being productive.”
By “the girls” the old man meant the laying hens he’d sold to the shelter group, before the blockheads arrived to besiege the military and the civilians in the Utah Rockies. Jack had offered a generous price for the layers, but that wasn’t the beginning of his generosity.
Before the Gulf burned Jack had owned a sizable chunk of land southwest of Aspen Hill. A longtime widower in his 70s, he’d lived alone on his property watching after it, largely sustained by the flock of chickens and other fowl he kept. From what Matt could tell, the nation running out of fuel hadn’t changed much about the old man’s situation, aside from depriving him of electricity, internet, and television.
During Ferris and his FETF soldiers’ occupation of the town last fall, Matt had been foraging near Jack’s property when the old man confronted him as a potential trespasser. But once Jack recognized Matt he warmed up considerably, since Matt’s mom had been regularly bringing him meals for years. Partly in gratitude for that, and partly out of sympathy for the Larson family’s plight, Jack had given Matt one of his layers, which Sam had affectionately named Henrietta.
A single egg a day among eight people didn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but over the winter it had added up to a lot of needed protein, and had likely literally been a lifesaver. Which was why once the family had started to do well, with the aid of the Smiths, Halssons, and the rest of the shelter group, one of the first things they’d decided to do was buy more layers from Jack, who was only too happy to sell.
In a suffering town there’d been a few families that had managed to squeak through without too much suffering. Jack was probably the most prosperous of those, with spare food in the form of eggs and poultry to trade for any necessities he didn’t have. When the town founded new Aspen Hill in the valley his cabin had been one of the first built, men eagerly lining up for the opportunity to work for food. Matt knew the man had also made some solid purchases from Ned when the trader came around.
“Very productive,” Matt said. “Mrs. Halsson used some of the eggs to bake a cake yesterday.” He felt a sudden surge of guilt. “We should’ve invited you.”
Jack waved that off. “Bah, never was much for parties.” He was momentarily interrupted by a particularly harsh blast of wind, and shivered slightly as he glanced up at the sky. “I’ve been in this area a long time,” he said grimly. “I’ll admit, I’m not as familiar with things up here in the mountains, but even so this weather feels off. I’m afraid the storm that’s blowing in is going to be a bad one.”
“I think you’re probably right,” Matt agreed. “Speaking of which, I should probably get my chores done. Why don’t you head inside and warm up a bit? Mom usually makes a pot of herb tea or hot chocolate these mornings.”
“I might just do that.” Jack shook his hand again, then headed towards the distinctively shaped Larson cabin. Matt hurried on to the town barn to deal with his livestock and check on things.
By the time he came out snow had started falling.
It was already a thick flurry, and getting thicker by the second. For a moment Matt stood staring up at the mountains to the west, which were mostly obscured by the storm that had finally arrived. Cold wisps lightly touched his face as the flakes swirled around him, soon becoming trails of chilly water trickling down his cheeks.
He wasn’t the only one out in the storm. In spite of the howling wind and swirling flakes falling thicker by the second, the streets of the town were soon flooded as the people of new Aspen Hill emerged to watch the first snow of the year. In the middle of October.
Among the crowd Matt was surprised to see Sam trudging his way against the wind, already building up quite a layer of snow on her clothes. As close to childbirth as she was, combined with her petite height and the coat, hat, and scarves she’d bundled up in, she was so round that with every step she looked like she’d fall over from sheer awkwardness. But beneath all the layers wrapped around her mouth and nose, he could see her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled.
It constantly amazed him how cute she was. He just wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. So he did, reaching her with long strides to hug that bundle of warm clothing and very pregnant wife.
“Should you be out in this?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she admitted cheerfully. “But it’s crowded in the cabin and it stinks. Besides, Dr. Maggy wanted me to get fresh air.”
“Maybe not when it’s below freezing in the middle of a snowstorm.” He kissed the scarf about where her mouth should be. “Where were you headed? I’ll walk with you.”
She shrugged. “Just wanted to be here with you to see this.” She fumbled at her waist and produced a canteen. “Also I figured I’d make sure you were getting enough water.” To suit her words she popped the top and tugged her scarf down to take several gulps, then offered it to him.
Matt waved it away. “Thanks, I’m good.”
“You sure?” she asked. “I’ve heard in the cold you don’t always know you’re thirsty, so it’s important to drink even when you don’t think you need to.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said wryly. But he accepted the canteen and took a few gulps himself. His throat had been a bit dry.
Together they ambled back towards their house, the ground already sporting a thin layer of white underfoot. With so many people out in force he almost would’ve thought it was a celebration, but the mood was anything but celebratory. Even the young children, who normally would’ve been happily waiting for the snow to get deep enough to play in, sensed the mood of their parents and huddled close to them in wide-eyed silence. The adults were equally quiet, the only sound the howling wind carrying the beginning of nuclear winter to their town.
Matt shivered, and from more than just the cold.
Sam, huddled against his side, felt it and shivered as well, burying her face in his chest against the bitter wind. “Is it too late to go south?” she asked in a small voice, trying to sound flippant and failing.
Before he could answer a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. He turned to see his dad beckoning. “Come on,” he said gravely. “There’s a few last things we should do to prepare to ride out this storm before it gets too bad.”
Matt nodded. “Give me a second to swing by town hall. There’s probably things I’ll need to do to help prepare the town for this as well.”
His dad nodded. “We’ll manage.” He offered his arm to Sam, who stood on tiptoes to give Matt a quick kiss through her scarf before taking it.
Matt watched the two trudge away for a few moments before hurrying to town hall. Chauncey was already there handling a dozen or so townspeople, who were all clamoring about help they desperately needed to survive the storm if it lasted for days.
With a sigh Matt stepped in to help organize the chaos, offering help where people needed it and being firm with those he was pretty sure didn’t.
Meanwhile the tent, even made of thick canvas as it was, just wasn’t up to keeping out the chill. They’d been in the process of building a more permanent town hall to house the radio equipment and provide a headquarters that would keep out the cold, but unfortunately it was only half finished and the snows had already arrived. They’d probably have to move all this into the clinic for now and be resigned to having that serve as town hall for the winter.