“To be honest I wonder if the townspeople have thought about it,” Trev answered bluntly.
Everyone gave him a surprised look. “In Aspen Hill?” April asked, frowning. “What’s there to think about? Everyone has a house.”
His friend shrugged. “They do, but most houses aren’t even all that well insulated these days. What makes them a shelter is the gas and electric heating. I think a lot of people who’ve always relied on that are going to be awfully surprised at how quickly their houses lose heat once it cools down, and how hard it is to heat up all that open uninsulated space to tolerable levels.”
Matt frowned, thinking of his conversation with Lewis weeks ago. “Your cousin mentioned something about that too. You really think houses will be that useless?”
“Oh they’ll still be better than tents, but if you’ve looked closely at any winter power outages that lasted more than a few days you’ll see a surprising amount of suffering among unprepared residents. Even deaths.”
“But Mom and Dad have a wood stove,” April cut in, looking worried.
Trev nodded. “Which might literally be a lifesaver. It might be smart to take a bit of time away from finding food to make sure you’ve got a decent woodpile, and that you use any spare blankets or carpets or packing foam or whatever to better insulate the room with the stove. You might all end up sleeping in there when winter really sets in, and spending your days there too.”
“Meanwhile you’ve got an underground shelter with your own stove and a nice big pile of firewood,” Matt pointed out. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was almost indirectly asking if his family might be able to move into the shelter if things got bad.
His friend got the hint. “That’s really something I don’t have much say in.”
“But you helped Lewis build the place,” Matt protested.
Trev shrugged. “Sure, I helped my cousin build the shelter with unpaid labor. But he owns the land and bought all the materials. I’m almost a guest myself. Besides, you know how he feels about keeping quiet about the place and avoiding notice.” He fell silent after that and Matt didn’t press the issue.
An hour after that they came in sight of Aspen Hill nestled between the hills to the southeast, and with a bit of cheering made their way down the hillside they were on, follow a winding road through dense thickets of scrub oak and other underbrush.
They were only a few miles out of town, excitedly talking about reunions with family there and finally having a warm bed to sleep in and a safe place to stay, when they rounded a bend to see five men on the road ahead.
Matt immediately slowed, wary. He assumed the group was a patrol from the town, since he couldn’t imagine who else it would be this close to Aspen Hill, but at the same time he didn’t recognize any of the men. They were all unshaven and wearing dirty clothes, as if they’d been out here a while, and all but one of the men were taller than him and much larger. Three were also carrying aluminum baseball bats, and from their expressions they weren’t interested in a pick-up game.
It was a bit of a relief to see that the single short, skinny man in the group, who was fairly nondescript with brown hair cut short and also the only one without tattoos on his arms, seemed to be the leader. He had both hands thrust deep into the front pockets of his baggy jeans, but he took one out to motion to the others. As they started forward he used that hand to wave cheerfully. “Hey guys!” he called.
Matt waved back cautiously. “Hey! You from Aspen Hill?”
All five men burst out laughing at that. “Seriously?” the leader asked. “Do we look fat, well equipped, and conceited?”
Alarmed, Matt started to reach for his bear spray, noting Trev doing the same next to him, but before either of them could get out their cans the nondescript short man whipped his other hand out of his pocket to point a small caliber pistol at Matt’s head. At his cue the other man not holding a baseball bat pulled out a larger handgun to point at Trev, while the rest raised their aluminum weapons threateningly.
“Ah ah,” the leader said, waggling a warning finger before tucking the hand not holding the gun back into its pocket. “Whatever you’re reaching for, take it out slowly and toss it over.” Matt complied, tossing the bear spray at the nondescript man’s feet. Once Trev’s can had also been tossed over the leader smiled. “Good. We don’t want to hurt you guys. You can keep going once you give us all your stuff. Consider it a tax for the privilege of entering the great town of Aspen Hill. That’s where you’re going, right?”
“Yeah,” Terry said cautiously. “Why?”
The men, who Matt guessed were refugees, chuckled. “Why not? Wonderful Aspen Hill! Where the men are men, the women are women, and everyone’s a heartless monster.” Even when he said that last bit he still acted cheerful.
“What do you mean we don’t want to hurt these guys, Razor?” one of the thugs with a bat growled. “I sure do.”
At that little Paul, clutched in April’s arms, began to cry. Either he sensed her fear or the man’s harsh tone frightened him. The refugee leader, Razor apparently, turned to glare at his lackey. “Cool it, man. But don’t worry, you still might get a chance if they don’t do exactly what I say.”
Trev started to move, and for a moment of pure panic Matt thought he was going to try something crazy again. But his friend was just raising his empty hands. “We won’t try anything. You can have all our stuff.”
“You’re right, I can.” Razor motioned with the gun and his three goons with bats rushed forward to strip off their backpacks and take the wagon, while he and his other armed friend kept Matt and Trev in their sights. “Even if you tried to stop us we’d take everything anyway, but this way you don’t get hurt. Especially the blond, there. She’d probably pimp out for a pretty good price back in camp even though nobody has anything.”
April gasped and shrank back, clutching Paul tight. “Leave my wife out of this,” Terry shouted, stepping in front of her.
Razor lost his amused expression in a flash, and just as quickly snapped his free hand back out of his pocket. In it he held a folding straight razor, the kind used for shaving, which he flicked open one-handed as he started for Matt’s brother-in-law. “You just had to open your mouth,” he snarled, running his thumb along the blade. It cut deep enough to make him bleed, and Matt wondered if this guy that had seemed like the calmest of the refugees was actually a psycho.
“They’ve got food, Razor!” the thug who’d taken the wagon suddenly yelled, straightening from rustling through the things stacked inside to hold up a can in triumph.
While Razor was momentarily distracted Trev slowly eased over to put himself between the nondescript man and Terry and April, making no threatening movements. “Yeah, we had food,” he said quietly. “Now you’ve got it and all our other stuff too. How about we just go, okay?”
For a moment Matt was sure his friend was about to get cut, but then Razor made his weapons disappear as quickly as he’d pulled them out, his hands once more shoved deep in the pockets of his baggy pants. “Thanks for your patronage, guys,” he said sarcastically. “Once you’re in town feel free to let your people know their borders are being watched, and they can expect much worse than what we gave you if they try to leave. Any of them that still have guns won’t for much longer, and even if that pencil neck Ferris sends his guys out after us we’ll just disappear for a while and come back later. So let Aspen Hill know they’re under siege and would’ve been attacked already if Ferris hadn’t shown up. I hope they’re ready to get a taste of what it’s like to be desperate and at the mercy of others, staring at a border they can’t cross.”