“Yeah, we’ve been having trouble with them since even before Ferris showed up,” Lewis said grimly. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on the horizon, but although I’ve seen them a few times they haven’t come close enough to worry about. That might change now that FETF is disarming the town. You’re carrying your 1911, right?”
Trev shook his head. “Taken at a police roadblock.” His cousin gave him an incredulous look and he felt a surge of embarrassment. “I’ll tell you about my trip when we’ve got the time. For the moment, though, I have this.” He pulled out the revolver they’d taken from the would-be mugger.
Lewis took it and looked it over. “Model 65. Pretty nice. Needs cleaning, though.”
“You have any .357 rounds on you?” Trev asked hopefully.
His cousin shook his head. “Sorry, just .308, .45, 12 gauge, and .22. I only tried to stock up on ammo for the guns I own.” He handed it back. “We’ll have to see if we can find you some before FETF makes anything gun related disappear.”
Trev put the useless gun back in his underarm holster. “I guess I’ll carry my Mini-14 for now. Hopefully it won’t be too much of a pain while moving stuff. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down around Razor again.”
Once back in the shelter Trev retrieved his rifle and slung it securely on his back so it wouldn’t jostle or get bumped while moving buckets. Then he and his cousin got down to serious work emptying their food storage into the cache.
A couple hours later they finished filling the hole, not just with buckets but with all their ammunition and Lewis’s G3, pump action shotgun, and .22 rifle, all in waterproof containers. With his cousin wearing his 1911 that was all their firearms accounted for.
True to Lewis’s predictions the cache fit barely a third of their supplies, and his cousin looked unsatisfied as they made some final adjustments so the buckets protected the more delicate stuff in a hollow, then covered everything with a sheet of plywood that could hopefully hold the weight of all the dirt and the woodpile itself. Once Lewis was satisfied with the job they covered everything up with more tarps and arranged them so any water would be redirected around the cache. Then they filled up the hole, using proper shovels much to Trev’s relief, and got to work stacking the wood back into a pile over the disturbed earth.
They finished the job in the early afternoon and took a break sitting on the hilltop eating cold chili from cans. Lewis brought up getting started on another cache once the meal was done and they began discussing possible locations that were near enough to carry the supplies by hand or in their wagons, could be easily concealed once the cache was complete, and wouldn’t put them under the guns of Razor’s roaming thugs.
It turned out to be a moot point, because just as they were cleaning up after their meal and getting ready to get started again Trev caught sight of a distant group of people approaching from the direction of Aspen Hill.
He jostled Lewis’s shoulder, pointing, and his cousin quickly took out his binoculars to check. After a long, tense silence he saw Lewis’s shoulders visibly sag. “Looks like the FETF is sending an official party. Ferris, Turner, and half a dozen soldiers.” He suddenly stiffened. “And there’s Mandy! Guess you were right about her ratting us out.” His knuckles whitened around the small binoculars. “Unbelievable… she’s the one person who never should’ve known about this place. It’s hard to be mad at the Larsons but seriously, what were they thinking?”
Trev squinted at the distant group, catching sight of a hint of green at the back of the group. Mandy had been wearing a green shirt. “Don’t blame them, she’s my fault. I should never have let her into town.”
“Hindsight.” In spite of his cousin’s even tone he looked pissed as he put away his binoculars.
Trev supposed it didn’t matter now. “So what do we do? Fight?”
“Against half a dozen soldiers in body armor?” Lewis asked incredulously. “Besides, we don’t want to get on the wrong side of government agents no matter how questionable their actions.” His cousin abruptly pulled them both back behind the cover of the hill and removed his underarm holster with its 1911 to hand over to Trev. “I’m glad we got the ammo and my other guns out to the new cache already,” he said, tone urgent. “Listen, take these and hide them there too, then hurry back. I’m going to go lock up the shelter.”
Trev accepted the weapon, glad he was carrying his own revolver in its underarm holster as well as his Mini-14. “You want to meet them unarmed?”
“The outcome’s the same either way, and anyway meeting them unarmed looks less aggressive. Also if they’re in the mood to confiscate weapons rather than push their stupid food for firearms program I don’t want ours anywhere to be found.”
That made sense. Trev nodded and trotted down the hill to the woodpile, doing his best not to jostle the guns he held. Once he got behind the cache he hurriedly pulled wood off the pile in the spot they’d planned for easy access, scraped away just a few inches of dirt, and lifted the corner of the tarp to tuck the guns underneath, including taking off his underarm holster to store the revolver as well.
Once he’d covered the cache again he decided to circle far north to return to the shelter from a different direction so he wouldn’t give anything away if he was spotted. It meant going all the way around the shelter to get to the south facing door, but to his relief by the time he climbed up to stand next to Lewis, in the concealed sentry post atop the shorter hill the underground structure had been built against, Ferris and the others still hadn’t arrived.
As they waited he got a chance to get his first look at Ferris, a small weasel of a man whose stick-up-the-butt posture and absurdly out of place suit screamed petty bureaucrat. He also got a good look at Mandy, who was doing her best to hide behind the six soldiers in full riot gear, including bulletproof shields and helmets. Looking at them Trev was glad they’d hid their guns.
When the group arrived Lewis led the way down to where the road passed the bottom of the hill to meet them. His greeting was directed at Turner, not Ferris. “What’s this about, Officer?”
Turner had the grace to look shamefaced. “I’ve been made the Aspen Hill FETF liaison. Hoarding food in excess of two weeks’ supply is illegal according to Federal law.”
“Since when?” Lewis asked evenly.
Before the policeman could answer Ferris spoke up. “Actually, hoarding has been illegal for years now. The law just hasn’t been enforced because it’s a minor issue at any time except during a disaster. Like now.”
Lewis seemed ignore the interruption, still looking at Turner. “Are you going to help these soldiers rob the people you swore to protect and serve?”
Turner’s guilt vanished into irritation. “Come off it, Halsson. You’re sitting on enough food to feed half the town while people are starving. This is better for everyone.”
“Everyone but the people you’re robbing,” Lewis said, voice still calm. Trev had to admire his cousin’s cool head: he knew from personal experience that if he was the one talking he’d be shaking from nerves by now, like he had at the roadblock up in Spanish Fork. In fact even though he wasn’t saying a word he still had to fight to keep motionless and stay calm.
Ferris gave a fake yawn. “Sorry if I have no sympathy for selfish lawbreaking hoarders.” He abruptly turned to stare contemptuously at Trev, who gave a start of surprise at the sudden attention. “Not to mention scum who solicit sex from starving, desperate women.”
Trev opened his mouth to protest but Lewis put a quieting hand on his shoulder, still speaking to Turner. “Is he being charged with anything?”