Trev shot his friend a glance, noting that Matt’s expression had grown even more grim at that news. “And what about south?”
The older man frowned. “Pardon?”
“You looked at a map? There’s nothing, nothing, then more nothing, all the way to Moab or along I-70 to Grand Junction. And as you go it’s going to get drier and drier. It’s not much better than the desert to the west.”
Hal obviously didn’t like hearing that. He scratched at his cheek, frowning. “Not sure what else to do. Stay here in Helper? There’s no food here. Or try our luck farther south in Carbon county?”
Trev shook his head. “Ever stop to consider it’s going to be as bad wherever you go? Most places will be about as hospitable as Helper.”
Janet fixed him with a belligerent stare. “Well they’d better find a way to help us, at least until FETF can step in. What would they do, send us on into the desert to starve? Not in Utah.”
Trev opened his mouth to argue the point, but before he could Matt shot him a warning look. “Well thanks for the information. I hope you guys find a solution.” He pulled Trev away as the couple got back to setting up their crude campsite.
“So what now?” Trev asked. “Head for this FETF camp?”
Matt shrugged. “Midvale’s still on the way to it so I guess we’ll try April’s house first, and keep looking over the refugees along the as we go for signs of them. Until then, though…” He abruptly cupped his hands around his mouth. “April! April Lynn! Terry Lynn! Are you here?”
Trev cringed, looking around as every eye turned their way. The last thing he wanted was to be the center of attention. But then again this was the quickest way to search the camp, even if it put them in more danger and might piss people off. He hated drawing notice but it was probably the right idea.
With a sigh he followed as his friend meandered through the camp, shouting the names of his sister and her husband. Before long they got to the other side, the only response to their calls refugees swearing at them and a few halfheartedly thrown rocks. Since they were already in the thick of things Trev didn’t bother suggesting they go around Helper and just followed his friend through the town, noting how the highway was cordoned off to keep the refugees from wandering into town and men with guns were out in force in case anyone passing through started any trouble.
Finally they got through Helper and entered Spring Canyon, and in spite of still being surrounded by refugees Trev breathed a sigh of relief. Although he still insisted they get off the road again.
Staying out of sight was a bit more difficult at that point. They crossed over to the other side of the canyon and followed the hills opposite the road, usually no more than a stone’s throw away, and did their best to keep behind cover. It slowed them down considerably, and a few times they were hailed by passing groups of refugees in spite of their best efforts to remain unseen, mostly to make sure they weren’t planning to cause trouble. In spite of all that they got through the canyon in a couple hours without any problems, and on the other side returned to their position within binocular sight of the road.
The going got harder and harder as Highway 6 meandered its way towards Spanish Fork Canyon, even though they still had a long ways to go to reach it. At some points they had no choice but to walk on the road itself in spite of their best efforts, but luckily there was plenty of room across the four lanes and the refugees they passed seemed perfectly happy moving over to the side of the highway as far from Trev and Matt as possible as they passed.
At one point they encountered a larger group of refugees that was mostly men, and Trev unconsciously checked his gun as he saw some of the looks being shot their way. But either the group wasn’t aggressive or the sight of Matt’s openly carried gun deterred them, and although they didn’t move over to the side like the smaller groups they caused no trouble. Still, Trev breathed a sigh of relief when they were well away from the group.
After about 12 hours of walking they reached the ghost town of Tucker near the eastern end of Spanish Fork Canyon, roughly half the distance between Aspen Hill and Spanish Fork. By then it was starting to get dark, and Trev also noticed Matt looked tired enough that he was stumbling a bit. They could still go a bit further that day, but since this was a fairly good location for a camp he insisted they stop for the night and led the way well off the road.
Matt was only too happy to follow, and eventually they found a good spot in a copse of bushes on the top of a low rise, where they’d be able to see anyone approaching but were blocked from the view of the tide of refugees still passing by on the highway down below. They both groaned in relief as they took off their packs, and when Trev started setting up his one-person tent his friend was quick to start on his own. After that they spent the rest of the twilight stretching their legs and getting a good drink and a more substantial meal.
“You know what I miss?” Matt asked as he crunched on a handful of peanuts. Trev made no response, waiting for him to continue. “Clean underwear.”
He glanced askance at his friend. “Missing that, are you?”
That earned him an annoyed look. “You know what I mean. Warm out of the dryer, fabric softener clean underwear.”
Trev chuckled. “You know, when I was loading my backpack on the trip down I had six clean pairs, fresh from the store and rolled up tiny and portable. I ended up leaving half behind. Funny how you can look back on your past self as a total idiot. Didn’t take up more than a couple square inches and weighed next to nothing.”
Matt laughed too. “Hindsight.” He took a swig of water and rotated his shoulders, groaning. “Man, you’ve done 2 patrols in one day? I thought the 8 hour shifts I did helping out were brutal enough.”
“We’ve made good time today,” Trev said. “Around 30 miles, I’d say. With any luck tomorrow we can start early and well rested and get in a full day, and that’s when we’ll really put some distance behind us.”
His friend nodded. “Another good 12 hours like this, even where Highway 6 gets difficult, and we’ll reach Spanish Fork and be at the start of the heavily populated areas. That’ll be sometime in the mid to late afternoon tomorrow.” His friend grinned at him. “I can’t believe we’re going to make it that far in less than two full days traveling. From your horror stories about the trip down I was expecting the going to be a lot slower.”
Trev grimaced. “Well my pack weighs half as much this time and I’m in probably the best shape of my life, so that helps. But just be ready to have to slow down when we reach Utah Valley.”
“Why? It’s level terrain and good roads the entire rest of the way.”
“Yeah, through dense population clusters.” Trev took a last bite of trail mix from his pack, then washed it down with a few good swallows of water. They’d have to find a place to refill their water bottles tomorrow if they wanted to keep up this pace. If worse came to worst they could always use his filter to draw from Utah Lake or one of the water sources flowing to it.
After that he was about ready to turn in, and Matt didn’t protest as he headed for his tent to inflate his sleeping pad. On his initial hike down to Aspen Hill he’d found himself grateful he’d purchased it, since it made the ground infinitely more comfortable, and curled up atop it in his sleeping bag he quickly fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Into the Fire
They woke up early the next morning and immediately packed up their camp and set out. The trip was uneventful as they followed Highway 6 northwest keeping to the hills wherever they could as the road began hugging more and more cliffs with nowhere to go but on the pavement itself. For most of that walk to Spanish Fork nothing exciting happened, just walking for hours on end along uphill and downhill terrain doing their best to give the refugees they passed a wide berth. Since they set out early they encountered refugees camped along the side of the road, although even at that hour many were on the move and some looked as if they’d already been walking for hours.