Matt balked. “Oh, now you want to go talk to the men with guns?”
“Actually yes, I do. If we talk to these FETF coordinators and let them know who we are and what we want, after we enter the camp there’s a better chance they’ll let us leave again. Also we can ask them where to find your sister’s family.”
Matt gave the massive sprawling encampment a doubtful look. “What, you think the guards at the gate are going to know about a family of four out of the thousands and thousands of people in there?”
Trev smiled. “Say what you will about FETF, they’re bureaucrats at heart. Look at those pavilions, at what you have to go through to get into camp. They’ll have a list of names of everyone in there, I guarantee it.” He shifted impatiently. “Which is another reason we have to go in through the front gate. If we try sneak in we won’t be on the list and we might not be able to just walk out. They might even detain us.”
“Your paranoia is getting a bit old,” his friend complained. “This isn’t a prison camp, it’s a disaster relief camp.”
“It’s a refugee camp created because these people were caught up in massive riots in the cities they lived in,” Trev answered sharply. “Even if those cops down in Spanish Fork were right about the rioters being sent to Point of the Mountain and these being innocent refugees looking for help that doesn’t change much. The people who run the camp aren’t going to want these people leaving and wandering around endangering themselves or causing more trouble. Even if we do come in the proper way they may try to detain us within the nice little barbed wire fence here “for our own good.”
“For the love of all that’s good and holy!” Matt snapped, losing his temper. “This isn’t Nazi Germany, Trev. This isn’t Communist China. This is America, and in America citizens aren’t unlawfully detained by an oppressive government!”
Trev lost his temper as well. It had been a long few days, full of frustrating and terrifying events, and he was tired and hungry. “Tell that to the policemen three days ago who threatened to haul us to Point of the Mountain just because we protested having our property stolen at gunpoint.”
As the tension between them grew Trev suddenly became aware that the people surrounding them were gawking, with a mixture of amusement, confusion, and fear. Matt noticed it as well because he suddenly threw up his hands. “Enough! Just enough, okay? We’ve almost found April, we’re almost to where we can go home. It’s almost over. Just, just shut up and let’s get on with it, all right?”
Trev took a breath and glanced back at the FETF workers at the camp’s entrance. “You do the talking, all right?”
“Yes, that’d be great. I’d love it if you’d just keep your mouth shut.” Matt shoved past him, and after a moment trying to calm himself Trev caught up and walked at his side.
In spite of the large numbers of people entering the camp Trev couldn’t help but notice that nobody was leaving. That didn’t make him feel any better, but he tried to convince himself that it was just because the refugees had nowhere to go and not because they couldn’t leave. That tide of humanity was being fairly competently managed by the FETF coordinators, who were able to process people without too much of a bottleneck. It took less than an hour for Matt and Trev to work their way through the line to one of the pavilions, meaning with any luck they’d have all evening to start their search.
There a pair of soldiers frisked them and searched their backpacks. There was a bit of trouble about the cans of bear spray, at least until Matt insisted they were for self defense only. Trev half expected the men to confiscate them anyway, but to his surprise they were given back.
An even more pleasant surprise came when they registered with a FETF coordinator and Matt mentioned he was searching for his family as he handed over their driver’s licenses. The woman actually took out a laptop, which must’ve been wirelessly connected to some FETF server, and quickly did a search.
“Terry and April Lynn,” she repeated, having Matt confirm the spelling as she typed in the names. Her expression cleared. “Okay yeah. They came in four days ago with the third group from Midvale. They’re in Section F, fifth tent on the right.”
Matt gave Trev a jubilant look, and Trev threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders in celebration as Matt turned back to the woman. “That’s amazing! Thank you so much!”
The coordinator quickly gave them directions to his family’s tent near the northeastern section of the fence and explained how the camp had been split into sections. Once that was done she gave them back their licenses, along with stamped IDs to wear around their necks, and assigned them to bunks in Section AE near the back of the camp while explaining how to get there.
Finished with jumping through bureaucratic hoops, they joined the stream of people heading into the camp. Most of the refugees made their way along the wide lane going back to their assigned bunks, but Matt immediately turned right to follow the lane a stone’s throw from the fence towards Section F. The lane ran by tents to the left and a large clear area cordoned off with tape to the right near the fence itself, with frequent signs warning that anyone who neared the fence would be subject to crowd control measures.
Those signs and the view of the soldiers on the other side of the fence giving them suspicious glares made Trev feel uncomfortable, so in spite of Matt’s protests he made his way one lane over to walk among the tents.
It turned out that might not’ve been the best decision, since they hadn’t gone far before nearing a trio of men sitting on camping chairs beside one of the tents, their feet stretched out into the lane. The first word that popped into Trev’s head when he looked at them was “punks”. They were dressed in cutoff denim vests over black t-shirts and wore black jeans, complete with enough dangling chains and piercings to almost be cliché, and one sported borderline obscene tattoos on his arms and across his throat and part of his lower jaw. It wasn’t just what they were wearing, either: everything about their expressions and the way they slouched in their seats looked like trouble.
Any illusion that they weren’t there to block the path was immediately shattered when the tattooed guy stood. “Hey newcomers,” he said, crossing his arms as he moved in front of them. The two punks he’d been sitting with smirked. “Those are some nice backpacks. Look like they might be full of useful stuff. Which is lucky for you since this is a toll road, and the only way past is giving me something worth my time.”
Wow, the camp’s seedy element was pulling a stunt like this just a few hundred feet from the soldiers at the entrance? Trev glanced at his friend and, doing his best to keep his expression calm and his hand from shaking, took out his bear spray and pointed it at the would-be tollman’s face. “Get lost.”
Their assailant’s two friends started to stand, pulling knives, but froze when Matt pointed his own bear spray at them. As for the thug in their path, his tattooed throat bulged slightly as he swallowed, expression uneasy. “Looks like you guys get a pass,” he said, sidling over to join his friends. “I wouldn’t turn your back on us as you walk away though.”
The threat was probably serious, but there was no reason not to let the punk save face a little now that the danger was past. Trev nodded at Matt and together they stepped over to the other side of the lane and edged past, staying wary and walking almost sideways for almost a hundred feet before they turned and hurried on.
“Well I’ve got to say it, man, you’ve got guts,” Matt said, tucking his can back into his pocket.