Chauncey shook his head. “To make matters worse the convoys the Federal government was sending to the construction sites kept getting attacked by people desperate enough to go up against armed soldiers in military vehicles. Some convoys were delayed, some were hijacked altogether, but between the raids and the government running out of resources the project started to stall. I’m afraid the refineries are pretty much a failure at this point, but the death knell will come when Russia invades Canada.”
Sam stood stunned for several seconds. “Wait, Russia invading Canada? Since when? You can’t just throw something out there like that!”
The retired teacher shrugged. “Sorry, it’s easy to forget that what’s common knowledge on the radio may not have gotten out there. Word from our friends up north is that the Gold Bloc is seriously leaning on them to sell all their accumulated crude oil that they haven’t been able to do anything with since the Gulf refineries were destroyed. Word is that whatever elements of our Armed Forces that can be spared from other duties are up there trying to prevent the deal with subtle and not so subtle threats. But considering the situation our country’s in those threats are like waving a wet noodle.”
Lewis nodded. “Word is that the recalled military units from all over the world, the ones that made it home at least, are being diverted to Canada to “bolster their national defense”, which Canada isn’t too pleased with since they were on the verge of joining the Gold Bloc to help stabilize their economy. The US can’t afford to lose our major source of oil because that would pretty much spell the end of us, and Canada can’t really do anything about our soldiers “protecting” the oil because they don’t have the military might to kick us out. Things are shaping up into an invasion up there, and literally the only card the US still has left to play is our nuclear arsenal. Word is that with the first Russian to set foot on Canadian soil the nukes will fly.”
“That’s insane!” Turner muttered, shaking his head. “If we can’t even use that oil why are we risking even further trouble and guaranteeing no other country will want to help us just to keep it out of everyone else’s hands? It’s like losing a race and taking a dump in the victor’s trophy.”
Sam nodded vehemently, still numb from all this terrible news. Although she could’ve done without the analogy. “Besides, the oil’s not even ours!”
Chauncey shrugged again and waved vaguely at the sprawling refugee camp just visible down the street beyond the roadblock. “Look around, the world’s insane. Short term if we let Russia have that oil things might get better for us, assuming the Gold Bloc throws us a bone. Long term we’d be a crippled bird with a tiger crouched over us ready to pounce at our weakest moment, with no real way to claw our way back to any sort of strong position on the world stage. If Canada joins the Gold Bloc and stops sending us oil then Mexico and the Central and South American countries will quickly follow suit, leaving the US with no real choice but to cave to the Russians.” The older man gave her a stern look. “You want to live in a world controlled by the Gold Bloc?”
Sam wanted to point out that things hadn’t turned out so good with the US calling the shots on the world stage, but at the same time she didn’t want to see her country attacked. Didn’t want it bad enough that even starving and desperate for help she’d still want to see her fellow Americans pick up their guns and fight off the invading country rather than putting their necks under the boot.
“Do you think what remains of our government would actually launch the nukes?” she asked quietly.
“Why not?” Chauncey said with a weary sigh. “Our people are dying by the millions to the chaos alone, and we’ve just reached the point where people with no food after the Gulf refineries attack will be starving to death so the casualty numbers will soon skyrocket. Our government is in tatters and our hope of finding a way out of this mess is getting smaller and smaller. We’re already sinking, and in that position it’s a lot more tempting to throw a noose around your enemy’s neck and pull them in with you, so nuclear war will definitely be on the table. We’ve got nothing to lose and Russia knows it, which is the only thing that’s held them off until now. But if Canada invites them in and asks for their help booting out US soldiers sitting on their oil the Gold Bloc might just take that chance. If they do who knows what happens then?”
It was almost unbelievable. Here Sam and the community were fighting tooth and nail just to survive the upcoming winter, and somehow even in this situation the threat of war still loomed over them. Then again, when a country was at its weakest was just the time when its enemies were most likely to attack, so maybe it wasn’t so unbelievable.
Turner cursed. “Well all this is plenty grim, but we should be worrying more about what’s closer to home.” Oddly when he said that he didn’t turn to look north at the refugee camp, but south.
Sam’s frown deepened. “What do you mean? More news?”
Lewis nodded. “You could say that. FETF sent a major supply convoy to Price to aid with their growing refugee camp. Word is the refugees there number in the tens of thousands now, with more arriving every day.”
“More importantly,” Chauncey cut in irritably, “they’re very aware of Aspen Hill. A FETF administrator was on the radio talking to me this morning. Chewed me up and spit me out every way you can imagine, grilling me for information on the town and our own refugee camp and demanding answers I couldn’t give. I was tempted to just sign off but I was afraid if I did I’d end up on some Federal naughty list and wind up paying for it the moment they get here.”
Sam started in surprise. “You think they’re going to come here?”
“We’re not standing around at this roadblock for the pleasant conversation,” Turner growled. “From their questioning Chauncey seems to think they’ll be sending someone our way, probably soon. We’re here in case that “soon” is now.”
“But wouldn’t they come to Roadblock 3 to the south?” she asked.
“Maybe. But they know the refugee camp is outside this roadblock and that seems to be what they’re interested in.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Lewis said with a shake of his head. “They’ll stick their noses in Aspen Hill’s business. It’s what they do best.”
The conversation turned to other things as they waited. Sam soon cemented an impression of Lewis as polite and knowledgeable, but also reserved and even a bit on the doom and gloom side. It was obvious he expected the worst from the FETF visit and was sticking around to see just how bad it was going to be. That made Sam nervous, although she didn’t necessarily agree herself.
After all, it was the Task Force’s job to send aid and that’s what they were doing. What trouble could come from that? If anything they’d make things much better for the refugee camp outside of town, which would in turn make things better for Aspen Hill. They might even have aid for those in town who didn’t have enough and were forced to draw from the town storehouse.
About a half hour later Chauncey’s prediction came true, as a whistle from the man standing atop one of the cars keeping watch with binoculars drew their attention. Sam followed the others as they climbed up onto the vehicles or dressers that made up the roadblock, and even without binoculars she could see the two vehicles bearing FETF markings parked in the refugee camp. One looked like a troop transport, bristling with soldiers looking warily out at the refugees, while the other was obviously a supply truck.