He didn’t have nearly the store of useful supplies his cousin had, but he gathered up everything he thought his wagon could hold and began moving the stuff out to the wagons by the shed as Lewis followed suit.
Meanwhile Ferris had taken out a clipboard and was already tallying the food stores and other items as the soldiers began shifting things around as if searching for hidden loot. Trev interrupted them just long enough to gather up two weeks’ worth of canned food for himself and Lewis.
By the time they’d finished loading up the wagons with everything they could manage from the shelter Trev had begun to feel like a trespasser in the comfortable, snug underground home they’d created. Ferris was already acting like he owned the place, barking orders and cataloguing everything. Lewis seemed to feel it too, because he was in a hurry to tell the FETF administrator that they were ready to leave.
Before anything else Ferris forced them to go through the indignity of being frisked, then the short, thin bureaucrat personally inspected their wagons for contraband or whatever else he thought he’d find. Trev couldn’t help but feel a little tense as the man poked through his possessions, worried that some arbitrary whim on the man’s part would get him in trouble, but thankfully Ferris didn’t raise any alarms as he moved on to Lewis’s larger and better filled wagon.
Once the administrator had rummaged through their stuff to his heart’s content, withholding a few small but valuable items for what seemed purely greed or spite, he stepped back and waved them on their way. Lewis wasted no time in pulling his wagon down the dirt driveway from the shelter to the dirt road, where he turned west towards the foothills leading up to the Manti-La Sal range.
Trev hurried to follow, doing his best to ignore the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades that the FETF soldiers had their guns pointed at his back. He didn’t turn to check.
With his cousin leading the way they pulled their wagons up the road to where it ran behind the hill out of sight of the shelter.
Two wagons loaded with a few pitiful possessions. Everything they had left in the world aside from what was in the cache. Trev knew he should feel angry but instead he just felt numb, like he’d been hit in the same place too many times and it didn’t hurt anymore. It seemed like ever since the Gulf refineries attack people had been robbing him, more often successful than not. It was BS, and within him was building the sort of dull, grinding frustration that threatened to overflow into a boil.
Once they were well behind the hill and out of sight Lewis cut across the sparse grass and around a few scrubby sage plants to the woodpile, dragging his wagon behind it in case Ferris or one of his soldiers climbed to the top of the hill searching for them. Trev followed, glad the wood was stacked high enough to block them from sight. He hoped the soldiers didn’t come sniffing around, but he had a feeling they were too busy looting the shelter and celebrating their find.
While Trev busied himself digging down to the cache so they could start pulling out enough food to fill the wagons he couldn’t help but notice with some uneasiness that his cousin had retrieved his rifle and pistol. With almost chilling methodicalness Lewis put down a spare winter coat and began field stripping both weapons to make sure they were ready for use.
He did it quickly, showing the familiarity of long practice, and once he was done he did several magazine and chamber checks with each, then began doing carry and aiming drills starting with his G3.
Trev watched it a bit nervously. “Uh, Lewis?”
“Just making sure there’s no problems with my equipment,” his cousin said shortly.
“Okay. It just, um, kind of looks like you’re getting ready to go start shooting things. Things wearing body armor.”
Lewis had been doing drills that entire time, but at that he finally paused, glanced at Trev, then sighed and set his rifle back down on his coat and slumped to a sitting position with his back against the woodpile. After a second he hit the ground, then his leg, and swore quietly to himself.
Trev was glad that at least his cousin kept his head enough to keep it down so the people just over a hundred yards away on the other side of the hill wouldn’t hear. “I know man, it sucks.”
“Three years, Trev. Installing security systems all day and cramming into an apartment with 5 other people to save money, all to earn enough to pay for everything I needed. And every second of extra time I wasn’t doing that I sunk into the shelter. Endless hours researching, purchasing, building, improving, learning, and practicing. That’s my life.”
“I know,” Trev said quietly. “I barely did a tenth of what you did, and most of it was thanks to the time you’d already spent researching and finding places to buy things, and I still feel like I’ve had my gut ripped out through my mouth. I can’t even imagine how it is for you.”
“It’s not just the time we spent,” Lewis said through gritted teeth. “That shelter was our future, our short term survival and longterm thriving. It’s literally life and death. And that smug little weasel just comes and takes it all away from us to give a whole bunch of unprepared entitled parasites meals for another few days.”
Trev slumped down next to his cousin, resting his head back against an uncomfortable chunk of wood. “This is all my fault,” he said miserably. “I lost us everything.”
His cousin shook his head and sighed. “They would’ve found out about this place eventually. They’re thieves, they wouldn’t leave us alone as long as they knew we had supplies they could steal. Plenty of people in town knew we had those supplies who might’ve eventually let them know, or they could’ve discovered the place while scouting around town.”
“But if Mandy hadn’t ratted us out we would’ve had time to get everything safely cached.”
Lewis looked over at their wagons piled with winter gear. “We managed to get as much as we could out of there. It could be worse. At least Turner decided not to mention our guns even though he knows we have some. Maybe he’s not a complete tool even if he is helping Ferris.”
Trev wasn’t sure he believed that, and he didn’t think Lewis did either. In spite of his calm words his cousin was practically grinding his teeth as he continued. “In a way there’s a small silver lining. After Mandy ratted us out, if we’d managed to cache everything Ferris would’ve taken one look at our empty shelter and known we had. He would’ve forced us to show him the caches. Maybe this way he’ll leave us alone now that he’s taken what’s in there.”
That made Trev feel even worse, and he was about to apologize again when his cousin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You took pity on a starving woman and helped her. You couldn’t have known she was a terrible human being who’d try to destroy your life for self-serving reasons.”
Trev nodded, although the reassurance didn’t make him feel any better. “So what now? The Larsons would probably take us in.”
“No,” Lewis said immediately. “Between FETF and the refugees this place his going to be full of starving people before winter even arrives. If we stay we’ll only have to worry about more thieves, including those wearing FETF uniforms. I’d rather spend the winter where we can be sure we’ll be alone, and where we might be able to hunt and trap ourselves some meat and even forage, since I snagged my book with all the information on edible plants in the area. A place we know well and have spent plenty of time exploring.”
His cousin was staring straight ahead, and Trev followed his gaze to the Manti-La Sal range looming over them to the west. “You’re joking,” he said, immediately hating the idea.
“I’m dead serious,” Lewis shot back.
“Our hideout? It’s barely a lean-to! We’ll be dead in a month if we last that long.”