The only thing he really had to look forward to was his wedding.
Chapter Eleven
Winter
The days-long snowstorm about a week and a half after Thanksgiving marked the end of any real adventuring for Trev and Lewis. At least any that didn’t involve slogging through snow that ranged from knee to hip deep, with only the faint hope that you might not sink all the way through the crust unless you could make your way through the densest clumps of trees where it was a bit better. Although even there you had to be careful not to brush a branch or you might end up buried in a mini avalanche.
Lewis had two pairs of snowshoes for when they really needed to get around, but after trying them Trev quickly learned that using them was as tiring as wading through deep sand. Something to avoid unless he was taking a long trip and really needed them. For slogging to the outhouse and back they were more effort than they were worth, especially once they’d stomped out a trail.
His cousin stopped the patrols, since at this point the winter would do a better job of hiding them if they weren’t making tracks everywhere in a half mile radius. They didn’t go up to the logging road at all, since that was the most likely place where unfriendly eyes might discover tracks. Instead they’d periodically slog down to the cliffs and from there scope out the mountainsides around them and the road below for any sign of people.
They never saw any.
Beyond that there wasn’t much they did outdoors besides visit the woodpile, the icebox, and the outhouse. On warmer days they tried their hands at snares and Trev even braved the climb down to the river for fishing now and again. The catches were few and far between, mostly not worth the effort, but during daylight hours they went out anyway, as much to escape the cramped but warm confines of their hideout as anything.
Days passed to weeks, then months, as their food supply slowly but inexorably dwindled. They started a routine inside the shelter of exercising and doing dry fire training drills with their firearms, lifting the cots off to one side to give them at least a bit of room. It got tedious beyond all belief after a while, but they stayed in good shape and as active as they could.
And nobody could say Trev wasn’t quick on the draw and good at swiftly lining up a shot on any random knothole or woodgrain, with arms that didn’t waver in the slightest. He was also more than prepared to clear any malfunction that didn’t involve his familiar Mini-14 or new Glock literally falling to pieces in his hands.
Every week on a day when the weather was decent they checked along the cliffs for interlopers, then hiked a short distance to a spot where hills surrounded them on three sides, most importantly in the direction of the road to block the sound. There they spent a few precious rounds keeping their aim solid with both pistol and rifle, repeating the familiar drills they practiced in their hideout with live ammo.
Trev finally mastered the recoil on his .45 to his satisfaction, and with extended practice with his rifle he got to the point where he could reliably hit targets far enough away that he had trouble seeing them through the scope, as well as multiple closer targets in a quick sequence of shots. He still felt like he had a lot to learn every time he watched his cousin’s practice, but time was on his side when it came to catching up.
As the winter months passed they remained in isolation, not even seeing signs of neighbors or travelers passing through, and Lewis was quick to insist that he was more than happy with that. For his part Trev wouldn’t have minded a bit of company now and again to relieve the monotony, and especially missed his college days that seemed a lifetime ago, where he’d been able to interact with people his own age.
Thousands of people his own age, often doing things he had no interest in doing. Then, that is: activities that had at the time seemed almost too boring to bother going to now filled his fondest memories, and he even missed the quiet focus and occasional laughing conversations of study groups. And dates. He really missed going on dates and other opportunities to spend time with members of the opposite sex.
He’d always enjoyed spending time with Lewis, and on those long winter nights they found plenty of topics of conversation to talk about. But with nothing new happening and no news coming in you could only say so much to the same person about the same things.
Luckily with his forward thinking Lewis had included some musical instruments with his other things, a few harmonicas and light plastic recorder, so they had something besides conversation to divert them. They spent many an hour clumsily learning to play all the songs they knew, and while at first the sound was worse than silence, or for that matter worse than cats yowling, eventually they improved enough to be enjoyable. Although after most sessions Lewis would end up grumbling about his left behind hard drives and the prospect of listening to real music.
It was his cousins’s second favorite topic, behind reminiscing about Aspen Hill and speculating on how their friends and neighbors were doing. Especially during the coldest nights of late December and January, with the wind howling outside and little light except what they could get from the stove, Trev thought he heard a bit of regret in his cousin’s voice, especially when his speculation started turning to how things would’ve been if they’d tried to stay in town for the winter, even with Ferris and everything else.
Trev had his own regrets about that, especially wondering how everyone felt about him after Mandy, but he didn’t dwell on it much aside from when Lewis brought it up. Ultimately here was where they were and where they’d be, unless they wanted to brave snowdrifts over their heads trying to get down the mountains. At least in the hideout the main thing they had to worry about defending against was snow piling up in front of their door or over the icehouse and outhouse. Considering the alternatives it was a foe he was happy to face.
Still, as January passed into February with March looming on the horizon Trev grew more and more restless, spending increasing amounts of time exercising or striking out along the snowy slopes around them even on the coldest days just to escape the dim confines of the hideout.
In spite of all the ways of producing light they’d brought they were running out, of batteries and kerosene and candles, and more and more he wished Lewis’s foresight had included a window. Or maybe a bank of south facing windows like Lewis talked about as the ideal setup for an underground house in winter, although he hadn’t had a chance to do it for the shelter or the hideout.
Either way Trev was more than ready for winter to be over. Whether they made their way back to Aspen Hill or stuck around in the mountains spring couldn’t come soon enough for his tastes.
The wedding took place one week before Christmas.
Matt’s parents and April all thought having it just three weeks after his proposal was a bit rushed, considering how before the attack weddings usually took months to plan. But it wasn’t like there was a venue to book, a cake to order, decorations to plan, coordinated tuxedos and dresses to rent, and guests on both sides of the family from all over the country to invite. No need to plan a DJ or a band, apply for a marriage license, sit through a surprise bachelor or bachelorette party, or any of the other things that went into weddings these days.
More than that, though, in their long discussions together on quiet nights Matt and Sam had both agreed that the world didn’t wait for things to be ideal anymore, and with an uncertain future it was all the more important to live the present to the fullest. Not that they considered their timing to be rushed, either: both agreed on what they wanted and couldn’t see any reason to delay.