Those who remained at the roadblocks learned to pass their time staring out at the road, and Trev convinced them to implement brief breaks to stretch their legs that also happened to take them out beyond the roadblocks to spots where they could see a good distance and keep an eye on any approaching intruders.
There began to be more and more of those as the weather grew warmer and the refugees once again took to the road searching for a safe haven that wasn’t to be found. The Mayor held firm to her resolution to accept any newcomers into Aspen Hill, settling them in the houses of those who had died over the winter, so long as they knew that they could expect no handouts and had to be content with the opportunity to forage or hunt their own food.
Many took the deal anyway, since it was better than the violence of encountering roving bandits or being turned away with harsh words or worse at other towns they approached. It appeared that Price and Carbonville’s loudly proclaimed intention to take in all refugees and find a way to help them had devolved into turning away all comers and fiercely protecting their borders.
When he wasn’t at the roadblocks Trev was out hunting with Lewis and Matt, and sometimes Jane and Tom and his son Alvin. Trev had expected that they’d bring down any deer or maybe rabbits that they saw, but Matt and Jane’s group were all quick to target anything that moved and had meat on its bones, from the occasional squirrels to potguts to roving slat-ribbed wild dogs, of which they encountered a few. Lewis even made it a point to bring his .22 rifle to shoot the varmints, and Tom had his .22 as well when he was with them.
The deer they did manage to bring down were always cause for celebration, but it was mostly smaller game that filled the pot and kept everyone in the shelter fed. That and the emerging green plants foraged by anyone who came across anything edible, no matter how unpalatable the taste.
Their meals were taken with particular care given to Sam, who received a bit extra at everyone’s insistence in spite of her halfhearted protests. And the expecting mother valiantly fought her morning sickness to hold down valuable food they couldn’t afford to waste. It seemed to be working, too, since to everyone’s relief she looked healthier and stronger by the day.
There was one good thing that happened a couple weeks after he and his cousin returned to town, that did more to alleviate the town’s worry for long-term sources of food than the remnants of their cache had. The patrol along Aspen Hill Canyon called in to report a flock of sheep coming down from the mountains, herded by a modest sized family called the Normans that a few people in town were vaguely acquainted with. The shepherds were there asking after a chunk of their flock that had disappeared last fall, showing signs of being driven towards Aspen Hill.
Catherine personally greeted the family and admitted that the town had found the animals unattended and brought them back for food. The shepherds were only slightly mollified by promises of payment, which would be a bit difficult since the family didn’t seem too interested in precious metals.
They were, however, interested in arming themselves with proper weapons for self defense, and even more interested in the fact that Aspen Hill remained a fairly orderly and peaceful place in spite of all the chaos that winter. They’d had a few run ins with less peaceful, orderly people and were looking for a friendly town to trade with and live in part of the year when they weren’t grazing their flock.
The Norman family was eagerly accepted into the town and offered the nicest available house, and had soon settled in. They were fiercely protective of their flock against the hungry eyes of desperate townspeople, but with some haggling the Mayor was able to convince them to sell some of their older rams and ewes for meat, as well as a few that had been injured over the winter. The important thing was that they were self-sufficient and part of the community, which meant by extension that the town had at least some livestock to offer future security.
Lewis talked about purchasing a few lambs if the Normans were willing to sell, but that was something they’d have to wait for since none had been born yet this spring. Having a flock of their own was something to look forward to, along with trying to trap a few rabbits alive to start their own hutch.
In the meantime, between hunting and their duties protecting the town Trev and his cousin also took time to carefully prepare their plot along the canyon stream as they anxiously watched the skies for the spring planting. The temperature improved day by day, and two weeks after Trev and Lewis got home many of their neighbors decided to plant, including the Larsons and Watsons. Ever the careful one, Lewis insisted they wait another week just to be safe.
Thankfully no frost arrived to threaten the tiny shoots emerging in many of the plots, but Trev didn’t begrudge his cousin’s caution as they got to work planting their own plot, one of the largest with only the Aspen Hill general plot covering more area. They opened each packet of seeds with care, careful not to waste even one of them if they could help it. Trev was slightly alarmed at how many packets were required to plant the entire plot, but Lewis assured him that the seeds were all heirloom and when the plants they produced went to seed they’d gather and preserve those for the next year’s crop.
At least that was the plan. His cousin had read up on preserving seeds and even watched a few videos, and so far his studied knowledge had translated decently into practical applications. Lewis’s dream was to move beyond the need for long term food storage to where they could provide for themselves reliably day to day with their own two hands.
“Preparedness is better than being unprepared, but it’s much, much better to be self-sufficient,” he said more than once. And considering that they were nearly out of the food they’d prepared Trev was more than ready to move into self-sufficiency. The alternative wasn’t attractive.
He did allow himself a little hope for the harvest, though, and even joked to others that with any luck soon they’d be learning how to preserve whatever grew for the winter. Canning and drying were mostly lost skills, although some in the town, mostly older residents, still had experience with them. In preparation for what all hoped to be a bountiful harvest each and every house, abandoned field, and garbage pit was rummaged through for old glass or plastic jars and bottles.
Canning jars with pressure sealed lids became a prized commodity, and unsurprisingly Lewis had several boxes of a dozen, all tightly sealed with plastic to keep them clean and protect them from breaking. Even better, while cleaning out the shelter Ferris had ignored them as useless.
Needless to say, once the plot was planted they guarded it nearly as fiercely as they did the shelter, working with their other neighbors growing crops alongside them. No one wanted to see these crops harmed or stolen, and the only place in town more secure was the storehouse itself.
It was just after Lewis and Trev finished planting three weeks after their arrival that the routine was finally broken, in perhaps the worst way possible. At least for Trev.
He’d just finished scouting past the roadblock, spying nothing but a group of townspeople combing over the landscape looking for any edible greens, and had come back to resume his position on the cars when he saw Chauncey waiting there.
Waving, he hopped one of the cars to join the older man. “What brings you to Roadblock 2?” he asked. “Something happening? I didn’t hear anything over the radio.”
The retired teacher shook his head. “No. Well yes, but it doesn’t really concern the town. Or I guess it does, but…” He trailed off with an uncomfortable shrug. “I thought you should hear it since it might affect your family.”