Nuclear winter book 4 go.., p.1
Nuclear Winter | Book 4 | Going Home, page 1
part #4 of Nuclear Winter Series
Going Home
Book Four of Nuclear Winter
By
Nathan Jones
A continuation of the story in
the Best Laid Plans series.
Copyright © 2018 Nathan Jones. All rights reserved.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is coincidental and unintended by the author. While many locations are real, the author has taken license in describing them, and some locations are fictitious.
by Nathan Jones
BEST LAID PLANS
Fuel
Shortage
Invasion
Reclamation
Determination
NUCLEAR WINTER
First Winter
First Spring
Chain Breakers
Going Home
Fallen City
MOUNTAIN MAN
Badlands
Homecoming
Homeland
Mountain War
Final Stand
Lone Valley (upcoming)
ISOLATION
Shut In
Going Out (upcoming)
Contents
Title Page
Prologue: New Memphis
Chapter One: Border
Chapter Two: Evasion
Chapter Three: Desperate Measures
Chapter Four: Final Stretch
Chapter Five: Old Friends
Chapter Six: A Detour
Chapter Seven: Coming Home
Chapter Eight: Guest of Honor
Chapter Nine: Old Wounds
Chapter Ten: Reporting In
Chapter Eleven: Tagalong
Chapter Twelve: New Arrival
Chapter Thirteen: Training
Chapter Fourteen: Raiders
Chapter Fifteen: Goodbyes
Chapter Sixteen: A Different Homecoming
Chapter Seventeen: A Night on the Town
Chapter Eighteen: The Verdict
Epilogue: Onward
Prologue: New Memphis
The drive to the border was more than a little uncomfortable considering the tension hanging over Pete's head between him and Jack, who was supposedly his best friend.
They stopped exactly twice, once to refuel and pick up extra cans so they could get all the way to Utah without gassing up again if needed. The other time was along the side of the road to relieve themselves.
It took less than thirty seconds for Pete and Torm to empty their bladders, and then they waited around for what could've been a half hour as Monty took the longest dump in human history.
Which led to the uncomfortable situation of them all stretching their legs leaning against the car waiting, while Pete did his best to pretend Jack didn't exist and his friend wisely kept his silence. In retrospect one of them probably should've stayed in the car while the other stayed outside, but Pete wasn't about to admit defeat by getting in now, and his friend looked comfortably planted against the hood.
“Come on!” Jack finally shouted at the bushes the young private had retreated into. “I'm the one still half drunk and violently hungover from last night's bender. What, are you giving birth in there or something?”
Pete winced, subconsciously reaching up to grip the wedding ring that hung on the chain with his dog tags under his shirt. He didn't like to think about childbirth, given his past, and his friend knew that better than anyone. Was that comment just a moment of thoughtless insensitivity or was Jack deliberately being a tool?
Keep it coming, buddy.
Okay yeah, he was definitely still pissed about catching his friend in the middle of a goodbye kiss with Lily. Five years ago, what seemed like an eternity now, Pete had saved the girl from a slave camp and had spent the next few months taking care of her as practically her older brother. Even after all this time apart he was still protective of her.
Which wasn't to say Jack wasn't a good guy, of course. After all, he'd been Pete's best friend practically since they first met as fellow exiles up in the boonies of northern Saskatchewan. But he was also, well, Jack.
His friend finally seemed to realize what he'd just said. He shot a guilty look Pete's way. “Oh, uh . . .”
“Yeah, you're just on a roll today.”
Jack sighed. “Okay seriously, man. I get this is something we need to talk through, and I definitely didn't handle it the way I should've when it came to being upfront with you. But are you really going to be like this all the way to Utah?”
Pete closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. One fair question deserved another. “Just tell me one thing,” he said quietly. “Do you seriously care about Lily, or are you just having fun with her until you get bored and go looking for someone new?”
His friend looked as if he'd been punched in the gut. “I don't . . . how could you even-” he started, expression somewhere between outrage and deep hurt. “No, man, just no. Of course I care about her, and you're my best friend. I wouldn't do that to either of you. Anyway she's the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I'd feel lucky if she wanted a serious relationship with me.” He laughed, a bit ruefully. “Actually I'm a bit worried she's going to get bored of me and try to find someone better.”
Wouldn't be all that difficult. With some effort Pete bit back the cutting reply, which Jack really didn't deserve. For a moment he ground his teeth in helpless frustration, furious at the situation but unable to really be angry at his friend. Then he slumped down to sit on the road against the front bumper. “I know you wouldn't, I shouldn't have even suggested it. I guess all this just caught me off guard.”
Jack sighed and settled down next to him. “Well the way you found out had to have sucked, and that's on us for not telling you from the start.”
“Yeah, that was pretty classless of you.” Pete turned his head slightly to look at his squad mate out of the corner of his eye. “But to be honest, now that I've had some time to get used to the idea I guess it's not the worst thing in the world that you two got together.”
His friend laughed. “Yeah, I can practically feel the goodwill and enthusiasm pouring off you.” Pete shoved him in response, and his friend shoved him back as he continued. “Honest truth, man? I think that no matter how many times you said you weren't interested, you were lying to yourself as much as the rest of us and really were, at least a little bit.”
Pete scowled at his friend, but decided not to get into that argument again. “Either way she's probably better off with you.”
“That sounds a bit more sincere.” Jack laughed softly, leaning his head back. “I'm glad you're being reasonable about it. I was half afraid you were going to beat the tar out of me when you caught us making out.”
“Well the trip's just starting.” Pete stood, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder for a moment. “Honestly. I guess you and Lily isn't so bad.”
Jack offered his hand, and Pete clasped it and helped pull him to his feet, both of them turning towards the bushes Monty was still crouched behind. In the car Torm was slumped behind the wheel, head leaning on it in a display of obvious impatience, and Pete had to admit he was about at the end of his rope too.
“Okay seriously, Private Montgomery!” Jack shouted. “I don't care if you've got a wicked case of stomach flu and you're currently purging yourself from top to bottom, pinch it off and let's go!”
The kid's voice drifted out of the cover of the bushes. “Dude, just give me a minute!”
“No really, are you reading a classic novel cover to cover back there? How many minutes do you want us to give you? I'd love to reach Utah sometime this week.”
“You wanna come wipe for me or something, make it go faster? Just give me a minute!”
Cursing quietly to himself, Jack slumped back against the hood. Pete settled in beside him, and they waited. And waited.
“So you know what's kind of funny?” Jack said after a few minutes.
Pete glanced over. “Besides imagining what sort of torment Monty has to be going through to make us wait like this?”
His friend snorted but shook his head. “No, I mean about Lily.”
He tensed slightly. “There's something funny about you dating her and not telling me?”
Jack hemmed and hawed a bit before recovering. “I mean yeah, in a way.”
Pete bit back a sigh. “Well I suppose the mood could stand to be lightened a bit.” He motioned for Jack to continue.
“It's just that, well, when Lily's not around you she's a lot different. She drinks and swears and says some hilarious stuff.”
Pete couldn't help but glare. Was his friend corrupting her?
Jack seemed to realize what he was thinking and hastily held up his hands. “I mean it's not like she drinks like a fish and swears like a sailor or anything, but you know, she doesn't hold back. And from what her friends tell me she was like that even before we met her. After all, she did grow up in a military camp and has dated more than one soldier.” He chuckled wryly. “Honestly, I think she knows you see her as an innocent kid, and she doesn't want to do anything to shatter that illusion so she tries to be better around you.”
That was actually kind of funny, in an ironic sort of way. And here Pete thought Lily had been the good influence on him and Jack. Maybe they'd all been good influences on each other.
Jack abruptly straightened, looking past him. “Finally.”
Pete looked over to see Monty finally emerging from behind the bushes, cle aning his hands with sanitizer before wiping them on his uniform pants. The young private grinned at them as if he hadn't just made them wait forever on him. “Hey, anyone called shotgun yet?”
For a moment they just stared at him in disbelief. Then Pete cussed him out and yanked open the back passenger's side door. “Get in the car.”
Soon they were back on the road, Torm driving and Pete riding shotgun while Jack dozed in the back and Monty stared out the window. None of them had devices with music and Pete wasn't in the mood for the radio, and since nobody else seemed to care they just drove in silence for a while.
Torm wasn't one to talk, and Pete was concentrating on the landscape around them, wary of threats even this far back from the border. Although with the Locust Swarm moving on things should be peaceful in the area now, since more conventional banditry was far less common on the east side of the Mississippi.
At least everywhere but the South, but that was Mexico's problem.
Given Torm's taciturn nature Pete was surprised when the PFC abruptly spoke up. “I want to clear the air.”
Pete glanced over at him. That usually wasn't a good way to start a conversation. “Fine.”
Torm kept his eyes on the road ahead, expression unreadable. “Why did you want me on this mission?”
Pete bit back a sigh. He'd sort of hoped this wouldn't come up. “The Captain wanted you, said you've got the best handle on the intel for when we debrief the guys in charge back home.”
The interrogator frowned slightly. “Okay, better question: why did you come then? With both of us gone Epsilon Squad's going to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Did the Captain want you along as well?”
“No, I requested to come.”
Torm finally turned to glance at him. “Why?”
From the corner of his eye Pete noticed Monty had turned his attention from the window and was staring at them. And while Jack still looked like he was asleep he wouldn't have been surprised if his friend was listening in as well. “I wanted to go home.”
The unkempt soldier snorted in derision. “Try again, Corp.”
Pete's wariness gave way to irritation. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“That you came because of me. I'm thinking any or all of three options: One, you think I'm a monster, and without you here holding my leash I'll commit some atrocity; Two, you're hoping to win me over on this drive and we'll be best buds by the end of it; or three, once we get to the States you'll ask for me to be permanently transferred to a post there where I'll be somebody else's problem.”
Some of those hit closer to the mark than Pete would like. There was no easy way to respond to those accusations, though, so instead Pete asked quietly, “What's your real name, Private?”
Torm stiffened. “What?”
“Some of us get nicknames,” Pete said. “I get it, I'm still trying to get rid of mine. But you gave yourself your own nickname, Torment. In fact, the squad started calling you Torm because none of us felt comfortable using the name you wanted.”
“What's your point, Corporal?” the man asked stiffly.
“I'm not making a point. I asked you a question.”
“I asked you one first.”
This time when Pete hesitated, Torm waited it out. The car was uncomfortably silent and even Jack's faint snores had stopped, as if everyone wanted to hear what he had to say. Finally Pete cleared his throat. “Have you been to the USA?”
His squad mate laughed. “I was born in the US. Ohio.”
“I mean the reformed USA, in the Rockies,” Pete clarified.
Torm shook his head. “No. We barely even get news from there these days. Everyone knows the Chainbreakers and the other American companies are basically part of the Canadian Armed Forces by this point.”
“Everyone's wrong.” Pete gave his squad mate a sharp look. “Yeah, I'll admit that while my main reason for coming was a chance to return home, the thought did cross my mind that you could do with a bit of watching. To be honest I'm not sure you know what we're fighting for.” Torm opened his mouth, and Pete continued sharply. “I don't know for sure what you're fighting for, although I have some idea. But I figured since we're going to the USA anyway I'd take the opportunity to show you why the rest of us put our lives on the line every day.”
“Don't give me some for King and Country BS,” Torm snapped. “We all fight to free slaves. We fight to kill the slavers who're attacking us. None of us care about some backwater remnant scraping together a living in the mountains.”
“I do,” Jack said quietly. They both turned to look at him, surprised, as he continued. “That backwater is my home, and I know for sure a few others in the squad care for their own reasons. We're members of the US Army, stationed in an allied nation aiding in defense and peacekeeping, and if we were Canadian soldiers I know a lot of men who'd feel and think a lot differently about what we're doing.”
“Like how?” Torm sneered.
Pete answered before his friend could. “I never set a specific enlistment term. I haven't even brought it up with anyone in charge, although mine should've been up years ago depending on how long I signed up for. And I'm not even close to the only one who's fighting with no end in sight.”
Torm didn't respond and the car fell silent again. Pete wasn't sure whether his clumsy attempts had some impact, or whether Torm had decided to live up to his side of things, but after a few minutes the man cleared his throat. “Kyle Paulson.” He turned to give Pete a glare, which he then directed over his shoulder at their squad mates in the backseat. “But you don't use it. Ever.”
After a few seconds of pondering that Jack cleared his throat. “Radio?”
Pete leaned forward and flicked it on, then searched the channels until he found one that was actually playing music.
Jack made a disgusted noise. “Country?”
“Hey man country's the best,” Monty protested.
They both looked at Pete, who just shrugged. “Welcome to the South.”
It took about four hours to get from Lafayette to the trading post of New Memphis, which had been built in the ruins of Memphis, Tennessee. Specifically, the trading post hugged the few major highways passing through the ruined city, creating an odd effect where newly built or renovated structures were surrounded by collapsed and burned, and definitely thoroughly looted, buildings on all sides.
He couldn't think of any comparisons to make about the sight that weren't morbid, but he supposed the vitality of the trading post provided some hope that one day Memphis would be fully restored.
It was a bustling place, not exactly a city in spite of its location but much more than a shanty town. It was also the biggest trade hub on the newly stabilized border between Canada and Mexico, home to citizens from both nations. Because of that it was sort of a gray area policed by both nations, while the respective Canadian and Mexican authorities had set up their border checkpoints where the highways entered the trading post to the east and west, respectively, with Mexico starting on the west side of the Mississippi and controlling the bridge across.
New Memphis also paid taxes to both nations, which seemed just fine with its residents since so much wealth flowed through it. It also had lax laws about imports and exports, with stuff that might be turned away at one checkpoint or the other being sold openly on the streets.
Along with that came a healthy smuggling trade and an absolutely enormous black market. And of course to go with the variety of restricted or illegal goods came the availability of restricted and illegal services, for those who were interested and willing to take the risk of being beaten and robbed or worse.
“We should pick up some stuff to smuggle across the river on our way back from Mexico,” Torm said idly as they sat in the line of cars waiting to be passed through the Canadian checkpoint. “We've got courier status so nobody's going to search us. We could make a killing.”
A slightly uncomfortable silence fell as everyone else in the car tried to find a way to disagree with that ludicrous idea without getting on the bad side of a soldier who'd spent most of his military career as an unsanctioned torturer.
