That’s not exactly true. This isn’t Alaska. Seattle isn’t that far away and it’s known for mild winters. However, this isn’t Seattle. They’re in the mountains and it’s a different story here. Road plowing has taken a backseat since The Dying and the passes to their location are not for the faint of heart. It could get bad. Or it might not. They have no way to know.
Beau rests a hand on her shoulder and says, “We’ll get what we need. One way or the other, we always do.”
She knows this is true too, but the worry is there and it can’t be so easily shaken off. “We’ve got two babies due this winter and we need medical supplies in general. We need more vegetables too. Blankets, sleeping bags, clothes for the kids. Another woodstove wouldn’t hurt either.”
“We’ll get what we need. Don’t worry so much. It’s not always up to you to do all the worrying. If we have to, some of us will go down and get what we need. Even if we have to take a few weeks to shake off any followers, we can do it. And we might get a call tomorrow.” He pauses and nods toward the big antenna for their radio. “And maybe the snow is affecting our transmission.”
Willa lets out a big breath, trying to ease the tension inside. Beau is right. Willa hasn’t been able to shake her addiction to punctuality entirely. Their world isn’t run like that anymore. The tribe follows their own schedule.
“You’re right,” she says, smiling ruefully. “Let’s give it another day or two and then figure it out.”
“We will. It’s late, you should go to bed and sleep while you can. You don’t want to miss coffee in the morning.”
She laughs. “I wouldn’t miss that if it meant not sleeping at all. Want to come and bunk with us?”
With a grin, he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”
As they walk past the hut where Beau’s assigned spot is, they hear the sound of snoring.
*****
Too many people are clustered around her in the communications hut. When she’s done talking with their contact, she can barely turn around to face them. Bee and Beau are closest. Both wear the same concerned frown she does.
“You all heard for yourself,” Willa begins. “The truck was intercepted and our driver arrested. They can’t risk trying again for a while. In a way, we were probably lucky he got arrested instead of followed all the way here.”
A dozen conversations begin in the cramped hut, none of them directed at her. Only Bee and Beau are silent with her, all of them understanding what this means for their future. If they can’t get shipments reliably, then they’re going to need to fundamentally change the way they live. It won’t be comfortable. It won’t be what they’re used to.
Bee clears her throat, but that doesn’t work, so she uses her big voice and says, “Let’s clear out before the floor falls in.”
That works and people begin to shuffle through the door and out into the snow. Heavy flakes swirl lazily into the hut. Willa sees the beauty, but also the treachery in it. When they can’t get more sleeping bags, more stoves, more insulating blankets to hang around beds, the snow is a lot less ornamental and a lot more dangerous.
Bee is also right about the floor. There are alarming creaks and small snapping noises as the pressure eases.
When only Bee and Beau remain of the crowd, Willa nods to the communications watch and he slips the headphones back on, doing a decent job of pretending he isn’t listening.
“Well, this sucks,” she says.
Beau snorts a laugh and says, “That’s short and sweet, but true.”
“What are we going to do? If we can’t get reliable shipments, we’re not going to be able to stay here long term. This isn’t exactly a great place for most crops and I don’t see how we can manufacture medical supplies up here.”
Bee holds up a finger and asks, “How did people live up here before the modern world?”
“They didn’t,” Beau says. “Not year-round and not in one small area like this. They ranged widely along the whole area in different seasons. No group could survive in this small area, not without a lot of trade.”
“So what do we do?” Bee asks.
“We do what we can,” Beau says before Willa can jump in with more talk of leaving. “Things change every day and we roll with the changes. If we can’t get trucks up here, then we’ll use cars and less obvious vehicles. Or we get less from the outside and learn to make what we have stretch a little farther.”
Willa likes the hopeful nature of his words, but the reality is still grim. They have babies due before spring and bodies that need to be kept warm and fed.
“Listen,” she says, lowering her voice and coming close to keep her words private from the comms watch. “Things are getting organized again. They’re getting organized out there. They know there are women and now they’re actively looking for us. I know public policy is that no one is to apprehend women because it’s likely to kill us, but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to know exactly where we are and how many of us there are. This is going to mean more than rolling with changes. It’s going to mean fundamentally changing the way we live if we’re going to remain hidden for as long as we might have to.”
As she spoke, Bee’s face had grown harder, the lines harsh under the white glow of the LED lantern. Beau merely looked sad and said, “Maybe if we left, I mean—”
“No, Beau,” Willa interrupted, a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not doing that. I know
