There's a small town about ten miles away. It has almost nothing of value in it, not because it's been looted but simply due to location and a population that mostly evacuated here. The locals came to the Bunker, and they brought most of the food and other supplies with them.
One thing they left were the cars, trucks, and other vehicles. The whole town had a population of less than a thousand, but luckily there's a mechanic's shop. We've got a dozen people working to strip down every vehicle we can use to the frame. There isn't enough gas to use them to transport everyone, not by half. So we're doing the only thing we can think of--removing the engines, panels, anything and everything we can to lighten them up, and we're going to use them to carry supplies. They'll have to be pulled by people, but with three hundred of them, it won't be hard to do. Just annoying.
I'm helping oversee the rationing of the supplies for the trip, so today's meeting is being run by Will and Becky. Steve is helping organize packing, and Rachel is feeling out some people who want to learn the real necessities of surviving and fighting out in the real world.
I don't envy Will and Becky for today's meeting. They've got the unfortunate task of telling these people that we aren't going with them when they leave. Hell, we can't even stay long enough to see them go. We've been put so far behind our schedule on this trip that we could get stuck a thousand miles from home when the snows start to hit. We can't afford to miss our revised times for a few of the appointments we have.
Honestly, I'd love to say that I want to stay and help these people. That I want to help them prepare and get to safety. Part of me wants to make that statement. The rest of me is already sick of them and irritated at how much most of them whine and complain, constantly moaning about the dangers they'll have to face. They've been locked up, I get it. I don't blame them for that. But you'd think, after explaining that the options are to deal with what's ahead rationally and decisively or to die, that more of them would get control of themselves and forge ahead.
Nah. I certainly don't wish them any harm, but after all these months, after all the death and loss and struggle, I just can't bring myself to feel much real pity for their shock and anger. Part of that might be because I know if they don't knuckle under and work, they're going to die. Quickly. And we can't afford to grow attached to people who aren't likely to make it.
Too many emotional traumas already. I'll check on our makeshift wagons in a bit. While I'm here, you can bet my team and I will do everything we can to get these people ready.