Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

toward the gate.
    Trey was there, carrying one dirty plastic WalMart bag in his left hand and two in his right. A guy I didn’t recognize was with him. They sauntered toward the center of the camp like they didn’t have a care in the world, but I could see two separate groups of prefects shadowing them at a distance. I caught Trey’s eyes darting sideways and realized the truth: That huge muscle-bound dude was scared out of his mind.
    “Stop!” Dad ordered them.
    They stopped.
    “You brought our radio?”
    Trey lifted one of the WalMart bags. “Shortwave transceiver.” He hefted the other two. “Batteries.”
    Dad strode up to them, his eyes shifting warily from Trey to the other guy. I followed along. He took the bags from Trey.
    “You going to flense us now?” Trey asked. His eyes darted from me to Dad.
    “Why’d you decide to hand over a radio?” Dad asked.
    “You kicked our asses yesterday. If it was up to me, we’d come back with shotguns and street sweepers and wipe this latrine pit off the map. But it’s not up to me.”
    “You’re not allowed to bring in guns, are you?”
    “Nope. Some kind of candy-ass deal between the guards and Wolfe.”
    “Wolfe?”
    “He’s the captain. Guy who told me to bring you this here radio.”
    “I’m surprised the guards let the radio through.”
    “You bribe the right guard, you can get almost anything in. Except guns. So you going to skin us? Or keep your bargain?”
    “What bargain?” I said. “By attacking us last night, you broke whatever bargain there was.”
    “Told Wolfe not to trust the cattle.” Trey shrugged, making an effort at being nonchalant, but his shoulders were trembling.
    Dad said, “Let’s see if the radio works.” Then he called out to the prefects, “Hold these two here for now.”
    I carried the radio to our tent. Dad got out the flashlight and started shaking it while I dumped the bags on my bedroll.
    When the flashlight was charged, Dad held it on the radio. I grabbed the pair of wires coming out the back: one red, one black. They were greasy, as if they’d been installed in a car at some point. “Does it matter which one connects where?” I said, eyeing the terminals on the battery.
    “It matters,” Dad replied. “If it’s like jumper cables, the red wire is positive and the black is negative. Hook up the positive side first.”
    “I can’t tell which side of the battery is positive.”
    “Should be printed on the casing.” Dad aimed the shake light at the battery.
    The terminal labels were embossed into the plastic battery case. There was no obvious way to connect the wires to the battery. They terminated in a strip of bare copper wire—there were no alligator clips.
    I held onto the insulated part of the red wire, pushing the copper lead against the positive battery terminal. When I pushed the black against the other terminal, sparks flew, searingly bright in the dim tent, and I dropped both wires.
    “Least we know the battery’s good,” Dad said wryly.
    “Is it supposed to do that?”
    “Yeah, it’s fine. Try the other battery. And just hold them there a minute so I can see if the radio works.”
    The black lead sparked again, but once I had it firmly against the terminal, it quit.
    “Here goes nothing,” Dad said, pushing the power button. Nothing happened.
    “Bum radio?”
    “Don’t know.” Dad pushed down the button again, holding it a couple of seconds this time. The radio crackled to life, and a staticky hiss filled our little tent. He dialed through the channels quickly but picked up nothing.
    He pulled the mic off the side of the radio and depressed the lever. “Any idea how to check if this thing works?”
    “Not a clue,” I said. “Ben might know. It looks like some kind of military radio. He’s gaga over anything military.”
    “That meltdown the other day didn’t inspire my confidence.”
    “You got a better idea?”
    Dad spoke into the mic, “Hello, hello, anyone there?” When he let up on the lever, the staticky hiss resumed. He shrugged. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll take you off the patrol rotation tomorrow. You and Ben can try to raise someone on this thing. Might be more likely to reach someone during the day, anyway.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Jones!” Dad yelled. “Round up all the DWBs we’ve got and march them to the front gate. Let ’em go, and then keep a sharp watch to make sure nobody else comes in.”
    “Yes, sir!” Jones yelled from outside the