In the fifteen days that had passed since the war began and ended, the little town of Ortho had doubled in population. Many of the folks who lived in the hinterlands had decided to move in closer to the center of things, such as they were. Mostly, the newcomers were older—Victoria guessed the average age to be sixty—and the lack of transportation left them too isolated out in the woods.

For the most part, the townies opened their homes to the newcomers, but that situation was quickly becoming untenable. People didn’t have enough resources for their own families, and the presence of strangers was becoming an unwelcome burden.

The town had a doctor now. Until two weeks ago, Rory Stevenson had been an orthopedist, but now he was a good old-fashioned country doctor. He’d moved to town from his mountain cabin specifically to be of service to the community. He did the best he could with what he had, but without modern diagnostic tools and a dwindling supply of modern pharmaceuticals from the stores of the Ortho Pharmacy, much of what he offered was palliative care. Thirty-five and in excellent health, Dr. Rory had aged fifteen years in fifteen days. Victoria worried about his workload, but he was one of one. A hell of a burden. Victoria had assigned Caleb to help the doctor out, and, apparently, he was doing a good job.

Running water was a problem, too, as were sanitation facilities. People out here drank well water, but without electricity, the well pumps didn’t pump. The homes that had propane generators were in good shape, but sooner or later, those propane tanks would run dry.

Victoria had no idea how to design a manual pump, but Lavinia Sloan did. A welder by trade, she also dabbled in blacksmithing, and she loved to study the old ways of the ancestors. She’d been able to bring an antique handle pump back to life, and she’d installed it in the bathroom of Dr. Rory’s house. She promised that more would come. She also took on Victoria’s son Luke as an apprentice, though Victoria feared that he would be more of a mascot than an asset.

As for sanitation, the proximity to the river helped. Even with water pumps idled, toilets still worked if you primed the tanks. Newcomers were going old-school with their own privies. Those who lived within two hundred feet of the river had to get the approval of Dr. Rory before they could use them.

Victoria still smiled when she remembered his reaction when she gave him the assignment: “As if I need any more shit to do.”