Siege Fall (Siege of New Hampshire Book 2)

by Mic Roland

  “Okay…”

  “If I do still have it, it’ll make a handy air bypass valve. If we don’t have it, we’ll have to cobble something else together. It’s worth a little rummaging.”

  Susan walked into the shed looking less than enthused at her treasure quest.

  Martin sat on an inverted paint can while he tried to bend a hand-made elbow into fitting the carburetor opening. In his peripheral vision, he saw Trish approaching from the back door. Instead of her usual ponytail, her brownish-blonde hair was down around her shoulders. She had that twist to her walk again, her coat zipped up.

  “Still working on your project, hmmm?” She leaned over, pretending interest in Tin Man’s seams. “You’re sooo smart, Martin.”

  “Thanks,” Martin replied flatly. He did not look up, but continued trying to thread small nuts onto fussy thin studs. “Did you need something?”

  “Well, actually, I did have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Go on. I’m listening. Just trying to get this fitting to seal up against the carburetor.”

  “Well, I know how Margaret has her meals all planned and stuff…and I know she’s trying to do it to help everyone…and I can really appreciate all the time she puts into it and all…but….”

  Martin did not feel inclined to help Trish out conversationally. She would get to her point eventually. He had tiny washers to not drop in the dirt.

  “Well, I was just thinking that since you’re in charge of the whole house, you would be able to see the bigger picture…that maybe everyone in the house isn’t exactly equal…I mean equality is a wonderful thing and all, but you and I both know that sometimes, someone is more important and the usual rules don’t necessarily apply. I mean, I can see how things really are around here.” She tossed her hair back and struck a couple fashion-catalog poses.

  Trish had to wait until Martin stopped making noises with his metal file.

  “And, well, I really think you deserve a little extra for all the hard work you do around here. And what you did with your well-deserved extra portion…well, that would be your business and nobody else’s, right?”

  Since Martin was not looking up at her, she leaned over. “Gosh, it’s kinda warm out here.” She unzipped her coat part way. Martin continued to work without looking up more than a quick glance — which was more than enough. There was nothing but pink within the teal jacket opening. Martin sighed.

  Undaunted at Martin’s apparent lack of appreciation, Trish continued. “You know, it really is quite warm for this time of year.” She unzipped her jacket further. Martin caught enough of a glimpse of a red push-up bra to prompt a deeper sigh, and tighter focus how the homemade fitting seated against the carburetor flange. Trish was of average build, but the undergarment designers had succeeded in making average look like abundance. Martin still had not looked up, so she shifted her weight from one leg to the other like a model at the end of the runway.

  “So, as I was saying, what you do with your rightful supplies is your business. You could use them however you liked. No one need know how you use them, either, right? They’re yours, fair and square. I know I would certainly like a little more to eat, but that’s how it goes. The meal plan is the meal plan. I’m certainly okay with that. We all can’t be the leader like you…and you are an excellent leader, Martin.”

  Martin was not appreciating her enhanced-average-form as much as she expected. She leaned over, deeply, to whisper and present maximum assets. “I looked on the watch schedule, and I saw that you’ll be relieving me at 8:00. I’ll see you then…Martin.”

  She zipped up her coat and sauntered up to the back door, pausing once to toss her long hair aside and cast a big smile over her shoulder.

  Martin let out a big sigh when the back door closed. He was glad that was over.

  “Now don’t tell me you didn’t see THAT!” said an angry Susan from behind him. “I was in the shed the whole time. The whole time! I heard everything. I SAW everything. Oooo. She makes me so angry. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. You had to notice. How could you NOT notice?”

  “Calm down. I noticed. I might be a little slow, but I’m not that dense. I figured out what you were talking about at the last target practice.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” she demanded, hands on hips.

  “First thing will be to trade watches with Dustin.”

  “And then?”

  “I think that’s it.” Martin stood up and brushed the metal shavings off his pant legs.

  “That’s it?” Susan was stoking up a full boiler of rage. “But she was practically throwing herself at you. Promising…well…strongly hinting that she’d…and in a red bra! She was standing with her back to the house and no one could see what she was doing…except I was in the shed and I saw. Ooo, she makes me so mad.” Susan’s white fists vibrated beside her hips.

  Martin touched her hand, which startled her into silence. He looked her in the eye and spoke softly. “First off, she was just doing that to try to get extra food. That’s all. She didn’t plan to do anything except be flirty and imply things to get her way. I’m guessing that’s worked for her in the past. She wasn’t going to actually do anything. Even I could tell that.”

  “But who does she think she…”

  “Second, I’m not as shallow and stupid as she thinks. Maybe all the guys she’s ever known have been drooling brutes who can be hypnotized by a red bra. I don’t know them, but I do know me and I’m not like that. We’re all living in tight quarters these days. We all have to put up with each other and try to get along. I’m not going to create piles tension by ratting her out.”

  “But she…”

  “And third, I have a much bigger problem.”

  Suddenly, all her steam vented away. “What?”

  “The reason you’re so angry.”

  “Oh.” Susan went from super-heated steam to icy waterfall. She stared at the ground for a long time. Martin let her stare in peace. He could see many wheels turning. There was a great deal he was not saying, so it was only fair that she be allowed time to not say things too.

  When her inner computer had run through the complex equation and printed out an answer, she glanced up at him with a worried look. “Are you…upset with me for it?”

  “No. That’s part of why it is my biggest problem.”

  “Hey, look at the cool stuff I found.” Dustin walked up with a shallow box. “I’m sure glad mom never got around to cleaning under my bed. These little springs will work great for making up a throttle valve. Did you find that ball valve?”

  “Yes,” Susan said. She held out the valve for Dustin, but continued to look at Martin with her sad-puzzled look. “Then…what do we do?” she asked faintly.

  Dustin snatched the valve from her hand. “Use it as our air mixing valve, that’s what. This has got to work. It’s just too cool NOT to work.”

  “Listen, Dustin. I’m trading watches with you tonight.” Martin said.

  “Really? You’re okay with coming on at midnight?”

  “Yes. It’ll be good for me. Best for everyone, really.”

  “Cool. Hey, I can get an early start on chipping up some more fuel. Oh, I see you got that carburetor fitting done. That looks awesome. I’ve got the intake tube almost made up. I’ll glom on this ball valve and rig up a little butterfly whoozie and maybe we can give it a go for real.”

  Martin smiled at Dustin’s tinkering enthusiasm. “I’m going in the house awhile. Will you be okay out here on your own?”

  “No problem. Don’t be too long though. I plan on working like lightening.”

  “Susan, would you go throw some more litter in the chickens’ run, please?”

  She nodded, but stood still.

  Lance and Miri were hunched over the Simmons’ wood stove. Scraps of cardboard, lath and aluminum foil were scattered at their feet. Margaret could easily read the ‘what the heck?’ look on Martin’s face.

  “Miri and Lance ma
de a little dehydrator for the top of their wood stove the other day. They don’t have a generator, so they needed to dry their remaining freezer meats. They thought we’d like one too, so came to show us how they did it.“

  “Your wood stove is a really different shape from ours,” Lance said without looking up. “Gonna take some fussing and fitting, but I’ll betcha we can get something…”

  “That would be great, Lance. Thanks,” said Martin. He turned to Margaret to whisper, “Let’s go in the kitchen a minute.”

  “Okay. We’re in the kitchen. What?” she whispered.

  “I think we might have a little problem brewing with the Dunans. Trish was outside just now, strongly…um…hinting that she’d like more food than your meal plan gives her.” Martin knew the red bra approach was an irrelevant complication, not salient to the food issue, and best ignored. He wanted to imagine that Trish, herself, would soon look back at her actions, be horrified and wish that no one ever knew what she did. Martin was more than happy to let the whole silly incident slip into the silence of the past.

  “If you’re asking for her…”

  “No, no, no.” Martin held his hands up. “Not asking for anything. Just saying that she was asking as a heads-up.”

  “Well, they can’t have any extra. I’ve calculated everything out to make it last as long as possible. We can’t go deviating from the meal plan, giving food to people just because they’re still a little hungry.” Her frown was not quite a scowl, but it was working on it.

  “Yeah, um…about that…” Martin winced a little as he tried to select his words carefully. “When I was over at Nick’s, you know, after the beggars were run off, I saw a lot of FEMA meal wrappers on the floor.”

  Margaret’s frown evaporated.

  “I didn’t remember seeing Nick or Jess, or even Heather in the line on Wednesday. Certainly not up in the first half of people who got boxes before the truck left.”

  Margaret’s eyes were wide and sad. She had been found out, breaking her own strict rule.

  “They don’t have hardly anything, Martin.” Margaret pled her case. “I know we don’t have enough to last until spring, but they have even less. I can’t just let Jess and the kids starve while I…we…still have something.”

  “I know, I know,” Martin tried to sound sympathetic, not accusing. “It’s really tough. And I have to confess, I snuck some food out to the woods for that scruffy kid Andy I was telling you about.”

  “You what? Is that why you put half of your flatbread in your pocket? I’ll bet you didn’t think I saw that, but I did. I thought it was odd.”

  “Yes, that’s what I did, and it was probably a mistake, but it sounds like they’ve got next to nothing out there. What else could I do?”

  Margaret smiled a sad smile. “So you do understand.”

  “Yes, but it’s still a problem. If we have extra for Andy or the Oldham’s, how credible is it to say we don’t have extra for Trish and Adam?”

  “Because they’re still getting 1800 calories a day. That’s why.” Margaret started to raise her voice.

  “Shhh. I don’t know where they are,” Martin held his finger to his lips.

  “We still have decent meals. That’s why. Jess and the kids don’t. I can’t just eat my 1800 calories, knowing that Jess and the kids don’t have anything.”

  “They’re not completely out.”

  “Maybe not yet, but they will be soon. I had to do something.”

  Martin stared out the window for a moment. “Maybe I should try to do something.”

  “How would that be any different than me giving them something?”

  “I’ll take Nick up to town. Landers said the food pantry still had some supplies, remember? Maybe if I make some introductions, and Nick can plead his case, they might give him some aid. Maybe they won’t. I don’t know. Seems worth a try, though.”

  Margaret smiled. She had a co-conspirator.

  Fleeing Colors

  “What’s with the flowers?” Nick asked.

  “Oh. Margaret trimmed back her mums yesterday and wanted me to put them on Ruby’s grave. We’ll do that later, though. We can come up and over Stockman Hill on the way back.”

  “I really wanna thank you for helping out, Martin,” Nick said.

  “We haven’t gotten you anything yet,” cautioned Martin.

  “I know, but just coming along, showing me who to talk to…” Nick watched his feet as he walked. “I didn’t know there was a food pantry or about the shelter and stuff.”

  “It helps to come to the meetings,” Martin cringed inside at the irony. He had been avoiding town meetings for ten years and only attended two.

  “Yeah. I suppose. I really wanted to somehow make it on my own, you know? Provide for Jess and the kids. I tried to do some hunting in the woods out back. I heard you shooting — a lot sometimes.”

  “Oh, that was target practice. I’m trying to get my group a bit better with shooting. Could be more trouble with beggar types.”

  “Ah. Makes sense. Sounded like too much for hunting. Still, I went out in my woods, but couldn’t find anything. Jess is trying to be all brave about it, but I can see she’s really worried about the kids.”

  Nick lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk. The burdens of father and husband could be extremely heavy in lean times.

  “Oh, hey, Hi there, Simmons,” Landers came up to shake Martin’s hand. “How are you getting on with your new guests? Pretty good, right? They seem like a nice couple.”

  Martin noticed that Landers had conveniently forgotten the almost-fight at that Friday meeting. He was still trying to “sell” the relocation deal. Martin wondered how he would react if he told him about the red bra incident, but there was no way to even start that conversation. Some cans of worms are best left closed.

  “Yeah, it’s been…interesting,” Martin said. “But I came up, with my neighbor here, Nick Oldham. He’s in the house down the road from us.”

  Landers shook Nick’s hand heartily. “Moved in a short while ago? I don’t recognize you.”

  Nick dropped his eyes. “Actually, we’ve been here for almost twelve years now. Moved in when my son was just four.”

  “Oh,” Landers was at a momentary loss. Nick was yet another unknown resident.

  The small-town ethos of everyone knowing everyone had been strained, if not outright eroded, by the twentieth-century psyche of the bedroom community. Towns were just a place for people to sleep, not to live. They lived their lives elsewhere — mostly in their cars — commuting, at distant jobs, shopping malls, soccer camps, etc. Martin imagined that the selectmen had struggled for years with having a growing population of such shadow citizens.

  “You mentioned something about having some supplies in the food pantry,” Martin said. “Nick and his family are nearly out of food, so I wondered if…”

  Landers started to shake his head. “We don’t have that much and we’re trying to parcel it out to the families that took in the shelter folks. That Quinn guy said there’d be a supply truck on Friday. Even his packet described deliveries to restock our ‘local node’ until the next phase, but there’s been no trucks.

  “Please?” Nick actually clasped is hands in the archetypal begging pose. “My kids are getting hungry. I don’t mind the rice cakes…so much…but the kids need more than that…please? Anything?”

  Martin could see Landers’ shoulders sag. He was too much of a public servant to have a cold heart. “Maybe a little.” He rushed in the disclaimers. “But the food pantry can’t be a regular source for your family. It has a lot of other mouths to feed and not enough to go around.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Nick gushed. It was not quite a ‘yes’ but sounded like the lead-up to one.

  “Come this way,” Landers led Nick down to the Town Hall basement. Martin waited in the corridor. He did not want it to look like he was ‘shopping’ too.

  “Oh no, really. This is great. I can’t thank you enough. This is wond
erful,” Nick continued to gush. He came up the narrow stairway with the lid of a banker’s box in his arms. On it were several cans of vegetables, some small boxes, a bag of rice and a bag of dry beans. The box lid was an inadequate vessel.

  Everyone shook hands.

  “This is wonderful,” Nick kept repeating. “Jess and the kids will be so excited.”

  “I imagine,” said Martin. “Try to be careful, though. They might be tempted to eat until they’re full at the first meal, and when you’ve been hungry for a while, it can take a lot to feel full. Everything you have there could be gone in a day.”