by Nathan Jones
Matt complied, although he wondered if he shouldn't be using stronger antiseptics considering the weapon used to cut him. There was no telling how many other people that razor had tormented, and who knew how well or how often it had been cleaned. As Matt worked on cleaning the cut Sam broke away from helping Terry whenever she had a spare moment to come over and help him, and then once he finished that and bandaged it again she'd sit lightly on the cot by his head and stroke his hair, whispering comfortingly.
Her soothing wasn't completely for his wounds. Matt couldn't help but ask her if she was doing okay every time she came over, and he kept trying to convince her to get Terry to look at her to make sure she hadn't been more seriously hurt than she realized. It made an odd situation, with both of them trying to make a big deal about the other's injuries while downplaying their own.
Finally Sam kissed him firmly on the mouth and left to turn her focus completely to helping Terry, satisfied that if he had enough energy to fuss over her he couldn't be that bad off. He still caught her looking at him whenever she had a spare moment, though.
From Matt's place in the store it was a bit hard to see what was going on outside, although he could certainly hear it. He did have a good view of Councilwoman Tillman and the other two remaining members of the City Council just outside the store, doing their best to maintain order as the crowd in front of them grew larger and became increasingly more unruly as tempers flared. To start off they'd tried to distract the townspeople with electing a new Mayor in the wake of Anderson's murder, but that didn't last long since there was only one obvious choice.
The town would have an election to get everyone's vote, of course, but in the interim the crowd had unanimously nominated Catherine Tillman. Not only had she kept her head during the crisis and led the defense of the town, but she'd shown herself to be far more reasonable and levelheaded than her predecessor.
Matt approved of the decision. He just hoped she hadn't taken the office right in time to watch the town disintegrate around her.
The new Mayor was doing her best to prevent that right at the moment, trying to impose order on the chaos of the crowd. But in spite of the respect the townspeople had for her tensions were too high, and most of them wanted to vent their rage at what they'd suffered at Razor's hands.
“We don't have time for this!” she finally snapped. “We've got to chase down the rest of Razor's gang, we've got to restore order in the town and secure our borders as soon as possible, we've got to figure out where our next meal is coming from now that Ferris has emptied our storehouse, and most of all we need to figure out what to do about the refugees!”
That quieted the crowd somewhat. “I say we've been nice enough to those vicious parasites,” Ian Childress called. “Let's do what we should've done in the first place and run them off, make sure they all stay far, far away from Aspen Hill.”
“Why stop there?” Abel demanded. He'd come to get help burying his son and daughter-in-law, but stayed as the crowd gathered. “After what they did to my boy and his wife I say they deserve the same. Let's go in and shoot every last one of them!”
“Every last one?” Catherine demanded, raising her voice to a shout over the murmurs of agreement. “Including all the innocent men, women, and children who had nothing to do with Razor's gang and if anything lived in greater fear of them than we did? We've all heard the rumors of what's been going on in the refugee camp. I agree we need to punish the guilty, and we will. But the others deserve our sympathy, not our anger.”
“We've given them enough sympathy!” Ian shouted. “Thanks to Ferris they got far more “sympathy” than they deserved.”
The new Mayor raised herself up to her full height on the impromptu platform she'd made of the hood of the car nearest to the entrance to the store. “I wonder how much of our anger at the refugees is there to cover our guilt for how we've been treating them,” she said firmly. “For the uncharitable thoughts we've had of them, for how we've ignored their plight when we could've helped.”
An angry roar of protest rose from the crowd and she shouted over it. “I'm not talking about food! I'm talking about all the other ways we could have helped them but didn't because we were jealous of our food and thought giving them anything meant we'd have to give them everything.”
Catherine pointed back at the storehouse. “Well now we don't have any food either. We're in the same desperate plight as the refugees. It's time to forget everything that's happened and do things a new way, go forward instead of looking back.”
“I won't share any more food,” Chauncey shouted from his place at the front of the crowd. “And after Ferris I'm not about to let the town take anything from me at gunpoint, either. If you want to rob me in the name of the public good you'd better be ready to shoot me and have one less mouth to feed.”
This spurred another rumble of agreement. “No!” the new Mayor shouted, sounding frustrated. “That's not what I mean at all and you know it. In fact, just to prove that I'm proposing we implement two new resolutions effective immediately. First and foremost no more theft, not by individuals and not by any authority, official or unofficial. I propose Aspen Hill dedicate itself to protecting the personal property of all its citizens with no exceptions. Any theft will be punishable by exile. I want the town to work together to survive, but ultimately it's up to each and every one one of us to see to our own needs and no one has the right to prevent us in that. Charity is one thing, but now that Ferris is gone that charity will be completely voluntary, each person's own decision to make and with no stigma if they keep what they have.”
The crowd quieted. There were no calls of agreement for Catherine's proposal, but at the same time the dissent was dying down. She didn't look especially pleased by the lukewarm response but she stoically continued. “Second, we crack down on crime. Hard. Ferris let Razor and those like him commit atrocities while he looked the other way, but we won't. We'll do our best to follow our country's best tradition of fair and unbiased justice, but since we can't afford to care for prisoners that leaves us with two options: for lesser crimes we can think of some useful punishment, but for major crimes the penalty must be either death or exile.”
This finally drew some approving shouts from the crowd, although from the way the new Mayor was shaking her head she didn't seem to like where the townspeople's thoughts were going. “As I've said theft will result in exile, as will unprovoked violence and a host of similar crimes. The death penalty is far more serious, and we'll have to think hard about what crimes are deserving of it and of each individual case that requires it. But I think it's safe to suggest that we should put any members of Razor's gang we capture on trial with a sentence of execution if they're found guilty, not just for the sake of justice but for the safety of the town.”
Matt found himself nodding, and over where Sam was helping Carl Raymond with a drink of water she was nodding as well. In truth it was almost a relief to have Catherine speaking reason after all of Ferris's insanity.
The new Mayor took a deep breath. “Now I'm going to suggest something that will solve many of our problems, but will require a lot of work and cooperation and above all rethinking a lot of our biases. I'm certain you're not going to like my idea at first, but hear me out.”
* * * * *
Catherine was right, the townspeople didn't like her suggestion. Didn't like it at all.
But they heard her out, and after over an hour of heated debate and more than a little shouting, along with some people leaving in a huff, most of the town agreed to go along with it. Now close to a hundred residents of Aspen Hill were making their way towards the refugee camp, most of them armed.
Matt limped at the head of the group beside Catherine, leg sutured and properly bandaged by a frazzled Terry who clearly hadn't been ready to go from interning as a surgeon in a clean and orderly hospital to what basically amounted to battlefield triage. Sam walked at his side to offer a shoulder when he stumbled, but mostly so she could stay close to hi
m.
He was surprised to find that he'd become the town hero as word spread of his part in the attack. Not only had he broken through the attackers at the back door of the storehouse in his nearly suicidal charge and given the townspeople a way out so they could take the fight to Razor's thugs and retake their town, but he'd been the one to kill Razor himself and effectively end the fight.
Matt was embarrassed by the attention, especially since he felt like he hadn't really set out to do any of what he'd done. He'd just been responding to the situation as best he could. And every time he looked at Sam's bruised face he was reminded that in spite of everything else he'd failed to protect her.
She didn't seem to see it that way, though. When he looked into her eyes there was no blame there, only love and pride. His gratitude that she was in his life was compounded by his gratitude that she was still here with him after the terrifying afternoon they'd had.
When the townspeople reached the camp they found the refugees in a panic. Obviously they'd seen them coming up Main, the same way the people of Aspen Hill had watched Razor coming from the camp, and assumed they were there for the same thing. Many were outright fleeing, while others ducked behind whatever cover they could find clutching rocks, sticks, or other makeshift weapons. Matt could hear children crying and women screaming.
Catherine hurried ahead of the group to try to deal with the panic. “We're not here to fight!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, holding out empty hands. “We're just here to talk! Nobody will be harmed.”
Her reassurances didn't seem to do much to help, but the camp quieted down to tense silence as the townspeople got close enough to be in range if the refugees started hurling rocks, although thankfully no one did. With some help the new Mayor found a table to stand on and climbed atop it.
“Razor's dead,” she said first thing. “He tried to attack the town and failed. The men who followed him are either dead, captured, or have run away.”
The tenseness in the camp ratcheted up a notch. Matt wondered how many of these people had known Razor was going to attack the town, or for that matter had approved. And once again he had his doubts about whether Catherine's idea was prudent.
“The roadblock is going back up,” she continued firmly. This elicited an angry roar from the refugees, along with hurled insults and obscenities. Catherine raised her hands for quiet but didn't receive it, so she raised her voice instead. “The roadblock is going up, but all of you are going to be inside it with us!”
The angry shouts faded to confusion, and standing behind and a bit to the side of the table Matt sucked in a nervous breath.
That was the new Mayor's solution. The surest way to have lasting peace with the refugees and end the trouble in the camp was to invite them into town as citizens. Since Ferris had taken all the food the original reason for keeping them out was gone, and if things continued as they were nobody would be able to focus on surviving the winter because they'd be too busy suspiciously watching each other or even fighting. They needed to cooperate, which required a show of trust.
That was the idea, at least. Matt had no idea if it would work in practice.
“We can't feed you,” Catherine continued firmly. “We can't feed ourselves either. Ferris left the storehouse empty and that's the plain truth. But we've decided to move our people out of enough houses for you to all have shelter for the winter. We're also willing to lend you firearms and ammo, provided you swear on a Bible to use them for the defense of the town. We'll allow you to send men along on our hunting parties and forage for food on any Aspen Hill public land, and keep whatever food you find or hunt, aside from a portion of the meat going to the town for the rent of the rifles and ammo.”
There was silence among the refugees. “It's not a perfect offer or a perfect solution,” the new Mayor said, still calm but rushing her words slightly due to the lukewarm reception. “But nothing about this situation is perfect and it's the best we can do. We'll give you the tools to feed yourselves if you're able, and be right there beside you working to feed ourselves as well. It's time for us to stop fighting and cooperate or none of us will survive the winter.”
The silence stretched on, as if trying to crush the older woman with its weight. But it looked as if the refugees were at least thinking it over.
While they were doing that Scott stepped up on the table beside his wife. “The town has a few conditions,” he called. “Fair ones. First of all we want you to give up anyone who was involved in today's attack on the town, planning or carrying it out. However you may feel about us “townies” or your situation in the camp, that attack was unprovoked and the men involved committed heinous atrocities, including against innocent women. We want those who can be positively identified brought to justice.”
“They were just trying to get us our fair share from the storehouse!” one refugee protested.
Scott turned a hard eye on the woman. “They killed 14 of us, looted our houses, and violated three women. If you don't give Razor's people up our offer is off the table, and we'll even go a step further. Since we won't know for sure who among you attacked us we'll have no choice but to drive you all out of camp and far away from Aspen Hill, then do whatever's necessary to make sure you don't come back.”
“You think me and other women in camp haven't been violated?” the same refugee shouted. “You think there weren't murders among the tents? You didn't do anything when it was happening to us, but suddenly when your own are affected it becomes a problem you have to do something about?”
Catherine put a hand on her husband's arm before he could answer. “Administrator Ferris is the one who let the situation in camp get so out of hand,” she said firmly. “He took control of the town and put Officer Turner under his direct command. He confiscated our firearms so we couldn't have intervened even if we'd dared to go against his directives, and then he ignored everything that happened to you because Razor kept the camp quiet and that's all he cared about. Yes, it's horrible, and yes, it's not fair, but don't try to pin your problems on us.”
She paused, then continued. “In fact you should be thanking us, because now Razor's dead and Ferris is gone and we're in a position to punish those responsible for everything that's been happening to you and stop them from committing any further depravities. So give up the rest of the thugs who've been terrorizing you, come into town and spend the winter in warm houses, and let's put the bitterness and hatred behind us.”
Scott held up his hands again. “With two more conditions. First, the town guarantees everyone the right to their own property. There'll be no more gathering up and distributing food or anything else. To add to that anyone caught stealing will be exiled, no matter the circumstances, and if they try to return they'll be turned away. That goes for refugees and townies alike. Secondly the violence stops. Now. Anyone caught disturbing the peace will also be exiled or, if their crime is severe enough, executed. Land and order is returning to Aspen Hill.”
“The choice is yours,” Catherine continued as her husband fell silent. “Come into town, head to Price or some other place where you might have better options, or even stay in the camp if you wish. But as of this moment the camp is also part of Aspen Hill, subject to our laws, and anyone caught breaking them will receive the same punishment.”
She looked around at the crowd of refugees, hundreds in all, and her voice became firm. “Now. We want Razor's people, or any information you have on them.”
* * * * *
Hundreds of refugees took to the road to head for Price, distrustful of the offer to join the town right after it had come under attack by people from their camp. The rest, 338 people in all, were invited in, and Catherine managed to find enough families to double up to make room in houses for all of them. That included the Watts's house, as April and Terry and their boys moved back into the Larsons' house.
Not a single one of Razor's accomplices was turned in. The remaining refugees insisted that everyone in the gang had taken part in the attack a
nd none had returned to camp afterwards. Others who might have known about the attack fled with the group going to Price. Catherine wasn't too happy about that, but under the circumstances decided it wasn't worth pursuing the matter.
Most of the women Razor had kept in his employ, not all entirely willingly, had also headed south to Price, but a few were welcomed into Aspen Hill. They were happy to give detailed descriptions of everyone in Razor's gang, identifying the bodies of those who'd died attacking the town and giving the names and faces of those who'd escaped. That included some 27 men, including one of Razor's top men named Simons. Catherine made sure the descriptions were ready to be passed around when the patrols started up again that evening.
Things had just begun to be sorted out and the storehouse was still a busy hub of activity as volunteers from the town and even a few from among the refugees were directed in everything that needed doing. Matt would've liked to help, but Terry insisted he stay off his leg as much as possible or he'd tear open the sutures. Lacking antibiotics there was also the possibility the wound would become infected, especially considering its source, and he needed to rest and keep his strength in case he became feverish.
So Matt sought Catherine out to excuse himself and head home with his mom and nephews. Terry, April, and Sam were going to stick around to continue to help as much as they could, and Matt hoped they stayed safe.
Before reaching the new Mayor he was intercepted by one of the refugees, an older man who'd done most of the speaking for his people. “Matt Larson?” he asked stiffly. “The man who killed Razor?”
Matt nodded, a bit wary. “That's right.”
The refugee abruptly held out his hand. “Ben Thompson. On behalf of the camp I wanted you to know how grateful we are for ridding us of that parasite.”
That was a bit of a surprise. Matt had assumed the refugees looked up to Razor as their leader. “Do you speak for the refugees now?”
Ben snorted. “Now? I've always spoken for them.” At Matt's confused look he motioned irritably in the direction of the camp. “We all did what Razor said or we faced the consequences, but it was me everyone came to for help. I did what I could without getting myself killed.” As he spoke those last words he rubbed absently at a faded bruise on his cheek.
