Feast of the Locusts

by Mark Goodwin

  “Mr. Wilcox, what are you doing here?” Vicky’s reaction betrayed her disappointment.

  “Vicky! Where are your manners? Invite him in.” Kate placed the large cooking spoon in the sink and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She hurried into the living room. “Warren, good to see you.”

  “Hi, Kate.” He held a piece of paper in his hand.

  “What do you have there?” she asked.

  “James Dean and Don have agreed to a vote by secret ballot.” He handed the paper to her. “Pete Davis’ garage will act as the polling station. You may bring your ballot by anytime between six and eight o’clock tonight.”

  She read the selections. “Don Crisp, Security Council President and Jack Russo, Vice President or James Dean, Security Council President and Skeeter, Vice President.” She giggled. “This is silly. No one would vote to put Skeeter in charge of burning the trash, much less allow him to be one heartbeat away from the top security position.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ, Ms. McCarthy. From what I’m hearing, the residents are quite evenly split.”

  “Do you have more ballots?” Gavin asked.

  “One per household,” Warren explained. “HOA rules have always allocated one vote per property.”

  Kate argued, “But Dean isn’t even a property owner. How can he serve as Security Council President?”

  Warren sighed. “The title is just something we came up with to put a definitive end to the squabbling. From the HOA’s standpoint, it’s no different than hiring an outside company to patrol the street. Prior to the crisis, no HOA provided for their own security, unless it was an informal neighborhood watch or something of that nature.”

  Kate looked at Sam who was already staring at her. She knew this was going to be another fight. But it was too important. She couldn’t back down for the sake of keeping the peace. “Thank you, Warren.”

  “I’ve got to finish my rounds. I’ll see you tonight when you come by.” Warren Wilcox let himself out.

  No sooner had he left than Sam asked, “How do you want to do this?”

  “We’ll decide, by popular vote, which candidate our household will vote for.” Kate held up her hand. “All those for Don Crisp.”

  Gavin raised his hand. “Aye.”

  “No, no. Gavin doesn’t get a vote,” Sam protested.

  “Why not?” Kate asked.

  “He’s not one of the owners. He’s a guest.”

  “We’re engaged. He’s a little more than a guest.”

  “Even if you were married,” Sam continued, “you’d only get one vote. You have one share of the cabin, I have one share, and Vicky has one share.”

  Kate could not contest his reasoning. She looked at Vicky. “Who are you voting for?”

  “Oh no, I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Vicky waved her hands. “No matter who I vote for, one of you will hate me.”

  “You have to vote for someone, it’s your responsibility.” Sam took a step closer to his sister. “And it’s not just me, David is rooting for James Dean also.”

  Vicky backed away. “I don’t know, Sam! Quit pressuring me!”

  “It’s a secret ballot. Give Vicky the paper and let her vote for who she wants, privately at the polling station.” Gavin walked out of the room.

  Kate handed her the paper. “I guess it’s up to you.”

  Vicky took the paper and folded it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some thinking to do.” She tucked the ballot in the back pocket of her jeans.

  Kate glared at Sam. She felt agitated by the situation. Not knowing who Vicky was voting for didn’t help.

  Two hours later, Kate sat on top of an old picnic table inside Pete Davis’ garage. Vicky sat on the seat below, watching the procession of residents bringing their ballots, one by one, and dropping them in the small cardboard box at the other end of the picnic table. Sam leaned against an iron support beam near the table. David McDowell paced the floor between Sam and Vicky.

  Warren Wilcox and Pete Davis monitored the polling activities from the other side of the table. James Dean and his supporters milled about near the rear of the garage while Don Crisp and Jack Russo kept company with their camp by the entrance.

  Kate felt the tension in the building, ridged animosity, thick as three-day-old oatmeal. Vicky still had not cast her vote, had yet to retrieve the ballot from her pocket.

  “As soon as you decide, we can go home,” her brother reminded.

  “I know, Sam. This is important. I have to do what I think is best and both sides have a valid argument. I can’t base my decision on one of you not liking me or something silly like that. Look at all these people, this is critical.”

  David’s face was serious, much more serious than a fifteen-year-old’s face should ever have to be. “Vicky, you know how I feel, and you know why I feel the way I do. But regardless of what you decide, it won’t affect our friendship.” He took her hand.

  A gentle glow seemed to come across her cheeks. “Thanks, David. I really appreciate that. I wish my brother and aunt could be so considerate.”

  Kate fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Vicky, I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

  “Me, too,” Sam added. “But if you vote the wrong way, none of us may live long enough for that to matter.”

  Vicky stood up from the table. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. Dean and Mr. Crisp.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Kate offered.

  “No. I have to do this alone.” She pointed at Sam before he had a chance to speak. “And I certainly don’t need you to come!” Vicky offered a warm smile to David. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  Apprehension haunted Kate for the remainder of the evening. She watched the crawling procession of events, unable to affect the final outcome.

  Warren Wilcox made an announcement. Looking at his watch, he said, “The polls will be closing in five minutes. Afterward, Pete and I will count the ballots and announce the new Security Council President and Vice President. Once we’ve recorded the votes, we’ll make the ballots available for public inspection.”

  Vicky returned from speaking with the candidates.

  “Did you make up your mind?” Kate asked.

  Vicky took the ballot from her back pocket. “I think so.”

  Kate felt proud of her niece. Right or wrong, she’d given more consideration to her vote than perhaps anyone else in the community. She watched Vicky walk with determination to the cardboard box. She took the marker, made her selection, folded the paper, and stuffed it in the box.

  “Thank you, Vicky,” Warren said.

  Pete Davis said in a thundering voice. “Last call. Anyone who hasn’t cast their vote should do so now.”

  Moments later, Warren said to Kate, “Will your group please go stand by the other wall while we tally up the votes?”

  “Oh, sure. Come on, guys.” Kate made her way over to the Crisp camp. Sam and David did not follow. Rather they headed toward the rear of the garage, with Gene Tifton, Andy Reese, and the rest of the staunch Dean supporters.

  “Hey Kate,” Don put his hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for coming out.”

  “Sure.” She watched to see what Vicky would do.

  After about a minute of milling about in the middle of the room alone, Vicky looked at her aunt and began strolling toward her direction.

  Kate felt her innermost being welling up with pride. Once Vicky arrived, Kate put her arm around her niece.

  Jack tussled Vicky’s hair. “So much for your secret ballot.”

  Vicky turned to look at him. “I see the improvements you’ve made to keep us safe. Besides that, you and Don are kind. James Dean isn’t a leader, he’s just appealing to the mean streak in some people.”

  “You have wisdom beyond your years, Vicky.” Don patted her on the back.

  Whether Don and Jack won the election or not, Kate was happy that Vicky had made the right choice.

  Minutes later, Pete Davis said, “Our count is fifteen vot
es for James Dean and Skeeter; sixteen votes for Don Crisp and Jack Russo. Don Crisp is officially the new security council president of Apple Blossom Acres.”

  Kate and those around her clapped vigorously.

  Warren Wilcox held up his hand. “Folks, if you’ll hold your applause, I have a few words to say.”

  The room returned to silence.

  Warren looked to James Dean. “Mr. Dean, we welcome your recommendations and advice, but you’d do well to recognize the authority the community has placed in Mr. Crisp and Mr. Russo.”

  He turned to Don. “Mr. Crisp, while you are the security council president, your authority over Mr. Dean’s activities end at neighborhood boundaries and common areas. Mr. Dean is free to protect his property as he sees fit, offer any type of training he desires, and meet freely with other residents at his discretion, so long as it doesn’t interfere with the work of the security council. Furthermore, Mr. Dean and Skeeter, being able-bodied adult men, are required to serve security shifts. They are expected to do so without sowing seeds of dissension amongst the other guards. If it comes to light that this is happening, they may be asked to leave Apple Blossom Acres altogether.

  “Are these terms agreeable and hereby accepted by both parties?”

  “We accept the terms,” Don said.

  “I’ll abide by them as well.” James Dean was obviously sore over the defeat but seemed to force himself to swallow the sour bit of crow which, judging by the peculiar movements of his mouth, appeared to be tucked between his teeth and his jaw.

  “Very well,” Warren said. “Will the candidates please approach the table and shake hands?”

  Don and Jack approached the picnic table more quickly than Dean and Skeeter.

  “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Dean. We’ve already implemented several of your suggestions.” Don shook Dean’s hand.

  Jimmy Dean presented a hallow grin. “Same here, Don. Congratulations.”

  Pete Davis announced, “We’ll have a town-hall-style meeting here tomorrow afternoon at 2:00. We’ll open it up as a platform for Don to give an acceptance speech and for a brief Q and A afterward. Everyone, please help us spread the word.

  “Congratulations, Don and Jack.” Kate put her arm around Vicky and they headed for the door. “Good night.” She looked around for her nephew, but he and David were nowhere to be found.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.

  John 8:44

  Three days passed since the election. Late Saturday night, Kate stood inside the small metal guard shack at the entrance-gate checkpoint. She took off her gloves and warmed her hands over the small wood-burning camping stove. Gavin propped his AK-47 in the corner and did likewise.

  Kate took a steaming cup from Jack Russo who’d poured the hot beverage out of a graniteware coffee pot. “So this was Mr. Cooper’s tool shed?”

  Corey Cobb passed an empty mug to Jack who poured a cup for Gavin. Jack placed the pot back on the stove. “Yep. I think it’s right cozy.”

  “What if Mr. Cooper comes back?” Gavin blew on the top of his cup before taking a sip.

  “I’ll put the shed back just as I found it.” Jack glanced up at the stove pipe running out the side of the shed. “Except for a small hole, that is. It was kind of musty in here before anyways. The added ventilation should be considered an improvement.”

  Corey Cobb laughed. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to be Cooper if he asked for his shed back. That would be a good way to get all night shifts on the security detail throughout the winter. Jack is in charge of making the schedule.”

  Jack gave a sly grin. “I’d never do anything so vindictive, Corey.”

  “Yeah, right.” Cobb guffawed.

  Kate sipped her cup. “This isn’t bad. What is it?”

  “Dandelion tea. My grandmother used to make it.” Jack refilled the coffee pot from a plastic water jug sitting near the camp stove. “Just boil the roots. I’m glad you like it. Dandelion is one thing we have plenty of around here.”

  Corey said, “We had Thanksgiving one year with some friends who had a place in Asheville. The lady made hickory nut ambrosia. She crushed hickory nuts, shells and all, boiled them for an hour, then added milk and maple syrup. It was delectable.”

  Kate considered the concoction. “Huh, I wonder if you roasted the nuts before you boiled them if it might be a good substitute for coffee. That’s a commodity which is quickly running out.”

  “It would be worth trying. The squirrels have about cleaned up all the hickory nuts for this year. But maybe we can beat them to the draw next year.” Jack opened the stove and stuck in a small stick of wood.

  Gavin sipped his tea. “If we make it until next year, we’ll have a lot fewer squirrels to compete with. I’ve already noticed a significant decrease in their population.”

  Gavin’s comment hung like a dark cloud over the room and seemed to remind everyone that this was not some recreational adventure, but rather a desperate attempt to stay alive.

  Kate finished her tea. “On that uplifting, note, I guess we should be getting on with our patrol.”

  Jack stood from the small stool he’d been sitting on. “Okay. Stop back in to warm up after you make a round.”

  “Thanks.” Gavin picked up his rifle and followed Kate out the door.

  Kate and Gavin proceeded toward the perimeter trail, which looped around the community, then back down to the checkpoint. She shined her light up into the trees. Nearly leafless, they looked skeletal and lacked the vibrancy they’d displayed only weeks ago. She and Gavin stepped into the cold damp woods. A shiver went up her back and she reached for Gavin’s hand. “The forest is so creepy at night.”

  Her radio came to life. “Have a good patrol. Let us know when you come back around.” It was the voice of James Dean who was in the overwatch shelter with Pete Davis. “We wouldn’t want to have any friendly-fire accidents tonight.”

  Kate pushed the talk key. “No, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

  Gavin grunted and said to Kate, “Was that some kind of underhanded threat?”

  “It’s just Dean being Dean.” Kate focused her light on the trail and into the forest ahead. “He’d have a real problem on his hands if he ever pulled anything like that.”

  Gavin focused his beam to the left, then checked behind them. “I worry that Dean is pumping Sam for information.”

  “What kind of information?” Beginning the steep incline to the top of the mountain, Kate watched her steps carefully.

  “Like how much food we have stored, how much ammo, things like that.”

  “You think Dean is going to rob us?”

  “This little all-for-one experiment that we’re doing has already proven to be a façade, and a fragile one at that.”

  “How so?”

  “The community nearly devolved into factions because they couldn’t decide if they wanted an experienced police officer or a red-neck vigilante to lead us. How do you think we’ll look a year from now when our resources are depleted and the memories of a civilized world have all but faded into oblivion?”

  Kate wished he could be more positive. “I get what you’re saying. I suppose we need to stay focused on the long term. I’ll try to talk to Sam, see where he’s at.”

  “Good.” Gavin was winded from marching up the hill. “If he sounds like he’s open, perhaps you should reiterate the need for secrecy and remind him that the four of us are the real team. You know, what happens at the cabin, stays at the cabin.”

  “Sure, I’ll get him alone after church tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to church? After working all night?”

  “Yeah, it’s once a week. I’ll sleep afterward. Aren’t you coming?”

  Gavin sighed. “I don’t know.
That’s four hours from the time we get off shift until the time church starts.”

  “Okay, do what you want.” Kate paused to catch her breath. “What about Sam? What if he’s been brainwashed?”

  “Then we need to start caching some of our supplies—away from the cabin.”

  Kate resumed her normal speed up the trail. “That might not be a bad idea anyway, considering we almost lost it all when we were attacked. Would we tell Vicky?”

  Gavin shined his flashlight from side to side. “You decide, but I’d recommend against it. The easiest secret for a teenage girl to keep is the one she doesn’t know about.”

  “Where would we put our cache?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t given it that much thought.”

  Kate pointed her light toward a downed tree. “What about there?”

  Gavin’s beam followed hers. “Where?”

  “Right there, where the roots pulled up the earth when it fell. For one thing, it’s a nice big tree, so it’s a natural landmark. For another, that ditch behind the roots is a natural hole. We’d have less digging to do if we wanted to bury some supplies.”

  “A downed tree is also a good candidate for being cut up into firewood.”

  Kate left the trail and inspected the tree closer with her light. She kicked the soft side and the wood crumbled beneath her boot. “Not this tree. It’s basically fertilizer.”

  Gavin focused his flashlight toward the community. “Whose property is this?”

  Kate pulled out her hand-drawn map. “It looks like the Smith’s place. They’re gone and probably won’t be back.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable if we could find a similar tree on our plot. If not, maybe Pritchard’s.”

  Kate returned to the trail to continue the patrol. “Sounds like a plan. We’d have to haul the supplies for a shorter distance that way.”

  A woman’s voice echoed through the forest.

  “What was that?” Gavin asked.

  “It sounds like Mrs. Dean.” Kate stood still.

  “I think she’s calling for help.” Gavin pointed his light in the direction of the sound.