by David Nees
Unbeknownst to the officials, the town was not abuzz solely about the festivities and about the prospect of a free meal. Much of the excitement was about the visiting farmers themselves. These were the people who had defeated Big Jacks’ gang two summers ago. A few survivors from the gang had drifted to Hillsboro and had managed to talk their way in by agreeing to join the city militia.
Encouraged by their new comrades, the ex-gang members had told and retold the tale of the epic battle, including Big Jacks’ execution. They had added embellishments about the ferocity of the valley defenders to make their defeat seem less embarrassing, and with each retelling the story had grown, becoming legendary in scope. Catherine’s exploits in the battle, as a deadly teenage warrior, were emphasized over and over, never failing to fascinate the listeners. Now people were excited to actually get a chance to see these people up close, especially Catherine, who had become the heroine of the story.
The arriving farmers would be met at the checkpoint on the road into the city and then escorted to the area set up for trading. Both the city and the farmers would set out their goods for inspection. After inspecting the goods and eating, the two groups would then retire to an empty store to negotiate and complete their trading.
People started streaming to the food centers by mid-morning. Food workers and reassigned city clerks did their best to get the games started. The children responded, but the adults held back, preferring to relax, enjoy the beautiful spring day, and wait for the food. The barbecues throughout the city filled the streets with a savory aroma.
As they prepared to head to the trading area, Frank explained to Joe that he would have some city officials accompany the delegation from the valley when they inspected each other’s goods.
“They’ll make a show of examining and inventorying the produce and explaining what we have to offer in exchange. Then they’ll retire to a storefront I’ve arranged to work out the exchange ratios.”
Joe nodded. He was happy to leave the PR work to Frank. Frank was the consummate politician and seemed to be enjoying all this show. Joe’s thoughts turned to more practical considerations. He knew he would have to find more goods for subsequent trades. The farmers would have an ever-present need for fuel, and he had accepted that ammunition would have to be a part of the trading, at least at this stage, if the farms out there were to survive to feed Hillsboro. Medicines, boots, and clothing were also going to be valuable. He would need to add to his stockpiles of these things. They would strengthen Hillsboro’s influence with the farms and would pave the way for eventual control of the valley.
He had heard that the farmers were bringing a sizeable amount of flour and corn meal along with some early vegetables. The flour would make a lot of bread. The townspeople had not tasted bread for over a year. It would be a treat for everyone.
The convoy came through the outer fringes of old Hillsboro. The houses stood with windows broken, doors standing open, the grass overgrown and gone wild, the shrubs growing into their natural shapes. It was a depressing sight. Everyone in the vehicles stopped talking as they looked out on the devastated scene. The mood changed from a joyful, holiday spirit to one of somber contemplation. The houses spoke of so much lost; not only lives, but society as they had known it.
When they got close to the city proper, the houses stopped at a ragged line, with only a few partial shells remaining beyond. They passed into the cleared area, a broad band in which the buildings had all been torn down. Even the trees had been cut down, leaving only the rows of foundations and basements partially filled with stagnant water. They were like grave markers on a battlefield. At the far edge of the clearing there rose up a long, irregular rubble wall built of cinder blocks, the bodies of ruined automobiles, chunks of concrete, wooden planks, painted siding, and sheets of corrugated metal, with sharp shards of steel and glass sticking out along the top. The wall swept across all the streets except the one they were on. Up ahead where the road passed through the wall, a moveable barricade had been set up.
As they neared the wall, the remaining bushes had been burned away, leaving only the bare, blackened ground. The opening was manned by a cluster of ten militiamen. The convoy pulled up to the checkpoint and stopped in a line. The militiamen were all holding rifles. From his pickup second in line, Jason watched Cameron get out of the Humvee and walk forward to the barricade.
The conversation lasted longer than Jason expected.
“How long does it take to get the gate opened?” Anne wondered out loud.
Finally Kevin walked back. He did not get back into his Humvee but came up to Jason’s window. “The guards say you have to leave all your weapons here. You can’t enter the city armed.”
“What?” Jason said. Kevin had a pained look on his face. “Did you know about this beforehand?”
“No. This didn’t come up. Just that tax thing. I didn’t see this coming.”
“I don’t like it. You can’t override them?”
“They don’t answer to me.”
Just then Tom Walsh walked up along with Clayton Jessup. “What’s going on?” Tom asked.
“The guards just told Kevin we have to leave our weapons outside the city…we can’t go in armed.”
“What the hell?” Tom exclaimed.
“Ain’t doin’ that,” Clayton said. His voice was quiet and firm.
“Anyone else you can talk with?” Jason asked. “I assume you can go in with your weapons.”
“Yeah. I’m in the army, we’re not governed by any rule like that. But regular citizens in town can’t be armed. The city had to do that to re-establish order, and it’s still in effect. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would apply to all of you.”
“You go in and find someone in charge and get them out here,” Jason said.
“Better be quick,” Tom added. “We don’t want our new friends from up north to get impatient and decide to leave. We all might just have to give them a ride back to the valley.”
“We wait…for now,” Clayton said.
Kevin turned and walked back to the gate. As he passed the Humvee Jason saw him gesture to the others to stay inside. At the barricade his firm voice carried back to the vehicles. “I’m going through to talk with someone in authority to get your orders changed. These people are to not be bothered while I’m gone. Am I clear?” The man he had spoken to nodded and the lieutenant stormed past him.
It took Kevin only minutes of fast walking to reach the barter site, but there was nobody there worth talking to, only civilians, a few minor officials and a sprinkling of watchful militia around the perimeter. He set off for City Hall, cursing the time it was taking. He hadn’t taken the Humvee because he had wanted to leave Gibbs and the others to make sure nothing crazy happened while he was gone.
He had not gone a block and a half before he saw Frank Mason walking towards him with Joe Stansky. The two men were accompanied by three guards carrying M16s. The guards looked more like Joe’s personal gang than militia, Kevin thought. “Mason, I need a word with you,” Kevin shouted. The men stopped as he approached.
“The farmers are at the checkpoint. They’ve been told they can’t bring weapons into town. They’re all armed. You have to be armed out in the countryside, especially when you’re hauling valuable goods.”
Both men looked at Kevin. Finally Frank said, “And so, what’s the problem?”
Kevin stepped closer to Frank. One of Joe’s bodyguards started forward, but Joe stopped him with a gesture. Kevin said, “The problem is they need to be allowed to take their weapons with them into town, so I need you to talk to the guards.”
“I can’t do that,” Frank replied.
“You’re the head of the Safety Committee around here,” Kevin said. Then he turned to Joe “Or maybe you run the committee. One of you can authorize what I’m asking. Don’t give me the ‘I can’t’ routine.”
Joe didn’t say anything. Frank shook his head.
“You better come to the checkpoint and tell them yo
urself. If some agreement isn’t reached, you may not have a trading session,” Kevin continued.
“Let’s see what’s going on,” Frank said. They walked quickly back to the trading area, where Frank commandeered an old Pontiac with militia markings.
Jason had gotten out of the pickup and was fighting the urge to pace. It wouldn’t help the others for him to look nervous. He walked up to the lead Humvee where Catherine was talking to Rodney Gibbs.
“Do you think there will be any trouble getting us in?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Catherine,” the sergeant replied. The two of them were leaning against the grill of the Humvee. About half the people in the convoy had disembarked and were milling uncertainly around the troop truck behind the two wagons. “The town has a lot of rules and restrictions. I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Probably should have,” Jason said. They looked around at him. “I don’t mean to sound critical, but this is a big screw up.”
“You’re not wrong. Let’s see what Kevin can accomplish,” Rodney said.
There was the sound of a vehicle’s tires crunching over debris. After a moment, Kevin came into view, followed by five men. Three carried automatic rifles. The other two wore suits and ties. The militia guards parted to let the group through.
Jason went to meet the men. “Did you work anything out?” he asked Kevin.
“Jason, this is Frank Mason. He’s the chairman of the Safety Committee. That’s the main authority in town. And this is Joe Stansky. He’s recently been appointed the Director of Resources.”
The man named Mason stuck his hand out. After a distinct pause, Stansky extended his hand as well. Jason shook hands with the two men. He looked them over. “Where’s the mayor?” he asked.
Frank Mason smiled at him. “The mayor died of a heart attack last year, and the town council decided to select a smaller group to run the city for the duration of the crisis. The Safety Committee essentially sets the rules for civil order and establishes a militia for general defense.”
Jason stared at the man. He seemed familiar…and then it came to him. “I ran into you two years ago. Before I left the area. Your goons roughed me up one day. As I remember, you told me to stay out of Hillsboro unless I turned all my supplies and weapons over to you.”
Frank’s face remained impassive as he stared back at Jason. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. A lot was going on two years ago and we were struggling to not have complete anarchy break out.” Then he smiled suddenly. “You’re Jason Richards, the guy who fought off the gang…what was that guy’s name?”
“Big Jacks,” Joe Stansky said in a flat voice. Jason could feel the big man’s gaze measuring him.
“Yeah! That was quite a feat. And now you’ve got the farms organized. Congratulations on doing such a good job. We’re happy to welcome you to Hillsboro.”
“It’s not much of a welcome when you want us to disarm just to come into town,” Jason replied.
“I told them that you regularly carry weapons. It’s a normal thing to do outside of the city,” Kevin.
A flicker of irritation crossed Frank’s face. He still smiled at Jason, but when he answered his voice carried a harder edge. “Outside of the city we don’t have a problem with you carrying weapons, but inside of the city we do. And you come under the city’s rules when you come to town.”
“Well, that won’t work for us. First of all, we can’t leave our weapons behind unsecured. They might disappear.” Jason paused and forced himself to smile back at Frank. “Second, how do we know we’ll be safe in town, being unarmed?”
He glanced around at the others. The farmers had come up in a group behind him. Sergeant Gibbs and Specialist Wilkes stood off to his left, while the two clans were gathered behind the farmers—all of the hill men had their rifles with them, though most were slung over their shoulders. They all watched attentively while giving Jason space to talk with the officials.
“We can arrange to store the weapons safely,” Frank said. “You can even inventory them to make sure you get them all back. And I can assure you, you will be safe in town. No citizen will try to harm you or your people.”
“It’s not the citizens I’m worried about, but your militia. Remember, I’ve seen it in action, how they were abusing citizens. I’m not willing to let myself or my people get on the receiving end of that.”
“That was two years ago,” Frank said. “That’s all changed. They were a bit rough around the edges back then. Things weren’t under control. Now they’re well trained and everyone knows the rules and follows them.” He spread his hands earnestly. “I control the militia and we want to do business with you. You and your group will be just fine.”
Jason looked calmly at Frank while his mind raced. He wasn’t convinced by Frank’s assurances. He could feel the eyes of the entire convoy on his back. Turning to Kevin, he was about to ask him what he thought when Tom stepped forward to stand beside him.
“Tell this SOB we don’t disarm,” Tom said in a growl. “We lost people defending ourselves and we’re not going to lie down and be told what to do. He wants to trade, he lets us in like we are.”
Just then Clayton Jessup came up to Jason and Tom. In a clear voice he announced, “I don’t give up my rifle for no one. ‘Specially city folk.”
“Who’s that?” Frank asked Kevin.
“That’s Mr. Jessup. He represents some woodsmen from further up north. They’ve come to trade with the town as well.” Kevin kept his gaze focused on Frank, and added, in a slower, more emphatic tone, “It would be nice to show him some respect and to welcome him to Hillsboro.”
Jason saw Joe Stansky’s eyes narrow. Frank ignored the suggestion. “Well, they can come in, but they don’t get any special rules.” He paused for a moment, visibly controlling his irritation with the lieutenant, then continued. “Look, I can’t give you special treatment. You’ll be safe and your weapons secure, but I can’t go around making exceptions. I start doing that and I’ll have trouble in town.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at Jason.
Tom’s face turned red. “You want food? You want something to eat? Then you let us in and treat us with respect. I don’t care what rules you set for the people in town, but you don’t dictate what we do.” He was shouting now.
Claire Nolan’s voice rang out from behind. “I lost my husband fighting for our lives! We didn’t get any help from you and we don’t want any. You asked for this trade, now let us in or we go home.”
“My pa died defending us.” Billy Turner yelled.
As the shouting increased, Jason turned and saw that the clansmen were spreading out and unslinging their rifles from their shoulders. Joe’s bodyguards tensed and brought their weapons up, as did the guards at the barricade.
“Order!” Frank shouted.
The soldiers standing behind Cameron were bringing their rifles to the ready position and looking at their lieutenant. “Oh my God,” Jason thought, “Anne and the baby. We can’t start shooting.” He raised his hands in the air. ”Quiet!” he shouted at the angry farmers. “Quiet down!”
Just then there were a series of siren whoops that none of them had heard in years, and an old Cadillac sedan with “POLICE” written on the sides pulled into view and skidded to a stop right behind the barricade. The sound caused everyone to pause. Three police officers got out of the car. Jason recognized the white-haired man who got out on the driver’s side as Charlie Cook, the chief of police.
Chief Cook adjusted his jacket and stepped through the gap with his two officers. They were all in their police uniforms, official-looking in spite of their visibly worn condition.
“What’s going on here? We got some kind of disturbance?” the police chief said in a crisp, authoritative tone.
Kevin turned to him. The lieutenant’s face remained calm, but Jason saw a hint of relief in it. “Charlie, these are the farmers we invited to town to trade. Now Frank tells me they can’t come into town with their weapons.”
Chief Cook looked thoughtful at what was obviously not news to him. He turned to Frank. Frank raised an eyebrow as if to say, what are you going to do about this? “Lieutenant, we do have an ordinance about weapons,” Cook said after a moment.
“I know, but that’s for the town people. It shouldn’t have to apply to this group.”
“I told you, we can’t make an exception,” Frank jumped in.
“I think it would be useful to hear Charlie’s view,” Kevin said sharply.
“Well, it wouldn’t look right,” Charlie said after some time. His voice now more tentative. He had not looked at Frank again. Frank was already visibly angered by Kevin’s openly expressed disagreement with his authority.
“Who’s speaking for the farmers?” Chief Cook asked.
Everyone turned to Jason. “I am,” he responded.
“So you’re not willing to abide by the town’s rules in order to come in and trade?”
“We’re not willing to give up our weapons, if that’s what you mean. We’ll abide by all other rules you’ve got set up. Maybe you can fill us in so we don’t get blindsided like this again.”
“Their weapons are important to them. Outside of the city they’re necessary for survival, both for hunting and for defense,” Kevin offered.
“Lieutenant, you’re part of the military authority here in Hillsboro, but we set the rules for our citizens and how we operate in town,” Charlie said. “How about you take control of the weapons and your men assume responsibility for the safety of the group? I’ll be responsible for our citizens…for them not harming anyone.”
