by Nathan Jones
“What's your point, Larson?” the same woman from before shouted. “That you get to decide who lives and dies?”
In spite of the heated mood of the crowd more than a few people loudly protested that accusation. Matt fought to keep his calm, although he raised his voice over the tumult.
“I do the best I can as Mayor!” he shouted. “If you all decide I'm doing a poor job, it's within your rights to remove me and select someone else, through the established process of impeachment and election. Until then I'm going to do my job. The excess food will be held by the town to aid those who need it most, with a council selecting candidates based on their need and their and their family's ability to provide for them without aid.”
Predictably, that raised another uproar, with far more approval than protest. Probably from the large percentage of the population who didn't have enough and would need aid.
Matt shouted over the noise, at this point not caring whether anyone heard him. He just wanted to get this meeting over. “The military's instructions were simple! I was instructed to give each person their share, while the excess would go to the town to be used as the leaders saw fit. None of you are being cheated or shorted! You're getting exactly what you were supposed to get! And if you really can't live with that then toss me out and vote to split it evenly. Or heck, have the majority vote to split it unevenly and watch the town fragment around you as everyone goes their own way!”
He hadn't meant to rant, but somehow during his speech the crowd had quieted down. Matt trailed off into an awkward silence as everyone stared at him.
“The military gave the surplus specifically to the town?” Grant asked from the front row.
Matt nodded. “Each person's share is their own, but the excess is to be used as the town's leaders see fit,” he repeated.
The new Aspen Hill resident made a disgusted noise. “Well why didn't you just tell us that?”
For one precarious moment Matt was on the brink of either exploding into laughter or completely losing his cool. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I probably should've,” he said as calmly as he could. “Moving on. You'll all be receiving a generous amount of food, and it may be tempting to eat more than you should. I would caution you to carefully ration it to make it last as long as possible, even beyond the six months if you think you can manage it.”
He hardened his voice. “If you irresponsibly eat through your share faster than you should, the town will not provide aid to you. I think we can all agree on that. Similarly, you all know the town's punishment for theft. Exile. No matter how desperate you might get, I would be very disappointed to hear you resort to such measures. And regardless of mitigating circumstances, the consequences will be the same.”
Surprisingly, the crowd was mostly silent now. Maybe he'd managed to talk his way through the hurricane. He continued a bit more confidently. “On the subject of theft and rationing, the town is willing to store and guard any food presented to us on behalf of its owners. We will return any food stored with us upon request. We can also help plan rationing and distribute based on that plan, for those who would like that bit of formal encouragement. There will be a small fee for the service, strictly to pay for the construction of the space and compensate those who'll be guarding it, but some might find the peace of mind worth the cost.
“Last of all, let me remind you that we just received a lot of food.” There were a few subdued chuckles at that, as people remembered they had far more reason to celebrate than complain. “What that means is it'll take us a while to determine exactly what we have and how to fairly distribute it. Please be patient until we can get it done.”
The woman from the back of the crowd stubbornly raised her voice again. “What about those of us who're starving now and can't wait for you bean counters?”
Matt had mostly managed to find his calm again. He smiled wryly. “Well it may surprise you to hear it, but the town's been doing its best to aid those in need. Mostly by giving them something useful to do besides complaining to earn their meals.” There were a few chuckles at that. “If you really can't wait a few days for your share I'd say you qualify for those charitable efforts. Come talk to me and I'll see what we can do for you.”
He fell silent, waiting for his heckler to find something else to complain about, but she didn't respond. A bit relieved, he once again looked over the crowd. “All right then. Any questions?”
There were. A lot, and not all of them particularly cooperative. Matt did his best to answer the ones he could, relying on Catherine and the town leaders for advice with some of the finer details. But mostly the mood of the crowd had settled and they seemed content to wait and let him do his job.
After about another fifteen minutes Matt called the meeting to a close so they could get back to work dealing with all the food they'd received. He awkwardly hopped down, immediately found himself mobbed by people with more questions and comments, and began making his way through the press.
Among them he passed the knot of his family who'd been watching, his mom Mona and dad Ed, as well as Terry and April each holding one of their young sons Aaron and Paul. Sam was comfortably nestled in the center of the group, and he briefly stopped to kiss her as the others congratulated him on his speech.
“I'm probably going to be pretty late tonight,” he said apologetically to his wife. “Why don't you head home and rest?”
“All right.” She hugged him tight for a moment. “Don't stay up too late or push yourself too hard. I'll see about having Aaron run over to bring you some dinner later.”
“Thanks.” Matt let the surging tide of humanity pull him away with a final wave and got back to answering questions, soothing complaints, and easing fears.
Catherine was waiting at the edge of the crowd, and as it finally dispersed she gave him a warm smile and pulled him into a hug. “You did a good job up there,” she said as she stepped back. Beside her, her husband Scott stepped in to offer a handshake.
Matt returned her smile with a rueful one as he gripped the older man's hand. “You'd be surprised. Half the time I was fighting not to lose my cool, the other half I was trying to keep my wits together well enough to string two words together coherently.”
Scott laughed. “Welcome to public speaking, especially to an unruly crowd. Nobody's as smart as they think they are, and everyone thinks they're the smartest person there. So most of them act in their own self interest and call that the smart decision, drowning out the few people who actually do have valid points to make.”
“Although that crowd was rough by any standards,” the former Mayor added.
Matt winced slightly. “I wasn't sure I was going to convince them for a few minutes there.”
“That's what being Mayor is all about,” Catherine replied. “Half the time you'll spend dealing with ignorant or deliberately unreasonable people, half the time you'll spend trying to keep your cool when people treat you like a moron or a crook, and half the time you'll spend examining yourself to make sure that you're not actually the ignorant or unreasonable one, and you haven't been acting like a moron or a crook.”
“That adds up to three halves,” Matt said with a wry smile.
The older woman nodded soberly. “Try as you might, you'll never be able to do it all. You're only human. Unfortunately the people looking up to you won't ever let you be anything less than perfect, so they'll come down twice as hard on you for every mistake, every inadequacy.”
Matt grimaced. “I'm guessing you don't want the job back, then.”
The couple laughed. “You're doing fine,” Scott said. “Whatever my wife says, not everyone in town is going to be as bad as that.”
“No, just the very vocal majority.” Catherine pulled Matt into another hug. “But you're up to the challenge either way. Again, good job.”
At the former Mayor's suggestion they started for the town hall tent to start with the daunting task of cataloguing. But they'd only gone a few steps before being flagged down by Lewis.
“Nice speech,” his friend said first off, clapping Matt on the back.
“Thanks.” Matt replied. He waited for Lewis to say more, but that seemed to be it. “Listen, I didn't get your input on this surplus before the meeting. I know it's a bit late for it, but do you have any thoughts?”
His friend shot him a thoughtful look, then glanced at Catherine and Scott. “Actually I do. There's something I've been considering for a while that didn't seem practical before. But now, with this food, it might just be.”
Matt held back a grin. Of course his friend had an idea ready. “Let's hear it.”
“Okay.” Lewis took a breath. “I think we should consider doing some recruiting.”
That was the last thing Matt had been expecting. “Seriously?” His friend nodded, and he could only shake his head in disbelief.
“I'm with Matt,” Scott said. “Even with the surplus we don't have enough to feed everyone in town, and you want to bring in more people? You gave the exact opposite advice back when the refugees showed up right after the Gulf burned, and I agree with past you. We can't afford to.”
Lewis didn't look daunted by the opposition. “I'm not sure we can afford not to.”
Matt's disbelief turned to confusion. “Okay, you're going to have to walk us through your reasoning here.”
His friend flashed a brief grin. “I was planning to. By recruiting I don't mean just snagging anyone looking for a home and inviting them in. We're living near a refugee camp filled with thousands of people, and at least some of those people have some specialized education and skills this town seriously needs to survive short term and prosper long term. I'm suggesting we search around for twenty or thirty people who could help this town most, then set up a committee to interview them and see what they have to offer us.”
Well. Matt had to agree that if they were going to take in people, better to pick out the best and brightest. But he wasn't sure that was the necessity his friend suggested. “What sort of skills are we lacking? We've done fine so far.”
“How about a trauma surgeon, for one?” Lewis asked. “We've lost people to injuries who might've survived with better care.” He caught Matt's glare and hastily added. “Terry's been doing a remarkable job, I'm not saying otherwise. But don't you think he could benefit from having someone with more specialized knowledge and experience to work with?”
“Maybe,” Catherine agreed warily. “Is it worth the extra food we'd be giving out, though?”
“Ask those who need treatment what they think,” Lewis said. He hesitated, looking almost guilty. “The town could also use an OB/GYN who specializes in childbirth complications. You know we've already lost children and mothers.”
For a brief moment blinding rage surged through Matt. Was his friend seriously preying on his worries about Sam and their baby to push for this? It took physical effort to bite back the stream of obscenities he wanted to toss Lewis's way.
He wasn't the only one who felt that way. “That's low, son,” Scott said, while Catherine glowered in disapproval.
“I don't blame you for being ticked off at me for bringing it up,” Lewis said quietly. “But you know it's true, and my motives aren't entirely selfish here. You think I don't worry about what might happen to Jane once we're ready for kids? And Mary and Linda when they get to that point? And I really do care what happens to Sam.”
That calmed Matt down a bit, but he didn't trust himself to open his mouth just yet. He nodded for his friend to continue.
“There are some problems no amount of planning and research and preparation can guarantee success in solving, unless you already have the requisite practice and skill. Only professionals can really handle them. Professionals who can be the difference between life and death for hundreds of people at the cost of food for one.”
In spite of the earlier tension his friend seemed to be winning over the Tillmans, who were nodding thoughtfully. Matt supposed there was some merit to the suggestion. “Okay,” he said, trying not to sound grudging. “I'll admit you make a lot of sense. We can run it by the other town leaders and see what they think.” He paused, then grinned wryly. “I'm guessing you've already been working up a list of skill sets to look out for?”
Lewis grinned back. “A few dozen. There are probably some I haven't thought of, though. You and the other leaders know best what we really need. Ideally if you can find people who tick more than one requirement off the list that's even better, and if they happen to have families then if whoever they bring with them also has useful skills that's better still. And of course we want to consider things like health and what resources they already have to care for themselves, for a start.”
“Fair enough,” Catherine said. “But have you considered how we're going to get in contact with these potential new community members?”
“Sort of. Chauncey's been making a lot of friends on the radio, so he might have some suggestions. We probably want to avoid word of mouth through the camp itself, unless we can trust the people we talk to to only pass the invitation on to qualified recruits.”
Scott chuckled. “You think?” he said dryly. “The last thing we want is a stampede of refugees with false hope or, even worse, false promises passed on through rumor.”
Matt shuddered. The town had already had more than its share of problems with refugees hoping for something that wasn't there. A lot of that could be blamed on the town's previous Mayor John Anderson and the City Council, who before the Gulf refineries attack had spent the emergency money FETF gave them on other things, rather than preparing the supplies for the refugees from Utah Valley the town had agreed to take in. So when all those people arrived expecting a refuge they'd found themselves turned away from the sheer pragmatism that the town couldn't help them, which had led to plenty of suffering and resentment on both sides.
Still, whoever was to blame it was a situation he wasn't eager to repeat.
“Anyway I just thought the idea was something to consider,” Lewis said, straightening. “Now, how can I help out here?”
Chapter Four
Out in the World
Another one of Lewis's road trips, and only five days after his last one. Trev would've thought his cousin had more than enough to do without grabbing his bike and riding off every few days, especially with the work he was doing building a room for him and Jane taking up every moment of his spare time.
But no, here they were again. And from the sounds of it a trip with Trent to scavenge for vehicle windows and windshields was in the works, too.
Although Trev wasn't really complaining. For one thing Lewis had been more than happy to invite Deb along this time, and for another they would be going out to the battle front along Highway 6 to gather even more spent shell casings. His cousin wanted to get his hands on as many as possible before someone else had the same idea, and Trev was glad to be part of the venture.
Although he didn't have nearly as easy a time getting full days off for this sort of thing. As it was he barely found opportunities to go out and check on the beehive Lewis had let be his thing, to make up for not having any sheep or other animals like his cousin, Jane, Matt, Rick, Alice, and even Alvin Harding now owned. Trev was relying more and more on Jim to check on it for him, and while there wasn't too much labor involved he still felt guilty putting his brother on the spot. Even if Jim seemed more than happy to be included.
The good news there at least was that the bees seemed to sense the approach of nuclear winter, and they were working overtime storing honey. He just hoped it was enough.
For this trip Lewis planned to leave early in the morning, just in case the ride took longer than expected, so Trev got up even earlier to do his morning chores. As soon as he was finished with that he made his way over to the cabin where the single mothers and children of the shelter group lived, the remaining members of the party of refugees that had come into Aspen Hill with Jane last fall.
The women had happily welcomed Deb to come live with them, which wa
s a relief because otherwise Trev wasn't sure exactly where he could've found a place for her. And while they'd expressed some concern that the brown-haired woman wasn't opening up to them, the arrangement seemed to be going well otherwise.
At his knock Deb emerged rubbing her eyes and yawning. Like him she wore a coat to ward off the early morning chill, which would become baggage to carry with them once it warmed up. Also like him she had her rifle, pistol, body armor, and pack with camping gear and enough provisions for a couple meals from her share of the supplies the soldiers had brought.
They grabbed their bikes, Deb having borrowed Matt's, and rode for the edge of town where Lewis had suggested they meet, even though they all lived right next door to each other.
Trev realized why when he saw that his cousin had invited a lot more people than just Jane and the two of them. Jim and Linda were there, too, somehow having woken up and gotten ready without him noticing while he was occupied with chores, and so was his Mary. The three were leaning on the shelter group's remaining three bicycles, looking bleary eyed but eager.
And it wasn't just his siblings and cousin. Alvin Harding and Wes Watson stood off to one side, joking with each other as they checked the old, rundown bikes they had to have borrowed from the town. With the two young men were a boy and girl in their early teens, members of one of the refugee families that had first joined the town last fall. Trev thought they might be Ben's grandkids Eve and Harry; he remembered hearing Rick mention that Wes had made friends with some of the refugee kids back when they were living at that meadow above Aspen Hill Canyon during the fight against the blockheads.
