by Nathan Jones
Of course it was possible the refugee camp was going to pot for reasons outside of the major's control, but other camps facing similar issues seemed to be handling them better. Either Rogers had somehow had extraordinarily bad luck and attracted all the troublemakers and malcontents to his camp, as well as every supply and coordination problem imaginable, or more likely the career bureaucrat wasn't all that good at his job.
None of that information did much for Aspen Hill, though. Especially now that they were apparently on his bad side. Even worse, all of Chauncey's communications to anyone he could get in contact with confirmed that Rogers could in fact probably do as he threatened; unless they were willing to go up the military chain of command on the issue they'd have to deal with the refugee camp coordinator, and he didn't seem likely to make that easy.
What was worse, Scott and Ben had worked together to confirm something Matt already knew; that there was no way Aspen Hill could hope to take in a couple hundred mouths to feed without causing immense suffering for the town. Last winter had been crushing, losing them hundreds of people, and while the food situation was looking slightly better now they faced a nuclear winter that would last longer and be far more brutal. If Rogers did force them to take in refugees they'd be looking at a similar death toll in spite of their best efforts.
The major could talk about charity all he liked, but maybe he should spend more time considering reality.
Either way, as the leaders nervously gathered to await his arrival a week after his first visit the mood was grim. Sam had wanted to be there to give Matt her support, but with the chance things might turn violent he'd insisted she stay safe at home. Lewis, Jane, and Gutierrez were there, though, with enough of the returned volunteers mingled in with the crowd to defend everyone if the situation got nasty. He seriously hoped it wouldn't, but they'd prepared just in case.
Which was why Trev and the defenders were elsewhere.
The mood only got grimmer when the military arrived, about the same time in the morning as last week, in a convoy of half a dozen trucks. Not enough to be bringing in 220 refugees, unless they'd seriously crammed them in, but Matt doubted they were bringing more food, either. Whatever that many vehicles meant was probably bad news.
Rogers hopped out of the lead vehicle to meet the assembled crowd, and several soldiers swarmed out to cover him as if he was expecting trouble. Once again Matt stepped forward alone to meet the man, staring over his shoulder at the trucks.
“What is this, Major?” he asked warily.
The camp coordinator gave him a triumphant look. “Correcting an error. And a legitimate one, in case you were going to accuse me of being vindictive. Our records show that as of the last census your town had 803 people. However, you were given rations for 900. I've come to reclaim the surplus for those who truly need it.”
So that was the angle the man planned to take. Matt grit his teeth. Losing that food wouldn't be as disastrous as taking in the refugees, but it would still mean a lot of suffering and death. “The town currently has 866 residents.”
“As you claim,” Rogers shot back. “I prefer to go by the census.”
The one made who knew how long ago, before they'd taken in the Lincolns and the rescued prisoners who'd come back with Trev and Lewis, let alone the skilled refugees and veterans. But Matt doubted he'd have any success arguing that point when it was being used against him.
He sucked in a sharp breath, trying for patience. “So you intend to take back enough food to feed 97 people for six months, directly out of the mouths of the 63 people we've taken in since. Many of whom were veterans or volunteers who risked their lives fighting the blockheads, and were seriously wounded or crippled doing so.”
Rogers hesitated, glancing at his soldiers. They were stony-faced and maintained discipline, but Matt was sure the point he'd made wouldn't sit well with them. The soldiers he'd had an opportunity to know well were all fiercely loyal to their own, especially those who'd been wounded in combat. They were well aware that but for the grace of God . . .
But the major didn't let the argument sway him. “Actually, Mayor Larson, once we take the surplus we'll be returning with the 220 women and children you were told to prepare for.”
Behind Matt the leaders and onlooking crowd of townspeople broke into outraged cries. Matt himself could hardly believe his ears. The man was doing far worse than they'd feared, hitting them every way he could get away with.
Then disbelief faded, and for a moment fury blacked out Matt's vision. “You know you're condemning hundreds of people to die by starvation if you do this. Are you actually petty enough to cause that many deaths just to get back at a town that's done nothing wrong aside from offend your sensibilities?”
Rogers's eyes glittered, hinting at more vicious emotions than just smugness and contempt. “Don't play me, Larson. Your town's doing well, you can easily handle this.”
Lewis spoke up from the crowd. “You have a career in logistics, Major. You know that's not true.”
Rather than answering the camp coordinator simply motioned to the trucks, whose engines rumbled to life. “We'll be correcting the mistake and taking the excess food, now. You needn't cooperate by assisting us, but don't get in our way.”
Matt said nothing as the camp coordinator hopped into the passenger seat of the lead vehicle and the small convoy continued up the road into town. After exchanging looks with Lewis and the town leaders, and getting nods in return from most of them, he toggled his headset's mic.
“Trev, mobilize the defenders.”
* * * * *
Trev hadn't joined the other leaders greeting the major's convoy.
He had two dozen of his best people arrayed around the large log structure where the town's surplus was being stored. Hundreds more defenders were waiting in cabins and stick-and-mud huts all throughout the town for his signal in case he needed them. He also had some of his most accurate shooters positioned along the lower slopes to either side of the valley, to protect the town's leaders and the town itself if it came to it.
As for the townspeople, he'd advised them to hunker down in their homes for their own safety. Doubtless a few of them would peek out to watch the action, but if they chose to do that the risk was on their own heads.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly over the radio as he and his people watched the trucks approaching along the gravel path leading into town. It was too narrow to properly accommodate vehicles, but the drivers were managing the smoothest ride they could. “We'll be stepping into some serious trouble if this comes to violence.”
Matt's voice sounded cold as he answered. “You weren't here for Ferris's occupation, Trev. Not for the worst of it. I won't let anyone do that to Aspen Hill again. If we're going to have to fight for what's ours anyway, we fight now.”
Trev glanced past the approaching vehicles to the town leaders running to catch up to what was about to happen. “Then you'd better get over here quick, just in case you can talk this down from becoming a bloodbath.”
“We'll do our best. But that might be up to you.”
Great. Trev was confident his people could deal with however many men Rogers had brought, but the last thing he wanted was to shoot the brave soldiers who'd just spent months defending him and his loved ones from the enemy. Especially not if it meant enraging the thousands more just in this area alone that the military could call in.
Still, he'd been listening in on his friend's conversation with Rogers, and he agreed that they couldn't let any of what Rogers wanted happen.
“Weapons ready,” he told his people, unslinging his own rifle and holding it angled low. “But don't so much as point them at anyone unless they do it first. And for the love of all that's holy don't fire a shot until I give the order.”
At his side Deb had raised her pistol. It shook slightly in her hands. “What if they shoot first?” she whispered. “What if they shoot you, and you can't give the order?”
Trev really h
oped it wouldn't come to that. “Then defend yourselves.”
That was all he had time for before the lead truck rumbled to a stop ten feet away. Twenty soldiers immediately boiled out of all the vehicles, forming up behind the cover their trucks provided with their own weapons ready. At least they weren't pointing them at anyone either, and they didn't look particularly happy about the situation.
As for their cover, it wouldn't help them if it came to violence considering they were in the middle of hundreds of defenders hiding in the surrounding houses.
Rogers stayed in the cab of the lead vehicle, speaking through a built-in public address system. “Stand down, people of Aspen Hill. This doesn't have to turn ugly.”
Trev raised his voice loud enough that the man could hear it through the glass. “I'd say that's on you, given you're the aggressors here.”
That seemed to be all the talking the man was willing to do. He gave a terse order through the PA system, and a score of rifles reluctantly raised to point at Trev and his defenders. Trev stiffened, but before he could raise his own weapon or give the order for his people to do the same there was a shout.
Both groups turned to see the 28 veterans the town had taken in, dressed in their uniforms but unarmed, moving to put themselves between the convoy and the defenders. Even the crippled and seriously wounded were there, supported by their friends.
“What's wrong with you?” Carrie Grant, near the front of the group, shouted. The scarred, half-blind woman wasn't talking to Rogers but to the soldiers around the trucks. “You're pointing guns at the people we swore to protect!”
The soldiers exchanged guilty looks. Most had already lowered their rifles, and the few that hadn't quickly did so.
Just like that the tense atmosphere was broken, and Trev felt a surge of relief. When the veterans had offered to help earlier he'd insisted he couldn't ask it of them, but apparently they'd decided to get involved anyway. And it looked like that was just what the situation needed.
Rogers addressed the wounded and crippled men and woman, sounding angry. “You swore oaths to obey orders, but here you are siding against your brothers-in-arms and making a bad situation worse! Stand aside so we can do what we've come to do.”
“All due respect, Major, but we've been discharged from service with honors. We're all civilians, and citizens of this town.” That was Derek Withers, leaning against another veteran beside Carrie. The man had lost his right leg at the hip and wasn't properly healed enough to be putting his weight on the prosthetic he'd strapped on. It pained Trev to see him standing when every second had to be agonizing.
The soldiers who'd come with Rogers were looking distinctly uncomfortable at this point. So much so that when Rogers's voice crackled through the public address system, ordering them to usher aside the unarmed veterans and resume their firing positions, nobody moved to comply.
Into that awkward silence Matt and the other town leaders finally arrived, to Trev's relief. His friend took one look at the situation and then turned not to Rogers but to the soldiers with him, addressing his words to them.
“I have nothing but respect for all of you,” he said firmly. “You risked your lives to defend us, went through hell and watched friends die for our sake. Many of you were wounded mind and body to keep this town safe, and that's a sacrifice we can never repay.”
Matt raised his voice, every inch the Mayor. “The last thing we want is to turn our weapons on you, and we'll only do it to defend ourselves. But we can't let you take food we desperately need. It would be as good as murdering dozens or even hundreds of our friends and neighbors. Please, ask yourselves if you're in the right here, if you really want to harm those you risked your lives to defend, just to follow the orders of a corrupt bureaucrat.”
Rogers finally decided that staying safe in the cab of his truck wasn't inspiring his troops. He hopped down to face off against Matt, glaring murder. “I'm a Major in the United States Air Force!” he bellowed. “I earned my rank through hard work, sacrifice, and dedication to my country! You're nothing but liars and thieves willing to kill US soldiers over a few stale donuts!”
Matt ignored him, eyes on the soldiers. That's where Trev's eyes were, too. It definitely looked as if Rogers wasn't going to get his way here, but if the camp coordinator ordered his men to simply shove the veterans and defenders aside so they could take the food, Trev doubted either he or Matt would be able to bring themselves to order their people to open fire.
The situation would probably devolve into a fistfight, and that would be bad for Aspen Hill. Men who might balk at shooting civilians might not feel quite as squeamish about bludgeoning them down, if they felt like they weren't completely the aggressors. And in that sort of chaos a fistfight might turn into a firefight after all, especially if Rogers's men were on the losing end and felt there was no other choice.
But the major hesitated, considering what to do, and in that tense silence a young private stepped out of line and slung his rifle back over his shoulder. Expression determined, he turned to face his superior officer. “Sir, in good conscience I can't be part of this.”
“You'll do as you're told, soldier!” Rogers snarled. He motioned to two other men. “Disarm him and bind his hands. Toss him in the back of a truck.”
Those soldiers also slung their rifles, but rather than obeying they moved to stand with their comrade in arms. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, because within seconds Rogers's entire force had stood down.
An imperceptible movement rippled through the defenders, as if sheer relief carried a weight. Matt nodded to Trev, and at his gesture the defenders put their weapons away as well.
Rogers looked so pissed off Trev wouldn't have been surprised if the man grabbed his own pistol and started firing. Instead he turned to his soldiers. “We'll return to camp,” he snapped. “We can deal with this mutiny there.”
The soldiers silently hopped back in their trucks and drove off. The tension broke at that point, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The crowd quickly devolved into hugs and backslaps in a subdued but heartfelt celebration.
Trev broke away from Deb and his defenders to shake hands all around with the veterans who'd interceded on the town's behalf, personally thanking each. Carrie looked a bit embarrassed at his praise, flushing beneath her livid scars, but her shoulders were squared proudly. Soon Matt, Lewis, and most of the town's leaders had joined him, then the rest of the town, until the veterans were surrounded by a grateful crowd.
In spite of the mood of his relief Trev couldn't really get into the celebration, though. This was the sort of hollow victory that could easily lead to far bigger problems in the future. He sought out his uncle, Lewis, Matt, Catherine, and Chauncey and pulled them aside a bit.
“I don't think what happened here is going to solve many of our problems,” he said quietly. “Unless the mutiny spreads and Rogers is removed from his position, he'll either transfer or punish the soldiers who came with him today to make sure something like this doesn't happen again. And the fact that they obeyed his order to leave, and showed strict military discipline doing so, suggests that the mutiny ended once the crisis did.”
Lucas nodded. “All we accomplished here was to give him even more reason to come after us, and if he's smart we've also handed him the public perception artillery to make us look like the bad guys. An armed group of defenders chasing him out of town isn't hard to smear as a violent mob.”
Matt grimaced. “Let's get ahead of this situation. Chauncey, I want you to be on the radio 24/7 explaining the situation to anyone who'll listen.”
The retired teacher rubbed at his stump around the prosthetic Rick had carved for him. “You know I have been doing that, and it hasn't exactly made this problem go away. At best I might not be able to do more than muddy the waters enough that nobody cheers when the military comes for us.”
“We can't fight off the entire military,” Catherine warned. “It would be suicide to even try. Even if i
t was just Rogers and the men he has in his camp coming our way it would be tough to handle, especially if he's got heavy weapons or serious crowd control.”
“I wasn't finished,” Matt replied. “We need to try to go over Rogers's head, contact the highest ranking military officers still in the area and explain the situation to them. The challenge will be to make a more convincing argument than one of their own officers.”
“Again,” Chauncey insisted, “I'm not having any luck with that. The higher-ups in the military have too much on their plate to pay attention to a minor dispute, and their subordinates have no interest in going out of their way to pass a message along. I can see if any officers that the town or the volunteers worked with while fighting the blockheads are still around to speak in our favor, and of course I'll fight any misinformation Rogers tried to spread. But I can only do so much over a radio.”
“I agree.” Matt looked around at Trev and the leaders. “Which is why with your approval I want to send my dad, Lucas, Ben Thompson, and Scott Tillman to head over the mountains to Manti. They can try to get a meeting in person with whoever's in charge there and plead our case.”
Trev agreed that it was probably a good idea to send their people for a face to face, although he didn't like the thought of sending a group that distance without bringing any of his defenders along. Not that he didn't think the four men could handle themselves, as they'd more than proven they could in the past. And the choice of destinations was a good one, too; the camp just outside of Manti was where the remaining military leadership and the largest bulk of the refugees were resettling now that the blockheads were gone. Which meant it was their best hope of finding someone who could intervene on Aspen Hill's behalf.
“Include me and Lewis in the group,” he insisted. “A bit of added protection.”
