by Nathan Jones
“And me,” Deb cut in. At some point Jane had appeared at Lewis's side, managing to convey without words that she intended to come along as well.
Matt shook his head. “I picked four people because I was thinking they'd take the last of our diesel and the mule. I'd say this counts as an emergency and time is of the essence.”
Ah, that made a lot more sense. The side-by-side couldn't go fast, about 25 mph at most, but it was reasonably fuel efficient. “There's room for five, at least,” Trev said. “I'd say as leader of the defenders I qualify.”
It was Lucas who protested now. “If Rogers does try something you need to be here, ready for it. We're going to Sanpete Valley to talk, not fight, so it doesn't make sense to take anyone who could be more useful here.”
“So take me.”
That was a new voice, and they turned to see Derek Withers leaning on the shoulders of Carrie and another of the veterans. The one-legged man was pale from the strain of still standing, but his expression was determined as he continued. “It can only help your case having one of us along, and I know a few people in that camp who might help us get up the chain to Colonel Grimes.”
Grimes, eh? That was a name Trev recognized, as the man who'd been in charge of guarding Highway 6 and all the territory just north of Aspen Hill during the fight against the Gold Bloc. With any luck that meant the colonel would recognize the name of their town, too.
As for Derek . . . but Matt was already on top of that. “I'm sorry,” his friend said. “I'm not sure the diesel we have will even get the mule all the way across the mountains, let alone back home. It'll probably come to walking.”
He didn't need to say more. Derek nodded, looking resigned.
“Then I'll go,” Carrie offered. With a slightly bitter twist of her lips, or maybe that was her attempt at a smile with half her face scarred, she indicated her eyepatch. “I can at least score some sympathy points for you, and my legs work just fine.”
The town leaders exchanged unspoken looks of agreement. It would be good to have a veteran along speaking on their behalf. They'd certainly defused the situation during the face-off with Rogers.
“Five it is,” Lucas said, giving the young woman a respectful nod. “Let's get going.”
Chapter Nine
Dependent
Ed Larson knew failure.
Failure was watching in a crisis as the food disappeared, always too slow to get any before it was gone. Failure was needing to have your children warn you to store water, in preparation for when that went too. Failure was watching in helpless rage as some weaselly little bureaucrat took what little your family had left at gunpoint, smiling in smug satisfaction as he guaranteed your loved ones would starve and nothing you could do would prevent it.
Failure was relying on the generosity of a friend you never had the courage to stand up in defense of, just to survive a winter that would've been the end of you and everyone you cared about. Failure was always being one step away from volunteering to fight when armed men threatened your town, but never quite taking that step. Failure was letting yourself be talked out of taking any risks because of age, or because your son was shouldering that burden for you, or for any of a dozen other feeble excuses.
Failure was watching your son become a respected leader, and knowing he'd gotten none of those qualities from you.
The worst part was that nobody seemed to blame Ed for his failures. As if they didn't expect any better from him. As if they knew that when the time came to count on someone, they could count him out.
And now here he was, watching as another mealy-mouthed bureaucrat tried to destroy his town. Only if there was one thing Ed knew, it was that those who didn't learn from history were doomed to repeat it. He didn't really shoot all that well, didn't have the courage to join others in the fight, but he could do this. He could potentially put himself in harm's way trying to talk to someone who might be able to stop this madness.
He knew all about failure, but he couldn't afford to fail here. Brave, skilled, and well equipped as his town's defenders were, there were some things they couldn't handle.
The group's fears about not having enough fuel to reach the refugee camp outside of Manti proved unfounded, largely thanks to Lucas's knowledge of the backroads branching off from Skyline Drive that took them by the quickest route, right down through Manti canyon behind the city itself. Every town along either side of the Manti-La Sal mountains seemed to have a canyon and road like that, which had definitely helped the military get around behind the lines during the fight against the blockheads.
Of course, all those roads had been demolished to prevent the enemy from having easy access to the mountains. In this case the military had cleared the way again to facilitate the mass exodus of refugees down into Sanpete County, and for that same reason the refugee camp around the burned out hulk of Manti began almost as soon as the canyon ended.
That camp was like nothing Ed had ever seen before. Admittedly, his only other experiences were the refugees who'd ended up outside Aspen Hill trying to get in, and Rogers's camp just west of new Aspen Hill where all their current problems were coming from.
He'd heard Matt, April, and Terry describe the Antelope Island camp in all its soul-crushing glory, and even little Aaron had described it as only a six year old can. “It was really really big! There was a big fence and we couldn't go close to it or soldiers would yell at us. It smelled bad. Mommy had to hold my hand whenever we went to eat or go potty because there were lots of people everywhere. People shouted real loud when I was trying to sleep.”
His grandson's assessment was about on the money for this place, too. The population of a fair sized city lived here, not tucked away in several-storey apartment buildings but sprawled along dirt lanes in ragged tents or, far more rarely, crude structures made from whatever building materials could be found. The dust kicked up by so many feet made a constant haze over the area, and the smell of the nearest latrine or refuse pit hit them before they'd gotten within a hundred feet of the perimeter, carried on a stray breeze.
There were no guards, he noticed. The closest thing he saw was a patrol heading out past their mule, as well as a few teams of soldiers, probably MPs, making their way between rows of tents keeping the peace.
Their side-by-side wasn't the only vehicle around, but it definitely drew more than its fair share of attention. Since it wasn't obviously military, and none of them were in uniform, they stood out in the crowd. A lot of that attention was focused on Carrie, whose eyepatch didn't do much to hide the scars that marred an otherwise very lovely face. The young woman was obviously uncomfortable and self-conscious at the stares, but she did her best to put up a stoic front as Lucas drove them through the camp towards the military section, closest to the burned ruins of the county seat.
It was a stark contrast to the refugee camp, well organized and laid out along newly laid gravel or pre-existing paved roads, which ran between straight rows of tents and a few permanent structures, either repurposed shipping containers or large buildings made of sheet metal. It was surrounded by a simple chain-link fence topped by a roll of concertina wire, with light but sturdy gates for every road. Measures obviously meant to discourage trespassing and potential theft.
They finally encountered guards at the gate they made for, and Ed was doubly glad they still had fuel for the mule at that point; in a vehicle the guards were a lot more receptive than if they'd just walked up to the gate. After a few questions they were allowed to drive through, and a corporal was sent to report their presence and see how the higher-ups wanted to handle their visit.
Of course, two soldiers were assigned to watch them in the meantime, and he had a feeling leaving their seats in the side-by-side would provoke a less than friendly response. Still, anything that boosted their image when it came time to plead Aspen Hill's case could only be a good thing.
From what Chauncey and the veterans had told them during the brief time they'd had while preparing to leave, Colo
nel Grimes was in charge of the camp and nominally in charge of the entire military remaining in this area, although he had frequent contact with Generals Lassiter and Erikson about coordination and major issues. He was definitely the person to go to about resolving the town's problem with Rogers, if he could be persuaded to intervene.
Then again, it would probably be hard to get a meeting with a man dealing with the logistics of hundreds of thousands of refugees and thousands of troops, as well as guarding the borders of the limited but expanding territory the US held around the Rocky Mountains.
At least their position was fairly simple and straightforward. When various noncoms and junior officers came around to ask the purpose of their visit, Lucas could explain in just a few words that their town was having a serious dispute with the coordinator of the nearby refugee camp, and they needed someone to intervene and arbitrate.
It was the sort of urgent but low priority situation that guaranteed they'd eventually get somewhere, if they were patient. So it was a pleasant surprise when after only an hour or so a lieutenant who identified himself as Colonel Grimes's aide invited the Aspen Hill delegation to come with him.
The junior officer led them to a newly constructed building, plain but relatively large and well made, that served as the military headquarters. It was a beehive of activity as senior officers and their staff coordinated the management and defense of the entire area and hundreds of thousands of people.
They were led through a few main rooms full of logistics personnel and into a waiting room outside an office, where the aide had them wait a few minutes before a word from the far door had him ushering them on through.
The office beyond was small and spare, full of bookshelves nearly overflowing with hastily but neatly filed documents. Aside from a stowed away cot in one corner and a few framed pictures on the desk stacked high with pending reports, the most personal items in the room were the colonel's combat gear stowed near the desk where it could be quickly retrieved, and an assortment of crowd control, personal defense, and standard combat weapons ready for use.
Grimes himself fit his office well. His uniform was surprisingly clean under the circumstances, and he was clean-shaven with his silver hair trimmed short. He was one of the tallest people in a room full of tall men, with the solid build of someone who didn't spend all his time behind a desk. Even without the rank insignia on his uniform he would command attention, and Ed noticed Carrie start to salute as a conditioned response and then freeze and sheepishly lower her hand.
Lucas took the lead in introducing the group as the senior officer shook hands all around. “Aspen Hill's defenders held the area on the eastern front just south of the area you were holding along Highway 6, Colonel,” he said to conclude. “We know you by reputation and we've met some of your men in the field, but none of us have had the honor of meeting you in person.”
That seemed to remind Grimes of why they were here. “Yes, I was in your neck of the woods,” he said, sounding weary as he dropped into his seat behind the battered desk. His voice hardened. “But I've got to warn you that most of what I've heard about your town, little as that's been, isn't great.”
Ed fought to keep his expression neutral. So Rogers had been poisoning the well against them. Figured.
“Would you allow us to give our side of the situation?” Scott asked politely. He looked a bit irked that they hadn't been offered seats, even though there were enough to accommodate them. Most of that worry was probably for Lucas, since the man's mostly-healed leg still pained him even two months after breaking it in the blockhead ambush in Aspen Hill Canyon.
Lucas seemed to be holding up all right, at least enough not to make an issue of it as far as Ed was concerned. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.
“Of course I will, that's why you're in my office,” Grimes said impatiently. “But I'll warn you that Major Rogers seems to have a solid case. As I see it he's acted from the best intentions. He wanted you to take in women and children. He demanded you return excess food you were given in error so it could be distributed to those who desperately need it. The town's own intentions don't seem so honorable.”
Ed heard a few quiet noises of disbelief from his friends. He himself was doing his best to control his temper. But he kept quiet and let Lucas defend their position.
“Begging your pardon, Colonel, but to clear up misrepresentations about the town's intentions is the reason we're here. As for Rogers's own, it's wise to look at results, not what he intended. Do you believe it's possible for a man with even the best intentions to produce evil outcomes?”
Grimes hesitated. “As it stands I've only heard Rogers's side of this issue, which hasn't seemed intended to paint you in a very good light,” he admitted. He glanced down at the reports on his desk, then sighed and pushed them away, leaning back. “My time is limited and I'd like you to be brief, but take as much time as you feel you need. I'll hear you out.”
After a glance at the others to confirm that the ball was still in his court, Lucas took a breath and started from the beginning. For this issue that was with Corporal Bryant delivering food to the town and requesting they take in veterans, and stressing that someone in the military chain of command deliberately saw to it they received a surplus, perhaps in gratitude for their contributions fighting the blockheads.
He also briefly outlined the reasoning behind the town recruiting refugees with skills they needed, and allowing in families as well. Finally he gave a thorough rundown of their encounters with Rogers, including honestly admitting that the town had been willing to fight to prevent the given surplus from being taken back.
To his credit Grimes listened patiently the entire way through, only interrupting a few times to ask for clarification or further details. One such was near the beginning. “You say you willingly took in wounded and crippled soldiers? Can you confirm this?”
Ed was glad they'd brought Carrie along then. The scarred young woman immediately spoke up. “I'm one of those they took in, Colonel,” she said, face raised as if to highlight her eyepatch and scars. “I came with 27 others, and Aspen Hill greeted us with incredible hospitality and kindness. Just as importantly, they didn't treat us like dead weight and gave us the chance to immediately pitch in and help out as best we were able given our infirmities, as full members of the community.”
The colonel gave her a respectful nod. “I appreciate the sacrifice all of you made, and I'm glad you ended up in good circumstances. The fact that these people took you in is a strong point in their favor.” He nodded to Lucas to continue.
Ed thought his old friend did a good job of honestly laying out the facts. When Lucas was done he finished quietly but firmly. “We're proud of what we've created in Aspen Hill. We don't want to lose it.”
“And what have you created?” Grimes asked, leaning forward. “What is your town's vision of an ideal society?”
Lucas paused in thought. “An ideal society is impossible in an imperfect world,” he admitted. “But if we want to get as close as we can, it has to start with everyone honestly taking responsibility for their own actions and wellbeing. No entitlement, no distorted view of reality. A place where everyone works hard to improve themselves and the community, and are allowed to do so without unnecessary intervention, is bound to prosper. And those who've lifted themselves up will then be free to extend a hand to those who need it.”
“A hand you refused to extend to the refugees Major Rogers tried to send your way,” the colonel pointed out.
“Forced handouts aren't good for anyone involved,” Scott said, obviously trying to keep his temper. “Taking from one group at gunpoint to give to another who've done nothing to earn it, with zero expectations placed on them to do anything improve their situation, is going to destroy any system sooner or later.”
Lucas cut in smoothly. “As I said, you have to lift yourself up first before you can be of any help to someone else. Our town is still struggling to lift ourselves, and a
ny help we can spare has to go to those who are worst off in our own community. Rogers wants to chuck a boulder on our backs and sit back to watch it crush us.”
Grimes leaned back again, staring at the ceiling as he considered. “So, basically, your town is barely on the verge of making it, and according to you Major Rogers put you in a position where instead you'd fail. At which point you'd be in just as bad a position as the refugees he wanted you to help, and in need of aid yourselves. Which helps no one.”
The Aspen Hill representatives nodded their agreement of his assessment. “I was originally part of a group of refugees that came to Aspen Hill,” Ben said. “I understand the situation very well from both sides of it. And with that perspective I have to ask: wouldn't you rather have a town that's able to fend for itself and survive the winter and whatever comes next, without needing help from you?”
Grimes closed his eyes. “28 wounded and crippled veterans?” he verified.
“And 31 people from the refugee camp, including families,” Lucas confirmed. “An influx of newcomers that that makes up a comparatively small but significant percentage of the town's total population. It's already a tremendous strain on our infrastructure, even though we were careful to ensure that the people we accepted in could be of use to the town. Rogers might not like the fact that we picked the best people available, but there was no other way we could reasonably do it.”
The colonel abruptly turned to Ed, making him jump slightly in surprise. “You've been quiet since you got here,” he snapped. “Let's hear it from you.”
Swallowing, Ed nodded gamely, although he could've done without being put on the spot like this. “My friends have explained the situation clearly and honestly,” he said, glad his voice came out steady. “I don't have much to add, aside from a simple request. If you can't decide who's correct in this dispute then come and look at the situation with your own eyes. We're in the right and we've told the honest truth, so we can invite you to our town with complete confidence.”
