by Josh Hilden
“Really?” she asked and he knew that he was in for it, “I didn’t know that because, you see, I have been in Marquette with my ex-lover having dinner behind the back of my fiancée. Oh wait that was you.” Now she glared and he could feel the anger.
“I have tried to explain this to you a hundred times Amy, it was just lunch.” The argument felt stale. It was the truth that there’d been no hanky-panky but only because Ellen had said, “Not this time Davey, next time if you are still interested.”
“Maybe not but you still tried to hide it from me. And I really don’t think this is the most appropriate time to be arguing about this do you?”
“No.” he said quietly. He missed her a lot but he was pretty sure that ship had sailed for good.
“So I will ask you again David, what do you want?”
“Your support” He said it straight.
She looked genuinely surprised for a second before she responded. “Explain.”
“Arn is refusing to make any hard decisions. He prefers to wait to hear from the outside governments before he does anything. Things are getting really bad out there, and I don’t think there will be any help forthcoming.” He looked at her cautiously before continuing. “Some of us are going to try and force his hand.”
“Let me guess, one of them is Herb Hilstrand.” This time she smiled a little. Herb and Thornton Hilstrand were her maternal great uncles.
“Well yeah, also Einor Jacobson is on board with the plan. We are not trying to oust him, but we do want him to cede some of his authority to an Emergency Council.”
She bobbed her head very slowly and then said, “And you think I might be able to convince him if you three can’t.”
“He does tend to listen to you.” He offered lamely.
“You mean he wants to impress me so that he can get into my panties.” She said. She did not add “again”. Amy Waters and Arn Jacobson had been the county’s power couple at one time. But politics and a growing dissatisfaction had driven them apart five years ago.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to David.” She let out a long tired breath and then said, “I’ll talk to Arn if it looks like he’s going to fight you on this.” She finally relented.
4
White Harbor Government Center
5:05pm EST
The meeting hall was packed to overflowing. David figured that every adult in White River Township that wasn’t out hunting the Dead or at home guarding the very old and the very young was there. With a total population of less than 10 thousand David had a passing acquaintance with most of the citizens under his jurisdiction. He took the opportunity to press the flesh with the people as he walked up the aisle to take his seat in the front of the room. Mayor Arn Jacobson was already at the podium at the head of the room.
“Order people,” the Mayor said over the din, “I would like to have some order here.” He banged the small brass and wood gavel on the edge of the podium. The various discussions began to subside.
“Thank you. I know that this has been a difficult day for all of us, but I believe that we need to remain calm if we are going to deal with the growing problem afflicting us.” David wasn’t surprised that Arn was retreating farther into politician mode the worse things got. “As you all know we are in a state of crisis.”
“You fucking got that right!” Someone yelled out from the back of the room. Heads turned to see the perpetrator of the interruption. No one stepped forward to claim responsibility.
“As I was saying,” Arn continued, “This is a crisis of biblical proportions. The reports from across the state and the entire country seem to indicate that the recently deceased are truly rising up and attacking the living.”
“BULLSHIT!” A male voice yelled from the left side of the hall. David saw it was one of the Renoir brothers. They were a family of fisherman who lived on the waters of Lake Superior more than on the shore.
“It is not bull Andrew Renoir.” Arn retorted. “It has been confirmed by the government and various hospitals. The ones that are still communicating anyway.”
There was a nervous rumble at that bit of news. “I think that before I give you any more information it is important that I stress my firm belief that if we are patient the state and federal governments will get a handle on the situation and put an end to this crisis.”
David was about to rise and make his play when another voice called out from the back of the room, and this one demanded respect. “Mr. Mayor may I have the floor?” Heads snapped around at the sound of the mellow sing song accent of Herb Hilstrand.
Arn looked surprised but recovered quickly. “Of course, the chair recognizes Herbert Hilstrand. Say what’s on your mind Herb.”
“Thank you Mr. Mayor.” Herb took a deep breath into his old body and began. “You all know me and my family so I ain’t gonna bore ya with any of that old shit.”
There was a chuckle that rippled across the room and broke some of the tension.
“But I think very few of you know my niece Annie from Duluth.” A small skinny woman of perhaps forty stepped forward. She looked tired and dirty. “Annie and her kids just arrived in town, her husband Robert did not make it out of Duluth.” The woman said nothing. Her face was hard and stoic. “Annie is going to tell you her story so that we all get an idea of what has been going on outside of White River Township and the Village of White Harbor. I think most of you believe that nothing bad could happen to us here.” His hard eyes swept the room, “You might change your minds after you hear what Annie has to say.” He smiled lovingly at her then added “Then Thornton is taking her back to my house to rest.” He stepped back and all eyes turned to the woman in anticipation.
She didn’t look at anyone. Her eyes were unfocused and David would have guessed that she was seeing everything that she was saying as she spoke. She showed no emotion as she told her tale.
“I kept the kids home from school today because Bobby Jr. had a fever. Robert works third shift at the docks so he was sleeping when the news broke into the Price is Right, not that I cared I can’t stand Drew Carrey hosting it anyway. “She paused as the crowed chuckled nervously.
“The people on the news were talking about murders all over the city, and saying that some of the people were being eaten. Less than an hour after that, the news started saying that dead people were getting back up and attacking everyone else. I didn’t believe it, so I got Robert up and he watched the news reports with me. We were just watching the same footage of a reporter in New York City being attacked and killed by a little boy for the fifth time when we heard gunshots outside.
Robert went outside and talked with one of our neighbors who said one of those dead people had been walking down the street. So he shot it in the head like the news said to do. I stepped outside and could hear sirens and gunshots, and I could smell smoke … there was lots of smoke in the air in Duluth today.
Robert and I decided that we had better get out of the city so I called Uncle Herb and asked if we could come here. We packed up the minivan and hit the road. The city was a mad house. There were hundreds of those things walking the streets where we were driving. There were piles of dead bodies being burned on the sidewalks. I saw a little girl with most of her face gone eating a kitten in front of the Safe-Way.
We knew that we needed gas and that we had to stay off the interstate, so we took the old lake highway and headed east. About fifty miles from Duluth, we stopped at a gas station that looked like it had been abandoned. Robert went inside and turned on the pump and I tanked up the van.
I didn’t see the man walk out from behind the station and start walking toward me but Robert did. He ran out of the gas station and knocked the man down. He beat his head in with a crowbar. Then there was another one … and another one … and six more. Robert fought them off but they just kept coming. Then one of them bit his hand. Robert stumbled back and three more were on top of him. They tore him apart as I started the van and drove away.�
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As she finished the room was silent.
“PTSD” David whispered to himself. He had seen it in enough of his friends after the first Gulf War. His heart went out to the woman. She had lived more horror that day than most people would in five life times.
Herb and Thornton stood back up and Thornton led Annie out of the Meeting Room. Herb then walked to the front of the room, stopped at the leading edge of the spectators, and addressed Arn Jacobson. “Arn, we all know that you have been a great Mayor. Roads have been built, the dam was built and now we have our own power source and ain’t slaved to those bastards in Marquette.” There was a spontaneous if somewhat weak cheer from the assembled residents at that. The small dam and hydroelectric plant had finally allowed the Village and Township to be self-sufficient. “But I think maybe you might be in over your head. Don’t take me wrong Arn, you’re a smart man, and we all know that you’ve taken every bit of disaster training the Feds and the Staties have offered. But I think this might be out of your scope.”
Arn spoke then, “Herb, I think this might be outside of any of our scopes.”
The older man nodded somberly “True, but I think somebody with some combat experience might be better suited.”
“Like who, maybe you Herb?” He didn’t sound angry but he did sound amused.
“Well me for one, I was in Korea for two years. I walked out of the frozen hell of Chosin Reservoir with the few of my buddies that survived that march. Or maybe your brother, I think that three hitches in Vietnam might qualify him. Then there’s the Chief, he was in the Army during the Gulf War and he has had all the training that you have had plus all the training that has only been available to law enforcement.” Herb had the casual “we are all just neighbors” tone, but the crowd was beginning to respond to him as if maybe he should be the one at the podium.
“Do you want my damn job Herbert Hilstrand? Is that what you want?” Now Arn sounded angry.
“No Arn, nobody wants you run out of office or to steal your job.” Another voice said. Einor Jacobson stood up from amongst a knot of his employees and relations. “But it’s getting really bad out there and some tough decisions are going to need to be made. There are already refugees from the bigger towns and cities showing up. Do we let them stay and maybe overwhelm our resources or do we erect barricades on the roads and only let in the ones we want or none at all? Somebody needs to organize all the fighting people we have here because we are going to need to patrol and stop those things from getting into town. Food, medicine, ammunition, weapons, and emergency services are all going to have to be rationed.
And there are going to have to be people assigned to make regular searches of all buildings inside the Township lines to make sure once our border is secure that we don’t have any surprises from within.” He stopped and looked at Arn, the Mayor had gone white. He pushed forward, “Arn, all of the Township Trustees are in Marquette on that damn economic development Junket. That leaves you and the Village council as the only standing government in the area. If we are going to remain organized and effective with the goddamn dead rising up we need to maintain a government.” Einor was out of breath at this point and paused.
David Hall was about to speak when a strong feminine voice spoke up. “Mr. Mayor I move that Martial Law be declared by the community and that an Emergency Committee be formed consisting of yourself, any of the village council members that are available, Herbert Thornton, Einor Jacobson, and Chief Hall.” Amy Waters had played her hand, and the chorus of “Seconded” that erupted from the attendees told David how smart it had been to approach her.
Arn looked relieved somebody had given him a lifeline. “I will happily put this to the vote with one amendment. I want to add the name of Amy Waters to the list of Emergency Committee members.” This was seconded by even more people.
“Motion is on the floor people, how do the residents of the Village and Township of White Harbor vote, yay or nay?” There wasn’t a single nay in the room.
The motion was passed unanimously. David was relieved. Then he was more terrified than ever, as a series of more than dozen gunshots were heard in the distance. It was going to be a long night and there was a lot to be done before the sun rose again over the Upper Peninsula.
5
The Home of Arn Jacobson
11:15 pm EST
The phones didn’t work outside the immediate limits of the village. Arn was told that the lines and the relays were probably down because of the chaos and he was not happy about it. There were people that he needed to talk to as soon as possible. This was his town, these were his people, and that Troll Hall had just cut the legs out from under him.
‘And his own people had helped the son of a bitch do it!’
The only contact that they had was with the General Hart over at White River. And he would only tell them that his contact with the government was limited and that he was awaiting orders.
‘Fat lot of good that asshole nigger and his toy soldiers were.’
Arn had never been the smart one in the family. His little sister Patricia had been that. She’d ended up a Molecular Biologist at the University of California in Sacramento and was now probably one of the Risen Dead.
Arn had also never been the strong one in the family. Einor had that distinction. When their father died Einor inherited the family land and put it to work in many new and creative ways.
But Arn was the clever one in the Jacobson Family. It’d been Arn who’d convinced Einor that he could make a small fortune bootlegging corn liquor and growing marijuana out on the more remote patches of the family land. All Einor needed to do was cut his little brother in for 10 percent of the profits. He had to give it to his big brother he’d always done just that. Arn’s ideas made Einor the richest man in the county. In return Einor coughed up the cash to finance Arn’s first run at the Mayor’s seat. It’d been beneficial for the both of them.
But now Einor sided with everyone who’d always been out to get Arn. The Hilstrands had always been against him, they’d wanted the power that Arn wielded like a medieval baron. The fact that the Hilstrand family had more power and influence at their disposal than Arn Jacobson could imagine never occurred to him.
‘And now he’d been cut out of everything.’
He stalked back and forth across the room and his pudgy body jiggled slightly as he became more and more upset. He needed to get in touch with his people in Marquette. They needed to be made aware of the situation and a decision had to be made about what to do.
What nobody, not even his brother, knew was that Arn was in business with the most powerful criminals in the Upper for years. He allowed them to use the old docks in White Harbor to conduct their business. He also sold them the pot and the moonshine that was produced by his brother with Arn taking a healthy cut as the middle man.
James Cooper was the big honcho of crime in the UP and Arn considered him a friend of sorts. In a bizarre way he trusted the heavily muscled killer. After all there had been that time that he’d taken Arn to that party in Manistique and they’d had so much fun with that little whore.
Arn walked to the wall behind his desk in the den and pulled back the bookcase that concealed the safe. He dialed the combination had opened the door. Inside was the .50 Caliber revolver that James gave him. Along with 75 thousand dollars in cash that was probably only good as toilet paper now. And the encrypted satellite phone he’d bought last year just in case of emergencies.
He turned it on and dialed the only saved number. It rang three times and then was picked up.
“Who is this?” A gruff voice that had imbibed in too much pot and liquor over the years asked.
“James, its Arn.” He said. He was relieved to hear the older man’s voice.
“Arn!” He exclaimed and there was no missing the pleasure in that. “Thank the White Christ you’re still among the living little brother!”
Arn shivered with joy at that. It always made him feel good when James called him
that. They had a strange relationship. Five years earlier they’d made a deal for James and his men to move the less than legal products produced on Jacobson farms. Every time they met, Einor would never have dirtied his soul with that kind of business, they talked a little more. Then one night James had called Arn and told him that he’d been forced to kill a rival from Marquette who’d followed him out to White Harbor. He needed to know if Arn would back him if the heat came down. Arn headed out to the spot where James was and personally helped him dispose of the body. After that act trust and then real friendship grew. Arn knew that James was an evil son of a bitch, but he had learned that the 57 year old biker was also a loyal one.
