Нора Робертс - Year One

Applause thundered; cheers and whistles rang.

Arlys noted Rove just folded his arms over his chest.

“We’re going to ask everybody to conserve that power. Those of you who don’t have a washing machine in your place, Manning’s bypassed the coin-op at the Laundromat. We put a sign-up sheet in there for rotation. We’ve got detergent in inventory, for now, and Marci Wiggs is heading up the committee making soaps. Marci, why don’t you stand up, let us know how that’s coming.”

Smart, Arlys thought as the woman stood, began to speak. Touch on other basics, on cooperation.

He called out other volunteers. Candle making, clothes, firewood, animal husbandry, the gardens, the greenhouse project, community maintenance.

“Some of you might not know Lana—can you stand up, Lana? She’s been organizing the kitchen here at the Legion into a community kitchen to provide basics for those of us who can’t boil water.”

That brought out some laughter, more applause.

“She’s starting that providing tonight. Lana?”

“I’ve had a lot of help getting this started.” She rattled off the names of the cleanup and organizing crew. “We’ve got some new equipment thanks to Poe and Kim, Jonah and Aaron, and we’re going to put it to use. Dave and Mirium and I decided to christen the kitchen with the most basic, and the most satisfying. Bread.”

She picked up her basket. “A symbol of life, of hospitality, of communion. We have enough for each household to take a loaf.” She tipped the basket so the crowd could see the contents, smiled at the cheerful response. “We’ll have baskets in the vestibule. Take your share when you leave. Meanwhile, we have—”

“I’m not taking anything of hers.” Arms still crossed, Rove stared at Lana, actually curled his lip. “How do we know what she put in it? Who says she can take over the kitchen here? Next thing we know she’ll have a caldron going.”

“I’m fresh out of eye of newt,” Lana said coolly. “But I do have some starters, and some recipes printed out for anyone who wants them.”

“I’ll take Kurt’s share!” somebody called out.

Lana waited for the roll of laughter to subside. “We’ll also start on constructing a smokehouse behind the kitchen. If anyone has experience smoking meats, I’d really like to talk to you. Dave and I will be making venison sausage and bologna over the next few days. Arlys will announce in the Bulletin when it’s ready. We hope to have the kitchen open six days a week, and we’re always available for lessons for those, like Jonah, who want to learn how to boil water.”

When she sat, Max rubbed her leg under the table.

“Thanks, Lana. The woman can cook,” Jonah added. “I had some of her newt-less pasta last night. Rachel, can you give us an update on the clinic?”

She rose. “Appreciation again, to Jonah, Aaron, Kim, and Poe. We now have a fully stocked ambulance, and some solid equipment. And due to the work of the power team, the clinic will be able to run that equipment. Our over-the-counter and prescription medication stores are well stocked again. We also have a good start on the holistics, thanks to Fred, Tara, Kim, and Lana.”

Briefly, she glanced at her notes. “Jonah and I will continue to give instructions in CPR the first Wednesday evening of each month at seven, and first aid courses every Monday evening at seven for anyone who signs up. As always, the clinic is open daily at eight, and either Jonah or I will be available for medical emergencies twenty-four-seven. We now have Ray, a nurse, and Carly, a nursing student, and Justine, a healer, added to the clinic staff. We’ll work together to keep New Hope healthy.”

“Healer, my ass,” Lou Mercer shouted. “What’s she do, lay hands on you and fix your broken arm?” He snorted out a laugh, had some join him.

“You’re free to request the medical of your choice,” Rachel told him, her tone as cold as February. “Just like you’re free to sit there and be a dick. We’ll still treat your hemorrhoids.”

“Look, bitch—”

“Dr. Bitch,” she snapped back. “And, as the only doctor in the community, I’m going to tell everyone here, the traditional medication we have will eventually deplete. It will expire. Without a chemist, a pharmacist, a lab, without the means, we’ll have to depend on other types of medicine and healing, and those who have the ability and the skill to provide it. We need to live in the world we have.”

“I’ve got diabetes.” One of Rachel’s new patients rose. “And I’m not the only one with a medical issue that needs daily medication. I’m damn grateful a group of my neighbors went out and found more of what we need. And I’m damn grateful to know when there isn’t more, there’s somebody who’ll try to keep me alive and well. That’s all I have to say.”

“I think that says it all.” Rachel stepped back, sat down.

Jonah stepped back, gave the room a moment to mutter. “Anybody who doesn’t want to hear what needs to be said tonight doesn’t have to stay. Just as anybody who doesn’t like what needs to be done to build this community and keep it safe doesn’t have to stay in New Hope. We survived to get here. Surviving isn’t enough anymore, so I’m going to turn this meeting over to Lloyd.”

Lloyd crossed to the podium, opened his binder before taking cheaters out of his shirt pocket, adjusted them on his nose. He peered out over them at the audience.

“I came into New Hope on April first. April Fool’s Day was a bitch of a day. Cold rain, some sleet, a lot of wind. I came in alone, after the group I’d been traveling with for a few weeks got hit by Raiders. We got separated, and I guess I got lucky because when we were running in all directions with no plan, I fell into a gully. Knocked my head some, banged up my leg. So I lived. I don’t know about the others, because when I came to and managed to crawl out, I was alone. A lot of us have been alone since the early days of January.

“We’re not alone anymore.”

Some applauded.

“I got lucky,” he continued. “I limped away, and on that first day of April, I limped into New Hope. It was Bill Anderson on sentry duty that day, and he took me straight to the clinic, where Rachel treated my leg, gave me a bottle of water. Young Fred over there brought me an orange and a Milky Way bar. And I’m not shamed to say I cried like a baby. It was Arlys who brought me a change of clothes, and she and Katie saw to it there were blankets and some food and water in the house Chuck took me to. The house where I live today.

“I was hurt, and they tended to me. I was hungry, and they gave me food. I wasn’t naked, but by God, I was ripe and ragged, and they clothed me. They gave me shelter. They gave me what every one of us has here today. Community.”

He paused, adjusted his glasses. “Every one here has a story not so different from that. I want you to think back to it. I want you not to forget you’re lucky, because Jonah’s right. Surviving isn’t enough. When I limped into New Hope, there were thirty-one people living here. Now we’re more than three hundred.

“The group I’d been with ran, without a thought—and I was one of them—when we were attacked. We had no leader, no sense beyond our own survival. We had no plan, and no structure. New Hope already has more than that, and we’re going to build on it. We’ve already talked about some of the ways we have built on it, and plans for how we’ll go forward. Now we’re going to talk about how we keep our community safe from Raiders and those who threaten the peace from outside, as well as from those who break that peace from the inside.”

He took off the cheaters, absently polishing them on his shirtsleeve. “We’ve had some incidents, and we could call them minor in the big scheme. Fistfights, threats of violence, and physical intimidation. Our own Bryar was threatened, intimidated, and harassed by two men when she took a walk along Main Street. Little Dennis Reader had the bike Bill fixed up for him stolen off the porch of the house where he’s living. Ugly words were painted on the door of the house where Jess and Flynn and Dennis and some other children live. Our oldest resident, who we affectionately call Ma Zee and lives in the apartment across from mine, came home after working in the gardens—eighty-six, and she puts her time in—to find her place ransacked.”