Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

As he neared, he was forced to slow down to avoid hitting several individuals in the street. Soldiers at the gate, guns at the ready, ordered the crowd back. Most of them moved to the side of the road, but some of the men waited until the last possible moment.

As he passed through the crowd a man yelled, “Are you going to share the food? We’re hungry too.”

“We’re all hungry. How come you get to eat?”

“My children are….”

Something banged on the car and the voices rumbled into a chaotic chorus of despair.

Caden breathed a sigh of relief as he passed through the gate. He quickly parked, exited the car and slammed the door behind him. Marching across the parking lot he saw Lieutenant Brooks and Sheriff Hoover coming toward him. Caden changed direction and the three converged in the middle of the parking lot. As Caden neared his XO he glared. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did sir, but you had already left,” Brooks said. “Then I called the Sheriff.”

“I just got here a minute ago myself,” Hoover added.

“Okay,” Caden said taking a deep breath. “How did they all find out about the food?”

“What I’ve been able to figure out sir is that when the convoy went through the blockade someone told the guards about the MREs and gave them some.”

Caden shook his head in frustration. Apparently the guards had told family and friends, and word of the supplies had spread quickly through town. “I didn’t think we needed to keep it secret. I thought everyone would be happy we had food.”

Hoover chuckled. “They’re glad you have it because now they know where they can get it.”

“I plan on sharing a lot of the supply. That’s why I got as much as I could.”

“I was sure that was your idea.” Hoover gestured toward the fence, “They’re not sure, but they are hungry.”

Caden frowned in worry. “We need to distribute the food this morning. I want to do it in an orderly manner and I don’t want to issue it from the armory. Are the supplies secured?”

Brooks looked at the growing crowd. “Yes. For now. The ammo, gear, and meds you ordered to be unloaded have been locked up with our supplies. The MREs are in the mess. The rest of the food and fuel is still on the trucks in the depot.”

“Where do you want to distribute the food from?” Hoover asked.

“I’m going to let the LEPC decide that, but they need to make a quick decision.”

“LEPC?” Brooks asked.

Caden tried to remember. “Local…Emergency, ah, Planning…Council.”

“Committee, I think?” Hoover grinned. “I’m supposed to be a member of that. I’ve been so busy trying to maintain law and order I haven’t attended any meetings, but I know the members. I’ll make a few calls.”

Caden nodded and then said, “Make sure your deputies and their families get fed and bring your patrol cars up here later and we’ll fill their tanks.”

When the sheriff stepped away, Caden turned to Brooks. “I want you and Hoover to handle security for the food distribution in Hansen. I have another job I need to take care of.”

An hour later two trucks rolled out of the armory. One headed for the high school with Sheriff Hoover and several deputies escorting. The other truck proceeded to the Salvation Army church on the opposite side of town with Lieutenant Brooks and a squad of soldiers accompanying. Hoover used a bullhorn to tell the crowd where the food distribution would take place.

After the last of the hungry throng headed down the hill, four other vehicles departed. A supply truck and a fueler led by a Humvee, and followed by a dark blue SUV, made their way to the blockade on North Road. The small convoy parked on the hill overlooking the camp. Caden stepped from the car and proceeded down the hill toward the blockade. He was pleased to see the large green tent of the field hospital at the edge of the refugee camp and seeing soldiers and civilians walk back and forth across the bridge, he breathed a sigh of relief. The barricade was still in place, but clearly tensions had eased since his last visit.

As he reached the bottom of the path the squad leader came up and saluted. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Yes, sergeant, I’d like to speak with the leaders of the refugee camp.”

“Yes, sir. Come with me. The area around the med tent has become a meeting place. They should be near there or we can ask the doctor.”

With the squad leader, Caden proceeded to the bulldozer and sandbag barricade. There the sergeant ordered two more soldiers to follow them as they continued across the bridge to the field hospital.

Beyond the medical tent was a sea of cars and people. Smoke rose into the gray February sky from several fires. He recalled that this was a park, complete with a ball field. Just above the people, cars and campers he could see the top of the backstop. The grass that should have covered the area had been trampled into the cold earth until all that remained was brown dirt and mud. Those around him moved with a listlessness that reminded him of old zombie movies. The scene was complete with dirty gray clothes and blank expressions, but he knew that it was not some life sucking disease; hunger was killing these people. He scanned the crowd once again looking for a familiar face, then turned toward the tent.

Neil Young, the big man he had meet on the bridge two days earlier, stood before him. “Well Caden, have you come to see how we are doing?”

“Actually, I’m looking for you.”

Caden considered the crowd of desperate faces that encircled them. If I mention the word food here there could be a riot. “Is there any kind of formal leadership of this camp?”

“Kind of informal, but yes, me and one other.”

“I’d like to meet with both of you back on the other side of the barricade as soon as possible.”

A murmuring crowd gathered as Caden and his soldiers headed back onto the bridge and toward the barricade. When he crossed over the sandbags Caden looked back at a growing crowd around the med tent. A couple of minutes later the mob surged forward behind Neil.

This could get ugly--fast.

The soldiers on either side of him fidgeted with their weapons.

About halfway across the bridge, Neil stopped. “Everyone please listen. I have no idea what the army wants to talk with us about, but if you continue toward the barricade someone could get shot. Please wait here and I promise I’ll tell you what is going on.”

Caden sighed with relief as Neil and a woman continued toward the barrier alone.

Once on the other side of the blockade, Neil introduced Theresa and asked, “What did you need to talk about?”

“I’ve got a truck full of food and another with gasoline up on the hill.”

Their expressions brightened immediately.

“I’m going to use the food and fuel to clear this camp.”

Theresa frowned. “Who are you to decide how food gets distributed?”

Caden ignored the question. “If you stay in this camp you will die. The town cannot support any more refugees and there is only enough food in the truck for a day. Eat the food and use the gas to get to a better place, either back home or to the FEMA camp.”

“How do we know the FEMA camp will be better?” she asked.

Caden glanced over the barricade. The crowd moved forward like a slow motion mob. “I’m told that food is tightly rationed at the camp, but there is food. You’re starving to death here.”

Theresa and Neil nodded. “How do you propose to do this distribution?” he asked.

The entire squad now stood behind the sandbags with rifles ready.

After more discussion the three of them shook hands and climbed onto the treads of the dozer. Caden held up his hand, signaling for quiet. “We will distribute food and fuel from the north end of the camp.” There was an audible gasp at the mention of food and word was quickly, and loudly, relayed to those out of earshot. For many seconds Caden could not continue because of the crowd noise. Again he signaled for quiet. “We will provide one meal per person and five gallons of gas for each car with the stipulation that you leave this place. You can return home or go to the FEMA camp south of Longview.”