Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

The other heads stood cloistered around the three of them; Johnny and Doc. None of them knew where Ned happened to be, but his lack was no cause for alarm; he shunned large gatherings as a general rule and, given that his condition seemed to border on debilitating, they liked to leave him be in these situations if there was not some great need for his presence.

There was a great deal of muttering out in that field of torches and somber faces, and Elton disliked that as well. He was a man who knew how to appreciate silence, and it seemed to him that there was always some undefinable critical mass a crowd must inevitably reach that spelled certain doom for a companionable absence of sound. The first clusters of people who’d filed in did so as if they were entering a church, communicating in whispers, nods, and hand gestures. Some of them had even brought along folding chairs, which at first glance gave the gathering a homey, picnic vibe, except for the fact that Elton realized they were most likely carried out for any too weak to stand for long periods. But they’d been blessedly quiet when they first came out there, and that had been good.

Then the crowd began to bloat as more and more arrived—word of the announcement having spread as they knew it must—and stretched out over the field in a winding, serpentine tail owing to their need to avoid the worst of the mud wallows left over from the last rainfall. At some point somebody struck up a conversation and those standing close by took encouragement from this development, striking up discussions of their own. The murmur spread from this point of origin like a communicable disease until those engaged in speech were forced to compete with each other in volume or remain unheard. An organic feedback loop developed, and the volume rose at a steady climb until finally, the peaceful night air shuddered under the clangor of indecipherable, cackling chatter.

They made Elton tired. He glanced at Danielle, who tried to smile back at him but the expression just ended up looking like a tooth-exposed grimace and squeezed his hand. He raised the other high over his head and called, “Let’s get this moving, now!”

Only a handful of people up front actually heard him, but that was enough. They dropped out of their own little island of chatter, turned to face the gathering, and waved their hands as well, calling for quiet. And then, irresistible as the preceding wave of noise, silence spread over the gathering under a barrage of shushing and hisses. It was a process of some twenty or thirty seconds to complete, but when it was finished, the only remaining noises were the crackling of the torches and the easy trickle of Flat Creek as it snaked around them. The sounds of the night creatures had ceased some time ago; the appearance of these oafish humans having served as an insult most vile, inciting the small, skittering animals of the land to places more removed and less infested.

“Wanted to thank everyone that could make it out,” Elton began. He paused a moment, then cursed himself angrily for doing so.

What the hell were they going to say? You’re welcome, Elton? Moron…

He pressed on. “Everyone knows about the recent dust-up in Lower Jackson, so… we’ll have that out of the way to start, alright? I’m sure there’s been rumors swirling around over that, and who did what, and who’s to blame, and who’s the bastard behind it, so I guess the first thing I outta do is put those rumors down. The main point, really, is that it wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

A bout of muttering sparked off from this pronouncement like a venereal flare-up and Elton began to shout over the noise to maintain whatever control he might flatter himself he possessed.

“It wasn’t a theft or a drunken argument! What it really came down to was that folks were just hungry. They were tired an irritable, got into an argument, and that snowballed from there.”

“How can you say it wasn’t anybody’s fault?” a woman standing a few rows back shouted. “It was somebody’s idea to come all the way out here!”

“Who’s that out there?” Elton asked. “Spread out; I wanna see who that is.”

People in the crowd stepped aside, and Elton squinted against the torchlight to place the speaker.

“Ryan, is that you? Okay. Well, yes, it was someone’s idea to come out here, that’s right. And you followed, didn’t you?” He waited expectantly for an answer, but none came. “We all followed. And let’s not kid ourselves; the food situation back in Colorado wasn’t so great either. We had this problem coming our way a while. It was gonna catch up with us in one place or the next, but it sure was coming. Let’s not forget: the people we all agreed ought to be in charge ultimately decided to make a play for Wyoming, right? And they made their cases to us, and it sounded good, and we all went along. Didn’t we? I sure voted yes on it.”

He looked over the faces speckled through the crowd. Many of them wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Elton raised his hand into the air again and said, “How many of you can honestly say you resisted coming here? Show of hands. How many know you even have a friend that heard you say as much? Let’s don’t all try to act now like the food running out is any great surprise.”

“ Careful, big boy… ” he thought. “ Nice and careful. They need a wake-up but… probably don’t wanna smack ’em upside the head. ”

He waited a few seconds longer to see if anyone would challenge the point, and when they didn’t, he said, “Alright, then. We’re all in the jackpot together, now, aren’t we? That’s why we’re all out here now. I wanted to tell you what we’re doing to deal with it.”

“Someone’s gonna teach the Gunner crews to plant a fuckin’ carrot from time to time?” someone in the crowd shouted. Some people scoffed at this, and there were a few shouts for whoever it was that spoke to shut his mouth… but there were enough nods and agreeable rumblings to accompany the sentiment as well.

“People! People!” shouted Elton. He’d raised both hands over his head and waved at them like he was trying to flag down a passing vehicle for a ride. “Whoever the hell that was out there, did you want to hear the plan or just run your goddamned mouth?”

The soft press of Danielle’s hand upon his shoulder brought him back to his senses. He sighed and gave himself a moment to calm down.

Careful, boy. You just be oh-so-careful…

“Now!” Elton continued. “Some of you know that Clay, Pap, and a selection of security have been absent lately. That plays into the current situation. They’ve gone into the mountains to… to meet with the people up there. They’re talking now, okay? Where they weren’t talking before, they’re doing it now. Clay sent one of the boys back down here just to tell us so. And listen, folks: there’s greenhouses up there. They’re growing food.”

If he didn’t have their undivided attention before he sure had it now.

“Well, how much is up there?” a woman in the crowd asked.

“Can’t say,” Elton responded. “Esparza said they had four greenhouses running up there with all sorts of veggies, but he didn’t say how big those greenhouses were. So we’re, uh, we’re gonna all have to wait and see on that score, okay?”

“Why hasn’t any of it been brought down!”

Several shouts of approval followed this and Elton sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling as if he was hanging on to the situation by the edges of his fingernails.

“Hang on a minute, now! Just hang on! They’re working that out as we speak. That’s why Clay’s still up there with the boys, alright? They’re working out a deal right now. And maybe… just maybe… well…”