Nathan Jones - Shortage

“The food’s bad enough, but who’s going to protect us now that the Feds are gone?” Eve Anderson, the Mayor’s own wife, demanded anxiously. “Our policeman left with Ferris!”

“Good riddance, the traitor!” a man in the crowd shouted. “He helped Ferris and his goons rob his own neighbors!”

The Mayor held up his hands for quiet against the general murmur of agreement that swept over the crowd. “Easy people, easy. FETF didn’t have anything aside from their bicycle trailers to haul a load with so they left behind most of what they’ve confiscated, including our weapons and most of our ammo. We can still handle protection for ourselves. I’d recommend we set up our roadblocks once more and renew our guard and patrol rosters.”

“Why set up the roadblocks?” the same man shouted. Matt thought it was Ian Childress, Pete’s dad. “You’ll just take ’em down again the moment another government official comes and we’ll be right back to having all our stuff stolen to give to refugees!”

That got another wave of agreement from the crowd, at least until angry swearing over near Ian parted the crowd slightly. Matt saw the older man stagger as a raggedly dressed young man shoved him. “That’s my family you’re talking about!” he shouted. “FETF kept us alive when you would’ve let us starve to death on your doorstep!”

The young man stepped forward to shove Ian again, but before he could the older man recovered his balance and socked the refugee right in the nose, sending him wheeling to the ground. “You wouldn’t be starving!” Ian shouted. “And don’t pretend you’re a victim. Don’t think I don’t recognize you, kid. Even though you had the ration line to feed you I saw you stealing apples from Mrs. Harris’s tree!”

The crowd roared their agreement, and the few refugees who’d been watching FETF leave suddenly found themselves surrounded by a hostile crowd. They started to back away, looking nervous.

“People!” Anderson shouted from the front of the store, waving his arms. “This isn’t who we are! Everyone go home and give us a chance to figure things out. We don’t want violence starting the moment Ferris and his soldiers leave.”

The crowd hardly paid attention to the Mayor, turning to follow the refugees and shouting angrily for them to leave. Matt wasn’t sure whether his neighbors meant leave town or leave altogether, and he had a feeling they weren’t sure either. All he knew was that he wasn’t shouting, and neither were the Watsons. A few other families hung back, including the Tillmans, but for the most part it looked as if the town meant to relieve some of their pent up resentment on the unlucky refugees who happened to be around.

Things might have gotten ugly if a new source of shouting hadn’t drawn everyone’s attention. Matt turned with the others to see Carl Raymond pelting down Main Street from the direction of the refugee camp, wildly waving his arms.

“Razor’s coming!” he shouted again. “He’s got dozens of armed men with him!”

Pandemonium broke out in the crowd at the news. Many immediately bolted, some towards their homes and some south in the opposite direction of the refugee camp. As for Matt he stood stunned, not surprised that Razor would try something but not quite able to believe he’d act so quickly.

“Everyone into the store!” Catherine Tillman yelled, waving towards the doors. “Quick, we need to pass out the guns and prepare to defend ourselves!”

“Wait!” Anderson called frantically. “Everyone stay calm! We’ll go and talk to Razor.”

“Talk to him?” the councilwoman demanded. “Are you crazy? He’s not here to talk, he’s come for the storehouse! We need to get everyone armed to defend this place!”

The Mayor glared at her. “We don’t know that, and if we start grabbing guns we guarantee there’s going to be violence. I want to find a peaceable solution so I’m going to go see what he wants.”

Catherine shook her head. “Well I’m going to stay here and get these guns ready to use for when your plan fails.”

Not looking quite as certain, Anderson pushed through the crowd streaming for the store to head north along Main. A few people followed, although farther behind as spectators rather than support. Matt looked helplessly after the man, then towards the store. The Watsons were already headed for the doors to follow Catherine inside, but when Chauncey noticed Matt still standing there he paused. “Come on, we need you!”

“Save me a gun!” Matt answered as he pulled out his bear spray and trotted after Anderson. The man had his faults, but he couldn’t leave him to die alone. If worse came to worst he could maybe disable anyone who came after the Mayor and buy him time to escape.

Just as Carl had warned, the road leading to the refugee camp was crowded with a group of rough, raggedly dressed men stalking purposefully into town. All carried some sort of weapon, from axes to machetes to simple knives or even ugly looking heavy sticks with nails stuck through the ends. There were also a disturbing number of rifles in view. All told Matt guessed there were at least 50 people, and in front of them ambled their deceptively nondescript leader.

The sight caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Razor had gotten bolder and bolder about whatever deal he’d had with Ferris, to the point that rumors of atrocities in the refugee camp were becoming more and more common. With the administrator gone it looked as if the gang leader wanted to bring the same atrocities into Aspen Hill now that there was nothing to stop him.

Nothing but the townspeople, if they could.

To his credit Anderson strode forward to intercept the mob, holding out a hand. “That’s far enough!” he called sharply, only a slight quaver betraying his nervousness, when the refugees were about 30 feet away. “What do you want?”

Surprisingly Razor actually stopped, slouching back with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. Matt knew from personal experience that that was a bad sign, and he only hoped the Mayor did as well. “What makes you think I want anything, townie?”

Anderson straightened to his full height. “In that case go back to camp. Ferris is gone, which means we’re going back to how things were before he came. The town is closed again and we’ll be setting the roadblocks back up.”

Razor looked at the taller man in open contempt. “Fair enough,” he said, voice deceptively mild. “It’s not like we came to burn this place to the ground or anything. We just want our share of the supplies those FETF soldiers gathered, including all our stolen weapons. I’d say that’s fair, wouldn’t you?”

“Not happening,” Anderson said. “I’m Mayor, and as such Ferris left me in charge of the town and surrounding areas. Furthermore Ferris took all the remaining food with him, so there’ll be no more ration line.”

Matt wasn’t the only one who jumped a little when Razor suddenly burst into laughter. The man sounded like he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world, but somehow the expression on his face said he was only moments from sprinting for Anderson and ripping him apart with his bare hands. Even though Matt was a good twenty feet behind the Mayor with the rest of the small crowd of onlookers the reaction made him nervous.

“No more ration line,” the gang leader repeated with another guffaw straight from his belly. “You mean like before that weasel showed up, when you kept us away at gunpoint and were going to let us all starve to death on your doorstep?”

The Mayor shook his head. “The situation’s changed since then. Like it or not we’re all in this together, so we’ll do things fair.”