Nathan Jones - Shortage

An angry roar of protest rose from the crowd and she shouted over it. “I’m not talking about food! I’m talking about all the other ways we could have helped them but didn’t because we were jealous of our food and thought giving them anything meant we’d have to give them everything.”

Catherine pointed back at the storehouse. “Well now we don’t have any food either. We’re in the same desperate plight as the refugees. It’s time to forget everything that’s happened and do things a new way, go forward instead of looking back.”

“I won’t share any more food,” Chauncey shouted from his place at the front of the crowd. “And after Ferris I’m not about to let the town take anything from me at gunpoint, either. If you want to rob me in the name of the public good you’d better be ready to shoot me and have one less mouth to feed.”

This spurred another rumble of agreement. “No!” the new Mayor shouted, sounding frustrated. “That’s not what I mean at all and you know it. In fact, just to prove that I’m proposing we implement two new resolutions effective immediately. First and foremost no more theft, not by individuals and not by any authority, official or unofficial. I propose Aspen Hill dedicate itself to protecting the personal property of all its citizens with no exceptions. Any theft will be punishable by exile. I want the town to work together to survive, but ultimately it’s up to each and every one one of us to see to our own needs and no one has the right to prevent us in that. Charity is one thing, but now that Ferris is gone that charity will be completely voluntary, each person’s own decision to make and with no stigma if they keep what they have.”

The crowd quieted. There were no calls of agreement for Catherine’s proposal, but at the same time the dissent was dying down. She didn’t look especially pleased by the lukewarm response but she stoically continued. “Second, we crack down on crime. Hard. Ferris let Razor and those like him commit atrocities while he looked the other way, but we won’t. We’ll do our best to follow our country’s best tradition of fair and unbiased justice, but since we can’t afford to care for prisoners that leaves us with two options: for lesser crimes we can think of some useful punishment, but for major crimes the penalty must be either death or exile.”

This finally drew some approving shouts from the crowd, although from the way the new Mayor was shaking her head she didn’t seem to like where the townspeople’s thoughts were going. “As I’ve said theft will result in exile, as will unprovoked violence and a host of similar crimes. The death penalty is far more serious, and we’ll have to think hard about what crimes are deserving of it and of each individual case that requires it. But I think it’s safe to suggest that we should put any members of Razor’s gang we capture on trial with a sentence of execution if they’re found guilty, not just for the sake of justice but for the safety of the town.”

Matt found himself nodding, and over where Sam was helping Carl Raymond with a drink of water she was nodding as well. In truth it was almost a relief to have Catherine speaking reason after all of Ferris’s insanity.

The new Mayor took a deep breath. “Now I’m going to suggest something that will solve many of our problems, but will require a lot of work and cooperation and above all rethinking a lot of our biases. I’m certain you’re not going to like my idea at first, but hear me out.”

Catherine was right, the townspeople didn’t like her suggestion. Didn’t like it at all.

But they heard her out, and after over an hour of heated debate and more than a little shouting, along with some people leaving in a huff, most of the town agreed to go along with it. Now close to a hundred residents of Aspen Hill were making their way towards the refugee camp, most of them armed.

Matt limped at the head of the group beside Catherine, leg sutured and properly bandaged by a frazzled Terry who clearly hadn’t been ready to go from interning as a surgeon in a clean and orderly hospital to what basically amounted to battlefield triage. Sam walked at his side to offer a shoulder when he stumbled, but mostly so she could stay close to him.

He was surprised to find that he’d become the town hero as word spread of his part in the attack. Not only had he broken through the attackers at the back door of the storehouse in his nearly suicidal charge and given the townspeople a way out so they could take the fight to Razor’s thugs and retake their town, but he’d been the one to kill Razor himself and effectively end the fight.

Matt was embarrassed by the attention, especially since he felt like he hadn’t really set out to do any of what he’d done. He’d just been responding to the situation as best he could. And every time he looked at Sam’s bruised face he was reminded that in spite of everything else he’d failed to protect her.

She didn’t seem to see it that way, though. When he looked into her eyes there was no blame there, only love and pride. His gratitude that she was in his life was compounded by his gratitude that she was still here with him after the terrifying afternoon they’d had.

When the townspeople reached the camp they found the refugees in a panic. Obviously they’d seen them coming up Main, the same way the people of Aspen Hill had watched Razor coming from the camp, and assumed they were there for the same thing. Many were outright fleeing, while others ducked behind whatever cover they could find clutching rocks, sticks, or other makeshift weapons. Matt could hear children crying and women screaming.

Catherine hurried ahead of the group to try to deal with the panic. “We’re not here to fight!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, holding out empty hands. “We’re just here to talk! Nobody will be harmed.”

Her reassurances didn’t seem to do much to help, but the camp quieted down to tense silence as the townspeople got close enough to be in range if the refugees started hurling rocks, although thankfully no one did. With some help the new Mayor found a table to stand on and climbed atop it.

“Razor’s dead,” she said first thing. “He tried to attack the town and failed. The men who followed him are either dead, captured, or have run away.”

The tenseness in the camp ratcheted up a notch. Matt wondered how many of these people had known Razor was going to attack the town, or for that matter had approved. And once again he had his doubts about whether Catherine’s idea was prudent.

“The roadblock is going back up,” she continued firmly. This elicited an angry roar from the refugees, along with hurled insults and obscenities. Catherine raised her hands for quiet but didn’t receive it, so she raised her voice instead. “The roadblock is going up, but all of you are going to be inside it with us!”

The angry shouts faded to confusion, and standing behind and a bit to the side of the table Matt sucked in a nervous breath.

That was the new Mayor’s solution. The surest way to have lasting peace with the refugees and end the trouble in the camp was to invite them into town as citizens. Since Ferris had taken all the food the original reason for keeping them out was gone, and if things continued as they were nobody would be able to focus on surviving the winter because they’d be too busy suspiciously watching each other or even fighting. They needed to cooperate, which required a show of trust.

That was the idea, at least. Matt had no idea if it would work in practice.

“We can’t feed you,” Catherine continued firmly. “We can’t feed ourselves either. Ferris left the storehouse empty and that’s the plain truth. But we’ve decided to move our people out of enough houses for you to all have shelter for the winter. We’re also willing to lend you firearms and ammo, provided you swear on a Bible to use them for the defense of the town. We’ll allow you to send men along on our hunting parties and forage for food on any Aspen Hill public land, and keep whatever food you find or hunt, aside from a portion of the meat going to the town for the rent of the rifles and ammo.”