Nathan Jones - Shortage

“With townies?” Ben scowled slightly. “We’re not too fond of you, I can tell you that much. But I can also tell you that Razor set the bar pretty low when it came to our treatment. Give us time and a little kindness and we’ll come around eventually.”

Matt thought giving up dozens of houses was fairly kind, but he knew what the man meant. “Hopefully we can talk again, Ben, but at the moment I’m having trouble just staying on my feet.”

“I’m not surprised. Most people Razor got to with that shaver of his didn’t do much walking afterwards.” Ben shook his hand again, and Matt continued on to where Catherine was speaking to a huddle of townspeople and refugees, sorting out housing arrangements.

To his surprise when he approached the new Mayor she excused herself and pulled him aside, out of earshot of everyone else in the storehouse. “I haven’t seen Ed for almost a week. Did something happen to him?”

Matt hesitated. “He went to look for food.”

Catherine smiled grimly. “Now that’s a cagey answer if ever I’ve heard one. Didn’t you hear me promise the town everyone’s property will be protected? There’s no need to be fearful or suspicious anymore, so wherever he is you can tell me. I won’t give away your secrets or try to take what’s yours.”

He supposed that was true, although he wasn’t nearly as trusting of everyone else. Especially when the refugees who’d been thieving from residents of Aspen Hill just yesterday were now living next door. Still, it was Catherine he was talking to. “Trev had a cache 50 miles north of town,” he whispered. “He gifted it to my family when he and Lewis headed out.”

“Is that why you didn’t use the ration line?” she asked, eyes widening in understanding.

Matt hesitated. “Yes and no. We haven’t managed to get any of it yet and have just been doing our best to get by. But now we’re out of food and have been since Ferris took what little we had, and since we couldn’t go through the ration line our situation’s even worse. Dad felt responsible for that so he’s gone off on his own to collect as much as he can. That was 5 days ago, though, and I’m worried about whether he can make the trip. Especially with Razor’s men out there.”

“I understand.” The older woman pulled him into a sincere hug. “He’ll be in our prayers, and I’ll ask the patrols to keep an eye out for him.” She must have felt him stiffen in alarm. “ Without letting them know anything else,” she promised hastily.

Matt pulled away. “Thank you.” He started to turn to leave but paused when Catherine rested a hand on his arm.

“One more thing. I want you to take over for Officer Turner leading the town’s defenses.”

Matt’s jaw dropped in shock. “What?”

“I’m not joking, Matt. You’re the town hero and you showed us today you have what it takes to defend us.”

“But I’m injured,” he protested. “And anyway I need to take care of my family. Not to mention I have no idea how Turner organized everything or how to do any of it myself.”

Catherine gave him a weary smile. “Nobody’s expecting you to be perfect overnight. We’ll muddle by until you’re healed enough to get started, and you’ll have good people helping you every step of the way. I think it will make a lot of people in town feel safer knowing the man who killed Razor is defending them.”

“The only reason he didn’t shoot me in the head is because he ran out of bullets,” Matt argued. “Besides, wouldn’t Scott be better for the job? Or Tam? Or Chauncey, or half a dozen other people I could name off the top of my head.”

The new Mayor patted his arm again. “Think about it, at least.” Her expression suddenly darkened, becoming reluctant and almost frightened. “But if you’re well enough tomorrow we need to prepare a firing squad for the prisoners, as well as organize a mass grave for Razor’s men and proper funerals for all the townspeople who died. I’d appreciate any help you could offer.”

Matt could understand her revulsion. He’d killed men today to defend himself, but an execution was something else entirely. He wasn’t sure he could do it. “So the firing squad is going to happen?”

“We’ll have a trial, as any lawful town would, but I think we both know what the outcome will be.” She sighed. “What are the alternatives? Keep them in prison and feed them when decent law abiding citizens are starving to death, or exile them and watch them prey on other innocents out in the world the same way they did to us? I’d rather have their deaths on my head than the deaths of any innocents they might harm.”

“What if they’re not all murderers?” Matt asked.

Catherine held up a hand. “Don’t!” she said fiercely. “Remember the people who died today, and what happened to some of those who didn’t. These men willingly went along with all of it. It’s going to be hard enough to do what I need to do tomorrow without doubting myself, so don’t put any more weight on my shoulders.”

Her shoulders. “Will you be the judge?”

The older woman suddenly looked too weary to stand. “No,” she said quietly. “I’ll be the executioner who upholds whatever ruling the judge decides on. Is that any better?”

Matt suddenly felt as if all the weariness he could see in Catherine had settled on him as well. He hated the entire business, but at the same time he wasn’t sure he even wanted to press the issue. “Good night, Mayor.”

It was impossible to sleep when Matt got home with his mom and nephews. Every time he tried he’d come awake to the sound of phantom gunshots, his heart hammering in his throat. Once he even dreamed up Razor leaning over him to slit his throat, but it was only his mom draping a blanket over him. He’d fallen asleep on the couch with his .40 next to him, ready to shoot anyone who tried to force their way through the broken front door that he’d barricaded with a dresser.

After the scare with his mom he thought better of that and decided the chances were higher of accidentally shooting a family member in trigger-happy paranoia, so he stuffed the pistol under a couch cushion and determined that he’d well and truly identify an attacker before going for it. It might get him killed, but better that than the alternative in his current state.

He lay in the dark for what seemed like an eternity before the back door finally opened and he heard the soft murmur of women’s voices. April and Sam came into the living room, and when Matt sat up to greet them they both screamed.

“Easy!” he said. “I thought I was jumpy.”

“Are you kidding?” his sister nearly shouted, slapping at him in the dark. “What are you doing on the couch?”

“You guys are in the guest room and Sam’s taking my room,” he said. “Also I wanted to guard the entrances, just in case. Did Terry stay behind?”

He caught the silhouette of April nodding. “He needs to keep an eye on the wounded. It’s going to be a long night for him, and he’s worried he won’t be able to save them all.” She lowered her voice. “Actually he’s worried he won’t even be able to save some of the ones he could have. He’s doing his best, but he doesn’t have the training or equipment to help half the people who need him.”

“He’s doing great,” Matt assured her, although halfway through his words were interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

Sam came over to sit on the couch next to him, and he felt her soft hands cup his face. “Go to sleep, Matt. In your own bed. I can keep watch down here.”

Matt shook his head. “I can’t sleep so I might as well keep an eye out. You should be comfortable in bed.”

The dark-haired woman made a noise that might have been frustration. “You’re injured!” At his stubborn silence she abruptly leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Fine. I’ll sit with you for a while since I can’t sleep either.”