Nathan Jones - Shortage

Within less than a minute they heard the rumble of engines approaching, and then vehicles came into view driving at a reasonable speed. They were flying little American flags from posts near their windshields, like you saw in parades, and FETF was prominently stenciled on every surface. No soldiers were in sight aside from those driving the vehicles and their passengers, and no indication that the trucks covered in olive green tarp were hiding dozens of armed bandits.

“Looks like he’s trying the same trick he tried in Helper,” Catherine said, climbing up onto the righthand car to stand beside Matt. “Fool us once, shame on you.”

Matt turned to look at her, radio ready at his mouth. “Do we hide and let him get close, then open fire, or do we give him your show of force and try to turn him back?”

The older woman frowned deeply. “Whatever he is, whatever he’s done, I can’t feel good about shooting first. There might still be a way to avoid violence here.”

“I hope so.” Matt gave the front vehicle an uneasy look. The .50 cal Chauncey had mentioned was bolted atop it with a gunner standing behind ready to open fire. That weapon alone could take down a small army in the right circumstances. He turned to warn the people behind the roadblock to stay visible, but be ready to get out of sight quick if that weapon started shooting.

And that .50 cal was just what he could see. What if they had TOW missiles or RPGs to blow the roadblock to smithereens?

Whatever Ferris and the others might have been hoping, once they saw the solid roadblock and the dozens of people lined up behind it they must’ve thought better of trying to bluff their way in as FETF. The vehicles stopped a hundred yards away while the lead vehicle edged to within shouting range. A short man opened the passenger side door and stood behind it on the tall truck’s step up, megaphone in hand. It was definitely Ferris, recognizable even at that range, and although he wore a flak jacket and protective headgear now he was still dressed in the same impractical suit he’d worn last fall.

“Councilwoman Tillman,” the administrator said coldly, voice booming through the megaphone.

“Mayor Tillman, now,” Catherine replied in a shout.

Ferris snorted, the sound creating a burst of feedback. “Anderson finally buckle under the pressure? It was only a matter of time.”

“Mayor Anderson was murdered in cold blood,” the new Mayor shot back. “On the day you left, in fact.”

Even at this distance it was obvious the former FETF administrator couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried. “In any case I notice the refugee camp is abandoned. Did you finally drive those poor people away?”

Catherine shook her head. “Just the opposite. We took them into the town and offered them what shelter we could over the winter. We didn’t have food to give thanks to the state you left us in, but at least fewer refugees froze.”

Ferris looked over the crowd of hostile faces behind the roadblock. “It seems something happened after I left that you’re blaming me for. Not that it matters. Bring down this roadblock, we’re coming in.”

Even though he knew better, for just the briefest moment Matt was afraid the mayor would agree, still letting Ferris cling to his tatters of FETF authority even after everything that had happened that winter and what they’d heard from Helper.

But Catherine made no move to give the order. “The town has agreed that we no longer need FETF assistance.” She managed to shout that without sounding sarcastic, which was pretty impressive. “You’re welcome to find somewhere else that needs your help.”

“That’s not a decision you get to make!” Ferris snapped. “We represent the provisional government up in Utah Valley and we’ve come to collect taxes.”

Catherine started to reply and her voice cracked slightly. She coughed. “All this shouting is a bit hard on the vocal cords. I don’t have a megaphone like you. Could you come a bit closer?”

Matt stiffened. Was that a hint she wanted to try an ambush, or a sincere request? Either way he casually reached down to the radio at his waist and pushed the talk button, then tapped the mic twice with his fingernail. They hadn’t arranged any preset signals, but hopefully that would at least alert everyone to be ready.

To his surprise Ferris motioned the lead vehicle to come even closer, to within forty feet. The gunner behind the .50 cal looked nervously at all the weapons in the crowd, ducking slightly behind the front and side armor plates attached to the gun emplacement. Matt almost didn’t know the thin, clean-shaven face at first, until the truck got a bit closer. Then he was able to recognize a hungrier, crueler looking Randall Turner looking back at him from behind sunglasses. From the sharp intake of breath from beside him Catherine must have recognized the man as well.

“Better?” Ferris boomed, his megaphone still at the same volume but closer now.

“Better,” Catherine called at a more reasonable volume. “But let’s keep this short. We don’t recognize whatever provisional government you claim to serve and we want you to leave. We’re prepared to defend ourselves if we have to.”

The small man sneered at the crowd behind the roadblock. “With what? Hunting rifles and pistols? I have more firepower on this truck than your entire town combined. Lucky for you I have no desire to hurt you. I’m a Federal agent, sworn to help the people. I’ll do that, same as I always have.”

“You seriously want to keep pretending, Ferris?” Matt called. He waved behind him. “Look at us! You think we all gather at the roadblock in an armed crowd all day every day just in case? We knew you were coming, and we know who you are and what you’ve done. You’re not representatives of any government, you’re common thieves.”

“Thieves?” Ferris snarled, face twisted in rage behind the megaphone. “Thieves? I spent the entire winter trying to keep stupid yokels like you alive! I watched a lot of people die this winter, enough to make the entire population of your podunk town look like a joke. I tried to save all of them and failed. Then I tried to save some and found that to be impossible as well. I realized that all I could do was save myself and my men. Us, by any means necessary, must be alive to impose order during these times so that at least some remnant of our once great nation survives in this area.”

Matt had to fight his own rage. “Over five hundred of our people died this winter. I dug a lot of the graves myself. I don’t call that a joke, and neither do the people behind me. We remember who took the food from our mouths and then left once it ran out. It won’t happen again.”

In answer the bureaucrat-turned-bandit pounded his fist against the side of the truck near his head. “We’re going to take half of what you have, and I call that generous!” he boomed through the megaphone. “If you try to stop me I’ll do what I have to. This is to make sure you have a taste of what you can expect if you resist. Fire!”

Immediately Turner hauled the massive gun he stood behind down to point towards the roadblock.

Behind Matt his friends and neighbors screamed and scattered, or simply dropped to the road right where they were. Matt desperately caught the Mayor around the shoulders and lowered her behind the car, which probably wouldn’t do much to shield her from .50 caliber bullets but was better than nothing. By the time he managed that it was too late to save himself, so he he stayed where he was as the muzzle of the big gun turned to point straight at him.

If he was going to die at least he’d do it staring Ferris right in the eye, to give lie to the man’s claims about not wanting to hurt anyone.