Trent was also one of the sneakiest people Trev had ever met: he still remembered running into the Lincolns on his trip to Michigan to find his family, when the man had popped up out of nowhere wearing a ghillie suit and completely caught him by surprise. If Trent's intentions hadn't been friendly Trev would've been dead right then and there.
That sort of stealth was a useful skill to pass along to the defenders patrolling and filling sentry duty around Aspen Hill.
When Trev reached his friend's cabin the man was busy using car windows and windshields to make a greenhouse against the wall of his family's cabin. Trent had plenty of those to work with, since along with his job as a defender he had a side business scavenging glass from cars down around the ruins of Aspen Hill. Trev had gone with him on a few runs now, since glass would be a valuable trade commodity. Maybe not down in Mexico, but definitely for the people in the Utah Rockies who were trying to rebuild their lives and might like to have sunlight in their new houses.
From the looks of it the man was using Lewis's design of a mostly underground structure with a slanted south-facing roof to catch the sunlight, with the cabin wall as the back wall of the greenhouse and its highest point. But when Trent saw Trev headed his way he straightened with a resigned look. “What's the emergency?”
Trev gave him a crooked grin. “Not exactly an emergency.” He quickly told his friend the news of the retired General's visit, and Matt's plans to make the town presentable for his arrival.
“And Matt did say he'd be paying us for this work?” Trent asked, just to be sure.
Well Matt hadn't outright said that, but he hadn't said no when Trev brought it up, either, so it was safe to assume. “Yep.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Let's get to work.”
* * * * *
“Look, I have a healthy respect for politics,” Lewis said.
Matt couldn't help but laugh at that. His friend had been very vocal about his opinion on the state of things before the Gulf refineries attack, so he wasn't buying that claim for one second. “Seriously?”
Lewis smiled gamely. “Okay fine, I consider it a necessary evil at the best of times. But at least I know it's important to give Lassiter a good impression. I'm just saying he picked a rotten time for this visit. The next convoy heads out in two days if all goes as planned, and we're wasting time and effort rolling out the red carpet for him when we should be getting ready to send our truck down to San Antonio again.”
“Nobody's saying you're wrong.” Matt held in an irritated sigh and looked around at the gathered crowd, all dressed in their Sunday best and eagerly awaiting the Presidential candidate's arrival.
Lewis had also been very vocal about his disapproval over the town dropping everything to prepare for this visit. Which was understandable, considering the guy was responsible for the next truck going south to Mexico and had spent the last two days watching the deadline speed closer while everyone spent their time hanging bunting.
Still, Lassiter would be here in about ten minutes if he stuck to schedule. Matt had sort of hoped his friend would finally quit griping now that the big moment had arrived. Although maybe it was good to be reminded that there were things more important to Aspen Hill's future than who would be the first President of the United States of America's reformed government.
For a while after the first convoy was attacked and barely made it home there'd been more than a little worry that there might not even be another one. But thankfully the Mexican government had taken the joint ultimatum by the US and Canada about CCZ attacks on trade convoys seriously and was working to comply.
Of course, it was doing it in a way that was in keeping with the country's current position. Specifically, it was offering the services of its soldiers as convoy guards, at a stiff but not impossible fee. Along with all the other useful benefits provided by those guards, hiring them also came with the assurance that the convoy was under Mexico's protection, and any harm to it would be considered an attack on Mexico itself.
Mexico's response to such an attack would be to cut off all trade with the aggressor nation. And considering the fact that the US, Canada, and the CCZ were all desperate for the food Mexico offered to survive the next month, let along through the next nuclear winter, that meant nobody wanted to get on their bad side.
Hiring out convoy guards wasn't quite extortion, but it certainly lined Mexico's pockets and provided gainful employment to hundreds of their troops. Even so, under the circumstances it seemed like an arrangement the US and Canada could live with, and Mexico had already sent their guards north to escort the next batch of trade convoys down to San Antonio.
That begged the question of whether the CCZ would expect their enemies to return the favor and attack their convoys. Most likely the blockheads did, and so were now paying for their mindless aggression by having to hire the same guards everyone else had.
Matt had a feeling Mexico was just fine with the situation, since it meant general peace for everyone under the country's protection and even more profits. A sort of enforced cease fire that everyone involved was paying for the privilege to enjoy.
He was torn away from his musing on the trade situation when one of Trev's defenders to the west of town reported that the Presidential candidate's convoy had arrived.
Matt quickly stood from his seat on the new platform Aspen Hill had painstakingly set up in the meadow north of town for Lassiter's visit, which was solid enough it would probably be a permanent fixture from this point onward. Seated beside him with a squirming Olivia on her lap Sam also stood, giving him a questioning look. He nodded.
Show time.
For a moment he looked around to make sure the decorations were straight and the townspeople were well organized and tidy. Everything looked about as good as could be hoped for on short notice. “All right, people!” he called. “Our guest has arrived!”
There was a heartfelt cheer from the crowd, and off to one side the band Aspen Hill had scraped together for the occasion began playing patriotic music with commendable skill. The town boasted more than a few casual musicians and even one or two serious professionals, who seemed grateful for an opportunity to play to a real audience. And while the range of available instruments wasn't suitable to any traditional band, or of particularly high quality, they made do.
Aspen Hill always did.
About a minute later the first vehicles of Lassiter's convoy appeared atop the ridge and started down into the valley. As the long line of cars, trucks, and SUVs came into view, stretching their way down the steep road with no sign of an end, Matt couldn't help but notice that even though Lassiter had retired to pursue his political career his convoy was accompanied by a full military escort.
He doubted the other candidates were afforded similar consideration; most of them probably had trouble finding a single vehicle they could use to tour their potential constituencies across the fledgling United States in the Rockies.
Even more than that, as the convoy parked beside the field and the retired General and his functionaries joined Matt and the other Aspen Hill leaders on the modest platform, military engineers busied themselves setting up generators to power microphones, speakers, and even what looked like lights for photo ops. On top of that, off to one side more young men and women in uniform had set up three radios, which they were apparently using to relay the events to anyone listening and with which they would pass on Lassiter's words to the nation.
Well, at least when it came to the voting itself it would be a fair and democratic election.
“Thank you for having us, Mayor Larson,” Lassiter said, shaking Matt's hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Larson,” he added, warmly taking Sam's hand then ruffling Olivia's hair as if she were his favorite niece. All the while keeping a wide smile plastered on his face that seemed to be primarily for the benefit of the crowd.
Sam murmured a few niceties, obviously intimidated and probably feeling out of her depth. Matt could definitely sympathize, and spoke a bit louder to compens
ate. “Of course, Candidate Lassiter. Welcome to Aspen Hill.”
He wasn't sure if that was the proper form of address, or whether he should still be using the man's military title even if he was retired, like you did with former Presidents. He was a bit shaky on military etiquette. Or election etiquette, for that matter; he probably should've just stuck with the tried and true “Mr.”.
If Matt had made a gaffe Lassiter didn't comment on it. Still smiling, the Presidential candidate moved on to exchange handshakes and pleasantries with Catherine and the other town leaders. That left Matt and Sam to move down the line shaking hands with Lassiter's staff.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Colonel Grimes in that line, near the end with a few members of his own staff. Matt smiled more genuinely, happy to see the senior officer, and shook his hand warmly. “Good to have you, Colonel.”
Grimes grinned and leaned in close. “Brigadier General, actually,” he said in a low voice. “Although keep it to yourself for now . . . the promotion hasn't gone through yet.”
Matt's smile widened even more. “Congratulations! You've certainly earned it.”
“I agree completely,” Sam said, stepping up to offer her own hand. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Larson. You're looking lovely today.” The senior officer finished the handshake and patted Olivia's head. “And this little lady's getting bigger fast, isn't she? Walking in no time I bet.”
“We're keeping our phones charged just in case so we can record her first steps,” Matt admitted.
In the brief pause while everyone decided whether to keep the conversation going or move on down the line Grimes abruptly glanced past Matt's shoulder, then inclined his head that way. “Looks like our people are just about set up. Shall we find our seats?”
“After you,” Matt replied, gesturing.
A young woman from Lassiter's staff was directing seating arrangements. At her ushering Matt and the Colonel were led to seats on either side of the retired General's, and Sam was seated on Matt's other side. After a bit of shuffling the rest of the candidate's staff filled up the front row, while Aspen Hill's leaders and a few other functionaries were seated in the row behind.
“Anything of note I could mention to your people?” Lassiter asked Matt as he settled in beside him, still directing a million-watt smile at the crowd. At Matt's confused look the candidate continued. “You know, anything significant that's happened recently in Aspen Hill.”
“Oh, right.” Matt struggled to think of something, resisting the urge to scratch his ear and uncomfortably conscious of all the eyes on them.
Sam rescued him, graciously breaking the awkward silence. “Well, not too long ago a chunk of our people headed back to the valley east of here, to resettle the ruins of the town we abandoned when the blockheads attacked.”
“You don't say!” Lassiter's smile became more genuine. “We're practically having to use cattle prods to get all the stragglers in the refugee camps to move out and form productive communities, and here you've got people taking their own initiative to do just that.”
The man's phrasing made Matt slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, Aspen Hill's citizens are pretty hardworking and independent.”
“So I've heard.” Lassiter abruptly stood, holding up his hands as he approached the podium. The gesture was ostensibly meant to quiet the clapping and cheering, but under his charismatic prodding just served to spur the crowd to greater enthusiasm. The candidate let the applause go on for nearly a minute before he finally patted the air more firmly, and the noise settled into an expectant hush.
Matt watched it all, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed; the retired General certainly took to politics like a duck to water. At least the man genuinely seemed to respect Matt's position as Mayor, and hadn't shown any sign of noticing his age or inexperience.
“My fellow citizens of Aspen Hill,” Lassiter began, voice booming clear and undistorted through the speakers the military engineers had set up at either end of the platform. “Thank you for inviting me to your fair home. It's a pleasure to be here.”
He waited for the crowd's applause to settle down before continuing solemnly. “And I don't say those words lightly. I look at this town, sprung up from a mountain meadow in less than a year's time, and what you've achieved here is remarkable. While others struggle to survive day to day you've managed a great measure of health and prosperity, and have built a solid foundation towards a bright future.”
This drew a stronger cheer, and Matt felt a surge of pride. Whether the man was sincere or meant it as flattery, his words were true and well deserved. Sam took his hand and squeezed it, obviously just as pleased by the praise.
“In fact, if I may be so bold I'd set Aspen Hill as a town for all others in our fair nation to strive to emulate. It is not just my dream, but my goal, to see that under my leadership everyone manages to find equal success. It will require hard work and determination, but one day soon the United States will rise from the ashes of the Retaliation to our previous prosperity.”
This cheer was the loudest yet. Matt was genuinely surprised, and realized it might not've been just a happy coincidence that their town was one of the first stops on Lassiter's trail; he'd expected Aspen Hill to be a routine visit, not a major talking point to the retired General's campaign.
Did the man say this sort of thing to every town he visited? Doubtful, if he had a radio team following him around broadcasting his words. He'd start to look pretty insincere if he handed out that sort of praise to everyone regardless of circumstances.
Which meant he was singling Aspen Hill out for special recognition. That was . . . unexpected. Grimes must've really sung their praises, a dramatic change from the colonel's opinion of them to begin with.
Lassiter went on to detail the policies he felt would be most important to his administration if he was elected. A lot of it was fairly standard sound bites, but he also spent some time talking about expanding trade with Mexico and Canada, securing the border with the CCZ and continuing to press the enemy until they were no longer a threat, and emptying the refugee camps or converting them into productive settlements. Matt could at least appreciate that the man seemed genuinely interested in the issues, and wasn't spending his campaign focusing on building himself up or attacking the failings of the other candidates.
Had Lassiter won Matt's vote? Well that was certainly the question, especially since Matt hadn't had much chance to hear from the other candidates and June 1st was coming up fast. But at the very least the prospect of having the retired General as President was an idea he could live with, and maybe even feel hopeful about.
Of course, there was a wide gulf between words and deeds.
After his speech Lassiter graciously accepted Matt's offer to lead him on a brief tour of the town, although from his response Matt had a feeling the candidate would've preferred to spend the time glad-handing and charming potential voters. At least the man wasn't completely disappointed there, since a large chunk of Aspen Hill's population trailed along for the tour and gave him plenty of opportunities for shameless self promotion.
Even if Matt hadn't been keenly aware of Lassiter's obvious impatience, he couldn't have dragged the tour out very long because there just flat out wasn't that much to see. And Matt was even more painfully aware of how basic and crude their best efforts must look to a leader who'd previously commanded battalions of soldiers equipped with the proper tools for major projects, and who by the looks of things would very likely soon have an entire nation's worth of resources at his disposal.
Still, just as Lassiter hadn't looked down his nose at a small town Mayor in his early 20s, he also appeared genuinely impressed by what Aspen Hill had accomplished and gave appropriate compliments. Some of it even when the crowd of stragglers weren't in earshot to appreciate the praise.
Matt shook his head at himself; he was becoming as cynical as Catherine.
All too soon Lassiter informed them that he needed to move on to the ne
xt step on his tour. “In fact, that might just be your new town,” the retired General said. “Assuming it's not too far out of the way?”
“It's just a half hour or so east along the road you came in on, down past the mouth of the canyon,” Matt answered.
“Good, then it's on the way!” Lassiter motioned to the young woman who'd directed Matt to his seat earlier. “If you could give Ms. Molson specific directions?”
“Of course.” As they made their way at a quicker pace back to the parked convoy Matt and Sam described the location of Robert's town to the aide. They had plenty of time, since Lassiter spent a few minutes going through the crowd shaking hands.
By the time the retired General reached his car he'd completely charmed the crowd. He was given a hero's sendoff as he ducked into the backseat, and the cheering and applause continued long after the convoy had rumbled to life and started up the eastern slope of the valley.
Chauncey Watson, who was standing next to Matt, Sam, and the other town leaders, snorted. “If he doesn't win Aspen Hill by a landslide I'll give you my wooden leg.”
Sam laughed and Matt smiled wryly. “I'll do you one better: if he doesn't win the entire nation by a landslide I'll step down and you can be Mayor.”
“Somehow I'm not holding my breath for a Mayor hopping on one foot,” Catherine Tillman said in a serious tone. Matt couldn't tell what she thought of Lassiter and his visit from her expression. “I just hope that since he's a shoe-in he's worthy of the job.”
The mood sobered slightly, and they watched in silence as the convoy disappeared over the ridge. “Well at least he seems to like us,” Ben finally said.
Yeah, that was something. Matt put an arm around Sam's shoulders and stroked Olivia's soft cheek, letting the baby catch his hand and start nibbling at his fingers. “Well I guess the party's over, so we'd better get back to preparing our truck for the convoy.”
Nuclear Winter | Book 3 | Chain Breakers Page 7