“And if they have nothing to contribute?” Mayor Frank said. “What would you have me do with them then?”
“Send them west into Macon,” Shane said. “It’s a bigger city, and they should have more resources.”
Voices rose on all sides, most agreeing with Shane, some disagreeing.
“If they can’t earn their keep, why should they take our food?” someone said.
“Who gets to define merit?” said another. “Anyone can do menial tasks around town. Is that not enough?”
“It’s not,” said a third. “We have more than enough mouths to feed as it is. If these outsiders can’t contribute directly to the food bank, send them packing. Downtown Macon can deal with them.”
This was different from the murmuring in the previous town meetings. Beth felt an aggressive energy in the air. Mayor Frank held up his hand and signaled everyone to silence, but it did no good. Finally, he turned to the sheriff, as if looking for help, but James shook his head and pointed at his shirt pocket. At this, Frank pulled the gavel out of his pocket and began hammering the podium with it, producing a headache-inducing series of bangs that transformed the murmuring into groans and cursing.
“Folks, we can’t have everyone trying to talk at the same time,” the mayor said, practically shouting into the megaphone. “Nothing’s going to get done tonight if we can’t take turns. If you want to say something, raise your hand, and wait for me to call on you. Otherwise, please just listen and hold your thoughts.” He gave the podium one more good bang with the gavel before putting the gavel back in his pocket.
It worked. People stopped talking, but Beth sensed their agitation, some rocking back and forth, others fidgeting, restlessly tapping their feet.
“Okay, Shane has presented an idea,” the mayor said, “and since it’s a decision that will affect everyone, we’re going to handle it democratically. Cast your vote by raising your hand. A simple majority rules. Can we handle that? No shouting, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Shane thinks we should restrict entry into our community to those outsiders who can contribute in some meaningful way. All in favor of this idea, please raise your hands.”
Almost every hand in the room went up immediately, and most of the rest went up a few seconds later. However, Beth noted that some people were not in favor of a merit-based system, notably Ryan the socialist and nosey Nora. They both sat stock-still, unmoving and unyielding to Shane’s idea.
“I think the results of our vote are crystal clear,” Frank said, with what Beth thought was a sour edge to his voice. “You want us to screen outsiders. Newcomers can only stay if they are able and willing to contribute to the community. We’ll have to figure out the best way to do that, but it’s on us, I suppose. Sounds like a logistical nightmare.”
Shane raised his hand again but didn’t wait to be called on before speaking. “I would like to volunteer to organize the welcoming committee who will meet with newcomers.”
Beth cringed. Shane’s request was far too bold, especially after the shift in the crowd at the previous town meeting. Would people realize he was trying to deflect attention from his family?
“I’ll put together a team,” the mayor said. “You can be a member of the team, Shane, since it’s so important to you. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” Shane said, then added, somewhat lamely, “I just want to help.”
She heard a familiar voice then. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Yates standing near the back of the room. Though he lived in south Macon, he’d spent quite a bit of time in Beth’s community making house calls to his many patients in the area. Still, she was surprised to see him there.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said, stepping forward and raising his hand. Despite the sweltering heat, he was still dressed nicely in a button-up shirt and a yellow bow tie. “I hate to interrupt, but there’s something I really must talk about before we get too deep into other things. It is very important.”
Frank gestured in his direction. Beth wondered if the mayor wasn’t relieved for the conversation to shift away from Shane. “Yes, of course, Dr. Yates. What’s on your mind, sir?”
“Folks, we’re running low on all kinds of medical supplies,” the doctor said. “There simply haven’t been any shipments, and the local pharmacies are running out. We have some people in this community with serious medical conditions that need daily medication, and I won’t be able to supply them for much longer. Even basic supplies, I’m almost out of bandages, antiseptic, over-the-counter medication. It’s not just me. Every clinic, hospital, and private practice in the metro area is running low or out of medical supplies.”
“What needs to be done, Doc?” the mayor said.
“There have to be medical supplies in some of the abandoned houses, shops, and vehicles,” Dr. Yates said. “I don’t have time to go hunting all over Macon looking for them. We could really use some volunteers to take up that task.”
Immediately, Owen raised his hand. Beth was shocked. He hadn’t said anything yet. He’d scarcely seemed to be paying attention. Beth was sure about half his attention had been floating in the ether thinking about a certain Horton girl. She grabbed his sleeve and tried to pull his arm down, but it was like a mouse trying to stop a bull elephant. Owen was a strong boy. When she kept pulling, he glanced at her and shook his head.
“Dr. Yates, I’d like to volunteer,” he said, to the audible gasps of his mother and father. “I’ll put a team together, and we can search through the abandoned buildings in the community for medical supplies.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, son,” Dr. Yates said. “If you think you can handle it, I’ll leave it in your hands. Just bring me anything you find.”
“I will,” Owen said. “I’ll get on it right away.”
He turned back around in his seat, beaming at the people in the crowd who were smiling and nodding.
“Owen, what are you thinking?” Beth said, softly.
“You can’t roam around the neighborhood,” Jodi said. “How is that safe?”
“I won’t be by myself,” Owen said, his voice taking on a harshness Beth had never heard from him. “I’ll be armed. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, I’m seventeen now. I’m not a child. I can handle it.”
“I don’t like it,” Jodi said.
“Neither do I,” Shane added.
Beth could tell he was clenching his jaw. He’d always been such a subdued boy. Where was this sudden willfulness coming from?
“I’m going to do it,” he said, and then, softer, “and you can’t stop me.”
They scarcely had time to react. Suddenly, Ryan the socialist stood up in the front row and began shouting, “Hey! Hey! I want to say something now. Hey!” Finally, the mayor acknowledged him with a wag of his finger.
“Okay, Ryan, I hear you,” Frank said. “Just a moment, please. Dr. Yates, I believe your problem is solved. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Yates replied, fading back into the crowd.
“Good.” Mayor Frank nodded his head in Ryan’s direction. “Orderly fashion. That’s what we’re going for here. Now, Ryan, what did you want to say?”
Ryan turned to the crowd behind him, his eyes scanning faces. Beth felt him tracking toward her, and suddenly they locked eyes. As soon as they did, such a flash of hatred crossed his face—his upper lip curling, his eyebrows drawing down, his nostrils flaring—that she shuddered. She was determined not to look away, not to wilt beneath that gaze, so they stared at each other for a few tense seconds. Then Ryan turned back to Mayor Frank.
“I want to know when you’re going to redistribute the food stores,” he said. “All the food stores. Not just what you took from C & R. Are we going to wait until people actually start to die from starvation before we do it? Do you have to bury a few kids before you correct the problem that was caused—remember, it was caused—by some people rushing to the stores early and emptying the shelves?”
Beth was disturbed at the tone of the
murmurs that went through the crowd. Most of them seemed approving. Frank didn’t respond right away. He fiddled absently with the paper on his podium, as if looking for an answer written there.
“Now, look, Ryan,” he said, finally. “I haven’t decided on that yet.”
“Well, let’s all decide on it then,” Ryan said. “Otherwise, what are we doing here?”
Frank cleared his throat, though he didn’t seem to need it, and glanced at Sheriff Cooley. James gave him what Beth read as a cool, unfriendly look, as if warning him. When Mayor Frank turned back to the crowd, he was frowning deeply.
“Okay, so I’ll go ahead and talk about it,” he said. “I’ve been meeting with my volunteer committee to discuss this issue. Specifically, since I ordered the confiscation of food from the markets, we are considering making the rule apply to every household. Everyone would be required to bring their supplies to the food bank at City Hall, which would then be redistributed in weekly ration boxes to each household, depending on the number of family members.”
Shane almost lurched out of his seat, but Jodi laid her right arm across his chest. Beth felt a rush of blood to her face, her heartbeat in her throat.
“It’s not just about the number of family members,” Ryan said. “Some people in here stockpiled food specifically to take advantage of the situation.” He whipped around and pointed at Beth. “I’ve spoken to this woman’s neighbor. I know that she has practically an entire warehouse of food in her house. What about those of us who didn’t get to the grocery store in time? I’ve barely got anything left. Does that mean I barely get any weekly rations? In a sense, all of that woman’s food belongs to us. It came from our businesses in our community.”
Beth heard a growing rumble in the crowd. Jodi was struggling against Shane, trying to keep him from standing up. Beth knew she had to say something before the whole meeting spiraled out of control. Rising from her seat, she nodded toward the mayor, and he pointed at her. James had risen from his seat and approached the edge of the stage, as if he feared they were on the verge of a full-blown riot.
“Beth Bevins, did you have something to say in your defense?” the mayor said.
Beth felt all eyes on her. She saw the hateful, avaricious half-smile of Ryan the socialist and heard all the grumbling voices.
“I said it at the last meeting, and I’ll say it again.” She spoke as loudly as she could, trying to project her voice, crackling with anxiety, to the far corners of the auditorium. “All of these rumors were started by one disgruntled neighbor who wanted a handout, but it’s silly. I have a garden in my backyard, yes, and I can the vegetables. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.”
The longer she spoke, the more she heard the voices of the crowd around her sharpening. They didn’t believe her.
Maybe I’m just not a convincing liar, she thought.
“Let’s take a vote.” Ryan said. “You said we’re doing this democratically, mayor, so let us vote on it.”
“Vote on what, exactly?” Frank asked.
“Vote on confiscation,” Ryan shouted, shaking a fist. “Let’s vote on confiscating private storehouses. It’s not enough to ask people to bring their food to the food bank. Who knows what they might be hiding? We’ll need to go inside homes and inspect. It’s the fair thing to do. Don’t you all agree?”
As Beth sat down, she saw hostile faces on all sides, though not everyone. Several in the crowd seemed sympathetic.
“We can’t let people invade private homes,” a deep voice bellowed from near the back of the room.
“We have to,” said another.
“I’m not letting this happen,” Shane said, moving Jodi’s arm away from his chest.
“Stop it, Shane. Stop it,” she said sharply. “We’re surrounded. Don’t make it worse. Let them do whatever they’re going to do, so we can get out of this room alive. We’ll deal with it later.”
“Deal with it later,” he echoed, slumping into his seat. “Yes, we will.”
Mayor Frank raised a hand and signaled the crowd to silence. Eventually, the shouting faded to a dull roar. Sheriff Cooley tried to speak, but the mayor waved him back.
“I’m handling this, Sheriff,” he said sharply. Then to the crowd, “Yes, a democratic vote is the only reasonable way to address the issue, but to do that, I need everyone to settle down. Come on, folks.” But the crowd wouldn’t have it. They kept right on grumbling. Finally, the mayor shrugged and said, “Fine, let’s take a vote. All in favor of confiscating private food stores, raise your hands.”
Hands went up all over the room. It seemed like close to half the people.
“Come on, folks,” Ryan shouted. “We’re talking about our very survival here. Don’t be foolish! Vote for yourselves. Vote for your loved ones.”
That got a few more hands to raise. Frank seemed to be making a mental count. The sheriff leaned in and said something to him that Beth couldn’t hear, but the mayor shook his head and kept on counting.
“Okay, very good,” the mayor said, after a moment, making a mark on the piece of paper. “Now, all opposed to confiscation, raise your hands.”
Beth raised both of her hands, hoping that somehow she might get counted twice. Owen, seeing this, did the same. Jodi raised her good arm, and Shane followed suit. Other hands went up all over the room. Beth was reassured by the number of people voting in her favor.
We still have friends in this community, she thought.
It didn’t take long to realize that the vote would be very close.
“Wow, I can’t believe this,” Owen said. “What’s wrong with these people?”
Beth shushed him. “Jodi’s right. Let’s be very careful, so we get out of here alive.”
Despite her own words, she was sorely tempted to rise and defend herself. As Frank began counting the votes, she struggled to keep her seat, afraid that any defense would only turn more people against them.
“We’re getting out of here,” Shane said, giving first Jodi then Beth a stern look. He reached down and patting the holster of his Glock. “Do you hear me? If this vote goes against us, we’re getting out of here.”
“Shane, stop it,” Jodi said.
“Be ready,” he said, ignoring her words. “Follow my lead.”
Finally, the mayor nodded, as if to himself, and raised the megaphone to his mouth.
“Okay, the town has voted,” he said. “I’ve got the count, and it was close. Please, everyone take a seat.” When Ryan continued to stand, the mayor pointed at him. “That includes you, Ryan. I’m not revealing the count until you sit down.”
Ryan dropped into his seat, the hinges giving a loud squeak. Beth noticed the sheriff easing closer to the steps at the edge of the stage, his hand dropping toward his holster.
“The people have spoken,” Mayor Frank said. “Some of you won’t like the result, but it was democratic and fair, and we’re going to abide by it.”
“What’s the result already?” someone shouted.
“It was close, folks,” the mayor said. “I know it looks like I counted fast, but I’m an old hand at this. I counted twice, so I’m sure I got the numbers right.”
“Get to it!” someone shouted.
“By a difference of twelve votes,” the mayor said, “you have decided not to pursue forced redistribution of private food stores.”
This set off an uncontrollable cacophony of shouting, cursing, cheering, and other noises. It so set Beth’s nerves on edge that she could barely process the fact that they’d just escaped a ruinous decision by the skin of their teeth.
“We will abide by the vote,” Frank shouted. “We will abide by the vote.”
As the shouting continued, Beth traded a hopeless look with her daughter.
We won the vote, she thought, but this isn’t over.
10
The stupid town meeting had given Sheriff James Cooley a sour stomach that lingered all night and well into the next day. Now, it was well past noon, and he still felt like his
abdominal cavity was melting inside of him.
What would I have done if they’d voted against Beth? A question he’d asked himself many times. He wasn’t sure how he would have dealt with it, and he was glad he hadn’t had to find out.
He’d been sitting at his desk in the office, pretending to read over the latest crime reports while waiting for Mike to arrive for his afternoon shift, but the words all melded together into a mess. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. To make matters worse, Pike kept moaning in the holding cell. James could hear him even through the heavy door. He’d taken sick sometime in the night, and in between bouts of complaining, he spent his time puking and rolling on the floor.
Finally, James conceded the futility of his efforts and cast the stapled bundle of reports onto the far corner of his desk. Pike’s groaning had taken on a guttural quality, so he pushed his chair back and rose. Despite everything, he didn’t want the scumbag to die in a cell. Eventually, he would have to transfer him to state.
“Okay, I hear you,” James muttered in response to the latest groan. “Nothing I can do to help, but I hear you.”
He didn’t relish the thought of dealing with a dead body. The man was probably already stinking up the place. When James stepped into the hall, he looked to his left, where a door opened into the reception area. It was a shock to see the room completely empty. James had worked his way through the usual crowd of complainers that morning, and no one else had showed up. The community was quiet for one rare moment.
Maybe they’ve run out of things to vandalize and steal, he thought. They’ll find new ways to cause problems tomorrow.
He heard Pike retching in his holding cell, so he turned in that direction, pulling the big ring of cellblock keys off his belt clip.
“Yeah, I hear you in there,” he said. “Don’t die on me. I’m coming.”
He unlocked the heavy door at the end of the hall, hearing the familiar echoing clang coming from the concrete room beyond. When he pulled open the door, he saw the row of holding cells in the gloom, the only light coming from three lit candles he’d placed on the floor in the corner. He expected the usual ranting from Pike as soon as he stepped through the door—heckling him, threatening him, demanding a visit from his lawyer or his free phone call. James had told him a hundred times that the phones didn’t work, and they’d been unable to contact his lawyer, but it made no difference.
Surviving The End (Book 3): New World Page 10