Deep down, he held his doubts about that. He worried that instead of being a wake-up call to people to do better, it would actually increase suspicion, make people hoard what they had even tighter, build an every-man-for-himself mindset…
Grossman knew that he had to tread carefully now, find a way to capitalize on the peaceful surrender of his brother and Miller to push the inertia back toward civility. The first few days after the Event, the town actually had pulled tight, everybody pitching in and checking in on each other. It felt the same as it did every time there was some catastrophic snowstorm or when the rivers flooded. The whole town rolled up its collective sleeves and went to work.
Of course, uncertainty was a formidable foe. Before he’d been a soldier, Grossman had been a small-town guy. Both of those identities were about action. You figured out what had to be done, and you did it. He could see where the uncertainty of the situation since the Event was really hard on the people of Bowman. They were also people of action. They were people that liked problems they could face head-on and work through. They liked problems they could identify and quantify. The problem in the aftermath of the Event was that nobody knew exactly what had happened yet, how bad things really were outside of their immediate community, how long it would last, and what a resolution would look like when it arrived. It was eating Grossman alive, and he assumed it was weighing heavily on everybody else as well.
As troubling as they were, those thoughts did provide him with a distraction from the pain in his leg during the walk to the town hall. There was a small crowd gathered there to watch Miller and Jerry be taken inside. Judging by the deputies he could see waiting for them at the town hall, he assumed the other two instigators of the riot were also in custody.
Grossman faced the crowd, and his voice boomed: “In accordance with the emergency resolution the town is working under, we will be drawing up formal charges and presenting them at a hearing tomorrow morning at nine, in the school gymnasium. The initial hearing will be public. There is nothing that merits any sort of secret proceedings. However, I do want to caution you all that the hearing is not an opportunity to rekindle yesterday’s hostilities. It will be to present a case for prosecution of the people we feel instigated a civil unrest that turned violent. It is the first stage in reconciling everything that happened. Redress for any loss of life, injuries, and damage to property will be undertaken after we’ve determined if there will be criminal proceedings.”
There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling, but nobody stepped up to rile anybody against Grossman or speak up individually. He suspected it was because most in the town felt that the instigators were at least motivated by the right intentions, even if their actions were wrong. They had at least a little bit of sympathy.
It had been a lot rougher the day before, when Pat Neustadt, owner of Dollar King, and her guys had been brought in. The riot had started over her going way beyond extortionate in what she was charging for food and other necessities. Grossman and Schuster still hadn’t determined where the first shot came from, but everybody who was outside the store was certain it had come from inside. Whether that overwhelming impression was rooted in truth or in the ill will that Neustadt had garnered from her price gouging was still uncertain.
Grossman was in the process of extracting himself from the impromptu gathering in front of the town hall when he caught sight of Peter Meier and Larry Williams coming up the way, pushing their bicycles. Peter held up a hand, a subtle but unmistakable sign that he wanted a moment of the mayor’s time. If the boys were coming into town from the Meier homestead to talk to him, he knew it was probably important. “Bring them in the back way,” he said quietly to one of the deputies as he slipped inside the building.
It still took him a couple of minutes once inside the building to make his way to his office. “Hey! It’s great to see you two. Please tell me everything up at your place is good,” Grossman said, hopeful.
“Well, we’re all on the right side of the dirt,” Peter told him.
“So, things aren’t so well with you either?” Grossman asked.
“I suspect we’ve both hit a rough patch, and they may be related,” Larry said. “But there’s something more important. We think there’s a couple of Army trucks in the area.”
Peter glanced at his watch. Despite everything on his mind, Grossman had to smile as he looked at the nearly identical piece on his own wrist. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d given the young man the sturdy, spring-driven analog watch as a farewell gift the night before he should have shipped off to basic training. “It was almost a half hour ago that I saw them coming up the highway toward town. We came down to see what they’re all about. Had no idea we’d get here before they did.”
Grossman considered this information. “This may not have been their destination. Or…”
“Or what?” Peter asked.
“Something that really pissed me off in Iraq was the lack of signposts and highway markers once we moved in. People were smart enough to knock them down ahead of our advance. Same when I ended up doing peacekeeping in the Balkans a few years later. Signs removed or even rearranged just to confuse us.”
Peter and Larry frowned at him.
“It’s one of the work details I’ve had people on,” Grossman continued. “I think there are other players in the area doing it, too.” He saw the lightbulbs go off in his guests’ eyes. “You guys aren’t the only ones set up to ride it out in place, either. Folks familiar with this area can find their way around. The rest will have a harder time.”
“Do you really want to slow down help?” Larry asked.
“Here’s the thing, my friend,” Grossman said. “We’re pretty well set up to ride a lot of things out here in town. Just like you guys are up at the Meier property. If we have to wait an extra hour or day for unsolicited help, our situation doesn’t really get any worse. Trouble coming at us can make the situation worse almost immediately, if that’s their aim. So, anything we can do to disrupt that is an acceptable risk.”
“Makes sense,” Larry said, but Grossman could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. Peter looked like he got it, though.
“I do appreciate the heads up, though, guys,” Grossman said. “I’ll see if I can free up a couple folks to take a look up the highway and see if they can get me any more info.”
“You’re welcome,” Peter said. “That’s the reason we came down, but there’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know who that was you just arrested with Frank Miller?” Peter asked.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“I know him. Why?”
Peter didn’t answer right away. Grossman could see him deliberating between giving up the information he had or pressing him. “I’ve seen him before. He was one of the three guys that came up on our property the morning the power went out. I think he was up at our place again last night. We got hit after dark.”
Grossman could tell that Peter was clearly holding his cards close to his chest. He didn’t think it was to game him about his own reticence. More that there were a lot more details about what had happened the night before up on the Meier land.
“Well, you said you’re all alive this morning. Was anybody hurt last night?”
“We’re all fine.”
Grossman sighed. “Well, I can tell you that the person we just took in wasn’t on your property last night. He was down here causing problems for me yesterday.”
Larry and Peter looked at each other, as if silently deliberating with each other over whether to give up more.
“He’s my brother,” Grossman finally said. “We haven’t gotten along for many years, but he still owns some of the property he inherited from our parents. One of the hunting cabins up on Grand View Road. I’m assuming he came up with some buddies on a hunting trip and got stranded.”
“How long have you known this?�
� Peter asked, a sudden look of confusion and anger crossing his face.
“I just found out this morning, myself. When you told me about the guys that came up to your place, it honestly never occurred to me to think that it was Jerry.” Grossman sighed. “We never talk. When he’s up here to hunt, he pretty much makes an effort to not cross paths with me at all. I had no reason to suspect he was even up here.” He noticed Peter calming. “But it explains why they were on your land looking for a running vehicle.”
“How so?” Peter asked, suspicion sneaking back into his voice.
“Your parents bought your land from me. I’d inherited it, but Jerry thought it should have been his. He’s always kept an eye on your place, ready to jump at the first sign you guys were looking to sell and move out.”
“That’s…” Peter said. “It’s a lot to absorb.”
“It is. Please believe me, Peter. I had no reason at all to believe my brother was even in Wisconsin when everything went down.”
“You sure he was here all night, then?” Larry asked.
“I can’t swear a hundred percent, but I don’t think he was up at your place last night. The shit he’s up to, he’s been down here for a few days.”
“We weren’t sure if it was three guys coming at us, or two guys trying to make us think there were more,” Peter said. “I guess this confirms it.”
“Is there anything else you feel you need to tell me about last night?” Grossman asked. He watched Peter and Larry look at each other again. “Never mind. My jurisdiction extends only to the edge of town. I don’t have any legal need to know.”
Peter pursed his lips. “If you think it’ll help in dealing with your brother and anything he’s up to, his big friend with the beard will be buried a little ways off our property later today. His other friend, the one with the temper, we must have winged him and he ran off.”
Grossman considered this knowledge. He didn’t know any of Jerry’s friends well enough to have any chance of knowing who Peter was talking about. The information may or may not become useful later. The matter of one of Jerry’s wounded friends being loose in the area did concern him, though. In his jurisdiction or not, if Peter could identify him as having a temper, and he’d been on the Meier land twice, he was a threat that needed to be dealt with.
“I’m sorry that some of my family drama came to your family,” Grossman said. “Your father deserves so much better, as do you and your mother.”
Peter shook his head. “I think I want to head back home. This is a lot to think about.”
“Right,” Grossman said. “I don’t know what I can do to make things right, but I’ll try.”
“Nah,” Peter said. “This isn’t on you. I just need to go.”
As soon as the two were out of his office, Grossman put his head in his hands. He was in the middle of recriminating himself for never once putting the pieces together to figure it might have been his brother on the Meier land when he remembered where the conversation had started. He grabbed his cane and went to Cathy Berkman’s office. He told her about the sighting of military-looking trucks in the area.
“Got it,” she said. “You get back to your office and make sure it looks presentable and like we’re all under control. I’ll get messengers out and help Schuster make sure detention looks squared away.”
“Find some guys we can trust to get hidden and be ready.” Berkman was the town admin and had been working close with him for so long that he assumed she knew what he meant.
Her simple reply of, “On it,” told him he could rely on her to get the right people in position to act if the incoming trucks were trouble instead of help.
He was in the process of straightening out papers for the second time when he heard the unmistakable rumble of old Army cargo trucks through the open window of his office. He gave his desk one last look to be sure it would look good for a meeting with whomever was in charge, picked up his cane, and went downstairs.
His first impression as the vehicles came in passed the most basic sniff test—there were stenciled unit designations on the bumpers. He didn’t recognize them immediately, but had to admit that he wasn’t really up on what the local units were, or who might have been at Fort McCoy at the time of the Event. Since the base was about eighty miles away, in the direction the trucks had come from, that was the most logical assumption he could come up with.
The trucks drove right up to the town hall and stopped. He couldn’t tell how many people were in the vehicles. Each one had two people in the cab, but the beds were covered with canvas tops.
“Tom Grossman. Mayor here,” Grossman said to the person in civilian attire in the passenger seat of the leading truck. He introduced Schuster as well.
The civilian stepped down from the cab, looking a little cautious but not scared or overly apprehensive. “Daniel Prange. State of Wisconsin Emergency Management. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mayor.” He extended a hand. “Chief,” he said as he turned to Schuster next.
Prange looked around the town. The passenger of the other truck stepped down. “This is Captain Carter with our National Guard liaison team,” Prange said as the other man walked up.
The man definitely had an air of authority in the way he moved, and his build definitely matched the Infantry branch insignia on his collar. Not necessarily what Grossman would have expected from somebody whose job was to shine a seat down in Madison, but he’d seen his share of good combat officers who’d opted to slide into a desk during his years in the service.
“It’s great to see you guys,” Grossman said. “Your troops need some chow? We’ve got a bit of a mess hall going over at the school. We’re between meals right now, but we could get something going.”
“We can wait until lunch,” Prange said. “Captain, why don’t you go with the chief here, see what their security situation looks like, while I chat with the mayor. The rest can stand down, just keep ’em near the trucks for now.”
Carter called out some commands while Grossman and Prange went to his office. As he stepped inside, he was glad that Berkman had prompted him to tighten up. It really had been cluttered to an embarrassing extent up until that point.
“We’re taking a survey of the area, seeing how local communities are faring as our first step toward reconstituting the state government,” Prange said while settling into a seat.
“I understand,” Grossman said. “I was hoping we could start the conversation with some news. What’s the situation?”
“Ah, forgive me,” Prange said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a lot to do, and keep forgetting that part. I’m sure you’ve already picked up that we’ve been hit by a massive, coordinated EMP attack. As of now, the federal government is non-functional. Too big to be back online yet. We’re not sure if it ever will, if I may be honest. Madison is recovering, slowly. Milwaukee is an absolute nightmare; Fox Valley is still in disarray. We’ve been sending the bulk of our attention out that way so far and are just now getting to sending teams west from Madison to see how things are this way.”
“I can imagine,” Grossman said. “I wouldn’t want to be in a big city right now.”
Prange chuckled. “Madison’s not that big, but I hear you. I think when this is all over, I’m going to buy me a piece of dirt out this way and never walk into a place bigger than a thousand people again. Speaking of which, what are your numbers here?”
“Nominally about seven fifty. Probably a little above that right now. We’ve absorbed some hunters that were up in the area, a couple families of refugees that have wandered in.”
“And how are things generally going? Controlled, chaotic, a little bit of both?” Prange asked, opening his briefcase and taking out a binder and pen.
“We had our first serious instance of unrest yesterday, but it looks like we’re resetting.” Grossman knew Prange had legitimate reason to ask these things but was still reluctant to give up too much information.
“What kind of controls do you have—curfews, active polici
ng, rationing, and all that. And have you tightened up as part of your ‘reset’ you just mentioned?”
The wording of the question didn’t sit well with Grossman. The assumption that the town had cracked down early was, again, logical coming from somebody with the state, but there was something about the way it was asked. He felt like he was being accused of being too soft. It was in Prange’s tone of voice, his facial expression.
Grossman suspected Prange and Schuster would be good buddies. He resolved to do what he needed to keep the two away from each other until the survey was done and their visitors went on their way to the next town.
4
Jerry Grossman had an immediate reaction to the makeshift detention in the basement of the town hall. Judging by the number of filing cabinets crammed into the hallway leading to the room, he guessed it had previously been used as document storage. Even with the filing cabinets pulled out, it was a small room.
It didn’t help that it was already occupied. By the time he and Frank Miller were put in, the other two men who’d gotten the riot going with him were already there. The middle of the room was dominated by a sturdy table with a couple of wooden chairs. There was also a big safe in one corner of the room, looking like it had been left there because it was too big to easily relocate.
“Move it,” the deputy said, giving him a little shove.
The door shut behind him, and he heard a padlock on the other side of the door snap shut. Not that he’d looked, but he hadn’t noticed any hardware as he’d gone through the door. He assumed that meant it wasn’t very substantial, just in case any others inside decided they needed to bust out. The room’s walls were cinder block all the way around, and the door and frame were both metal. The door also swung outward, and the lock on the knob was on the inside, hence the padlock. If it came to brute force, they should only have to defeat the hasp or the lock, not muscle a sturdy steel door through an equally beefy jamb.
Age of Survival Series | Book 2 | Age of Panic Page 3