Siege of New Hampshire (Book 2): Siege Fall

by Mic Roland

  “She’s right,” added Hooper. “I feel warmer just lookin’ at it…even way back here.” He covered his eyes with his arms. A few soft chuckles rose and faded.

  “My wife tells me it’s a psychological thing,” added Landers. “I’ll be sure and tell her it worked on some of you, too.” He shot a quick glance and a hint of a wink at Hooper. More laughter rippled through the seated crowd.

  Landers took his seat. “Okay, okay, that’s enough humor. Let’s get started,” Chuckles merged into a wave of creaks as people settled into the wooden chairs. Susan settled in her chair beside Martin, like a hen settles into her nest. She had a satisfied little smile.

  “First off, thanks everyone for getting the word out about our meeting today. This is a pretty good turnout, considering there’s no phones and all. As you all know, we’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands with the power being down.”

  “Mike? Give us a quick report on the shelter in the school gym?”

  “Sure. As of last night, we have twenty three families staying in the gym. Sixty one people. It’s a bit crowded but we can fit in a few more. Food is okay, since most families brought some with them. The fuel for the generator is going about like we expected. Assuming a delivery won’t be coming, my guess is there’s about another week’s worth in the tank.”

  This caused a minor wave of murmurs in the crowd. Some hands went up.

  “Thanks Mike.” Landers faced the crowd with some papers in his hand. “Before we take questions, a little bit ago, a courier delivered some communications from Concord. It’s not much, but it’s some word from the capitol. Let me read it to you.”

  “From Governor Vincent’s office, to the towns and citizens of the State of New Hampshire. The ongoing power outage continues to be a challenge for us all. Representatives from our state’s utilities tell us that crews are working around the clock, but that a resolution will not be as quick as needed for many of you.

  Recognizing the needs of our most vulnerable citizens, I have authorized state emergency measurers. The local FEMA director has assured me that federal aid will be rolling out soon. There are no plans to transfer local law enforcement personnel. I have not yet activated the New Hampshire National Guard, though I may request their activation for local aid efforts if needed.

  I urge all of you, the good citizens of New Hampshire, to reach out and help your neighbors. Together we can get through this situation.

  Landers put down the papers. “I told you it wasn’t much. There were some other notices about state departments and such, but you can see me later if you’re interested.”

  “There was another paper,” Landers held it up. “…that basically said state departments will stop writing paper checks too, since the postal service has pretty much shut down. There won’t be any paychecks, pension checks or whatever. The bottom line seems to be that there is no ‘business as usual’. The Feds might send some aid, but if Concord can’t wire funds or mail checks, the Feds probably can’t either.”

  “I got a pension check Wednesday,” said an older man. “Hasn’t done me any good anyhow. No bank to put it in.”

  “Right.” Continued Landers. “We’ve got to focus on what we have right now. The governor asked us to do pretty much what we do anyhow, which is take care of things at home ourselves.”

  Drew Haddock spoke up. “Some of us are a bit better situated in this outage than others: generators, wood heat, etc. The shelter at the school can’t take in everyone, and maybe not anyone for too much longer. One thing we can do is consider taking in one or two of your neighbors if you have some spare rooms.”

  Martin glanced at Susan. She glanced back with a hint of a grateful smile.

  “That brings up a related point,” Landers said. “Empty houses. With people staying in the shelter, or with each other, or people who left town to go stay elsewhere. Lots of people left town. That means we have a lot of empty houses around town. That presents a new problem. Chief Burgh?” Landers nodded to the police chief who stood, arms folded in a brook-no-nonsense pose.

  “Yes. Thanks.” The police chief addressed the crowd in his public-address voice. “Unoccupied homes may become targets for thieves, vandals or squatters. Please notify myself, one of the selectmen, or at least tell a neighbor who can tell one of us. Our ability to do routine patrols will be reduced, so it will help a lot to know which houses are occupied and which are not…or aren’t supposed to be.” His last words had a slightly ominous tone.

  “We have had reports of people walking the highways: mostly Longmeadow Road and South Road. Most of them mind their own business and move on through. Reports are a few have been more, assertive, shall we say, about requesting help. Use your discretion, of course. Best practice is to not open your door and be armed. We don’t have the manpower to monitor every road and house.”

  “That brings me to the topic of communications. Can I see a show of hands? How many of you here have a pair of walkie-talkies or other kind of radio equipment at home?” Several hands went up slowly. “Hmm.” Chief Burgh frowned, unimpressed with the meager response. “They don’t have to be big fancy units. Even a pair of kids’ talkies or a little set you use when hunting.” A few more hands went up.

  “Well, it’s a start. Could I have you folks come see me after the meeting? I’d like to coordinate a radio alert network, as best we can.” Chief Burgh resumed his sentinel pose at the end of the table. “That’s all I have for now, Jeff.”

  Martin stared at the chair back ahead of him trying to remember what became of the little pair of walkie-talkies he got for Dustin when he was in high school. He would have to go digging for those when he got home.

  “Thanks Chief,” said Landers. “Chief Anton?”

  Anton stood and cleared his throat. “I said this on Friday, but I’ll repeat it for those of you who weren’t here then. I can’t stress enough to you all, the potential fire dangers these days. Between candles for light or trying to heat your homes with fireplaces you haven’t used since…well, maybe never, the risk of fire in your homes is huge. As Chief Burgh said Friday, there is no 911 anymore and no fast way to call us at the fire department. We’ll make every effort to get there as quick as we can, but if you get careless with candles or fireplaces, we might not be able to help you in time. Don’t assume we’re just three minutes away anymore.”

  “If you plan to heat with wood, but you’re not accustomed to it, come see me later. I’m going to hold a little fireplace safety briefing after this meeting. I strongly advise you to come and listen if you have the slightest reservations. A few basic precautions can keep you from burning your house down.” With that, Chief Anton sat back down.

  People murmured to each other in serious tones.

  “Walter?” asked Landers. “Do you have some news for us from the outside world?”

  “Yessir, I do.” Walter shuffled up front with a handful of papers. He turned to face the crowd. “I’m gonna summarize, on account of time. Feel free to ask me for details later, if you want and I can show you the notes.”

  He cleared his throat like someone avoiding bad news. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a mess out there. Seems like the big riots have tapered off, but really only turned into lots of smaller riots. Nobody talks about containing them anymore. The fires in Chicago and Baltimore have burned themselves out for the most part.”

  “Things are a royal mess down in Washington. Still no news on where the President is. There’s lots of squabbling over who’s in charge, but Senator Colp seems to have most of the agencies backing him. Federal aid has been flowing, but that itself has become an issue. States in the middle of the country have been complaining that federal aid has only been going to the big cities on the coasts. The Feds say they’re just addressing the most urgent needs first. Others say the Feds are playing party favorites with the aid.”

  “To make matters worse, the Feds have been demanding that the Midwest states send additional supplies to help the coastal cities. Colp is threat
ening to impound things by executive order, which has some governors seeing red.”

  “To summarize, it doesn’t sound like folks are playing nicely out there, so it doesn’t sound like they’re in any hurry help us out.” Walter slowly sat back down.

  An awkward silence hung in the room for a long moment. Martin tried to picture the tensions ‘out there’, but it was too abstract. The bottom line seemed to be that bigger powers were fighting over aid, so a small town like Cheshire was probably not on anyone’s radar. Martin did not think he expected that Federal aid was a possible way to solve his household’s food shortage. He knew he must have had such a secret hope, however, because he felt it die.

  “Thank you, Walter,” said Landers. “That was a bit sobering. Not much we can do about what’s going on out there in the rest of the country. What we can do, is try to work together right here.” Landers bumped up the cheerful tone in his voice. “From the stacks along the walls, I can see that many of you have brought in things to trade. Unless anyone objects, I’d like to call this portion of the meeting to adjournment and start setting up for our swap meet. What do you say?”

  The crowd burst into a buzz of enthusiastic comments, as if the sour news from the outside world could be dispelled by positive talk.

  “Okay. Meeting adjourned!” Landers rapped on the table. “Everybody fold up your chair and set them against the back all over there. Could we get some volunteers to set up the tables?”

  Everyone rose at the same time, like a flock of city pigeons scared up by a running child. The roar of scraping chair legs rivaled the burst of loud conversations. People scattering in all directions. People folded up the old wooden chairs and carried them to the back. Pairs of people carried out folding tables into the middle of the room. Others maneuvered through the bustle to retrieve boxes of barter goods left along the outside walls.

  Someone dropped one of the long folding tables. It landed on the hardwood floor with a loud slap. A couple of ladies nearest the table let out reflexive screams. A couple of stressed-out men took to shouting accusations.

  Over the roar of screams, shouting and clatter came a booming voice. “Relax Everyone! Remain Calm!”

  As if it were a huge game of Redlight-Greenlight, everyone froze in the middle of whatever they were doing and looked at the doorway. Through the double doors strode a big-boned man dressed all in black. The white letters: FEMA, were printed above his jacket pocket. He pushed through the crowd, an impatient Moses.

  Keeping Calm & Trading

  Behind the big FEMA man shuffled a smaller man, also in black, carrying a black box the size of a milk crate. Behind them, several more FEMA men stepped in, but stood on either side of the doorway. The little man put down his black box on the selectmen’s table. The bigger man strode to the front of the room and held his arms high.

  “Calm down! Calm down. There’s no need to panic, good citizens. We are from FEMA, and we’re here to help.”

  “Oh thank goodness!” Candice clapped her hands together with joy.

  The roomful of people had put down their boxes and tables, but continued to stare at the big man in black.

  “I just knew you’d come and help us,” said Candice with a dramatic flourish.

  Martin studied the half dozen FEMA men still at the doorway. They all had side arms in hip holsters. Martin had always pictured relief aid workers as grandmotherly types with stacks of blankets and trays of cookies, not a semi-SWAT team.

  “You will all. Be. Okaaay,” said the big man slowly and deliberately, as if addressing children. “There is NO reason to panic.”

  Who’s panicking? thought Martin.

  “My name is Jack Quinn,” announced the big man. “I am the FEMA Deputy Branch Director for ALL of southern New Hampshire.” He held his arms out and pronounced his title succinctly, then paused so its importance could fully register with the frightened masses. “We have everything under control. There is no cause for fear. We will be trucking in relief supplies soon.”

  “I told you so,” Candice said to Landers. “I knew they wouldn’t let us down.”

  “But,” continued Quinn. “There are a couple of important points I must make you all aware of.”

  He held up a clipboard. “The Department cannot yet prohibit civilian travel on state roads…”

  Yet? Martin said to himself.

  “…but we do strongly advise you to just sit tight. We will bring the aid to YOU. We WILL take care of you. Rest assured and remain calm. Do not drive around looking for supplies. You will only impede emergency vehicles or Department officials trying to do their jobs.”

  Candice nodded her head and muttered, “We will be safe in our homes.”

  “For your own safety,” bellowed Quinn, “You should all Shelter In Place, until further notice.”

  Quinn continued in a broad, sympathetic tone. “The Department knows, that in this time of crisis, you are facing dire hardships beyond your capacity to cope. The Department knows this. But never lose hope: FEMA is on the scene. We have things under control and will supply your needs.” He motioned to his squad at the back of the room. They ducked out to the stairway.

  Quinn looked at his clipboard. “A FEMA truck will arrive at your city center on…Wednesday at…3:00 p.m. At that time, we will disperse individual supply packages — food, water, medicines — intended to get you through the next several days. Everyone will form into one orderly line for the dispersal. No unruliness will be tolerated.”

  Quinn motioned for his men to re-enter the room. “To reassure you that help is, indeed, on the way, my men are distributing some much-needed supplies to comfort you, and tide you over until our truck arrives.”

  His men returned, each with an armful of small brown paper bundles. The men worked their way through the crowd, handing out the bundles to random citizens. Roughly one in four received a package.

  “A second supply truck is scheduled to arrive Friday. This will be for your local distribution node, which is covered in the procedure documents. I want to leave these follow-up instructions with you, to guide you through these difficult times. Are any members of your former civil authority structure present?”

  No one in the crowd seemed to know what Quinn was asking. “Ah, that is sad,” he said without sincerity. “Expected, but nonetheless…”

  Landers raised his hand like a school boy unsure of his quiz answer. “Did you mean members of the town government? I’m the chair of the board of Selectmen. I’m Jeff Lan…”

  “What? Oh. That’s fine.” Quinn did not sound especially pleased. “Glad to see some remnant of local governance has survived. That may be useful to us,” said Quinn. He motioned to his assistant. The little man took a fat manila envelope out of the box and handed it to Landers.

  “These are updated documents which supersede any prior emergency plans you may have received, They outline the next steps to be taken in preparation at the local level for the longer-term management of this crisis. I am in charge of this sector.” Quinn said with evident pride.

  “I will be your conduit for contact with the State FEMA Director. All of your concerns will be routed through me. Understand? I will come back through on Wednesday to check on compliance…or shall we say, progress.”

  Quinn crossed the room towards the doorway. The Red Sea parted for Moses more easily this time. In passing, he gave a man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He patted Mrs. Cauloff on the head as he walked by. Candice shook his hand vigorously, thanking him in gushes as if he had cured her of cancer.

  The other FEMA men formed up behind Quinn in two lines and followed him down the stairs. Everyone in the room watched, silently, like children watching the last of the bathwater swirl down the drain. When the bathwater was gone, people looked at each other.

  Wilder broke the silence. “What the heck was THAT all about?”

  “Don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he wants us to remain calm,” said Hooper.

  “Who is this Quinn?” asked Drew. �
��FEMA, I know, but I’ve never heard of him. Have you?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Landers. “Some FEMA honcho, apparently. “He’s got himself a squad of men with guns n’ all, so I guess that means he’s somebody really important.”

  “He certainly thinks so,” said Hooper as he peered out the window. “And he’s got himself a fancy black Escalade too. Never seen one with all the chrome blacked out before. And lots of little antennee on the roof.”

  Others pushed up to the window for a look. Martin could get only glimpses between them. “His squad of men got a boring ol’ white Suburban. Looks kinda dumpy next to Quinn’s ninja-mobile.”

  “Look in the back there.” A woman pointed to the back of the Suburban. “It’s full of those little packages.”

  “That’s right! Hey, what’s in those things they handed out?” asked a man beside Hooper. The lucky recipients began tearing away the brown paper.