“Well, if those guys hadn’t been able to hold him back and you hadn’t given him that shot, I thought I was going to have to provide a permanent solution.” Scott said.
Dr. Davidson looked down at the gun in Scott’s hand. “Yes, well, you can put that away now.”
“Sorry about that. I forgot I still had that out.” Scott said as he put the gun away. “So, what kind of solution are you talking about, doc?”
“To be honest, it may come down to your solution in the end.” Dr. Davidson said.
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“It’s very harsh, but if things are as bad as you reported to the mayor when you got here and don’t get any better, we may not have any realistic options. I’m going to suggest that his parents keep him locked up in their house. I doubt that will work. He’s actually a very smart young man. We could put him out of the town, but I can’t really see that working either. To tell the truth, I’m at a loss on this one. I don’t have what I need to treat him and don’t have any means to get any.”
“What about that shot you gave him?” Scott asked.
“That was from a dwindling supply of a mild tranquilizer that I keep in the back. It’s not going to last very long if we try to keep him subdued. Besides, I have at least three more patients in town that I’m watching that I might need to use it on.”
Scott’s eyes widened at that. “Oh nothing to worry about, yet.” Dr. Davidson explained. “They’re not nearly as bad as Danny and they all have meds, for now; but they’re all running low. I imagine there are a lot of people in the same situation right now. There may even be some more in town that I’m not aware of. Bi-polar disorder, schizophrenics, depressives, you name it. They’re all out there with dwindling supplies of meds. We’ll just have to deal with our problems as they arise…
“Anyhoo, enough of the chitchat. I assume you’re here for me to look at that arm.”
“Yes, sir.” Scott said.
“Let’s get you on back.” The doctor said.
“How’s everything going?” Scott asked JJ as he approached the northern barricade of the town later that afternoon.
JJ stood guard duty with Karl, the man they had met when they first came to town and the family dog, Rocks. “Pretty quiet. How did things go with the shoulder? Looks like you got out of the sling.”
“Dr. Davidson said it was pretty much healed. Clean through shot and all that. Took out all of the stitches. He said I just need to take it easy for another couple of weeks. He gave me some exercises to do. It’s still a little weak, but should make a full recovery.”
“How’s Lucy doing at the clinic?” JJ inquired.
“She’s eating it up. You should go check her out for yourself, if she’s still there when you get off shift.”
“I’ll try. Clay’s not supposed to relieve me until eight. She better not be working that late.”
“Sherry working in the kitchens tonight?” Scott asked.
“Yeah. What about Tara?”
“I think she’s helping out with the kids this evening.” Scott thought back over the two weeks that they had been here. A communal kitchen ran out of the school cafeteria provided for refuges his family and those who had left homes beyond the canal to move into the safe area of town. Everything in the town seemed to work well. The family integrated into the community and had taken up jobs, as needed, to help. JJ and Clay took watches on guard duty. He and Jimmy began helping the mayor’s supply management team, while the women had either volunteered at the kitchens, medical facility, or childcare for those doing other jobs. They had even hung a little curtain around their section of the classroom that had been set up as a barracks of sorts. It offered little privacy but was better than nothing. The plus side of it, according to Scott, was that it forced them to keep all their supplies in one spot and ready to go at a moment’s notice. While the rest of the family had just about made up their minds that this could be their new home, Scott held out reservations.
Scott’s train of thought led him to one of the more interesting developments that had happened since they had moved to town. Some of the town’s residents had worked at the LeSalle County Nuclear plant a few miles south of town. After realizing that the government may not be to their rescue, mainly based on Scott and his family’s report, the mayor sent a team of men to try and restore power. Scott turned to face Karl. “Hey, Karl, you know some of the guys who went to the nuclear plant a couple days ago. Have we heard anything from them?”
“Yeah, they got back last night and made their report to the mayor. Apparently it wasn’t good news. They said the plant was safe and secure. It had apparently gone into some sort of automatic shutdown. The bad news is that something had sent a surge through the substation leading out of the plant. The guys said it was fried. They said they might be able to get some power back up and running, but without being able to get new parts from out west, they’re going to have to take apart some of the less damaged parts and put the working ones together again. It might take a couple of months.” Karl said.
“Well, I guess that’s better than totally screwed.” JJ said.
“Yeah.” Scott agreed. “If we could get power back… man that might make a world of difference. I wonder if there’s anything we can do to help?”
“If you think you can let the mayor know. He’s going to be asking for volunteers with any experience to help at the city council meeting tonight.” Karl turned back to watch the road leading out of town.
“I think I’ll do that.” Scott said. If they got power back, this really could be their new home until the end of the chaos.
Scott and JJ talked for a little while longer. Scott had just turned to walk away and go see the mayor when Karl said, “Hey, JJ, I got someone moving out there.” Scott stopped and turned back around.
“What did you see, Karl?” Scott asked. “I don’t see anyone out there.”
“I just caught a glimpse of someone going around the corner of the green house about a hundred and fifty yards on the right.”
The three scanned the road for movement. Nothing moved. “There!” Karl said. A person emerged from the side of the house across the street from the one Karl had pointed out. Rocks began barking. The person, it looked like a young man from that distance, yelled something behind him and motioned toward the barricade. “What the hell do you think that’s about?” Karl asked.
“I have no idea.” JJ answered. More people began coming out from houses in the neighborhood. “Oh my God.” JJ whispered. The men waited and watched as people just kept coming. “There must be hundreds of them.”
“Scott, since you were heading back that way, hurry up and get the mayor. We need more men up here, now!” Karl said.
In less than ten minutes Scott, the mayor, and twenty armed men drove up to the barricade in trucks. Karl and JJ had kept the gathered mass across the canal. They were just hungry refugees, malnourished, scared, and confused, looking for some place to go. Scott was amazed at how many of them there were. Hundreds of desperate faces looked across the canal. The last time Scott had seen a mass of refugees this large was when he had witnessed the sack of Morris.
Scott and Tara sat next to JJ and Leesha at the town hall meeting in the school’s gymnasium. Two days had passed since the refugees had arrived. Since very little space was unoccupied inside the protected borders of the town, the mayor gave the refugees permission to use the houses outside of the canal. The refugees didn’t have a leader, per se, but they seemed to follow a man named Jacob Townsend. He and a group of his friends exercised the most sway over the crowd of refugees. At the latest count, over seven hundred and sixty refugees now lived across the canal. Marshal Whithers, the town’s emergency resource coordinator and supply manager had been running himself ragged trying to get food and supplies to the refugees. The medical staff had also been stretched thin over the last couple of days trying to treat what refugees they could. Many were beyond help. With little antibiotics, medicines, and other sup
plies, treating the refuges was a next to impossible task.
The mayor stepped up to the podium and began the meeting in the high school gymnasium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. I know you are all excited and anxious about the new refugees living outside the canal perimeter.” A murmur of agreement ran through the thousands gathered in the gym. “That is why we have called this meeting tonight. As many of you know, the town council has met a lot since the arrival of our new guests. We have approved a plan to deal with the refugees.” Sounds of approval circulated through the gathered crowd.
“The first order of business is housing. We have decided that we will continue to house them in the houses outside of the canal. Now, we realize that some of you now living inside the canal area still own the houses that the refugees are living in. We will respect those rights and guarantee to fund any repairs and restore all rights once a more permanent solution can be found to housing our new neighbors.” Scott heard a little discontent in the crowd.
The mayor continued. “Several of the refugees have been interviewed and many have similar stories. Most of them have walked town to town from the suburbs of Chicago and the surrounding area. Their reports tell of mass chaos around Chicago. Some of them have run into gangs. Some of them were living at some of the FEMA shelters when they ran out of food and collapsed. To sum up, things outside of our community sound pretty grim. We now believe that the crisis is something that may last a lot longer than we were originally anticipating.” The crowd hushed, hanging on the mayor’s every word. “So, to ensure that we get the most out of the supplies that we have, the council has decided to cut back to half rations, with the exception for those deemed by the medical staff to require extra rations such as pregnant women.” Discord erupted through the audience. People complained that rations were already small and monotonous. After several minutes of shouting, the mayor regained control.
“This measure of half rations will only be temporary until we can get out own food supply.”
“And just how the hell are we going to do that?” A faceless voice yelled from the crowd.
“I’m glad you asked, good sir. There are several acres of farmland within the canal perimeter that we can farm without risking any exposure. We will begin to use the town’s fuel supply to run farm equipment and break ground on these fields this week. Several of our good folks, Patrick, Jerry, and Gus, to name a few, have small farm equipment such as tillers and ATV’s that they have offered to share and run, if need be, to allow everyone to plant personal gardens in their yards. We will be turning the high school football field into farmland as well. We have conducted an inventory of seeds and materials at the co-op and will begin distributing farming packets to people as soon as the ground is prepared.” The crowd seemed to ease back from the edge it had approached earlier. This was a plan, something they could work toward. “You can sign up for supplies, assistance, and materials at my new office, starting tomorrow. We have a schedule prepared for the common fields and will work to fit in any personal requests that we can.”
“The last order of business we have to present to you tonight is the food distribution. As you know, we have been working the school cafeteria around the clock to meet the needs of ourselves and our new neighbors. Anyone wishing to volunteer to man the kitchens is welcome. Up until this point, we have been using trucks to deliver food to the refugees. With the exception of a few fights over people rushing the line, it has been pretty successful. Sadly though, this is not a sustainable option. The fuel used to deliver those supplies needs to be carefully rationed toward our farming efforts. Starting tomorrow, we will be allowing groups of one hundred refugees at a time to cross the canal and get their food at the cafeteria, just like the rest of us.” Scott expected a big reaction at this news, but the crowd accepted it. He saw from the look on the mayor’s face that he wasn’t the only one surprised.
Three days had passed since the town hall meeting. Scott watched the town grow more and more tense each day. The night after the town hall meeting had been his first chance to get the family together for a discussion. To his surprise, they shared his concern about the stability of the town. While most of Seneca’s inhabitants had taken the refugees in stride, the family had not. Scott attributed it to their escape from Lombard, seeing the various compounds overrun along the away, and witnessing Morris being assaulted. This time, he had no trouble convincing them of an escape plan should something happen in Seneca. The only dissenter was Lucy. She had grown to love the place, and why wouldn’t she? This was the first time she had felt safe since leaving Lombard. This was the place where four doctors mentored her and trained her in the basics of her new passion. “We live here now. Why shouldn’t we help if there’s trouble? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” She had asked. It had taken Scott and the rest of the family a long time to run through the possibilities with her and convince her that if something major happened, they wouldn’t be able to help anyway.
In their time in Seneca, Scott had traded some of their goods to get some supplies. They each now had a backpack with a few days’ worth of the emergency food they had been given in Lombard and some basic survival gear. Scott had removed the GPS from Sherry’s SUV and carried it in his pack. He laid out a plan for them to grab their gear and head to the south barricade, the one that overlooked the bridge across the river, if anything threatened Seneca. He figured that would be their best route of escape since the refuges clogged the north entrance. He hoped that things kept going well enough and that they would never need to use his plan.
Scott made his way into the cafeteria and saw that it was filled with people. The next group of refugees to be let through for the midday rations was due any minute now. The cooking detail prepared the grain mash and fried fish over propane deep fat fryers. Normally, these were for outdoor use, but since the power and gas lines that ran the cafeteria’s normal cooking appliances were down, the twelve fryers the town had found were the most efficient way to prepare the food.
Scott had volunteered to help distribute food today. As he approached his station behind the counter, the doors opened and the refugees entered. They mingled with the others in line. Scott recognized one of the armed men escorting the refugees as Charlie, one of the men that had helped Dr. Davidson with Danny the other day in the clinic. Scott never heard if they figured out a solution to the Danny problem. The arrival of the refuges had eclipsed everything else. He hoped he got a chance to ask Charlie about the situation before he escorted the refugees back.
As he began to fill plates with the wheat mush and fried fish from the river that would be the day’s ration, same as yesterday’s and the day before that, Scott noticed that some of the refugees carried weapons. He had been against the decision to let the refugees be armed in the secure area and had voiced his concern to the mayor. The mayor had stuck with his decision, arguing that all men had the right to protect themselves, especially since the town’s guards weren’t able to protect and police everyone.
Things progressed well until Mary Clarke came up to be served. One of the other servers assisted her several places in front of Scott’s station. The medical staff had informed the food service volunteers of Mary’s condition and gave permission for her to have extra rations. At three months pregnant, she hadn’t begun showing yet. The server gave her the extra rations. Things should have ended there, but when the server gave the man behind Mary his normal ration, the refugee questioned why she got more than he did. The server tried to explain, but the skinny, pale man grew irate. “No! You listen to me! We’ve been starving for weeks! We get here and you give us this shit and now you give her more! What makes her so fucking special?”
The yelling drew Charlie over from the door. “What’s the problem?” He asked the irate man.
“You fuckers are giving us half of what you get! All we’re asking for is the same as you!”
Another refugee approached the man, stepping out from the crowd of refugees watching the exchange. Sco
tt recognized him as Mr. Townsend, the unofficial refugee leader. “Hey, brother, calm down.” Townsend said. “These people are being very generous by giving us anything.”
“Fuck you!” The irate man yelled.
“Get to the back of the line!” Charlie said, readying his shotgun.
Before Scott realized how serious things were, the irate man noticed Charlie moving his weapon. The refugee pulled a handgun from behind his back. Townsend saw what was about to happen and stepped to stop the man from pulling his gun. He was too late. A shot rang out, and Townsend fell backward. Both Mary and the serving lady screamed. The irate refugee looked at the screaming women and raised his weapon at them. An oppressive boom shook the room. The irate refugee flew back onto the shattered glass of the serving counter, blown back by the OO buckshot from Charlie’s twelve gauge pump.
The other Seneca guards rushed to support Charlie. Because of the crowd, several of the remaining refugees hadn’t understood the entire exchange. As the initial crowd around Townsend ran to escape the violence, all the refugees in the back saw was Charlie’s smoking shotgun and two of their own bleeding out. Out of fear and confusion, maybe even anger, the refugees that were armed drew their weapons. Charlie didn’t see the new threat, but one of the other Seneca guards did. Several pistol shots rang out and two more of the refugees dropped to the ground. The remaining refugees returned fire. They didn’t pick individual targets. They just opened up in the direction of the guards. Scott estimated that there were at least ten armed refugees left.
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