by Hunt, Jack
“I’m Beth.”
“Beth. And this is…” she gestured to the dog who strangely enough wasn’t growling. Nearly everyone they’d met who had turned out to be a threat, the dog had growled at.
“Grizzly.”
She smiled and looked at Landon.
“You with that group?” Landon asked.
“I’m a part of this community if that’s what you mean. Regardless, you are in my home so I would ask you to lower the gun.”
“Can’t do that.”
He got up and crossed over to where she was but kept his distance. He just wanted to check that there wasn’t anyone downstairs. “I live alone. And they won’t come here.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain but again, you need to put the gun down.”
Beth gave a nod. Landon was still reluctant. He lowered it to his leg but didn’t put it away. “How about we all go downstairs? You both look famished.”
“You have food?” Beth asked.
“I hope so. The last time I looked it was there this morning.”
Although Landon wasn’t comfortable, it only made sense to head down. If it was a trap, he was prepared to fight his way out.
10
Sam thought Mick Bennington was up to his old tricks again when he got the call over the radio. “Sam, this is Jake, you copy, over?”
He rolled over in his bed and reached for his radio. Sam glanced at his clock. Six thirty in the damn morning. He’d only had five and a half hours sleep as he’d got in late from Sara’s and was hoping to sleep in. What on earth was so urgent that he would contact him at this hour? He took a second to wipe sleep dust from the corners of his eyes before replying, “Copy, Jake. Go ahead.”
“We got a problem down at the docks. Bennington and ten of his pals showed up here in full military fatigues, barking orders and having fishermen put a good portion of their catch in the back of a Humvee.”
It took Sam a second or two for what he said to sink in.
“You want to run that by me again?”
“Just get down to the docks and fast. This is getting out of hand.”
“Jake. Jake!” Sam said but he got no reply. He crossed the room and went into the bathroom to relieve himself in the toilet before taking a large bucket of rainwater and flushing it away. He hurried into the bedroom and slipped into his police uniform. One sniff of it and he nearly threw up. It badly needed to be washed but he just hadn’t got around to it. He put on his duty belt, and nearly tripped as he hurried out the door then realized his boots weren’t on. Sam yelled loudly into the air, frustration getting the better of him. He hated early mornings and nothing pissed him off more than waking to hear that Mick was causing trouble. He could only imagine what he was up to as he collected his boots and hurried to a horse tied up in his backyard. After losing their vehicle to a vandal, he and Carl had opted to use horses courtesy of Arlo Sterling. It wasn’t the fastest transportation but it did the job.
He stroked the black mane and climbed into the saddle. The horse snorted as he set off towards the town dock. It was a good ten-minute ride from his home which was located at the end of Turner Point Road. It was a solitary waterfront property that he’d nabbed up at a bargain price after the home went into foreclosure. Sam breathed in the crisp morning air and relished the last few minutes of silence. He was getting tired of locking heads with Mick but even if he could arrest him, they no longer had room at the jail in Ellsworth.
Sam looked out across Castine, wondering what would become of the town if the military decided to move ahead and bring into effect FEMA’s plan. Everything they’d worked so hard to achieve would fall by the wayside. The only reason it had worked so far was because it was fair. The moment they were required to give up a portion of their catches to the government, things would change.
Maybe Carl was right. Perhaps the best thing to do was to hang up the uniform, crack open a beer and take to the water to spend his days fishing. As it stood their hands were tied on what they could or couldn’t do. They were at the mercy of the town. A recent visit to Ellsworth had confirmed the worst. There was less staff to oversee the jail and the conditions were bleak.
Now that they were five and a half months into the event and no one was offering to help local law enforcement, Sheriff Wilson had called a meeting to discuss the situation with the remaining officers and let them know that he would fully understand if anyone chose to stop assisting the community they were assigned to. A few handed over their badges and walked out, leaving only five willing to continue. Sam knew that would decrease even more over the following months now that Wilson was telling them that they couldn’t send any more people to the jail as there was no room.
As Main Street curved down to the dock, he took in the sight of a crowd gathered around a large Humvee that was positioned nearby with multiple people in army fatigues. He recognized them as Mick’s guys. “Shit. What is he up to now?”
At first he thought that perhaps the military had rolled into town to move ahead with their plan of forcing fishermen to give up a portion of their catch and that Mick’s men had turned up to confront them. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sam gave the horse a nudge and rode right into the midst of the commotion.
“What the deal?” he asked as he dismounted and Jake elbowed his way through the crowd.
“I think you should hear it from Mick.”
They made their way through to the rear of the Humvee just in time to see Mick lash out at Pete Barnes, one of the most active fishermen in Castine. His company had been the backbone of the community for the longest time. “Hey!” Sam yelled hurrying over to get between them. “You want to tell me what is going on?”
“Ah, Deputy Danielson,” Mick said in his usual smug tone. “I’m glad you can join the party. You’re just in time for the best part. We’re here to collect for FEMA.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, gesturing to a few of his men as they carried a large cooler over to the Humvee. Sam reached out and lifted the top to see the contents. It was full of fish encased in ice.
“He’s stealing from us,” Pete said.
“Under the authority of the United States government all catches of fish will be subject to a 50 percent contribution.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh but I can.”
“No I mean, who gave you the authority?”
“The town manager. I would have thought you were privy to that.” He paused and smiled. “Oh that’s right, you can’t be trusted now.”
“What?”
“Step out of the way, deputy, you are slowing the progress of my men.” He turned towards the crowd and got up on the Humvee. “Just as you paid tax to the government. This is a form of tax. You are no longer able to contribute from wages, but consider what you catch your wages. We are just here to collect on behalf of FEMA.”
Sam was dumbstruck.
“He can’t do that, can he?” Jake asked.
“Not while I’m overseeing this town,” Sam said climbing up onto the Humvee and drawing his service weapon. No sooner had he taken it out than all of Mick’s guys raised their rifles at him.
“Oh deputy, I would be very careful what you do next.”
Sam stabbed his finger at him. “You are not in charge.”
Mick was as cool as a cucumber. He smiled back. “You’ll find we are. Speak to Teresa. In the meantime I would advise you to holster your weapon. I can’t be held accountable for what these men will do if you don’t. We have our orders.”
Sam could smell the whiskey on his breath.
Jake had his rifle at the ready, as did three of the people they’d deputized over the past week, but he wasn’t looking to get into a gunfight in the middle of a public place. There were too many innocents and Mick was crazy enough to let bullets fly.
He jumped down from the Humvee and Mick’s guys went back to collecting. It was a heartbreaking sight. Not everyone had caught th
e same amount and yet 50 percent was taken even from the little they had. At least taxes had a system, a means of determining how much each person had to give, this was just abuse. While he understood the need for the country to work together, there were ways of going about it. He figured the military themselves would show up, not use locals to do their dirty work. There was meant to be some back and forth over the next few weeks on how to roll out the plan in a way that didn’t get the community’s back up. Teresa had lied.
As Sam squeezed through the crowd, those around him asked him if they could do this and all he could do was reassure them that he would look into getting this resolved as quickly as possible, and for now let them take it.
It was another hour before Teresa showed up at Emerson Hall. Sam had been waiting outside because the doors were locked. Of course her vehicle was still working but was she willing to let them use it, nope. “Deputy Daniels. Just the man I need to see.”
He rose from his seated position on the steps. “Why did you lie to me?”
“Lie?” she said. She took a bag out of her trunk and juggled it while she reached into her handbag for a set of keys.
“You said that you would be alerting me to when FEMA planned on implementing their plan and then I find out today that Mick Bennington has been placed in charge.”
“That’s right,” she said twisting the key in the lock and strolling in. He followed in her shadow. “The decision was made late last night by Harris.”
She led him into her office and dropped her bag beside her desk and took a seat. He remained standing. “Whatever happened to let’s roll this plan out slowly? Whatever happened to let me speak to the community first? You know we nearly had a riot on our hands.”
“I’m sorry about that but FEMA has needs right now and as a coastal town we have a responsibility to contribute to the effort.”
“Oh spare me the bullshit. There are ways of doing this. You don’t just agree to one thing then charge ahead the next day doing something else without making that known. I had people asking me if he could do this. When I tried to stop him his guys raised their rifles at me. Now what kind of message does that send this town?”
She lowered her head and breathed in deeply. “Like I said. A decision was made and our job is not to question why.”
“Really? Tell me something, Teresa. Would you be pissed if people who earned more money than you were taxed at the same rate you were?”
“What are you getting at, deputy?”
“Pete Barnes might be able to handle a 50 percent cut on his catch as he hauls in huge loads of fish but small-time fishermen should not be gouged at the same rate. There needs to be order to this. That’s why you can’t just charge in there like a bull in a china shop and expect them to hand over what they have caught.”
“Lower your voice, deputy,” she said removing her glasses. “You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t bring up that point with Harris? This town is no longer under the authority of the county, the U.S. government is overseeing all decisions. I have to go through Harris from now on. How do you think that makes me feel?”
He snorted. “Please. Next you’re going to tell me that you’re suffering. And yet we all know about that nice big cache of supplies in your home. Yeah. Jake told me. Now that gets me wondering. Where have you been getting that? The stores don’t have any. The emergency supplies that the town had are gone.” He paused. “It makes me think that you have been in bed with FEMA for far longer than what you have let on.”
“Deputy.”
“Don’t!” he said. “I know how this works. I know this is nothing but a power move. You knew full well that placing Mick Bennington in charge would piss me off.”
“I didn’t place him in charge. Stop your accusations. Harris did.”
Sam shook his head. “As if he knew him. Bullshit. Harris would have asked you who besides me did you think was capable of handling the collections. I am the deputy of this—”
“Not anymore you’re not,” she said cutting him off and standing to her feet. “After that little fiasco in front of the colonel, I was given the unfortunate job of informing you that your services will no longer be needed. That also goes for Carl.”
His jaw dropped.
“And before you say I can’t do that. It’s already done. Harris has spoken with Wilson. You are relieved of your duties.”
He scoffed. “How are you going to protect this town?”
“Oh you thought Mick and his group were only going to be handling collections? That Humvee out there is for use in this town. The baton has been passed to Mick.”
“You are joking. No. I want to hear this from Harris.”
“He won’t be here for another week. At which time he will assess the situation and make adjustments as necessary.”
“Teresa. This is madness. You saw what Mick nearly did to that man. He would have—”
“A man who was at fault, deputy. It’s already been proven.”
“What, by DNA? Or by the court of Mick?”
“By the testimony of the young girl who was raped.”
He scoffed. “So that’s the new form of justice, is it? Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“We are living in very different times.”
“You’re right about that. You are making a mistake, Teresa. Mick will be the downfall of this town. Taking orders from that asshole will cripple this community. But I guess that doesn’t matter as long as your needs are met.”
She scowled. “As much as I don’t like Mick’s approach, he is good at following orders and right now that’s all FEMA wants. They don’t want troublemakers and—”
“They think I’m a troublemaker.”
“I wasn’t going to say that but…”
He shook his head and placed his hand on his duty belt.
“I was told to collect your badge and firearm,” she said. “Leave them on the desk here before you leave.”
Sam took out his badge and tossed it down. “You can have that but tell Harris, if he wants this, come and get it!”
Teresa pursed her lips.
Sam turned to leave. He made it to the door but when he opened it, he came face to face with four of Mick’s guys. “I told Harris you would say that, so he took the liberty of giving Mick some additional instructions.”
“You bitch.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
Sam gritted his teeth as he handed over the weapon to Holden Whitefield, a close friend of Mick’s, a man with a tainted track record of his own. He cast a glance over his shoulder one final time at Teresa and then shouldered his way through the four men.
11
Landon finished the plate of bacon, beans and eggs in record time.
He hadn’t tasted food this good in months. Abigail sat across from them, nursing a cup of coffee. She had this smile on her face as he wiped bean sauce with fresh buttered toast. “You were hungry. There is more where that came from if you’d like some more.”
He washed down the last bite with a glass of orange juice, still keeping his handgun leveled at her under the table. Abigail asked if she could give Grizzly a few rashers of bacon, and Beth nodded. She tossed three pieces to the dog and he swallowed them without even chewing.
“How do you still have food after five and a half months?” Landon asked.
“This is a tight-knit community. It also wasn’t the first time we’d had a blackout. We learned our lesson a long time ago that if you fail to prepare you suffer. Several of the town council members are ex-military. They came up with a program similar to the ones you see at Christmas.”
“Program?” Landon asked.
“C’mon, you must have seen them. Many of the large chain grocery stores around Christmas give shoppers a way to donate to those in need by buying a few extra cans or purchasing a bag of groceries. It’s a one-time event that usually does well. Anyway, we decided to do something like that on a smaller scale; an ongoing way for
the community to donate a can here, a can there toward our town’s emergency program. We’ve had that running for over three years.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So, you can imagine how much canned and dry food we accumulated in that time. Sure, a good portion of it has passed its expiration date but it’s food nonetheless.”
“So the community donated this?”
“Yeah, think of it like when you go through the checkout at the grocery store. Quite often they will ask you, do you wish to donate two dollars to the Diabetes Foundation — or whatever charity. Most people do it. It’s not much to ask and most agree. Look, it wasn’t mandatory and the town council sent out flyers to every home to let them know in advance that we were rolling out the program. It wasn’t exactly foreign. People were already trained to donate, if you can call it that.”
“That’s pretty smart.”
She leaned back in her seat. “Well it’s not rocket science and it’s easy to implement. The only hurdle is getting people to donate but so many of the people in our community were either directly affected by the blackouts, or knew someone close who was, that it only made sense to have something in place that would benefit the community.”
Right then the back door opened and an unshaven man with a rifle slung over his shoulder poked his head in. “You good?”
“We’re doing fine, Ryan. Thank you.”
Unbeknownst to them, while she was outside cooking up food on a charcoal grill, she’d invited a few of the people who were searching for them to come inside and meet them. At first, Landon thought it was an ambush and rose to his feet ready to squeeze off a few rounds. Fortunately Abigail was quick to reassure him that they were safe and she’d only done so to allow them to return to their posts.
Ryan ducked back out and Landon turned back to her. “What’s the deal in this town?”
“With what?”
“We’ve traveled through a number of communities and this is the first we’ve come across where you seem to actually be working together.”