“If that’s full of food that could solve a lot of problems,” Chauncey said eagerly.
At his side Lewis shook his head. “Divide it between the five hundred or so people in the refugee camp, along with however much they want to share with the town, and you’ll be surprised how fast it empties. Not to mention the presence of food will encourage more refugees to stick around when they might’ve otherwise kept going down to Price. That aid truck could end up a net loss for us.”
“Well I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.” Turner unsnapped the radio from his belt. “Roadblock 1 to Town Hall. Get Anderson and anyone you can find from the City Council out here. FETF is out in the refugee camp and will probably be here soon.”
From what Sam could see the FETF convoy seemed to consist of 12 soldiers in the troop transport and the driver of the supply truck, who also seemed to be in charge: a short, slender bureaucratic looking man in a suit.
At the moment the two trucks were still parked on the road in the middle of the camp, the soldiers deployed in a perimeter around them while the man in the suit spoke with a handful of refugees. The refugees were led by a man who was nearly as short as the bureaucrat and looked fairly nondescript. Considering some of the burly goons in the refugee group Sam wouldn’t have pegged this guy as the leader, but he was definitely the one talking to the FETF agent.
“Not sure I like that,” Anderson fretted, peering anxiously out at the trucks. “Talking to the refugees first is going to bias them, especially since the refugees aren’t going to have anything good to say about us.”
Behind the Mayor stood Catherine Tillman, Mitch Marsh, Bert Peterson, and Charles Mercer of the City Council. That was all of them now that the fifth council member, Tom Watts, had taken his family up to their cabin in the Manti-La Sal mountains earlier in the week. That had caused quite a stir in town, since they’d left quietly and no one knew about it until they were gone. Sam heard the councilman had left a note on his front door inviting the town to give his house to anyone who needed it, and that was that.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” Councilwoman Tillman said mildly. “FETF are professionals, I’m sure they’ll take an unbiased stance.”
“I hope,” Lewis muttered from his place beside Sam, for her ears only. “But professionals or not they’re still human, and whatever the situation the plight of those refugees is going to tug at the heartstrings. Not to mention our government has a habit of taking from one group to redistribute to another.”
Sam glanced at him in disapproval, then at the Stars and Stripes hanging from the building to the left of the roadblock. Anderson had put it up as part of the welcome to FETF to show that they were still fervent US citizens, and its raising had inspired an impromptu Pledge of Allegiance from the assembled townspeople. Sam had been one of the first to join in, and she noticed Lewis had as well, so his comment seemed a bit out of place. “That doesn’t seem like a very patriotic thing to say.”
Lewis tore his gaze from the trucks to look at her. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my country, I love the people in it, and I love the community I live in. But the current government, or what’s left of it after everything that’s happened, has done a lot deserving of criticism. The first patriots had plenty to say about when any form of government becomes destructive to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Before Sam could respond, assuming she could think of anything to say to that, a shout went up from the crowd gathered behind the roadblock as the distinctive noise of engines roaring to life drew everyone’s attention back to the FETF trucks. Aside from the drivers the soldiers had fanned out in front and behind the trucks and were escorting them toward the roadblock at a slow pace, weapons held at the ready.
“You don’t think they’re going to attack us, do you?” Anderson asked nervously.
“Looks more like they’re afraid we’re going to attack them,” the councilwoman replied. She turned to Turner. “Unless you really want to fight Federal troops and think you can actually win I’d do what you can to make our people at the roadblock look friendly.”
The officer nodded and barked out orders, and the armed men at the roadblock quickly set down their weapons and moved to stand behind Turner. While they were doing that the Mayor and City Council members climbed over the cars to stand in front of them as a formal delegation.
The FETF convoy stopped about fifty feet away and the bureaucratic man driving the supply truck got out and approached flanked by two soldiers. He came right up to Anderson’s delegation and acknowledged them with a nod, but as he did his eyes remained on the roadblock, freckled face nearly as red as his hair in an expression of genuine anger. “Why are you obstructing this road?”
To his credit Anderson held his ground. “Things are bad right now. The town has a right to secure its borders.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, doing his best not to loom over the smaller man. “I’m John Anderson, Mayor of Aspen Hill.”
The FETF official reluctantly took it, looking as if he wished he could wash his hand afterwards. “Riley Ferris, Federal Emergency Task Force. I’ve been assigned to be administrator to this area.” His expression darkened further. “Why is there a camp with hundreds of starving people less than a mile from your town?”
“That would be us securing our borders,” Officer Turner called from his place behind the roadblock.
Ferris turned to look at him. “And you are?”
“Randall Turner, contracted police officer for Aspen Hill.”
“I see. So you should know that it’s illegal to obstruct a roadway and restrict US citizens from traveling on public property.” Turner opened his mouth to reply but Ferris spoke over him, nearly at a shout. “I’m not stupid, I know why you’re keeping the refugees out. That’s a lot of mouths to feed with no hope of new supplies coming in any time soon.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Anderson said, looking relieved.
The FETF administrator turned back to him. “I do. I just don’t agree. I’ve been interviewing people in the refugee camp, and wasn’t I surprised to learn that many of them are people my colleagues up north sent south to Aspen Hill as part of the FETF emergency plan that’s been in place for years.”
The Mayor gave the people behind the roadblock a helpless look. “The town voted not to accept the refugees.”
Ferris straightened to his full height, barely coming up to Anderson’s chin. “You don’t get to vote on breaking Federal mandates! Your city accepted money as part of the program. In what world do you think it’s legal or for that matter honest to sign up for something and then after you’ve received all the benefits arbitrarily decide you don’t want to keep your end of the bargain?”
Anderson opened his mouth to make some feeble protest but Ferris talked right over him. “Either way it doesn’t matter. I’m here to make sure the residents of Aspen Hill and the refugees are all taken care of until order is restored. I’ve been put in charge of this area, so you and your City Council and your police officer and his little militia will all be reporting to me.” He waved at the roadblock, then back at the two vehicles he’d come with. “And the first thing you’re going to do is tear your illegal road blockage down so I can drive this relief truck full of food into your town.”
The mayor nodded, shoulders sagging slightly in defeat, and motioned to Turner. Immediately a dozen men leapt forward to pull the cars aside, helped by the two soldiers who’d come with Ferris. As they did the FETF administrator questioned Anderson and the City Council about the state of the town, and when he learned about the town storehouse he announced that it would become the FETF base of relief efforts. From that point on all his questions focused on what supplies the town had managed to scrape together.