Sam alternated watching them talk and watching the roadblock go down. At her side Lewis did the same. He hadn’t said anything since Ferris’s arrival, but with each moment he was looking grimmer and grimmer. “Aspen Hill’s in big trouble,” he abruptly whispered. “That man’s going to ruin us.”
She shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? Sure, Mr. Ferris may be turning the town on its head a little, but he genuinely seems to care about the refugees. I think he means well.”
The tall young man shook his head. “I strongly disagree. But even if he did mean well it doesn’t matter, does it? We all know what the road to hell is paved with.”
Sam decided to not even bother responding to that. As they watched with the rest of the growing crowd of townspeople the roadblock was fully dismantled and the trucks driven slowly through.
“One last thing before we go check out this unauthorized stockpile of yours,” Ferris said, dusting his hands off as if he’d taken part in tearing down the obstruction. “I’ve been instructed to begin a food for firearms program. Inform your people that for the next week they’re encouraged to turn in any firearms they own. They’ll be given a week’s worth of food for each one. I’d say that’s a fairly good deal.”
“In what world?” Lewis muttered beside her, almost to himself. Sam kind of had to agree: without weapons how would they defend the town, or hunt for that matter? Not to mention most guns cost way more than a week’s worth of food.
“In these desperate times there might be some willing to take that deal,” Turner allowed reluctantly. “But I won’t be, and I’ll encourage my people not to either. We need to defend the town.”
The FETF administrator’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. I’ve been assigned to oversee this area and I won’t tolerate a militia. They’re all the protection you need.” He said that last as he jerked a thumb towards the dozen soldiers he’d brought with him.
“All the same,” Turner replied solidly, “I think I’ll just hold onto my firearms, thanks.”
“Yes, you will,” Ferris smiled thinly. “As the town’s sole police officer you’re now under my direct command, as dictated by the Federal Emergency Martial Law Act. As for everyone else in this town, including your wannabe soldiers, the food for firearms program is just the carrot. If they haven’t turned their weapons in by the time the week is up they get the stick: their weapons will be confiscated without reimbursement and they’ll be put on a FETF watch list.”
“Well I’ve seen enough,” Lewis abruptly said, turning away.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, startled.
“Back home. Got some work to do.” He held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Sam. Take care.”
“You too,” Sam said, firmly returning the handshake. He seemed a lot more decent than she’d expected after hearing Mandy’s tales about his cousin, and after spending some time with him a niggling part of her wondered if the refugee woman wasn’t lying about her deal with Trev like Lewis insisted. It seemed like a horrible thing to lie about, but then again it was Mandy saying it.
She watched him walk away, winding his way along side streets to make his way northwest of town while circling well around the refugee camp. After the camp sprang up she knew Turner had collapsed the patrol routes to run just beyond the town’s limits, but even though Lewis lived beyond the roadblock the patrols still watched that area. Mostly to keep a close eye on the refugee camp, which made an odd patrol pattern that ran off the road for a ways around and beyond the refugee camp in a wide perimeter. But the important thing was that in spite of living out of town he wasn’t going into possible danger. At least she hoped: things were about to be turned on their heads and there was no guessing what might happen next.
As the convoy made its way towards Tillman’s, dragging most of the crowd in its wake, Sam made her way over to Turner. “If the roadblock is down does that mean my shift is over? I want to go tell the Larsons what’s going on.”
He sighed. “Looks that way. I guess these guys are in charge of securing the town now.” He glanced back at the refugee camp, frowning. “You know, in a way it’s almost a relief to not be responsible for it anymore. These professional soldiers are much more qualified for the job.”
Sam nodded uncertainly and quickened her pace to outdistance the slowly moving trucks, making her way down Main towards Tillman’s and her home a block away.
Ferris had just blithely announced he was taking over the town storehouse for his relief efforts, and it was obvious those efforts would focus on the refugees. What did that mean for everything the people of Aspen Hill had gathered at that location for their own needs? Was he taking it just like that, without a word of protest from anyone? Would those who’d donated be able to come and reclaim their things rather than see them go to feeding refugees the town couldn’t possibly hope to support?
In spite of the supply truck she had to wonder if the “aid” Ferris had brought was really going to help at all, or just make things worse like Lewis predicted. She didn’t like to think ill of the government, especially not when they were the only hope of putting things to rights, but she kind of wished Aspen Hill had just been left alone.
For the first time since arriving in Aspen Hill with Matt she was truly worried about the future. She hoped he’d come home soon: even if having him around couldn’t logically change much about their situation it would be a huge weight off her shoulders.
Chapter Sixteen
Homecoming
Matt had talked things over with Trev, April, and Terry, and even knowing it would slow them down significantly they’d agreed it was a good idea to leave the highway past Helper and follow back roads, some little better than dirt tracks leading to and from the foothills below the Manti-La Sal mountains, the rest of the way down to Aspen Hill.
Knowing about the refugee camp outside town they couldn’t be certain what the situation would be like after being gone for nearly two weeks, and after everything that had happened they didn’t want to take any chances. They’d approach the town from the northwest or even due west, in a direction where it was very unlikely they’d meet anyone else.
So the morning of the third day after reaching Trev’s cache, the 23rd since the attack and the 12th since leaving town to find April’s family, they guessed that they were within a few hours’ walk of home and set off at a brisk walk along the dirt road. Even the children seemed to have a spring in their step, walking without complaint. Little Paul still needed to be carried frequently, but Aaron seemed to have gotten used to walking and with three solid meals a day was doing a good job following behind with one hand holding the wagon for hours at a stretch.
It was a chilly morning, an unpleasant reminder that Halloween was only a couple weeks away and autumn was marching on to winter. They’d all broken out jackets or sweaters last night and were still wearing them, waiting eagerly for the sun to warm things up to more comfortable levels.
Two hours into the walk with only a few more hours until noon there was still little sign of that, and Matt shivered and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, wishing he’d thought to bring something warmer. “Cold today.”
Trev nodded grimly. “Could be fluke bad weather, or it could be a sign of early winter. Just what we need.”
Matt decided it wasn’t worth the effort to get on his friend’s case about the doom and gloom. “I feel bad for all the people up in the FETF camp, and for that matter in the refugee camp just outside of town. I wonder if they’ve given any thought to just how bad winter’s going to be with nothing but a tent. The cold might kill more of them than hunger.”