“I know; I was going to make the call. But you know what that means. Release of medications requires authorization, and Asheville then knows we’re taking care of the wounded.”
“Yes, and tell that son of a bitch to come down here and take a good look at his handiwork.”
She kissed him again on the cheek and then went into the hospital. John looked at those of his community, many of them in line to donate blood.
“I need volunteers. Drivers for these trucks. There’s more wounded back in their camp, and we got to get them in here. Two medics to go with each truck. I’ll drive one of them.”
Ed came up to his side, shaking his head. “John, you’re staying here.”
“The hell you say.”
“John, be a leader again. You put your ass on the line once too often for any of us to sit back now. The shit will most likely hit the fan with Asheville when they find out what we are doing. Besides, I hunted the woods since I was a kid and know every fire lane and back trail. I’ll lead them back.”
To his surprise, a couple of the Stepps came forward to stand with Ed.
“Sons of bitches,” one of them growled. “Someone tangles with someone we have fun squabbling with, it isn’t right with us. Okay to shoot at each other man to man, but kids and women like this? We know the trails better than anyone. We’ll get their wounded out.”
Before he could argue any further, Ed and the Stepps were getting into the trucks, and volunteer medics were piling into the backs, calling for additional supplies of bandages, clean bottled water, and gear.
John stood silent, filled with pride, and watched them head out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“John, they’re coming.”
It was Maury, who was up at the Swannanoa roadblock just west of Exit 59.
“What do they have?”
“He’s in a Humvee, a deuce and a half with a lot of heavy weapons on board following, and that’s it.”
“Okay.”
“John. He’s got a helluva lot of backup just over the hill. I got a watcher down at Exit 55 who just reported in. A dozen trucks, half a dozen Humvees with Kevlar armor curtains, and get this, they got a Bradley.”
“A what?”
“You heard me straight. A Bradley, a big honking armored personnel carrier. My watcher says a kid came in on a moped by back roads reporting that all four helicopters are prepped, warmed up, and ready to lift off. He’s loaded for bear, John.”
“But just the Humvee and one truck for now?”
“That’s a rog, John.”
John could not help but smile. Fredericks was at least showing some nerve.
“Okay. No hassles. Let them through.”
“You sure, John?”
“Time to talk, Maury. It’s just time to talk and pray it stays that way.”
“It’s your call.”
John put the phone down and smiled at the town council gathered in his office. “We wait here,” John said. “But please, let me do the talking. Okay?”
He looked straight at Makala, who had not had a wink of sleep since the morning before. She had a lab coat on, and it was splattered with blood. He gently tried to suggest that she change but was met with silence and knew not to press the issue. Reverend Black was hollow eyed, obviously in shock. More wounded had come in just before dawn, brought back by Ed and his volunteers, most of them lightly injured, the trucks having been sent back, using town gas, to pick them up, parents of children who had been brought in with the first load making the trek, and Black had to perform the grim task of telling a number of them that their child was dead. The trucks also had four dead on board, and only five vehicles had returned. Slipping across the parkway at night, the last vehicle was ambushed, apparently by troops from Asheville, and it burst into flames, one of the Stepps dying in the ambush.
The way Reverend Black looked at John when he asked that all hold back from the conversation was chilling. Black had been a pillar of strength for the community ever since the Day. He had never fired a shot in anger, but he had presided over hundreds of funerals, he and his wonderful wife, Portia, taking the nursing and then physician assistant courses. They had bravely stood in with every emergency, included the dreaded epidemics that had swept the country in the year after the collapse, and were the moral strength of the community. The two of them were all so crucial to John and his family in the weeks after Jennifer died, stopping by every day to pray with him and offer comfort. And now John could see that long-suppressed anger was about to boil over.
He heard the vehicles pull up into the parking lot and now looked at Black. “Please, my friends, this might be our last chance to talk this thing out and prevent more killing, so let’s stay calm,” John whispered as he stood up to look out the window.
Dale, wearing his usual blue blazer, shirt, and tie, was getting out, and a dozen troops, heavily armed, were piling out of the back of the truck. John had wisely ordered his troops to form a cordon on the far side of State Street, directly in front of the hospital, so the parking lot was empty of any armed response and the potential of an immediate confrontation. There was enough rage on his side that he feared a Lexington Green incident of someone intentionally or accidentally triggering a firefight.
The troops with Dale looked around cautiously, a sergeant, yet again the same one John had taken such an intense dislike for, was leading them. Dale said something to him, and the group spread out a few feet and formed a cordon around the two vehicles. Dale waited for a moment, as if expecting a welcoming committee or some sort of formal greeting, and it began to drag out.
“Oh, damn it, this is ridiculous.” John sighed but did not move. Then finally, in frustration, he rapped loudly on the window. Dale looked over to him, and John just pointed to the front door, motioning for him to come in.
Dale, features flushed, waited another minute and then finally came into the building. Elayne, remaining at her switchboard, stuck her head out the door of her work cubical. “You want John? He’s in his office down that way,” she announced icily as Dale came through the door, and then she returned to work, doing exactly as John had ordered—acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring with Dale’s visit.
John had left the door cracked open, and Dale pushed it open, coming in. “John, just what the hell—” He fell silent at the sight of the rest of the town committee silently gazing at him. “I’d prefer we talked alone.”
“What you have to say to me you can say to them, as well. They’re the town council and have a voice in all decisions here.”
“This is private between us.”
“It became very public yesterday.”
“I insist we talk alone, and I’ll have time later for the rest of you.”
“It doesn’t work that way here, Dale.” There was a moment of silence, and then John smiled. “And besides, if I take that commission, it will be these folks here who will be running this town after I’m gone. And if Ernie Franklin is on the town committee after I’ve left, you’ll really have your hands full.”
Dale took that in as several of those gathered actually chuckled, the tension easing for just a brief moment with mention of Ernie, who had insisted upon sitting in on this meeting whether he was on the town council or not.
“We have to talk about that commission now, too, John. A lot has happened since yesterday morning. And I think that topic is still private between you and me.”