Kawecki heard gagging sounds as one of the soldiers threw up and a horrible stench rose to envelop the hill. “I’m sorry,” Kawecki said to no one in particular. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. But it’s over now.”
Pasco had been close enough to hear. The day when every stink has been killed, he thought to himself. That’s the day when it will be over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CAN YOU DIG IT?
Capelli could see a dusting of stars through the arched openings on all four sides of the clock tower. He remembered the sense of awe he had felt staring up at the constellations from the roof of the apartment house where he had grown up. But now as Capelli looked up at glittering pinpoints of light, it was the darkness between them that captured his attention. Because if the Chimera were from another planet, what else was out there?
Capelli’s ruminations were interrupted as the ladder rattled and a man climbed up through a hole in the floor and onto the platform. He was dressed in multiple layers of clothes. “Hey, Capelli! How’s it going?”
Mike Unver had been a high school science teacher back before the Chimerans invaded, and Capelli liked him. Unver was in his late fifties. His graying hair was combed straight back, and a pair of large glasses lent him an owlish appearance. The scope-mounted .30-06 he was carrying had originally been used for deer hunting but had an even more serious purpose now. “It’s going fine,” Capelli answered. “I haven’t seen anything other than a few stray dogs.”
“Good,” Unver replied. “I could use some peace and quiet after the city council meeting.”
“It’s still in session?”
“Oh, yeah! And will be for some time. Are you going?”
“I’d love to skip it,” Capelli confessed. “But ‘people who don’t participate can’t complain.’ That’s what Susan says. So there will be trouble if I don’t show up.”
Unver grinned. “Are you sorry you tied the knot?”
Capelli shook his head. “Hell no.”
“That’s the spirit. So go down and do your duty. As least it’s warm. And Capelli…”
“Yeah?”
“Take some body armor with you. You’re going to need it.”
Capelli laughed, slung the Marksman over his shoulder, and backed onto the top rung of the ladder. It carried him down to the ground floor. A trapdoor provided access to a flight of wooden stairs and the main east–west tunnel below. From there it was a short walk to a door that opened into the recently completed meeting room.
As Capelli stuck his head inside, he saw that just about all of Haven’s adult citizens had managed to cram themselves into the standing-room-only session. And that was unusual, because most of the council’s meetings were sparsely attended. But, since the question of whether to place Haven under Judge Ramsey’s control was up for discussion, everybody wanted to have a say. And no wonder, given how important the decision was.
Capelli saw Susan on the far side of the room, and began to work his way over to her as Potter stood at the front of the chamber, speaking in opposition to the proposal.
“It would be one thing if Ramsey was a member of the executive or even the legislative branch of state government,” the ex-banker said. “Or if he was a duly appointed official of the federal government. But he’s neither one of those. Simply put, Ramsey is an ex-member of the judiciary. A man who has taken advantage of the current situation to set himself up as a warlord, violating many of the laws he swore to uphold.
“And,” Potter continued, as his eyes darted from face to face, “if you don’t believe me, ask Roger Shaw. He and his wife lived under Ramsey’s rule and were treated as little more than slaves. Ramsey forced his wife to become a spy, and after she warned federal officials that Ramsey’s regulators were about to attack, Roger and his daughter were thrown out of Tunnel-Through with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.”
Potter paused at that point as if to add emphasis to his final words. “Is that the sort of community you want to be part of?” he inquired rhetorically. “I think not. That’s why I and a majority of the city council oppose placing Haven under Ramsey’s authority. Thank you.”
The speech got a round of enthusiastic applause from those who didn’t want to give up Haven’s autonomy, and that included Susan. She gave Capelli a peck on the cheek as he took his coat off. They stood with their backs to the earthen wall. Capelli slid the sling off his shoulder and allowed the rifle to rest on the floor. Most of the people around him were armed, and had to be, since an attack could theoretically come at any moment. And the next speaker, an ex-businessman named Mel Tilson, took advantage of that fact.
Tilson had thick black hair, a dark five-o’clock shadow, and the manner of the shoe salesman he had once been. “Take a look around you,” Tilson demanded. “Is this the way you want to spend the rest of your lives? Living like gophers?”
Tilson had at least a couple dozen supporters and they shouted, “No!” in response to the questions.
“That’s what I thought,” the shopkeeper said, as if the entire room agreed with him. “If you want to live above-ground, and sleep better at night, the answer is to join forces with other people. Because there’s strength in numbers.
“Now maybe you don’t like the way Judge Ramsey’s invitation was delivered. And I agree that it could have been more tactful. But that doesn’t change the way things are. By joining up with the folks in Tunnel-Through we would have the regulators to protect us, living conditions would gradually improve, and we would receive access to the new vaccine. And that’s a big deal, my friends! A very big deal. And even Roger Shaw, who Mr. Potter mentioned earlier, admits that such a vaccine exists. So let’s take advantage of the heaven-sent opportunity to improve life for both ourselves and our children. Thank you.”
Tilson’s supporters were a lot louder than Potter’s. But once the votes were tallied, the so-called Ramsey proposal was rejected by a vote of ninety-one to forty-seven.
“You’ll be sorry,” Tilson told some of his more vocal opponents as they filed out. “Ramsey won’t let it rest. The regulators will be back. Then we’ll have to fight them and the stinks.”
“Tilson has a point,” Capelli said, as Susan and he followed the north–south tunnel home. “The regulators will be back.”
“Yes, they will,” Susan agreed as she pushed the salvaged door open. “That’s why we have to prepare for war.”
Capelli turned his flashlight off as Susan lit a succession of candles. They produced a soft glow that made the primitive space look homey. “War? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“No,” Susan replied steadfastly. “It’s logical. Once Ramsey has assimilated all of the communities that are willing to come over peacefully, he’ll use the additional strength to come after holdouts like Haven.”
Capelli placed the Marksman in the weapons rack and turned to open his arms. Susan stepped in to place her cheek against the flat plane of his chest. “We were looking for a place to live,” she said simply. “And we found one. Now we have to protect it.”
Capelli kissed the top of her head. “Don’t tell me! Let me guess. You have a plan.”
“We have a plan,” she corrected him, as she leaned back to look up into his face. “I’ve been talking to Mayor Locke, Mr. Potter, and some of the other pro-independence types. All of them agree. We need to form an alliance that’s strong enough to fight Ramsey. And that means more weapons. Because the people of Tunnel-Through are busy manufacturing their own.”