“A few of you know I’ve had a houseguest for the last two weeks. Now I’d like to introduce him to all of you: Mr. James Sawyer.” Mayor Petty turned to look at the door to the vestry. A man nudged it open and stepped out. With a shock, I recognized the man I had met with outside of Stockton, the one whom I had bargained with, trying to buy medical care for Ed. He had a long, red, knurled cut along his right check, held closed by dozens of neat black stitches. Sawyer strode forward confidently, but he missed the step down from the chancel, nearly flying head over heels. He stood next to Mayor Petty’s wheelchair, hands on his hips, beaming as he turned his head back and forth to take in everyone. His smile was broad, but his eyes were cold and wary.
“When I heard rumors of what he’d done,” Mayor Petty pointed at me, “I knew I needed to learn the truth. I knew you needed to learn the truth. And so I sent a team to Stockton. They brought back Mr. Sawyer here, and he tells me he’s so thrilled by our community that he wants to stay! Isn’t that right, sir?”
“Yessir!” Sawyer practically shouted.
I was instantly suspicious. I could understand wanting to leave Stockton and Red behind, but why move here? He could be spying, planning another attack. In fact I was willing to bet he had family in Stockton under Red’s thumb. I made a mental note to talk to Darla, Ben, and Uncle Paul about it later.
“Tell the good folks of Warren what you told me,” Mayor Petty said.
“I was on guard duty when this fellow,” Sawyer gestured at me, “came to trade. Wanted to buy medical care for a flenser.” A scattering of weak boos emerged from the crowd. “While we were talking, the subject of hogs came up. Fellow said he didn’t have any hogs to trade, but he knew where we could get them. ‘Thousands of hog carcasses,’ he said.” The boos were louder this time. “We’d heard rumors that you all were eating well, but we didn’t know how much pork you had ’til he came along. When I reported on that conversation, Red was mighty interested. He started planning the attack that same day.” The boos were overwhelming now, and Sawyer had to stop.
When the ruckus died down, Mayor Petty said, “Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. Now some of you might be thinking, ‘What if the Reds attack again?’ I want to assure you, that fight is settled. We licked ’em, and we still gave them three trucks full of our own supplies. We’ve got food. They’ve got food. There’s no reason for them to come back.
“I know how much effort it takes just to stay warm, clean, and healthy in these terrible times. The last thing we need is some whack-a-doodle government project to build a wall. Nobody’s got the time or energy for it. Those of you with property around the town don’t want the government taking your land for some wall.”
“I’m okay with it,” someone called from the crowd. Someone else replied, “Give ’em your own land, then. Don’t take mine.”
“Quiet down,” Mayor Petty said. “This here’s a speech, not a town hall meeting… thank you. Now if some of you want, as private citizens, to build walls on your own land, well that’s your right, and I won’t stand in your way.
“But imagine how foolish you’ll feel on that fine spring day that’s coming soon—I know it is, I can feel it in my bones—when the army will roll up here out of the East in their tanks and Humvees and put this part of Illinois to rights. That wall you spent thousands of hours building is going to look pretty silly then.” More people in the crowd nodded.
“I’ve appealed to the commander of the FEMA camp in Galena for help—several times now. And while he says it’s not part of his mission to intervene in local disputes, he’s radioed our plight to Washington. The government out East is still a going concern. The American spirit can conquer anything, even a supervolcano. And one fine day—very soon—we’re going to look to the east and see an honest-to-God sunrise.” The mayor’s tones were hushed, reverent. He had every ear in the room straining to listen. “And out of that sunrise the cavalry will ride— not on horses but in Humvees. And they’ll carry food: fresh fruit, chocolate, and coffee.” An orgiastic sigh floated from the audience. “Soon,” Mayor Petty promised again.
“Now some believe,” Petty glanced at me, and every eye in the room followed, “that we should further strain our limited resources and aching backs building a wall. We could do that. The people of Warren are equal to any task set before them by man or God. But how many will die— yes, die—in that endeavor? We have neither the equipment nor the trained personnel to build a wall.
“This foolish proposal illustrates why you should vote for experience over youth. Why you should return to office a trusted leader with almost a decade of experience leading this town. You can choose a man you know and trust or a boy who can’t even grow a proper beard yet.” That was not exactly true. I couldn’t grow any kind of beard, let alone a proper one.
“A boy who betrayed us. Vote for experience, steady leadership, and trust. Vote for the man who will hold us together until those Humvees ride out of the east. Write Bob on your ballot. Thank you.”
The applause was long and thunderous. When it died down, I stood slowly. I ignored my still-shaking hands. I had prepared a speech in which I denied Mayor Petty’s charges and rehearsed it a dozen times in front of Darla. It left my mind completely. I could not even remember the first word. The silence in the room started to grow uncomfortable, maybe even a little malevolent. I coughed, and it echoed.
“I did not betray this town. At least not knowingly. But what Mayor Petty and Mr. Sawyer said is true.” Darla winced and hid her head behind her hands. “I told the Reds there was pork in Warren.” A few people booed, but their neighbors quickly shushed them. “Or at least I confirmed it. I made a terrible mistake, and I’m deeply sorry.
“It’s a cliche, that everyone makes mistakes, but it’s also true. A teacher told me once that responsibility has nothing to do with making mistakes. Responsible people own their mistakes. They do everything possible to fix them. And I’ve done that.
“When Mayor Petty led that disastrous march on Warren, I asked him to put out scouts to flank our advance.” Mayor Petty was shaking his head in denial. “My friend Ben Fredericks told you—told all of us in a public meeting—that the attack was doomed, that we should attack at a time and in a direction the Reds didn’t expect. I realize that since Ben and his sister, Alyssa, are even newer to Warren than I am, it may be hard to listen to them. But these are hard times, times that call for a leader willing to hear good advice even from unusual sources.” Many people were nodding now. “But Mayor Petty ignored Ben’s advice.
“I listened. I organized and led the attack that invaded Stockton and gave us the bargaining power to reclaim our food. Everyone in this room has a full stomach because of that attack. Because of me.”
Someone in the audience yelled, “We wouldn’t have lost the food in the first place except for you!”
“Probably true,” I replied. “But anyone you elect—me, Mayor Petty, or the second coming of Abraham Lincoln— would make mistakes. The difference is this: I acknowledge and fix mine.
“Let me remind you: Ben predicted that our attack on Warren would fail. He also planned the attack that reclaimed our food. And now he says we need a wall. Without air power, artillery, or tanks, walled cities will rule the land. We can either build our own or be overrun.
“We’d all freeze to death if not for the wood we burn for heat. And that wood is not an inexhaustible resource. We’re going to run out. Darla and my uncle have a plan for using the wind farm to our east to provide a sustainable power source. We need resources to test and implement that plan. Resources Mayor Petty has refused to provide.