One Second After

“Well, I guess that’s the way it’s getting,” Doc Kellor said. “But Swan-nanoa does have an outreach clinic from Memorial Mission. We could use that as a medical center. They had some equipment there for minor surgeries, emergencies, and such. Also three or four doctors in your town, that would give us a total of nine doctors for the community.”

Carl nodded.

“We protected the clinic from Day One. Had the same problem you did with some druggies….” He paused. “We shot them when they were trying to escape.”

John did not ask for any details on that.

“Governance. We can’t be divided off if we agree to work together on this. Everyone is in the same boat. So, what will it be?” Charlie looked at Carl.

“I’ve known you for years, Charlie Fuller. As long as you are not tied into Asheville, I’ll be willing to take orders from you. Damn, I’ll be glad not to have to make some of these decisions.”

Charlie nodded.

“Then Carl sits on this council,” John said.

“Who are you?” Carl asked, looking straight at John.

“He’s a history professor at the college. Ex-military, a colonel with combat experience.”

John looked at Charlie. “Combat experience,” that was stretching it. “He advises us on legal stuff, moral issues, a smart man to have around.”

“So why is he here in this meeting?” Carl asked calmly.

John bristled slightly. How he had evolved into being here, well, it had simply started with his barging in, but now, after but a week, he felt the need to be here, and a purpose.

“He is the one who executed the drug thieves,” Tom said. “Let’s just say he’s our compass. Professor type but ok.”

Carl continued to hold eye contact with John and he wondered if there was going to be trouble.

“My friend Mike Vance here, then I want him on this council, too. We didn’t have a mayor like you, but he was town manager.”

John could see that Vance was someone who did what Carl wanted.

“We’re not a democracy here,” John said, “though I regret to say that. We are under martial law and Charlie Fuller is in charge. We just advise. If we are to work together, it has to be Charlie’s word that is the final say.

“Nice friend you have, Charlie,” Mike said quietly.

“Mike, Carl,” and now it was Tom speaking. “We’ve got to work together, and I agree with John. Either Charlie runs it for all of us or the deal is off.”

The room was filled with silence and Carl finally nodded.

Charlie came around the table and Carl stood up, shaking his hand.

John said nothing. The formal ritual had been played out. The kings had shaken hands and the treaty been made. It was the smart move, though he wondered if all would feel the same a month, six months, from now.

Charlie went back to his chair and sat down.

“With the extra vehicles, I know the answer already, but gas supply?”

“We just drain it out of all the stalled cars on the highway for starters,” Tom said.

“I know that, but should we start rounding that up now?”

“Wouldn’t do that,” Mike interjected. “Gas goes bad over time. You can’t get it out of the gas stations until we rig up some sort of pumps. Inside a car, though, the tank is sealed, it will stay good in there longer than if we pull it out.

“I know; I own a wrecking shop.”

Like him or not, John realized, this man’s knowledge, at this moment, might be more valuable than his own.

“All right then,” Charlie said. “Back to Asheville. Carl, you and I both got the same demand from their new director of public safety, Roger Burns.”

“Asshole,” Carl said quietly, and Tom nodded in agreement. “That we’re to take ten thousand refugees in.”

“He can kiss our asses,” Carl snapped back. “Ten thousand of those yuppies and hippies? You’ve got to be kidding.”

John noted the change the alliance had already created. Now it was “we,” against “them.” He hoped that would last.

The debate flared for several minutes, Kate leaning towards accepting it, that these were neighbors as well, that some semblance of order had to be reestablished on a county level, Carl and Tom flatly refusing.

John wondered what was going on at this moment down in Winston-Salem, Charlotte, or far bigger cities, Washington, Chicago, New York. Most likely, by now millions were pouring out, at best organized in some way but far more likely in just a chaotic exodus, like a horde of locusts eating their way across the suburban landscapes. At least here geography played to their advantage, the choke points in the roads.

He had already seized on the idea last night. Brilliant in its simplicity but frightful for all that it implied but ten days into this crisis.

He waited for a pause in the debate.

“I have a simple answer,” John said, “that will defuse the crisis without a confrontation.”

“I’m all ears, Professor,” Carl said sarcastically. “Water.”

“Water?” Carl asked, but John could already see the flicker of a grin on Carl’s face.

“Their reservoir is in our territory. The deal is simple. Lay off the pressure, send their refugees somewhere else, or we turn the water off.”

Carl looked at him wide-eyed for several seconds, then threw his head back and laughed.