One Second After

“I’ll be damned.”

“I think we are damned if we turn off the water to Asheville,” Doc Kellor interjected, and Kate nodded in agreement.

“So do I,” John said quietly. “I don’t know if I could actually bring myself to do it. There’s a hundred thousand innocent people there, but this Burns character is playing power politics on us. But we hold the trump card. Send a message back. They still have their water but send the refugees somewhere else, that simple, no problem for them. If not, we blow the main pipe and the hell with them.”

“Maybe that might provoke them to try and seize it by force,” Kate replied.

John shook his head.

“No way. Remember the hurricane in 2004. The main pipe out of the reservoir ruptured and it was one hell of a mess. Special parts had to be flown in from outside the state to repair it. Well, after that they know how vulnerable the water supply is. We make it clear that if they make a move we blow it and they’ll never get it back online.”

“If we got that advantage, let’s press it,” Carl said. “I’ve heard they got dozens of railroad cars loaded with food and are hoarding it for themselves. We could demand some of that as well.”

“Not a bad idea,” Tom said quietly. “You might be on to something there.”

“I’m not reduced to that yet,” Kate snapped back. “Trading water for food. Not yet.”

“Nor I; just keep it to the refugee problem. I think if we demand a cut of their supplies… they’ll fight, and remember, they do have the numbers we don’t have,” John quickly interjected, “and we’ll all wind up losers.

“But regarding the refugees, let’s just say, we’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Charlie smiled.

“That’s right; you’re from New Jersey originally.” John smiled.

“They back off on the refugee issue and that water just keeps flowing.” Charlie looked around the table and all nodded.

“Tom, send a courier back today. Use one of those mopeds we got running. I don’t want to risk a car the way we did the other day.”

“A pleasure, Charlie. Wish I could see Burns’s face when he gets the note.”

“Just remember this, though,” Charlie replied. “Our sewage runs to the treatment plant in Asheville. The filtration is most likely not running, chances are they’re dumping it straight into the French Broad, but still, if they close the pipe, it backs up clear to our town here. They could shut that down in retaliation.”

“Then we threaten to dump our raw sewage right into Swannanoa Creek, which runs downhill to Asheville,” Tom replied.

“Jesus Christ,” Kellor sighed. “Are we getting reduced to this?”

No one could reply.

“All right,” Charlie said, “the big issue. Our roadblock on I-40 at the top of the gap.” He looked to Tom.

“It’s getting bad there. Like we agreed to yesterday. I had someone take a note down to Old Fort at the bottom of the mountain asking them to post a sign that the road above was closed. Old Fort refused. They’ve got seven, maybe ten thousand refugees camped there, all of them trying to get up into these mountains. They want us to let the people pass; in fact, they’re encouraging them to hike up the interstate and, if need be, force their way through. The pressure is building. There’s refugees strung out all along the highway.

“Last night one of my men shot and killed two of them.”

“What?” Kate snapped. “I didn’t hear of this.”

“Figured I’d bring it up this morning,” Tom said.

“What happened?”

“A crowd of about fifty just would not turn back. The men guarding the gap said they recognized several as folks who had been turned back earlier. They planned what they did and tried to rush us. Someone on their side started to shoot and my men fired back. Two dead on their side, about a dozen wounded.”

Kate shook her head.

“It’s going to get worse,” Tom said. “Remember what Mr. Barber said when he flew up here last week, the interstate clogged with refugees pouring out of Charlotte and Winston-Salem. Well, Charlotte is a hundred and ten miles from here, Winston-Salem about a hundred and forty. Give a family burdened down with stuff about ten to fifteen miles a day. That means the real wave is going to start hitting us today; I’m surprised it hasn’t been sooner. We might find twenty, thirty, maybe fifty thousand pushing up that road.”

“Why I wanted this alliance,” Carl said. “You’re our back door. You let them in, we will be swamped. We’ll be caught between Asheville on the one side and those folks on the other. They’ll eat us clean in a day.”

“Disease as well,” Kellor interjected.

“I thought you said we have that already?” Carl asked.

Kellor sighed and shook his head.

“Salmonella, that’s lurking in any community. I’m talking about the exotics now. Large urban population. You’ll have carriers of hepatitis in every variant. What scares the hell out of me is a recent immigrant from overseas or someone stranded at the airport in Charlotte, which is a major hub. He might look well and feel well, but inside he might be carrying typhoid, cholera, you name it.