One Year After: A Novel (26 page)

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.”

“Yes, a helluva lot has happened, Dale. So either we talk here in front of the leaders of this community or not.”

Dale stood his ground and then slowly reached into the breast pocket of his blazer, drew out an envelope, and handed it to John. “Open it.” He spoke the two words as a command.

John took the envelope and then deliberately placed it on the desk, his eyes not leaving Dale. “From you, Bluemont, or whom?” he asked.

“I suggest you read it, Mr. Matherson. Then we can discuss the contents.”

John made a very deliberate display of waiting another minute before finally picking the envelope back up and opening it. He scanned the note and tossed it on the table. Reverend Black picked it up.

“That is a legal document for your eyes only, John, not a community gathering.”

“It is an arrest warrant for capital crimes,” Black announced, holding the document up. “A list of names, twenty or more, with Forrest Burnett at the top.”

John looked back at Dale. “You’ve got to be kidding, Dale. Capital crimes? Under what authorization?”

“Federal law. They raided interstate, which, even by prewar standards, brought in the federal government. They have been a threat to national security since the start of the war, and they have killed federal officers, two of them last night. That’s grounds enough.”

“I’ll grant the first point, perhaps, but you damn well better be able to prove it was them.”

“When you were their guest, they talked about raiding into Tennessee, and that is interstate.”

Just how in the hell did he know the content of any conversation while he was being held prisoner? Had Fredericks infiltrated spies in all along and knew everything that had transpired?

“My response. Last night, a column of wounded refugees was ambushed. A truck with wounded aboard, several of them children driven by a member of my community on a mission mercy, was ambushed. Your people fired first; those in the trucks had a right to defend themselves from unknown assailants.”

“Not by the report I got,” Dale snapped back sharply. “They ambushed my personnel and attacked first.”

“What kind of trial will these people get?” Black interjected.

Dale smiled. “Same one you folks gave to the Posse, the drug thieves, and others.”

“That was martial law,” John retorted. “We’re moving away from that.”

“I have not,” Fredericks replied. “The federal government is acting in proper accordance in a time of national emergency. I represent that government and demand that those listed be turned over immediately. If not willing to comply, you know what that means.”

“Whose law?” Black shouted, standing up. “You call machine-gunning kids an act of law?”

“Tragic collateral damage,” Dale said.

“Go down to the hospital, damn you, and take a look at your collateral damage!” Black cried, and for an instant, John feared the minister was about to rush Dale. In all their years of friendship, he had never heard Black use a foul word or see him so publicly lose his temper. The man stood there trembling with rage, Makala standing up to come by his side, whispering for him to sit down.

“I
am
going down to the hospital,” Dale said, features still fixed in a smile. “I know you have Burnett and most likely others on that list. I’m putting them under arrest and taking them back to Asheville.”

“No, you are not,” Makala said, emphasizing each word sharply, coldly. “They are under my care, and I will not release them, and I say that as director of public health and safety for this community.”

“And this community is under my authority, Mrs. Matherson.” Dale pointed at the document Black had tossed on the table. “You have been properly served with notification. I thank you in advance for your cooperation, and now I have to do my duty as the federal official in charge of this administrative district.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

His departure left all of them stunned, eyes shifting to John. “Stay here,” he snapped. “Reverend, call Maury at the checkpoint at Exit 59. Tell him to report if their helicopters start to lift off, and if so, send someone out to tell me. The rest of you please stay here.”

His voice carried a sharp authority, and Black got up as John sprinted for the door, Makala and Ed moving to restrain him. John hated the fact that he was trailing behind Dale, who was already out the door and shouting orders for his squad to fall in with him. It was the wrong display in public for this moment, but he had to stop him now, or in another minute, there would be a fight … and killing.

John came up to his side and actually grabbed him by the shoulder, the gesture causing one of Dale’s security team to raise a weapon.

“Step away from the director!” the man shouted. “Do it now!”

“So is that your title with them?” John asked sharply, glaring back at the black-clad trooper, that same damn sergeant.

Dale, startled with how John had grabbed him, tried to shrug John’s grip off his shoulder, but John did not let go.

“What’s it going to be, Dale?” he whispered softly. “Either I’m dead in five seconds and the rest of you are dead in ten seconds, or you and I talk this out.”

John let his glance shift to the roof of the fire station to their right, which adjoined the town hall. A dozen of his best reaction team were up there, weapons half-raised but not yet aimed.

“You drop me and, orders or not, they’ll slaughter all of you. Now I am going to take my hand off your shoulder, the two of us will smile as if there’s been a foolish misunderstanding. We walk down to the park, sit down, and have a friendly little chat. It’s your call, Dale.”

And for the first time, John could see hatred in the man’s eyes. After weeks of cat and mouse, of the smooth trained government bureaucrat, the darker gaze of the political maneuverer and climber had flashed out for a brief instant.

“Sure, John,” he whispered. “Now get your hand off my shoulder, you son of a bitch.”

John smiled and let his hand drop.

Dale looked at his troopers, and the threat clearly registered that for the survival of all, a little face saving had to be played out. “Just a brief misunderstanding. Everything is fine now,” he said with a smile.

John returned his gaze to the roof of the fire station.

“Grace, let’s not overreact. I want you and your troops to sit down and relax.”

He chuckled inwardly as the sergeant heading Dale’s security team looked up and for the first time actually noticed that a dozen trained killers, who two years earlier had been typical college students, were staring down at them with weapons raised.

“Your sergeant really is incompetent,” John whispered. “He has a shoe-size IQ, and he’d never have made it when I commanded troops, other than perpetual KP and toilet cleaning.”

John pointed toward the garden-like town square a few dozen yards away and started for it, Dale waiting an instant and then walking briskly, not wishing to lose any more face, coming up to John’s side and keeping pace with him. John motioned to a wooden bench and sat down without waiting for Dale.

“I can signal for someone to bring us something cool to drink, if you need it after that,” John said with a smile. “No booze, though, only water. But if you need some of what the locals call white lightning, I’m certain we can find a mason jar.”

The sight of the troops up on the roof when Dale had foolishly believed he had the upper hand in the middle of what indeed was John’s town had obviously shaken him. It showed John as well that this man had absolutely zero field experience. If it had been his intent to kill Dale, the entire unit would have been wiped out in a few seconds, as easily as swatting down a fly. His men might look tough in their black uniforms, but if they were indicative of what the so-called Army of National Recovery was made of, it was indeed a pathetic indicator. Up against a group like the Posse, they literally would have been dead meat for their dinner table.

Dale, obviously a bit shaken, unbuttoned his collar button and loosened his tie but then shook his head. “You didn’t fall for a drink when negotiating with me; you think I’d fall for the same?”

“Just a friendly gesture in these parts,” John said with a smile.

“You know I can’t leave without Burnett and the others on the arrest list in tow.”

“And you know I will not release them—actually, I should say in all honesty that the director of public health and safety, whose care those men are in, will not release them.”

“Oh yes, your wife. So she follows every order of yours without question, I see. Or is it the other way around?”

John actually did laugh for real. “If only you knew.” But his gesture did not break the tension.

“I have the arrest orders. They are terrorists, and you know it. You are harboring them, and in the eyes of the law, you know what that means.”

“Terrorists, Dale? I recall before the war when it became politically incorrect to use that term when it came to
real
terrorists and ironically then applied to those who were not—and look at what it finally got us.”

He gestured to the streetlight overhead, the burned-out bank at the corner, the world of silence, a nation with the electric switch thrown off.

Dale was silent.

“So is this the next step, Dale? Everyone who somehow survived the Day but is not in compliance with the central government will be branded a terrorist?”

“You had no problem executing over a hundred of the Posse. I heard their skeletons still litter what used to be a truck stop.”

“You know damn well that was far different. They didn’t even classify as human anymore. They were a satanic, cannibalistic horde gone amok, and it was kill them or be killed. And nearly all such have been wiped out since. Burnett and his people terrorists? Well, those screaming kids dying from gut shots that we took care of yesterday sure didn’t look like terrorists to me. They looked like people to me who once were fellow citizens, not like the scum I was forced to kill.”

“You and the border reivers have been at war with each other for over a year now, and one of my jobs is to clean them out. I thought you’d be glad to see me get rid of them for you.”

“Merciful God,” John snapped. “Was that the reason why? Kill them to impress me? My God, don’t tell me that now.”

Dale again said nothing.

“Or was it to intimidate all of us? You have the gunships, we don’t, so it’s time to obey?”

“It was an act of war, Matherson. We have to weld this country back together again if we are to survive. The Chinese are on our land, same with Mexico. What’s left of Russia, with a nuclear arsenal aimed and the hammer clicked, is watching every move, and it better not be one of weakness. The only thing keeping them from finishing the job is our nuke subs sitting off their coast in the Arctic and Pacific. We have to show strength within, that we are willing to do whatever is necessary to pull this country back together, or else.”

“Or else what, Dale?”

“The president herself said in the briefing to those of us being dispatched to reorganize the various administrative districts that we had an open hand to suppress any type of rebellion. We have a year to get the job done, or someone else will do it for us, and believe me, there are many who would be far more draconian than me.”

John did not reply. The classic administrator told to do the job “or someone else will,” and it was thus a lockstep to follow orders.

“The reivers, they were at war with you and then with me. So I fought war as I was told to do, the same as you did with the Posse.”