“Trev, mobilize the defenders.”
Trev hadn’t joined the other leaders greeting the major’s convoy.
He had two dozen of his best people arrayed around the large log structure where the town’s surplus was being stored. Hundreds more defenders were waiting in cabins and stick-and-mud huts all throughout the town for his signal in case he needed them. He also had some of his most accurate shooters positioned along the lower slopes to either side of the valley, to protect the town’s leaders and the town itself if it came to it.
As for the townspeople, he’d advised them to hunker down in their homes for their own safety. Doubtless a few of them would peek out to watch the action, but if they chose to do that the risk was on their own heads.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly over the radio as he and his people watched the trucks approaching along the gravel path leading into town. It was too narrow to properly accommodate vehicles, but the drivers were managing the smoothest ride they could. “We’ll be stepping into some serious trouble if this comes to violence.”
Matt’s voice sounded cold as he answered. “You weren’t here for Ferris’s occupation, Trev. Not for the worst of it. I won’t let anyone do that to Aspen Hill again. If we’re going to have to fight for what’s ours anyway, we fight now.”
Trev glanced past the approaching vehicles to the town leaders running to catch up to what was about to happen. “Then you’d better get over here quick, just in case you can talk this down from becoming a bloodbath.”
“We’ll do our best. But that might be up to you.”
Great. Trev was confident his people could deal with however many men Rogers had brought, but the last thing he wanted was to shoot the brave soldiers who’d just spent months defending him and his loved ones from the enemy. Especially not if it meant enraging the thousands more just in this area alone that the military could call in.
Still, he’d been listening in on his friend’s conversation with Rogers, and he agreed that they couldn’t let any of what Rogers wanted happen.
“Weapons ready,” he told his people, unslinging his own rifle and holding it angled low. “But don’t so much as point them at anyone unless they do it first. And for the love of all that’s holy don’t fire a shot until I give the order.”
At his side Deb had raised her pistol. It shook slightly in her hands. “What if they shoot first?” she whispered. “What if they shoot you, and you can’t give the order?”
Trev really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Then defend yourselves.”
That was all he had time for before the lead truck rumbled to a stop ten feet away. Twenty soldiers immediately boiled out of all the vehicles, forming up behind the cover their trucks provided with their own weapons ready. At least they weren’t pointing them at anyone either, and they didn’t look particularly happy about the situation.
As for their cover, it wouldn’t help them if it came to violence considering they were in the middle of hundreds of defenders hiding in the surrounding houses.
Rogers stayed in the cab of the lead vehicle, speaking through a built-in public address system. “Stand down, people of Aspen Hill. This doesn’t have to turn ugly.”
Trev raised his voice loud enough that the man could hear it through the glass. “I’d say that’s on you, given you’re the aggressors here.”
That seemed to be all the talking the man was willing to do. He gave a terse order through the PA system, and a score of rifles reluctantly raised to point at Trev and his defenders. Trev stiffened, but before he could raise his own weapon or give the order for his people to do the same there was a shout.
Both groups turned to see the 28 veterans the town had taken in, dressed in their uniforms but unarmed, moving to put themselves between the convoy and the defenders. Even the crippled and seriously wounded were there, supported by their friends.
“What’s wrong with you?” Carrie Grant, near the front of the group, shouted. The scarred, half-blind woman wasn’t talking to Rogers but to the soldiers around the trucks. “You’re pointing guns at the people we swore to protect!”
The soldiers exchanged guilty looks. Most had already lowered their rifles, and the few that hadn’t quickly did so.
Just like that the tense atmosphere was broken, and Trev felt a surge of relief. When the veterans had offered to help earlier he’d insisted he couldn’t ask it of them, but apparently they’d decided to get involved anyway. And it looked like that was just what the situation needed.
Rogers addressed the wounded and crippled men and woman, sounding angry. “You swore oaths to obey orders, but here you are siding against your brothers-in-arms and making a bad situation worse! Stand aside so we can do what we’ve come to do.”
“All due respect, Major, but we’ve been discharged from service with honors. We’re all civilians, and citizens of this town.” That was Derek Withers, leaning against another veteran beside Carrie. The man had lost his right leg at the hip and wasn’t properly healed enough to be putting his weight on the prosthetic he’d strapped on. It pained Trev to see him standing when every second had to be agonizing.
The soldiers who’d come with Rogers were looking distinctly uncomfortable at this point. So much so that when Rogers’s voice crackled through the public address system, ordering them to usher aside the unarmed veterans and resume their firing positions, nobody moved to comply.
Into that awkward silence Matt and the other town leaders finally arrived, to Trev’s relief. His friend took one look at the situation and then turned not to Rogers but to the soldiers with him, addressing his words to them.
“I have nothing but respect for all of you,” he said firmly. “You risked your lives to defend us, went through hell and watched friends die for our sake. Many of you were wounded mind and body to keep this town safe, and that’s a sacrifice we can never repay.”
Matt raised his voice, every inch the Mayor. “The last thing we want is to turn our weapons on you, and we’ll only do it to defend ourselves. But we can’t let you take food we desperately need. It would be as good as murdering dozens or even hundreds of our friends and neighbors. Please, ask yourselves if you’re in the right here, if you really want to harm those you risked your lives to defend, just to follow the orders of a corrupt bureaucrat.”
Rogers finally decided that staying safe in the cab of his truck wasn’t inspiring his troops. He hopped down to face off against Matt, glaring murder. “I’m a Major in the United States Air Force!” he bellowed. “I earned my rank through hard work, sacrifice, and dedication to my country! You’re nothing but liars and thieves willing to kill US soldiers over a few stale donuts!”
Matt ignored him, eyes on the soldiers. That’s where Trev’s eyes were, too. It definitely looked as if Rogers wasn’t going to get his way here, but if the camp coordinator ordered his men to simply shove the veterans and defenders aside so they could take the food, Trev doubted either he or Matt would be able to bring themselves to order their people to open fire.
The situation would probably devolve into a fistfight, and that would be bad for Aspen Hill. Men who might balk at shooting civilians might not feel quite as squeamish about bludgeoning them down, if they felt like they weren’t completely the aggressors. And in that sort of chaos a fistfight might turn into a firefight after all, especially if Rogers’s men were on the losing end and felt there was no other choice.
But the major hesitated, considering what to do, and in that tense silence a young private stepped out of line and slung his rifle back over his shoulder. Expression determined, he turned to face his superior officer. “Sir, in good conscience I can’t be part of this.”