In his friend’s absence he assigned Gutierrez to lead the group, with Lewis as his lieutenant in charge of the volunteers and defenders who’d be out in front. With the group well in hand, that gave Matt and the town leaders breathing room to focus on how they’d approach negotiating with the refugees to turn them back.
There were roughly four hundred rifles in town between what they’d originally had, what they’d gotten from Turner’s raiders, and the far larger number the volunteers had captured from the blockheads. After the prolonged fight with the Gold Bloc they’d used up all their grenades and Molotov cocktails, and likewise their M2s and missile launchers were either destroyed or out of ammo and had been traded to the military for supplies. They had a modest supply of pepper spray and a bit of other riot control gear, but not enough to handle even a few dozen people, let alone a thousand.
Just in case this was some trick of Rogers’s to lure out all of Aspen Hill’s defenses so he could come in and occupy the vulnerable town, Matt took only 300 townspeople with him when they were ready to leave. He left the rest of the weapons and several defenders behind, led by Jane with Deb and Grant assisting her. There were enough pistols to arm a large portion of the townspeople if those leaving to handle the refugees left behind their sidearms, but Matt wasn’t sure that was wise.
In the end he left the best balance of weapons he could to keep the town safe, while still presenting a strong show of force to the approaching mob. Although he worried for those he left behind as he, Gutierrez, and Lewis led their own mob out to meet them.
They started off at a jog until they reached the base of the valley’s western slope, and took it at a fast walk until they reached the top. There they jogged again along the slight downward slant of the road until it evened out, where he let them slow to a normal walk to let them catch their breaths and ease burning calves.
Nobody in town was eating well, and although everyone was in decent shape thanks to constant work, that work also left them worn down. It was a hard pace to maintain, but every foot they managed to go before encountering the refugees meant one foot farther from town they’d turn the men back, in case there was trouble.
Worst case scenario would be if the refugees outright attacked them and by some miracle won, took their weapons, and continued on to Aspen Hill. But it would also be pretty bad if they decided to split up into dozens or even hundreds of small groups and dispersed into the countryside. The town could find itself beset on all sides, hassled, aggravated, and forced to constantly deal with unruly intruders.
Or maybe they’d get lucky. Maybe Matt could convince these guys this was all a misunderstanding and they should head back to the refugee camp. And maybe roast geese would drift down from the sky beneath parachutes made of down comforters, and they’d all get a nice meal and a good night’s sleep.
Trev met up with them 40 minutes later, a bit more than 3 miles from town. He’d been radioing in regular reports as they ran, confirming the refugees were sticking to the road and hadn’t sent out scouts. They’d moved even slower than his friend had predicted, and while Matt still wasn’t best pleased with how close they were to the valley, at least they were farther than they could be.
On Trev’s advice they sent a dozen people in pairs out to circle around the footsore horde and watch them from all sides. The rest of the town’s show of force set up in an ideal spot along the road to confront them, waiting behind a ridgeline until the refugees got close, then in good order coming into view as a long line with three ranks.
The men below immediately halted, milling on the verge of panic as they tried to figure out what was going on. They obviously hadn’t expected to be greeted by hundreds of armed men and women, a group that was obviously far too large and well equipped to be bandits. Again Matt felt a surge of pity for the poor people, but there was no help for it.
This problem wasn’t of his making, but he was the one who had to deal with it.
At the same time that was a lot of people down there. It wasn’t as if Matt hadn’t seen crowds before, even ones much larger than this. And just days ago he’d addressed practically the whole town at the commemoration, which had been nearly this many people. Still, the knowledge that even if the refugees were friendly they presented an issue for the town, and if they were unfriendly a potential threat, made the numbers far more daunting.
Since the ragged men obviously had no intention of continuing forward, and they didn’t seem to have any leaders or representatives to send, Matt started down the road to get within shouting distance. He had a megaphone with him, but he didn’t want to be that impersonal, and he also wanted to be able to hear the refugees’ response to what he said.
He also had body armor and a helmet on, which he was grateful for as he got farther and farther from the support of his friends and neighbors lined up behind him. That vulnerability was mostly an illusion, since he was still within a hundred yards of his people and there were plenty of awfully good shooters among the defenders and volunteers. He was well covered and had a clear line of retreat if things went south.
Still, Matt couldn’t help but think of John Anderson, who’d been Mayor before Catherine, way back at the beginning when the Gulf burned. The man had gone out to confront Razor and his mob of 50 gang members as they swarmed into Aspen Hill to attack the town storehouse, and had wound up getting shot in the head for his troubles.
He sincerely hoped Trev was right and there weren’t any weapons down there. Or if there were, that his gear would protect him.
A small huddle of men separated from the group and tentatively edged forward. None spoke, so Matt called out. “Did you come from the refugee camp?”
One of the men nervously shouted back. “Yeah. We’re being sent to some place called Aspen Hill. They agreed to take us in.”
That seemed to confirm what Chauncey had told him. Matt thought a few choice epithets for Rogers as he raised his voice even louder. “I’m afraid there’s been a miscommunication. I’m the Mayor of Aspen Hill, and I was told nothing of any refugees being sent to us.”
There were murmurs of dismay and the beginnings of irritation from the refugees. They’d come a long way with no supplies, and had been depending on finding a welcoming refuge at the end of their hike. “If you didn’t know we were coming how did you have an army ready for us?” the self-appointed spokesman demanded suspiciously.
Matt shrugged and told the truth. “Good lookouts and being prepared to respond quickly.”
There wasn’t much the man could say to that, and most of the bluster went out of him. “So what now?” he asked.
Matt took a breath. “Aspen Hill doesn’t have the resources to take you in, or even provide you with food to help you get back to the refugee camp.” He was about to add “I’m sorry” and forcefully restrained himself.
Catherine had made it pretty clear that in a leadership position he should never use that term in commiseration or to empathize, since it could too easily be received as an admission of guilt or liability. Unless he, and by association the town he represented, had actually done something he needed to apologize for, those words should never leave his mouth.
Besides, there were other ways to express commiseration. “You have our deepest sympathy for your situation, and our prayers go with you. But the mistake was on the military’s end and they’ll have to fix it. We’ve already radioed them and let them know of your situation so they can send help, which will hopefully be quick in coming. Until then I suggest you turn around and start back.”
“How?” another man demanded angrily. “We were told it was going to be less than a day’s hike to where we were going, and help would be waiting for us. It’s going to be dark soon and we have barely any tents and no food. Some of us don’t even have blankets or sleeping bags, or even warm clothing. We could freeze to death out here!”