Then Ed Larson, Matt’s dad, surged to his feet from his place beside his wife up in front. “Years ago?” he shouted. “Why didn’t you ever tell us about this?”
Anderson fidgeted a bit. “It was a budgetary matter.”
There were a few murmurs of disbelief at that. “Bringing in refugees when we’re struggling to survive a disaster is a budgetary matter?” Mr. Larson demanded. “Then what did you do with the money to prepare to accommodate all these people?”
The Mayor turned a beseeching look back at the expressionless City Council behind him, but they may as well have been statues for all the help they offered. The tall, charismatic man was normally fully in control of things, but then again he’d probably never had to face his constituents and admit he’d royally screwed up. “We, um, diverted the funds to other important projects.”
That finally got a response from the crowd, a sort of building roar of protest and anger. Trev found himself on his feet along with a few others and couldn’t help but shout. “So in an emergency you just planned to fob the refugees off on us while you spent the money? There are millions of people in the cities up north!”
Trev wasn’t the only one shouting, but his words got a few encouraging cheers from his neighbors. Anderson patted the air, trying to soothe the crowd. “Now, now, it’s not going to be like that,” he insisted. “We were only assigned a few hundred people, and it’s not like we’re alone. All the other towns in rural areas made the same deal with the Feds so they’ll help share the load.”
He might as well have been shouting into a hurricane as the auditorium descended into chaos. People were shouting over each other, Anderson kept pounding the podium and sending bursts of feedback into the mic when he tried to talk over the noise, and even the City Council had begun fidgeting nervously at the uproar.
Finally Lewis stood up next to Trev and put his fingers to his lips. Trev barely managed to cover his ears in time before his cousin’s piercing whistle cut through the noise. The tumult died down, mostly because everyone was looking around to see who’d made such a racket.
In the silence Lewis spoke calmly. “First off, with no supplies being trucked in everyone in the cities will be migrating out to rural areas in search of food and to escape the desperate violence of starving people. However many people you agreed on with your secret deal I can pretty much guarantee we’ll be dealing with thousands or even tens of thousands more. If not us then definitely Price, and that’s too close for comfort.”
The noise started up again at that, mostly in agreement, but Lewis raised his voice to a shout to keep going. “You all know that the claims of rural towns being full of food is mostly a myth. We may have a few farms and animals around here, sure, but our main crop is hay and while we do have some sheep a lot of our animals are horses. We’ve relied on trucks bringing in food every bit as much as the cities have. Now that the trucks have stopped I’d be willing to bet half the people in town are already going hungry, or will be soon. Aspen Hill is facing a hard winter. We’ll be lucky if we survive to spring, and although we all know it intellectually I don’t think any of us really comprehends just how terrible starving to death is.”
There were a lot of agreeing shouts as Lewis continued. “And after we survive this winter we still have to figure out how to survive beyond that point. Even if we did just have to deal with the few hundred refugees the Feds send our way it would be too many. A few dozen would be more than we can handle.”
His cousin’s calm, rational words seemed to have hit home, and although they produced an agreeing murmur the chaos mostly died down. “A gloomy prediction,” Anderson admitted, “but you might have a point. What you failed to mention is that the government will have things sorted out long before winter. The refugees we bring in will only be temporary.”
“How will they sort things out?” Lewis demanded. “Even if the economy hasn’t collapsed and there’s no rioting in every city across the nation with millions of people starving to death, where would the government get the fuel to start shipping what we need again? The Gulf refineries provided most of our fuel after the Middle East Crisis, and with them gone we have nothing else.”
“The Gold Bloc will lift their oil embargo when they see how bad things are for us,” the Mayor said, not sounding too convinced by his own words. “Or the government will think of something.”
“None of that matters and this isn’t really the time to argue any of that,” Mr. Larson cut in impatiently. He was one of the few people still standing. “Lewis is right that if we don’t get help we’re in serious trouble, so for now we should prepare for the worst and assume we’re on our own. Maybe for the long haul.”
Lewis nodded, throwing the older man a grateful look. “Which is why the only thing we can do is turn the refugees away.”
Trev knew the suggestion was coming, and he hated hearing it now as much as he’d hated hearing it the first time his cousin had made it. Unsurprisingly the auditorium immediately filled with voices of dissent and even a few boos.
“Impossible!” Anderson spluttered, his earlier chagrin replaced by outrage. “We promised we’d take those people in. We accepted Federal funds! Besides, we couldn’t call ourselves Christian if we turned away people in need.”
“If we offer to feed everyone who comes to us we’ll all be starving in weeks, including those we try to help,” Trev interrupted in support of his cousin. “Besides, we didn’t promise to take refugees in. We didn’t accept Federal funds! I’m not starving to death this winter to keep a promise you made that I didn’t even know about. If you’ve got some magical store of food and shelter for hundreds of people that’s one thing, but don’t try volunteering our food and houses.”
Lewis’s suggestion to turn away the refugees had gotten a bad reception, but Trev’s arguments got a bit of grudging approval. To drive the point home Mr. Larson spoke up as well. “It’s a terrible thing to contemplate, but I’m afraid the boys might have a point. I’m all for helping those we can, but we won’t help anyone if we give what we don’t have. We’ll just be in the same boat as those who come to us.”
Anderson’s expression had turned anguished. “I hate it. I hate the thought. A lot of us have got friends and family up north. They’re all people just like us. Do we want to let them come all this way and just leave them to die outside our city limits?”
“Not our city limits.” That was Randall Turner, the town’s lone contracted police officer, who’d spoken. “There’s too many potential problems with having a bunch of starving, desperate people a stone’s throw from the town. In a way it’s lucky we’re surrounded by mountains and tall hills with only three roads in that we can set up roadblocks on.”
“So not just turn desperate, hungry people away, but put armed men on our borders to do it with threats of violence?” Anderson said heavily.
“Welcome to reality, Mr. Mayor,” Turner replied. “Desperate people won’t politely go somewhere else when asked. Especially not if they’re following emergency evacuation orders to come specifically to our town.”
“And what if the Federal government comes around asking why we’re turning away refugees we promised to help?” Mr. Marsh, the City Councilman sitting right behind Anderson, called out.
Turner didn’t seem to have an answer for that, and a somewhat awkward silence fell. Trev felt like he should say something in support of their position. “Then we’ll still be alive to explain our decision when they finally get here. I have nothing but sympathy for the plight of the refugees, and nobody can argue that their situation isn’t going to be terrible. We should help them as much as we realistically can, but that’s the thing. How much, realistically, can we help them when we’ll be lucky to survive this winter ourselves?”