Ken nodded. “You’re sure no one saw her get in?”
“Pretty sure. There was one, but she got him before she went over the fence. Everyone else I saw was busy shooting at where they thought I was hiding.”
He was quiet again, thinking. “We’ll have to come back to help her bust them out.”
I sighed with relief.
In half an hour, we reached the bridge to the fertilizer plant, and Ken pulled to the side of the road and turned to the back.
“Billy, we need to send someone in on foot to let our people know that the vehicles coming in are friendly. Wouldn’t do to get shot by our own people. You mind?”
Dumbfounded, Billy just stared at Ken for several seconds. I realized this was probably the most that Ken had spoken to him since the day he had been brought to our door. It was perhaps a little gruff, but I think it was Ken’s way of apologizing. He was telling Billy that after what had happened tonight, he considered Billy an asset rather than a liability.
Billy nodded, leapt out of the back, and ran down the road.
“Hey, kid!” Ken yelled. Billy stopped and spun so abruptly that he nearly slipped on the pavement.
“Don’t get yourself shot. We’re going to need you tomorrow.”
Billy cracked a shy smile and sprinted across the bridge.
I turned to Ken. “That was damn near human of you, Ken.”
“Shut up, Lee.”
I shut up, smiling nonetheless.
When we finally pulled the vehicles into the parking lot of the Vogler Fertilizer Factory, a crowd had gathered to greet us. Word had spread as soon as Billy made it to the gate. Cindy and Debra were in the forefront, but we barely had time for a quick hug and a few reassurances before Jim herded us into his office. He had converted the office area of the plant into his personal staging area. Maps and charts from an age long gone decorated the walls. Electric lamps and fans lay piled in the corner, seen by the light of a couple of camping lanterns.
As soon as the door closed behind us, Ken and I collapsed into chairs in front of the desk. He was evidently every bit as exhausted as I was.
Jim took the seat opposite us, and I noticed that his left eye was a bit swollen from the punch I had given him in City Hall. “So what happened? I heard there was trouble.”
Ken nodded and began explaining in general what all had happened. At times, Jim or Ken would ask me to fill in some detail, but I tried to keep my mouth shut and let Ken do most of the talking. When he reached the point at which Sarah hopped the fence, I expected Jim to explode, but the mayor just sat there twiddling a pencil with his feet propped on the desk. It reminded me of the time he had questioned me after the Kindley affair. At least this time we were on the same side. The question and answer session went on for nearly an hour, with Jim asking dozens of questions to be sure he had the entire picture. Finally, he seemed satisfied.
“We figure she’ll make her move tomorrow night or the next,” Ken finished.
Jim sighed. “Well, I guess it’s really gonna hit the fan now, ain’t it?”
Ken and I were silent. No response seemed necessary.
Jim suddenly became animated. He dropped his feet off of the desk, stood up, and began pacing. “So what do we need to do to get our people out of there with as little risk as possible?”
“Let us send in some more volunteers tomorrow,” I jumped in. “Small groups like we did tonight. We can send them in a few at a time and have them set up to help her when she makes her move.”
“Ken?” Jim was the mayor, but he deferred to Ken just like the rest of us when it came to battlefield strategy.
Ken didn’t look happy with the situation, but had finally accepted the responsibility. “That’s about the only thing I can think of, too. But you have to understand something here.” He paused. “We’re going to lose some people, Jim. There’s no way around it.”
“How many?”
Ken shrugged wearily. “How many are going to panic under fire? How many are going to shoot when they should duck for cover, or duck for cover when they should shoot? We’re not talking about seasoned troops here. We’re talking about a bunch of auto mechanics and schoolteachers armed with deer rifles.
“They’re going up against guys with military grade hardware who have made killing into a way of life. On top of that, they have a tank sitting where our people will have to go right past it, and at least five others somewhere in town. Our only advantage is Sarah’s inside and knows where the supplies are, so we’ll have people shooting from inside and outside of the stadium. That will hopefully catch Larry’s boys with their pants down.” His tone left no doubt that he expected the worst.
I couldn’t help feeling that Ken was being overly pessimistic, though. Maybe it was because I had finally begun to feel like I fit in over the last year. Rejas was home, its people my friends and neighbors. They were people I had taught, worked with, and had now fought beside. We had been through a lot together, and I felt obligated to defend them against Ken’s pessimism. “Wait a sec. Let’s not forget that this last year has been pretty rough on everyone. Plenty of these folks have had to face armed outlaws on their own, and hundreds have trained with you, me, and Eric. They may not be soldiers, but they’re not your average businessman or housewife anymore, either.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe they aren’t. But they’re hardly up to military training levels.”
“Neither are Larry’s men!”
That stopped him-for all of two seconds. “What about ammunition?”
Caught off guard, I responded in stellar fashion. “Huh?”
“Ammunition… bullets. Have you forgotten? We were running low before Larry ever got here! We’ve probably used more ammunition in the last twenty-four hours than we have in the last six months.” Actually, I had forgotten, which was pretty stupid of me, since my favorite tasks at the forge were coming into prominence because of that shortage.
Ken must have seen it in my face. “Don’t worry about it just now. It’s not like we’re going to run out tomorrow. But if we end up in a prolonged fight with these guys, say a couple of weeks or so, then we may have a problem.”
He turned his attention back to the mayor, who had kept quiet during the exchange. “Look, Jim, all I can tell you is that as long as we prepare in advance, we’ll get more people out than we’ll lose. Don’t ask me for any predictions beyond that.”
Jim sighed. “Shit.”
We were all silent for a moment, each of us trying to think of something to tip the scales in our favor.
Abruptly Jim snapped his fingers. “There is a little good news, anyway. Wayne Kelley told me to tell ya’ll that he found enough ingredients in the rail depot out back to make plenty of explosives. He’s settin’ things up now.”
“Good,” Ken said. “Maybe he’ll come up with something that will make a difference.”
The mayor nodded. “Let’s hope so. Meanwhile, you boys go get some rest. If you’re plannin’ to go back into town tomorrow, you’ll need all the rest you can get.”
Ken and I rose, nearly dead on our feet. “What about you?” I asked.
“I doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight,” Jim said. “Gotta get some people organized. You go on and don’t worry about it. I’ll sleep after you’re gone.”
Too tired to argue, we left without further comment.
Ken told me he needed to walk a little to clear his head before trying to rest. I was too exhausted to do anything but nod and wish him goodnight. Then I wandered through the complex searching for my family. It was harder than I had anticipated, as we had more than two thousand people trying to find someplace to sleep in a building never intended to hold more than a few hundred. And it was definitely not designed for sleeping. Refugees were scattered all over the place, sleeping on the floor, on storage racks; I even saw one man curled up on top of the protective cage on an old forklift. There was barely room to walk.