Which was why The Store's candidates would probably win.
He couldn't understand why the prospect of having The Store control Juniper's government didn't scare people more. Sure, the corporation's big bankroll and the promises to cut taxes and fund programs with private rather than public funds sounded inviting on the surface, but even a casual examination of that revealed its flaws. Or at least it did to him. Because whoever controlled the money controlled the power. If services were financed with public funds, specific fees allocated for specific projects and decided upon by the people, the people were in charge. As they should be. But if The Store paid the bills, The Store got to call the shots.
That to him was truly frightening.
He was leery as well of this three-man council idea. The more diversity the better, he'd always felt. The more voices heard in a government -- any government -- the better the representation. But there'd been a town meeting at the high school last week, and by an overwhelming vote the attendees had decided to scale back the size of the council from five to three. At The Store's behest, the town charter had been amended for the first time in its history, and he did not see that as a good sign.
Ben stepped back onto the empty street and looked at the painted window of the electronics shop:
VOTE FOR A CHANGE!
ELECT ANDERSON, MCHENRY AND MALORY
TOWN COUNCIL
He smiled to himself. He'd come up with the slogan "Vote for a Change," amused by its double meaning, by its criticism of the town's apathy, and though Bill had not thought it wise to insult the voters they were trying to woo, Ben didn't think most of them would get it.
He still thought that.
Backing all the way to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, he continued to stare at the sign, trying to determine its efficacy. He walked from one end of the block to the other, glancing over his shoulder, pretending he was a driver in a car, then walked back across the street to the electronics shop.
He was pretty happy with the way the job had turned out. The paint on the window was bright, and against the dull drabness of the dying downtown, the message stood out forcefully.
The cardboard signs they'd nailed up all over town and on the highway also looked good, but Ben knew from experience that that wouldn't be enough.
The Store had the radio.
And the newspaper.
Even thinking about the newspaper ticked him off.
He walked inside the shop.
"How's it look?" Street asked.
Ben gave a thumbs-up sign. "Excellent, if I do say so myself."
"Think it'll help?"
"No."
Ben walked over to the register counter, picked up his cup of coffee from where he'd left it, and finished off the dregs. When he and Street and Ted Malory had decided to run as a ticket, The Store had countered, offering an alternate slate. He wondered now if it had been a mistake to run together. Maybe they should have campaigned separately, as individuals, not tied their fates so closely to each other.
"Do you think we have a chance?" Street asked.
Ben shook his head.
"Maybe it'll go two-one, or one-two. Maybe we'll at least get one guy on there."
"I don't think so."
"So The Store'll own the council."
"Again."
"It'll be even worse this time. They won't have to buy anyone off. They won't need a middle man to do their dirty work. They'll be in charge themselves and they'll be legitimately elected."
Ben nodded. "I know." He looked at the back side of the painted window.
"God help us all."
2
It was not going to be a victory party. They knew that going in. It was a defeat party, a commiseration session, a wake.
Still, the gym was more crowded than Bill had expected, and it kept alive a small spark of hope within him. Maybe more people than they'd thought had figured out what The Store was doing to Juniper. Maybe the citizens of the town were too smart to have been fooled by The Store's glitzy advertising and inflated promises.
He thought of the famous photo of Harry Truman holding up a newspaper with a banner headline reading: DEWEY WINS!
Sometimes the oddsmakers turned out to be wrong. Sometimes the underdog did triumph.
Sometimes.
He and Ginny walked into the gym holding hands, looking around. Whoever was in charge of the decorations definitely had a sense of humor. Black crepe paper hung from the bleachers and the blackboards, funereal wreaths of dead flowers were arranged in stands next to the appetizers and drink tables in the center court. There were quite a few people milling about: most of the downtown merchants and owners of the businesses that made up the chamber of commerce, displaced municipal workers, unemployed construction people. They were talkative, friendly, not particularly somber, but the overall mood seemed grim.
The other candidates were awaiting election returns and holding their party at The Store. No expense had been spared and the affair was being catered by The Store's in-house sushi and espresso bars, all-you-can-eat free food being offered to all supporters. The Store had closed at noon so that employees could set up the decorations and clear an area of the building for the celebration, and a live remote broadcast was planned for the radio station.
Ironically -- and irritatingly -- both Sam and Shannon were working the party. They hadn't volunteered, they'd been assigned, and Bill could not help thinking that that was intentional. The Store knew that, though he was not running for office himself, he was one of the architects of the opposition, and Lamb and his people no doubt wanted to rub his face in it.
He was still unable to understand why more people hadn't turned against The Store. It was obvious to even a casual observer that since The Store had arrived, downtown Juniper had become a virtual ghost town, unemployment had skyrocketed, and the jobs that were now available had sharply lower wages than their predecessors. The Store was sucking the town dry, yet far too many people either didn't notice or didn't care. Putting aside the mysterious occurrences that had accompanied its arrival, people should be rejecting The Store on a purely personal, selfish, economic level.
Yet they weren't.
And he could not figure out why.
Street wandered over. He had already been drinking heavily, and he gave Ginny a huge unwelcome hug and boozily clapped an arm around Bill's shoulder.
"Mayday! Mayday! We're going down!"
"You don't seem too broken up about it," Bill said.
Street shrugged. "At some point, all you can do is laugh."
Ben, Ted, and Ted's wife, Charlinda, made their way through the throng toward them. They talked for a few moments, then Ginny and Charlinda moved off toward the hors d'oeuvres and the men stood alone.
"How badly do you think we're going to lose?" Bill asked.
"We'll get our asses kicked!" Street yelled.
Bill ignored him, turned toward Ted. "What's your feeling? You know a lot of people in this town. You're not a pariah like Ben or a clown like Street --"
"I resent that!" Street said.
Bill grinned. "What's your bead on the situation?"
"I don't know," Ted admitted. "All I hear is doom and gloom from you guys, but everyone I've talked to seems pretty supportive. There's a lot of resentment toward The Store out there. People might be afraid to admit it, but most of them don't like The Store. I may be crazy, but -- knock on wood -- I think we have a fighting chance."
_Afraid to admit it_.
Bill licked his lips. "Why would they be _afraid_ to admit it?"
Ted shifted uncomfortably. "You know."
That was the problem. He did know. They all knew. And they faced each other, the knowledge in their eyes, until Street suggested that they all go over to the drink table and get something to wet their whistles.