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“We have to face some realities here,” Dez continued. “First, we have to stay inside the building. The National Guard made that clear and I don’t think they’re going to cut us any slack. So, for all intents and purposes we’re stuck on an island in the middle of the ocean. The good news is that we have our own generator and enough fuel for five days. Because this is the town’s emergency shelter, we have blankets, flashlights, batteries, first-aid kits, water, and a lot of food. Enough for maybe a week with the number of people we have. When we get low, the Guard says they’ll drop more on the roof. So we’re good for now, and this thing will all be over by then.”
“Over?” asked Jenny DeGroot, one of the teachers. That one word was heavy with meaning and implications.
“You know what I mean, Jenny,” said Dez. “They’ll get us out of here and then we can all…” She paused, fishing for the way to say it. “So we can all take care of what needs to be taken care of.”
Most of them said nothing and just looked at her; a few—the ones Trout thought were the steadiest among them—nodded. Grief was tomorrow’s problem. Today’s agenda was all about survival.
“Now, the first thing we really need to talk about,” said Dez, her mouth, eyes, and voice hardened, “is rationing. We are going to share everything. I’m going to put a few people in charge of inventory, someone else will be in charge of allotment, and some others will take care of cooking and food prep. No one else touches any food unless it’s on their own plate. No one hoards anything. Not food, not anything. If the supplies do get low, then the kids eat first and we eat second. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
Trout scanned the crowd. If anyone had a problem with it, no one said so. He even thought he saw some relief on their faces, and Trout could understand that. A plan was evidence of structure, and structure was stability. It was something they could react to.
“Good,” she said. “Next is the generator. The town’s power is out, so the generator is all we have. I don’t want to use it anymore than we have to. If we turn it off during the day we can stretch it out for longer than a week if we have to. That means that we eat the stuff in the cafeteria freezers first. After that it’s Spam and canned beans, unless they drop us some McRib sandwiches.”
That got a few small smiles. It was a dent, and Trout was relieved to see Dez attempting humor. It meant that she was on sounder emotional ground herself.
“Now we come to the real issue,” continued Dez. “Security. We need to secure this building. If the Guard is wrong and there are more of those—things—out there, then we need to make sure they don’t get inside. Partly because we don’t want to turn this place into a Denny’s for dead motherfuckers.”
No one laughed at what was an intensely lame joke. Dez colored a little but plunged on.
“And if the Guard think that our security has been compromised then they’re going to finish what they started.”
She cut an inquiring look at Trout, who mouthed the words, Go for it.
“And there’s more,” said Dez gravely. “We all know that the military wants to sterilize all of Stebbins, which means wiping out everyone and everything. Right now the only thing stopping them is the broadcasts Billy made. That … and one other thing. They think Billy has some information that might help them fight this disease or whatever it is.”
The people turned to Trout, and many of them moved back from him like he was infected.
“Does he?” asked Mrs. Madison.
“No,” said Trout, and he briefly explained about Volker, the flash drives, and Goat.
“As long as they think he has the stuff, we’re probably safe,” said Dez. “But there’s also a chance they could kick down the doors and come in here to take it.”
A murmur of dismay rippled through the crowd.
“Wouldn’t they leave us alone if they thought we didn’t have it?” asked Jenny. “Wasn’t that the deal? We stay in here and they leave us alone?”
“That was the deal,” said Dez. “Sure. But right now I’m not feeling too filled with the spirit of trust and belief.”
One of the farmers asked, “So what do we do? Looks like we’re in deep cow shit no matter how this thing goes.”
Dez nodded. “We do the only thing we can do. We fortify this place and do whatever it takes to protect the children, and everyone else in this building. It’s as simple as that.”
“That’s all well and good,” said Jenny, “but nailing boards over the windows isn’t going to stop those helicopters.”
“I don’t think they’ll use the helicopters again.”
“Why not? We can’t fight them.”
“No,” Dez agreed, “but if they use heavy weapons then they can’t guarantee they won’t kill Billy and destroy those flash drives.” She shook her head. “If they come in here, it’s going to be with regular men and guns, and we can stop them.”
The farmer looked uncomfortable with that. “I don’t want to get into a firefight with our own troops.”
“Neither do I,” said Dez. “You think I’m nuts? I’m not saying we start a war, but we have to be ready to defend this building if they try something. I mean … what choice do we really have?”
No one had a good answer to that. Trout wanted to punch a wall because the situation was so frustrating and awkward. Nothing was a clear choice. Nothing really made sense to him. All trust in the system was gone.
One of the parents cleared his throat. “Okay, so … um, how do we do that? Secure the place, I mean? Do we, like, barricade the doors and stuff?”
