Deep Shadows (16 page)

Mayor Perkins tried to call the crowd to order, but it was hopeless. Finally, she accepted defeat, walked off the podium, and was swarmed by a dozen people.

Carter rejoined them, asking what martial law meant. Shelby and Patrick had closed ranks, as if they could protect Carter from what lay ahead. But Max was watching Perkins. As people began to loudly debate what was and wasn't addressed in the president's speech, Perkins quietly and quickly slipped through the crowd and made her way toward the city offices.

“I need to talk to her.”

“Who?” Shelby asked.

“Perkins. I want to talk to her about Stone. Plus, she needs to know about Green Acres.”

“I'm not sure that's the worst of our concerns now, bro.” Patrick was scanning the crowd, every muscle in his body on full alert.

“We have fifteen minutes until the church meeting. I'll be there when it starts, but I have a feeling there will be a crowd. Find us a place near the back where we can slip away if we need to.”

Max locked eyes with Shelby. That unspoken acknowledgment would have to be enough, even though Max wished he had time to assure her that this thing would not spin out of control. But he didn't have time—and he wasn't sure where they would be when the spinning eventually stopped.

T
WENTY
-T
WO

M
ax hurried toward the mayor's office. He made it halfway to the building when he saw that Eugene Stone was standing on top of a bench, speaking to a growing group of men.

“The truck's on the south side of town, and we're going now. We'll split what's there between those who go.”

He was immediately swarmed with men eager to volunteer.

“What's he talking about?” Max asked a man standing at the back of the group.

“Supply truck headed to the prison in Croghan.”

“What about it?”

“The truck broke down. It's full of food. Stone says he left an officer there to guard it.”

“Food meant for the prison?”

The man shrugged. “Don't know who it was meant for, but it's ours now.”

“Is it even within the town limits?”

“Don't suppose it matters.”

“It does matter. Legally, you can't—”

But the man had already turned away. Stone climbed into the police cruiser, and Nash blipped the siren once and drove south.

Max resumed his way to the mayor's office. Fortunately, when he arrived, Perkins was alone.

“I suppose everyone is still out there dissecting the president's words.”

“Some are.” Max sank into a chair across from her desk. “Stone is leading a group of men out to raid a prison supply truck.”

Perkins's face turned a darker shade of red. “I told him to leave that alone.”

“Well, he's not. I doubt Croghan will be happy when they find out we took it, not to mention the prisoners who need that food.”

“We don't know that the prisoners are still there.” Perkins reached for a bottle of water and downed half of it.

“Why wouldn't they still be in the prison, Nadine?”

“The guards might not have shown up for work. If there was no one to keep them in the compound—”

“The flare happened at night. Prisoners would have been in their cells.”

“It was eight o'clock our time. They're still in the open areas until nine.” Perkins tapped a stack of folders. “This is a portion of our emergency plans, and one of them is for the prison because it's in a neighboring town. All of our plans depend on communications and basic emergency services being in place.”

Max forced his mind to refocus on the reason he'd come to see her. “What was the argument between you and Stone? When he first approached the stage?”

She seemed to consider whether to share city business, but Max was their backup city attorney. At some point, he would probably need to know whatever she knew anyway. She shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

“We'd been receiving transmissions from the state government, as I said.”

“But you couldn't corroborate them. It was smart to hold off on sharing that information.”

“I'm convinced they are in fact from the governor. Problem is, they repeat-broadcasted the message until twelve minutes after three this afternoon, when all communication stopped.” She rifled through some papers on her desk, pulled one from the stack, and handed it to him. “Take a look at this. It was being broadcast via Morse code over several different frequencies.”

“Low-tech. Makes sense.”

“One of the old-timers explained to me that it's less sensitive to poor signal conditions than voice communication.”

“And you found someone who could translate it?”

“Believe it or not, those guys were still down at the coffee shop this
morning—same as any other day.” She smiled, and it softened her face, reminding Max that she was only a woman trying her best to do a job that she probably wished she'd never accepted.

“Some things never change,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I suppose those gentlemen will keep meeting even after the coffee has long run out. The officer monitoring the airwaves recognized the code immediately, but he couldn't translate it.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the desk and studying Max. “Our codger club was happy to step in and lend a hand.”

He glanced at her once more before focusing on the sheet of paper in his hand.

This is an emergency announcement from the Office of the Governor of the State of Texas. A solar flare experienced on the evening of 06.10 caused catastrophic failure of statewide power grid. All municipalities urged to plan for extensive, long-term outages. Priorities of state agencies will be restoring order to urban centers, providing medical care to entire populace, and protecting borders from enemies both foreign and domestic. Municipal governments should refer to Emergency Plan C, Section 8. This message will repeat.

“That's it?”

“Yeah. It says a lot, but—”

“But it leaves even more unsaid.”

Perkins spread her hands in surrender. “Wait until you see Emergency Plan C.”

She pulled another sheet from the stack and began to read: “Municipalities shall make every effort to ensure clean water supply. Any and all resources within your municipal borders may be commandeered for the use of the populace.”

“That sounds like a bad idea, and one that I—as your lawyer—would not endorse.”

“I agree with you, but I'm having a hard time convincing Eugene Stone as much. He's already drawn up a list of things we should commandeer.”

Max shouldn't have been surprised. It was all happening too fast. He had the sense of trying to catch up, trying to stop something that was already out of control.

“The recommendations don't stop there. We're to set up a triage area, facilitate the building of latrines—”

“Plant victory gardens?”

“Yeah.” Perkins stared out the window. The blinds were cracked an inch, allowing them to see the sun inching toward the horizon. “Someone foresaw this happening.”

“Shelby's research showed that NASA has been warning Congress of the possibility for years.”

“But no one listened.”

“Or no one was willing to spend the money on preparation.” Max knew how politicians worked. Why spend money on something that might never happen when defense contracts brought big money to a congressman's district? Lawmakers had focused on the problems at hand without considering the problems of the future. Or maybe they'd simply lacked the imagination to foresee such a nightmare.

“Section 8 goes on to tell me that I may institute martial law if I feel it is necessary in order to control our citizens.”

“But the president's letter already did that.”

“The president's letter arrived after the state message stopped transmitting.”

“How did we even receive the letter?”

“Stone says that a sergeant from Fort Hood drove up in a Humvee, dropped it off, and then left. Apparently they're going to every municipality.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don't know.” She picked up a pencil and tapped it against her desktop. “Maybe. But how do I even know that this letter is from the president? It could be from anyone with a computer and a printer that still work.”

“This phrase… ‘enemies both foreign and domestic.' It appears in both.”

“It does, which suggests to me that there is a struggle going on.”

“I've always heard that we would be vulnerable if the grid went down. But if everyone's grid is down, it seems we're all in the same boat.”

“Metaphorically speaking. However, the president's letter says there are
pockets of areas less affected than others.” Perkins returned the paper to the top of her pile and straightened the stack.

“So now would be a good time to start a war? That doesn't make any sense.”

“It doesn't to me, but it might to some people.”

Max thought of that, of the countries that had been striving to maintain peace for years, even decades. Anyone not affected by the flare would suddenly have the upper hand. “We're not going to get much help from the military.”

“My guess is no, at least not until whatever crisis the president hints at is resolved.”

“And the reason that the governor's transmission stopped?”

“I can't say for certain, but it seems to me that there might be a struggle between state and federal agencies as to who is in charge.”

It was the worst possible scenario. As if they didn't have enough to deal with, now they had to worry about who ultimately had authority and what they were doing.

“Basically all of this says we're on our own,” Max said.

Perkins nodded in agreement. “My fear is that Stone sees this situation as a chance to control the populace.”

“Most of the folks in Abney don't need controlling. Left to their own, they'll make the right decisions. Save any extreme measures for those who don't.”

“I agree.” Perkins stood and moved next to the window. She stared out at the people walking down the street, headed toward their homes and another night of darkness.

“I needed to talk to you about Green Acres.” He explained the situation as succinctly at possible.

Perkins turned toward him, her expression now all business. “I don't know how to get the nurses and aides to show up. Maybe more of them will as they realize they're needed.”

She pulled a sheet of paper off a white square tablet and began to write on it. “This man is staying at the hotel.”

“You have a list of hotel guests?”

“I asked for one when this first hit. Initially, I'd hoped to be able to facilitate their transportation back to their homes, but that's looking less likely.”

“And you think he can help?”

“Maybe. He's a doctor, and he might be willing to fill in some shifts.”

“I'll talk to him tonight.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“Tony Ramos has called a special assembly at the church.”

Perkins nodded, and Max realized he needed to leave if he was going to make the meeting.

“For what it's worth, I think you're doing a good job, Mayor.”

“Thanks.” She waited until he'd reached the door to add, “While you're at the church, say a prayer for me.”

T
WENTY
-T
HREE

W
hoa,” Carter said as he followed his mom into the sanctuary of their church.

“Exactly,” Patrick agreed. The room was full to overflowing.

“I've never seen this place so packed.” His mom led the way to a back corner, where they could see the door Max would come through as well as the front where Pastor Tony stood.

At least they found some room to lean against the wall.

Carter wasn't sure how he felt about church and religion. Occasionally he doubted the value of the whole thing. Some days it felt right to him. Other days he knew it was right, but he simply didn't want to go. Max had assured him that being confused was normal, but it didn't feel very normal. He'd been looking forward to college, where he could find his own way without the expectations of people who had known him all his life weighing down on him.

Based on what the mayor had said, he guessed college wasn't going to happen.

Only a few of the kids from school attended their church. He saw Jason enter with his parents, and they, too, picked a place along the wall. He noticed Kaitlyn sitting up near the front. He was glad she was there, and when she turned to look toward the back, she smiled at him and waved.

Max entered through the back door and squeezed his way through the crowd until he stood next to them.