A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

he had to put a number on it, at least 50 percent had upped and moved out, choosing to head to the FEMA camps in Portland to the north and San Francisco and Sacramento to the south. This mass exodus had been both a blessing and a curse. It meant fewer mouths to feed and fewer people to watch over, but it also meant fewer people to help man the five checkpoints set up throughout the county.

His eyes roamed, searching for Captain Benjamin Evans or Lieutenant Elijah Hale. Both had said they would be there to address issues related to the militia. Neither of them had shown up. If he wasn’t mistaken, he might have thought they wanted him to drown. “You can handle this. You’re the head of the spear. They trust you. We’re just here to back you up.” Their words weeks earlier sounded great as did their idea to protect and provide for the town, but he had to wonder if it was nothing more than a means of riling up the locals. His skepticism was shining through even though he realized without them the town might have turned on the council two weeks ago.

“I want to know about the slew of murder-suicides,” Joe Winthorpe said. Winthorpe was the CEO of a graphic design company in town before the world went belly up. “My sister wouldn’t have taken her own life.”

“I understand, Joe.”

“Do you? Because I haven’t heard one ounce of empathy from your department since they were found. What’s being done?”

“It’s being handled.”

“I keep hearing that word. Handled. How?”

Others joined in, demanding to know.

His gaze drifted around, staring at faces, red, hot, and angry. They wanted answers but he couldn’t give them. Instead, he decided to be forthright, to open up and share something that had deeply affected him, something that might bridge the gap. “Most of you here have seen or know my wife, Lily. Two weeks ago she attempted to take her own life.” Angry faces morphed. Did they believe him? “Like many of you, I came home to find her on the brink of death. Pills everywhere. I didn’t want to believe it. Never once did she talk about taking her life. I don’t confess to know why she did it. Other than this past month has been tremendously stressful for all of us. Some of us can cope, others can’t. But it tells us that we all need to have our eyes and ears open. As I told you two weeks ago, we cannot do this alone. If you are expecting to rely on us, I would highly recommend you don’t. We are no different than you. We need to sleep. We need to eat. We are trying to cope with what we are seeing. Many of my officers are finding these times as troubling as you. That has an impact on their mental health.”

“But my sister didn’t take pills. She was hung. And your wife is still alive.”

“And some people took their lives with a gun. I’m not here to discuss how people choose to go or why my wife is alive still. I’m here to answer the best that I can questions you have and explain why we have set up roadblocks, implemented a curfew, and recently requested that those of you who live farther out, move into town.”

Joe shrugged. “And live where?”

“Many have gone. We will make arrangements.”

“Why?” a woman shouted out. “I don’t want to live in someone else’s house. I don’t want to move into the city.” She looked to all the others. “I’m sure everyone would agree. We don’t want to do that.”

“Because, Janice, when half of the community left to go to FEMA camps, a good portion of those that went with them were police officers. Okay? As our ability to serve this community diminishes, so the expectation upon people who choose to stay will rise. No one is telling you to remain but if you do, and you expect to be fed from the supplies, or receive help from law enforcement because your neighborhood has been targeted by looters, then you’ll need to move into town.”

“I still don’t think you have addressed the suicide issue,” Joe said. “Sure, I can buy that a few people would take their lives but not my sister.”

Dan groaned. He was done trying to convince these people. “You know what, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you can’t comprehend. I’m telling you what is. And right now, the curfew will stay in effect. You can leave the county to go to a FEMA camp, but for those who stay, we are placing a restriction on supplies and who can leave their homes after a certain time at night.”

“So we’re prisoners?” Ted Bailey barked.

“You are free to go any time you choose, Ted. But those are the rules of this community.”

Someone laughed. “If we want to leave, who’s going to stop us? You, sheriff?”

“The militia.”

“Oh. So that’s how it’s going to be. Blockades, curfews, rationing, the need to move into town, I imagine next you’ll be calling for our guns.”

“Actually,” Dan said, swallowing hard.

There was a pause for a few seconds as people registered his reaction. They knew what was coming next.

“Hell no! That’s not happening!” Joe bellowed. “You’re not taking my gun.”

The crowd erupted in an uproar and again he had to call the meeting to order. Cathy smashed the gavel as hard as she could while he raised his voice, hands outstretched. “Please. People. Give me a moment to explain.” He took a deep breath, then a sip of his water before continuing. “We can’t have just anyone charging around with guns. Under ordinary circumstances, sure. Some laws govern such things but under the conditions we are facing, the last thing we need is people getting trigger happy.”

Ted, a local hunter who had been of great service to them over the past few weeks, taking out groups to bring in meat, stood up. “I can appreciate