CHAPTER 99 MATT

99

Matt

"EVERYONE, LISTEN UP!" PETERSON tapped the microphone with the tip of his finger, and three loud thuds came from the speakers mounted on the ceiling above center court followed by a hint of sharp feedback. "Get yourselves situated. Take a seat!"

Although someone had set out several folding chairs, Rodney and Eli had forced Matt to kneel on the gym floor, a few feet to Peterson's right. Gabby and Addie were on the ground beside him. Pregnant or not, they'd made no concessions. The girl who looked like Emily Pridham stood beside Stu Peterson, her silent eyes gazing across the faces in the bleachers.

Peterson glanced up at the clock on the wall—it read ten till nine—and cleared his throat. "I know we're a few minutes early, but I think everyone who needs to be here is here, so there's not much point in waiting." He seemed to consider that, then looked over at Matt. "Well, everyone except this man's boss, our lovely sheriff. Best I can tell, Ellie's off hiding somewhere rather than facing all of us. After today, I say good riddance."

There was a mumbling from the crowd. Someone actually clapped a few times, then it abruptly went quiet.

Rodney Campos had Ellie's Colt out, the barrel pointed at Matt's head. Matt realized just how broken these people were, because nobody seemed to recognize the wrong in that. They had their own deputy on his knees with a gun pointed at his head in a general assembly in the middle school gymnasium, and nobody saw the wrong in that; they only sat there and watched.

"I understand how concerned you all are, rightfully so. This man here and his boss have let our town come apart, literally watched it crumble and burn—well, we're taking things back before their actions result in the death of all of us."

"Ellie's not here because she's busy trying to help all of you!" Matt shouted out. "We all need to take a breath. I know tensions are high, but we'll get through this. We'll all—"

Rodney cracked him on the back of the neck with the Colt. Not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to stun him into silence.

Peterson eyed this as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then said, "You'll get your chance to speak, Matt. Providing these people still want to hear from you when I'm through. Until then, I'd appreciate a little restraint. A little respect for the process."

"The process? What are you talking about?"

Confusion filled Peterson's face. He stood there for a moment, then stepped away from the microphone and knelt next to Matt. "You honestly don't know, do you? You don't remember?"

"Remember? Remember what?"

"Your station."

"My …"

Matt had no idea what he was talking about. Peterson had completely lost it. Snapped. Nothing else made sense.

Peterson pushed the brim of his ball cap up and leaned closer, as if the proximity allowed him to see deeper into Matt. "You've never forgotten before." He glanced over at the faces in the bleachers. "The rest of 'em, sure, but never you. That's new."

"I don't understand."

Peterson pursed his lips. "Well, you will soon enough."

"Stu!" Someone shouted from the crowd. "There's a fence up around the entire town, I walked it with my boy earlier today. Some kind of military presence. Religious folk, too. Who is it?"

Peterson rose and went back to the microphone. Shielding his eyes from the lights, he squinted up into the bleachers. "That you, Ben? I've had my boys walk that, too. We're still trying to figure out what to make of it, but best we can tell whoever it is isn't letting anyone in or out. They cut our communications. Effectively isolated us."

Someone else shouted, "What? Like we're caged in? What happens when we run out of food? Main Street's gone. We all gonna survive off the Gas 'n' Go out on 112? Screw that. We need to get out of here!"

This brought on another round of murmurs from the crowd. Peterson settled them with a wave of his hand. "Hush, all of you. This ain't nothing but a test. It's been that from the start." He swept his arm back and pointed at the girl who looked a lot like Emily Pridham. "Her arrival this morning was not a surprise. Not some kind of accident. It was expected. It was foretold. I admit, I was in the dark earlier, same as all you, but she showed me the truth. She brought me clarity. With one touch, all of it made perfect sense. I know why she's here. I know why those people have locked us down in our own town. I know what they all want from us. Yeah, that sounds crazy, I know that, too, and I don't expect any of you to believe me. I could tell you until I'm blue in the face, and you wouldn't believe me. It's easier to show you. Let her touch you. Let her show you . And we'll all understand. And once we understand, once we know our place, only then can we move forward."

This brought on more murmurs from the crowd.

Gabby leaned closer and whispered, "Matt, look."

He followed her gaze. Several of Peterson's men were moving around the outer edge of the gym, positioning near the doors. All of there were armed. A few of the doors were already chained shut.

Rodney Campos dug the barrel of the Colt into the back of Matt's neck. "You say a fucking word and I kill you, then her. Now's not the time to be a hero."

Peterson pulled the microphone from the stand and stepped to the side of the podium. "I'd like everyone to line up single file. Give her a chance to touch you, a chance to show you , and once we all understand our place, our station, we'll work out a plan. We'll take back the Bend. I won't force anyone. If you don't want to do this, just stay in your seat. But trust me on this, you want to . Does that sound fair enough?"

There were several more muffled conversations from the crowd, but when the first few stood and started making their way down the bleachers and across the gymnasium floor, others followed.

"Good. Good. Help them, Eli. Get a nice, straight line going. That's the way."

Peterson watched them for a moment, then went over to the girl. "We're in this together; always have been." He said into the mic, "While you all are getting organized, we need to do a little housekeeping. Because sometimes the easiest way to settle a beast is to feed it. Don't you all agree?"

He directed the words at nobody in particular, and the oddness of them brought on an uneasy quiet from the crowd. Peterson stepped closer to the girl and told her, "Hold out your arms."

Palms up, fingers splayed, she did as he asked.

Peterson leaned in, studied the writing, all the names, then seemed to settle on one. He turned back to the bleachers. "Keith Gayton, are you here?"

There was the rustle of shoes on the wood, then Keith stood. He was in the second row on the far right. His face twisted in a mix of fear and anxiety, partially lost in the shadows from a dead bulb above.

"Why don't you come down here, Keith. Join us."

Keith's eyes locked with Peterson's, then he offered a slight nod. The people around him parted, made a path. He slowly came down, stepped over the first row, and made his way over to Peterson and the girl.

"It's best you kneel, Keith. Kneel before her."

Keith Gayton clearly didn't want to, but he lowered himself to his knees anyway.

Peterson looked first at Keith, rolled his gaze slowly over the growing line and those still in the bleachers, then went back to the girl. In a low voice, he said, "Judgment."

Her hands, still outstretched, dropped on Keith's head.

The images smacked into Matt like a truck—Keith in an alley, his eyes red and wild, high on something. He had a knife in one hand and was holding a man by his hair with the other, screaming in his face. The other man held up a small plastic baggie filled with white crystals—meth. Keith snatched the baggie, took one look around the alley, and plunged the knife into the side of the man's neck. He gave it a twist and yanked it back out. He dropped the man and ran.

Matt snapped back.

Back to the gym.

He knew by the utter silence around him they'd all seen it.

Keith remained on the ground, his head low, the girl hovering over him.

"Judgment," Stu Peterson said again, then pressed the barrel of his shotgun into the small of Keith's back and fired.

Matt tried to jump up at him, but Rodney cracked him in the head again with the Colt.

Before the echo of the fatal blast died, Peterson was back at the girl's side, studying her arm. He looked back out over the crowd and shouted, "Cody Hill!"