There is No Complaint Department

Posted on Sun Jan 21st, 2024 @ 8:36pm by Hale Stratton

992 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Bangor or Bust
Location: Safe Zone Command, Bangor Safe Zone, Maine
Timeline: 30 August 2010 - 08:00

Josiah Danforth, in command of the Bangor Safe Zone, accepted a cup of instant coffee that someone had placed near his hand, as he studied the street map spread on the large conference table. "We've cleared the area around the north side perimeter back about twenty blocks; it's been scavenged for supplies and pickings are getting thin. Once the area's clear we set up barricades blocking street access. They still find their way through but its a trickle now. Got teams working to clear the east side but south is still a mess. That's where you come in, Major."

"Procedural guidelines," Hale asked as he studied the map and kept the obvious comments to himself. Whole lot of territory. Impossible assignment. That sort of thing.

"Straight forward enough," Danforth said as he set his cup down and ran a hand through his salt and pepper brush cut. "Clear the building. Make sure all windows and doors are closed, and mark the entrances with a red 'x'. A scavenger team will follow and they'll go through the places for supplies."

"Excuse me!" Steffan said as pushed passed the guard at the door. "Which one of you is in charge here???" The German transport minister insisted.

Both men looked up as the man approached. Hale waved off the guards as Danforth stepped forward. "I am," he said. Long hours and an impossible task had helped along his natural tendency not to waste words.

Steffan offered his hand to man who had spoken. "Steffan Wolff, German Transport Minister." He said, with only the slightest of hints of a German accent.

Danforth accepted the man's hand as he answered, "Lieutenant Colonel Josiah Danforth, in command of the Bangor Safe Zone, and this is Major Stratton." He had the bearing an attitude of a battlefield commander, as did the surroundings. Niceties had been pushed off to the side to make way for the practicalities of a field command. "What do you have to report?"

"Report?" Steffan said with a frown. "I have nothing to report. I want to know when my plane will be ready to take me home! I have children I need to get back too!"

"I'm a father myself so I understand but ...," Danforth said. His expression turned if not soft at least somewhat less imposing, "the last planes left out of here two days ago. As of now, no flights in. No flights out."

"I was promised a flight home! I'm a visiting dignitary and a single parent! My children need me! Steffan demanded.

"Look around you, Mr. Wolff," Danforth said gesturing in the general direction of the barricades and a city under siege by the dead. "Things have changed. The world has changed. No one's left to make good on that promise. We've got other concerns at the moment."

"Dont give that rubbish, Colonel! This pandemic is just a load of Scheiße. Your trying to scare people into a military dictatorship!" Steffan replied angrily.

"Tell you what, Mr. Wolff," Danforth said, his expression turning chill and forbiding, "next time a patrol goes out, you can go with them. See for yourself. But for now, we've got work to do."

"I'm pretty sure that patrol would only show me what you'd want me to see, rather than see what is actually going on!" Steffan said raising his voice slightly.

"I don't have time for this, Mr. Wolff," Danforth said. "You have your answer. No planes out. You're welcome to figure out your own transportation but until the dead are back where they belong, there's nothing I can do for you." He motioned to Hale. "See him out, will you?"

"Yes, Sir," Hale said as he turned toward their visitor. "This way, Sir."

Wolff ignored the Colonel's henchman and took a step forward, pulling out his wallet. "I have cash. How much do you want?" He said as he opened his wallet which was stuffed full of American dollar and European Euro notes. "I can get more, please." He pleaded.

"Money? That doesn't mean anything right now," Danforth said as gently as he could. "If we don't get this under control, there won't be a government left anywhere. And that's the truth."

"So what the hell am I meant to do?!" Steffan demanded taking another step closer. "The world is going to Scheiße and you're stopping me from getting home!" He said angrily.

"I'm not stopping you," Danforth said with a tired sigh. "It's just the reality. No flights. No way home. If you're that determined, find yourself a boat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do have work to do."

"Can you get me a boat?" He asked stepping into the officers path again flashing his wallet full of cash.

"Out," Danforth ordered. "Don't make me call security." He deliberately turned his back on the man and went back to studying the map that had been spread out on the table. As he bent over, a sergeant dressed in fatigues came in and the two began conferring over the logistics involved in feeding the ever growing mass of people in the zone.

Hale inserted himself between Danforth and the minister and gestured the door. "Meeting is over, Mr. Wolff. This way."

"So, what happens now? You can't keep us locked up like cattle!" Wolff hissed.

"Not trying to," Hale said with a light shrug. "You stay here, you have the protection of what's left of the military. You leave the zone, you are, as they say, on your own. Time to go Mr. Wolff."

He watched the man leave and allowed himself to the count of ten to think about the difficulties the man would face. Ten beats and no more. Because whatever the man's tragedy was, there were many, many more out there facing variations of the same. Ten beats and then it was time to get back to work and the next problem that needed solving.

 

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