The Last Town (Book 4): Fighting the Dead by Stephen Knight Page B

that?”
    “I’m on the town council, but the mayor is leaning Corbett’s way. He’s just doing it for votes, and probably because Corbett is paying him off under the table. I’m the only one who’s against the insanity. Even the police chief is open to it.” Aguilar shook his head and took a pull off his mixed drink. “I can’t understand it. It’s going to destroy the town. The state will penalize us, the tourism will dry up, no shipments will be able to come in—we’ll all be broke by this time next year, and Corbett will probably just manage to skip away without even a slap on the wrist.”
    “He is that kind of man, able to buy his way in and out of everything without regard for law or who might get hurt,” Sinclair said, allowing himself the opportunity to fan the flames of discord. “I interviewed him at length. He’s a climate change denier, and worse, his organization actually contributes to it. He might actually be responsible for what’s happening now, with the sickness that’s going on.”
    Aguilar raised his brows. “Why, yes, that could be climate related, couldn’t it? Some sort of stress disorder, making people go crazy?”
    “More likely some virus that was dug up and exposed to the open air,” Sinclair said. “You know that in the permafrost, there are all sorts of nasty little buggers that have been suspended in the ice. I wouldn’t be surprised if Corbett or one of his cronies managed to unearth something particularly nasty.” He swigged some of his wretched, cold beer. “And of course, people like him would rush to cover it up—no warnings, no confessions, not a single thought for anything other than their fat bank accounts.” The fact the Sinclair’s bank was on the fat side itself had nothing to do with the conversation, so of course he didn’t bring it up.
    “You should report on this,” Aguilar said, his eyes shining the bar’s pale light. “It could be a great story, how one of America’s richest men totally destroys a helpless small town.”
    “Well. We’ll have to see about that,” Sinclair said, looking down at his beer. “My wife and I will hopefully be catching a ride to Reno tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving.” He almost said “I hope to be leaving”, but managed to catch himself before letting the words slip out. No sense in offending the one soul in this Godforsaken little town that actually knew who he was.
    Aguilar seemed disappointed. “Oh. That’s a shame. But if things don’t work out and you get caught here, let me know. I run the pharmacy up the street.” He pointed toward the wall behind the bar, indicating someplace Sinclair couldn’t see. “Unlike Corbett, I’m a small business owner who works hard every day.”
    “Good man. Good man,” Sinclair said. “So tell me more, what is it that Corbett plans on doing, exactly?”
    Aguilar grinned. “You’ll love this.” And he began to talk.
    And Sinclair listened with rapt attention.
     
    ###
     
    Max Booker’s first words to Corbett were, “What are you doing here?”
    Corbett could see that his presence at the crime scene was pissing off Booker something fierce. Just the same, the mayor’s tone and general attitude got Corbett’s back up immediately. “I came as soon as I heard, Max. I figured you would have, as well. But it seems I beat you. Why is that, exactly?”
    Booker glared at him in the strobing emergency lights. “What the hell do you mean by that?” he snapped.
    Corbett stepped up and got right into Booker’s face. The mayor was a good twenty-plus years younger, and still looked to be in good enough shape to kick his ass, but Corbett was done playing around. All the talking, the convincing, the facts, the figures, the planning—he was sick of it. It was time to start making things happen, and Booker couldn’t get comfortable with it.
    “Let me spell it out for you, Max. We start shutting down the town. Tonight, my men begin deploying razor wire all over the