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militia.”
    “Lots of folks still see us as mutant biker zombies. Mad Max types. We’ll work under the direct supervision of your roadblock crews, staying on the outskirts of town. If you need us to do more, we can talk about that later. There’s only one favor I would ask of you.”
    “Sure,” said Bevins.
    “Would you be willing to schedule one town hall meeting for me to address the people? I’m not going to bullshit you. I’m looking for recruits. It’s a good gig for anyone with previous law enforcement or military experience. All I need is fifteen minutes to address whoever shows up. I’ll come unarmed, dressed however you’d like.”
    “I don’t want you panicking the town,” said Bevins.
    “I’ll keep the York County stories to myself. Scaring people into joining the militia isn’t the best way to go about business. I’ll tell them what we do, leaving out the part about staffing the checkpoints.”
    “It’s probably not a bad idea to have some trained folks at the checkpoints, especially if the patrol officers are needed elsewhere. How long can your people stay?”
    “As long as they’re needed. If I get enough volunteers from town, I can run a two-week training course and give some of them back. Might give you the boost you need to cover any inbound routes you’re missing.”
    “We have a few smaller roads on the other side of Highland Lake that don’t get much traffic,” said Bevins.
    “I’d like to put someone on Sam Ingalls Road, west of here. People crossing the border from New Hampshire are bound to find that road eventually. Same with King Hills down south. We have seven checkpoints, all staffed twenty-four hours a day by at least one member of the department. This would be a big help, Ron,” said Officer Hoyt. “If Mr. Russell can get his people here later today or tomorrow, they could work with our officers at each checkpoint for a few days. Sort of a trial period.”
    “You give me the thumbs-up, and I’ll have ten men here in a few hours.”
    “We’ll have to run it by the chief. He’ll have some reservations.”
    “I understand his position. Tell him my men can start out unarmed until he’s comfortable with them. Let’s say three men. If it works out, we can expand the program. Baby steps, gentlemen. I get it.”
    “I’ll take this back to the chief and the rest of the selectmen,” said Bevins. “Do you want to come back around five? Give us some time to work this out?”
    “If you don’t mind, we’ll wait. That way, if your chief has any questions, we’re not far away. We’d planned to be out all day. Got some MREs and plenty of water.”
    “Sounds good,” said Bevins. “I’ll be back.”
    “No hurry,” said Eli, turning to Officer Hoyt. “I’ll pull the car back to the town line so we don’t interfere with your duties. If you need us, just flash the high beams.”
    “Will do,” said Hoyt, turning to walk to his patrol car.
    The man with the bipod-equipped rifle lifted the weapon off the pickup truck’s hood and made room for Ron Bevins and Officer Hoyt. He kept the sight fixed on Eli as the pickup truck’s engine roared.
    Trust but verify.
     

Chapter 4
    EVENT +5 Days
     
    Sanford, Maine
     
    Alex searched the trees on the left side of the deserted two-lane road for signs of the airport’s boundary fence. He used to drive into Sanford using this route when he worked in pharmaceutical sales, and remembered that the tree line opened to a massive, flat expanse of land containing Sanford Seacoast Regional Airport. The airport had never impressed him, just another stop for Cessna-type aircraft or maybe something a little bigger. He’d been surprised to learn that the airport had a reinforced 6,300-foot runway, suitable for use by a United States Air Force C-17B (Globemaster III) military transport aircraft. The runway had been hardened in 2016, using federal grants.
    Uncle Sam has been busy since the Jakarta Pandemic.
    The forest thinned, yielding