changing.”
“Isn’t that why the internet is being kept up?” a man shouted from the back of the room.
Mr. Davies rolled his eyes and groaned. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with this hand. He looked over at the Runners to gauge their reaction and spotted Audrey fidgeting. He shook his head with raised eyebrows and a can-you-believe-this look. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.
“I am going to turn the time over to Dean, who is our current Director of Runners and Runner One,” Mr. Davies introduced him. “I think he can help us understand the importance of why the Runner program is beneficial to all of us.”
As the Director of Runners, Dean had an unofficial part of the conversation as a community leader and would speak to the citizens at public meetings to help sway the opinion of people who came. He was also Mr. Davies’ son and it was evident from the senior Davies’ expression that he needed to say something to the citizens that would support his father.
Dean walked into the middle of the floor and stood in between the Council and the residents who were attending the meeting. He smiled at the crowd and paced confidently back and forth with a thoughtful look. Audrey watched the people grow anxious as he stalled to gather his train of thought.
“There are two questions that need to be answered right now. First, are the Runners an essential part of running Roswell? And second, should we shut the gate? The answers to those are simple. Yes and no,” Dean looked at the angrily chittering crowd and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Roswell is unable to completely sustain itself at this point in time. We still rely heavily on trading with other communities and the small trading caravans that come through.”
People in the crowd started nodding in agreement, so he continued.
“We aren’t always going to live behind these walls. We all know they are a temporary measure. So, why go back to keeping them shut like we did when we first built them?” he asked.
“Because we don’t want to die!” a man contributed sarcastically.
“That’s a given though,” Dean agreed with a smirk. “We all know there is a very basic internet system in use right now that allows us to receive information from other towns, but there are places we need to keep in contact with that don’t have that luxury. Places like Artesia and Carlsbad.”
“But do we really need to send a Runner down to a mutated zone like Carlsbad?” Mr. Ruthers interjected. “We are risking the safety of everyone who is left by sending a runner down monthly.”
“The information the Runners bring the Council is valuable and will help us when the time comes for more extreme measures when dealing with the dregs,” Dean said.
“It’s hard to believe the Runners are more qualified to do anything the rest of us can,” a petite woman Audrey knew was named Melissa stood up. “If I wanted to pop on down to Artesia or head over to Albuquerque—or anywhere else for that matter—I could do it too, and I could get just as much information.”
Audrey wanted to scream at the small woman, but she had to stifle a laugh as she watched Dean rub his face the exact same way Mr. Davies had when Mr. Ruthers had annoyed him.
“Can you run a mile in nine and a half minutes if you were asked to?” He looked directly at her and crossed his arms over his chest.
Myrtle’s ears turned red and she shook her head no.
“Could you run or jog for six hours straight?” he asked as sincerely as he could without revealing he was angry, but Audrey could tell he was by the way he was tapping his toes while he waited for the woman’s answers.
Melissa shook her head again and sat down.
“I know a lot of you don’t see the Runners as a necessary part of life, but they are. Did you know that if it weren’t for Audrey’s latest run, we wouldn’t have known that Artesia was in
“Isn’t that why the internet is being kept up?” a man shouted from the back of the room.
Mr. Davies rolled his eyes and groaned. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with this hand. He looked over at the Runners to gauge their reaction and spotted Audrey fidgeting. He shook his head with raised eyebrows and a can-you-believe-this look. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.
“I am going to turn the time over to Dean, who is our current Director of Runners and Runner One,” Mr. Davies introduced him. “I think he can help us understand the importance of why the Runner program is beneficial to all of us.”
As the Director of Runners, Dean had an unofficial part of the conversation as a community leader and would speak to the citizens at public meetings to help sway the opinion of people who came. He was also Mr. Davies’ son and it was evident from the senior Davies’ expression that he needed to say something to the citizens that would support his father.
Dean walked into the middle of the floor and stood in between the Council and the residents who were attending the meeting. He smiled at the crowd and paced confidently back and forth with a thoughtful look. Audrey watched the people grow anxious as he stalled to gather his train of thought.
“There are two questions that need to be answered right now. First, are the Runners an essential part of running Roswell? And second, should we shut the gate? The answers to those are simple. Yes and no,” Dean looked at the angrily chittering crowd and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Roswell is unable to completely sustain itself at this point in time. We still rely heavily on trading with other communities and the small trading caravans that come through.”
People in the crowd started nodding in agreement, so he continued.
“We aren’t always going to live behind these walls. We all know they are a temporary measure. So, why go back to keeping them shut like we did when we first built them?” he asked.
“Because we don’t want to die!” a man contributed sarcastically.
“That’s a given though,” Dean agreed with a smirk. “We all know there is a very basic internet system in use right now that allows us to receive information from other towns, but there are places we need to keep in contact with that don’t have that luxury. Places like Artesia and Carlsbad.”
“But do we really need to send a Runner down to a mutated zone like Carlsbad?” Mr. Ruthers interjected. “We are risking the safety of everyone who is left by sending a runner down monthly.”
“The information the Runners bring the Council is valuable and will help us when the time comes for more extreme measures when dealing with the dregs,” Dean said.
“It’s hard to believe the Runners are more qualified to do anything the rest of us can,” a petite woman Audrey knew was named Melissa stood up. “If I wanted to pop on down to Artesia or head over to Albuquerque—or anywhere else for that matter—I could do it too, and I could get just as much information.”
Audrey wanted to scream at the small woman, but she had to stifle a laugh as she watched Dean rub his face the exact same way Mr. Davies had when Mr. Ruthers had annoyed him.
“Can you run a mile in nine and a half minutes if you were asked to?” He looked directly at her and crossed his arms over his chest.
Myrtle’s ears turned red and she shook her head no.
“Could you run or jog for six hours straight?” he asked as sincerely as he could without revealing he was angry, but Audrey could tell he was by the way he was tapping his toes while he waited for the woman’s answers.
Melissa shook her head again and sat down.
“I know a lot of you don’t see the Runners as a necessary part of life, but they are. Did you know that if it weren’t for Audrey’s latest run, we wouldn’t have known that Artesia was in
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