"Who turned off the sirens?"
"Who's in charge now?"
Barnes raised his voice over it. "Everyone will be given a clear process for legitimate relief. If you have been offered a buyout under pressure, do not sign anything today. State investigators will be on site."
Martha bent carefully and picked up her phone from where it had fallen. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. The recording light was still on.
She looked up at Barnes. "My audio file was already sent," she said, voice steady.
Barnes nodded. "Good."
Dean leaned closer to Martha, quiet. "Now comes the backlash."
Martha swallowed. "From who?"
Dean's gaze slid to Pell, who was already moving toward an exit with the stiff calm of a man who refused to look panicked. "From the people who still think he owns this town."
As Pell reached the aisle, a man in the crowd stood up and shouted, "Leave him alone! He's bringing jobs!"
Another shouted back, "He's stealing our land!"
The room started to split down invisible fault lines, fear versus anger, loyalty versus betrayal.
Barnes signaled to his troopers. They began guiding Rusk toward the doors, keeping the path clear, preventing the crowd from turning into a mob.
Halverson stood on the stage, hands empty now, staring at the room like it had slipped out of his grip forever.
Martha felt Dean's hand lightly touch her shoulder, just a grounding gesture, not ownership.
"You're going to have to speak again," he said.
Martha nodded slowly, feeling the weight of it. "I will."
She stepped forward into the aisle, lifted her papers again, and opened her mouth.
Then a loud crack sounded outside the auditorium, followed by the sudden sharp stutter of the building's lights as the power flickered.
Not a storm. Not thunder. Something else.
The lights went out completely.
The blackout swallowed the auditorium so fast it felt physical, like a hand over the town's mouth. One second there were faces and phones and uniforms under fluorescent light.
The next there was only darkness, a rising wall of panic, and the sudden scrape of chairs as people stood at once.
Somebody screamed. Another voice shouted, "Is it another tornado?"
A child started crying somewhere near the middle rows. The room filled with the sound of bodies shifting blind, bumping shoulders, knocking into armrests.
Trooper Barnes's voice cut through the dark, sharp and controlled. "Everybody stay where you are. Do not rush the exits."
A few phone flashlights clicked on, scattered points of white that swung wildly at first, catching startled eyes and open mouths.