The Winter Tyrant-Chapter 14: Incitement

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.
Chapter 14: Incitement

Avery and Richard waited at the community center for a long while, expecting good news. When the representatives of the HOA finally returned, they did not parade back through the building’s doors like victorious conquerors bearing spoils of war.

Instead, they dragged their feet, sulking like men who had been ambushed before ever reaching the front lines.

The only one among them who seemed remotely vindicated was the HOA president who had led the charge.

Avery took one look at her empty hands and stormed forward, fists clenched as she struggled to restrain herself from shouting at the woman outright.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded. "Where’s the food? Where’s the water? Why isn’t Dean here with you?"

The HOA president regarded Avery with a look of practiced arrogance, her voice little more than a whisper as she pursed her lips.

"You were right," she said. "That man is a handful. He threatened to gun us down in the street if we even approached his door. A ridiculous claim, of course. No one would throw their life away over a little storm."

Her words carried across the hall, drawing the attention of those who had previously been indifferent to the dispute.

"We are a community," she continued, her tone sharpening. "And while this storm will soon pass, it is completely inappropriate for one resident to hoard supplies while families with children are freezing and starving as we speak. To threaten violence simply because we asked him to give back to the community he belongs to? Such savage behavior cannot be tolerated."

Avery nodded along as Richard voiced his agreement.

"Damn right," he said. "That selfish bastard will let us all freeze while he lives like a king with heated floors."

In truth, Richard had no idea what the state of Dean’s house actually was. No one did. They only knew his intercom still worked, which meant he still had power; and that alone made his home more desirable than anywhere else.

But the details didn’t matter. The idea that Dean had more than he needed and was holding onto it with threats of violence was enough to ignite resentment among the crowd.

The murmurs didn’t rise all at once. They crept outward in pieces; half-spoken thoughts, grievances aired just loudly enough to be heard.

"I heard his place still has heat," someone muttered.

"My pipes froze two nights ago," another replied. "Kids haven’t stopped coughing since."

None of them knew if Dean’s house truly had warmth to spare. None of them knew what he actually possessed behind those reinforced walls. But each sentence added weight, stacking inconvenience atop fear, fear atop resentment.

Someone recalled how Dean had always kept to himself. Someone else mentioned the renovations he’d made without permission. Another wondered aloud why his lights still worked when everyone else’s had gone dark.

Avery didn’t interrupt, she didn’t need to. She simply nodded along, eyes downcast, listening intently; only occasionally repeating a phrase back to the group.

"You really think he’d help if things got worse?"

"Would you feel safe sending your kids near someone like that?"

"What happens when he’s the only one left with power?"

Each question landed softly, but the answers formed on their own.

The HOA president watched it all unfold with a practiced eye. She noted who spoke first, who stayed quiet, who avoided eye contact. She could already tell who would fall in line later; and who would need more convincing.

This wasn’t chaos. It was consensus forming.

By the time the room settled, no one was talking about supplies anymore. They were talking about fairness, about responsibility, and about what couldn’t be allowed to continue.

And without ever saying his name again, Dean had been judged.

"Who the hell does this guy think he is?" someone shouted. "Does he plan to extort us while the storm lasts?"

Once the notion took hold, it spread rapidly. Avery saw her opportunity and seized it.

"I didn’t want to bring this up," she said hesitantly, lowering her voice. "But when I went there earlier today... you may not know this, but Dean is my fiancé. We were supposed to be married in the fall."

A murmur rippled through the room.

"A month ago, he shut me out completely. I tried to give him space, but he’s done nothing but lash out at me... violently."

She wiped at her eyes as the reaction she hoped for took shape.

Men in the crowd shouted their outrage.

"That bastard!"

"I’ll wring his neck!"

Several women stepped forward to console Avery as she continued.

"Richard here is Dean’s best friend. They’ve known each other since childhood. I came to him when I grew worried about Dean’s sudden change in behavior. By the time we finished talking, my car was snowed in. I’ve been staying with Richard ever since; Dean won’t let me anywhere near his house."

She paused, letting the implication settle.

"When we went to check on him today, he refused to meet us at the door. And when I begged him for help, just a little, he said he would only do so if I gave him my mother’s wedding ring. The only thing I have left to remember her by."

Richard glanced at Avery, recognizing the lie immediately. He knew her mother was still alive. But the crowd didn’t; and that was all that mattered.

The reaction was immediate. Even those who had tried to remain neutral now joined in.

"That’s sick!"

"Extorting his own fiancée?"

"I didn’t think it was my place to say anything," Avery continued, her voice trembling. "But we can’t allow someone like that to stay here. This cannot stand."

The HOA president knew Avery was lying. She knew it without question.

She said nothing.

Instead, she gave Avery a subtle nod of approval.

Between them, the outcome was already decided. Dean’s image within the community had been thoroughly defamed.

With him recast as a common enemy, it would be far easier to rally the neighborhood when the time came to seize his supplies.

Now all they needed was a tragedy; something to turn simmering resentment into unrestrained rage.