Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [169]
There was a long silence. Then one of the councilmen got up. "I reckon that dam will hold the day out. If the water don't come too fast it can't stop my truck anyway. I got a big ten-wheeler. I'll go."
"Not alone," Jellison warned. "And not unarmed."
"I'll send my constables down with him," Hartman said.
"What happens to the stuff?" George Christopher demanded.
"We share," Jellison said.
"Share. If you share with me, it means you expect me to share with you," Christopher said. "Not sure I like that."
"Dammit, George, we're in this together," Mayor Seitz said.
"Are we? Who's we?" Christopher demanded.
"Us. Your neighbors. Your friends," one of the councilmen said.
"That I'll go along with," Christopher told them. "My neighbors. My friends. But I won't put myself out for a lot of flatlanders. Not if they're finished anyway." The big man seemed to have trouble expressing himself. "Look, I got as much Christian charity as anybody here, but I won't starve my own people to help them." He started to leave.
"Where are you going, George?" Chief Hartman demanded.
"Senator's got a good idea. I'm getting my brother and heading for the flats with my truck. Lots of stuff down there we're going to need. No sense in letting the dam break on it." He went out before anyone could say more to him.
"You're going to have trouble with him," Mayor Seitz said.
"I am?" Jellison said.
"Sure, who else? I'm a feedstore owner, Senator. I can call myself Mayor, but I'm not ready for this. I expect you're in charge here. Right?"
There was a chorus of agreement from the others. It surprised no one.
George Christopher and his brother Ray drove down the highway toward Porterville. Lake Success lay on their right high banks rose to the top of the ridgeline on their left. Rain fell steadily. Already the lake had risen nearly to the bridge where the highway crossed. Chunks of mud washed down from the ridge above and covered the road. The big farm truck went through the mud patches without slowing.
"Not much traffic," Ray said.
"Not yet." George drove grimly, his mouth a set line, his bull neck arched toward the steering wheel. "But it won't be long. All those people. They'll come up the road looking for high ground—"
"Most'll stop in Porterville," Ray said. "It's a couple of hundred feet higher than the San Joaquin."
"Was," George said. "With those quakes you can't tell. Land shifts, raises up and down. Anyway, when the dam goes, Porterville goes. They won't stay there."
Ray didn't say anything. He never argued with George. George was the only one in the family who'd gone to college. GI Bill. He hadn't finished, but he'd learned something while he was there.
"Ray, what do they eat?" George asked suddenly.
"I don't know—"
"You ready to see your kids starve?" George demanded.
"It won't come to that."
"Won't it? People all over the place. Salt rain running out in the San Joaquin. Lower San Joaquin fills up. Porterville washes out when the dam goes. People headed for high ground, and that's us. We'll have 'em everywhere, camped on the roads, stuffed into the schoolhouse, in barns, everywhere. All hungry. Plenty of food at first. Enough for everybody for awhile. Ray, you can't look at a hungry kid and not feed him."
Ray didn't say anything.
"Think about it. While there's food, we'll feed people. Would you turn people away while you've still got livestock? Ready to stew your dogs to feed a bunch of Porterville hippies?"
"There aren't any hippies in Porterville."
"You know what I mean."
Ray thought it through. They would come through Porterville. To the north and south were cities of ten million each, and if only one in ten thousand of them lived long enough to reach Porterville and turn east …
Now Ray's mouth formed a grim line like his brother's. Muscles stood out of his neck like thick cords. They were both big; the whole family ran big. When they were younger, George and Ray sometimes went to the tough bars looking for fights. The only time they'd ever been beaten, they'd gone home and come