Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [243]
"Is there anything left of this country outside Colorado?" Al Hardy asked.
"Don't know again," Baker said. "With all that rain, I'd think the Midwest is drowned out—no crops, no transportation, lots of people starving—"
"And killing each other for what's left," Al Hardy said. He looked at each of the others in turn, and they all nodded agreement: The Stronghold was lucky. More than luck, because they had the Senator, and they had order, a tiny island of safety in a world that had very nearly been killed.
Why us? Harvey Randall wondered. Johnny Baker's report hadn't surprised him, not really. He had thought it out long before. There was the matter of no radio communications. True, the constant static made it unlikely they'd receive messages, but there ought to be something, once in awhile, and there almost never was, which had to mean that nobody was broadcasting, not with any real power, not constantly.
But it was different to know they were one of the few pockets of survivors.
What had happened to the world? A revolution a week in Latin America. Maybe that was the answer everywhere. What the Hammer and the Sino-Soviet war hadn't done, people were busily doing to themselves.
Al Hardy broke the silence. "It doesn't look as if the U.S. Cavalry will come charging over the hill to rescue us."
Deke Wilson's laugh was bitter. "The Army's turned cannibal. What we saw of it, anyway."
"We'll have to fight," George Christopher said. "That goddam Montross—"
"George, you can't be sure he's in charge," Al Hardy said.
"Who cares? If he's not, it's worse, it's the fucking cannibals. We'll have to fight sooner or later, we may as well do it while we've got Deke's people on our side."
"I'll go for that," Deke Wilson said. "Unless … "
"Unless what?" Christopher asked, his voice suddenly suspicious.
Wilson spread his hands. Harvey couldn't help noticing. Wilson had been a big man, who was now two sizes too small for his body and clothes. And he was scared.
"Unless you'll let us in," Wilson said. "We can hold that gang off. You've got hills to defend. I don't. All I've got is what I can build, no ridgelines, no natural boundaries, nothing. But in here we can hold the bastards off until they starve to death. Maybe we can help that along. Go on raids and burn out what they've stored up."
"That's obscene," Harvey Randall said. "Aren't there enough people starving without burning crops and food? Jesus! All over the world, what the Hammer didn't get, we're doing to ourselves! Does it have to happen here, too?"
"We couldn't feed all of your people for the winter, Deke," Al Hardy said. "Sorry, but I know. The margin's just too thin. We can't do it."
"We don't know enough, not yet," Jellison said. "Maybe it's possible to come to terms with the New Brotherhood."
"Bullshit," George Christopher said.
"It is not bullshit," Harvey Randall said. "I knew Montross, and dammit, he is not crazy, he is not a cannibal, and he is not an evil man even if he did come onto your land and try to help the farm workers organize a union—"
"That will do," Jellison said. He was very firm about it. "George, I suggest that we wait for Harry. We have to know more about conditions out there. I gather that Deke knows almost nothing he hasn't told us. Harvey, have you time to help, or do you have other work?" Jellison's tone made it plain that Harvey Randall wouldn't be needed in the library just now.
"If you can spare me, there are a few things … " Harvey got up and went to the door. He almost chuckled when he heard George Christopher coming behind him.
"I'll see the maps when they're done," Christopher was saying. "I have some work too. Nice to meet you, General Baker." He followed Harvey out. "Just a minute."
Harvey walked slowly, wondering what would happen now. The Senator had obviously been unhappy about Harvey's outburst. As well he might have been, Harvey thought. And he tried to separate us, and it didn't work …
"So what do we do now?" Christopher was saying.
Harvey shrugged. "We just don't know enough. Besides, we do have a few days.