Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [262]
Horrie ate corn dodgers in single-minded silence.
Mark rummaged through his pockets and came up with a tiny scrap of cigar. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. "I would kill for a Lucky Strike," he said.
"You may well have the opportunity," Jason Gillcuddy said.
Mark grinned in the dark. "I can hope. That's why I volunteered."
"Really?" said Tim.
"Not really. Anything beats breaking rocks."
Jason Gillcuddy laughed at a private thought. "Let's see," he said. "You'd kill for a Lucky Strike. I suppose you'd maim for a Tareyton?"
"Right!" Mark roared approval.
"And shout insults for a Carlton," Hugo Beck said. They all laughed, but it died quickly; they were still nervous around Hugo Beck.
"Now you know why I'm here," Mark said. "But why you, Tim?"
Tim shook his head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. No, forget I said that. It feels like I owe somebody something … " The people he'd driven past. The cops working to unearth a hospital while a tidal wave marched toward them. " … and Eileen's pregnant."
When he didn't go on, Horrie Jackson called without looking back. "So?"
"So I'll have children. Don't you see?"
"I'm here," Hugo Beck said without being asked, "because nobody at the Stronghold would look at me."
"I'm glad you're here," Tim said. "If anyone wants to surrender, you tell 'em what it means."
Beck chewed that. "They don't have to know about me, do they?"
A look passed among them. "Not till they have to," Tim said quickly, and he turned to Jason. "You're the one I don't understand. You're Harry's friend. They couldn't possibly make you volunteer."
Jason chuckled. "No, I'm a genuine volunteer, all right. Had to. You ever read my books?" He went on before any of them could answer. "Full of the marvels of civilization, what great things science does for us. Now how could I not volunteer for this crazy mission?" Gillcuddy looked out at the dark night and darker water. "But there's places I'd rather be."
"Sure," Tim said. "The Savoy Hotel in London. With Eileen. That's what I want."
"And Hugo wants the Shire back," Mark said.
"No." Hugo Beck's voice was firm. "No, I want civilization." When nobody stopped him he went on, eagerly. "I want a hot car and some practice talking a cop out of giving me a ticket. I want Gone With The Wind on a noncommercial channel, no interruptions. I want dinner at Mon Grenier restaurant with a woman who can't spell 'ecology' but she's read the Kama Sutra."
"And spotted the mistakes," Mark said.
"You knew Mon Grenier?" Gillcuddy demanded.
"Sure. I lived in Tarzana. You've been there?"
"Mushroom salad." said Gillcuddy.
"Bouillabaisse. With a chilled Moselle," Tim said. They talked of meals they'd never eaten and now never would.
"And I missed most of my chances," Hugo Beck said. "I had to start a goddam commune. Fellows, let me tell you, it doesn't work."
"I'd never have guessed," Jason said. Hugo Beck retreated from the irony in Gillcuddy's voice, and the writer said quickly, "Anyway, we carry miracles. I think." He kicked a large sack that lay in the bottom of the boat. "Will this stuff work?"
"Forrester says it will," Mark said, "especially if you give it a good kick. But we don't have much with us. Hardy bargains hard."
Horrie Jackson looked back from his place at the wheel. "Jesus, I'll say he does. I'm here."
The drizzle turned gray and lighter gray. Ninety-three million miles eastward, the Sun must be placidly unaffected by the greatest disaster in written history. The boats floated on an endless sea dotted with debris. The corpses of men and animals were gone now. Horrie Jackson increased speed, but not by a lot. There were logs and bits of houses, inflated tires, the jetsam of civilization. Treetops showed like rectangular arrays of puffy bushes; but there were single trees, and some were just submerged. Any of that could tear the bottom out of their boat.
Hugo Beck called across the boat, "Hey, Mark. What