Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [79]
"Hey, Harvey."
"Yo, Gordie," Harvey said. He went over to the fence.
Gordie Vance held out a beer. "Brought you one," he said. "Saw you drive up."
"Thanks. You want to talk about something?" He hoped Gordie did. Vance hadn't been himself the last few weeks. There was something bothering him. Harvey could sense it without knowing what it was, and without Gordie knowing that Harvey knew.
"Where you going to be next Tuesday?" Gordie asked.
Harvey shrugged. "L.A. somewhere, I guess. I've got crews for the national stuff."
"But working," Gordie said. "Sure you don't want to come hiking? Good weather in the mountains. I get some time off next week."
"Good Lord," Harvey said. "I can't—"
"Why not? You really want to stick here for the end of the world?"
"It won't be the end of the world," Harvey said automatically. He caught the gleam in Vance's eye. "And anyway, if that Hammer doesn't fall and I haven't been busy covering it, it's the end of my world. No can do, Gordie. God. I'd like to get away, but no."
"Figures," Vance said. "Loan me your kid."
"What?"
"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Vance said. "Suppose that thing does hit. Andy'd have a much better chance up in the hills with me. And if it doesn't—well, you wouldn't want him to miss a good hike just to hang around in the L.A. smog, would you?"
"You make plenty of sense," Harvey said. "But … where'll you be? I mean, in case something does happen, how do I find you and Andy."
Vance's face took on a serious look. "You know damned well what your chances of living through it are if it does hit and you're in L.A … "
"Yeah. Slim and none," Harvey said.
" … and besides, I'll be just about where you'd want to go. Out of Quaking Aspen. The old Silver Knapsack area. Low enough to get out of in bad weather, high enough to be safe no matter what happens. Unless we're under it, and that's a random chance, isn't it?"
"Sure. You ask Andy about this?"
"Yeah. He said he'd like to go, if it's okay with you."
"Who all's going?"
"Just me and seven boys," Gordie said. "Marie's got charity work to do, so she can't come … "
Harvey envied Gordie Vance just one thing: Marie Vance went on hikes. On the other hand, she wasn't very easy to live with in town.
" … which means under scout rules the girls can't come," Gordie was saying. "And some of the others—well, they're just not available. Hell, Harvey, you know the area. We'll be fine."
Harvey nodded. It was safe trail and a good area. "Right," he said. He drank most of the beer. "You all right, Gordie?" he asked suddenly.
Vance's face changed, subtly, and he was trying to hide the change. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just don't seem yourself lately."
"Work," Vance said. "Too much work lately. This hike will fix everything."
"Good," Harvey said.
The shower felt good. He let hot water pound on his neck and he thought: Too late. The sensible, phlegmatic ones would stick it out, with the odds still hundreds, maybe thousands, to one in their favor. The panicky ones had already bought supplies and struck for the hills. There were also the sensible, cautious ones like Gordie Vance, who'd planned his hike months before, and who could say he wasn't letting a comet spoil his vacation—but who'd be in the hills anyway.
Then there were the ones in between. There must be tens of millions, and Harv Randall was one of them, and look at him now: scared too late, and nothing to do but wait it out. In five days the nucleus of Hamner-Brown would be past, on its way to that strange, cold region beyond the planets …
Or it wouldn't be.
"There must be something." Harvey said, talking to himself in the privacy of a roaring shower. "Something I can do. What do I want out of this? If that damned dirty snowball ends the blessings of civilization and the advertising industry