"You think I'm off the deep end, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. I think you're just as crazy as the rest of us. But at least your craziness is specific. Jim, you've been hypersensitized to this issue to the point where you can't see anything else."
"I don't feel safe here," I said it very quietly.
"I got that. This is as safe as it gets."
"No, it isn't. There's more we can do."
"We don't have the resources."
"We can't afford not too."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"Why don't you listen to someone who knows more about it than you do?"
"Jim-" Betty-John's expression hardened. "This conversation isn't getting us anywhere. I'm not going to authorize any more fences or put guns in the hands of children or ask the military governor for assistance or anything else. And if you want to stay here, you had better get used to the idea that this is the final word on this subject."
"If that's the final word, B-Jay, then maybe I can't stay here anymore!"
B-Jay looked as if I'd slapped her. The room was suddenly cold. She said slowly, "I think you'd better go now, Jim. And maybe you'd better reevaluate what kind of contribution you can make here."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't think we should talk anymore right now."
"No, tell me!"
She said slowly, "Jim, if that's how you really feel, then perhaps you'd better look at moving to someplace where you do feel safe."
"For the sake of my children, I may have to."
"No," she said. "The children stay. You go."
"They're legally mine."
"I can fix that too."
"Huh?"
"The well-being of the child, Jim."
"You need grounds."
"I have grounds. You're sexually abusing Tommy."
I sank back into my chair as if I'd been slammed with a brick and just stared at her. "I don't believe this," I said. "You're a goddamned hypocrite."
"You'd better believe it. I mean what I say. I'm tired of hearing about the Chtorr. I've busted my ass to get this place working. A lot of us have. And we're all getting pretty annoyed with you coming in here and telling us how it has to be instead. You're wasting a lot of our time and a lot of our resources, and we're all pretty much fed up with you. If you're not willing to be a part of the solution, then please don't be a part of anything here."
"Fine," I said. I stood up. "I hope to God you don't one day walk out the door and see Chtorrans coming down that street, because then it'll be too late to change your mind."
"I can live with myself, Jim. Now I want you to learn how to live with yourself."
"I'm doing fine, lady." I strode out of her office and headed for home.
The kids and I could leave for San Francisco right after dinner, and I could probably have us a plane for Hawaii in the morning.
41
Day of Blood
"Violence is the last word of the illiterate. Also the first."
-SOLOMON SHORT
But what if she was right?
What if I had fallen off the deep end?
That's the problem with being crazy-you have to take other people's word for it, because it doesn't look crazy from inside. I strode up the street. Some of the kids were playing a game, the object of which seemed to be to see how much noise you could make while moving a soccer ball up and down the road. I crossed to the park to get out of their way. I could smell honeysuckle and pine and roses.
Maybe I should trust B-Jay. I didn't want to leave here; I liked it here.
But it was a trap. There was no place to run to. If someone was determined enough to come over the hiking ridge, they could surprise the whole village. A pride of Chtorrans could sweep the length of the peninsula in minutes.
What would it take to make this place safe?
We could mine the hiking ridge, we could bury booby traps the whole length of it. But that still wouldn't be sufficient. Nothing short of blowing up the isthmus would work. And we couldn't do that, because all of the service cables for the phones ran through the isthmus, as well as the power cables that fed electricity to Santa Cruz. Somewhere out there were five great turbines, churning silently in the ocean current.
What else could we do? We could evacuate.
Betty-John wouldn't even consider it.
And she was right. Where else in the world could she find facilities like this?
No, the only alternative was to move everyone to the south end of the island and establish very tight security, constant patrols, and hold regular classes and drills for every person on the island. We should start teaching the teenagers how to use grenade launchers and torches.
But B-Jay didn't want the kids growing up in a police state. "That kind of stuff creates an atmosphere of fear and paranoia." Behind me, I could still hear the children screaming and hollering. They sounded happy. B-Jay was right, they didn't need fear and paranoia.
But was I wrong? They needed to be safe! That was where the argument had started. Dammit. I couldn't get it out of my head. The sentences replayed themselves in endless loops.
And all I wanted was for us to be safe!
I knew what was happening inside my head.
It was that survival mind that Delandro had talked about. The mind is a computer. It wants to survive. It will do whatever it perceives as necessary to survive. There are no limits to what it will ask for. The more you think you have to protect, the more vigorously you will try to defend it.
It's neither good nor bad, it's just the way the mind works. And I wanted to protect my kids.
I realized I was walking down to the hiking ridge again. I wanted to see if any more of the worm lines had been disturbed. I wanted to see what else I could do. Every problem has a solution. There had to be one here.
Behind me, the screaming grew louder. And suddenly took on a shrill sound. I whirled around to look.
The children were shrieking and scattering in all directions. I heard it before I saw it.
"Chtorrrr! Chtorrrrrr!"
Three Chtorrans broke out of the park, a squad of men and women running with them!
Huh-?
And even before I asked, I knew what had happened.
They'd come over the ridge and gone straight into the park. Not down the street, they'd have been seen immediately. They used the park as cover and went to the heart of Family.
The Chtorrans plowed into the children like bulldozers. I yelled. I started running toward them-
-then zigged into the park and started heading for home. And the Jeep.
The alarm went off as I was running. It was a flat double-note wail, rising and falling. I hurtled down a grass slope, over the little Japanese bridge that crossed the brook, and up the opposite side. There were children standing confused, trying to figure out what the siren meant.
I pointed ahead. "Run for home! Get out of the park! Get out of the streets! Do it as fast as you can!" Where were my kids?
As I came charging out of the park, I saw Holly standing in front of the house staring down the street. There were sounds of rifle fire coming from the village. Dammit.
I scooped her up in my arms and went charging through the front door.
"You have to hide, sweetheart. This isn't a game anymore!"
"No, Daddy! No!"
I went down on one knee and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Listen to me, I love you! And you have to hide!" God forgive me. I shoved her into the closet and locked the door. I grabbed my torch and ran.