“I’ll bring tea,” Maureen said. She went to the men turning the cement mixer. “Harvey, Dad wants you up at the house.”
“Right,” Harvey Randall said. “Brad, you stay with Dr. Forrester, and make sure—”
“I know,” Brad Wagoner said. “I think he should get some sleep.”
“I can’t.” Forrester was far enough away that they didn’t think he could hear them… and he looked like death warmed over anyway. The dead don’t hear. “I have to get to the other barn now.” He started to get up.
“Dammit, stay in that chair,” Wagoner shouted. “I’ll wheel you over.”
Harvey followed Maureen out of the barn. He zipped up all his clothes against the wind, and they walked on in silence for a moment. Presently he caught up to her. “I don’t suppose there’s anything to talk about,” he said.
She shook her head.
“You’re really in love with him?”
She turned and her expression was… strange. “I don’t know. I think Dad wants me to be. Wouldn’t that turn you off? Breeding for politics! It’s Johnny’s rank Dad wants. I think he believes in Colorado Springs.”
“Oddly phrased. Well, it certainly would be convenient.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? Harv, Johnny and I were sleeping together before you ever met me, and not because I was ordered to, either.”
“Yeah?” He smiled suddenly, and she saw and wondered; but he wasn’t going to mention George Christopher’s tirade. No. “Have I got a chance?”
“Don’t ask me now. Wait till Johnny gets back. Wait till it’s all over.”
Over? When is that? He pushed the thought away. Despair would be too easy. First Hammerfall and Loretta dead. The drive through nightmare, with Harv Randall curled around his wounded ego, a dead weight in the passenger seat. The fight to be ready for winter, for Fimbulwinter. The glaciers had been here once; every damn boulder in that damn wall was a reminder. Harv tasted the urge to howl at the heavens: Isn’t that enough? Wasn’t it enough without cannibals, war gases, thermite?
“You didn’t say no,” he said. “I’ll hang onto that.”
She didn’t answer, and that was encouraging, too. “I know how you must feel,” he said.
“Do you?” She was bitter. “I’m the prize in a contest. I always thought it was a joke, poor little rich girl. Suddenly nothing is funny anymore.”
They reached the house and went in. Senator Jellison and Al Hardy had maps spread out on the living-room floor. Eileen Hamner held more papers, Hardy’s eternal lists.
“You look frozen,” Jellison said. “There’s something hot in the Thermos. I won’t call it tea.”
“Thanks.” Harvey poured a cup. It smelled like root beer, add tasted much like that, but it was hot and it warmed him.
“Progress?” Hardy asked.
“Some. The thermit bombs are coming along, but the fuses have to be made. Over in Hal’s barn they’re cooking up a god-awful brew that Forrester says will be mustard gas, but he’s not sure how long it takes to finish the reaction. He’s cooking it slow so as not to take chances.”
“We may need it quicker than we think,” Jellison said.
Harvey looked up quickly. “Sir?”
“Deke’s people sent us a message on the CB an hour ago,” Jellison said. “Couldn’t make it out. Alice took another CB out to get on top of Turtle Mountain.”
“Alice? Turtle Mountain?” Harvey was incredulous.
“It’s in line of sight to us and Deke,” Al Hardy said. “And communications are better lately. It should work.”
“But Alice? A twelve-year-old girl?”
Hardy looked at him strangely. “Do you know anyone else who’d have a better chance of getting a horse up that mountain at night in the snow?”
Harvey started to say that of course he did, but then he thought better of it. If a horse and rider could climb that mountain in the dark, Alice and her stallion could. But it didn’t seem right, to send young girls out into the snow and dark. Wasn’t that what civilization was all about, to protect Alice Cox?
“Meanwhile,” Hardy continued, “we called in some reserves. Just in case. They’re loading up your TravelAII.”
“But… what do you think Deke was saying?” Harvey asked.
“Hard to say.” Jellison sounded tired. He looked as exhausted as Forrester, and had the same gray color. His voice was grim. “You know the New Brotherhood tried an attack on the power plant this afternoon.”
“No.” Harvey felt relief. The power plant was over fifty miles away. The New Brotherhood was there, not here. They’d be fighting Baker. Relief, then guilt, and he shrugged off the guilt because it was the last thing he needed now. “What’s happening?”
“They were in boats,” Al Hardy said. “They sent in a surrender demand, and when Mayor Allen told them to go to hell—”
“What? Wait! Mayor Allen?”
Hardy showed his irritation at the interruption. “Mayor Bentley Allen is in charge at the San Joaquin Nuclear Plant, and no, I don’t know the details. The point is, Randall, that the New Brotherhood only had about two hundred people for the attack on the power plant. It was not much of an attack, and it did not succeed, and they did not renew it.”
Harvey looked over at Maureen. She was gathering up the Thermos and some honey and brown sugar in a briefcase. She’d known about the fight at the power plant, and she didn’t look as if she’d lost anyone there. He asked, “Casualties?”
“Light. One killed, of the Mayor’s police. Three wounded, don’t know how bad. None of them were from our relief force,” Hardy said.
“Hm. Good news from all over. I knew Bentley Allen,” Harvey said. “I know he was on duty in central L.A. at Hammerfall. He’s some kind of man, to get out of that! Funny, though, how we always assume anyone who isn’t at the Stronghold must be dead.”
Al, Maureen, the Senator They watched him thoughtfully, seriously. “Not so funny as all that,” he said. “All right, so two hundred New Brotherhood attacked the power plant. That means… What does it mean?” Harvey followed the thought to a conclusion he didn’t like. “They thought the power plant would be easy. They sent their main strength somewhere else. Here? Sure, here. Before we can get ready.”
Hardy nodded. His lips pulled tight in a thin line, not a grin, a gesture of self-disgust. “Dammit, we did the best we could.”
“I was in charge,” Jellison said.
“Yes, sir, but I should have thought of it. But we were so busy trying to organize for the winter. We never had time to think about defense.”
“Hell, we’ve got defenses,” Harvey said. “You couldn’t expect a whole damned army to show up in the San Joaquin Valley.”
“Why couldn’t I?” Hardy demanded. “I should have. The point is, I didn’t, and now we all have to pay for my mistakes.”
“Look,” Harvey said. “If you hadn’t got us all working on food, there’d be nothing here to fight for. You don’t have to—”
The CB set beside Eileen came alive. Alice Cox’s voice came through clearly, high-pitched, young and afraid, but every word intelligible. “Senator, this is Alice.”
“Go ahead, Alice,” Eileen said into the mike.
“Mr. Wilson reports they are under heavy attack,” Alice Cox said. “There are a lot of them. Hundreds. Mr. Wilson says over five hundred. Mr. Wilson says he can’t hold them. He’s sending his people out now, and he wants instructions.”
“Holy shit,” Harvey Randall said.
“Tell her we’ll have orders for them in five minutes,” Senator Jellison said.
Eileen nodded. “Alice, can they wait five minutes?”
“I think so. I’ll tell Mr. Wilson.”
“You don’t sound surprised,” Harvey said. “You knew already.”
Al Hardy turned away. Senator Jellison spoke carefully. “Surprised? No. I had hoped the New Brotherhood would wait until their deadline ran out, but I am not surprised that they did not.”
“So what do we do now?” Harvey asked.