“Oh?” said Justin. “And why is that, if I might be so inquisitive?”
“Jerry?” said Zero, turning to one of the mechanics. “You care to field that?”
“Well, it’s solar powered, for one thing,” said Jerry proudly, stepping up to indicate the panel on the roof, “so no need for gas or hydro. It’s got solid tires, made of ceramics, so you can’t get a flat, and the chassis and frame are reinforced with solid, welded steel plates. It’s got a broad-scan radio, a separate two-way radio system for localized com situations, plus infrared and ultraviolet sensors so you can see things in the dark. It’s got double-strength shocks, electricals, and servos, triple-strength halogen headlights, and can carry up to eight people comfortably. Ten in a pinch.”
“Wow!” said Justin, genuinely impressed. “That’s pretty amazing.”
“Thought you’d like it, “ said Baron Zero. “And it sure beats nothing, huh Doc? Now, she won’t go too fast—only about forty miles an hour at top speed—but she’s tough and dependable and, well, as I see it, just about your best shot at the coast. So? Whataya think?”
“Amazing,” said Justin. “Simply amazing. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I had thought we were going to have to walk.”
“All the way to Cali?” said Zero. “No, you take the car. You’re gonna need it.”
“Does this mean,” said Justin cagily, “that you’ve decided that we have a chance to make it there after all?”
“No, not really,” Zero shrugged. “But what kinda guy would I be if I just cut you loose and sent you out with nothing but the clothes on your back? I mean, hell, you might not stand much of a chance, but you sure deserve a shot. All I’m doing is trying to even the odds a little.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” Justin said. “Very much. Especially after all you’ve done for us already.”
“Oh, I ain’t done yet,” said Zero slyly, gently guiding Justin away from the mechanics. “This car is just the icing on the cake. See, we’re gonna pack this thing with everything you’ll need—food, water, guns, ammo, you name it. Plus, I’m gonna send one of my people with you, if that’s OK.”
“May I ask why?”
“Mainly ‘cause he wants to go,” said Zero. “But also because I think you’re a good guy and deserve all the help you can get. Sure, this mission of yours is crazy and probably hopeless, but then what isn’t nowadays, right? And this guy could make the difference.”
“Of whom are we speaking?” asked Justin. “Is it someone I’ve met?”
Baron Zero nodded. “You remember Cornell, right?”
“Of course. Your head of security.”
“Well, he’s originally from California,” said Zero. “San Diego, specifically, and he wants to get back there to see if any of his family made it through the Fall. He’s a good guy, Doc, and what’s more, he’s a demon in a fight. If I was you, I’d agree to let him go.”
“Very well,” said Justin, thinking that he could most certainly use all the help he could get. “Mr. Cornell will accompany us. And I welcome the assistance, and all of the supplies.”
“Eh,” Zero said dismissively. “You’re gonna need it a whole lot more than we will. So there you have it, Doc. My humble contribution to saving the human race, I guess. And in a day or two, the scouts’ll came back, we’ll get an idea of what’s out there, and then? Well, then I guess you’ll be on your way.”
“Such as it is,” said Justin gloomily. “I just wish we hadn’t lost all of our vehicles and gear, back with those horrible cannibals.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” said Zero. “But then, you didn’t lose everything and, well, when you think about it, we’ve all lost quite a bit, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” said Justin, “we have.” Then he had to ask, just to be civil and reciprocating, despite the fact that he really didn’t want to, “But what about your… condition? Your hernia, that is.”
“What about it?”
“Well,” said Justin, “I probably shouldn’t bring it up, since you didn’t seem prone to, but I could, if you were so inclined, perform an operation. Not that I want to, of course, but…”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” said Zero. “I mean, you’re obviously perfectly capable and all, it’s just, well, you said it yourself. You’re an epidemiologist, not a surgeon. I think I’ll just hold off on that for the time being.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Justin said, suppressing a sigh of relief. “And from what you’ve told me, I don’t think it will be life-threatening.”
“So, alright, then,” said Baron Zero. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Like, at the moment? Because otherwise, these are my Office Hours and I really should get back.”
“No, I think that’s all,” said Justin. “And thanks again. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it, Doc,” said Zero jovially. “Hell, if you actually make it Cali, just put in a good word for me, huh?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tom Hartingford: Alcoholic, certifiably unstable, a spouse-beater and an abuser of illegal drugs, convicted three times of corruption and graft. Is this really the sort of man we want to reelect to Congress?
As he negotiated the House after the meeting with Zero, wandering a bit, Justin came upon none other than the Old Man, apparently delivering some sort of lecture. Seated on the top step of a staircase, he was surrounded on all sides by a few dozen House residents, with Teresa at his feet, and was, in his usual bombastic fashion, holding forth to what appeared a more or less rapt audience:
“…and it never was a democracy, anyway,” he was saying as Justin arrived. “It was a representative republic. A democracy means one man, one vote, and that sure as shit wasn’t the case! Far as I can see, though, the main problem was that people were just plain stupid. Not surprising, considering the way the GOP was always gutting the public school system, one way or another, but still, these people were fucking dumb, OK? They swallowed just about every single lie, no matter how crazy and contradictory, and they voted for these dumb-ass Neocon jerks like they were the Second Coming! Like, oh yeah, let’s spend like a drunken sailor on leave, but no way will we raise taxes to pay for it. And especially not on the rich! No, if anybody’s gonna pay, it’ll be the regular Joes, the working people, and, like I said, they were just too goddamned stupid to see that they were bein’ ripped off! So there you go. That’s about all I remember about that time, turn of the century U.S. Greedy stuffed shirts and a voting public too stupid to see the problem.”
Suddenly a dozen urgent hands shot up in the crowd, just as if Lampert was a president or CEO fielding questions at a press conference. The Old Man paused, had a sip from a can of beer he’d gotten from somewhere, and surveyed the throng, obviously about to field another lucky resident’s question. Seeing an opportunity, Justin interrupted, striding through the crowd and up the stairs. Lampert watched him approach, drinking his beer, and then grinned.
“Howdy, Doc!” he said, his usually sharp eyes a bit unfocused. “Just givin’ the kids here a little history lesson.”
“So I see,” said Justin. “But I think maybe it’s time for you to return to our rooms. It looks like you’ve had a big day.”
Lampert grunted and polished off the can of beer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said grudgingly. “I am gettin’ kinda sleepy.” He looked to the assembled House dwellers. “I guess that’s it, children,” he said expansively. “Thus endeth the lesson for today. And remember: read all you can and don’t believe everything you read!”