“Who cares?” said Donovan. “They work.”
Cardan blew out a cloud of smoke, smiled, and said, “Steam engines and diesels started by compressed air. Will that do it?”
“Ought to,” said Donovan.
“And,” said Cardan, “oil and gasoline mantle-lanterns for light?”
Maclane said, “They give a light that can compete for brightness with electricity. But those mantles are fragile. We’d better be sure we’ve got plenty of spares.”
Cardan nodded in agreement, studied the glowing tip of his cigar for a moment, blew out a cloud of smoke, and said, “Good. Now the question is, what do we do? Do we stick around here or do we dear out now?”
“Wait maybe three days,” Donovan said, “and this town is going to blow wide-open. Transportation, power and light are gone. To a large extent, heat is knocked out. All of a sudden we’ve got less capability for actual work and haulage than they had in seventeen-sixty, because then, at least, they had horses and oxen. With this new setup, all of a sudden we just aren’t in any shape to care for anywhere near the number of people that are going to have to be cared for. It’s going to be every man for himself. And there are a lot of of people in this part of the country.”
“Don’s right,” Maclane agreed. “If we could do any good by staying here, we should stay. But this thing is too big. This isn’t a question of a man putting his finger in a hole in the dike and keeping out the flood. It’s a question of the whole dike collapsing at once. Anything we might do wouldn’t have time to have any effect. We’d just be drowned.”
Donovan said, “Let’s head for Montana, Chief. That’s less-settled country; they’re used to rough conditions there, and we’ve got our test site there—plenty of buildings and equipment.”
Cardan glanced questioningly at Brian and Carl. Brian said, “It’s a long trip, but that diesel truck we saw did get through. The only thing is, what if, at some section of the road, there was a traffic jam at the time the cars’ ignition systems were knocked out?”
“So that,” said Cardan, “there is, for instance, one solid mass of cars half a mile long?”
“Yes,” said Brian. “Then what do we do?”
Donovan said, “We either have to drag them out of the way, or shove them off the road. If we can’t get by on the mall or shoulder. We’ll want to travel on superhighways, away from the cities, as far as possible.”
Madane said, “It’s better than staying here and winding up in a siege.”
There was a knock at the door and one of the men from a lab downstairs, his face cut and bleeding, was in the doorway with half a dozen others setting down cartons outside.
“I thought you’d want to know, Chief. They’re getting into an ugly mood out there. The idea got around that the electric company is behind all this. It seems they put in an atomic reactor, and it shorted out all the electricity somehow. Everybody went to his car, because the reactor was going to be fixed, and then the cars would start. When it didn’t happen, the frustration was too much for some of those guys. They’re out there smashing windows and threatening to beat in the brains of anybody in reach. Meanwhile, there’s a kind of migration going on—people trying to get home on foot in different directions. Naturally, after they get shoved around a few times by these sore-heads, they’re in no mood to be even so much as sneezed at the next time. You can still get through out there, but you’ve got to keep your eyes open.”
“There’s another thing to think of,” Cardan said. “Did you ever read that story about the lady and the tiger?” “What do you mean, Chief?”
“A man is taken prisoner and put in an arena that has two doors. If he opens one door, a beautiful woman will be waiting inside. If he opens the other, a hungry tiger will rip him to shreds. He doesn’t know which door has the tiger behind it, but he’s got to open one of the doors.”
“How does that apply to us?”
“For all we know,” said Cardan, “the electricity may come back on again.”
“In which case,” said Maclane, “if we’ve done anything really effective to take care of ourselves—”
Donovan finished it for him. “We’ll appear to be selfish criminals.”
Cardan said, “How are we going to get these diesel trucks? If the phones worked, we could try making arrangements that way. But they don’t work. To find someone who can sell them to us is going to take time.”
“Sure,” said Maclane, “and if we pussyfoot around trying to do everything strictly according to the rules, we’ll never get done. And if the current doesn’t come back on, we’ll get swallowed up in the chaos that follows. That isn’t going to help anybody.”
“And aren’t we pretty damn certain the current isn’t coming back on?” Cardan inquired.
“It certainly looks that way to me,” Carl said.
“Okay,” Cardan said, “here’s what we do. On the other end of this block there’s a parking lot that belongs to a large trucking company. They use quite a few diesels. If we knock out the fences between here and there, we can bring those diesels in here without going into the street. First, we must get something that will supply the power to start the engines. Second, we have got to do everything possible to make this legal, and to give the trucking company a fair deal. Third, we’ve got to be sure we keep a good grip on this building till we’ve got the trucks equipped, loaded and ready to leave. Fourth, then we can start out, taking a route that will let us pick up the families of our own people. That means they’re going to have to be notified in advance, and told where to be when we pick them up. Don, ask Miss Bowen if there isn’t a map of the city in the files.”
Donovan was back in a few minutes, the two men spread the map on the desk, and Cardan said, “Railroad Avenue is wide, and there’s not too much traffic on it. Fourteenth Street runs out here through the southwest part of town. Suppose we have our people from that part of town at the intersection of Fourteenth and Railroad Ave?” The two men discussed details.
“Are you prepared to risk your necks again this afternoon?” Cardan asked.
“Yes,” said Brian.
“Sure,” said Carl.
“We’ll have Miss Bowen make a list of the addresses of the families that live in the southwest part of town. While she’s doing that, we’ll canvass the men to make sure they go along with the idea, You go out and tell the people to be at the intersection'-of''Fourteenth and Railroad Avenue at three in the morning.”
“Three in the morning,” Brian repeated.
“Right,” said Cardan, getting up. “By that time we should be ready, and I hope the mobs will have worn themselves out and be sleeping it off. Now Miss Bowen will get you that list.”
Half an hour later, Brian and Carl found themselves on bicycles, riding through a part of town that had been filled with people earlier, but was deserted now. The windows of the cars in the streets were smashed, and a man was lying against the base of a fence, either dead or unconscious. Carl and Brian were both quiet, thinking of the bicycle shop, where they’d found the windows smashed, the bicycles gone, and the owner on a cot in a back room, blood seeping from under a bandage on his head, a .32 revolver in his hand as he lay facing the door.
“Ah,” he’d murmured, smiling faintly as Carl came in. “For you, I have a bicycle.” He felt in his pockets and pulled out a key. “Here, open up that closet. They cleaned me out, but already I had put away those bikes.” He’d explained to the dumfounded Carl how the mob had burst in, shoving and fighting, and flattened him when he’d tried to stop them. But, having thought there might be a heavy demand for bicycles, new or used, when people realized there was no other reasonably quick way to get around, he had already put the battered bicycles Carl and Brian had rented out of sight.
“Big civilized men we are,” he’d said sarcastically. “The first time the juice goes off, we have a riot. You give us a week like this and we’ll be eating rats and mice and smashing each other’s heads in for a can of soup.”
; “Listen,” said Carl, “are you hurt bad?”
“I’ll be all right. It’s just a smack on the head. But it makes me mad. This civilization we got is like a set of stilts. We think we’re high up, big men, but it’s only the stilts, not us. As soon as one of them catches in a hole, over we go, and when we get up, we’re just little men. It’s only the stilts that were big . . .”
They had left the old man, still grumbling his disappointment in people, and pedaled briskly toward Anne’s father’s place, but when they got there he was nowhere to be seen. They called, but the house was empty. Brian finally turned to go, then suggested leaving a note.
“Wait,” said Carl, as they stood in the kitchen, where the only sound was the tick of a kitchen clock. “Listen, I thought I heard somebody moving downstairs.”
Brian opened the cellar door, looked down into the darkness, and felt a chill premonition.
He called. “Mr. Cermak?”
Behind him, there was the soft scuff of Carl’s foot on the kitchen floor.
The back of Brian’s head seemed to explode in a burst of lights.
Chapter 5
Brian came to to find Anne’s father bathing his face with a cold wet towel. As the older man’s tough, work-worn face showed concern, Brian sat up dizzily and felt the large tender bump at the back of his head. He had a violent headache, but it seemed to be something he could get over. Then he thought of the time and glanced at his watch. The crystal and face of the watch were smashed.
Steve Cermak noticed Brian’s gesture and turned to the kitchen clock on the shelf near the stove. “Twenty-five after two,” he said. “What happened?”
Brian told him. Cermak shook is head sorrowfully. “I was out for groceries. I thought of going into town after
Anne, but on foot it’s a long walk, and I was afraid I'd go in one way while she came out another way. Then she’d be worried and go looking for me. I went upstairs and stretched out for a nap; I woke up a few moments ago, certain I had heard a moan. That’s when I came down and found you.”
“Yeah, thanks to good old Carl.” Brian was reminded that because of his colleague’s double-cross, he was now pressed for time. “Listen, I’ll have to go ahead on the bicycle and get them to send a truck for you.” Brian got to his feet, wincing at the furious headache, and went out to get the bicycle he’d" left leaned against the porch steps. Anne’s father followed, picking up an oil lantern from the kitchen table.
The bicycle wasn’t by the porch steps.
They descended the steps, the lantern casting long swinging shadows on the frost that whitened the lawn and crunched stiffly underfoot. They looked briefly under the porch and behind a nearby hedge, then Cermak said, “While we look, time passes.”
“Yes,” said Brian, “we’ll have to make it on foot.”
Cermak went inside and came out carrying two jackets. He tossed one to Brian. “We’re about the same size.”
“Thanks.”
Cermak blew out the lantern and shut the door. They slid down a low bank in front of the house and walked along the road.
Brian said, “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us—and not too much time to do it in. I’m afraid we’ll have to run—”
“Young man, don’t you worry about me. If you think we need to run, let’s run.”
They alternated running and walking down the road, their frosty breath drifting slowly up in the cold air that chilled their faces and made Brian’s throat feel raw. Every step he took made his head throb, and the muscles of his thighs, because of the race with Carl, rebelled against further activity. It occurred to Brian that the idea of the race might not have been a spontaneous one. Perhaps Carl had already been planning to leave Brian behind, to be swallowed up in the collapse of civilization, while he, Carl, got away to make a fresh start with Anne. Brian remembered Carl saying, “I always get what I want. By hook or by crook, I win.”
They rounded a bend in the road. The smell of smoke was suddenly strong in Brian’s nostrils. There was the pressure of a hand at his arm.
“Wait,” said Anne’s father. “What’s this?”
Ahead of them was a downhill slope, at the bottom of which were two burning houses, facing each other across the road. A little knot of people was struggling in the road, and to the right, a lone woman was sobbing by a pile of furniture near the curb, where an old car was parked.
It seemed clear to Brian that here was the miserable end of somebody’s hopes, but all he felt was exasperation at the thought that their way might be blocked.
“Maybe we can run past them when we get close.”
“Okay.”
They walked downhill, and when they came near the little knot of struggling people, Brian and Cermak started to race past, well to one side.
As they came abreast, a girl’s voice cried, “Help I Oh, help!”
Brian had a brief glimpse of a girl’s face in the glare of the fire, her eyes wide with terror. Then she was slammed back against the car, and the only sound was the roar and crackle of the flames. One of the men rocked the girl’s head to one side with an open-handed slap. The other grabbed the cloth of her jacket.
Cermak and Brian whirled at the same time. Cermak shot his right arm around the neck of the nearer of the two men, yanked him back, getting his left arm around the man’s waist. There was a brief pinwheeling motion against the glare of the fire, and the second man’s hand shot forward, a glint of steel sparkling momentarily.
Brian slammed the knife-hand aside, pivoted on his heel, and smashed his antagonist on the point of the chin. There was a grunt as the man’s head snapped back and he slammed against the fender of the car, off balance, near Cermak. Cermak promptly sank a terrific left-handed blow in the knife-man’s midsection, and the fight was all over.
The dark-haired girl, still wide-eyed, trembled with relief. Brian said, “Do you live here?”
“No. I was just passing through.”
“Which way are you going?”
She pointed down the road toward the city.
“Then you’d better stick with us, if you can.” Brian picked up the knife and handed it to her. “Keep this. You may need it. You close it like this, and press this stud to open it.”
“I don’t know how to thank—”
“Don’t. Let’s get out of here. We’re in a hurry.” Brian spoke more sharply than he’d intended. He wanted to help the girl, but the momentary delay could already have made them late at the rendezvous. A few minutes’ polite talk could cost them a two-thousand-mile hike.
A few moments later Brian and the older man were going down the road, alternately running and walking, the girl coming along behind them, when abruptly Cermak stopped.
“Oh-oh,” he murmured. “Wait.”
Brian stopped. Ahead of them, from a peculiarly dark place where a row of tall hemlocks cast their shadows across the moonlit road, came a grunting, struggling noise, and Brian could make out the dim outlines of a group of men, some moving around among the trees, others standing around watching two of them fight.
Cermak murmured, “Better go around this,” and they made their way off to the side, guiding the girl by the arm, around to the rear of the houses. Then they were back on the road again, but now a cloud covered the moon, making their progress slower. Here the girl thanked them profusely and disappeared up an intersecting road.
Brian and Cermak were now in a more settled part of town. Encounters with people became more frequent; the roads were more often blocked with cars, and once Brian took a bad fall from a child’s roller skate lying on the sidewalk in the dark. When they finally reached the corner of Fourteenth Street and Railroad Avenue, the trucks were gone.
By then, the sky over the city was lit with a red glow. Off to the east, it was just starting tb get light.
Anne’s father, studying a layer of thin mud at the corner where a large puddle had partly dried up, said, “They’ve been here, Brian. Even in this light, you can see the marks of big truck tires.”<
br />
Brian looked around, thinking that Cardan might have left some sign for anyone who reached the spot late. Then he saw the paper tacked to the telephone pole. In the poor light, it took Brian a moment to read it:
Supplies
at R. E.
Anne’s father said, “Could we catch up to them at another place in town?”
“I’m afraid not. We’ll have to get some supplies, and hope they’re held up on the road.”
They started out through the city, detouring large groups of people and narrow places, but having to scare off occasional individuals and small groups which made menacing gestures, took a closer look, and generally moved on quickly. By now, their clothes had been torn and dirtied in a number of scuffles. Anne’s father had picked up a short length of black-painted pipe after one of those fights, and he carried it jutting forward so that in the poor light it looked like the end of a sawed-off shotgun. Brian, after falling over the child’s roller skate, had gotten up only to have a bat turn under his foot. This was small, but solid, and Brian had taken it along with him. Brian didn’t know how he looked himself, but the dirtied face of Anne’s father, lit by the red glow and with eyes in shadow, was not one to encourage troublemakers.
They were crossing the bridge over the river when Brian suddenly thought how calmly Cermak was taking it all. “I thought all this would be a terrible blow to you.”
“So did I. Why, did Anne say something to you?”
“She said you foresaw it.”
Cermak was quiet a moment, studying a car stalled just ahead. He shifted his length of pipe to cover it, and Brian dropped back a little, as if to give a clear field of fire.
Nothing moved in the car as they went past, but afterwards Brian thought he heard a very faint creak of the springs. They both stiffened and turned. After a time they moved in closer. The car was deserted.
Cermak grunted.'-- “What a stupid business this is. You get to suspect your own shadow.” He clucked disapprovingly. “And people going around robbing others. For what? What does money mean now?” He glanced ahead, where all was clear to the bridge.
The Day the Machines Stopped Page 5
