We Who Survived. Sterling Noel
group, with the possible exception of Vic Savage and, of course, myself, has been faced with the responsibility of the lives of others in a fight for survival? If Dr. Harrow’s black picture of the future is correct, then we would encounter here in Fallon a grim fight indeed.
“Personally I would prefer high ground nearer the sea and close to a modern city where there would be available to us the manpower and the machines that would give us a more equal chance. It is my judgment that my mother and I should leave here and go to Richmond Complex. The California terrain of mountains adjacent to the sea is much more practicable for the conditions that Dr. Harrow foresees. I invite any or all of you to join my mother and myself.”
He sat down. There was heavy silence for a couple of minutes. Here was the first doubt cast upon the Fallon Plan and the first real challenge of Gabe’s judgment. I know that I had a momentary impulse to swing over to Steve’s side and announce that I would go West with him. I am certain that others felt the same way, to greater or lesser degrees. What’s more, he had confidence, and in the state all of us were in, then, confidence counted for a great deal.
Gabe said, “I would strongly advise against it, Steve. The winds, which will be generally from West to East, will generate wild velocities in their sweep across the Pacific and they will hit the West Coast with full force. I believe you would do much better on the Atlantic Coast if you can find high enough ground, or even on the Gulf of Mexico, flat as it is down there. Some fifty miles inland might be safe enough. You and your mother have my most sincere best wishes.”
Jack Osborne said, “I don’t know you, Mr. Engles, but I’ve heard Gabe speak of you and I know he has great respect for your abilities in the field of fusion and reactors. I want to add my own small warning about the West Coast. The snows will be deeper there and the wind velocities higher than in any other section of the continent. In addition, we expect the Pacific to freeze over first. Now this may take several years—or it may occur within a year. However, I do not believe that the Pacific will be a dependable highway South.”
Steve Engles said, “Well, in that case, my mother and I may revise our plans and go back East . . . I should like to remain for the rest of the meeting, if I may.”
“By all means,” said Gabe. He turned to me and said, “Vic, will you put a motion on the general question of acceptance of the Fallon Plan?”
I framed the motion, rather clumsily I thought, and all of us voted aye. Steve remained silent. Then at Gabe’s request I put a second motion on the question of whether we should follow Gabe’s proposal to seek to escape South by surface transportation when the time came. I realized, of course, as Gabe must have, that the proposal was at this junction a wildly optimistic notion and that first we must devise means of living through the violence immediately ahead. But anything optimistic was a sound idea on this Friday.
Both Bob Jordan and Bill Wernecke spoke on the problems of surface movement under the conditions we anticipated, then Gabe called in Rance Goodrich to explain the design of his machine, which had been dubbed a “snowmobile” after the custom of the Twentieth Century.
10
RANCE GOODRICH, ten years younger than I, was one of the most brilliant industrial designers of the Dynamics Radical and had achieved world-wide acclaim at 25 for his conception of automatic electronic control of the Plymouth Platforms. All of the current Platform installations were of his own creation, as well as the magnetic field modifiers that kept them in orbit.
“The main feature of this machine,” he said, “is the wheels, which are essentially oversized inflated rubber tires, much the same kind used for this purpose in the Arctic before the age of flight. It is obvious to all of us that any air-borne vehicle is more efficient for any transportation purpose than a surface vehicle, but I am assured by Dr. Harrow and others that flight will be impossible for many years because of the high winds.
“These wheels of ours, which we constructed at Dynamic, are my particular pride, for they are individually self-powered with Utley Progravity Gyros, deriving their basic energy from small fusion reactors within the hubs. They will turn under any possible conditions of terrain we may encounter. The rest of the vehicle is more or less standard, with a permanium and lomax alloy cabin large enough for twenty or so, and lomax alloy frame and fittings.
“It is my understanding that we will not assemble our vehicle until we are ready to use it, so you will not be able to examine this obsolete marvel at present. But I hope that, when you do finally see it, you will restrain your laughter. It may save our lives.”
Rance’s dessertation ended the discussion, and a vote was taken immediately on whether or not we would seek to use his machine. Again the ayes were unanimous, with the exception of Steve Engles. Gabe then called for adjournment until Saturday evening.
I returned to the living room just behind Steve. He asked Florence Donner, a striking green-eyed redhead who had been Elaine Harrow’s roommate at Oriental, if she had seen his mother.
“Cora’s up above,” said Florence. “She said she had a headache.”
He addressed Dr. Rufe Howard, who had been playing parch with Florence. “Do you mind coming up and having a look at her?” he said.
“Cora’s healthier than you are,” said Rufe. “All’s the matter with her is too much imagination.”
Steve clenched his fists and stood with his legs apart, glaring at Dr. Howard. “You don’t know a damn thing about my mother,” he said angrily.
Rufe looked up at him startled, then smiled. “I’ve known Cora longer than you have,” he said quietly. “She’s always had headaches—and heart palpitations—when situations were not to her liking. However, I’ll go up and see her if you insist.”
“Never mind!” said Steve, turning abruptly and heading for the stairway in the hall.
“Whew!” exclaimed Florence. “What a temper he’s got!”
“He won’t be with us, so we don’t have to worry about that,” I said.
“I don’t think we will miss them,” said Rufe Howard. “There’s a classic example of the Oedipus complex, modified—or probably multiplied—by the Gerber Therapy.”
“What do you suppose is going on?” asked Florence, pointing her thumb upward.
“Steve is comforting his mother,” said Rufe. “He is telling her how much he loves her and how he will protect her from the bad world.”
“I wish I could get a big man like him to tell me that,” said Florence.
“You can,” said Rufe. “Just raise a big son and give him the Gerber Series.”
11
AT 11:05 that night (Friday, September 20) a Garbut Transport settled softly at the jetshield at Harrow farm and we went out to help unload the snowmobile. Rance Goodrich assumed command of the operation, since it was “his” machine, and no one objected. The rest of us—Gabe, Jack Osborne, Bob Jordan, and the two Lawrences, Fred and Sam Houston, acted as the work gang under his direction. Libby Jordan, Florence and Marge were the kibitzers (a Bridge term which means one who comments on the play of the Bridge hands) and I was elated to see that these three had so quickly accepted each other and apparently were becoming friends.
We got the Garbut unloaded in less than half an hour, with the aid of Corning jacks and a Localus carrier which, fortunately, was part of the ample equipment of the Harrow farm. We stowed the boxed parts of the snowmobile in the East Barn, which was closest to the jetshield. We had to melt a path to the barn with a Corry converter, but that took only a few minutes.
“Bill Wernecke will start reinforcement of the East Barn roof in a few days,” Gabe told me. “I have all of the material he will need to reinforce the barn and the house. The West Barn is stacked to the rafters with lomax alloy beams and siding. Before the Chinese War I was going to build my own Ionoscope Tower and observation station.