Part 8 (1/2)

”From time to time, G.o.d willing, I will use these facilities to bring you further information, as it is received, and to issue further decrees as they become necessary. I call upon you to obey the orders of your local Civil Defense directors, state and munic.i.p.al authorities, and of the military. Do not panic. ”Some of you may have guessed how it happens that I, the head of the most junior of government departments and a woman, have been forced to a.s.sume the duties and responsibilities of Chief Executive on this, the most terrible day in our history.

”One of the first targets of the enemy was Was.h.i.+ngton. ”So far as we have been able to discover at this hour, neither the President nor the Vice President, nor any other Cabinet member, nor the leaders of House or Senate survived. It appears certain that only a small percentage of the members of the Congress escaped. I survive only by chance, because this morning I was in another city, on an inspection tour. I am now in a military command post of relative safety. I have designated this command post Civil Defense Headquarters, as well as temporary seat of government.”

Mrs. Vanbruuker-Brown coughed and choked, recovered herself and continued: ”With a sick heart, but the resolution to lead the nation to victory and peace, I leave you for the time being.”

The radio hummed for a second, the carrier wave cut off, and then there was silence.

Randy said, ”It's about what I expected, but it's awful to hear it.”

”Still,” Helen said, ”there is a government.”

”I guess that's some comfort. I wonder what's left. I mean, what cities are left.”

Helen looked up at Randy. She looked at him, and through him, and far away. Her hands came together on the table, and her fingers intertwined; when she spoke it was in a soft, almost inaudible voice, as if her thoughts were so fragile that they would be shattered by more than a whisper. ”Do you think-is it possible-that the military command post she spoke of could be Offutt Field? Do you think she might be down in what we call the Hole, at SAC Headquarters? If she is at SAC, you know what that means, don't you?”

”It could mean that Mark is okay. But Helen-” ”Yes?

Randy didn't think it likely that Mrs. Vanbruuker-Brown was speaking from Omaha. The odds were against it. There were many headquarters, and the first one the enemy would try to destroy, after Was.h.i.+ngton itself, was SAC. Mark had feared this, and so did he. He said, ”I don't think we should count on it.” ”I'm not counting on it. I'm just praying. If Mark is alive how long do you think it'll be before we hear from him?”

”I can't even guess. But I do know who can make an educated guess. Admiral Hazzard. He lives on the other side of the Henrys' place. He listens to short wave and keeps up with every thing that goes on. He served a tour in ONI, and later was on the Intelligence staff of the Joint Chiefs-I think that was his last duty before they retired him. So if anybody around here should know what's happening then old Sam Hazzard should know.”

”Can we see him?”

”Of course we can see him. Any time we want. It's only a quarter mile. But we can't leave Peyton alone and I don't have any idea what time Dan Gunn will get here.” His arms felt wooden, and detached, and his head too heavy for his neck. His chin dropped on his chest. ”And I'm so blasted tired, Helen. I feel that if I don't get a couple of hours of real sleep I'll go off my rocker. If I don't get some rest I won't be much good from here in, and G.o.d knows what'll happen tonight.”

Helen said, ”I'm sorry, Randy. Of course you're groggy. Go on up stairs and get some sleep. I'm going to drive to town. There's so much stuff we've just got to have.”

”Suppose Peyton calls? I'll never wake up.”

”Ben Franklin will be here. I'll tell him to wake you up if anything serious happens.”

”Okay. Be careful. Don't stop for anybody on the way to town.” Randy went upstairs, each step an effort. It was true, he thought, that women had more stamina than men.

Randy decided not actually to take off his clothes and get into bed because once he got under the covers he would never get up. Instead, he took off his shoes and dropped down on the couch in the living room. He stared at the gunrack on the opposite wall. Until very recent years guns had been an important part of living on the Timucuan. Randy guessed they might become important again. He had quite an a.r.s.enal. There was the long, old-fas.h.i.+oned 30-40 Krag fitted with sporting sights; the carbine he had carried in Korea, dismantled, and smuggled home; two .22 rifles, one equipped with a scope; a twelve-gauge automatic, and a light, beautifully balanced. twenty-gauge double-barreled shotgun. In the drawer of his bedside table was a .45 automatic and a .22 target pistol hung in a holster in his closet.

Ammo. He had more than he would ever need for the big rifle, the carbine, and the shotguns. But he had only a couple of boxes of .22's, and he guessed that the .22's might be the most useful weapons he owned, if economic chaos lasted for a long time, a meat shortage developed, and it became necessary to hunt small game. He rose and went into the hallway and shouted down at the stairwell, ”Helen!”

”Yes?” She was at the front door.

”If you get a chance drop in at Beck's Hardware and buy some twenty-two caliber long-rifle hollow points.”

”Just a second. I'll write it down on my list. Twenty-two long-rifle hollow points. How many?”

”Ten boxes, if they have them.”

Helen said, ”I'll try. Now, Randy, get some sleep.”

Back on the couch, he closed his eyes, thinking of guns, and hunting. In his father's youth, this section of Florida had been a hunter's paradise, with quail, dove, duck, and deer in plenty, and even black bear and a rare panther. Now the quail were scattered and often scarce. Three coveys roamed the grove, and the hammock behind the Henrys' place. Randy had not shot quail for twelve years. When visitors noticed his gunrack and asked about quail shooting, he always laughed and said, ”Those guns are to shoot people who try to shoot my quail.” The quail were more than pets. They were friends, and wonderful to watch, parading across lawn and road in the early morning.

Only the ducks were now truly plentiful in this area, and they were protected by Federal law. Once in a while he shot a rattlesnake in the grove, or a moccasin near the dock. And that was all he shot. Still, there were rabbits and squirrels, and so the .22 ammo might come in handy. A long time ago-he could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen-he remembered hunting deer with his father, and shooting his first deer with buckshot from the double-twenty. His first, and his last, for the deer had not died instantly, and had seemed small and piteous, twitching in the palmetto scrub, until his father had dispatched it with his pistol. He could still see it, and the round, bright red spots on the green fronds. He s.h.i.+vered, and he slept.

Randy awoke in darkness. Graf was barking, and he heard voices downstairs. He turned on a light. It was nine-thirty. He had slept almost four hours. He felt refreshed, and good for whatever might come through the night. He was putting on his shoes when the door opened and Helen came into his apartment, followed by Ben Franklin and Dan Gunn.

”I was just going to wake you up,” Helen said. ”Dan is going in to look at Peyton.”

Dan's eyes were hollowed, and his face carved with fissures of exhaustion. Randy said, ”Have you eaten anything today, Dan>”

”I don't know. I don't think so.”

Helen said, ”You'll eat, Doctor, right after you've seen Peyton. Do you want me to go in with you?”

”You and Randy can both come in with me. But don't say anything. Let me do the talking.”

They went into the child's room. Randy flicked on the overhead light. ”Not that one,” Dan said. ”I want a dim light at first.” He turned on a lamp on the dressing table.

Peyton's hands crept out from under the sheet and touched the bandages over her eyes. ”h.e.l.lo,” she said, her voice small and frightened.

”h.e.l.lo, dear,” Helen said. ”Doctor Gunn is here to see you. You remember Doctor Gunn from last year, don't you?”

”Oh, yes. h.e.l.lo, Doctor.”

Dan said, ”Peyton, I'm going to take the bandage off your eyes. Don't be surprised if you don't see anything. There isn't much light in the room.”

Randy found he was holding his breath. Dan removed the bandage, saying, ”Now, don't rub your eyes.”

Peyton tried to open her eyes. She said, ”They're stuck. They feel all gooey.”

”Sure,” Dan said. He moistened cotton in a borax mixture and wiped Peyton's eyes gently. ”That better?”

Peyton blinked. ”Hey, I can see! Well, sort of. Everything looks milky.” Helen moved and Peyton said, ”Isn't that you, Mother?”

”Yes. That's me.”

”Your face looks like a balloon but I could tell it was you.” Dan smiled at Randy and nodded. She was going to be all right.

He rummaged in his bag and brought out a small kit, a bottle, and applicator, a tube. He said, ”Peyton, you can stop worrying now. You're not going to be blind. In perhaps a week, you'll be able to see fine. But until then you've got to rest your eyes and we've got to treat them. This is going to sting a little.”

He held her eyelids open and, his huge hands sure and gentle, applied drops, and an ointment. ”Butyn sulphate,” he said. ”This is really outside my line, but I remembered that butyn sulphate was what Air-Sea Rescue used for rescued fliers. After floating around in a raft for two or three days, the glare would blind them just as Peyton was blinded. It fixed them up, and it ought to fix her up.”

Dan turned to Helen. ”Did you see how I did it?” ”I was watching.”

”I'll try to get out here at least once a day, but if I don't make it, you'll have to do it yourself.”

”I won't have any trouble. Peyton's quite brave.”

Peyton said, ”Mommy, I'm not. I'm not brave at all. I'm scared all the time. Have you heard from Dad, yet? Do you think Dad's all right?”

”I'm sure he's all right, dear,” Helen said: ”But we can't expect to hear right away. All the phones are out, and I suppose the telegraph too.”

”I'm hungry, Mother.”