167 Trouble At Home (2/2)
They fell silent when they reached Kirk's car: a big four-door Chevrolet sedan. It had been painted a matte green, and was at least thirty years old. It had bulletproof glass in the windows and light armor plating and had been too valuable to discard. The military liked hoarding plenty of old, useless vehicles, spending tons of money on keeping them serviceable. It had turned out to be a clever policy.
Kirk started the car up, and soon enough they were driving along the 101 through Sausalito. There was next to no other traffic, and the streets were empty of pedestrians. Everyone was conserving energy in all of its shapes and forms.
It was close to an hour's drive to the Lander mansion in Napa Valley. Kirk and Adam amused themselves by making a bet on the number of vehicles they'd encounter along the way. They both bet in the low hundreds; it turned to be wildly optimistic. They had encountered twenty seven by the time they reached Petaluma, more than halfway home. Most of the vehicles they saw were army trucks, although they also passed an ancient Harley-Davidson motorcycle. It was hauling a two-wheeled cart filled with hay.
”I hope it's not someone's dinner,” Adam commented, craning his head to follow the vehicle with his eyes.
”A lot of people have taken to riding horses,” Kirk said. ”I'm actually surprised we haven't seen any.”
”I'd take a short cut across the country if I had a horse,” said Adam. ”A horse is the ultimate cross-country vehicle.”
”That it is,” Kirk agreed.
”Maybe we should take a couple back to the office. Use them for shorter trips. I mean, I've burned up half the month's gas ration in less than a week.”
Kirk chuckled, and said:
”Don't worry, son. As the state governor, I'm entitled to issue extra gas rations when really necessary. Of course I can't go crazy with them, but I can get you a few extra refills.”
”Thanks, Dad. I should have opted for an old clunker, like you. It looks like it's very fuel-efficient.”
”Lighter armor, weaker engine, and no silly gadgets like guns or road spike strip launchers. But you had your heart set on driving a little tank.”
”Yeah,” Adam said gloomily. ”I thought that, traveling around without an escort... You know.”
”I don't, and I don't want to find out. That's for stupid assholes like the guys in Maryland and Pennsylvania.”
”You don't think we're going to have that kind of trouble here?”
”I don't think so,” Kirk said. ”California's an agricultural state. We've got enough food for everyone, even assuming this year's harvest will be a tenth of what it used to be. And very importantly, we've kept everyone's hopes intact. Hope is key, Adam. I know that because I used to be a politician. A politician is a trader in hope. Take away hope, and you instantly have a shitload of problems.”
”And everyone here's still hoping they'll build themselves a wonderful future in the New World.”
”Exactly,” said Kirk. ”If they're going to be disillusioned, let them get disillusioned at the rate of ten a day. Not a thousand every hour.”
”Smart.”
”I like to think so,” Kirk said.
Twenty minutes later, they finally turned into the driveway leading to the Lander mansion. Almost instantly, they saw something was seriously wrong.
A crowd of at least a hundred people of all colors and ages was gathered in front of the entrance to the house. Some were carrying placards on sticks, and all of them turned to look at the car approaching up the driveway.
”Oh shit,” Adam said.
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