silencing the author when the articles and book were in print would have been a somewhat futile gesture, particularly when
Chase looked back on those months in the Scottish croft, just the two of them, father and son leading a life that was basic, simple, and wholly satisfying, with a painful nostalgia that brought a stab to the heart. He would never again feel so close to Dan, nor be so absorbed in a piece of work to which he was totally committed and believed in absolutely.
It was a murky yellowy dusk by the time they reached the outskirts of Orlando. Atmospherics down here produced sometimes weird, sometimes beautiful, effects.
After the experience in Miami, Chase wasn't keen to spend the night in a deserted city. It might not turn out to be as deserted as all that--there could be a settlement there, and friendly or hostile it was impossible to know.
So at the National Guard checkpoint where the turnpike intersected the Bee Line Expressway he asked a young guardsman if he could recommend a secure overnight place to stay. The guardsman was dressed like a worker in an atomic reactor--enclosed from head to foot in a black protective cocoon and linked by umbilical airline to the concrete cube of the guardhouse. Through the transparent faceplate they could see he wore a white helmet and had a throat mike taped just below his thyroid cartilage.
He was friendly and helpful. 'Take the next exit onto highway twenty-seven. About fifteen miles west of here you'll come to a transit camp for immigrants heading north. I guess you could stay there. Follow the signs to Disney World and you can't miss it.'
Dan's face lit up. 'Is it near Disney World?' he asked, nose pressed against the cab window.
The guardsman gave a wry grin through the faceplate. 'Hell, son, it
'What is this, a survey for Earth Foundation?' he asked with interest.
It would take too long to explain, so Chase merely nodded. 'That's right.'
'I saw the guy who wrote that
'I know,' Chase said. 'But we appreciate your support all the
same.'
The guardsman waved them off. 'Keep up the good work,' he called out as they pulled away.
'Another convert,' Cheryl said and glanced impishly across the cab. 'You should have asked him for a donation, famous TV ecologist.'
'So famous he didn't even recognize me.'
'Maybe you didn't have this then.' Cheryl leaned across and tugged at his beard. 'I bet you grew it so you wouldn't be recognized by your fans,' she taunted him. 'My wonderful self-effacing hero.'
Chase laughed, grateful that he had someone who could unfailingly prick the bubble of his own pomposity. It was a trait he'd never admired in himself, yet couldn't shake. Cheryl was the perfect antidote. Cynical and yet tolerant, she possessed an incisive mind coupled with plain common sense. Six years together hadn't dulled the edge of their relationship, and he prayed it would endure come what may.
It was sad to see what had befallen Disney World.
The pronged dome of Space Mountain (he'd ridden that alone, when Angie had chickened out) housed the reception center, and the other buildings on the sprawling site had been converted into dining halls, dormitories, and general living quarters. Remembering what it had been like when the huge entertainment complex catered to thousands of visitors every single day and seeing it now, pressed into such cheerless, austere service, depressed him intensely.
The International Hotel, connected by monorail to the Magic Kingdom, billeted a division of the National Guard. In past days the monorail had transported millions of visitors to and from the parking lots, and it was still in working order. The EPCOT Center nearby, 'city of the future,' was now the National Guard headquarters for southern Florida.
The air-conditioning plant had been adapted to make each building a sealed enclosure, filtering the outside air and supplying an enriched oxygen mixture up to the required 20 percent by volume.
'You must have been about nine or ten when they shut it down,' Chase told Dan. 'That's about the perfect age to experience something like this. I'm sorry now I didn't bring you. The Haunted Mansion, Starflight to Saturn, Pirates of the Caribbean, Space Mountain, the Rocky Mountain Railroad.'
'I used to go to the one in Los Angeles/' Cheryl said. 'The sky over Disneyland always looked different from everywhere else, a kind of deeper blue. The sun was always shining. When I was a kid it was a make-believe world at the other end of the rainbow.'
'Knowing what I've missed makes me feel a lot better,' Dan said lugubriously. 'I always thought I'd been born twenty years too late.'
Confronted by the bleakly functional reality, these golden memories seemed to mock them, figments of a lost age. The picture-book colors on the towers and turrets had faded, the once sparkling gilt on the carrousels peeling and dull. There was now a tragic sadness about the place, like a ghost town still echoing dimly with long-ago music and fireworks and children's laughter.
They lined up at the steel counter in one of the crowded dining rooms, which Chase recognized as having housed the circular cinema-- a 360-degree screen enclosing the audience. Torn strips hung from the metal framework. Many of the people, he noted, looked haggard and pale. There were the unmistakable signs of cardiovascular and respiratory illness. The survival of the fittest wasn't just a textbook phrase anymore.
He looked at Dan, mopping up gravy with a piece of bread. Thank God he was healthy. His skin was tanned and his hair black and glossy. Skin and hair usually showed the symptoms of anoxia first, when the body's tissues were receiving an insufficient supply of oxygen.
'How long are we staying?' Dan wanted to know.
'Overnight, that's all,' Cheryl said. 'Tomorrow we'll start the drive up into Georgia, to a place called Griffin, south of Atlanta.'
'Is it breathable up there?'
'Oh, sure,' Cheryl smiled. 'It's outside the Official Devastated Area. There's an Earth Foundation group in Griffin, so we can leave the half-track and carry on to Washington by train.'
'We'll probably stay a couple of days in Griffin,' Chase said. 'They've started a small community farm and they want to get as many foundation volunteers as possible.'
Dan made a face. 'I suppose that means speeches and handshaking again.'
Chase nodded and Dan rolled his eyes. Like most offspring of well-known public figures he saw the ordinary man with feet of clay--not, as in this case, a leader in the ecology movement worldwide. He still couldn't accept his father in the role of symbolic crusader. To tell the truth, Chase couldn't accept it either.
As they chatted, Chase was aware of being watched from a nearby table. This was always happening nowadays--beard or no beard. So when the man called out, he was prepared for it.
'I got you right--that fella Chase, ain't it?'
Several heads turned as Chase nodded. He looked across at Cheryl, their eyes exchanged a coded message. She knew how much he hated being recognized, but he was stuck with it.
The man raised his voice. 'I seen you on TV and read that book you wrote.' He had a broad red face, in fiery contrast to his white hair cut so close that the pinkness of his scalp showed through. Next to him sat a frail hollow- cheeked woman of about fifty with lank mousy hair trailing to thin shoulders.
'Want to know something?' The man leaned forward, hairy forearms flat on the table, face thrust out like a challenge. 'I'll tell you what I think, fella. I think what you wrote was a load of bullshit. Bull. Shit. You dreamed up the whole goddam thing--every last word.'
'Harry, please.' The woman spoke down to the table. 'Leave the man alone. So it ain't true, so what?'
Her plaintive whine seemed to incense her husband. He blurted out, 'All that crap about the United States
