The Future War

taking on passengers.

'Ma'am,' he'd said, actually saluting.

She'd looked him over, not taking off her sunglasses, which seemed to increase his nervousness.

'Are you Susan Gaynor?'

'I am,' she said, using her real voice, an almost masculine foghorn growl. She found it enjoyable to intimidate people and he was a deliriously easy target.

'I have orders to assist your group in transporting civilians to the relocation camp in British Columbia,' he'd said. He took out a paper and presented it to her.

Her heart soared. She'd been thinking that it would take a hundred and fifty years to get even a fraction of these people to the disposal camps. Now she was being offered a convoy of fifteen buses and twenty trucks. Bliss! Dog Soldier was walking slowly toward them, hands in his pockets, to see what the situation was. She turned to him with an open and very genuine smile.

'Look!' she'd said, holding up the paper. 'The army has been recruited to help us move civilians to safety.'

His face had split in a grin. 'That's wonderful!'

Balewitch had turned back to the lieutenant. 'We were so worried. This seemed like such an impossible task.'

Dog offered his hand, which the soldier shook. 'Can't thank you enough, man. And thank God for those Canadians, eh?'

The lieutenant had smiled and nodded, then looked at a loss, and Balewitch realized that he was one of those people with rank, but little initiative. She grinned a little wider. Whoever 'Ron Labane' was, he was a genius at selecting personnel.

She took the young soldier by the arm and walked him toward the vehicles he'd brought. 'Why don't we put the women and children in the buses,' she suggested. 'And the men can ride in the trucks.'

'Good idea, ma'am. We'll do that as much as possible.' He walked off to organize it.

Balewitch turned to Dog Soldier. 'I love it!' she whispered.

'They'll arrive presorted. No nasty scenes when they're separated at the camp! We'll just have the women driven one way and the men the other. This is great!'

'It is that,' he agreed.

Balewitch and Dog had offered to drive the lead truck since

'they knew the route so well' and the lieutenant had happily agreed. The poor stooge was so agreeable that Balewitch foresaw them doing this dozens of times before he became even slightly suspicious. Life was good!

MISSOURI

'Goddammit, why can't I contact anyone?' Reese muttered.

It should have been getting warmer, but the weather had stayed like early spring; luckily, here in southeastern Missouri that was warm enough for things to grow. The fields around the country schoolhouse were coming up, green shoots pushing through the flat black soil—soybeans, mostly, with some corn. It would all be useful come fall, very useful indeed. The smell of it was com-forting as he paced through the parking lot, a yeasty scent of growth.

And that's about the only comfort I've got, he thought. The country's been wrecked, and I can't get anyone to talk to me!

Surely the chain of command can't be that completely broken!

He'd stayed at the high school trying to be of help and had succeeded in convincing some of the parents to give rides to his work crew who were local men. He and the sergeant had come in from different states, and so, unless they could come up with some form of transportation, they were stuck.

'I wonder when we'll start school again,' the principal had asked.

'That would be up to the local government,' Dennis told her.

'The main problem here is going to be transportation. Gas and oil are going to be like gold. At least for a while.'

She nodded and was silent for a time. 'I suppose there must be plans somewhere for this sort of event. In the fifties, I probably would have been able to put my hand right on it. But in the fifties, this school didn't even exist.' She shrugged. 'I'm at a loss.'

'Me, too,' Reese said with a rueful smile. 'I'm considering commandeering a bicycle and hying myself to the nearest military base.'

'Make that a bicycle built for two, sir,' his sergeant said.

Dennis grinned at him and slapped him on the shoulder.

'We're needed out there,' he said to the principal. 'I'm an engineer and the army can never have too many sergeants.'

'My husband used to say that.' Her smile was nostalgic. 'He was a major.'

Before she could say more, a man of about seventy walked in.

'Something's going on and I don't like it!' he snapped.

Dennis assumed the old man had come looking for him. Since he and his crew had shown up at the high school, he'd more or less become, in the eyes of the community at least, some sort of military authority.

'Jack Gruder,' the principal said in introduction.

'What is it, sir?' Reese asked politely. He assumed that the old man hadn't gone to the police because they were both understaffed and overworked during this emergency. Meaning it could literally take days for the police to get to your problem.

'Some army guys in a truck showed up at my son-in-law's place and took 'em away.' The old man stared at Reese indignantly.

'They did?' Dennis looked at the sergeant, who looked hopeful at the news. Maybe they'd be on their way today if they could get in touch with these guys. 'Did they say why?'

'I don't know why! I didn't get near enough to ask. I could see from the way they were behavin' that they weren't askin' my daughter to get on that truck.'

'What about your son-in-law?' the sergeant asked.

'Him, too,' Gruder snapped. 'That boy never did have any gumption.'

'His father was too strict with him,' the principal said.

'He has no backbone. Never did.'

The principal tightened her lips and said nothing. Dennis chalked her reaction up to long experience with opinionated parents.

'Do you have any idea where they might have gone next?' he asked Gruder.

'Well, how the hell would I know? I don't even know what they wanted with my daughter!'

'Well, what direction did they go in, and what would lie in that direction?'

The old man thought about it, looking at Reese suspiciously.

'I guess they were heading east, toward the Boucher place.'

'How about if you took me and the sergeant and we tried to catch up with them?' Reese suggested.

'I dunno. Haven't got that much gas left,' the old man grumbled.

'I thought you wanted to know what happened to your daughter,' Dennis said.

'Well, of course I want…' The old man glared at him, then took his keys out of his pocket. 'Okay, get your stuff,' he finally said.

Dennis indicated his rumpled uniform. 'This is my stuff.'

'Me, too,' the sergeant said.

'Then let's go,' Gruder told them, and stalked off.

'Thank you,' Dennis said to the principal.

'Good luck,' she said. 'Come see us again sometime.'

* * *

They'd been driving for about forty minutes and Gruder was muttering nonstop about his gas when they spotted the olive-green truck. Reese reached over and honked the horn, earning an indignant glare from the driver. But the truck ahead of them slowed down and pulled over; the back was crowded with civilians, many of them