'For God's sake, Don,' Dr. Joan Dreiser sighed. 'Let's keep it friendly. This isn't the Inquisition, and you're not, uh…'
'Torquemada,' Eric offered.
'Right. That's the son of a bitch. So put your silly little gavel down and let's get to business, I've still got rounds to make at the hospital.' She brushed her gray-black hair from her forehead and leaned back in her chair. Her white lab coat, hopelessly stained with old and new blood, torn here and there from wear, was hanging on a brass coatrack in the corner. Her left foot was up on an empty chair to relieve the swelling in her ankles. She was fifty- five but still put in eighteen-hour days, seven days a week.
Toni Tyler, slightly overweight from being dined by Sacramento lobbyists aware of her weakness for pasta, tapped her pencil on the table. 'Perhaps Eric can tell us exactly why he refuses this assignment?'
Dr. Epson shrugged, dropped his mallet loudly on the table, and sat down, giving the knot in his tie a little tug. 'Fine. Let's hear it then.'
Eric walked across the room, pulled out a chair and sat directly across from Epson. Their knees brushed, and Epson jerked backwards as if jolted with electricity. The close proximity made Epson squirm a bit, as Eric knew it would.
'Well, you want me to take a group of people out into the Dead Zone to meet with a group from another camp across town. What are they called?'
'El Dorado Center,' Trevor said. 'They staked out the stores at that shopping center on the corner of El Dorado and Hastings.'
'What kind of stores?'
'Let's see, they have an Angel's Hardware, Thrifty Drugs…'
'A pet store,' Dr. Dreiser added. 'Bought my cat there two years ago.'
Trevor counted them off on his fingers. 'They've got a grocery store there, a Lucky's or a Ralph's.'
'Ralph's,' Toni Tyler said. 'And a Kentucky Fried Chicken, some clothing stores, a place that rents video movies, an ice cream store, a Japanese restaurant.'
'Okay,' Eric held up his hand. 'That gives me an idea. They certainly have enough to make good their offer.'
'That's right,' Griff Durham said, staring at Eric. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a doughy face made comic by thick, bushy eyebrows and a pencil-thin moustache. He wore a red plaid hunting jacket and carried a Walther P-38 tucked in his waistband, the only working gun in camp. He was used to getting what he wanted and didn't take it well if he didn't. No matter how much the world around him changed, he never would. He looked at everybody as if sizing them up for a fist fight, which he'd had his share of too. 'We could use those generator parts they offered, son. Your last mission didn't do too well in that area.'
Eric turned to face Durham, his face placid, his voice calm. 'Not my mission, Griff. As I recall, it was some brilliant planning on this Council's part that was responsible for sending Matt Southern and his men out there. You sent them out without consulting me, while you knew I was busy reinforcing the perimeters near the library.'
'Mat Southern was an experienced police officer,' Dr. Epson said, 'with six years-'
'Matt Southern was a kid who'd never handled anything more dangerous than a drunken football player during Homecoming Week. And you sent him out with a bunch of guys even less experienced, into a war zone that even a hardened veteran would balk at. And then you wonder why none of them came back. What do you people use for common sense?'
'We need those generator parts, Ravensmith,' Durham said. 'We've got a fuel reserve, and we've got the basic motors. But without those parts we'll never get them working.'
'He's right, Eric,' Dr. Dreiser said. 'I could sure use some electricity at the hospital. We salvaged all kinds of equipment from the campus infirmary, but we can't use them. Not without those generators.'
'And we could set some lights up at night to guard the perimeter,' Dr. Epson said.
Eric leaned back in his chair, rocking it back on two legs. 'I know how important it is. But I know that there's a safer way to go about getting what we want. I told you that before and it still goes. The only difference now is that we've lost four men.'
'At least we tried,' Durham growled.
'Wrong. They tried. You sat on your asses while they got theirs blown away. Now you're asking me to do the same thing.'
'These are dangerous times, Eric,' Toni Tyler said in her reasonable politician's voice. 'We don't always have the luxury of optimum safety.'
Eric smiled. 'Especially when you don't have to go out yourself.'
'It doesn't matter what you think about us,' Dr. Epson said. 'As I pointed out earlier, we aren't asking you. We're telling you. We took a vote and we agreed three against two, with Trevor here and the good doctor dissenting. We want you to meet them, give them the farming and technical books they want in exchange for whatever generator parts we need.'
Eric stood up, turned his back, and marched toward the door. 'Forget it.'
'Where are you going?' Dr, Epson demanded, his voice squeaky with anger. 'Answer me!' He pounded the table with his mallet. 'Answer me or I'll have you and your family expelled from University Camp immediately.'
'For God's sake, Donald,' Trevor gasped.
'You will do no such thing,' Dr. Dreiser said, stamping her sore foot on the floor.
Even Griff Durham was shocked by such a threat. 'Shut up, Epson.'
'I will not! I'm Chairperson of the Council. Elected by the population of University Camp. Eric is this community's Security Chief, appointed by this council, and as such it is his duty-'
Eric grabbed his crossbow and spun around to face them. 'You people don't seem to understand the situation out there. We are a tiny fort in hostile territory surrounded by warring tribes. The only reason we survive is because those on the outside are at war with each other as well as with us. Councilperson, Security Chief.' He sneered. 'Those are bullshit terms from a polite way of life that doesn't exist anymore. You are a war council and I am your warlord. We are at war right this minute, with everyone outside this camp. And the sooner you accept that fact, the better our chance of surviving the week.'
'We aren't at war, Eric,' Toni Tyler said. 'We're conducting peaceful transactions with another group. Like two countries doing business together. We're simply trading goods. It's simple economics, don't make more of it than it is.'
'That's right, Ravensmith,' Durham nodded. 'We're just making do until we're all rescued.'
Eric was incredulous. 'Rescued?'
'Sure,' Dr. Dreiser said. 'How long could it be?'
Eric shook his head. 'You people still don't understand, do you? Trevor, where are the leaflets?'
Trevor Graumann opened his charred briefcase and pulled out a handful of yellow leaflets. He tossed them in front of him where they landed with a thud.
'Does that include last week's?'
Trevor nodded.
Eric walked back across the room and picked up the top leaflet. 'I'm going to assume you've all read these, though it's clear that you don't fully understand them. So I'm going to explain it slowly and bluntly. That way you can get a realistic view of our situation, and make decisions accordingly.
'First, forget about any help from the government. The most they can do right now is fly over, and I mean way over, and drop these goddamn bulletins once very two weeks.' He swept his hands across the pile, scattering them along the table. Some fluttered off the edge. 'Did you notice the careful drawings, the scientific explanations, the apologetic forecast? Boil it all down and it says one thing: Deep Shit. That's what we're in.' He held up one of the flyers with a printed map. 'See this map? This is what the United States looked like before the quakes. This was us. California. Now look at the map next to it. This is what the United States looks like now. But wait a minute. Where's California?' He stabbed the paper with his finger. The sound echoed like a shot in the quiet room. 'Here we are. Five miles to the west. What's all this space between us and them? Water. Cold, blue ocean.'
Durham bristled. 'We aren't children, Ravensmith. We understand all that. Part of the mainland broke off, from San Francisco to the Gulf of California. We've all seen the satellite photos and drawings they dropped. Scientists have been predicting the possibility for years. You don't see any of us sitting around crying over it, do you?'
