Footfall

The Navy had come twice before, first for the CBs, then for Roger Brooks. Both times they had come in force — but not like this. You could hardly hear the wind for the roar of motors, and they were only just pulling up! Armored trucks lined the road. It must be a nuisance for them, John Fox thought. All that gasoline. But they know we’ve got guns, and somebody might do something stupid if there was just a truckful of them. He counted eight trucks, and more vehicles behind them. New cars, old cars, decrepit civilian trucks, a score of them thinning out of sight into the rain.

Four men climbed out of the third vehicle and came up to the gate. They looked nervous. One was the sheriff, old Ben Lafferty. Three were Navy, and Fox had seen one of them on their second visit: Commander Arnold Kennedy. Kennedy stepped forward an said, “You know we’re coming in. We’ve been through this before. John Fox’s worries were growing. Nobody had come out the house to join him; what did that mean? Were they getting ready to shoot it out?

Two more came up. Miranda Shakes, and that deputy sheriff she dated.

“It’s all right, John,” Miranda said.

“What is it this time? Who the hell are they?” Fox waved back down the road.

“Your neighbors,” Sheriff Lafferty said.

“Civilians seeking refuge,” Commander Kennedy said, “and you will by God give it to them. We’re prepared to shoot the top off your house. What we want is the use of your bomb shelter for about two hours.”

Fox nodded. Orion, he thought. Now. “How many are there?”

“About three hundred.”

“You’re crazy. Even elbow to elbow—”

“And on top of each other too. This is serious. You tell the rest of ’em in there, this is serious. If they start shooting we’ll take the house off the top of the shelter. It’ll go anyway. Now, you and I are going up to the house.”

They walked around the greenhouse and up to the front door. Kennedy rang the bell.

The invaders trooped through the house and through the “secret” door and down.

There were storekeepers and Navy and Indians, grandparents and children and infants. Two old men and a heavy middle-aged woman had to be lifted from wheelchairs, carried inside, and deposited in the three decks of bunks. The wheelchairs stayed in the living room, along with everything else, suitcases, briefcases, picnic baskets, even heavy overcoats. The living room looked like a rummage sale. The rug was a swamp. Clara was too angry to scream, but Bill Shakes raged.

“We’ll have to tear up the floor to get rid of all they’ve trucked in! We’ve got one — count ’em, one — bathroom down there, and we’ll have to pack people in that too. We’ll have to fumigate — Commander, who’s going to pay for all this? What are you laughing at?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shakes. You submit a bill for damages. I guarantee you it’ll be honored, but you’d better wait an hour before you add up that bill, Mr. Shakes!”

George Tate-Evans felt his insides turning to water. What were we supposed to do, conduct a point defense against the Navy? We’ve got enough firepower here to get us all killed dead, and not even Jack lost his head quite that bad. Thank God. But they … none of them thought it through … The Navy searched us whe they came for the CBs, so they knew we had a bomb shelter. Half of Bellingham is trooping through our basement because we’ve got a bomb shelter, a bomb shelter! “Commander, what happens in one hour?”

“That’s still classified.”

“Are you out of your—”

“You had a fuck of a lot of radio equipment, and I’m not sure in my heart that we got it all, and the sheriff used his car radio to try to alert the populace! You almost died then, Mr… Tate Evans. I’ll tell you when I can. Really.”

“But what do we prepare for? How long will we be in there?”

“Hours, not days. Without us it would have been days,” Kennedy said. “We’ve got decontamination equipment parked outside ready.”

“Decontam—”

Up the stairs came a riot of noise. People were jammed in the stairwell, all the way to the thick iron trapdoor. “Something I think we’d better do,” Isadore said. “Pass out all the booze. I mean it Bill. You heard the commander, the Navy’ll pay for it. But that’s a supercooled riot in there, and something awful’s about to happen and we’ll want them tranquil.”

“Right. Medicine too,” George said. The living room held only Navy men and the legitimate owners. “Commander, get your men to carrying booze. I’ll get the medical kit. We’ll set up on the stairs. Force the rest of those carpetbaggers down to leave the stairs clear. And then I’ll offer you a drink.”

“Not for—” The Commander checked his watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes. And then I’m prepared to drink a toast.”

There were no windows on Michael. The control room was buried deep in Michael’s heart, between the water tanks, with the tower to shield it too. For Harry and the others there was nothing by TV screens.

Somewhere outside, there were still people to talk to Gillespie. “Nothing from the President. If anything comes, it’ll be a messenger. We’ve got a tight phone to the gate.”