Farnham's Freehold (7 page)

“Well—No, sir.”

“So?”

“No exercise, least oxygen used, makes sense. But when it comes time to open the door, where are we?”

“We take our chances.”

“I mean,
can
we? Short on air, panting, thirsty, maybe sick—I’d like to be certain that anyone, Karen say, with a broken arm, can get that door open.”

“I see.”

“I’d like to try all three doors. I’d like to leave the armor door open. A girl can’t handle that crank. I volunteer to try the upper door.”

“Sorry, it’s my privilege. I go along with the rest. That’s why I asked for suggestions. I’m tired, Joe; my mind is fuzzy.”

“And if the doors are blocked? Probably rubble against the upper door—”

“We have the jack.”

“Well, if we can’t use the doors, we should make sure of the escape tunnel. Duke’s shoulder isn’t so good. My ribs are sore but I can work—today. Tomorrow Duke and I will be stiff and twice as sore. There are those steel bottles cluttering the hatch and plunder stored in the hole. Takes work. Boss, I say we’ve got to be sure of our escape—while we’re still in pretty good shape.”

“I hate to order heavy work. But you’ve convinced me.” Hugh stood up, suppressing a groan. “Let’s get busy.”

“I’ve got one more suggestion.”

“So?”

“You ought to sack in. You haven’t been to bed at all and you got banged up pretty hard.”

“I’m okay. Duke has a bad shoulder, you’ve got cracked ribs. And there’s heavy work to be done.”

“I plan to use block and tackle to skid those bottles aside. Barbara can help. She’s husky, for a girl.”

“Certainly I can,” agreed Barbara. “I’m bigger than Joe is. Excuse me, Joe.”

“No argument. Boss. Hugh. I don’t like to emphasize it but
I
thought of this. You admit you’re tired. Not surprising, you’ve been on the go twenty-four hours. Do you mind my saying that I would feel more confident you could get us through if you would rest?”

“He’s right, Hugh.”

“Barbara, you haven’t had any sleep.”

“I don’t have to make decisions. But I’ll lie down and Joe can call me when he needs me. Okay, Joe?”

“Fine, Barbara.”

Hugh grinned. “Ganging up on me. All right, I’ll take a nap.”

A few minutes later he was in the bottom bunk in the men’s dormitory, his feet braced against the footboard. He closed his eyes and was asleep before he could get his worries organized.

Duke and Joe found that five of the bolts of the inner door were stuck. “We’ll let them be,” Joe decided. “We can always drift them back with a sledgehammer. Let’s crank back the armor door.”

The armor door, beyond the bolted door, was intended to withstand as much blast as the walls. It was cranked into place, or out, by a rack and gear driven by a long crank.

Joe could not budge it. Duke, heavier by forty pounds, put his weight on it—no results. Then they leaned on it together.

“Frozen.”

“Yeah.”

“Joe, you mentioned a sledgehammer.”

The young Negro frowned. “Duke, I would rather your father tried that. We could break the crank. Or a tooth on the rack.”

“The trouble is, we’re trying to crank a ton or so of door uphill, when it was meant to move on the level.”

“Yes. But this door always has been pesky.”

“What do we do?”

“We get at the escape tunnel.”

A block and tackle was fastened to a hook in the ceiling; the giant bottles were hauled out of the jumble and stacked, with Barbara and Karen heaving on the line and the men guiding them and then bracing them so that the stack could not roll. When the middle of the floor was clear they were able to get at the manhole cover to the tunnel. It was the massive, heavy-traffic sort and the hook in the ceiling was for lifting it.

It came up, creaking. It swung suddenly because of the 30° out-of-plumb of everything, taking a nick out of Duke’s shin and an oath out of Duke.

The hole was packed with provisions. The girls dug them out, Karen, being smaller, going down inside as they got deeper and Barbara stacking the stuff.

Karen stuck her head up. “Hey! Water Boss! There’s canned water here.”

“Well, goody for me!”

Joe said, “I had forgotten that. This hatch hasn’t been opened since the shelter was stocked.”

“Joe, shall I knock out the braces?”

“I’ll get ’em. You clear out the supplies. Duke, this isn’t armored the way the door is. Those braces hold a piece of boiler plate against the opening, with the supplies behind it and the manhole cover holding it all down. Inside the tunnel, at ten foot intervals, are walls of sandbags, and the mouth has dirt over it. Your father said the idea was to cofferdam a blast. Let it in, slow it down, a piece at a time.”

“We’ll find those sandbags jammed against that boiler plate.”

“If so, we’ll dig ’em out.”

“Why didn’t he use real armor?”

“He thought this was safer. You saw what happened to the doors. I would hate to have to pry loose a steel barrier in that tunnel.”

“I see. Joe, I’m sorry I ever called this place a ‘hole in the ground.’”

“Well, it isn’t. It’s a machine—a survival machine.”

“I’m through,” Karen announced. “Some gentleman help me up. Or you, Duke.”

“I’ll put the lid on with you under it.” Duke helped his sister to climb out.

Joe climbed down, flinching at the strain on his ribs. Dr. Livingstone had been superintending. Now he followed his friend into the hole, using Joe’s shoulders as a landing.

“Duke, if you’ll hand me that sledge—Stay out of the way, Doc. Get your tail down.”

“Want me to take him?” asked Karen.

“No, he likes to be in on things. Somebody hold the light.” The braces were removed and piled on the floor above.

“Duke, I need the tackle now. I don’t want to hoist the plate. Just take its weight so I can swing it back. It’s heavy.”

“Here it comes.”

“That’s good.
Doc!
Darn you, Doc! Get out from under my feet! Just a steady strain, Duke. Somebody hand me the flashlight. I’ll swing her back and have a look.”

“And get a face full of isotopes.”

“Have to chance it. A touch more—That’s got her, she’s swinging free.”

Then Joe didn’t say anything. At last Duke said, “What do you see?”

“I’m not sure. Let me swing it back, and hand me one brace.”

“Right over your head. Joe, what do you see?”

The Negro was swinging the plate back when suddenly he grunted. “Doc! Doc, come back here! That little scamp! Between my legs and into the tunnel.
Doc!
”

“He can’t get far.”

“Well—Karen, will you go wake your father?”

“Damn it, Joe!
What do you see?
”

“Duke, I don’t know. That’s why I need Hugh.”

“I’m coming down.”

“There isn’t room. I’m coming up, so Hugh can go down.”

Hugh arrived as Joe scrambled out. “Joe, what do you have?”

“Hugh, I would rather you looked yourself.”

“Well—I should have built a ladder for this. Give me a hand.” Hugh went down, removed the brace, swung back the plate.

He stared even longer than Joe had, then called up. “Duke! Let’s heave this plate out.”

“What is it, Dad?”

“Get the plate out, then you can come down.” It was hoisted out; father and son exchanged places. Duke stared down the tunnel. “That’s enough, Duke. Here’s a hand.”

Duke rejoined them; his father said, “What do you think?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Daddy,” Karen said tensely, “somebody is going to talk, or I’m going to wrap this sledgehammer around somebody’s skull.”

“Yes, baby. Uh, there’s room for you girls to go down together.”

Barbara was handed down by Duke and Hugh, she helped Karen down over her. Both girls scrunched down and looked.

Karen said softly, “I’ll be goldarned!” She started crawling into the tunnel.

Hugh called out, “Baby! Come back!” Karen did not answer. He added, “Barbara, tell me what you see.”

“I see,” Barbara said slowly, “a beautiful wooded hillside, green trees, bushes, and a lovely sunny day.”

“That’s what we saw.”

“But it’s impossible.”

“Yes.”

“Karen is outside. The tunnel isn’t more than eight feet long. She’s holding Dr. Livingstone. She says, ‘Come on out!’”

“Tell her to get away from the mouth. It’s probably radioactive.”

“Karen! Get away from the tunnel! Hugh, what time is it?”

“Just past seven.”

“Well, it’s more like noon outside. I think.”

“I’ve quit thinking.”

“Hugh, I want to go out.”

“Uh—Oh, hell! Don’t tarry at the mouth. And be careful.”

“I will.” She started to crawl.

Hugh turned to his deputy. “Joe, I’m going out. Get me a forty-five and a belt. I shouldn’t have let those girls go out unarmed.” He eased himself down the hole. “You two guard the place.”

His son said, “Against what? There’s nothing to guard in here.”

His father hesitated. “I don’t know. Just a spooky feeling. All right, come along. But arm yourself. Joe!”

“Coming!”

“Joe, arm Duke and yourself. Then wait until we get outside. If we don’t come back right away, use your judgment. This situation I hadn’t anticipated. It just
can’t be
.”

“But it is.”

“So it is, Duke.” Hugh buckled on the pistol, dropped to his knees. Framed in the tunnel’s mouth was still the vision of lush greenness where there should have been blasted countryside and crater glass. He started to crawl.

He stood up and moved away from the mouth, then looked around.

“Daddy! Isn’t this
lovely!
”

Karen was below him on a slope that ran down to a stream. Across it the land rose and was covered with trees. On this side was a semi-clearing. The sky was blue, sunlight warm and bright, and there was no sign of war’s devastation, nor any sign of man—not a building, a road, a path, no contrails in the sky. It was wilderness, and there was nothing that he recognized.

“Daddy, I’m going down to the creek.”

“Come here! Where’s Barbara?”

“Up here, Hugh.” He turned and saw her up the slope, above the shelter. “I’m trying to figure out what happened. What do you think?”

The shelter sat cocked on the slope, a huge square monolith. Dirt clung to it save where the tunnel had cracked off and a jagged place where the stairwell had been. The armor door was exposed just above him.

“I don’t think,” he admitted.

Duke emerged, dragging a rifle. He stood up, looked around, and said nothing.

Barbara and Karen joined them. Dr.-Livingstone-I-Presume came bounding up to tag Hugh on the ankle and dash away. Obviously the Persian gave the place full approval; it was just right for cats.

Duke said, “I give up. Tell me.”

Hugh did not answer. Karen said, “Daddy, why can’t I go down to the creek? I’m going to take a bath. I stink.”

“It won’t hurt you to stink. I’m confused. I don’t want to be confused still more by worrying about your drowning—”

“It’s shallow.”

“—or eaten by a bear, or falling in quicksand. You girls go inside, arm yourselves, and then come out if you want to. But stick close and keep your eyes peeled. Tell Joe to come out.”

“Yes, sir.” The girls went.

“What do you think, Duke?”

“Well… I reserve my opinion.”

“If you have one, it’s more than I have. Duke, I’m stonkered. I planned for all sorts of things. This wasn’t on the list. If you have opinions, for God’s sake spill them.”

“Well—This looks like mountain country in Central America. Of course that’s impossible.”

“No point in worrying about whether it’s possible. Suppose it was Central America. What would you watch for?”

“Let me see. Might be cougars. Snakes certainly. Tarantulas and scorpions. Malaria mosquitoes. You mentioned bears.”

“I meant bears as a symbol. We’re going to have to watch everything, every minute, until we know what we’re up against.”

Joe came out, carrying a rifle. He kept quiet and looked around. Duke said, “We won’t starve. Off to the left down by the stream.”

Hugh looked. A dappled fawn, hardly waist high, was staring at them, apparently unafraid. Duke said, “Shall I drop it?” He raised his rifle.

“No. Unless you are dead set on fresh meat.”

“All right. Pretty thing, isn’t it?”

“Very. But it’s no North American deer I ever saw. Duke? Where are we? And how did we get here?”

Duke gave a lopsided grin. “Dad, you appointed yourself Fuehrer. I’m not supposed to think.”

“Oh, rats!”

“Anyhow, I don’t know. Maybe the Russkis developed a hallucination bomb.”

“But would we all see the same thing?”

“No opinion. But if I had shot that deer, I’ll bet we could have eaten it.”

“I think so, too. Joe? Ideas, opinions, suggestions?”

Joe scratched his head. “Mighty pretty country. But I’m a city boy.”

“One thing you can do, Hugh.”

“What, Duke?”

“Your little radio. Try it.”

“Good idea.” Hugh crawled inside, caught Karen about to climb down, sent her back for it. While he waited, he wondered what he had that was suitable for a ladder? Chinning themselves in a six-foot manhole was tedious.

The radio picked up static but nothing else. Hugh switched it off. “We’ll try it tonight. I’ve gotten Mexico with it at night, even Canada.” He frowned. “Something ought to be on the air. Unless they smeared us completely.”

“Dad, you aren’t thinking straight.”

“How, Duke?”

“This area did not get smeared.”

“That’s why I can’t understand a radio silence.”

“Yet Mountain Springs really caught it. Ergo, we aren’t in Mountain Springs.”

“Who said we were?” Karen answered. “There’s nothing like this in Mountain Springs. Nor the whole state.”

Hugh frowned. “I guess that’s obvious.” He looked at the shelter—gross, huge, massive. “But where are we?”

“Don’t you read comic books, Daddy? We’re on another planet.”

“Don’t joke, baby girl. I’m worried.”

“I wasn’t joking. There is nothing like this within a thousand miles of home—yet here we are. Might as well be another planet. The one we had was getting used up.”