Alas, Babylon

The admiral, freshly shaven and pink-faced, was in his den, touching whale oil to the recoil mechanism of an automatic shotgun. “I was wondering,” he said to Randy, “whether you would be around here or I should come to you. How’s Dan?”

“He’ll be all right. We lost the car and the medicines and the last of the bourbon but we didn’t lose our doctor. The most important thing we lost were his glasses. He’s very nearsighted.”

“You forgot something,” the Admiral said, hardly looking up from his work. “We not only have lost transport but communications. We no longer have a way to recharge batteries. This battery I have now-” he nodded at the radio-”is good for perhaps another eight to ten hours. After that “ he looked up”nothing. Silence. What do you plan to do?”

“I plan to kill them. But I don’t know how to find them. I came to talk to you about it.”

Lib said, “May I interrupt? Don’t look at me that way, Randy. I’m not trying to interfere in your business. I just wanted to say I brought the Admiral’s coffee. While you’re talking, I thought I’d boil water and make a cup for him.”

The Admiral said, absently, “Kettle’s in the fireplace.”

She went into the living room. It was silly, but sometimes the Admiral irritated her. The Admiral made her feel like a mess boy.

Sam Hazzard laid the automatic sixteen gently on the desk.

“Ever since I heard about it, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You have to go get them. They won’t come to you. Not only that, they may be a hundred miles from here by now.”

“I think they’re right around here,” Randy said. “One of the gang was a local drugstore cowboy, now toting two real guns. And they don’t have enough gas to get far. I think they’ll try to score a few more times before they move on. Even when they’re gone, others will come. We have the problem whether it’s this particular gang or another gang. I’m going to try to form a provisional company.”

“Vigilantes?”

“No. A company under martial law. So far as I know I’m the only active Army Reserve officer in town so I guess it’s up to me.” “Then what do you do?”

Lib came in and set a cup beside each of them. She found a clear space at the far end of the room-length desk, boosted herself up, and attempted to appear inconspicuous.

“Suppose I organized a patrol on foot? Set up roadblocks?” Randy suggested.

“The highwaymen were mobile, you’re not,” the Admiral said. “If they see an armed patrol, or a roadblock, they’ll simply keep out of your way.”

Randy said, “Well, we can’t just sit here and wait for them.” “All this I’ve been thinking,” The Admiral said. “Also I was thinking of the Q-ships we used in the First World War.”

Lib started to speak but decided it would be unwise. It was Randy who said, “I remember, vaguely, reading about Q-ships but I don’t remember much about it. Enlighten me, Sam.”

“Q-ships were usually auxiliary schooners or wornout tramps, targets on which a German submarine captain wouldn’t be likely to waste a torpedo but would prefer to sink with gunfire. Concealed a pretty hefty battery behind screens that looked like deck loads. Drill was to prowl submarine alley unescorted and helpless looking. The sub sees her and surfaces. Sometimes the Q-ship had a panic party that took to the boats. Best part of the act. Soon as the sub opened fire with its deck gun the Q-ship ran up the flag and unmasked the battery. Blammy! It was quite effective.” “Very ingenious. But what has it got to do with highwaymen?”

“Nothing at all, unless you can put a four-wheeled Q-ship on the roads around Fort Repose.”

Randy shrugged. “We’re not mobile. Plenty of cars we could use-for instance, yours, Sam-but gasoline is practically nonexistent. We might have to cruise around for days before they tack led us. I might be able to requisition a gallon or two here and there but then the word would get around and they’d be watching for us.”

Lib had to speak. “Could I make a suggestion? I think Rita Hernandez and her brother must have gasoline. They’re the big traders in town, aren’t they?”

Randy had tried to wipe Rita out of his mind. They were even, they were quits. He wanted nothing from Rita any more. He said, “It’s true that if anybody’s holding gas, it’s Rita.”

“Not only that,” Lib said, “but they have that grocery truck. Can you imagine anything more enticing to highwaymen than a grocery truck? They won’t really think it’s filled with groceries, of course, but psychologically it would be irresistible.”

Sam Hazzard smiled with his eyes, as if light from within penetrated the opaque gray. “There you have it, Randy! Nice staff work, my girl!”

“Also,” she said, “I think it would be a good idea if I drove. They’d be sure to think it was easy pickings with a woman driving.”