Footfall

“General, do something. Hurt them,” the President said. “Hit them hard. Isn’t there any place where there are a lot of them, and none of our people?”

“None, no. Not many, yes,” Toland said.

The President stared grimly at the screens. “Hurt them. Now. It will help American morale.”

“But, sir—”

“That was an order, General.”

Toland snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. I take it you don’t want a general bombardment.”

“No. But they can’t have it all their way. We have to hurt them. How else will we drive them out of America ?”

Why are we so sure we can do it? Jenny almost blurted it out.

“We may not be able to drive them out,” Admiral Carrell said. “We may simply have to kill them all.”

“It may come to that,” General Toland said. “It comes under the heading of destroying the country in order to save it. What we need is neutron weapons.”

“What would they do?”

“They kill without destroying the cities.” General Toland drummed his fingers against the glass wall of the office. “If our people are inside, behind stone walls, in basements-don’t most Kansans have root cellars? Places underground?”

“Many do,” the President said.

“A few feet of dirt would protect our people,” Toland said. “If the elephants are out in the open, we could zap them without destroying Kansas. Only trouble is, we don’t have the bombs.”

“Why not?”

“The few we have are in Europe ,” Admiral Carrell said carefully. “Because of public protest, we were never allowed to manufacture any large number of neutron weapons. I have asked the laboratories at Sandia and Los Alamos to try to assemble makeshift enhanced radiation weapons, but they cannot give us a schedule for their delivery.”

“But this is insane,” the President said. “A few thousand elephants-how many are there, anyway?’

“We don’t know,” Jenny admitted. “Certainly fewer than fifty thousand.”

“Even so, it must be a significant part of their ground combat strength,” General Toland said. “More troops than they can afford

to lose. If we kill them all, they may have to leave us alone in future.”

“They still control space,” Admiral Carrell said. “Major Crichton, you look like a lady who wants to say something.”

“Yes, sir,” Jenny answered. “You asked me to get the science fiction people to work. It wasn’t hard. They’ve got a number of ideas about the war.”

“Well?” the President demanded.

“Sir, I think it would be better if you heard for yourself.”

David Coffey frowned. Then suddenly he grinned. “Sure, why not? As you say, they’re the only experts we have.”

When night came, David Morgan still wasn’t home. No gin, either, Carlotta thought. Only two inches in this bottle. She’d found blackberry wine in the root cellar. It would have to do.

They sat by candlelight in the living room. There were distant sounds of thunder, and far to the east and south were flashes of light.

The skies were clear overhead. Juana sat next to a kerosene lamp with a Jane Austen novel.

“Aren’t you worried?” Carlotta asked.

“Sure, but what good does that do? David’s got a good car and a rifle. He can’t phone. What should I do?”

“I don’t know. What about—” She paused, and after a moment there were more distant sounds. “About that?”

“Nothing we can do. Should we run away? Where would we go? It’s miles to the nearest house, and Lucy can’t walk that far.”

“Don’t you have another car?”

“Not one that works. Even if we did, where would you rather be?”

“I don’t know. Want some wine?”

“No.”

And you don’t think I should, either. To hell with you. Carlotta drank the blackberry wine. It was much too sweet.

Morning came, bright and clear and cloudless, a glorious Kansas day except for ominous black clouds rising far away in the east. There was still no sign of Professor Morgan. Carlotta and Juana sat outside on the patio with coffee. The night sounds were gone. An hour passed, then part of another; then there were noises, and dust to the west.

“Cars. Trucks. Lots of them,” Juana said. She listened again. “Sound strange. Now maybe is a good time to run.”

“What’s the difference?” Carlotta asked. Maybe they’ll know something about Wes!

Juana peered down the mad. “It’s the army!” she shouted. “Our army!”

Carlotta was almost disappointed.

She counted a dozen tanks, and five truckloads of soldiers. They came up the drive and circled on both sides of the house, going right on past and out toward the abandoned barn. One vehicle that looked like a tank, but had wheels, drove up to the house and stopped. An elderly officer with a graying mustache got out.

“Joe!” Juana called.

He saluted. “Lieutenant Colonel Halverson, Kansas Militia, ma’am.” He tried to grin. “Come to see if you need help.”

“Have you seen David?” Juana demanded.

“Yes, ma’am, Major Morgan will be along in a bit. He helped us round up troops. Thought he ought to come home last night and tell you, but he said you’d understand, and we sure did need him, him and that four-wheel of his.”

“What do you intend, Colonel?” Carlotta asked. She remembered she was dressed in a wrinkled housecoat, and was ashamed.

“This is my sister,” Juana said.