Читать книгу We Who Survived - Sterling Noel - Страница 11

WEDNESDAY AND THURSDAY I stowed the food and other purchases throughout the Harrow house, with the aid of the Arabs and Sam Houston Lawrence, from the adjoining farm. By Thursday the snow had reached five feet, and the wind had increased to half a gale. I talked to Elaine and Gabe Thursday evening and they told me they were getting ready to return Friday instead of Saturday.

“I’m afraid now that everything will be shut down by Saturday,” Gabe said. “I didn’t anticipate the wind coming up as fast as it did, but you can’t predict weather such as this. We’ve got a whole new set of forces to contend with. But I’ll get the hang of it.”

“What’s the answer on the extent and concentration of the cosmic dust?” I asked him.

“It’s all been worked out by Bill Wernecke and his computer. We’ll be through the cloud in about one hundred and twenty-two years—not seventy-two years as he first figured. There’s enough dust up there to form a dozen Earths, and when we get in the center of the cloud it will be thick enough to dim out the sun—if any sunlight could get through our storms. That will be the worst period, but it shouldn’t last more than six or seven years. What will save us from complete obliteration is the speed at which this cloud is traveling, plus our own speed through it.”

“So, what do we do, Gabe?”

“We sit tight, for the time being. In less than a year the storm should settle down into a definite pattern with well-defined temperature boundaries. It won’t be nearly as bad as in the initial stage. There will be varying wind forces and varying precipitation in the different latitudes, and around the Equator there will form a belt of relatively mild weather that will be habitable.”

“Then, for God’s sake, let’s head for the Equator!” I exclaimed.

“No, it’ll be just as bad or worse there in the early stages as it will be here,” he said. “If we went there now we’d surely perish. We’ve just got to sit tight here. When the time comes we’ll move.”

“If we can,” I said.

“I’m working on something for that,” he said. “I’ve got Rance Goodrich designing a vehicle for us . . . If he can’t do it, nobody can.”

“Okay, Gabe. I’ll stop worrying.”

Elaine came on the scope and I told her of my purchases and the stowage throughout the house. Both she and Gabe were quite depressed and there were few pleasantries exchanged. As soon as they disconnected, I called Marge.

“I wanted to talk to you about the weather,” I said. Dr. Harrow believes this storm will last our lifetimes. We’re going to have to take drastic steps to survive.”

“You tell Gabe Harrow to go soak his head. I’m not going to join the weather panic.”

“I don’t want you to,” I said. “I just want you to listen to some sense. The storm is increasing in intensity every day and by Saturday most of the world will be snowed in and immobile. So don’t wait until Saturday. Come to Fallon tomorrow, and the earlier the better.”

Her face got serious, and she looked at me intently out of her gray eyes. “Vic, you’re not just trying to scare me?”

“No, Marge. It’s merely that if we are to be together, you’ll have to make up your mind that it’ll be tomorrow. If you stay in Portland, you’ll be safe enough. There are millions of people in the Complex who will fight the snow and fight to survive, and you will benefit by the efforts of all. Also, you’re just a few miles from the Atlantic, and when all the land becomes snowbound, the sea will be the only means of travel—that is, if there is any place to which people should travel.”

“Why don’t you come to Portland, then?” she asked, reasonably enough.

“Our plans for Fallon have gone too far ahead,” I replied. “We know that sooner or later we are going to have to leave. Gabe says it will be in about a year. We will go to the Equator, probably, but no one yet has suggested how we will get there. If this wind continues along with the snow, it’s certain we’re not going to get out by air. However, we’re making pretty elaborate arrangements here and we’ll be safe enough. Come tomorrow, Marge, please.”

She thought for a moment, her eyes cast down. Then she smiled up at me. “All right,” she said. “I’ll be there in the morning.”

“One other thing,” I said. “The taxis have been grounded so I’ll have to charter something fairly large for you to get from M.C. out to the farm. I’ll phone in and make the arrangements. Go to the Henderson Office at the airport and they’ll take care of you.”