Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 98

"Drive on! Get rolling!"

They followed the state road through Los Padres Na- tional Forest, stopping once to fill the tank from their cans.

They turned off onto a dirt road. Meade kept trying the radio, got San Francisco once but it was too jammed with static to read. Then she got Salt Lake City, faint but clear:

"since there are no reports of anything pa.s.sing our radar screen the Kansas City bomb must be a.s.sumed to have been planted rather than delivered. This is a tentative theory but" They pa.s.sed into a deep cut and lost the rest.

When the squawk box again came to life it was a new voice: "Conelrad," said a crisp voice, "coming to you over the combined networks. The rumor that Los Angeles has been hit by an atom bomb is totally unfounded. It is true that the western metropolis has suffered a severe earth- quake shock but that is all. Government officials and the

Red Cross are on the spot to care for the victims, butand I repeatthere has been no atomic bombing. So relax and stay in your homes. Such wild rumors can damage the

United States quite as much as enemy's bombs. Stay off the highways and listen for" Breen snapped it off.

"Somebody," he said bitterly, "has again decided that

'Mama knows best.' They won't tell us any bad news."

"Potiphar," Meade said sharply, "that was an atom bomb

. . . wasn't it?"

"It was. And now we don't know whether it was just Los

Angelesand Kansas Cityor all the big cities in the coun- try. All we know is that they are lying to us."

"Maybe I can get another station?"

"The h.e.l.l with it." He concentrated on driving. The road was very bad.

As it began to get light she said, "Pottydo you know where we're going? Are we just keeping out of cities?"

"I think I do. If I'm not lost." He stared around them.

"Nope, it's all right. See that hill up forward with the triple gendarmes on its profile?"

"Gendarmes?"

"Big rock pillars. That's a sure landmark. I'm looking for a private road now. It leads to a hunting lodge belonging to two of my friendsan old ranch house actually, but as a ranch it didn't pay."

"Oh. They won't mind us using it?"

He shrugged. "If they show up, we'll ask them. If they show up. They lived in Los Angeles, Meade."

"Oh. Yes, I guess so."

The private road had once been a poor grade of wagon trail; now it was almost impa.s.sable. But they finally topped a hogback from which they could see almost to the Pacific, then dropped down into a sheltered bowl where the cabin was. "All out, girl. End of the line."

Meade sighed. "It looks heavenly."

"Think you can rustle breakfast while I unload? There's probably wood in the shed. Or can you manage a wood range?"

"Just try me."

Two hours later Breen was standing on the hogback, smoking a cigarette, and staring off down to the west. He wondered if that was a mushroom cloud up San Francisco way? Probably his imagination, he decided, in view of the distance. Certainly there was nothing to be seen to the south.

Meade came out of the cabin. "Pottyl"

"Up here."

She joined him, took his hand, and smiled, then snitched his cigarette and took a deep drag. She expelled it and said,

"I know it's sinful of me, but I feel more peaceful than I have in months and months."

"I know."

"Did you see the canned goods in that pantry? We could pull through a hard winter here."

"We might have to."

"I suppose. I wish we had a cow."

"What would you do with a cow?"

"I used to milk four cows before I caught the school bus, every morning. I can butcher a hog, too."

"I'll try to find one."

"You do and III manage to smoke it." She yawned. "I'm suddenly terribly sleepy."

"So am 1. And small wonder."

"Let's go to bed."

"Uh, yes. Meade?"

"Yes, Potty?"

"We may be here quite a while. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Potty."

"In fact it might be smart to stay put until those curves all start turning up again. They will, you know."

"Yes. I had figured that out."

He hesitated, then went on, "Meade . . . will you marry me?"

"Yes." She moved up to him.