"Frank, we have to! We can't go on pumping dioxin into the atmosphere!" Carter Reid clutched his arm. "We're supposed to be saving the human race, not killing it off!"
Hanamura shook him off roughly, reached out, took hold of the broad band of paper, and wrenched it from the machine and started tearing it to shreds.
The pens jittered on, aimlessly tracing peaks and troughs, recording the same message onto nothing.
Of course they knew the name. His book was their bible. It was Gavin Chase who had started Earth Foundation--but the photograph on the dust jacket and the face on TV bore scant resemblance to the disheveled middle-aged man with dark circles under his eyes who sat haggard from lack of sleep behind the wheel of the jeep.
The tall broad-shouldered young man with fair hair and thick white eyebrows had a kind of leering smile on his face, as if secretly amused by something. "You really Dan's father? No shit?"
It wasn't the most welcoming of arrivals, to be waved down by four young men with rifles as they approached the settlement along the western shore of Goose Lake. About a mile away was a cluster of wooden buildings, set among fir trees. Chase held his irritation in check. They were young and excitable, fingering their weapons as if itching to use them, and there was a feverishness in their eyes that disturbed him.
"Yes, Dan is my son. Are you going to let us through now?"
The one with fair hair glanced at the others, who copied his smirk.
Ruth's patience was even more depleted than Chase's. She exploded. "Listen, you bunch of pricks! Either let us pass or find somebody with some real authority. We're in no mood to be messed about by fucking morons!"
The fair-haired young man didn't take kindly to her attitude. His ruddy face flushed even darker.
"Do you want me to go get your father, Baz?" asked one of his companions.
"Shut up," Baz Brannigan said to no one in particular.
"I received a message from Nick Power telling me that Cheryl Detrick was ill," Chase said, doing his best to retrieve what was left of the situation. "If you want to ride along with us, Nick Power will confirm that, okay?" He smiled tiredly. "After what we've seen between Utah and here I don't blame you for taking precautions."
It was just enough, it seemed, to save the young man's face. He debated for a moment and gave a surly nod, then gestured with his rifle to one of the others, who climbed onto the back of the jeep. As Chase drove on he could see the fair-haired young man in the mirror, standing in the middle of the road and watching them all the way.
Nick was pleased and relieved to see them. He'd been afraid they wouldn't get through. Over the past year, and the last six months in particular, things had got to be very bad. They'd had trouble with the refugees from the south, many of whom had set up camps in the woods nearby. The morale at Goose Lake was in pretty poor shape.
"We noticed," Ruth said, lying back exhausted in the living room of Nick's cabin. It was a pine-clad, single-story building with a shingled roof, plainly yet comfortably furnished. "Is that why you've got those gun-happy teen-age hoodlums guarding the road?"
Nick and his wife, fen, who was pouring tea, exchanged looks. "That's Baz Brannigan and his mob. Baz is Tom Brannigan's son. Tom's the council leader--or he was until he got a dose of megalomania and set himself up as dictator."
"Today Goose Lake, tomorrow . . ." ]en said, handing around the tea, though she wasn't smiling; clearly it wasn't a joke.
"Well, I suppose it's necessary to have someone watching the road," Chase said.
"You miss the point, Gav. These kids are Brannigan's personal militia. They're bombed out of their skulls most of the time--and they're there to keep people in as well as out."
Chase paused with the cup halfway to his lips. "You mean you're not allowed to leave here? In heaven's name, why?"
"Ask the Brannigans," Nick shrugged. "Either of them, because I'm not sure who's in charge anymore, father or son, and neither are they." He looked at Chase, his expression deadly serious. "I wasn't kidding about the megalomania. Tom Brannigan's developed a king-size power complex; he sees Goose Lake as his own private empire. And with Baz around, things get kind of complicated because
On top of everything else Chase couldn't take this in. Where he'd expected to find a stable, tightly knit community, there was instead fear, resentment, and suspicion, as if a potent nerve gas had seeped under their doors while they slept. Goose Lake wasn't a refuge anymore, a haven from the crazy world outside: It reflected in microcosm the chaos and disintegration that infected the rest of the country. There was no escape.
"Have you found out what's wrong with Cheryl yet?"
