Slow Apocalypse

by John Varley

  It had stopped with the first hopper car blocking the road, the engine just beyond it facing south. Painted boldly on the side of the cab was the number 3025. Addison got down from the horse and started walking toward a man in striped coveralls who was standing on the ground contending with a frozen bolt with a wrench as long as his arm.

  “It’s Mr. Henrikson,” she said over her shoulder. “The man we talked to at Travel Town. Hi, Mr. Henrikson.” The man looked up. He was sweaty and his face was almost black with coal dust. He frowned for a moment, then his white dentures showed through the darkness in a big smile.

  “Why, I remember you, young lady. You’re…”

  “Addison.”

  “Of course, Addison, how could I forget such a lovely name?”

  She blushed, and was clearly pleased. Mark came hurrying up.

  “My God, man, is that thing going to explode?”

  “Well, I sure hope not, friend. I was hoping to make a few more trips.”

  “I can’t believe you got Number 3025 working.”

  “You know this engine?”

  “Sure. She’s a magnificent old beast. You guys have worked a miracle.”

  Henrikson hadn’t seemed to like Mark much at first, but now he warmed to him.

  “Well, between you and me, she’s a cantankerous old beast, too. She breaks down every fifty miles or so, but we keep her going. Bubble gum and duct tape, mostly.”

  Mark and Dave gave him a hand with the wrench, and the combined efforts of the three got the bolt loosened and then removed. Henrikson peered down into a chamber, shook his head, and poured a can of something into it. As they worked he told them about his recent adventures. This was the first shipment of coal.

  “First two were food. Government surplus stuff, crackers and cheese and powdered milk, bags of rice, flour, sugar. Wouldn’t be surprised if some of it was laid down back in the fifties, when everybody was digging fallout shelters. Most of it’s stale as hell, but edible.”

  Dave was amazed at how his spirits were lifted at the sight of the old train and its engineer. Somewhere, someone was doing something on a level higher than the strictly local, even if they hadn’t seen much evidence of it.

  They were escorted to a high school. City Hall had been damaged and was unsafe, they were told, so the city council had relocated to the school gymnasium. The start of the school year had been indefinitely postponed.

  They had been informed that there was a waiting list of several weeks to get a hearing on an application for admittance to the community, and all those people were waiting in the camp north of town. They had been moved to the head of the line by the intervention of one of the councilwomen.

  “Any of them can do that,” Lopez told them. “Mostly they’ve done it when personal friends show up from L.A. or San Diego. Councilwoman Ortiz was real impressed with how you handled the Overlords up there. I told you they came raiding in the night. In one of those raids her sister and brother-in-law and their child were killed. I’d say you’ve got her vote wrapped up.”

  “How many are on the council?”

  “Five.”

  “And how many votes do we need? All five?”

  “Just three.”

  They gathered in the parking lot to talk it over before entering the gym.

  “I guess it’s obvious, but I’ll point it out, anyway,” Bob said. “This…this tribunal will determine our fate for some time to come. Think of it as the most important job interview of your life.”

  “It’s not right,” Lisa said. “I’m inclined to throw my lot in with those people in the camp. Why should we be treated any different than them?”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Bob said. “It’s not fair. And if you want to do that, I will respect your decision. But here’s how I see it. If we are not admitted to this community, I will submit quietly. Then we can talk about whether to go to the camp, or try to go south. But if we are admitted, I intend to devote myself not only to the welfare of my family, which has been almost my only concern for many months now, but to the whole community, which includes those in the camp.

  “I’m assuming that this town is trying to come back to the point where they can take in those less fortunate than themselves. I assume that about all the other towns that have turned us away. It’s been the only way I can get through the day, hoping that people are not solely protecting themselves, but trying to reach a position where they can provide for others, too. If that turns out not to be the case, if no one here is trying to make things better for those outside, then I will join you, Lisa, and stay in the camp.”

  Bob paused here, and wiped away tears. Dave was moved, too, as Bob had spoken out loud the thing that had been gnawing at him for a long time, and had been first brought out into the open by his daughter. He desperately wanted a home, but he didn’t want to live behind walls while people died outside.

  “I intend to do whatever is needed to provide food and shelter to not only all of you, but to those outside. If it means digging an irrigation ditch with pick and shovel, I will do that. If it means stoop labor, I will do that. But the way I see it, I can only do that on this side of the fence. Yes, I want food and security, but I hope I have the strength of character to give up those things if the work I’m doing here is only going to benefit a small group of people. If anyone else has a better idea, I’m eager to hear it.”

  There was a silence, finally broken by Teddy.

  “All I can say is, I think you should do all the talking, Dad.”

  There was laughter, and Bob grinned, but he was shaking his head.

  “I have been running off at the mouth, haven’t I? But I’m afraid I’m all talked out. I think we should all speak up for ourselves. But we do need a spokesman, and I appeal to the Fearless Leader of our defunct writing team. Dave?”

  “Yaaaay!” Jenna shouted, and Addison took up the cheer.

  Dave could not recall anything he had ever wanted less than to have the responsibility for the whole group, but he knew that sometimes when a job is thrust upon you, you just have to do it.

  “I am confident we’ll get through this,” he told them. “I’ll do what I can. Lopez says we already have one vote. I agree with Bob that we should all speak up. But we should speak up for each other, okay? Any other suggestions?”

  “Try to be positive,” Rachel said.

  “Without too much ass-kissing,” Teddy suggested.

  “We need to look strong, and confidence is always a good thing,” Marian said.

  “And tell the truth,” Dave added. “If what we are and what we’ve done isn’t good enough for them…well, then they’re not good enough for us.”

  The five members of the council sat behind an ordinary folding cafeteria table, on folding chairs. Behind them were the flags of the United States and California. In front of them were several rows of folding chairs, on which the family was invited to sit.

  Councilwoman Barbara Ortiz, a Hispanic woman who looked to be around fifty, sat at one end of the table, smiling at them. None of the others were smiling.

  Next to her was Edgar Kovacs, a balding man of around sixty, dressed in the first suit and tie Dave had seen in a long time. He did not look, in Dave’s estimation, like an ally.

  Melanie Gold was also sixtyish, with her gray hair in a tight bun and her mouth in a prim line. She reminded Dave of a particularly harsh elementary-school principal he had known, not fondly.

  She was the chairperson, and briefly introduced the others. She herself was a lawyer, Kovacs was a real-estate agent, and Ortiz owned a boat dealership.

  At the other end was Pablo Martinez, the second Hispanic and the youngest-looking on the panel, late thirties or early forties. He owned a chain of five restaurants strung out along the valley. His expression was neutral, impossible for Dave to read.

  And last, between Martinez and Gold, was a very obese man in a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. When Gold started to introduce him he interrupted her, named himself as Stewart
Jankowitz, and described himself as a “Net designer, business analyst, blogger, and rabble-rouser.” It sounded like the man saw himself as an iconoclast, who might resist going with the crowd. Dave didn’t know if that was good or bad for his family.

  He noticed that not one of the five was in a profession that was in demand at present. There was not much work for lawyers or real-estate agents or the sellers of pleasure boats, and none at all for a Net designer and blogger. The times must be lean for restaurant owners, too, though maybe not so bad for cooks. What work there might be for a “rabble-rouser” was anyone’s guess.

  Dave wondered if this would work for them or against them. Three of the family, including himself, were totally useless in their previous professions as comedy writers. Rachel had been a reporter. Gordon was a teacher. Lake Elsinore probably had plenty of them, and even so, school was out for a period hard to determine. Teddy was a social worker. In the current state of things, there would probably be little need of that.

  Seven of them were minor children, one of them mentally challenged, though five were teenagers qualified for heavy labor. Two had been stay-at-home mothers.

  Only Lisa and Mark had what everyone would agree were valuable skills. Marian, as a military veteran, could probably do police work well.

  That seemed to him the sum total of their human assets. Add in the two vehicles, the supplies they had left, and the horse, and it still didn’t look that promising.

  He looked at the panel facing him. Momentarily casting himself as a jury consultant, he added it up as one for, one possible, and three probably against.

  It didn’t really feel like a hearing. More like a court-martial.

  He introduced himself and everyone present. He was about to go on when he was interrupted by Councilwoman Gold.

  “Thank you, Mr. Marshall. I’d like to make a short opening statement, so that you know what’s going on here.

  “None of us are happy to be sitting in judgement of refugees. We are sympathetic to them, but the sad fact is that we are overwhelmed. They keep flooding south from the cities of the Los Angeles metro area. Everyone from Corona to San Bernardino seems to be heading our way, or has already arrived. Most of these people have nothing.

  “I hope you understand that we feel we have to protect ourselves.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we do.” But Gold wasn’t finished.

  “I think you can understand, then, that we are extremely worried about being attacked. The people in the camps are getting less-than-subsistence rations. So far they have been mostly peaceful—”

  “Because they’re too weak and worn-out to stand up for themselves,” Jankowitz put in. Dave tentatively put him into the “for” column, based on the outburst.

  “Possibly,” Gold conceded. “I don’t know how to remedy that.”

  “By giving them something to do.”

  It was easy to see that this wasn’t a new debate. Jankowitz was for “the people,” the great mass of the desperate. Dave felt sure that Gold was not on his side.

  “Mr. Marshall,” Ortiz spoke up. “I’d like to know how you and your family feel about the people outside. Not so much the reasons why you want to get in, and why we should let you, but how you feel about the others we aren’t letting in.”

  Dave was glad they had discussed it. Without knowing how Ortiz felt about the question, he felt he had to follow his own advice and tell the truth.

  “Obviously as an outsider I don’t have a vote here on any matter. And we don’t know much about your situation other than what you’ve just told us, so our opinion isn’t formed by much information. We do understand your fear. We’ve felt it many times ourselves. But I can tell you that, much as we want to become a part of your community, we don’t feel that we are special. I will plead our case, but if we are admitted, we will be on the side of those who want to help those who aren’t admitted. We all agree that our best bet would be to do everything we can to turn those refugees into allies with work to do, instead of barring the door and letting them get hungrier and angrier every day.”

  “Hear, hear,” Jankowitz shouted.

  “Stewart,” Gold protested, “we agreed this is not to be a debate, just a hearing to decide what to do with these people.”

  “I’m not debating. Just agreeing. You know where I stand.”

  Gold frowned at him, but went on with her statement.

  “Right or wrong, we have adopted a policy of admitting new members to our community only in exceptional cases. You stand before us today, and we want to get to know you a little better before we make our decision. Now, we know about the horse and the doctor and the engineer, and that’s all to the good.”

  Dave noticed the horse came first on the list. Wouldn’t it be something if the damn animal, which he had seen as a necessary evil and a pain in the ass for much of the trip, made a difference in this hearing.

  “Don’t forget what they did to the Overlords,” Ortiz put in.

  “Yes, I’m sure we’re all relieved about that, though as an officer of the court I can’t entirely approve of taking the law into your own hands. When this is all over and things get back to normal that might have to be investigated.”

  Dave saw Edgar Kovacs give her a slightly startled look. In other words, Dave thought, thanks, and you’re under arrest. He began to wonder if Attorney Gold was in serious denial about how long it might take for things to get back to normal. Was she expecting to be back at work negotiating contracts and divorces and writing wills in the next few weeks?

  “Ms. Gold,” Dave said, “I hope you don’t think we’re trigger-happy. We did what we had to do, just as you are doing at your borders. I hope your police officers and volunteers never have to do what we did…but you may. All of us will be haunted for the rest of our lives by that night of killing.”

  “I certainly didn’t mean to imply—”

  “Yes, Melanie, I think you went a little too far there,” Kovacs said. “I want to personally thank you, all of you, for wiping out those scum. We’ve always been a peaceful town, a good place to live, and I believe deeply in the concept of law and order. But there is very little order now, and law seems to be inadequate to meet the situation.”

  Gold was glaring at him. Dave knew he had made an enemy, but he was pretty sure she had been against them from the start. He looked over at Bob, and his friend gave him a tiny nod.

  But was Kovacs on their side?

  “All right, I apologize,” Gold said, obviously just to regain the floor. Already Dave hated her. “If we can get back to what I wanted to know at the beginning…” She looked around at her colleagues and no one objected. “Fine. Maybe you can all tell us about yourselves. What you have done, what you might bring to this community.”

  Dave looked behind him, and saw Teddy step up.

  “I’m Teddy Winston. I’m twenty-eight, the youngest of Bob and Emily’s children. I bicycled from San Diego to Los Angeles to join my family, and it was not easy. I am a social worker, with expertise in drug rehabilitation. I can also function as a scrub nurse.” He went on with a few more biographical details. He did not mention that he was gay. Dave had wondered if he would. It was nobody’s business, but might count against them if any of the five were prejudiced.

  To Dave’s surprise, Karen decided to go next.

  “I’m Dave’s wife, Karen Marshall. This is my daughter, Addison. What I was best at before all this happened was shopping, I’m afraid. Our family was reasonably well-off, and I lost track of what was important in life. I have gotten a new appreciation for real values. I know how to work hard, and I held a lot of different jobs when we were struggling. My wonderful daughter, Addison, is one of the brightest students in her school, and if there’s anything she doesn’t know about horses I can’t imagine what it is. Addison, do you want to say something?”

  “No, Mom. You’ve embarrassed me enough.” She gave the panel a small smile. “I just want to say, I’d like to live here.” Dave put his arm around his daug
hter and held her tightly against him.

  Lisa went next. She spoke awkwardly, giving the bare-bones details of her medical education, residency, and practice, listing the hospitals where she had worked. Nigel and Elyse stood by her side. Nigel was quiet, calm, and articulate, mentioning his 4.0 grade point average and his ambition to be an architect.

  “Give me a hammer, a saw, a few tools like that and I can build anything. I know how to fix pipes and work with electricity. My dad…” He paused and looked at the floor for a moment. “My dad taught me to be a pretty good fisherman. That’s about it, I guess.”

  Elyse put on a brave front, but she didn’t have that many manual skills, other than being a good cook. And, of course, the recent training both siblings had received as hospital orderly, nurse, and even surgeon’s assistant.

  Mark spoke confidently for both himself and Rachel, but Dave noticed that Gold was starting to look impatient, and Kovacs seemed to be about to drift off. They were probably as exhausted as his family.

  When Mark paused, Gold seemed about to speak up, but was interrupted by Martinez, the restaurant man.

  “That’s all very impressive, Mr. Winston,” he said. “I’m sure you could be very useful to us. But like Melanie said, we already know about your being an engineer, and about the doctor. I’d like to hear from some others. You, for instance, Mr. Marshall. What do you do for a living?”

  Here we go, Dave thought. He took a breath, and dived in.

  “I’m a writer. In fact, Jenna and Bob and myself are all writers.”

  This didn’t get much of a reaction. In fact, Martinez frowned. In Southern California, where everybody has a screenplay they would be happy to show you, writers were thick on the ground. Very few of them had ever had anything published or produced. Even this far from Hollywood, being a writer cut very little ice.