Time spike

by Eric Flint

  That was what they needed, and what they had the right to. "You've all heard the numbers. We have a two-month supply of food, if we stretch it. Our water is almost gone. Our sanitation system is shaky. And we have no heating or cooling after tomorrow. Medical supplies are limited. Our firepower is limited, because we only have so much ammunition. We don't have enough clothing." Collins was nodding, as if Andywas agreeing with him. "We don't know our environment. We don't know what is going on around us. You heard Edelman. You heard Hulbert.

  You heard Joe. We don't know when we are. We don't know who is outside these walls, if anyone. There could be a friendly, advanced, civilization on the other side of the mountain, or no one but us anywhere on the planet." The room was completely silent. Collins was actually smirking, now. It was time to lower the boom. "And before we've had time to figure out how to deal with any of this, Mr. Genius here"-he pointed at Collins-"thinks it's a really bright idea to let twenty-five hundred of the state's most dangerous felons out of their cells. Maybe he thinks some good ideas will emerge from the ensuing debate between Boomer and his boys and the Aryans." That brought a sudden gust of laughter from most of the guards. Collins seem to wilt a little. "No, I don't think so," Andy said forcefully. "There will be no get out of jail freecards passed out. Not yet, anyway. Not until we know who and what is outside the prison walls, and until we're sure we have the situation under control." "If we wait too long," Collins shouted, "it will be too late! We will die!" "No. If we move too fast in the wrong direction, then we will die. We can't afford to get careless. And I can't think of a better definition of the word 'carelessness' than poorly supervised prisoners." He looked at Schuler. "Joe, how many men are on exploration duty?" "Four teams of three." Andy looked at the men and women crowded into the room. "These men are out there looking for water, food, and anything else that we might be able to use. They are also looking for signs of civilization, for other people." He looked at Jenny. "What's medical doing?" She stood up and faced the crowd. "We are doing very little. We're holding back on everything and anything that doesn't have to be used to keep a person alive today. We're looking for replacement treatments and replacement meds. We're setting up first aid classes to teach people how to deal with medical emergencies common in a more primitive environment. We're also in the process of developing hygiene classes.

  Careful washing of small cuts has suddenly become very important. The same thing goes for avoiding worms and other parasites. We are all going to have to learn new ways of doing things if we want to stay healthy." "Baker," Andy called, "what are you doing about our heat source?" Laughter rolled from the man. "We're trying an experiment. I don't know how well it'll work, but I read once in a magazine where villages in India do it. We're setting up methane toilets. Little outhouses designed to turn fecal waste into a gas that can be burned."

  A moan came from the crowd, followed by boos and shouts of, "Oh, how gross!" Baker shrugged. "Look, folks, it's what we got. The Indians use pig crap, and we don't have any pigs. On the other hand, we've got almost three thousand people in the prison, counting everybody. That's a lot of crap. So much, in fact, that with the sewers down the maintenance guys are wracking their brains just trying to figure out how to get rid of it. We figure we may as well do this while we're at it. If nothing else, it should generate enough methane to keep the kitchens going." "Okay," Andy said. "You get the idea. We have problems-a lot of problems-but we're working at solving them. We'll use our prisoners' favorite recipe for pruno to make a form of fuel.

  When it's done we'll be able to mix it with what gas we have. That will allow us to stretch our supply and use some of our older vehicles and generators. During the Second World War, the Germans used alcohol to fuel their war effort. It's not the greatest answer, but it will do the job, at least for a while. "When we get these things under control we'll get busy solving some of our other problems. Have a little faith. Man has survived a long time with nothing but his brains. I really think we're smart enough to get through this." He shot Collins a look. For the moment, at least, the bastard seemed cowed by the ridicule he'd gotten. "I've appointed over a dozen project managers.

  Each of these managers will need volunteers. They will be posting lists sometime within the next few days. Anyone interested in helping out, sign up. If you don't see something that will utilize a skill you have, come talk to me. I'll give your name to someone who can use what you know." Jeff Edelman spoke up. "I need people with mapping skills.

  That means people capable of drawing a straight line, and good at drawing things to a scale. It doesn't mean someone who has actually drawn a map professionally. We need to send someone capable of mapping an area with each exploration party that leaves the prison. It would be nice if that person could also catalogue the different plant and animals being found." Rice was next. "I'm building a green house. I need laborers able and willing to do some shovel work, and people with green thumbs. I'm also looking for anyone who understands sprouting and herb production." Collins flared up again. "And when are we suppose to do all this volunteerism? We're working twelve-hour shifts with no days off. We need to put the prisoners to work, I tell you!"

  Andy took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He really wanted to take a poke at the jackass standing in the middle of the room. "Collins, you aren't going to force me into making a snap judgment. So, sit down and be quiet, unless you have something constructive to say. Everyone here is aware of our limitations and most of us are aware of our responsibilities." Kathleen stood up next. Her face was a combination of pale white areas and red blotches caused from crying. "If this is going to last for more than a few days, we need a place to rest. Is there a way we can move prisoners in with each other? We, the guards, we need bedrooms. Someplace to get away that is our own. Someplace quiet. And we need a place to go when we're off duty and want to be around people. Maybe we could keep the cafeteria open." Andy looked at Hulbert. "Sure," the man said. "I'll open the cafeteria as soon as we finish here. But I don't want any bloodshed so it's going to take a couple of days to arrange sleeping quarters. We can't just pile the prisoners in together. Imagine sticking Boomer in with one of the skinheads." The room erupted into laughter. "Boomer" was the nickname for an inmate named Timmy Bolgeo, and it fit the man. He was a three-hundred-pound black weight lifter who was normally easy enough to deal with. But he did have an anger management problem, and when his temper went things got pretty thermonuclear. The skinheads were his favorite method of venting. Andy grinned and motioned for Woeltje to open the doors. The guards' laughter could be heard all over the building. And laughter was as good a way as any to end the meeting.

  Actually, it had ended a lot better than he'd thought it would. In retrospect, Collins' opposition had given Andy the handle to settle people down. With the meeting over he asked Jenny if he could walk her back to the infirmary. Her easy smile and soft voice were two things he had come to lean on, these past two days. They eased his tension and made making bad choices easier. And all the choices had become bad. Like his decision to cut water rations in half. And food rations by one third. And his decision to not notice that the only diabetic getting an insulin shot was a young guard who stood watch in the east tower. The nurses had agonized over that decision. They could keep all the insulin-dependent diabetics alive for sixteen days, or one diabetic alive for six months. They had chosen the six months. And they had chosen the youngest person in need. Jenny was the one who finally made the call. She was having to make all the tough calls coming out of the infirmary. The other nurses had basically jumped into the back seat, leaving it to her to drive the bus. She was making and then living with her bad choices, just like he was. "Before the meeting you said you had a problem." He walked slowly, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. He'd spent almost all his time since the Quiver in meetings of one sort or another. "Yeah," she smiled, but it was thin and didn't hold any humor. "I'm running out of supplies.

  Seizure medications, antidepressants, blood pressure meds, heart m
eds, you name it. Unfortunately, we were running low on a lot of medications when this hit. Starting tomorrow, people aren't going to get their regular doses. I juggled the diabetics. Put them on oral meds instead of their injections and changed their diets to buy them a little time. I could do it with the prisoners because I could control their activity level as well as their food intake. A guard was different. If she was going to work she had to have her meds." They were at the door to the infirmary. "I'm sorry you were put in the position of choosing, Jenny." "Sorry or not, I have to do it again.

  And then again. And again." He had to restrain a powerful impulse to reach out and stroke her hair. It was hanging loose today; the rubber band she had been using to tie it back was gone. "We're all doing it.

  We have no choice." She nodded, then leaned against him. They stood like that a few moments, her head on his chest. He could feel her tears as they soaked through his shirt. "Jenny!" Barbara called from inside the building. She straightened and smiled. "Thanks for the shoulder." He nodded and watched her disappear into the building and mentally kicked himself. Some men would have come up with something to say that would have made her feel better. They wouldn't have stood there like a lump of clay.

  Chapter 11 Two days later, Andy, Jenny, Rod and Joe sat inside the cafeteria sipping their one and only cup of coffee for the day.

  Knowing that coffee would be gone soon made it taste all the better.

  According to the head cook, the kitchen was stretching what they had as far as they could. But stretching it or not, six days from now the black brew would disappear from the face of the Earth. Never to be seen again, probably, at least not in their lifetime. "We're getting behind at the infirmary," Jenny said. "We have to have some help with the cleaning. Those floors and cabinets haven't been washed down since the Quiver. And with only four of us, we don't have the time. The guard you've loaned us spends most of her time working as a medical assistant. I can't spare the time for her to do a little cleaning. As for Barbara and Lylah, they're putting in fourteen-hour days just caring for patients. There's no time left for the grunt work. And without it, we're going to start getting epidemics." Andy nodded. The kitchen had already asked for a few prisoners to help with their workload. So had the project managers. "Okay, I'll start sending a few prisoners to work, but I hate to. I can't spare the C.O.'s to make the situation safe." Jenny chewed her bottom lip for a second then said,

  "I have the prisoners' charts. Let me go through them and then give you a list. Not everyone here is psychotic, after all. I can give you a list of those who aren't in for violent crimes, or at least the ones I don't think are dangerous." Andy nodded, although he was skeptical.

  The guards never saw the charts, but they always knew the reasons for a man's incarceration. And that rumor mill was probably more accurate than the official tags. "Okay, but keep in mind that most of their convictions were after the plea bargaining stage of our justice system. What you see may not be what you get. And try to find some first timers without juvie jackets. They'll be a little easier to deal with. Especially if they haven't been here long." He shrugged. "After what Collins wanted, I hate to pull any of the prisoners out to work the prison, even if it was their job before the Quiver." "Is Collins going to be a problem forever?" Hulbert asked. "Probably," Andy answered. "There's always one. And I guess he's ours." He debated gulping the last few ounces of his coffee, while it was still hot, tasting like it should, or sipping it. Making it last as long as possible. In the end he sipped. "He was transferred here from upstate.

  Aproblem child. Not enough to get him fired, but close to it." Terry Collins was almost six and a half feet tall. Thin, athletic, and full of venom. Andy had seen his record. He had been in a half dozen confrontations with prisoners in the six months since he'd come to Alexander. Each time the prisoner had been the one to cross the line first, but experience had taught Andy that six was too many, in that period of time. Way too many. Collins had to be starting it. Or, at least, not defusing the situation. Defusing was what the guards weresupposed to do. Men were not locked up in maximum security prisons because they had a lot of self-control. They needed help keeping themselves out of trouble. And rumor had it Collins had trouble with that one, himself. The stories circulating about him and his ex-wife, if true, were evidence of it. The fact that the man was divorced wasn't unusual. But rumor had it when his wife left she skipped state.

  She took the kids and ran. "It sounds like this Collins character would be an element in a lawless society. A dangerous element." Jenny looked at Hulbert and Joe sitting across the table from her and Andy.

  They both nodded. "We just have to be sure we're not lawless." Andy could feel another day, another headache, coming on. Hulbert grinned.

  "Oh, there's no danger of that. We've got a library full of legal books. We have nothing on agriculture, but we have lots of law."

  "Yeah, well, I'm not so sure that's the type of law we'll be needing."

  Joe had tried to make a joke out of it, but the truth in what he said made the comment hang in the air instead of blowing away with a smile or chuckle. Hulbert stared at his empty cup. "You're right. We're not ready for slick lawyers and loopholes and technicalities. We need strength. The people are scared. Hell, we're all scared. We either give the guards what they need, or they're going to look for someone who can." He nodded toward a small cluster of men sitting at a table in a corner of the cafeteria. Those were the men who had stood next to Collins at the last meeting. "Each time one of the cooks says we're out of something new, that little group grows. One can of vegetables at a time. And Collins knows it. He's just biding his time. Waiting on our first emergency." "I read once that no country is more than three missed meals from a revolution." Jenny shrugged. "I guess we're talking truths. And it doesn't hurt to say out loud what everyone else is thinking." Hulbert reached across the table and patted her hand, then smiled at Andy. "Okay, we won't let them miss any meals." "How?" all three of them asked at the same time. "We already have exploratory expeditions going. They're doing the day-trips, gathering everything they find that might or might not be edible. Let me lead a few hunting parties that don't have to be back by nightfall. Give me three men, unlimited access to the armory and make my time my own. I've talked to the scouting parties. There is plenty of wild game out there. In a week's time, two at the most, I should be able to get us enough meat to run a month or so. After that I can keep us stocked through the winter." "Meat's not enough," Jenny said. "We need grains and vegetables. We've had a few people outside the walls looking, but they aren't bringing in enough. The last trip didn't net a bushel basket full." "I know, Jenny. I was there when they came in last night." He drummed his fingers on the table, looking at Collins' men. "I've spent two-thirds my adult life playing the weekend survivalist. I guess all those years of learning what's edible and what's not is about to pay off." His face lost all signs of emotion. "Let me get the protein, then I'll take a handful of people on foraging parties. From what little I saw while outside the walls, I think I could teach a small group of a dozen or so people to find tubers and other edible plants.

  They wouldn't have to go far. It could be done with the same type of day trips we're doing now. I didn't recognize too many of the plants, but I did recognize a few general types. And they were high in carbs, vitamin A and E. I also saw a couple that should give us our calcium and plenty of C." She nodded. "Okay. That's good. But there is something else, and I hate to say it, but I'm going to. You guys have been great. But…" Jenny wasn't the type to be lost for words.

  "Just say it," Andy said. "I don't think the four of us can worry about what's politically correct. At least not for right now."

  "Actually, that's the problem. We do have to worry about it. And we have to worry about it now. Not later. Rod wants to take threemen with him. Not three experienced hunters. We can't fall into that trap. When the work gets divided up into men's work and women's work, we lose. We have to keep things focused on experience and who's good at w
hat.

  Gender and color has to stay out of it. Otherwise we're dead in the water. When the hunters come back, if a woman provided part of the food, women retain their value." She wasn't pleading, but her voice had an edge. "People respect strength and brains. But if women aren't given a chance to show off the things they know and the strength of character they have, then they lose it. We all lose when women become pets to be cared for. And later, to be kicked." Hulbert shrugged.

  "Okay, you're probably right. I know quite a few guys I wouldn't trust not to mistake me for a buck, even if I was wearing hunter orange, which I won't be. But no tokens. That's almost as bad as not allowing a minority to participate. Stories about screw-ups get around even faster than those about successes. And they're never forgotten. If there's a woman on grounds whowants to go, and has the experience, real experience, I'll take her." Jenny grinned. "That's not a problem.

  Her name is Marie Keehn. She's no token. She's a fisherperson and hunter from way back. Took her first bear up in Canada when she was fifteen. She showed me a picture of it. She also told a story. A little tacky for mixed company, but what the hell." Jenny dropped her voice and leaned closer to the men. "Marie and her family were up in Canada, hunting. They hadn't been able to find anything their entire trip and it was their last day. She had started her period that morning and her father's rules were, if she was bleeding, she couldn't hunt. The smell, which humans wouldn't even notice, would attract any wild animals in the area. Well, she was young. So, she decided not to tell anyone. She went to her bear stand; her brothers went to theirs.