"God! Won't they hurry up? I've got a wife and kid. And we can't even sleep, it's so cold."

Yes, thought Gilchrist, that would be another angle. Weariness to eat away strength and hope ... radiation would work fast on people in a depressed state.

"They could at least give us a heater in here!" exclaimed Danton. His tone was raw. Shadows muffled his face and body.

"All the juice we can spare is going to the food and air plants. No use being warm if you starve or suffocate," said Catherine.

"I know, I know. But—Well, why aren't we getting more light? There ought to be enough current to heat the plants and still furnish a decent glow in here."

"Something else—" Gilchrist hesitated. "Something else is operating, then, and sucking a lot of power. I don't know what."

"They say the pile itself is as hot as ever. Why can't we run a pipe directly from it?"

"And get a mess of fast neutrons?" Catherine's voice died. After all ... they were being irradiated as they stood here and trembled.

"We've got batteries!" It was almost a snarl from Danton's throat. "Batteries enough to keep us going comfortably for days. Why not use them?"

"And suppose the trouble hasn't been fixed by the time they're drained?" challenged Gilchrist.

"Don't say that!"

"Take it easy," advised another man.

Danton bit his lip and faced away, mumbling to himself.

A baby began to cry. There seemed no way of quieting it.

"Turn that bloody brat off!" The tone came saw-toothed from somewhere in the pack.

"Shut up!" A woman's voice, close to hysteria.

Gilchrist realized that his teeth were rattling. He forced them to stop. The air was foul in his nostrils.

He thought of beaches under a flooding sun, of summer meadows and a long sweaty walk down dusty roads, he thought of birds and blue sky. But it was no good. None of it was real.

 Prev. P 15/20 next