Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank

Author:Pat Frank [Frank, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: General, Fiction, Science fiction, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Classics, Survival skills, Florida, Literature: Classics, 20th Century American Novel And Short Story, Nuclear warfare
ISBN: 9780060741877
Publisher: PERENNIAL
Published: 2005-06-22T08:00:00+00:00

Randy walked to the house, wondering a bit about himself. Without being conscious of it, he had begun to give orders in the past few days. Even to the Admiral he had given orders. He had assumed leadership in the tiny community bound together by the water pipes leading from the artesian well. Since no one had seemed to resent it, he guessed it had been the proper thing to do. It was like-well, it wasn't the same, but it was something like commanding a platoon. When you had the responsibility you also had the right to command.

The McGovern house was damp and it was chilly. It retained the cold of night. Lib, wearing corduroy jodhpurs and a heavy blue turtleneck sweater, greeted him at the door. She said, "I heard the jalopy and I knew it was you. Thanks for coming, Randy."

She held out her hands to him and he kissed her. Her hands felt cold and when he looked down at them he saw that her fingernails, always so carefully kept, were broken and crusted with dirt. Still she was dry-eyed and calm. Whatever tears she had had for her mother were already shed. Randy said, "Alice told us. We're all terribly sorry, darling." He knew it sounded insincere, and it was. With so many dead-so many friends for whom he had as yet not had time even for thought-the death of one woman, whom he did not admire overmuch and with whom he had never been and could not be close, was a triviality. With perhaps half the country's population dead, death itself, unless it took someone close and dear, was trivial.

She said, "Come on in and talk to Dad. He's worried about how we're going to bury her."

"We're arranging that," Randy said, and followed her into the house.

Bill McGovern sat in the living room, staring out on the river. He had not bothered to dress, or shave. Over his pajamas and robe he had pulled a topcoat. Randy turned to Lib. "Have either of you had any breakfast?"

She shook her head, no.

Bill spoke without turning his head. "Hello, Randy. I'm not much of a success, am I, in time of crisis? I can't feed my daughter, or myself, or even bury my wife. I wish I had enough guts to swim out into the channel and sink."

"That can't help Lavinia and wouldn't help Elizabeth, or anybody. You and Lib are going to live with me. Things will be better."

"Randy, I'm not going to impose myself on you. I might as well face it. I'm finished. You know, I'm over sixty. And do you know what the worst thing is> Central Tool and Plate. I spent my whole life building it up. What is it now? Chances are, just a mess of twisted and burned metal. Junk. So there goes my life and what good am I? I can't start over. Central Tool and Plate is junk and I'm junk."

Randy stepped over and stood between Bill and the cracked window, so as to look into his face.

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