Chapter 12. _Decontamination_
By late November some drifts of snow on the flats were 3 feet deep. Thetemperature dropped regularly to ten or more below zero at night andseldom went above freezing in the daytime. The level of the log pile inthe woodyard dropped steadily in spite of the concentrated efforts ofnearly every available able-bodied man in the community to add to it.Crews cut all night long by the light of gasoline lanterns. The fuelration had to be lowered to meet their rate of cutting.
The deep snow hampered Mayor Hilliard's plan to sled the logs downhillwithout use of teams. Criticisms and grumblings at his decision tosacrifice the horses grew swiftly.
There had been no more signs of anthrax, and some were saying the wholeprogram of vaccination and slaughter had been a stupid mistake. In spiteof the assurance of the veterinarians that it was the only thing thatcould have been done, the grumbling went on like a rolling wave as theseverity of the winter increased.
The Council was finally forced to issue a conservation order requiringfamilies to double up, two to a house, on the theory that it would bemore efficient to heat one house than parts of two. Selection of familypairings was optional. Close friends and relatives moved togetherwherever possible. Where no selection was made the committee assignedfamilies to live together.
As soon as the order was issued, Ken's mother suggested they invite theLarsens to move in with them. The Swedish family was happy to accept.
Thanksgiving, when it came, was observed in spirit, but scarcely infact. There were some suggestions that Mayor Hilliard should orderspecial rations for that day and for Christmas, at least, but he stuckto his ironhard determination that every speck of food would bestretched to the limit. No special allowance would be made forThanksgiving or any other occasion until the danger was over.
Ken and his father and their friends had done their share of criticizingthe Mayor in the past, but they now had only increasing admiration forhis determination to take a stand for the principles he knew to beright, no matter how stern. Previously, most of the townspeople hadconsidered him very good at giving highly patriotic Fourth of Julyspeeches, and not much good at anything else. Now, Ken realized, thebombastic little man seemed to have come alive, fully and miraculouslyalive.
* * * * *
The day after Thanksgiving Ken and Professor Maddox were greeted by Mrs.Maddox upon coming home. "Maria wants you to come to the radio shackright away," she said. "There's something important coming in fromBerkeley."
They hurried to the shack, and Maria looked up in relief as theyentered. "I'm so glad you're here!" she cried. "Dr. French is on theradio personally. I've been recording him, but he wants to talk to you.He's breaking in every 10 minutes to give me a chance to let him know ifyou're here. It's almost time, now."
Ken and his father caught a fragment of a sentence spoken by theBerkeley scientist, and then the operator came on. "Berkeley requestingacknowledgment, Mayfield."
Ken picked up the microphone and answered. "This is Mayfield, Ken Maddoxtalking. My father is here and will speak with Dr. French."
Professor Maddox sat down at the desk. "This is Professor Maddox," hesaid. "I came in time to hear your last sentence, Dr. French. They tellme you have something important to discuss. Please go ahead."
Ken switched over to receive, and in a moment the calm, persuasive voiceof Dr. French was heard in the speaker. "I'm glad you came in, Dr.Maddox," he said. "On the tape you have my report of some experiments wehave run the last few days. They are not finished, and if circumstanceswere normal I would certainly not report a piece of work in this stage.
"I feel optimistic, however, that we are on the verge of a substantialbreakthrough in regard to the precipitant we are looking for. I wouldlike you to repeat the work I have reported and go on from there, usingyour own ideas. I wanted you to have it, along with the people inPasadena, in case anything should happen here. In my opinion it could beonly a matter of days until we have a solution."
"I certainly hope you are right," said Professor Maddox. "Why do youspeak of the possibility of something happening. Is there trouble?"
"Yes. Rioting has broken out repeatedly in the entire Bay Area duringthe past 3 days. Food supplies are almost non-existent. At theuniversity here, those of us remaining have our families housed inclassrooms. We have some small stock of food, but it's not enough for anindefinite stay. The rioting may sweep over us. The lack of food maydrive us out before we can finish. You are in a better position therefor survival purposes. I hope nothing happens to interrupt your work.
"Our local government is crumbling fast. They have attempted to supplythe community with seafood, but there are not enough sailing vessels.Perhaps two-thirds of the population have migrated. Some have returned.Thousands have died. I feel our time is limited. Give my report yourcareful attention and let me know your opinion tomorrow."
They broke contact, uneasiness filling the hearts of Dr. French'slisteners in Mayfield. Up to now, the Berkeley scientist had seemedimpassive and utterly objective. Now, to hear him speak of his ownpersonal disaster, induced in them some of his own premonition ofcollapse.
When Maria had typed the report Professor Maddox stayed up until theearly-morning hours, studying it, developing equations, and makingcalculations of his own. Ken stayed with him, trying to follow theabstruse work, and follow his father's too-brief explanations.
When he finished, Professor Maddox was enthusiastic. "I believe he's onthe right track," he said. "Unfortunately, he hasn't told all he knowsin this report. He must have been too excited about the work.Ordinarily, he leaves nothing out, but he's omitted three or fourimportant steps near the end. I'll have to ask him to fill them inbefore we can do very much with his processes."
The report was read and discussed at the college laboratory the nextday, and the scientists began preliminary work to duplicate Dr. French'sresults. Ken and his father hurried home early in order to meet theafternoon schedule with Berkeley and get Dr. French to the microphone toanswer the questions he had neglected to consider.
As they arrived at the radio shack and opened the door they found Mariainside, with her head upon the desk. Deep sobs shook her body. Thereceiver was on, but only the crackle of static came from it. Thefilaments of the transmitter tubes were lit, but the antenna switch wasopen. The tape recorder was still running.
Professor Maddox grasped Maria by the shoulders and drew her back in thechair. "What is the matter?" he exclaimed. "Why are you crying, Maria?"
"It's all over," she said. "There's nothing more down there. Justnothing..."
"What do you mean?" Ken cried.
"It's on the tape. You can hear it for yourself."
Ken quickly reversed the tape and turned it to play. In a moment thefamiliar voice of their Berkeley friend was heard. "I'm glad you'reearly," it said. "There isn't much time today. The thing Dr. Frenchfeared has happened.
"Half the Bay Area is in flames. On the campus here, the administrationbuilding is gone. They tried to blow up the science building. It'sburning pretty fast in the other wing. I'm on the third floor. Did Iever tell you I moved my stuff over here to be close to the lab?
"There must be a mob of a hundred thousand out there in the streets. Orrather, several hundred mobs that add up to that many. None of them knowwhere they're going. It's like a monster with a thousand separate headscut loose to thrash about before it dies. I see groups of fifty or ahundred running through the streets burning and smashing things.Sometimes they meet another group coming from the opposite direction.Then they fight until the majority of one group is dead, and the othershave run away.
"The scientists were having a meeting here until an hour ago. Theygathered what papers and notes they could and agreed that each would tryto make his own way, with his family, out of the city. They agreed totry to meet in Salinas 6 weeks from now, if possible. I don't think anyof them will ever meet again."
A sudden tenseness surged into the operator's voice. "I can see
him downthere!" he cried in despair. "Dr. French--he's running across the campuswith a load of books and a case of his papers and they're trying to gethim. He's on the brow of a little hill and the mob is down below.They're laughing at him and shooting. They almost look like collegestudents. He's down--they got him."
A choking sob caught the operator's voice. "That's all there is," hesaid. "I hope you can do something with the information Dr. French gaveyou yesterday. Berkeley is finished. I'm going to try to get out of heremyself now. I don't think I stand much of a chance. The mobs areswarming all over the campus. I can hear the fire on the other side ofthe building. Maybe I won't even make it outside. Tell the Professor andKen so long. I sure wish I could have made it to Mayfield to see whatgoes with that Swedish accent. 73 YL."
* * * * *
After dinner, Professor Maddox announced his intention of going back tothe laboratory. Mrs. Maddox protested vigorously.
"I couldn't sleep even if I went to bed," he said, "thinking aboutwhat's happened today in Berkeley."
"What if a thing like that happened here?" Mrs. Larsen asked withconcern. "_Could_ it?"
"We're in a much better position than the metropolitan areas," saidProfessor Maddox. "I think we'll manage if we can keep our people fromgetting panicky. It's easier, too, because there aren't so many of us."
Professor Larsen went back to the laboratory with the Maddoxes.Throughout the night they reviewed the work of Dr. French. To Ken itseemed that they were using material out of the past, since all of thoseresponsible for it were probably dead.
"We'll have to fill in these missing steps," said Professor Maddox. "Weknow what he started with and we know the end results at which he wasaiming. I think we can fill the gaps."
"I agree," said Professor Larsen. "I think we should not neglect topass this to our people in Stockholm. You will see that is done?" heasked Ken.
"Our next schedule in that area is day after tomorrow. Or I could get itto them on the emergency watch tomorrow afternoon."
"Use emergency measures. I think it is of utmost importance that theyhave this quickly."
* * * * *
As the days passed, strangers were appearing more and more frequently inMayfield. Ken saw them on the streets as he went to the warehouse forhis family's food ration. He did not know everyone who lived in thevalley, of course, but he was sure some of the people he was meeting nowwere total strangers, and there seemed so many of them.
He had heard stories of how some of them had come, one by one, or insmall groups of a family or two. They had made their way from cities tothe north or the south, along the highway that passed through thevalley. They had come in rags, half-starved, out of the blizzards to theunexpected sanctuary of a town that still retained a vestige ofcivilization.
Unexpectedly, Ken found this very subject was being discussed in theration lines when he reached the warehouse. People had in their handscopies of the twice-weekly mimeographed newssheet put out by theCouncil. Across the top in capital letters was the word: PROCLAMATION.
Ken borrowed a sheet and read, "According to the latest count we've madethrough the ration roll, there are now present in Mayfield almost threethousand people who are refugees from other areas and have come in sincethe beginning of the disaster.
"As great as our humanitarian feelings are, and although we should liketo be able to relieve the suffering of the whole world, if it were inour power to do so, it is obviously impossible. Our food supplies are atmere subsistence level now. Before next season's crops are in, it may benecessary to reduce them still further.
"In view of this fact, the Mayor and the City Council have determined toissue a proclamation as of this date that every citizen of Mayfield willbe registered and numbered and no rations will be issued except byproper identification and number. It is hereby ordered that no onehereafter shall permit the entrance of any stranger who was not aresident of Mayfield prior to this date.
"A barbed-wire inclosure is to be constructed around the entireresidential and business district, and armed guards will be postedagainst all refugees who may attempt to enter. Crews will be assigned tothe erection of the fence, and guard duty will be rotated among the malecitizens."
Ken passed the sheet back to his neighbor. His mind felt numb as hethought of some of those he had seen shuffling through the deep snow intown. He knew now how he had known they were strangers. Their pinched,haunted faces showed the evidence of more privation and hardship thanany in Mayfield had yet known. These were the ones who would be turnedaway from now on.
Ken heard the angry buzz of comments all around him. "Should have doneit long ago," a plump woman somewhere behind him was saying. "What righthave they got to come in and eat our food?"
A man at the head of the line was saying, "They ought to round them allup and make them move on. Three thousand--that would keep the peoplewho've got a right here going a long time."
Someone else, not quite so angry, said, "They're people just like us.You know what the Bible says about that. We ought to share as long as wecan."
"Yeah, and pretty soon there won't be anything for anybody to share!"
"That may be true, but it's what we're supposed to do. It's what we've_got_ to do if we're going to stay human. I'll take anybody into myhouse who knocks on my door."
"When you see your kids crying for food you can't give them you'llchange your tune!"
Just ahead of him in line Ken saw a small, silent woman who looked aboutwith darting glances of fear. She was trembling with fright as much aswith the cold that penetrated her thin, ragged, cloth coat.
She was one of them, Ken thought. She was one who had come from theoutside. He wondered which of the loud-mouthed ones beside him would bewilling to be the first to take her beyond the bounds of Mayfield andforce her to move on.
* * * * *
That night, at dinner, he spoke of it to his parents and the Larsens.
"It's a problem that has to be faced," said Professor Maddox, "andHilliard is choosing the solution he thinks is right. He's no moreheartless than Dr. Aylesworth, for example."
"It seems a horrible thing," said Mrs. Larsen. "What will happen tothose who are turned away?"
"They will die," said Dr. Larsen. "They will go away and wander in thesnow until they die."
"Why should we have any more right to live than they?" asked Mrs.Maddox. "How can we go on eating and being comfortable while they areout there?"
"_They_ are out there in the whole world," said Dr. Larsen as ifmeditating. "There must be thirty million who have died in the UnitedStates alone since this began. Another hundred million will die thiswinter. The proportion will be the same in the rest of the world. Shouldwe be thankful for our preservation so far, or should we voluntarilyjoin them in death?"
"This is different," said Mrs. Maddox. "It's those who come and beg forour help who will be on our consciences if we do this thing."
"The whole world would come if it knew we had stores of food here--if itcould come. As brutal as it is, the Mayor has taken the only feasiblecourse open to him."
Ken and Maria remained silent, both feeling the horror of the proposaland its inevitability.
In the following days Ken was especially glad to be able to bury himselfin the problems at the laboratory. His father, too, seemed to work withincreasing fury as they got further into an investigation of thematerial originated by Dr. French. As if seized by some fanaticcompulsion, unable to stop, Professor Maddox spent from 18 to 20 hoursof every day at his desk and laboratory bench.
Ken stayed with him although he could not match his father's greatenergy. He often caught snatches of sleep while his father worked on.Then, one morning, as an especially long series of complex tests came toan end at 3 a.m., he said to Ken in quiet exultation, "We candecontaminate now, if nothing else. That's the thing that French hadfound. Whether we can ever put it into the atmosphere is another matter,but at least we c
an get our metals clean."
Excited, Ken leaned over the notebook while his father described theresults of the reaction. He studied the photographs, taken with theelectron microscope, of a piece of steel before and after treatment witha compound developed by his father.
Ken said slowly, in a voice full of emotion. "French didn't do this,Dad."
"Most of it. I finished it up from where he left off."
"No. He wasn't even on the same track. You've gone in an entirelydifferent direction from the one his research led to. _You_ are the onewho has developed a means of cleaning the dust out of metals."
Professor Maddox looked away. "You give me too much credit, Son."
Ken continued to look at his father, at the thick notebook whosescrawled symbols told the story. So this is the way it happens, hethought. You don't set out to be a great scientist at all. If you canput all other things out of your mind, if you can be absorbed with yourwhole mind and soul in a problem that seems important enough, eventhough the world is collapsing about your head; then, if you are cleverenough and persevering enough, you may find yourself a great scientistwithout ever having tried.
"I don't think I'll ever be what the world calls a great scientist,"Professor Maddox had said on that day that seemed so long ago. "I'm notclever enough; I don't think fast enough. I can teach the fundamentalsof chemistry, and maybe some of those I teach will be great someday."
So he had gone along, Ken thought, and by applying his own rules he hadachieved greatness. "I think you give me far too much credit, Son," hesaid in a tired voice.