Edward Llewellyn - Prelude to Chaos

The spreading social disintegration was the result of desperation and despair from people who could now see the darkness ahead. Settlements were only one of the targets for popular anger. Most minority groups everywhere were being assaulted. Racism and sexism were returning in their worst forms. But those Settlements within reach of the cities were special targets. They were definable, localized minorities who had acted like moral elites for years. And they had something the majority of outsiders wanted.

Governments used Settlements to divert popular anger from themselves. And the destruction of vulnerable Settlements made useful examples of what happens to “troublemakers, revolutionary groups, un-American activists, fascists, and plain traitors.”

“There’s Jona’s Point,” said Barbara. “Away on the port bow.” She stood at the wheel of Sea Eagle, handling her Cape Islander with the skill and confidence of a veteran fisherman. “Anything on the fuzzmeter?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Not even the old radiobeacons. All bands silent.”

“Is it safe to go any closer?” Judith picked up the binoculars and studied the smudge on the horizon.

“It’s safe enough. I’ve run to within five clicks of the Point and nothing happened. According to those people in Clarport nobody stays there overnight now.”

“Captain Rideout didn’t say that!” I objected. “He just said that the warehouses at Clarport are filled with containers waiting to go aboard the John Howard .”

Barbara shrugged and didn’t answer. Judith continued to study Jona’s Point through the binoculars. I moved to the rear of the wheelhouse, moodily wondering why I had come on this expedition with these two females. They had decided to take a look at the Pen after the Skipper of Ranula had told them that it was being used as a supply dump. I had been less than enthusiastic about seeing our old home, but Judith had insisted I join Barbara and herself in a voyage up the Bay. It was probably part of some wild plan to save the Settlement.

If it was I wasn’t privy to it, nor to any of the other schemes the Council was debating. I had given them my opinion; that the Cove was indenfensible against any organized attack. Their only rational course was to evacuate to some remote place like Fairhaven while they could.

But rationality was not the Council’s forte when religion was involved, and some members were arguing that this was another of those rigorous tests the Light inflicted on Believers. I had told Judith plainly that, when the time came, we must get out before the Settlement went under. She had insisted she would stay to the end. I hadn’t argued further. When I went, she’d go with me, unconscious if necessary. My wife wasn’t going to be grabbed by the Feds.

The fuzzmeter beeped and I looked at the radar display. “Something’s leaving the Point.”

“That’ll be the Howard. She’s finished unloading and is heading back to Clarport.” Barbara glanced at the bulkhead clock. “And she’s on time.”

“You knew she’d be leaving the Pen this afternoon?”

“Sure. Unless there was fog or bad weather. We’ve all watched her heading north on Tuesdays and south on Thursdays.”

“You didn’t warn us we might meet the Howard!' I protested.

“I’ll stand offshore while she passes.” Barbara spun the wheel. “Her skipper’s used to seeing us fishing around here.”

I watched the blip on the radar screen, then studied the supply ship through binoculars. There was no minicopter on her poop now. Her siren gave a short blast and we acknowledged with a blast from our own. The old maritime acts of courtesy still functioned when all other civilized gestures were disappearing.

“She’s making thirty knots,” remarked Barbara, as we watched her race by. “She’ll reach Clarport in six hours. Ranula takes over twenty to get there from the Cove. Why didn’t those shortsighted oldsters on Council spend more and buy us a decent ship? We’ve got the capital.”

“The Ranula ’s old, but she’s basic. You’ll be able to keep her seaworthy for another hundred years—if you have the chance.”

Barbara ignored me. Our relationship, which should have been improved by our moments of tenderness and terror in the Brinks, had actually worsened. She altered course again to head directly for Jona’s Point.

The Pen rose out of the summer haze. “Barb,” said Judith, with a trace of alarm. “The seas around the Point used to be deadly!”

“They’re safe enough now. The Howard docks there every week. And she doesn’t carry any special mine-detectiom gear.” “How do you know that?” I demanded.

“Midge spent a night with her Skipper. While she was working in the hash house at Clarport.”

“Midge—working in Clarport?” I stared at her.

“She took a job as a waitress and slept around among the truck drivers bringing loads to Clarport for shipping to the Pen. The oldsters—most of ’em, not Dad—thought they could ignore what was happening outside.” She glanced at me as though I was one of them. “We knew we couldn’tl We needed information. And you have to pay for information.” “How the hell could Midge get away from the Cove for a week?”

“Fishing for hake,” said Barbara, her eyes on the compass, a slight smile on her lips. “We’re always away for up to a week when we’re after hake. Every fisherman knows that!”

To be called ignorant of fishing was an insult in the Cove. I wasn’t a fisherman, but the gibe stung. “I suppose the ‘we’ are your gang of arrogant young brats?”

“Cool it! Both of you!” snapped Judith. “You’re behaving like spoiled children! Barbara, you shouldn’t have told Gavin about Midge! If he tells her father—”

“I’m no stoolie!” I snarled. “Midge’s secret is safe with me. And Barbara’s too—if she’s been making similar purchases!” Barbara went scarlet, the first time I had ever seen her blush, and I deduced she had.

“Gavin—you can be a real bastard!” said Judith.

“She started it!” I protested. “Oh hell! Did we come all this way just to fight! What are we here for anyway?”

“Keep looking ahead,” said Judith wearily.

I seized the binoculars and glared through them at the Pen. It was taking shape as we closed on the Point; the menacing silhouette I had last seen during our escape. I forgot my anger as I began to identify the changes. Through binoculars I could see the effects of weather and lack of care. The Yagis and the parabolic reflectors high on the antenna tower were askew from loose clamps and the winds of two winters. They drooped like weary arms or stared at empty seas. Not a single radio channel among them could be operational.

“Have you ever been to San Francisco?” asked Barbara, in a tone that suggested truce.

“Yes. Ten years ago. Why?”

“I went there once with my grandmother and my sister. There’s an island in the harbor with a museum. Used to be a prison. Place called Alcatraz. Heard of it?”

“Sure—closed down back in the sixties.”

“It was abandoned. In the seventies a group of Amerinds walked in and took it over. Some political row. The cops had a job getting them out.”

“I didn’t know that.” I paused. “Barbara, have you got some crazy idea about grabbing the Pen?”

“It may be crazy. But not as crazy as staying where we are until we’re stomped. I’ve heard you trying to warn Council that the Cove is a trap if things get tough. You suggested Fair haven to them.” She shrugged. “None of us fancy a future in Fairhaven!”

“It’s isolated enough not to attract attention.”