FOREWORD

	My next attempt to branch out was my first book:
ROCKET SHIP GALILEO. 1 attempted book publication earlier than I had intended to because a boys book was solicited from me by a major publisher. I was unsure of myselfbut two highly respected friends, Cleve Cartmill and Fritz Lang, urged me to try it. So I did. . . and the publisher who had asked for it rejected it. A trip to the Moon? Preposterous! He suggested that I submit another book-length MS without that silly space-travel angle.
	Instead I sold it to Scribners and thereby started a sequence: one boys book each yeartimed for the Christmas trade. This lasted twelve years and was a very strange relationship, as my editor disliked science fiction, disliked me (a sentiment I learned to reciprocate), and kept me on for the sole reason that my books sold so well that they kept her department out of the redher words. Eventually she bounced one with the suggestion that I shelve it for a year and then rewrite it.
	But by bouncing it she broke the chain of options. Instead of shelving it, I took it across the street. . . and won a Hugo with it.
	ROCKET SHIP GALILEO was a fumbling first attempt; I have never been satisfied with it. But it has never been out of print, has appeared in fourteen languages, and has earned a preposterous amount in book royalties alone; I should not kick. Nevertheless I cringe whenever I consider its shortcomings.
	My next fiction (here following) was FREE MEN. Offhand it appears to be a routine post-Holocaust story, and the detailsidioms, place names, etc.justify that assumption. In fact it is any conquered nation in any century
FREE MEN


	That makes three provisional presidents so far, the Leader said. I wonder how many more there are? He handed the flimsy sheet back to the runner, who placed it in his mouth and chewed it up like gum.
	The third man shrugged. No telling. What worries me A mockingbird interrupted. Doity, doity, doity, he sang. Terloo, terloo, terloo, purty-purtypurty-purty.
	The clearing was suddenly empty.
	As I was saying, came the voice of the third man in a whisper in the Leaders ear, it aint how many worries me, but how you tell a de Gaulle from a Laval. See anything?
	Convoy. Stopped below us. The Leader peered through bushes and down the side of a bluff. The high ground pushed out toward the river here, squeezing the river road between it and the water. The road stretched away to the left, where the valley widened out into farmland, and ran into the outskirts of Barclay ten miles away.
	The convoy was directly below them, eight trucks preceded and followed by halftracks. The following halftrack was backing, vortex gun cast loose and ready for trouble. Its commander apparently wanted elbow room against a possible trap.
	At the second truck helmeted figures gathered
around its rear end, which was jacked up. As the Leader watched he saw one wheel temoved.
	Trouble?
	I think not. Just a breakdown. Theyll be gone soon. He wondered what was in the trucks. Food, probably. His mouth watered. A few weeks ago an opportunity like this would have meant generous rations for all, but the conquerors had smartened up.
	He put useless thoughts away. Its not that that worries me, Dad, he added, returning to the subject. Well be able to tell quislings from loyal Americans. But how do you tell men from boys?
	Thinking of Joe Benz?
	Maybe. Id give a lot to know how far we can trust Joe. But I could have been thinking of young Morrie.
	You can trust him.
	Certainly. At thirteen he doesnt drinkand he wouldnt crack if they burned his feet off. Same with Cathleen. Its not age or sexbut how can you tell? And youve got to be able to tell.
	There was a flurry below. Guards had slipped down from the trucks and withdrawn from the road when the convoy had stopped, in accordance with an orderly plan for such emergencies. Now two of them returned to the convoy, hustling between them a figure not in uniform.
	The mockingbird set up a frenetic whistling.
	Its the messenger, said the Leader. The dumb fool! Why didnt he lie quiet? Tell Ted weve seen it.
	Dad pursed his lips and whistled: Keewah, keewah, keewah, terloo.
	The other mockingbird answered, Terloo, and shut up.
	Well need a new post office now, said the Leader. Take care of it, Dad.
	Okay.
	Theres no real answer to the problem, the Leader said. You can limit size of units, so that one person cant give away too manybut take a colony like ours.
It needs to be a dozen or more to work. That means they all have to be dependable, or they all go down together. So each one has a loaded gun at the head of each other one.
	Dad grinned, wryly. Sounds like the United Nations before the Blow Off. Cheer up, Ed. Dont burn your bridges before you cross them.
	I wont. The convoy is ready to roll.
	When the convoy had disappeared in the distance, Ed Morgan, the Leader, and his deputy Dad Carter stood up and stretched. The mockingbird had announced safety loudly and cheerfully. Tell Ted to cover us into camp, Morgan ordered.
	Dad wheepled and chirruped and received acknowledgement. They started back into the hills. Their route was roundabout and included check points from which they could study their back track and receive reports from Ted. Morgan was not worried about Ted being followedhe was confident that Ted could steal baby possums from mamas pouch. But the convoy breakdown might have been a trapthere was no way to tell that all of the soldiers had got back into the trucks. The messenger might have been followed; certainly he had been trapped too easily.
	Morgan wondered how much the messenger would spill. He could not spill much about Morgans own people, for the post office rendezvous was all that he knew about them.

	The base of Morgans group was neither better nor worse than average of the several thousand other camps of recalcitrant guerrillas throughout the area that once called itself the United States. The Twenty Minute War had not surprised everyone. The mushrooms which had blossomed over Washington, Detroit, and a score of other places had been shocking but expectedby some.
	Morgan had made no grand preparations. He had simply conceived it as a good period in which to stay
footloose and not too close to a talget area. He had taken squatters rights in an abandoned mine and had stocked it with tools, food, and other useful items. He had had the simple intention to survive; it was during the weeks after Final Sunday that he discovered that there was no way for a man with foresight to avoid becoming a leader.
	Morgan and Dad Carter entered the mine by a new shaft and tunnel which appeared on no map, by a dry rock route which was intended to puzzle even a bloodhound. They crawled through the tunnel, were able to raise their heads when they reached the armory, and stepped out into the common room of the colony, the largest chamber, ten by thirty feet and as high as it was wide.
	Their advent surprised no one, else they might not have lived to enter. A microphone concealed in the tunnel had conveyed their shibboleths before them. The room was unoccupied save for a young woman stirring something over a tiny, hooded fire and a girl who sat at a typewriter table mounted in front of a radio. She was wearing earphones and shoved one back and turned to face them as they came in.
	Howdy, Boss!
	Hi, Margie. Whats the good word? Then to the other, Whats for lunch?
	Bark soup and a notch in your belt.
	Cathleen, you depress me.
	Well . . . mushrooms fried in rabbit fat, but darn few of them.
	Thats better.
	You better tell your boys to be more careful what they bring in. One more rabbit with tularemia and we wont have to worry about what to eat.
	Hard to avoid, Cathy. You must be sure you handle them the way Doc taught you. He turned to the girl. Jerry in the upper tunnel?
	Yes.
	Get him down here, will you?
	Yes, sir. She pulled a sheet out of her typewriter and handed it to him, along with others, then left the room.
	Morgan glanced over them. The enemy had abolished soap opera and singing commercials but he could not say that radio had been improved. There was an unnewsy sameness to the propaganda which now came over the air. He checked through while wishing for just one old-fashioned, uncensored newscast.
	Heres an item! he said suddenly. Get this, Dad
	Read it to me, Ed. Dads spectacles had been broken on Final Sunday. He could bring down a deer, or a man, at a thousand yardsbut he might never read again.
	New Center, 28 AprilIt is with deep regret that Continental Coordinating Authority for World Unification, North American District, announces that the former city of St. Joseph, Missouri, has been subjected to sanitary measures. It is ordered that a memorial plaque setting forth the circumstances be erected on the former site of St. Joseph as soon as radioactivity permits. Despite repeated warnings the former inhabitants of this lamented city encouraged and succored marauding bands of outlaws skulking around the outskirts of their community. It is hoped that the sad fate of St. Joseph will encourage the native authorities of all North American communities to take all necessary steps to suppress treasonable intercourse with the few remaining lawless elements in our continental soci
,	,,
ety.
	Dad cocked a brow at Morgan. How many does that make since they took over?
	Lets see. . . Salinas . . . Colorado Springs . . . uh, six, including St. Joe.
	Son, there werent more than sixty million Americans left after Final Sunday. If they keep up, well be kind of thinned out in a few years.
	I know. Morgan looked troubled. Weve got to work out ways to operate without calling attention to the towns. Too many hostages.
	A short, dark man dressed in dirty dungarees entered from a side tunnel, followed by Margie. You wanted me, boss?
	Yes, Jerry. I want to get word to McCracken to come in for a meeting. Two hours from now, if he can get here.
	Boss, youre using radio too much. Youll get him shot and us, too.
	I thought that business of bouncing it off the cliff face was foolproof?
	Well . . . a dodge I can work up, somebody else can figure out. Besides, Ive got the chassis unshipped. I was working on it.
	How long to rig it?
	Oh, half an hourtwenty minutes.
	Do it. This may be the last time well use radio, except as utter last resort.
	Okay, boss.

	The meeting was in the common room. Morgan called it to order once all were present or accounted for. McCracken arrived just as he had decided to proceed without him. McCracken had a pass for the countryside, being a veterinarian, and held proxy for the colonys underground associates in Barclay.
	The Barclay Free Company, a provisional unit of the United States of America, is now in session. Morgan announced formally. Does any member have any item to lay before the Company?
	He looked around; there was no response. How about you? he challenged Joe Benz. I heard that you had some things you thought the Company ought to hear.
	Benz started to speak, shook his head. Ill wait.
	Dont wait too long, Morgan said mildly. Well, I have two points to bring up for discussion
	Three, corrected Dr. McCracken. Im glad you sent for me. He stepped up to Morgan and handed him a large, much folded piece of paper. Morgan looked it over, refolded it, and put it in his pocket.
	It fits in, he said to McCracken. What do the folks in town say?
	They are waiting to hear from you. Theyll back you upso far, anyway.
	All right. Morgan turned back to the group. First itemwe got a message today, passed by hand and about three weeks old, setting up another provisional government. The courier was grabbed right under our noses. Maybe he was a stooge; maybe he was carelessthats neither here nor there at the moment. The message was that the Honorable Albert M. Brockman proclaimed himself provisional President of these United States, under derived authority, and appointed Brigadier General Dewey Fenton commander of armed forces including irregular militiameaning usand called on all citizens to unite to throw the Invader out. All formal and proper. So what do we do about it?
	And who the devil is the Honorable Albert M. Brockman? asked someone in the rear.
	Ive been trying to remember. The message listed government jobs hes held, including some assistant secretary jobI suppose thats the derived authority angle. But I cant place him.
	I recall him, Dr. McCracken said suddenly. I met him when I was in the Bureau of Animal Husbandry. A career civil servant. . . and a stuffed shirt.
	There was a gloomy silence. Ted spoke up. Then why bother with him?
	The Leader shook his head. Its not that simple, Ted. We cant assume that hes no good. Napoleon might have been a minor clerk under different circumstances. And the Honorable Mr. Brockman may be a revolutionary genius disguised as a bureaucrat. But thats not the point. We need nationwide unification
more than anything. It doesnt matter right now who the titular leader is. The theory of derived authority may be shaky but it may be the only way to get everybody to accept one leadership. Little bands like ours can never win back the country. Weve got to have unityand thats why we cant ignore Brockman.
	The thing that burns me, McCracken said savagely, is that it need never have happened at all! It could have been prevented.
	No use getting in a sweat about it, Morgan told him. Its easy to see the governments mistakes now, but just the same I think there was an honest effort to prevent war right up to the last. It takes all nations to keep the peace, but it only takes one to start a war.
	No, no, noI dont mean that, Captain, McCracken answered. I dont mean the War could have been prevented. I suppose it could have beenonce. But everybody knew that another war could happen, and everybodyeverybody, I say, knew that if it came, it would start with the blasting of American cities. Every congressman, every senator knew that a war would destroy Washington and leave the country with no government, flopping around like a chicken with its head off. They knewwhy didnt they do something!
	What could they do? Washington couldnt be protected.
	Do? Why, they could have made plans for their own deaths! They could have slapped through a constitutional amendment calling for an alternate president and alternate congressmen and made it illegal for the alternates to be in target areasor any scheme to provide for orderly succession in case of disaster. They could have set up secret and protected centers of government to use for storm cellars. They could have planned the same way a father takes out life insurance for his kids. Instead they went stumbling along, fat, dumb, and happy, and let themselves get killed, with no provision to carry out their sworn duties after they were dead. Theory of derived authority, pfui! Its not
just disastrous; its ridiculous! We used to be the greatest country in the worldnow look at us!
	Take it easy, Doc, Morgan suggested. Hindsight is easier than foresight.
	Hummm! I saw it coming. I quit my Washington job and took a country practice, five years ahead of time. Why couldnt a congressman be as bright as I am?
	Hmmm. . . wellyoure right. But we might just as well worry over the Dred Scott Decision. Lets get on with the problem. How about Brockman? Ideas?
	What do you propose, boss?
	Id rather have it come from the floor.
	Oh, quit scraping your foot, boss, urged Ted. We elected you to lead.
	Okay. I propose to send somebody to backtrack on the message and locate Brockmansmell him out and see what hes got. Ill consult with as many groups as we can reach in this state and across the river, and well try to manage unanimous action. I was thinking of sending Dad and Morrie.
	Cathleen shook her head. Even with faked registration cards and travel permits theyd be grabbed for the Reconstruction Battalions. Ill go.
	In a pigs eye, Morgan answered. Youd be grabbed for something a danged sight worse. Its got to be a man.
	I am afraid Cathleen is right, McCracken commented. They shipped twelve-year-old boys and old men who could hardly walk for the Detroit project. They dont care how soon the radiation gets themits a plan to thin us out.
	Are the cities still that bad?
	From what I hear, yes. Detroit is still hot and she was one of the first to get it.
	Im going to go. The voice was high and thin, and rarely heard in conference.
	Now, Mother said Dad Carter.
	You keep out of this, Dad. The men and young women would be grabbed, but they Wont bother with me. All I need is a paper saying I have a permit to rejoin my grandson, or something.
	McCracken nodded. I can supply that.
	Morgan paused, then said suddenly, Mrs. Carter will contact Brockman. It is so ordered. Next order of business, he went on briskly. Youve all seen the news about St. Joethis is what they posted in Barclay last night. He hauled out and held up the paper McCracken had given him. It was a printed notice, placing the City of Barclay on probation, subject to the ability of local authorities to suppress bands of roving criminals.
	There was a stir, but no comment. Most of them had lived in Barclay; all had ties there.
	I guess youre waiting for me, McCracken began. We held a meeting as soon as this was posted. We werent all thereits getting harder to cover up even the smallest gatheringbut there was no disagreement. Were behind you but we want you to go a little easy. We suggest that you cut out pulling raids within, oh, say twenty miles of Barclay, and that you stop all killing unless absolutely necessary to avoid capture. Its the killings they get excited aboutit was killing of the district director that touched off St. Joe.
	Benz sniffed. So we dont do anything. We just give upand stay here in the hills and starve.
	Let me finish, Benz. We dont propose to let them scare us out and keep us enslaved forever. But casual raids dont do them any real harm. Theyre mostly for food for the Underground and for minor retaliations. Weve got to conserve our strength and increase it and organize, until we can hit hard enough to make it stick. We wont let you starve. I can do more organizing among the farmers and some animals can be hidden out, unregistered. We can get you meatsome, anyhow. And well split our rations with you. Theyve got
us on 1800 calories now, but we can share it. Something can be done through the black market, too. There are ways.
	Benz made a contemptuous sound. Morgan looked at him.
	Speak up, Joe. Whats on your mind?
	I will. Its not a plan; its a disorderly retreat. A year from now well be twice as hungry and no further alongand theyll be better dug in and stronger. Where does it get us?
	Morgan shook his head. Youve got it wrong. Even if we hadnt had it forced on us, we would have been moving into this stage anyhow. The Free Companies have got to quit drawing attention to themselves. Once the food problem is solved weve got to build up our strength and weapons. Weve got to have organization and weaponsnationwide organization and guns, knives, and hand grenades. Weve got to turn this mine into a factory. There are people down in Barclay who can use the stuff we can make herebut we cant risk letting Barclay be blasted in the meantime. Easy does it.
	Ed Morgan, youre kidding yourself and you know it.
	How?
	How? Look, you sold me the idea of staying on the dodge and joining up
	You volunteered.
	Okay, I volunteered. It was all because you were so filled with fire and vinegar about how we would throw the enemy back into the ocean. You talked about France and Poland and how the Filipinos kept on fighting after they were occupied. You sold me a bill of goods. But there was something you didnt tell me
	Go on.
	There never was an Underground that freed its own country. All of them had to be pulled out of the soup by an invasion from outside. Nobody is going to pull us out.
	There was silence after this remark. The statement
had too much truth in it, but it was truth that no member of the Company could afford to think about. Young Morrie broke it. Captain?
	Yes, Morrie. Being a fighting man, Morrie was therefore a citizen and a voter.
	How can Joe be so sure he knows what hes talking about? History doesnt repeat. Anyhow, maybe we will get some help. England, maybe-or even the Russians.
	Benz snorted. Listen to the punk! Look, kid, England was smashed like we were, only worseand Russia, too. Grow up; quit daydreaming.
	The boy looked at him doggedly. You dont know that. We only know what they chose to tell us. And there arent enough of them to hold down the whole world, everybody, everywhere. We never managed to lick the Yaquis, or the Moros. And they cant lick us unless we let them. Ive read some history too.
	Benz shrugged. Okay, okay. Now we can all sing My Country Tis of Thee and recite the Scout oath. That ought to make Morrie happy
	Take it easy, Joe!
	We have free speech here, dont we? What I want to know is: How long does this go on? Im getting tired of competing with coyotes for the privilege of eating jackrabbits. You know Ive fought with the best of them. Ive gone on the raids. Well, havent I? Havent I? You cant call me yellow.
	Youve been on some raids, Morgan conceded.
	All right. Id go along indefinitely if I could see some sensible plan. Thats why I ask, How long does this go on? When do we move? Next spring? Next year?
	Morgan gestured impatiently. How do I know? It may be next spring; it may be ten years. The Poles waited three hundred years.
	That tears it, Benz said slowly. I was hoping you could offer some reasonable plan. Wait and arm ourselvesthats a pretty picture! Homemade hand grenades against atom bombs! Why dont you quit
kidding yourselves? Were licked! He hitched at his belt. The rest of you can do as you pleaseIm through.
	Morgan shrugged. If a man wont fight, I cant make him. Youre assigned noncombatant duties. Turn in your gun. Report to Cathleen.
	You dont get me, Ed. Im through.
	You dont get me, Joe. You dont resign from an Underground.
	Theres no risk. Ill leave quietly, and let myself be registered as a straggler. It doesnt mean anything to the rest of you. Ill keep my mouth shutthat goes without saying.
	Morgan took a long breath, then answered, Joe, Ive learned by bitter experience not to trust statements set off by naturally, of course, or that goes without saying.
	Oh, so you dont trust me?
	As Captain of this Company I cant afford to. Unless you can get the Company to recall me from office, my rulings stand. Youre under arrest. Hand over your gun.
	Benz glanced around, at blank, unfriendly faces. He reached for his waist, With your left hand, Joe!
	Instead of complying, Benz drew suddenly, backed away. Keep clear! he said shrilly. I dont want to hurt anybodybut keep clear!
	Morgan was unarmed. There might have been a knife or two in the assembly, but most of them had come directly from the dinner table. It was not their custom to be armed inside the mine.
	Young Morrie was armed with a rifle, having come from lookout duty. He did not have room to bring it into play, but Morgan could see that he intended to try. So could Benz.
	Stop it, Morrie! Morgan assumed obedience and turned instantly to the others. Let him go. Nobody move. Get going, Joe.
	Thats better. Benz backed down the main tunnel, toward the main entrance, weed and drift choked for
years. Its unused condition was their principal camouflage, but it could be negotiated.
	He backed away into the gloom, still covering them. The tunnel curved; shortly he was concealed by the bend.
	Dad Carter went scurrying in the other direction as soon as Benz no longer covered them. He reappeared at once, carrying something. Heads down! he shouted, as he passed through them and took out after Benz.
	Dad! shouted Morgan. But Carter was gone.
	Seconds later a concussion tore at their ears and noses.
	Morgan picked himself up and brushed at his clothes, saying in annoyed tones, I never did like explosives in cramped quarters. CleveArt. Go check on it. Move!
	Right, boss! They were gone.
	The rest of you get ready to carry out withdrawal planfull plan, with provisions and supplies. Jerry, dont disconnect either the receiver or theline-of-sight till I give the word. Margie will help you. Cathleen, get ready to serve anything that cant be carried. Well have one big meal. The condemned ate hearty.
	Just a moment, Captain. McCracken touched his sleeve. I had better get a message into Barclay.
	Soon as the boys report. You better get back into town.
	I wonder. Benz knows me. I think Im here to stay.
	Hm.. . well, you know best. How about your family?
	McCracken shrugged. They cant be worse off than they would be if Im picked up. Id like to have them warned and then arrangements made for them to rejoin me if possible.
	Well do it. Youll have to give me a new contact.
	Planned for. This message will go through and my number-two man will step into my shoes. The name is Hobartruns a feed store on Pelham Street.
	Morgan nodded. Should have known you had it
worked out. Well, what we dont know He was interrupted by Cleve, reporting.
	He got away, Boss.
	Why didnt you go after him?
	Half the roof came down when Dad chucked the grenade. Tunnels choked with rock. Found a place where I could see but couldnt crawl through. Hes not in the tunnel.
	How about Dad?
	Hes all right. Got clipped on the head with a splinter but not really hurt.
	Morgan stopped two of the women hurrying past, intent on preparations for withdrawal. HereJean, and you, Mrs. Bowen. Go take care of Dad Carter and tell Art to get back here fast. Shake a leg!
	When Art reported Morgan said, You and Cleve go out and find Benz. Assume that he is heading for Barclay. Stop him and bring him in if you can. Otherwise kill him. Art is in charge. Get going. He turned to McCracken. Now for a message. He fumbled in his pocket for paper, found the poster notice that McCracken had given him, tore off a piece, and started to write. He showed it to McCracken. Hows that? he asked.
	The message warned Hobart of Benz and asked him to try to head him off. It did not tell him that the Barclay Free Company was moving but did designate the post office through which next contact would be expectedthe mens rest room of the bus station.
	Better cut out the post office, McCracken advised. Hobart knows it and we may contact him half a dozen other ways. But Id like to ask him to get my family out of sight. Just tell him that we are sorry to hear that Aunt Dinah is dead.
	Is that enough?
	Yes.
	Okay. Morgan made the changes, then called, Margie! Put this in code and tell Jerry to get it out fast. Tell him its the strike-out edition. He can knock down his sets as soon as its out.
	Okay, boss. Margie had no knowledge of cryptography. Instead she had command of jive talk, adolscent slang, and high school double-talk which would be meaningless to any but another American bobbysoxer. At the other end a fifteen-year-old interpreted her butchered English by methods which impressed her foster parents as being telepathybut it worked.
	The fifteen-year-old could be trusted. Her entire family, save herself, had been in Los Angeles on Final Sunday.
	Art and Cleve had no trouble picking up Benzs trail. His tracks were on the tailings spilling down from the main entrance to the mine. The earth and rock had been undisturbed since the last heavy rain; Benzs flight left clear traces.
	But trail was cold by more than twenty minutes; they had left the mine by the secret entrance a quarter of a mile from where Benz had made his exit.
	Art picked it up where Benz had left the tailings and followed it through brush with the woodsmanship of the Eagle Scout he had been. From the careless signs he left behind Benz was evidently in a hurry and heading by the shortest route for the highway. The two followed him as fast as they could cover ground, discarding caution for speed.
	They checked just before entering the highway. See anything? asked Cleve.
  l\lo . ~


	Which way would he go?
	The Old Man said to head him off from Barclay.
	Yeah, but suppose he headed south instead? He used to work in Wickamton. He might head that way.
	The Boss said to cover Barclay. Lets go.
	They had to cache their guns; from here on it would be their wits and their knives. An armed American on a highway would be as conspicuous as a nudist at a garden party.
	Their object now was speed; they must catch up with him, or get ahead of him and waylay him.
	Nine miles and two and a half hours later-one
hundred and fifty minutes of dog trot, with time lost lying in the roadside brush when convoys thundered pastthey were in the outskirts of Barclay. Around a bend, out of sight, was the roadblock of the Invaders check station. The point was a bottleneck; Benz must come this way if he were heading for Barclay.
	Is he ahead or behind us? asked Cleve, peering out through bushes.
	Behind, unless he was picked up by a convoy-or sprouted wings. Well give him an hour.
	A horse-drawn hayrack lumbered up the road. Cleve studied it. Americans were permitted no power vehicles except under supervision, but this farmer and his load could go into town with only routine check at the road block. Maybe we ought to hide in that and look for him in town.
	And get a bayonet in your ribs? Dont be silly.
	Okay. Dont blow your top. Cleve continued to watch the rig. Hey, he said presently. Get a load of that!
	That was a figure which dropped from the tail of the wagon as it started around the bend, rolled to the ditch on the far side, and slithered out of sight.
	That was Joe!
	Are you sure?
	Sure! Here we go.
	How? Art objected. Take it easy. Follow me. They faded back two hundred yards, to where they could cross the road on hands and knees through a drainage pipe. Then they worked up the other side to where Benz had disappeared in weeds.
	They found the place where he had been; grass and weeds were still straightening up. The route he must have taken was evidentdown toward the river bank, then upstream to the city. There were drops of blood. Dad must have missed stopping him by a gnats whisker, Cleve commented.
	Bad job he didn t.
	Another thinghe said he was going to give himself up. I dont think he is, or he would have stayed
with the wagon and turned himself in at the check station. Hes heading for some hideout. Who does he know in Barclay?
	I dont know. Wed better get going.
	Wait a minute. If he touches off an alarm, theyll shoot him for us. If he gets by the eyes, weve lost him and well have to pick him up inside. Either way, we dont gain anything by blundering ahead. Weve got to go in by the chute.
	Like all cities the Invader had consolidated, Barclay was girdled by electric-eye circuits. The enemy had trimmed the town to fit, dynamiting and burning where necessary to achieve unbroken sequence of automatic sentries. But the chutean abandoned and forgotten aqueductpassed under the alarms. Art knew how to use it; he had been in town twice since Final Sunday.
	They worked back up the highway, crossed over, and took to the hills. Thirty minutes later they were on the streets of Barclay, reasonably safe as long as they were quick to step off the sidewalk for the occasional Invader.
	The first post office, a clothesline near their exit, told them nothingthe line was bare. They went to the bus station. Cleve studied the notices posted for inhabitants while Art went into the mens rest room. On the wall, defaced by scrawlings of every sort, mostly vulgar, he found what he sought: Killroy was here. The misspelling of Kilroy was the clueexactly eighteen inches below it and six to the right was an address: 1745 Spruceask for Mabel.
	He read it as 2856 Pine-one block beyond Spruce. Art passed the address to Cleve, then they set out separately, hurrying to beat the curfew but proceeding with cautionat least one of them must get through. They met in the backyard of the translated address. Art knocked on the kitchen door. It was opened a crack by a middle-aged man who did not seem glad to see them. Well?
	Were looking for Mabel.
	Nobody here by that name.
	Sorry, said Art. We must have made a mistake. He shivered. Chilly out, he remarked. The nights are getting longer.
	Theyll get shorter by and by, the man answered.
	Weve got to think so, anyhow, Art countered.
	Come in, the man said. The patrol may see you. He opened the door and stepped aside. My names Hobart. Whats your business?
	Were looking for a man named Benz. He may have sneaked into town this afternoon and found someplace to
	Yes, yes, Hobart said impatiently. He got in about an hour ago and hes holed up with a character named Moyland. As he spoke he removed a half loaf of bread from a cupboard, cut four slices, and added cold sausage, producing two sandwiches. He did not ask if they were hungry; he simply handed them to Art and Cleve.
	Thanks, pal. So hes holed up. Havent you done anything about it? He has got to be shut up at once or hell spill his guts.
	Weve got a tap in on the telephone line. We had to wait for dark. You cant expect me to sacrifice good boys just to shut his mouth unless its absolutely necessary.
	Well, its dark now, and well be the boys you mentioned. You can call yours off.
	Okay. Hobart started pulling on shoes.
	No need for you to stick your neck out, Art told him. Just tell us where this Moyland lives.
	And get your throat cut, too. Ill take you.
	What sort of a guy is this Moyland? Is he safe?
	You cant prove it by me. Hes a black market broker, but that doesnt prove anything. Hes not part of the organization but we havent anything against him.
	Hobart took them over his back fence, across a dark side street, through a playground, where they lay for several minutes under bushes because of a false alarm,
then through many more backyards, back alleys, and dark byways. The man seemed to h~tve a nose for the enemy; there were no more alarms. At last he brought them through a cellar door into a private home. They went upstairs and through a room where a woman was nursing a baby. She looked up, but otherwise ignored them. They ended up in a dark attic. Hi, Jim, Hobart called out softly. Whats new?
	The man addressed lay propped on his elbows, peering out into the night through opera glasses held to slots of a ventilating louvre. He rolled over and lowered the glasses, pushing one of a pair of earphones from his head as he did so. Hello, Chief. Nothing much. Benz is getting drunk, it looks like.
	Id like to know where Moyland gets it, Hobart said. Has he telephoned?
	Would I be doing nothing if he had? A couple of calls came in, but they didnt amount to anything, so I let him talk.
	How do you know they didnt amount to anything? Jim shrugged, turned back to the louvre. Moyland just pulled down the shade, he announced.
	Art turned to Hobart. We cant wait. Were going


	Benz arrived at Moylands house in bad condition. The wound in his shoulder, caused by Carters grenade, was bleeding. He had pushed a handkerchief up against it as a compress, but his activity started the blood again; he was shaking for fear his condition would attract attention before he could get under cover.
	Moyland answered the door. Is that you, Zack? Benz demanded, shrinking back as he spoke.
	Yes. Who is it?
	Its meJoe Benz. Let me in, Zackquick!
	Moyland seemed about to close the door, then suddenly opened it. Get inside. When the door was bolted, he demanded, Nowwhats your trouble? Why come to me?
	I had to go someplace, Zack. I had to get off the street. Theyd pick me up.
	Moyland studied him. Youre not registered. Why not?
	Benz did not answer. Moyland waited, then went on, You know what I can get for harboring a fugitive. Youre in the Undergroundarent you?
	Oh, no, Zack! I wouldnt do that to you. Im just a a straggler. I gotta get registered, Zack.
	Thats blood on your coat. How?
	Uh. . . just an accident. Maybe you could let me have clean rags and some iodine.
	Moyland stared at him, his bland face expressionless, then smiled. Youve got no troubles we cant fix. Sit down. He stepped to a cabinet and took out a bottle of bourbon, poured three fingers in a water glass, and handed it to Benz. Work on that and Ill fix you up.
	He returned with some torn toweling and a bottle. Sit here with your back to the window, and open your shirt. Have another drink. Youll need it before Im through.
	Benz glanced nervously at the window. Why dont you draw the shade?
	It would attract attention. Honest people leave their shades up these days. Hold still. This is going to hurt.
	Three drinks later Benz was feeling better. Moyland seemed willing to sit and drink with him and to soothe his nerves. You did well to come in, Moyland told him. Theres no sense hiding like a scared rabbit. Its just butting your head against a stone wall. Stupid.
	Benz nodded. Thats what I told them.
	Told who?
	Hunh? Oh, nobody. Just some guys I was talking to. Tramps.
	Moyland poured him another drink. As a matter of fact you were in the Underground.
	Me? Dont be silly, Zack.
	Look, Joe, you dont have to kid me. Im your friend. Even if you did tell me it wOuldnt matter. In the first place, I wouldnt have any proof. In the second place, Im sympathetic to the Undergroundany American is. I just think theyre wrong-headed and foolish. Otherwise Id join em myself.
	Theyre foolish all right! You can say that again.
	So you were in it?
	Huh? Youre trying to trap me. I gave my word of honor
	Oh, relax! Moyland said hastily. Forget it. I didnt hear anything; I cant tell anything. Hear no evil, see no evilthats me. He changed the subject.
	The level of the bottle dropped while Moyland explained current events as he saw them. Its a shame we had to take such a shellacking to learn our lesson but the fact of the matter is, we were standing in the way of the natural logic of progress. There was a time back in 45 when we could have pulled the same stunt ourselves, only we werent bright enough to do it. World organization, world government. We stood in the way, so we got smeared. It had to come. A smart man can see that.
	Benz was bleary but he did not find this comment easy to take. Look, Zackyou dont mean you like what happened to us?
	Like it? Of course not. But it was necessary. You dont have to like having a tooth pulledbut it has to be done. Anyhow, he went on, its not all bad. The big cities were economically unsound anyway. We should have blown them up ourselves. Slum clearance, you might call it.
	Benz banged his empty glass down. Maybe sobut they made slaves out of us!
	Take it easy, Joe, Moyland said, filling his glass, youre talking abstractions. The cop on the corner could push you around whenever he wanted to. Is that freedom? Does it matter whether the cop talks with an Irish accent or some other accent? No, chum, theres a
lot of guff talked about freedom. No man is free. There is no such thing as freedom. There are only various privileges. Free speechwere talking freely now, arent we? After all, you dont want to get up on a platform and shoot off your face. Free press? When did you ever own a newspaper? Dont be a chump. Now that youve shown sense and come in, you are going to find that things arent so very different. A little more orderly and no more fear of war, thats all. Girls make love just like they used to, the smart guys get along, and the suckers still get the short end of the deal.
	Benz nodded. Youre right, Zack. Ive been a fool.
	Im glad you see it. Now take those wild men you were with. What freedom have they got? Freedom to starve, freedom to sleep on the cold ground, freedom to be hunted.
	That was it, Benz agreed. Did you ever sleep in a mine, Zack? Cold. That aint half of it. Damp, too.
	I can imagine, Moyland agreed. The Capehart Lode always was wet.
	It wasnt the Capehart; it was the Harkn He caught himself and looked puzzled.
	The Harkness, eh? Thats the headquarters?
	I didnt say that! Youre putting words in my mouth! You
	Calm yourself, Joe. Forget it.Moyland got up and drew down the shade. You didnt say anything.
	Of course I didnt. Benz stared at his glass. Say, Zack, where do I sleep? I dont feel good.
	Youll have a nice place to sleep any minute now.
	Huh? Well, show me. I gotta fold up.
	Any minute. Youve got to check in first.
	Huh? Oh, I cant do that tonight, Zack. Im in no shape.
	Im afraid youll have to. See me pull that shade down? Theyll be along any moment.
	Benz stood up, swaying a little. You framed me! he yelled, and lunged at his host.
	Moyland sidestepped, put a hand on his shoulder
and pushed him down into the chair. Sit down, sucker, he said pleasantly. You dont expect me to get A-bombed just for you and your pals, do you?
	Benz shook his head, then began to sob.

	Hobart escorted them out of the house, saying to Art as they left, If you get back, tell McCracken that Aunt Dinah is resting peacefully.
	Okay.
	Give us two minutes, then go in. Good luck.
	Cleve took the outside; Art went in. The back door was locked, but the upper panel was glass. He broke it with the hilt of his knife, reached in and unbolted the door. He was inside when Moyland showed up to investigate the noise.
	Art kicked him in the belly, then let him have the point in the neck as he went down. Art stopped just long enough to insure that Moyland would stay dead, then went looking for the room where Benz had been when the shade was drawn.
	He found Benz in it. The man blinked his eyes and tried to focus them, as if he found it impossible to believe what he saw. Art! he got out at last. Jeez, boy! Am I glad to see you! Lets get out of herethis place is hot.
	Art advanced, knife out.
	Benz looked amazed. Hey, Art! Art! Youre making a mistake. Art. You cant do this Art let him have the first one in the soft tissues under the breast bone, then cut his throat to be sure. After that he got out quickly.
	Thirty-five minutes later he was emerging from the country end of the chute. His throat was burning from exertion and his left arm was uselesshe could not tell whether it was broken or simply wounded.
	Cleve lay dead in the alley behind Moylands house, having done a good job of covering Arts rear.

	It took Art all night and part of the next morning to get back near the mine. He had to go through the hills
the entire way; the highway was, he judged, too warm at the moment.
	He did not expect that the Company would still be there. He was reasonably sure that Morgan would have carried out the evacuation pending certain evidence that Benzs mouth had been shut. He hurried.
	But he did not expect what he did finda helicopter hovering over the neighborhood of the mine.
	He stopped to consider the matter. If Morgan had got them out safely, he knew where to rejoin. If they were still inside, he had to figure out some way to help them. The futility of his position depressed him-one man, with a knife and a bad arm, against a helicopter.
	Somewhere a bluejay screamed and cursed. Without much hope he chirped his own identification. The bluejay shut up and a mockingbird answered him Ted.
	Art signaled that he would wait where he was. He considered himself well hidden; he expected to have to signal again when Ted got closer, but he underestimated Teds ability. A hand was laid on his shoulder.
	He rolled over, knife out, and hurt his shoulder as he did so. Ted! Man, do you look good to me!
	Same here. Did you get him?
	Benz? Yes, but maybe not in time. Wheres the gang?
	A quarter mile north of back door. Were pinned down. Wheres Cleve?
	Cleves not coming back. What do you mean pinned down?
	That damned copter can see right down the draw were in. Dads got em under an overhang and theyre safe enough for the moment, but we cant move.
	What do you mean Dads got em? demanded Art. Wheres the Boss?
	He aint in such good shape, Art. Got a machine gun slug in the ribs. We had a dust up. Cathleens dead.
	The hell you say!
	Thats right. Margie and Maw Carter have got her baby. But thats one reason why were pinned down the Boss and the kid, I mean.
	A mockingbirds call sounded far away. Theres Dad, Ted announced. We got to get back.
	Can we?
	Sure. Just keep behind me. Ill watch out that I dont get too far ahead.
	Art followed Ted in, by a circuitous and, at one point, almost perpendicular route. He found the Company huddled under a shelf of rock which had been undercut by a stream, now dry. Against the wall Morgan was on his back, with Dad Carter and Dr. McCracken squatting beside him. Art went up and made his report.
	Morgan nodded, his face gray with pain. His shirt had been cut away; bandaging was wrapped around his ribs, covering a thick pad. You did well, Art. Too bad about Cleve. Ted, were getting out of here and youre going first, because youre taking the kid.
	The baby? How
	Docll dope it so that it wont let out a peep. Then you strap it to your back, papoose fashion.
	Ted thought about it. No, to my front. Theres some knee-and-shoulder work on the best way out.
	Okay. Its your job.
	How do you get out, boss?
	Dont be silly.
	Look here, boss, if you think were going to walk off and leave you, youve got another
	Shut up and scram! The exertion hurt Morgan; he coughed and wiped his mouth.
	Yes, sir. Ted and Art backed away.
	Now, Ed said Carter.
	You shut up, too. You still sure you dont want to be Captain?
	You know better than that, Ed. They took things from me while I was your deppity, but they wouldnt have me for Captain.
	That puts it up to you, Doc.
	McCracken looked troubled. They dont know me that well, Captain.
	Theyll take you. People have an instinct for such things.
	Anyhow, if I am Captain, I wont agree to your plan of staying here by yourself. Well stay till dark and carry you out.
	And get picked up by an infrared spotter, like sitting ducks? Thats supposing they let you alone until sundownthat other copter will be back with more troops before long.
	I dont think theyd let me walk off on you.
	Its up to you to make them. Oh, I appreciate your kindly thoughts, Doc, but youll think differently as soon as youre Captain. Youll know you have to cut your losses.
	McCracken did not answer. Morgan turned his head to Carter. Gather them around, Dad.
	They crowded in, shoulder to shoulder. Morgan looked from one troubled face to another and smiled. The Barclay Free Company, a provisional unit of the United States of America, is now in session, he announced, his voice suddenly firm. Im resigning the captaincy for reasons of physical disability. Any nommat ions?
	The silence was disturbed only by calls of birds, the sounds of insects.
	Morgan caught Carters eyes. Dad cleared his throat. I nominate Doc McCracken.
	Any other nominations? He waited, then continued, All right, all in favor of Doc make it known by raising your right hand. Okay-opposed the same sign. Dr. McCracken is unanimously elected. Its all yours, Captain. Good luck to you.
	McCracken stood up, stooping to avoid the rock overhead. Were evacuating at once. Mrs. Carter, give the baby about another tablespoon of the syrup, then help Ted. He knows what to do. Youll follow Ted.
Then Jerry. Margie, you are next. Ill assign the others presently. Once out of the canyon, spread out and go it alone. Rendezvous at dusk, same place as under Captain Morgans withdrawal planthe cave. He paused. Morgan caught his eye and motioned him over, Thats all until Ted and the baby are ready to leave. Now back away and give Captain Morgan a little air.
	When they had withdrawn McCracken leaned over Morgan the better to hear his weak words. Dont be too sure youve seen the last of me, Captain. I might join up in a few days.
	You might at that. Im going to leave you bundled up warm and plenty of water within reach. Ill leave you some pills, toothatll give you some comfort and ease. Only half a pill for youtheyre intended for cows. He grinned at his patient.
	Half a pill it is. Why not let Dad handle the evacuation? Hell make you a good deputyand Id like to talk with you until you leave.
	Right. He called Carter over, instructed him, and turned back to Morgan.
	After you join up with Powells outfit, whispered Morgan, your first job is to get into touch with Brockman. Better get Mrs. Carter started right away, once youve talked it over with Powell.
	I will.
	Thats the most important thing weve got to worry about, Doc. Weve got to have unity, and one plan, from coast to coast. I look forward to a day when there will be an American assigned, by name, to each and every one of them. Then at a set timezzzt! He drew a thumb across his throat.
	McCracken nodded. Could be. It will be. How long do you think it will take us?
	I dont know. I dont think about how long. Two years, five years, ten yearsmaybe a century. Thats not the point. The only question is whether or not there are any guts left in America. He glanced out where the fifth person to leave was awaiting a signal
from Carter, who in turn was awaiting a signal from Art, hidden out where he could watch for the helicopter. Those people will stick.
	Im sure of that.
	Presently Morgan added, Theres one thing this has taught me: You cant enslave a free man. Only person can do that to a man is himself. No, siryou cant enslave a free man. The most you can do is kill him.
	Thats a fact, Ed.
	It is. Got a cigarette, Doc?
	It wont do you any good, Ed.
	It wont do me any harm, eithernow, will it?
	Well, not much. McCracken unregretfully gave him his last and watched him smoke it.
	Later, Morgan said, Dads ready for you, Captain. So long.
	So long. Dont forget. Half a pill at a time. Drink all the water you want, but dont take your blankets off, no matter how hot you get.
	Half a pill it is. Good luck.
	Ill have Ted check on you tomorrow. Morgan shook his head. Thats too soon. Not for a couple of days at least.
	McCracken smiled. Ill decide that, Ed. You just keep yourself wrapped up. Good luck. He withdrew to where Carter waited for him. You go ahead, Dad. Ill bring up the rear. Signal Art to start.
	Carter hesitated. Tell me straight, Doc. What kind of shape is he in?
	McCracken studied Carters face, then said in a low voice, I give him about two hours.
	Ill stay behind with him.
	No, Dad, youll carry out your orders. Seeing the distress in the old mans eyes, he added, Dont you worry about Morgan. A free man can take care of himself. Now get moving.
	Yes, sir.
