Konrad sat down at the long table beside Detweiler. “Revolution?” he said. “We do not have revolutions in America. If we do not like the President, soon we elect a new one.”
“Aha!” said Elsie. “But suppose the system breaks down. What do we do then?”
Konrad looked puzzled, and Jupe glanced around the kitchen. His eyes rested on the wood-burning stove that stood beside the big gas range.
“The system breaks down?” said Jupe. “That’s what you’re getting ready for here, isn’t it? This place is like a fortress–stocked with supplies so that it can go through a siege. It’s like one of the castles in the Middle Ages.”
“Exactly right,” said Detweiler. “What we’re doing here is getting ready for the end of the world–or at least for the end of our way of life.”
Elsie poured a cup of coffee for herself. As she sat down and took a spoonful of sugar, Jupe noticed that there was a slight deformity on her right hand–a jutting bit of bone and flesh on her smallest finger.
“I don’t think we’re getting ready for the kind of revolution where we drag the President out and shoot him,” she said. “I think what Mr Barron has in mind is a time when everything sort of falls apart and we have famine and looting and confusion and bloodshed. You know. He thinks the world is really going to the dogs, and we have to be prepared if we’re going to survive.”
“Mr Barron believes that gold and land are the only safe investments, doesn’t he?” said Jupiter. “Obviously he expects a collapse of the prevailing monetary system.”
Elsie Spratt stared at him. “Do you always talk that way?” she asked.
Pete chuckled. “Jupe doesn’t believe in using short words if long ones will do as well.”
Jupe ignored this jibe. “Do you think our world is coming to an end?” he asked Elsie and Detweiler.
Elsie shrugged. “No, I suppose not.”
“I think Mr Barron’s the only one who really believes it,” said Detweiler. “He claims the government is poking its nose into places where it doesn’t belong, and people nowadays don’t have to work if they don’t want to, and so most people don’t. He says that sooner or later our money won’t be worth anything–”
“Shhh!” said Elsie.
She put a hand on Detweiler’s arm and looked past him to the door. Mrs Barron stood there on the other side of the screen. “May I come in?” she said.
“Of course.” Elsie got up. “We were just having coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“No, thank you.” Mrs Barron stepped into the kitchen and smiled at Jupiter, Pete, and Bob. “I saw you boys come in,” she said. “I wonder if you could stay a bit longer and have dinner with Mr Barron and myself?”
Konrad scowled. “Jupe, it is after five,” he said. “We should go now.”
Mrs Barron turned to Elsie. “We could eat early, couldn’t we?” she said.
Elsie looked startled. “I guess so.”
“There now!” Mrs Barron smiled again, and Jupe looked questioningly at Bob and then at Pete.
“That would be swell,” said Pete.
“Don’t worry,” said Bob to Konrad. “We’ll get to San Jose sooner or later.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Mrs Barron. “We’ll sit down at five-thirty.”
She went out and down the back steps of the ranch house.
“I do not like this,” said Konrad. “I think we should go.”
“In a little while, Konrad,” said Jupe. “Another hour or so won’t make any difference.”
Jupiter’s deductions and predictions were usually right. But this time he couldn’t have been more wrong.
3
No Exit
“MRS BARRON LIKES BOYS,” said Hank Detweiler. “She has two adopted sons and she misses them. One went off to be a drummer with a rock group, and the other lives in Big Sur now and makes wooden clogs that he sells to tourists. He writes poetry, too.”
“Gee,” said Pete. “How does Mr Barron feel about that?”
“Not a bit happy,” said Elsie Spratt. “You boys go along and have your dinner and be nice to Mrs Barron, but watch out for him. When he’s in a bad mood, he’s cosy as a rattlesnake in a rainstorm.”
Konrad looked upset. “I think I will not go,” he announced. “I will stay here and wait.” He glanced at Elsie. “It is okay if I stay here?” he asked.
“Why, sure,” said Elsie. “You can have your dinner here while the boys are living it up over in the big house.”
And so Jupiter, Pete, and Bob left the ranch house at five-thirty and walked across the drive to the Barron house. Mrs Barron opened the door for them and then led them into a parlour that was stiffly formal, with settees and chairs upholstered in velvet. Mr Barron was there, complaining loudly that there was something wrong with the television set. “Nothing but noise and snow!” he said. He shook hands with the boys in an absent-minded way. “You young fellows are in school, I suppose,” he said. “Learning anything? Or are you just putting in your time?”
Before the boys could answer, a Mexican woman came to the doorway to announce that dinner was served. Mr Barron offered his arm to Mrs Barron, and the boys followed them to the dining room.
The Mexican woman had brought the dinner across from Elsie’s kitchen, and it was delicious. Jupe ate slowly and listened to Mr Barron’s lecture on the evils of plastic in almost any form. He learned that Mr Barron did not approve of vinyl that masqueraded as leather, or of polyester that pretended to be wool. Mr Barron also took time to condemn termite inspectors who did not understand termites and auto mechanics who could not fix cars properly.
Mrs Barron waited until her husband had finished his list of grievances. Then she began to talk quietly about her son in Big Sur who wrote poetry.
“Trash!” snapped Mr Barron. “The stuff doesn’t even rhyme! That’s the trouble with the world today. Poetry doesn’t rhyme and people don’t have to work to earn a living and children don’t have to respect their parents and–”
“Charles, dear, I think you have a crumb on your chin,” said Mrs Barron.
Mr Barron dabbed at himself with a napkin, and Mrs Barron told the boys about her other son who played drums for a musical group.
“He’s going to be here in August,” said Mrs Barron, “for the convention.”
Mr Barron made a choking sound, and his face grew very red. “Mob of zanies!” he grumbled.
“Convention?” said Pete timidly.
“The annual meeting of the Blue Light Mission will take place here in August,” said Mrs Barron. She smiled at Jupiter. “You know about that–you’ve read the book. So many members of our society have talked with the rescuers who come from the planet Omega. They’ll share their experiences with the rest of us, and if we’re lucky we’ll have Vladimir Contreras for our speaker this year.”
“Oh, yes,” said Jupe. “The man who wrote They Walk Among Us.”
Mr Barron leaned back in his chair. “Last year the convention of the Blue Light Mission was held in a cornfield in Iowa and a man came who believed that the earth is hollow and that a race of superbeings live inside it,” he said. “There was also a woman who told fortunes with magnetized needles that floated on water, and a pimply youth who kept saying ‘Om! Om!’ until I wanted to hit him.”
“You went to the convention?” said Pete to Barron.
“I had to!” snapped Barron. “My wife is a remarkable woman, but if I left her to herself, she would surely be victimized by those loonies. Even when I am with her, she becomes over-enthusiastic. I was unable to keep her from inviting that weird group here this summer.”
“We should have a large turnout,” said Mrs Barron happily. “Many people are keenly interested. They know that the rescuers are out there watching us.”
“The only ones who are out there watching us are anarchists and criminals who want to take over,” said Mr Barron. “Well, I’m ready for them!”
Pete looked pleadingly at Jupe, who stood up.
“It was very kind of you to invite us,” said Jupe, “but we must go. Konrad is anxious to get to San Jose.”
“Of course,” said Mrs Barron. “We mustn’t make you late.”
She walked to the door with the boys, and she stood and watched them go down the front steps.
“You have a good time?” asked Elsie Spratt when they came into the ranch-house kitchen.
“Interesting,” said Bob, “but not cosy. You said it.”
Elsie laughed. “A rattlesnake in a rainstorm.”
Konrad had just finished his dinner. He carried his dishes to the sink, and then the four visitors went out to the truck. Detweiler stood on the porch of the ranch house as they drove out, waving goodbye to them.