Duke said slowly, “I promise.”
“Good. But a promise made under duress isn’t binding. There is another commitment always given under duress and nevertheless binding, a point which as a lawyer you will appreciate. I want your parole as a prisoner. Will you give me your parole to abide by the conditions until we leave the shelter? A straight quid-pro-quo: your parole in exchange for not being forced outside?”
“You have my parole.”
“Thank you. Throw the bolts and fasten your trousers. Joseph, stow the Tommy gun.”
“Okay, Boss.”
Duke secured the door, secured his pants. As he turned around, his father offered him the automatic, butt first. “What’s this for?” Duke asked.
“Suit yourself. If your parole isn’t good, I would rather find it out now.”
Duke took the gun, removed the clip, worked the slide and caught the cartridge from the chamber, put it back into the clip and reloaded the gun-handed it back. “My parole is good. Here.”
“Keep it. You were always a headstrong boy, Duke, but you were never a liar.”
“Okay. . . Boss.” His son put the pistol in a pocket. “Hot in here.”
“And going to get hotter.”
“Eh? How much radiation do you think we’re getting?”
“I don’t mean radiation. Fire storm.” He walked into the space where the bays joined, looked at a thermometer, then at his wrist. “Eighty-four and only twenty-three minutes since we were hit. It’ll get worse.”
“How much worse?”
“How would I know, Duke? I don’t know how far away the hit was, how many megatons, how widespread the fire. I don’t even know whether the house is burning overhead, or was blasted away. Normal temperature in here is about fifty degrees. That doesn’t look good. But there is nothing to do about it. Yes, there’s one thing. Strip down to shorts. I shall.”
He went into the other bay. The girls were still in the lower bunk, arms around each other, keeping quiet. Joseph was on the floor with his back to the wall, the cat in his lap. Karen looked round-eyed as her father approached but she said nothing.
“You kids can get up.”
“Thanks,” said Karen. “Pretty warm for snuggling.” Barbara backed out and Karen sat up.
“So it is. Did you hear what just happened?”
“Some sort of argument,” Karen said cautiously.
“Yes. And it’s the last one. I’m boss and Joseph is my deputy. Understood?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Mrs. Wells?”
“Me? Why, of course! It’s your shelter. I’m grateful to be in it-I’m grateful to be alive! And please call me Barbara, Mr. Farnham.”
“Sorry. 11mm- Call me ‘Hugh,’ I prefer it to “Hubert.’ Duke, everybody-first names from now on. Don’t call me ‘Dad,’ call me ‘Hugh.’ Joe, knock off the ‘mister’ and the ‘miss.’ Catch?”
“Okay, Boss, if you say so.”
“Make that ‘Okay, Hugh.’ Now you girls peel down, panties and bra or such, then get Grace peeled to her skin and turn the light out there. It’s hot, it’s going to get hotter. Joe, strip to your shorts.” Mr. Farnham took his jacket off, started unbuttoning his shirt.
Joseph said, “Uh, I’m comfortable.”
“I wasn’t asking, I was telling you.”
“Uh. . . Boss, I’m not wearing shorts!”
“He’s not,” Karen confirmed. “I rushed him.”
“So?” Hugh looked at his ex-houseboy and chuckled. “Joe, you’re a sissy. I should have made Karen straw boss.”
“Suits me.”
“Get a pair out of stores and you can change in the toilet space. While you’re about it, show Duke where it is. Karen, the same for Barbara. Then we’ll gather for a powwow.”
The powwow started five minutes later. Hugh Farnham was at the table, dealing out bridge hands, assessing them. When they were seated he said, “Anybody for bridge?”
“Daddy, you’re joking.”
“My name is ‘Hugh.’ I was not joking, a rubber of bridge might quiet your nerves. Put away that cigarette, Duke.”
“Uh . . . sorry.”
“You can smoke tomorrow, I think. Tonight I’ve got pure oxygen cracked pretty wide and we are taking in no air. You saw the bottles in the toilet space?” The space between the bays was filled by pressure bottles, a water tank, a camp toilet, stores, and a small area where a person might manage a stand-up bath. Air intakes and exhausts, capped off, were there, plus a hand-or-power blower, and scavengers for carbon dioxide and water vapor. This space was reached by an archway between the tiers of bunks.