Steve dragged a tired hand across his face as if he had only just remembered an essential like eating. He accepted the bowl and found a spot to sit, then took a good look around the room.
“Frag!” Steve Margolies exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Look at Frank. He’s petting that cat.”
“Sure, it’s fine exercise for his fingers,” Clodagh was saying matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows animals are good for distressed folk.”
Bunny was grinning, too, as she carried the stew bowl out the door on her way to Adak.
Despite the lid to keep the heat in, she had to walk carefully to keep from spilling the stew. It would keep hot long enough, however, for her to make a few short stops on her way to Adak’s.
She slipped in at her own place, where she traded her soaked and stiffened hide boots for her breakup muckers and put on a kettle of food for her dogs. She looked in at Moira’s window. The cousins and the dogs must have come and gone again, for Seamus was sitting large as life by the stove, shoveling Moira’s soup and bread into his face. Moira was busy cooking. Now that Bunny knew that Seamus had made it back okay, she could continue with an easy heart.
Passing Maloney’s again, she was greeted by Dinah’s unhappy howl. She would pet and reassure the dog on the way back. Right now, not only was Adak’s stew cooling but also a clever dog like Dinah might try to have first grabs at it. So she simply clucked reassuringly at the dog and kept going.
Six or seven snocles sat parked outside Adak’s shed, but they had not been cleaned, serviced, or fueled, and were still covered with melting slush, water, and mud. Inside, Adak, headphones over his ears and microphone at his lips, was hunched over the radio. Bunny slid into a chair beside him and shoved the stew in his direction. He looked a little startled to see it appear in front of him, but accepted it without question. Lines were etched deeply into his face and his eyes looked hollow, but his whole body was taut with nervous energy. Early breakup and a new volcano a-borning might be considered catastrophes, but the end result was that today had produced the most excitement Kilcoole had seen since the first expeditionary team had been lost in a tsunami down on the southern edge of the ice pack.
“Well, I’m sorry about that, SpaceBase,” Adak was saying with a certain amount of agitation, “but until the next hard freeze, the snocles aren’t reliable as transportation for a trip clear out there. Over.” He managed to spoon some stew into his mouth. “Oh, sure and they’ll run on the snow, that’s not the problem. The problem is the rivers, you see, and if you don’t believe me, you can ask yer lads as got fished out of them today. Over.
“Is that so? Well, I’m sorry to hear that, too. It’s a shame about Dr. Fiske’s shuttle crashin’ and to be sure we do understand the urgency and all. Over.” He hurriedly ate some more.
“No, of course flyin’ over it is impossible if the ash and smoke are as thick as you say. My suggestion would be to get yourself some of them crane-copters and have them hoist the snocles to the edge of the affected area and then see if the snocles’ll drive at all in the ash. You’re still going to be havin’ the same problem with slushy going as we have here though. Over.
“The rivers of course, man! Petaybee has more rivers and lakes than you can shake a stick at, and who knows which ones are thawin’ this early? Normally the high country would stay frozen longer, but a volcano, now, that’s a chancy thing. I’m not a scientific man like yerself, but it seems to me such a thing would warm the country considerable. Over.
“Like I said, air-hoist a snocle to where O’Shay picked up the wounded. I’ll wager Yana Maddock can drive it even if your two officer lads don’t know how. Over.
“They what! When? How’d you find out? Uh-very well, over.