“We could use one of those,” Tess remarked.
“I’ll take it with us,” Grandpa said. “It will make a dandy gift for Betty.”
“What are you doing with it?” Johnny wanted to know.
“Watch.” Grandpa moved to the center of the bedroom and deposited the marble square on the floor, then positioned the pot on the marble. He went into another bedroom across the hall and came back with an armful of furniture fragments.
“We’re going to use it for our fire!” Johnny deduced.
Grandpa nodded. He knelt and dropped the wood into the pot, then took a box of matches from his left front pocket. A minute later, a small fire was radiating light and heat about the room.
“Neat!” Johnny said. “I’ll have to remember this trick.”
“It’s no trick,” Grandpa corrected him. “They did it all the time before the war.”
Tess unslung the brown leather pouch she wore draped over her left shoulder by a thin strap. “Can we eat now?”
Grandpa nodded, kneeling next to the pot.
Johnny crossed to the only window in the room and examined a network of cracks in the glass. “I can’t believe this is in one piece!”
Tess opened her pouch and extracted three strips of beef jerky. “Here you go.” She handed one to Grandpa and tossed a strip to her brother.
“So what’s an amusement park?” Johnny queried, then bit into the tangy jerky.
Grandpa held his wrinkled hands over the fire. “An amusement park was where they went to have fun.”
“Have fun?” Johnny said. “They had a special place for havin’ fun?”
Grandpa grinned. “They had lots of places. Amusement parks, circuses, zoos, and others. I understand they have a few animals left at the zoo in Los Angeles. We’ll visit it, if you want.”
“I’d love to see it!” Johnny declared.
“I know of only one zoo left, the one in L.A.,” Grandpa stated. “But amusement parks and circuses are things of the past. They died with the war. People had more important priorities, like merely staying alive.
California had it pretty easy, compared to the rest of the country. But even here there were the looters, the Raiders, the mutants, and assorted killers.”
“You still haven’t told me what an amusement park is,” Johnny observed, his mouth full of jerky.
“They were filled with rides of all kinds, tiny cars and trains and boats and…” Grandpa paused, pondering. “Roller coasters.”
“What’s a roller coaster?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t really know,” Grandpa said. “I’ve never been to an amusement park. Like I said, my father told me about them fifty years ago, and he learned about them from his father. You’ve got to remember it’s been one hundred and five years since the war.” He sighed. “My age must be showing. I don’t recall details like I once did.”
“You do fine,” Johnny mentioned affectionately. “I hope I’m in as good a shape as you are when I’m your age.”
“Thanks,” Grandpa said, smirking. “I think.”
“You know,” Tess interjected, “sometimes I wish there had never been a war. I think we would be better off if those assholes hadn’t decided to blow up the world.”
“They didn’t blow up the world,” Grandpa stated, “but they came awful close.”
“Do you think there will be another big war?” Tess inquired.
“World War Four?”
“Yeah,” Tess said.
Grandpa shrugged. “There might be. As far as I know, we don’t have any major countries left in the world. None of what they used to call superpowers.”
“What’s a superpower?” Johnny questioned.
“A country with people egotistical enough to believe they were super, and with enough military power to destroy their enemies ten times over,” Grandpa replied.
“Were there a lot of these superpowers?” Tess asked.
“A few,” Grandpa responded. “And I don’t believe there will be another world war until superpowers are formed again.”
“Why’s that?” Johnny asked, delighting, as always, in his grandfather’s entertaining explanations.
“I have this theory,” Grandpa said. “World wars are caused by countries getting too big for their britches. A superpower is a war waiting to happen. So long as we have individual countries or nations trying to be on top, to control everybody else, we’ll have world wars.”
“We’ll have wars forever,” Tess commented.
“Maybe not,” Grandpa said. “Not if we could set up a global government.”
“A what?” Johnny said.
“A government of all the people on the planet,” Grandpa stated. “It could be set up like this country used to be. There were fifty states before the war, and they lived in peace because they were presided over by a central government. Well, it could work on a global scale, too. We could have all the nations, or what’s left of them, agree to create a world government.”
“You’re dreaming,” Tess said.
Johnny looked out the window. “You sure come up with some weird ideas.”
Grandpa stared at his grandson. “You don’t think it would work?”
“How should I know?” Johnny responded. “All I know about government is that I don’t like anyone tellin’ me what to do.”
“The Free State of California isn’t a dictatorship,” Grandpa remarked.
“Oh, yeah?” Johnny retorted. “Then what’s this I hear about them making every kid go to school for five years, whether they want to go or not?” He frowned. “I’m glad I’m too old to go.”
Grandpa laughed. “Before the war everyone attended school for at least twelve years.”
“What?” Johnny said in surprise.
“That’s right,” Grandpa affirmed. “The school system, like almost everything else, fell apart after the war. They didn’t have enough teachers, and there was no way to keep all the school buses running.” He paused.
“Besides, the state government was too busy trying to restore order and maintain control. They didn’t get the schools operating again in Los Angeles and the other big cities until about forty years ago, and it’s been a slow process for them to organize schools in the smaller towns and rural communities.”
“Well, I don’t think they should have the right to force you to go to school,” Johnny stated emphatically.
“I agree,” Grandpa concurred, grinning.
“You do?” Johnny asked.
“Certainly,” Grandpa said. “If you want to be dumb all your life, that’s your prerogative.”
“My what?” Johnny queried.
“I rest my case,” Grandpa said.
“I don’t need school,” Johnny declared. “I learn everything I need from you, just like you learned from your dad.”
“I’m afraid it’s not the same,” Grandpa disagreed.
Johnny, hoping to change the subject, gazed out the window. “It sure is dark out there.”
“See anything?” Tess inquired.
“Only a mutant,” Johnny answered.
Tess glanced up in alarm. “A mutant!”
“Yep. A giant rabbit breakin’ branches from the trees,” Johnny said, and cackled.
“You’re not funny,” Tess told him.
“Will you relax?” Johnny advised her. “There’s nothin’ out there to worry about.”
The window suddenly exploded inward, showering shards of glass over the floor. Johnny was flung backwards, his arms flailing, and tripped over a chair, crashing onto his back.
“Johnny!” Tess screamed.
Grandpa drew his revolver, aiming the gun at the shattered window.
The wind tore into the room, stirring the dust.
“Johnny!” Tess leaped to her brother’s side. “Johnny!”
There was a ragged cavity spurting blood and brains in Johnny’s forehead above his right eye. A pool of crimson was spreading around his head, soaking his hair. His mouth was twisted in a cockeyed grin.