“Okay,” Michael said, already somewhat relieved by the professional, almost military bearing of the other two men. “I’m still curious how you knew about this so much sooner than everyone else. Do you really have a friend at the Pentagon?”
“Yes, I do,” Forrest said. “And that’s about as much as I intend to say about him or her. Great risks were taken.”
“I understand,” Michael said. “So I guess my next question is why go to so much effort to save a bunch of total strangers? It would be so much easier to save yourselves and leave it at that.”
Forrest deferred the question to Ulrich.
“Is it really so much different than a policeman risking his life to protect his community?” Ulrich asked. “Or a soldier risking his life to protect his nation?”
“Not diametrically, no,” Michael said. “But in actual practice I believe that soldiers tend to fight for one another, rather than for king and country.”
“Yes and no,” Forrest said. “When we were in combat, sure, it was for the team. But it was for king and country that we volunteered in the first place.”
“So you equate military service with what you’re planning now?”
“Wayne, myself, and the other three men in our group have spent all of our adult lives defending people,” Forrest explained. “Be they Americans or the innocents of some other country—which does not make us heroes. We’re just particularly well trained for this kind of thing and we feel a certain amount of responsibility.”
“Particularly well trained how?” Veronica asked.
“We’re retired Green Berets,” Ulrich said. “Special Forces operatives. And in the Special Forces we’re trained to operate in small groups, as small as practical for any given operation. Which means that each man has to be as broadly trained as possible. The training can range widely, from foreign languages to the piloting of rotary winged aircraft.”
“So you’ve been in combat?” Michael asked. “Shot people?”
The two soldiers glanced at one another.
“We’ve fired a few rounds in anger, yes,” Forrest said dryly.
“I’m not trying to sound like an adolescent,” Michael said. “I’m very curious about what sort of people you are, your backgrounds.”
“Maybe we’re a little unused to being questioned about certain things,” Ulrich offered. “I suppose that’s something we’re going to have to get used to now that we’ll be living among nonmilitary personnel.”
“Do any of you have families?” Veronica asked.
“Most of us do,” Ulrich said. “Only Jack and our buddy Marcus are single. Though Jack’s technically…” He looked at Forrest, unsure how to continue.
“What he means is that technically I still have a wife,” Forrest explained. “But we’ve been separated for about eighteen months now and she won’t be joining us.”
Veronica was surprised and even a little disappointed to learn that Forrest was married, but she couldn’t tell whether it was his decision for his wife not to join them or his wife’s. So she asked.
“It’s hers,” he answered matter-of-factly, maintaining the military bearing. “I want very much for her to be with us, but after we lost our son she… well, she’s very different now, and she has no desire to survive what’s coming.”
“I’m so sorry,” Veronica said.
“I’m also very sorry,” Michael said sincerely. “It’s very difficult for a mother to lose a child. There’s no way you might convince her?”
Forrest shook his head, his deadpan demeanor signaling a change of subject.
Veronica wasn’t familiar with this all-business version of Jack Forrest, but she was pretty sure that he was being so soldierly now for Michael’s benefit. The question was whether it was out of respect, or an attempt to convince Michael that he was capable of carrying off the task at hand.
“So you really think you can pull this off?” she asked.
“If we survive the impact, I’m confident that we can survive belowground for as long as the food holds out, which should be anywhere from eighteen months to two years, depending on how many join us. After that, I make no predictions or guarantees of any kind. What we’re offering is a chance. Nothing more. And it’s clearly not an option for everyone. It won’t be easy living underground in such close quarters.”
“How have you screened your candidates?” Michael asked. “Or haven’t you?”
“I gave five hundred dollars to a social worker in the Lincoln area along with a list of criteria,” Forrest answered. “I wanted reasonably intelligent, responsible, single mothers of healthy, underprivileged children between the ages of five and twelve. There were a few other stipulations, but those were the biggies.”
“Because younger children eat less food?” Michael assumed.
“Correct. In all, we’ve tagged about fifty people in addition to our own families and friends.”
“And you’ve contacted them all?”
“We’ve contacted none of them yet. We’ll begin what we’re calling the ‘round-up’ ten days prior to impact, and we obviously don’t expect them all to accept the offer.”
“No other men?”
“There are two,” Ulrich said. “A surgeon and a dentist, along with their wives and children. Otherwise, no males older than ten.”
“You can’t risk having your hegemony challenged,” Michael said.
“Bluntly put, that’s exactly right,” Forrest said.
“It makes good sense.”
“Good to hear we have the psychiatrist’s approval.” Forrest said, grinning. “And you’re a sociologist,” he continued, pointing at Veronica.
“Yes,” she said with a smile, glad to finally see his grin again.
“That’s interesting,” Ulrich said with an enthusiastic glance at Forrest. Up until this point he hadn’t seen much advantage to their joining the group.
“And you don’t think all this preparation is overkill?” Michael asked. “The government seems pretty confident they can stop this thing.”
“It’s a delaying action,” Ulrich said. “They won’t stop it. They know they’re only buying time.”
“Listen, I’ll tell you how it’s going to go,” Forrest said, cutting to the chase. “That meteor—”
“Asteroid.”
“That rock is going to smack into this planet traveling at something like thirty miles a second. After that, it’s good night, Irene. Billions of tons of dirt and dust are going to smother the atmosphere, and much of this continent’s going to catch on fire. So add all that smoke and ash to the mix as well. All of this brings on nuclear winter, and the government’s strategic food reserves—those that survive the firestorm—are going to run out in less than a few months. Soon after that, people are going to be shooting one another over cans of Alpo. And by the time the civilized people have all been murdered or starved to death, the psychopathic alpha males are going to take over, creating their own little fiefdoms, deciding who to keep as enforcers, who to rape and who to eat. Our hope is to outlast those crazy bastards and try to find a way to grow some food through hydroponics and artificial lighting. We admit this last part’s going to be dicey, but we feel a deep desire to at least give it a try.”
“And if by some miracle we’re wrong about how bad it’s going to be,” Ulrich chimed in, “we pop the hatch and go back to our lives. No harm, no foul.”
Michael sat quietly mulling it over. “I know how naive it is,” he admitted, “but it’s still awfully hard to wrap my head around. You two talk about it as though you’ve already been through it.”
“In a sense, we have been through it,” Forrest said. “The only difference was the breadth and severity of the destruction. Large parts of Iraq and Afghanistan were literally obliterated, and cannibalism is about the only atrocity we haven’t seen. Make no mistake—life’s going to be a living nightmare for most of those who survive beyond the first few weeks.”