‘Is it really that serious?’ asked Vee, unsteadily.
‘Oh, it’s serious all right,’ nodded Granger. ‘And by the looks of it, it’s going to get a whole lot worse. Have you heard the news about all food less than three weeks old being contaminated? And I mean, all food.’
‘We heard it on the news,’ said Carl. ‘They said it was only a rumour – unconfirmed.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Granger, shaking his head. ‘I wish it were.’
Carl said: ‘So what’s your congregation going to do? Pool their food? Try to survive by sticking together?’
‘That’s right,’ said Granger. ‘From what I hear, groups of people are getting together all over the country for their mutual protection. I mean, Carl, there aren’t just Angels out there now, there are organised mobs of looters. And our particular advantage at the Church of the Practical Miracle is that one of my oldest friends is Mike Bull, who runs the Hughes supermarket on Highland. He has a whole stockroom of food down there which he managed to keep out of the hands of the looters. He called me last night and asked if I could get together about a hundred really trustworthy and responsible people, so that we could barricade ourselves in with all that food and try to weather this whole crisis through.’
‘What about the contaminated food?’ asked Vee.
‘That’s easy. Mike’s a supermarket manager, so he knows all the dating codes. He won’t feed us with anything risky.’
Season stood up. She was very pale, and for the first time she felt the acute muscular pain of what Oxnard had done to her. Reality was just beginning to jangle through the soundproofing of shock. ‘Can we really justify shutting ourselves in with all that food, while other people starve?’ she asked Granger. ‘Is that really what Christ would have advocated?’
Granger stared at her for a long moment. ‘Christ said. There is no man that hath left house, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God’s sake. Who shall not receive manifold more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting.’
He reached out his hand for her, but she did not take it, or acknowledge it. She said simply, ‘I was violated today by a man who seemed to believe that the only moral he had to observe before taking anything, or assaulting anyone, was that he should want to. The effect that his behaviour had on other people didn’t matter, as far as he was concerned. Shock them, frighten them – so what? Well, I’ll tell you so what. He hurt me beyond belief, and humiliated my sister in front of her husband. And I’m afraid the way you’re talking now, Granger, and the way you’ve acted towards me since I’ve been here – well, they’re both nothing more than less obvious and less offensive examples of the same moral attitude.’
She laid her arm around Sally’s shoulders, and said, ‘You saved Sally’s life, and you saved the rest of us, too. I’m very grateful, and it’s a debt I won’t ever be able to repay you. But as far as your Church is concerned, and as far as your own personality is concerned, I think I’ve seen them today for what they are – or at least for what they could be. I don’t like people who take what they want by force, Granger, and I don’t like people who believe that they are chosen by God, and free of the rules of kindness and sharing that are supposed to govern the rest of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
Granger gave Helmut a backwards glance to see if he was listening, and then turned back to Season. ‘Quite a preacher yourself,’ he told her, with unexpected sourness. But then he smiled, remembering himself, and said solicitously, ‘Well – you’ve been through a bad time. I can understand that you’re feeling kind of off-balance. So the offer’s still open. You can come down to the supermarket and join us if you want – provided you get there before midnight tonight, because that’s when we’re going to start barricading ourselves in.’
‘Thank you,’ Season whispered.
‘As for that other stuff…’ went on Granger. ‘Maybe you’ll feel better when you’ve washed the stench of that animal off of you, and forgotten the stink of his breath.’
Season stood up straight, and the blanket slipped down her shoulders a little, baring her neck. ‘Actually,’ she said, almost hysterically, ‘he used Scope.’
Granger watched her lead Sally towards the staircase, walking awkwardly as an automaton and climb the stairs. He blinked at Carl and Vee in perplexity, and said: ‘Scope?’
Carl said: ‘Thanks for the rescue. Granger. I mean it, sincerely. You saved us. And you too, Helmut. And, Granger. Don’t worry too much about Season. If you went through what she’s just been through, and talked half as much sense, then you’d be twice the preacher you are now.’
‘Carl,’ said Granger, ‘I’m not sure that anybody’s talking sense. The whole darn world’s gone out of its head.’
Nine
In a special newsflash on Wednesday evening, at nine o’clock Central Time, the President of the United States confirmed that ‘all food produce containing cereals — and that includes processed meats, breads, cookies, pastas, beers, and spirits – must now come under suspicion of having been contaminated with heavy cobalt radiation. As a general rule, foodstuffs produced more than three weeks ago can be considered safe – provided, of course, they are canned, or frozen, or still fresh. But if you are in doubt, a more detailed explanation will be broadcast immediately after this message on your local television station, and on your local radio. You will also be able to obtain leaflets from your City Hall or local citizens’ centre.’
The President, looking twenty years older than he had the previous week, and with a pronounced stutter, went on to say that ‘everybody should stay at home unless essential business takes them out.’
He was asked if he could now confirm that there was a Communist plot to overthrow the United States by ‘starving us out.’ He said tiredly: ‘I can neither confirm nor deny such a plot at this stage of the crisis.’
After the newsflash, the President was called urgently back to the Oval Office. A top-secret report had just arrived from the office of the Secretary of Health and Scientific Affairs. The President read the report slowly, watched by his two closest friends and personal aides. When he had finished reading it, at 10.13 p.m., he said: ‘I—’ and collapsed. He was rushed at once to the Walter Reed Army Medical Centre where he was confined to an oxygen tent. His doctors agreed that he was suffering from ‘overwork, high blood pressure and severe stress.’
The health report revealed that there had been thirty-five cases of fatal botulism throughout the preceding forty-eight hours. They had occurred all over the continent, from New Jersey to Arizona, from Texas to Alaska. In each case, the carrier had been a canned food product – not necessarily from the same manufacturer, and not necessarily the same variety of foodstuff. But every can that had been inspected by government health researchers had been punctured by a tiny hole – so small that the contents did not even leak – and in some cases the hole had been resealed by a dab of candle-wax.
The Secretary of Health concluded that ‘it must be beyond serious doubt that some malevolent agency has deliberately and in a calculated manner introduced Clostridium botulinum into a random variety of canned foods throughout the nation. Therefore – as grave as I realise the implications of such a recommendation must be – I have to put forward the urgent suggestion that the sale of all canned foods in the United States be immediately suspended pending more detailed investigation.’