after that things were better. Sol shared out the rest of the Gibsons while Shirl served the burgers.

  “If I was drunk enough this would almost taste like meat,” Sol announced, chewing happily.

  “They are good,” Shirl said. Andy nodded agreement. She finished the burger quickly and soaked up the juice with a scrap of weedcracker, then sipped at her drink. The trouble on the way home with the water already seemed far distant. What was it the woman had said was wrong with the child?

  “Do you know what ‘kwash’ is?” she asked.

  Andy shrugged. “Some kind of disease, that’s all I know. Why do you ask?”

  “There was a woman next to me in line for the water, I was talking to her. She had a little boy with her who was sick with this kwash. I don’t think she should have had him out in the rain, sick like that. And I was wondering if it was catching.”

  “That you can forget about,” Sol said. ” ‘Kwash’ is short for ‘kwashiorkor.’ If, in the interest of good health, you watched the medical programs like I do, or opened a book, you would know all about it. You can’t catch it because it’s a deficiency disease like beriberi.”

  “I never heard of that either,” Shirl said.

  “There’s not so much of that, but there’s plenty of kwash. It comes from not eating enough protein. They used to have it only in Africa but now they got it right across the whole U.S. Isn’t that great? There’s no meat around, lentils and soybeans cost too much, so the mamas stuff the kids with weedcrackers and candy, whatever is cheap… .”

  The light bulb flickered, then went out. Sol felt his way across the room and found a switch in the maze of wiring on top of the refrigerator. A dim bulb lit up, connected to his batteries.

  “Needs a charge,” he said, “but it can wait until morning. You shouldn’t exercise after eating, bad for the circulation and digestion.”

  “I’m sure glad you’re here, Doctor,” Andy said. “I need some medical advice. I’ve got this trouble. You see—everything I eat goes to my stomach. …”

  “Very funny, Mr. Wiseguy. Shirl, I don’t see how you put up with this joker.”

  They all felt better after the meal and they talked for a while, until Sol announced he was turning off the light to save the juice in the batteries. The small bricks of sea coal had burned to ash and the room was growing cold. They said good night and Andy went in first to get his flashlight; their room was even colder than the other.

  “I’m going to bed,” Shirl said. “I’m not really tired, but it’s the only way to keep warm.”

  Andy flicked the overhead light switch uselessly. “The current is still off and there are some things I have to do. What is it—a week now since we had any electricity in the evening?”

  “Let me get into bed and I’ll work the flash for you—will that be all right?”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  He opened his notepad on top of the dresser, laid one of the reusable forms next to it, then began copying information into the report. With his left hand he kept a slow and regular squeezing on the flashlight that produced steady illumination. The city was quiet tonight with the people driven from the streets by the cold and the rain; the whir of the tiny generator and the occasional squeak of the stylo on plastic sounded unnaturally loud. There was enough light from the flash for Shirl to get undressed by. She shivered when she took off her outer clothes and quickly pulled on heavy winter pajamas, a much-darned pair of socks she used for sleeping in, then put her heavy sweater on top. The sheets were cold and damp; they hadn’t been changed since the water shortage, though she did try to air them out as often as she could. Her cheeks were damp as well, as damp as the sheets were when she put her fingertips up to touch them, and she realized that she was

  crying. She tried not to sniffle and bother Andy. He was doing his best, wasn’t he? Doing everything that it was possible to do. Yes, it had been a lot different before she came here, an easy life, good food and a warm room, and her own bodyguard, Tab, when she went out. And all she had to do was sleep with him a couple of times a week. She had hated it, even the touch of his hands, but at least it had been quick. Having Andy in bed was different and good and she wished that he were there right now. She shivered again and wished she could stop crying.

  Winter

  New York City trembled on the brink of disaster. Every locked warehouse was a nucleus of dissent, surrounded by crowds who were hungry and afraid and searching for someone to blame. Their anger incited them to riot, and the food riots turned to water riots and then to looting wherever this was possible. The police fought back, only the thinnest of barriers between angry protest and bloody chaos.

  At first nightsticks and weighted clubs stopped the trouble, and when this failed gas dispersed the crowd. The tension grew, since the people who fled only reassembled again in a different place. The solid jets of water from the riot trucks stopped them easily when they tried to break into the welfare stations, but there were not enough trucks, nor was there more water to be had once they had pumped dry their tanks. The Health Department had forbidden the use of river water: it would have been like spraying poison. The little water that was available was badly needed for the fires that were springing up throughout the city. With the streets blocked in many places the firefighting equipment could not get through and the trucks were forced to make long detours. Some of the fires

  were spreading and by noon all of the equipment had been committed and was in use.

  The first gun was fired a few minutes past twelve on the morning of December 21st, by a Welfare Department guard who killed a man who had broken open a window of the Tompkins Square food depot and had tried to climb in. This was the first but not the last shot fired—nor was it the last person to be killed.

  Flying wire sealed off some of the trouble areas, but there was only a limited supply of it. When it ran out the copters fluttered helplessly over the surging streets and acted as aerial observation posts for the police, finding the places where reserves were sorely needed. It was a fruitless labor because there were no reserves; everyone was in the front line.

  After the first conflict nothing else made a strong impression on Andy. For the rest of the day and most of the night, he along with every other policeman in the city was braving violence and giving violence to restore law and order to a city torn by battle. The only rest he had was after he had fallen victim to his own gas and had managed to make his way to the Department of Hospitals ambulance for. treatment. An orderly washed out his eyes and gave him a tablet to counteract the gut-tearing nausea. He lay on one of the stretchers inside, clutching his helmet, bombs, and club to his chest while he recovered. The ambulance driver sat on another stretcher by the door, armed with a .30-caliber carbine, to discourage anyone from too great an interest in the ambulance or its valuable surgical contents. Andy would like to have lain there longer, but the cold mist was rolling in through the open doorway, and he began to shiver so hard that his teeth shook together. It was difficult to drag himself to his feet and climb to the ground, yet once he was moving he felt a little better—and warmer. The attack had been broken up and he moved slowly to join the nearest cluster of blue-coated figures, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor of his clothes.

  From this point on, the fatigue never left him and he had memories only of shouting faces, running feet, the sound of shots, screams, the thud of gas grenades. Of something unseen that had been thrown at him and hit the back of his hand and raised an immense bruise.

  By nightfall it was raining, a cold downpour mixed with sleet, and it was this and exhaustion that drove the people from the streets, not the police. Yet when the crowds were gone the police found that their work was just beginning. Gaping windows and broken doorways had to be guarded until they could be repaired, the injured had to be found and brought in for treatment, while the Fire Department needed aid in halting the countless fires. This went on through the night and at dawn Andy found himself dumped on a bench in the precinct, hearing his name being called off from a list by Lieutenant Grassioli.

  “And that’s all that can be spared,” the lieutenant added. “You men draw rations before you leave and turn in your riot equipment. I want you all back here at eighteen-hundred and I don’t want excuses. Our troubles aren’t over yet.”

  Sometime during the night the rain had stopped. The rising sun cast long shadows down the crosstown streets, putting a golden sheen on the wet, black pavement. A burned-out brownstone was still smoking and Andy picked his way through the charred wreckage that littered the street in front of it. On the corner of Seventh Avenue was the crushed wreckage of two pedicabs, already stripped of any usable parts, and a few feet farther on, the huddled body of a man. He might be asleep, but when Andy passed, the upturned face gave violent evidence that the man was dead. He walked on, ignoring it. The Department of Sanitation would be collecting only corpses today.

  The first cavemen were coming out of the subway entrance, blinking at the light. During the summer everyone laughed at the cavemen—the people whom Welfare had assigned to living

  quarters in the stations of the now-silent subways. But as the cold weather approached the laughter was replaced by envy. Perhaps it was filthy down there, dusty, dark, but there were always a few electric heaters turned on. They weren’t living in luxury, but at least Welfare didn’t let them freeze. Andy turned into his own block.

  Going up the stairs in his building, he trod heavily on some of the sleepers but was too fatigued to care—or even notice. He had trouble fumbling his key into the lock and Sol heard him and came to open it.

  “I just made some soup,” Sol said. “You timed it perfectly.”

  Andy pulled the broken remains of some weedcrackers from his coat pocket and spilled them onto the table.

  “Been stealing food?” Sol asked, picking up a piece and nibbling on it. “I thought no grub was being given out for two more days?”

  “Police ration.”

  “Only fair. You can’t beat up the citizenry on an empty stomach. I’ll throw some of these into the soup, give it some body. I guess you didn’t see TV yesterday so you wouldn’t know about all the fun and games in Congress. Things are really jumping… .”

  “Is Shirl awake yet?” Andy asked, shucking out of his coat and dropping heavily into a chair.

  Sol was silent a moment, then he said slowly, “She’s not here.”

  Andy yawned. “It’s plenty early to go out. Why?”

  “Not today, Andy.” Sol stirred the soup with his back turned. “She went out yesterday, a couple of hours after you did. She’s not back yet.”

  “You mean she was out all the time during the riots—and last night too? What did you do?” He sat upright, his bone-weariness forgotten.

  “What could I do? Go out and get myself trampled to death like the rest of the old fogies? I bet she’s all right. She probably saw all the trouble and decided to stay with a friend instead of coming back here.”

  “What friend? What are you talking about? I have to go find her.”

  “Sit!” Sol ordered. “What can you do out there? Have some soup and get some sleep, that’s the best thing you can do. She’ll be okay. I know it,” he added reluctantly.

  “What do you know, Sol?” Andy took him by the shoulders, half turning him from the stove.

  “Don’t handle the merchandise!” Sol shouted, pushing the hand away. Then, in a quieter voice: “All I know is she just didn’t go out of here for nothing, she had a reason. She had her old coat on, but I could see what looked like a real nifty dress underneath. And nylon stockings. A fortune on her legs. And when she said so long I saw she had lots of makeup on.”

  “Sol—what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m not trying—I’m saying. She was dressed for visiting, not for shopping, like she was on the way out to see someone. Her old man, maybe, she could be visiting him.”

  “Why should she want to see him?”

  “You tell me? You two had a fight, didn’t you? Maybe she went away for a while to cool off.”

  “A fight… I guess so.” Andy dropped back into the chair, squeezing his forehead with his palms. Had it only been last night? No, the night before last. It seemed like a hundred years since they had had that stupid argument. But they were bickering so much these days. One more fight shouldn’t make any difference. He looked up with sudden fear. “She didn’t take her things—anything with her?” he asked.

  “Just a little bag,” Sol said, and put a steaming bowl on the table in front of Andy. “Eat up. I’ll pour one for myself.” Then, “She’ll be back.”

  Andy was almost too tired to argue—and what could be said? He spooned the soup automatically, then realized as he tasted it that he was very hungry. He ate with his elbow on the table, his free hand supporting his head.

  “You should have heard the speeches in the Senate yesterday,” Sol said. “Funniest show on Earth. They’re trying to push this Emergency Bill through—some emergency, it’s only been a hundred years in the making—and you should hear them talking all around the little points and not mentioning the big ones.” His voice settled into a rich Southern accent. “Faced by dire straits, we propose a survey of all the ee-mence riches of this the greatest ee-luvial basin, the delta, suh, of the mightiest of rivers, the Mississippi. Dikes and drains, suh, science, suh, and you will have here the richest farmlands in the Western World!” Sol blew on his soup angrily. ” ‘Dikes’ is right—another finger in the dike. They’ve been over this ground a thousand times before. But does anyone mention out loud the sole and only reason for the Emergency Bill? They do not. After all these years they’re too chicken to come right out and tell the truth, so they got it hidden away in one of the little riders tacked onto the bottom.”

  “What are you talking about?” Andy asked, only half listening, still worrying about Shirl.

  “Birth control, that’s what. They are finally getting around to legalizing clinics that will be open to anyone—married or not—and making it a law that all mothers must be supplied with birth-control information. Boy, are we going to hear some howling when the bluenoses find out about that—and the Pope will really plotz!”

  “Not now, Sol, I’m tired. Did Shirl say anything about when she would be back?”

  “Just what I told you…” He stopped and listened to the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. They stopped and there was a light knocking on the door.

  Andy was there first, twisting at the knob, tearing the door open.

  “Shirl!” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, sure—I’m fine.”

  He held her to him, tightly, almost cutting off her breath. “With the riots—I didn’t know what to think,” he said. “I just came in a little while ago myself. Where have you been? What happened?”

  “I just wanted to get out for a while, that’s all.” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that funny smell?”

  He stepped away from her, anger welling up through the fatigue. “I caught some of my own puke gas and heaved up. It’s hard to get off. What do you mean that you wanted to get out for a while?”

  “Let me get my coat off.”

  Andy followed her into the other room and closed the door behind them. She was taking a pair of high-heeled shoes out of the bag she carried and putting them into the closet. “Well?” he said.

  “Just that, it’s not complicated. I was feeling trapped in here, with the shortages and the cold and everything, and never seeing you. And I felt bad about the fight we had. Nothing seemed to be going right. So I thought if I dressed up and went to one of the restaurants where I used to go, just to have a cup of coffee or something, I might feel better. A morale booster, you know.” She looked up at his cold face, then glanced quickly away.

  “Then what happened?” he asked.

  “I’m not in the witness box, Andy. Why the accusing tone?”

  He turned his back and looked out the window. “I’m not accusing you of anything, but you were out all night. How do you expect me to feel?”

  “Well, you know how bad it was yesterday, I was afraid to come back. I was up at Curly’s—”

  “The meateasy?”

  “Yes, but if you don’t eat anything it’s not expensive. It’s just the food that costs. I met some people I knew and we talked, they were going to a party and invited me and I went

  along. We were watching news about the riots on TV and no one wanted to go out, so the party just went on and on.” She paused. “That’s all.”

  “All?” An angry question, a dark suspicion.

  “That’s all,” she said, and her voice was now as cold as his.

  She turned her back to him and began to pull off her dress, and their words lay like a cold barrier between them. Andy dropped onto the bed and turned his back on her as well so that they were like strangers, even in the tiny room.

  Spring

  The funeral drew them together as nothing else had during the cold depths of the winter. It was a raw day, gusting wind and rain, but there was still a feeling that winter was on the way out. But it had been too long a winter for Sol and his cough had turned into a cold, the cold into pneumonia, and what can an old man do in a cold room without drugs in a winter that does not seem to end? Die, that was all, so he had died. They had forgotten their differences during his illness and Shirl had nursed him as best she could, but careful nursing does not cure pneumonia. The funeral had been as brief and cold as the day and in the early darkness they went back to the room. They had not been back half an hour before there was a quick rapping on the door. Shirl gasped. “The callboy. They can’t! You don’t have to work today.” “Don’t worry. Even Grassy wouldn’t go back on his word about a thing like this. And besides, that’s not the callboy’s knock.”

  “Maybe a friend of Sol’s who couldn’t get to the funeral.” She went to unlock the door and had to blink into the darkness of the hall for a moment before she recognized the man standing there.

  “Tab! It is you, isn’t it? Come in, don’t stand there. Andy, I told you about Tab my bodyguard… .”