Rolltown

XII

In all, the meeting of the assembly took several hours and Bat Hardin could see that they wouldn’t be getting away that day. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like giving the vigilantes under Don Caesar the extra time to consolidate their forces and to prepare for whatever trouble they had in mind against New Woodstock.

But there was nothing for it. Even after the assembly had adjourned, there was considerable to be done in the breakaway of the hundred mobile homes that had decided to return to the States. And when all business had been handled, there was still the personal relationships that had in some instances been abuilding for years. Artists, of whatever sort, have a tendency toward emotionalism, and many a tear was shed, many a kiss exchanged. In fact, many a drink was knocked back after an appropriate toast. Bat had a sneaking suspicion that the hundred defectors wouldn’t return in a body to McAllen, Texas, but would straggle back.

In the old days, folk who lived in what were then trailers, moved about as individuals. It wasn’t until after the Second World War that the first beginnings of the mobile towns and cities began to manifest themselves. They started, possibly, as the trailer clubs, groups of compatible persons who would get together during vacations and take a tour, in company, to here, there, or the other place, usually to some National Park or other attraction. At that same time, the large trailer sites were developing where people lived in supposedly mobile homes but who, in actuality, never moved or, at least, seldom did. Indeed, many of the so-called mobile homes of that day were incapable of being moved, their wheels long since gone, or, at least, their tires flat and their axles rusting away.

The permanent mobile home parks still remained, developed considerably, with enlarged facilities and with governmental systems. And these were largely populated with the more elderly and sedentary types. They were to be found in all parts of the country, in fact in all parts of North America, but largely in the climatic and scenically desirable areas. They were strung out along the West Coast from Washington to Baja California, strung out along both Floridian coasts and far up into Georgia and the Carolinas and along the Gulf coast to Brownsville, Texas, and beyond. The high altitudes of Arizona and New Mexico were dotted everywhere with them and up into Colorado and Utah and, in the United States proper, as far north as Glacier National Park.

But it was the mobile town which actually kept on the move that was really the innovation of the new post-industrial state. Where in the past the trailer clubs had taken to the road for a few weeks at a time during the vacation periods, now, with the coming of NIT, large elements of the population were on what amounted to permanent vacation. And those with itchy feet kept on all but constant move. Oh, they might stop and pause, here or there, whenever the attraction was such that a prolonged stay seemed desirable, but largely they kept on the move. And while they had begun with, at most, a few dozen campers, trailers and mobile homes, the numbers increased and eventually what had been trailer clubs became mobile villages, then towns, then cities.

And by the looks of things the end was not yet in sight. Certainly, a city of fifty thousand was no longer maximum. Each year that went by they became larger until sometimes Bat Hardin wondered if the whole nation would take to wheels.

But that of course was ridiculous. The high rise pseudo-cities were also on the increase, inhabited by people who desired urban life of the old type. Persons who wanted the theatres, the restaurants and nightclubs, the museums, the more extensive shopping facilities that mobile towns could never enjoy. Not all Americans by any means had the travel itch. Many a present-day American had descended from ancestors who had come from the ancient, crowded medieval cities, not to speak of the ghettos, of Europe and, under pressure, came to the New World only to immediately duplicate their former environment.

Bat headed in the direction of Sam Prager’s home and repair shop.

Sam was seated, sprawled rather, before his vehicles, in the same folding chair he had occupied at the assembly shortly before. He was scowling in thought.

Bat said, “Having second thoughts about going on?”

The other stirred. “No, not really. But I must say, I didn’t expect to run into a hassle such as this, so soon, anyway.”

“Nor did I,” Bat admitted. “I didn’t know you were a Canadian, Sam.”

“No particular reason to mention the fact. There’s precious little difference between a Canadian such as myself and a Yankee such as you, these days.”

Bat had to laugh. “Calling me a Yankee is on the side of stretching a point. I’m getting called just about everything today, starting with gringo this morning. But I’m somewhat surprised that you’re not with one of the Canadian mobile towns.”

Sam shrugged. “Easier to find work in a Yank town. No competition. Not many of you have to work. You have NIT. We haven’t come to that, as yet at least, in Canada. Knock on wood.”

Bat looked at him questioningly. “You don’t approve of NIT?”

“Nope. Makes bums of people. Man was created to make his bread by the sweat of his brow.”

Actually, Bat Hardin largely agreed with him, but he said, “The thing is, man doesn’t eat bread much, any more. We’re calorie conscious.”

Sam snorted at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, and I read an interesting discussion on it the other day. The idea was that man has taken his full career to get to the point where he can produce an abundance with a minimum of labor. It took the whole human race a million years and more to get here. Along the line, hundreds of thousands, millions of our ancestors contributed. Fire was discovered by some, agriculture by others, domestication of animals by others, ceramics, the use of metals, the first simple sciences by still others. Over the centuries, this ancestor and that added his contribution, great or small, to man’s accumulating knowledge. Finally, we’ve arrived at the point where we have abundance. A man who works today, sitting before some unbelievably complicated automatic machinery, supposedly producing hundreds of thousands of units of this commodity or that, isn’t actually producing all that product himself. It is the human race, back through the centuries, that is producing it. And thus the product is the common heritage of us all. If we have gotten to the point where all of us need not work, are unneeded, it is not the fault of the individual that he doesn’t participate in our agriculture or industry. But still, at least a basic living is his heritage.”

Sam took him in sceptically. “It’s a great theory. Do you believe it?”

Bat said, grinning sourly, “Well, no. Actually, I think you’re right. A man should work. Which brings us to the point. Did you finish repairing my phone screen?”

Sam stood up and turned toward the door of his combined home and shop. “Yeah. I had to put in an entire new unit, Bat. You going to pay for it, or should I bill the town?”

“Just to speed things up, I’ll pay you. I’ll take the bill to Armanruder later. He’s too busy now. I know you work on a limited budget and can probably use the credit right away.”

“That I can. Come on in, Bat.”

Bat Hardin followed the electronic repairman into his shop. Edith Prager didn’t seem to be around; probably up in the living quarters, Bat decided, getting ready to leave.

Sam Prager had a licensed credit exchanger attached to his TV phone screen as a result of his trade. Bat Hardin put his pocket phone, credit card on the screen and his thumbprint on the square at the screen’s side and looked at Sam.

Sam said, “Twenty-three pseudo-dollars and fifty cents.”

Bat said into the screen, “Please credit to Sam Prager twenty-three pseudo-dollars and fifty cents from my balance.”

The screen said, “Transaction completed.”

Bat took up his phone and returned it to his pocket. He said to Sam, “Do you have a gun?”

Sam said, “Yes. A carbine. I thought we’d possibly be running into deer, wild pig and that sort of thing down in Central and South America.”

“Does Edith drive?”

“Sure.”

“I suggest that when we take off, you let her drive and you sit next to her with the carbine.”

Sam hissed a low whistle. “You really expect trouble, don’t you, Bat?”

Bat didn’t want to overly alarm the town. He said, “Not necessarily, but there’s no harm in being ready. If anybody does take a shot at us, I’d like to see an immediate response big enough to set them back on their heels. If you had to take the time to stop your car and hustle back into the interior of your home to find your gun, then load it, then dash to some point where you could return the fire, the whole thing might be over before you got into the action. If you’re sitting up there in front, gun on lap, you’ll blast back at him before the echo of his own shot has faded.”

“Makes sense,” Sam nodded.

“See you, Sam.”

“So long, Bat.”

Bat started in the direction of Dean Armanruder’s home, thinking about it. The instructions he had just given Sam Prager had come to him on the spur of the moment but the more he considered it, the more he liked the idea.

Armanruder was standing before his mobile mansion talking to Doc Barnes. Bat came up and stood off a few yards until the two older men became aware of his presence.

Barnes said, “Bat?”

Bat came forward and said, “I think it might be a good idea if you’d give me carte blanche on organizing the line of march tomorrow.”

“How’s that, Hardin?” the former magnate said.

“Well, I’ve got a double motive. First, I think common sense dictates that we take off from Linares as ready for trouble as we can be, even though it doesn’t materialize. We want no stragglers, for one thing. I’m of the opinion that if a mobile home breaks down between here and the Pan American Highway, which should be safe, it should be abandoned and its inhabitants taken up to go on with us.”

Doc Barnes said slowly, “I doubt if many of our people would simply leave their homes right next to the highway, Bat.”

Bat fixed his eyes on him. “Doc, I feel so strongly that nobody should be left behind that I suggest that if it becomes necessary to abandon one of our homes, or even more, that the owners be recompensed out of the New Woodstock town funds.”

Dean Armanruder puffed up his cheeks. “That becomes quite a drain on the treasury, Hardin. And it’s already bare as a result of having to pay off the hundred homes that are turning back for their share of the community property.”

Bat said doggedly, “Under the circumstances, we can’t let anyone fall behind. Probably, we’ll all get through to the Pan American Highway. But a breakdown can always happen and I’m certainly not in favor of all of us stopping and remaining indefinitely until repairs are completed. Our best chance is to push on as fast as possible. If we stopped, up there in the hills, we’d be sitting ducks for any snipers, or whatever.”

“Ummm,” Armanruder said. “And you say you had a double motive?”

“Sir, usually when a mobile town moves, it proceeds more or less haphazardly. When you start off in the morning, everybody knows the destination. So some start early, some take off in small groups, some lag behind. Sometimes, units lag behind for days. All right. I think that tomorrow New Woodstock should be a veritable hedgehog. Women driving, those men who possess guns sitting next to them, ready for action. I think we should drive almost bumper-to-bumper, looking for any trouble, and ready for it if it materializes.”

Doc Barnes muttered, “Sounds like a confounded military convoy.”

Bat said softly, “It is.”

Dean Armanruder was thinking about it, unhappily.

Bat said, “I’d like to put this on the community phone. You see, I suspect we have a leak. Ordinarily, our community phone wouldn’t be tapped by outsiders. But I suspect that anything that goes over it is forwarded to Don Caesar, or whoever. If so, then they’ll pick up this move of ours and perhaps our very readiness will dissuade them.”

Armanruder was taken aback. “A leak? What in the world do you mean by that?”

“I mean that Don Caesar’s men were tipped off that I was coming up that road this morning. On top of that, my pocket phone was taken from me by the kidnappers but was sitting on my table when I returned. I suspect that they were trying to throw a scare into me, showing how efficient they were. And I doubt if a complete stranger to New Woodstock could have done it. He wouldn’t have known where my home was parked and he would have been spotted wandering through the town, even if he did know.”

“That sounds fantastic,” Doc Barnes said.

Bat looked in his direction. “Got any other explanation, Doc?”

“Why, no.”

Armanruder said, “All right, all right. You’re the police officer. So far as I’m concerned, you can make any arrangement you wish pertaining to our so-called order of march tomorrow. Go into my office, if you wish, and use the desk phone there. You’ll be more comfortable.”

Bat nodded and said, “One other thing. I suggest we make all preliminary arrangements for leaving tonight and that we roll at first flush of dawn. These people confronting us#longdash#if they’re confronting us#longdash#are not professional military. I doubt if they’re very well organized. Civilians lack discipline. We might catch them unawares and be completely through the mountains while they’re still comfortably in their beds.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Armanruder admitted. “Notify the town to that effect, Hardin.”

But Bat shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t do. We’ll have to pass that on by word of mouth, not put it on the air. That might tip them off, if they have some way of tapping our communications.”

“How about this leak of yours?” Doctor Barnes demanded. “If there is such a traitor among us, he’ll let them know.”

Bat nodded again. “Of course. And, if so, then we’ll know we’ve got a traitor and not just suspect it.”

“You handle it, Hardin,” Armanruder said.

“Thank you, sir,” Bat said. “I’ll put the assistant deputies to going from home to home explaining the situation.”

He went over to the major entrance of the Armanruder home and found the door open. He entered and headed for the office. He had noted that Dean Armanruder hadn’t bothered to put the matter to a vote with the executive committee, but had arbitrarily made the decision himself. Bat hadn’t liked that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to take the chance that the executive committee might overrule the idea. They weren’t men of action; he doubted if any of them had ever been in combat.

Nadine Paskov, in mini-shorts and sandals, and nothing else, and certainly no advertisement for expansion of the textile industry, met him in the hall.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, but making no move to shield her almost complete nudity.

Bat said, “Mr. Armanruder suggested that I use his office phone to issue a general plan for tomorrow’s move.”

“Tomorrow? Aren’t we leaving today? The sooner we get out of here the better I’ll like it.”

He shook his head. “It would seem safer if we left so early in the morning that most Mexicans would be in bed. In Mexico, mornings are chilly. No Mexican in his right mind arises before the sun is really up there.”

Suddenly, she put a hand on his arm. “Bat, is there really danger? I thought this was all a lot of nonsense.”

He said carefully, “There probably isn’t but the safe thing is to go ahead as though there is. The better prepared we are, the less danger there is.”

“Do you think these people might really shoot at us?”

Oh, oh.

Bat said carefully, “They might, but I’m not really expecting it. We just want to tread carefully, Miss Paskov.”

“Look, Bat, perhaps I should go back with the others to Texas.”

He cocked his head slightly to one side, gnawing his underlip. “Why don’t you?”

She took a breath. “It’s the best job I could ever get.”

“You could always go on NIT, if you couldn’t get another.”

“NIT, NIT! Poverty level, subsistence level income!”

“Well, it’s not as bad as all that. What they call poverty level nowadays would have been considered wealth a hundred years ago.”

“We’re not living a hundred years ago, we’re living now. Do you know what these clothes I’m wearing cost?”

He almost laughed at that, but held it in. She could have bought the shorts and sandals she wore in one of the swank snob shops in some northern city, and he had no idea what she might have had to pay for them, but excellent copies were available, certainly, in any ultra-market back in the States and probably right here in Mexico.

He said, “It’s your decision, Miss Paskov. You can go back with the others, or on with us.”

She said, urgently, “But you don’t understand. He’s written me into his will. I can’t quit.”

Bat was beginning to get impatient with her, aware of the need for him to go about his business. He said, “I don’t see how I can help you in your decision.”

She said, “Look. This mobile monstrosity will attract the most attention. It’s so big. If anybody shoots at our town, they’ll shoot at it first.”

“Well, not necessarily…”

She stepped closer to him, breathing deeply so that the pointed tips of her breasts jiggled. She said, “Yes, yes they will and everything is plastic. A bullet would go right through. Look, Bat, your car is armored, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He looked at her in sudden realization of what she was building up to.

She said urgently, looking him full in the eyes. “Bat, if you let me ride with you tomorrow, when we make camp tomorrow night, I’ll come to your trailer. I’ll… I’ll let you do anything you want to me. Anything. Or, if you’d rather have something special I’ll do anything to you you want, Bat. Anything at all.”

Bat shook his head and said wearily, “Tomorrow I’ll be riding out in front. If they’ve got something up their sleeves such as mining the road with dynamite, or dropping a neat little avalanche off some mountain peak, I’ll get it first. See here, Miss Paskov, if you’re afraid, I’d certainly give it a long thinking over before continuing all the way to South America. It’s like Ferd Zogbaum said at the assembly, we’re most likely going to run into bigger emergencies than this before we arrive.”

“But I’m in the old fool’s will.”

Bat couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He sidestepped her and continued on to the office. Christ, but she was a handsome woman. He snorted inwardly. He wouldn’t touch her with a long, long pole indeed.

He sat down at Armanruder’s desk, activated the TV phone and said into the screen, “New Woodstock, General Call.”

And then, “Please hear this. This is Bat Hardin, your town police officer. With the concurrence of Mr. Armanruder, I strongly make the following suggestions. That all of us who are armed, ride with our weapons in hand. Women should drive, when possible. If fired upon en route, return as heavy a barrage as possible. Even if you do not see an immediate target, fire in the direction from which the attack came. I want as large a display of firepower as we can muster. Even if you have a weapon of no larger caliber than a twenty-two, have it in hand. If you have only a shotgun, load it with as heavy a load as you have, either slugs or buckshot would be best. If you do not have a weapon, try to borrow one from those among us who have more than one.

“We shall proceed with several of our younger single men in the lead vehicles. If we run into a roadblock, it shall be their duty to clear it, even under fire. We’ll want volunteers for the lead vehicles. Please contact me. When we move, it will be bumper to bumper and no stragglers will be allowed. In case of breakdown, the mobile home involved must be abandoned and its occupants taken in by its neighbors. We’ll send mechanics back for it from the next Mexican city which has suitable garages. If the house is destroyed, the owner will later be recompensed from the town treasury. If there are any questions, please consult with either me or Mr. Armanruder.”

He paused for a moment, and could think of nothing else. He finished with, “For the time, that is all,” and flicked off the set.

He sat there for a moment, thinking out further plans, then came to his feet and left. He didn’t see Nadine Paskov on his way out, which was all right with him. She was possibly embarrassed after having promised to put out for him if he’d let her ride in his car, and then having him turn her down. He hated to have someone as nervous as she in the convoy. Fear is contagious. They needed to keep their cool, especially if they actually did run into grief.

He walked over to Al Castro’s house and found his deputy talking to Luke Robertson, standing in front of Al’s mobile home. They cut short their conversation at his approach. He gave them a quick rundown on his plans and they nodded agreement.

Bat said to Al Castro, “I’m going to let you take my usual place in the column. I’ll precede the town by about two kilometers. We’ll be tuned into each other all the time. You do the same as everyone else, that is, let Pamela drive and you have your Gyro-jet pistol ready in your hand. Keep in continual touch with both me and Luke, here. Luke, you bring up the rear. Have young Tom Benton riding with you. My phone and Al’s will be continually open to you; we’ll be on a three-way hookup.”

They were both nodding.

He bit his heavy lower lip and hesitated before adding, “Boys, once we’re under way, ignore anything from Mr. Armanruder or anybody else on the executive committee, until we get to the Pan American Highway. Once we’re underway, we’re in command.”

Al said, his voice slightly hesitant, “Have you checked this out with Armanruder?”

“No.”

Luke Robertson said, “And don’t. But we’re not in command, Bat, you are.”

“Yeah,” Al said.

“Okay,” Bat said. “There is no democracy when you’re in combat. If anything happens to me, you take over, Al.”

He gave them the information about their leaving at first dawn and told them to spread the word. They took off immediately on the task.

Bat turned and headed for the camper of Ferd Zogbaum. However, on the way he passed the mobile home of Diana Sward, and found Ferd there idly talking with the feminine artist who was cleaning paint brushes.

They gave him the standard friendly greeting and he explained the plans for the following morning to them.

Di said, “Look, if you can round up some kid or woman who can drive my electro-steamer, I’ll help ride shotgun on this convoy, Bat. I’ve got a deer rifle.”

“You can shoot?”

“Friend,” she said. “I told you I was the daughter of a Grafin. A German aristocrat is trained to ride and shoot as well as balance a teacup, the pinky correctly arched. I’ll lay you two to one I can zero-in on a bull’s eye just as well as you can, military training or not.”

“No bet,” Bat said. “I’ll take your word for it. I suggest that when we take off in the morning you station yourself behind some home such as Jim Blake’s. I have a sneaking suspicion that even if Jim has a gun he couldn’t hit the side of a barn from inside.”

Bat turned to Ferd and said, “Ferd, you’re cool when the bets are all down. I’d like you to take second place in the column behind Al Castro. If they hit us…”

Ferd said, “I don’t have a gun, Bat.”

“Oh.” Bat Hardin rubbed the side of his face. “Well, there are a lot of homes in New Woodstock with more than one. Some of our people are hunting buffs. Seek one out and…”

Ferd Zogbaum, looking into his face, said, “I can’t carry a gun, Bat.”

Bat scowled lack of understanding. He had seen Ferd Zogbaum in action the night before and couldn’t have done better in the clutch himself.

“How do you mean?”

Ferd Zogbaum’s lips were white. “I’m not allowed to carry a gun.”

Bat looked at him in amazement.

Ferd said, “I’m a felon, Bat.”