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Taylor sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. The warmkitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not havingto go to work. This was his Rest Period, the first for a long time, andhe was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighing withcontentment."What is it?" Mary said, from the stove."They pasted Moscow again last night." Taylor nodded his head inapproval. "Gave it a real pounding. One of those R-H bombs. It's abouttime."He nodded again, feeling the full comfort of the kitchen, the presenceof his plump, attractive wife, the breakfast dishes and coffee. This wasrelaxation. And the war news was good, good and satisfying. He couldfeel a justifiable glow at the news, a sense of pride and personalaccomplishment. After all, he was an integral part of the war program,not just another factory worker lugging a cart of scrap, but atechnician, one of those who designed and planned the nerve-trunk of thewar."It says they have the new subs almost perfected. Wait until they get_those_ going." He smacked his lips with anticipation. "When they startshelling from underwater, the Soviets are sure going to be surprised.""They're doing a wonderful job," Mary agreed vaguely. "Do you know whatwe saw today? Our team is getting a leady to show to the schoolchildren. I saw the leady, but only for a moment. It's good for thechildren to see what their contributions are going for, don't youthink?"She looked around at him."A leady," Taylor murmured. He put the newspaper slowly down. "Well,make sure it's decontaminated properly. We don't want to take anychances.""Oh, they always bathe them when they're brought down from the surface,"Mary said. "They wouldn't think of letting them down without the bath.Would they?" She hesitated, thinking back. "Don, you know, it makes meremember--"He nodded. "I know." * * * * *He knew what she was thinking. Once in the very first weeks of the war,before everyone had been evacuated from the surface, they had seen ahospital train discharging the wounded, people who had been showeredwith sleet. He remembered the way they had looked, the expression ontheir faces, or as much of their faces as was left. It had not been apleasant sight.There had been a lot of that at first, in the early days before thetransfer to undersurface was complete. There had been a lot, and ithadn't been very difficult to come across it.Taylor looked up at his wife. She was thinking too much about it, thelast few months. They all were."Forget it," he said. "It's all in the past. There isn't anybody upthere now but the leadys, and they don't mind.""But just the same, I hope they're careful when they let one of themdown here. If one were still hot--"He laughed, pushing himself away from the table. "Forget it. This is awonderful moment; I'll be home for the next two shifts. Nothing to dobut sit around and take things easy. Maybe we can take in a show. Okay?""A show? Do we have to? I don't like to look at all the destruction, theruins. Sometimes I see some place I remember, like San Francisco. Theyshowed a shot of San Francisco, the bridge broken and fallen in thewater, and I got upset. I don't like to watch.""But don't you want to know what's going on? No human beings are gettinghurt, you know.""But it's so awful!" Her face was set and strained. "Please, no, Don."Don Taylor picked up his newspaper sullenly. "All right, but thereisn't a hell of a lot else to do. And don't forget, _their_ cities aregetting it even worse."
| ISBN-13 | 9781976893674 |
|---|---|
| ISBN-10 | 1976893674 |
| Weight | 0.33 Pounds |
| Dimensions | 11.00 x 8.50 x 0.09 In |
| List Price | $5.25 |
| Format | Paperback |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Pages | 38 pages |
| Publisher | |
| Published On | 2018-01-14 |
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