Runaway World

Consequences

     An hour later, Susan set off in one of the hab-rovers to take the dead and injured back to New Philadelphia. The three soldiers who hadn't been killed instantly by Joe Badger were expected to survive so long as they got prompt medical treatment, but that left only two soldiers uninjured and they knew they'd be expected to remain at LaSalle, to keep an eye on the New Londoners. They let Susan drive the rover, therefore, confident that she wouldn't do anything stupid so long as they had her husband as a hostage.

     For the rest of the day Philip was almost catatonic with shock and grief. It was everything the others could do to get him out of his surface suit and back into the habitat where he sat in the chair Joe had been accustomed to use while holding the boy's tablet computer, as if it could somehow allow him to commune with his son's soul. The recreation room was still full of bloodstained rags where McLaglen had dressed Hayes and Bronson's wounds. The others cleared them away in an attempt to recreate a sense of normality, but the smell of blood still hung in the air and probably would for some time.

     As evening drew on, Philip seemed to come back to life a little, enough for him to acknowledge the presence of the others and give brief replies to their questions, although there was a haunted look in his eyes that Andrew suspected would never leave him. "What did I do wrong?" Philip asked, still staring down at Joe's tablet. Most people decorated their tablets with beautiful landscape scenery from before The Freeze or the faces of celebrities but Joe's tablet was plain and functional, as if a tribute to the boy's no nonsense approach to life.

     "I brought him up to be decent and respectful," Philip continued, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I brought him up to be a useful member of society. An asset to the community. Where did I go wrong? What did I do wrong?"

     No-one else could think of anything to say in reply, but once again the silence pulled at Andrew, compelling him to speak even though he was wary of bringing himself to Philip's attention in case it reminded him of who had shot his son. He sensed that the man's seemingly broken demeanour concealed a terrifying capacity for violence, and that any casual word might be the trigger that would release it. Nevertheless, a line from an old song came to him. Silence like a cancer grows. He now sensed the truth of it like never before.

     Everyone was in the room at the moment. All the remaining New Londoners and the two remaining soldiers, all silently watching Philip as if they could offer consolation by some strange form of telepathy. They would intervene if Philip suddenly threw himself at him with murderous intent, Andrew knew. It gave him the courage to speak, but he still felt himself tensing up, ready to leap away from the other man if his words had an unintended effect.

     "He thought he was saving lives," he ventured cautiously. "He thought he had no choice."

     Philip turned his head to look at him, and the gratitude in his eyes almost broke Andrew's heart. Then Philip looked down again, though. "He tried to kill me," he said. "He was my own son and he tried to kill me."

     "He may have been just trying to keep you from interfering," suggested Andrew.

     Philip shook his head, though. "No, he was trying to kill me. I saw it in his eyes."

     He wouldn't have been able to see the boy's eyes in his dark helmet, Andrew knew, but he let the comment pass. "If it had just been you and him, he could have held you off with the machine gun," he said, "but there were two of us, on opposite sides of him. Just holding us off wasn't an option any more. In his mind, it was our lives versus a hundred thousand. Versus the whole human race. He probably thought it was heroic."

     "Heroic!" snarled Philip. Andrew tensed up in fear, but the other man remained sitting and glowering down at his son's tablet. "I want to know who put these ideas into his head. I never said The Return was a bad idea. Not like you." One eye turned to look across at Andrew, whose heart froze. "You were always telling anyone who would listen what a gamble it was."