I don't want to take any
chances."

"No, of course not. How thick do you think the floor is?"

"Haven't the least idea. Plenty thick, I would guess. Those films
would have to be well-buried, to shield them from radioactivity.
We can expect that it will take some time."

"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The helicopter turned and went windmilling away, over what had
been the Golden Triangle, down the Ohio. Altamont went back to
the little concrete bunker and sat down, lighting his pipe.
Murray Hughes and his four riflemen spread out, one circling
around the glazed butte that had been the Cathedral of Learning,
another climbing to the top of the old Library, and the others
taking positions to the south and east.

Altamont sat in silence, smoking his pipe and trying to form some
conception of the wealth under that concrete floor.

It was no use.

Jim Loudons probably understood a little more clearly what those
books would mean to the world of today, and what they could do
toward shaping the world of the future.

There was a library at Fort Ridgeway, and it was an excellent one ...
for its purpose. In 1996, when the rockets had come crashing
down, it had contained the cream of the world's technical
knowledge--and very little else. There was only a little fiction,
a few books of ideas, just enough to give the survivors a
tantalizing glimpse of the world of their fathers.

But now....

* * * * *

A rifle banged to the south and east, and banged again. Either
Murray Hughes or Birdy Edwards: it was one of the two hunting
rifles from the helicopter.

On the heels of the reports, they heard a voice shouting,
"Scowrers! A lot of them, coming from up the river!"

A moment later, there was a light whip-crack of one of the
muzzleloaders, from the top of the old Carnegie Library, and
Altamont could see a wisp of grey-white smoke drifting away from
where it had been fired.

Altamont jumped to his feet and raced for the radio, picking it
up and bring it to the bunker.

Tenant Jones, old Reader Rawson, and Verner Hughes had caught up
their rifles. The Tenant was shouting. "Come on in! Everybody,
come on in!"

The boy on top of the library began scrambling down. Another came
running from the direction of the half-demolished Cathedral of
Learning, a third from the baseball field that had served as
Altamont's point of reference the afternoon before.

The fourth, Murray Hugh