Passing through the hall, they entered the door leading to the kitchen. There were huge electric stoves and further on, wheat and sugar sacks piled ceiling high. In a large bin they found various canned goods—the Conquerors' personal food supply. The stoves worked, and Adele found an opener and pots in the glare of the unshaded light bulbs. They ate quickly; soup, meat, several cans of condensed milk. Then they left the basement and walked into the balmy evening air.
On the grassy spot in front of the Administration Building they loved each other desperately. Afterwards, they spoke of God, of what they believed would come after death, and were comforted. But they did not talk of what would happen to the others—that was too painful for words.
Before he fell asleep, with Adele breathing regularly beside him, he once again strained his ears to hear something—anything—from outside the wall. Except for the ever-present hum of the oil-fed electric generators in the Administration Building, there was nothing. Not the bark of a dog or the scream of a cat or the clash of inanimate objects. Even the wind was dead. But he was too exhausted for fear, and slipped quickly into sleep. Once during the night, he awoke and raised his head to listen. When he lay back, there was a thought in his mind both terrible and full of hope.
Adele awakened him in the morning. From the sun he could tell that it was past the time for the first meal. They went to the feeding hall and ate; then returned to the grassy spot. This time they found little to speak of and sat silently, watching the gate. They watched until the sun dipped low and shadows engulfed the silent buildings. Then they saw the first trainees slipping toward the feeding hall; the women moving toward the men's section in the need for comfort and protection.
When George and Adele arrived in the kitchen, all the Americans were there. The women cooked the meal and whispered among themselves. The men sat talking, following the women with their eyes, trying to forget despair and certain death.
They finished eating and sat quietly at the tables, husbands reunited with wives, boys and girls whispering to each other, all unwilling to return to the rooms, George spoke his thoughts.
It was hard to speak aloud; he had kept his thoughts to himself for so very long, but he managed to speak quietly and calmly. He reminded them of the tactics the aliens had used to ensure obedience, how they had held out the promise of freedom as a reward for conformity. How, backed by the fear and terror they were able to inspire with their drastic punishments, they were able to enslave all the Americans and keep them toeing the mark. How they had probably felt secure enough in their conquest of the minds and bodies of their captives to leave the Earth in the hands of a few Punitives and a host of electronic gadgets. He told them, too, that the fact that no help had arrived despite the radio messages held the promise that the conquerors had no interest in Earth any longer; he assumed that they were busy elsewhere, or had merely conquered for the sheer joy of it, or that they lost interest ... any reason would suffice. The important thing was that they they were free again. Free to live and laugh, to love and to hope ... and to prepare a defense should the need arise.
When he finished, even Adele looked at him with disbelief. But they all followed him to the Administration Building and one of the young men seated himself at the radio. Filling the room and overflowing into the hall, they waited. The youth knew his radios and manipulated the dials skillfully, but there was nothing except the crackle of static. With dread and hope mingled together, George listened to the empty airwaves—to the messages sent out on the sending set, and again to the barren, static response. Then he turned to Adele and smiled weakly. "We've more than Noah had," he said, and held her trembling hand.
It was not until two days passed and the fuel for the generators had been exhausted that the first search party ventured into the city. The report was one word ringing hollowly in the feeding hall. "Nothing."