That got them. That, they understood. If a guy didn't scram from a hot spot when he could ... well, then, he couldn't scram in the first place. So, the warden was stuck, just like they were.
Later, perhaps, a few of them might figure out why.
"Now, let's have no more interruptions," Halloran said. "I don't think there's any need to go. Neither does the doc, here, or the rabbi. We're all staying—because the desert to the south of us has stopped the spread of this dust and it seems it can't cross the rivers, either. So, we're safe enough."
"But that's not true," groaned Lansing.
Court glanced at him. "Would you tell them different?" he said coldly.
"No—"
Halloran said, "Well, that's that. Life is a little difficult outside and so the people out there want to try to get to Mars. Believe me, that's a trip I want someone else to make first. But if they think life will be easier on those deserts—why, let them go. But God help them—they'll need it."
He paused. Knox tried to catch Lansing's eye, but the scientist's face was blank, unseeing.
"What do we do?" This voice was not hysterical, just seriously questioning.
"You should do darned well. Life should be easy enough for you. You've got your own farms, your livestock, laundry, hospital, shops—everything a man can need. So, take over and run things to suit yourselves."