“Their lines are all down.”
“Western Union?”
“It’s the same with them. Repair crews are on their way here but it will take time. The valley’s completely cut off from communication.”
“For how long?”
“Listen, Penny, you know as much about it as I do. The airfields are under water.”
“How about the roads?”
“Open only part of the way.”
Completely discouraged, Penny sagged into a chair by the ticket counter. She was wet through, plastered with mud, hungry, and tired enough to collapse. After all of her work and suffering, her efforts had been in vain. By morning experienced city reporters and photographers would swarm into the valley. Her scoop would be no scoop at all.
“Oh, brace up,” Quigley encouraged carelessly.
“But I’ve failed Dad. It would mean a lot to him to get an exclusive story of this disaster. I gave him my promise I’d send the facts—now I’ve failed.”