"We'll never survive here. They'll use every conceivable weapon."
"But since there's no open break with the government yet, we could still presumably arrange for transportation facilities."
"To where?"
"Some spot in which we could weather the storm. What about Leffingwell's old hideout?"
"The units are still standing." Harry's son nodded. "Yes, that's a possibility. But what about food?"
"Grizek."
"What?"
"Friend of mine," Harry told him. "Look, we're going to have to work fast. And yet we've got to do it in a way that won't attract any attention; not even from the government. I suggest we set up an organizing committee and make plans." He frowned. "How much time do you think we have—a year or so?"
"Six months," his son hazarded.
"Four, at most," Wade said. "Haven't you been getting the full reports on those riots? Pretty soon they'll declare a state of national emergency and then nobody will be going anywhere."