Riddell gestured with an upraised arm. "Don't stand here arguing with me, Len. Go on home!"
The boy turned away, moved slowly back toward town. Riddell watched him for a moment, then walked rapidly toward Northburg and the challenge there.
The road was still in good shape, despite pitted craters here and there, despite an occasional slagheap where a stray blast of atomfire had seared the hillside and sent molten rock spilling down on the highway. Grass was pushing up in the slagheaps, the blasted trees were being replaced by timid saplings, the farms along the way were starting to look like farms again. America was returning to life.
Two hours of war, Riddell thought for the thousandth time. Just two hours of guided ICBMs overhead and a world is destroyed. But we're coming back, now.
A feeling of hatred welled up in him. Hatred for David Barr, the madman who had inflamed the neighboring town of Northburg with dreams of conquest. Who now threatened to bring war back into a world already ruined by war.
Yet Riddell realized dismally that hatred was not the solution. The world was too battered for more hatred. He had vowed there would be no more fighting—but how else could you cope with a man who would enslave you?
There had to be another way to meet the forces of evil without descending to evil yourself.
As he walked through the quiet countryside, Riddell was plagued by the idea that had touched off the nightmare of 1973: Get them before they can get you.
It wasn't the answer he wanted.