agreed Barbara. “I’m bigger than Joe is. Excuse me, Joe.”
“No argument. Boss. Hugh. I don’t like to emphasize it but I thought of this. You admit you’re tired. Not surprising, you’ve been on the go twenty-four hours. Do you mind my saying that I would feel more confident you could get us through if you would rest?”
“He’s right, Hugh.”
“Barbara, you haven’t had any sleep.”
“I don’t have to make decisions. But I’ll lie down and Joe can call me when he needs me. Okay, Joe?”
“Fine, Barbara.”
Hugh grinned. “Ganging up on me. All right, I’ll take a nap.”
A few minutes later he was in the bottom bunk in the men’s dormitory, his feet braced against the footboard. He closed his eyes and was asleep before he could get his worries organized.
Duke and Joe found that five of the bolts of the inner door were stuck. “We’ll let them be,” Joe decided. “We can always drift them back with a sledgehammer. Let’s crank back the armor door.”
The armor door, beyond the bolted door, was intended to withstand as much blast as the walls. It was cranked into place, or out, by a rack and gear driven by a long crank.
Joe could not budge it. Duke, heavier by forty pounds, put his weight on it—no results. Then they leaned on it together.
“Frozen.”
“Yeah.”
“Joe, you mentioned a sledgehammer.”
The young Negro frowned. “Duke, I would rather your father tried that. We could break the crank. Or a tooth on the rack.”
“The trouble is, we’re trying to crank a ton or so of door uphill, when it was meant to move on the level.”
“Yes. But this door always has been pesky.”
“What do we do?”
“We get at the escape tunnel.”
A block and tackle was fastened to a hook in the ceiling; the giant bottles were hauled out of the jumble and stacked, with Barbara and Karen heaving on the line and the men guiding them and then bracing them so that the stack could not roll. When the middle of the floor was clear they were able to get at the manhole cover to the tunnel. It was the massive, heavy-traffic sort and the hook in the ceiling was for lifting it.
It came up, creaking. It swung suddenly because of the 30° out-of-plumb of everything, taking a nick out of Duke’s shin and an oath out of Duke.
The hole was packed with provisions. The girls dug them out, Karen, being smaller, going down inside as they got deeper and Barbara stacking the stuff.
Karen stuck her head up. “Hey! Water Boss! There’s canned water here.”
“Well, goody for me!”
Joe said, “I had forgotten that. This hatch hasn’t been opened since the shelter was stocked.”
“Joe, shall I knock out the braces?”
“I’ll get ’em. You clear out the supplies. Duke, this isn’t armored the way the door is. Those braces hold a piece of boiler plate against the opening, with the supplies behind it and the manhole cover holding it all down. Inside the tunnel, at ten foot intervals, are walls of sandbags, and the mouth has dirt over it. Your father said the idea was to cofferdam a blast. Let it in, slow it down, a piece at a time.”
“We’ll find those sandbags jammed against that boiler plate.”
“If so, we’ll dig ’em out.”
“Why didn’t he use real armor?”
“He thought this was safer. You saw what happened to the doors. I would hate to have to pry loose a steel barrier in that tunnel.”
“I see. Joe, I’m sorry I ever called this place a ‘hole in the ground.’”
“Well, it isn’t. It’s a machine—a survival machine.”
“I’m through,” Karen announced. “Some gentleman help me up. Or you, Duke.”
“I’ll put the lid on with you under it.” Duke helped his sister to climb out.
Joe climbed down, flinching at the strain on his ribs. Dr. Livingstone had been superintending. Now he followed his friend into the hole, using Joe’s shoulders as a landing.
“Duke, if you’ll hand me that sledge—Stay out of the way, Doc. Get your tail
“No argument. Boss. Hugh. I don’t like to emphasize it but I thought of this. You admit you’re tired. Not surprising, you’ve been on the go twenty-four hours. Do you mind my saying that I would feel more confident you could get us through if you would rest?”
“He’s right, Hugh.”
“Barbara, you haven’t had any sleep.”
“I don’t have to make decisions. But I’ll lie down and Joe can call me when he needs me. Okay, Joe?”
“Fine, Barbara.”
Hugh grinned. “Ganging up on me. All right, I’ll take a nap.”
A few minutes later he was in the bottom bunk in the men’s dormitory, his feet braced against the footboard. He closed his eyes and was asleep before he could get his worries organized.
Duke and Joe found that five of the bolts of the inner door were stuck. “We’ll let them be,” Joe decided. “We can always drift them back with a sledgehammer. Let’s crank back the armor door.”
The armor door, beyond the bolted door, was intended to withstand as much blast as the walls. It was cranked into place, or out, by a rack and gear driven by a long crank.
Joe could not budge it. Duke, heavier by forty pounds, put his weight on it—no results. Then they leaned on it together.
“Frozen.”
“Yeah.”
“Joe, you mentioned a sledgehammer.”
The young Negro frowned. “Duke, I would rather your father tried that. We could break the crank. Or a tooth on the rack.”
“The trouble is, we’re trying to crank a ton or so of door uphill, when it was meant to move on the level.”
“Yes. But this door always has been pesky.”
“What do we do?”
“We get at the escape tunnel.”
A block and tackle was fastened to a hook in the ceiling; the giant bottles were hauled out of the jumble and stacked, with Barbara and Karen heaving on the line and the men guiding them and then bracing them so that the stack could not roll. When the middle of the floor was clear they were able to get at the manhole cover to the tunnel. It was the massive, heavy-traffic sort and the hook in the ceiling was for lifting it.
It came up, creaking. It swung suddenly because of the 30° out-of-plumb of everything, taking a nick out of Duke’s shin and an oath out of Duke.
The hole was packed with provisions. The girls dug them out, Karen, being smaller, going down inside as they got deeper and Barbara stacking the stuff.
Karen stuck her head up. “Hey! Water Boss! There’s canned water here.”
“Well, goody for me!”
Joe said, “I had forgotten that. This hatch hasn’t been opened since the shelter was stocked.”
“Joe, shall I knock out the braces?”
“I’ll get ’em. You clear out the supplies. Duke, this isn’t armored the way the door is. Those braces hold a piece of boiler plate against the opening, with the supplies behind it and the manhole cover holding it all down. Inside the tunnel, at ten foot intervals, are walls of sandbags, and the mouth has dirt over it. Your father said the idea was to cofferdam a blast. Let it in, slow it down, a piece at a time.”
“We’ll find those sandbags jammed against that boiler plate.”
“If so, we’ll dig ’em out.”
“Why didn’t he use real armor?”
“He thought this was safer. You saw what happened to the doors. I would hate to have to pry loose a steel barrier in that tunnel.”
“I see. Joe, I’m sorry I ever called this place a ‘hole in the ground.’”
“Well, it isn’t. It’s a machine—a survival machine.”
“I’m through,” Karen announced. “Some gentleman help me up. Or you, Duke.”
“I’ll put the lid on with you under it.” Duke helped his sister to climb out.
Joe climbed down, flinching at the strain on his ribs. Dr. Livingstone had been superintending. Now he followed his friend into the hole, using Joe’s shoulders as a landing.
“Duke, if you’ll hand me that sledge—Stay out of the way, Doc. Get your tail
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