Law and Order. That was something else that troubled him. Could Stu Redman be handed that particular package? He wouldn't want the job, but Nick thought he could perhaps persuade Stu to take it... and if push came to shove, he could get Stu's friend Glen to back him up. What really bothered him was the memory, still too fresh and hurtful to look at more than briefly, of his own brief and terrible tour as Shoyo's jailkeeper. Vince and Billy dying, Mike Childress jumping up and down on his supper and crying out in wretched defiance: Hunger strike! I'm on a f**kin hunger strike!
It made him ache inside to think they might need courts and jails... maybe even an executioner. Christ, these were Mother Abagail's people, not the dark man's! But he supposed the dark man would not bother with such trivialities as courts and jails. His punishment would be swift and sure and heavy. He would not need the threat of jail when the corpses hung on the telephone pole crosses along I-15 for the birds to pick.
Nick hoped most of the infractions would be small ones. There had been several cases of drunk and disorderly already. One kid, really too young to drive, had been rodding a big dragging machine up and down Broadway, scaring people out of the street. He had finally driven into a stalled bread truck and had gashed his forehead - and lucky to get off so cheaply, in Nick's opinion. The people who had seen him knew he was too young, but no one had felt he or she had the authority to put a stop to it.
Authority. Organization. He wrote the words on his pad and put them inside a double circle. Being Mother Abagail's people gave them no immunity to weakness, stupidity, or bad companions. Nick didn't know if they were the children of God or not, but when Moses had come down from the mountain, those not busy worshipping the golden calf had been busy shooting craps, he knew that. And they had to face the possibility that someone might get cut over a card game or decide to shoot someone else over a woman.
Authority. Organization. He circled the words again and now they were like prisoners behind a triple stockade. How well they went together... and what a sorry sound they made.
Not long after, Ralph came in. "We got some more folks coming in tomorrow, Nicky, and a whole parade the day after. Over thirty in that second one."
"Good," Nick wrote. "We'll get a doc before long, I bet. Law of averages says so."
"Yeah," Ralph said. "We're turnip into a regular by-God city."
Nick nodded.
"I had a talk with the fella leadin the party that came in today. His name's Larry Underwood. Smart man, Nick. Sharp as a tack."
Nick raised his eyebrows and drew a ? in the air.
"Well, let's see," Ralph said. He knew what the question mark meant: give more information, if you can. "He's six or seven years older'n you, I think, and maybe eight or nine younger than Redman. But he's the kind of man you said we ought to be on the lookout for. He asks the right questions."
?
"Who's in charge, for one," Ralph said. "What comes next, for another. Who does it, for a third."
Nick nodded. Yes - the right questions. But was he the right man? Ralph might be right. He also might not be.
"I'll try to meet up with him tomorrow & say hello," he wrote on a fresh sheet of paper.
"Yeah, you oughtta. He's all right." Ralph shuffled his feet. "And I talked to Mother a little bit before this Underwood and his folks came up to be innerduced. Talked to her like you wanted me to."
?
"She says we ought to go ahead. Get moving. She says there's people lollygaggin, and they need some folks to be in charge and tell em where to squat and lean."
Nick leaned back in his chair and laughed silently. Then he wrote, "I was pretty sure she'd feel that way. I'll talk to Stu & Glen tomorrow. Did you print the handbills?"
"Oh! Those! Shit, yeah," Ralph said. "That's where I been most of the afternoon, for Christ's sake." He showed Nick a sample poster. Still smelling strongly of mimeograph ink, the print was large and eyecatching. Ralph had done the graphics himself:
MASS MEETING!!!
REPRESENTATIVE BOARD
TO BE NOMINATED AND ELECTED!
8:30 P.M., August 18, 1990
Place: Canyon Boulevard Park & Bandshell if FINE
Chautauqua Hall in Chautauqua Park if FOUL
REFRESHMENTS WILL BE SERVED
FOLLOWING THE MEETING
Below this were two rudimentary street maps for newcomers and those who hadn't spent much time exploring Boulder. Below, in rather fine print, were the names he and Stu and Glen had agreed upon after some discussion earlier in the day:
Ad Hoc Committee
Nick Andros
Glen Bateman
Ralph Brentner
Richard Ellis
Fran Goldsmith
Stuart Redman
Susan Stern
Nick pointed to the line on the flier about refreshments and raised his eyebrows.
"Oh yeah, well, Frannie came by and said we'd be more apt to get everybody if we had something. She and her friend there, Patty Kroger, they're going to see to it. Cookies and Za-Rex." Ralph made a face. "If it came down to a choice between drinking Za-Rex and bullpiss, I'd have to sit down and think her over. You c'n have mine, Nicky."
Nick grinned.
"The only thing about this," Ralph went on more seriously, "is you guys putting me on this committee. I know what that word means. It means 'Congratulations, you get to do all the hard work.' Well, I don't really mind that, I been workin hard all my life. But committees are supposed to have idears, and I ain't much of an idear man."