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"Uh, well, Mr. Ferrara he's my science teacher says we were moved to Germany, in the year 1631.
And that there's a war on, with us in the middle of it."
Santee looked hard at the kid, trying to find some sign of repressed mirth that would indicate a joker. He
saw none of it, just an anxious teenager repeating what he'd been told.
"Who is 'we'?"
Eddie was confused at first, then figured it out and responded. "About a six-mile circle around Grantville.
Everybody inside everything inside moved here. Gas wells, coal mine, power plant, everything." He
looked up the path on the other side of the house. "I guess your driveway leads off to Butterchurn Road.
That didn't make it."
"Oh. Okay. Damn. Shit. Take some thinking on." That story was totally unbelievable, but so were the
plain facts all around him. Goddamn it. The kid clearly had more information, but it would take awhile to
get it, and Santee didn't like standing for long stretches. "Would you like something to drink? I just have
water, but it's clean and cold."
Eddie nodded. "Thanks. That sounds good, but then I've got to get back." Santee still scared him a little.
"Mike Stearns is the head of the committee. He said if you were here inside the Ring, he'd, uh, like to
meet you."
"What's your name, son?"
"Eddie Cantrell." He paused, wondering if he should add "sir" to it, but it was too late.
Santee held his door open. "Come on in, Eddie. My name is Paul, but everybody just calls me Santee.
It's real neighborly of you to come out here to tell me." He wondered if that sounded as hokey as it felt
saying it.
They sat at Santee's table and drank cold spring water. Eddie told about the tumultuous day of the
Event, and the town meeting and what the people were doing to cope with the war they found themselves
in. They were going to fight, of course. They'd sent him here, he said, because they were trying to find
every American within the Ring and gather them in Grantville to help with defense. Santee didn't betray
any surprise, just kept listening and asking occasional questions. After awhile Eddie relaxed a bit and
decided Santee was just trying to be nice, even if sociable chitchat came hard to him. At Santee's subtle
probing, Eddie explained that he was on his own now, since he was on a different side of the Ring of Fire
from his home, including his father (who he said was "okay, when he had the time") and stepmother (who
he admitted he wouldn't miss much).
The talk returned to more immediate matters. "How did you get here?" Santee asked him.
"I rode my dirt bike up that hill" he pointed across the canyon "and saw your smoke, and then your
cabin. Lots of Germans running from the war around here, but they don't make smokestacks like that.
No way to ride here, so I just walked. Brush got thick in places, but no problem."
"Good job. You must move pretty quiet when you want to." Santee even gave him a brief, crooked
smile. "None of my business, but what are you going to do? I don't mean the town, I mean you."
"Well, I've been drafted, I guess. Frank Jackson's running the army; I'll do what he tells me to. He's a
Vietnam vet." Eddie sounded a little impressed at that. Then he looked at his watch and quickly stood up.
"Uh, I have to get back. I'm late now. Thanks for the water and all. Hope to see you in Grantville..."
On impulse, Santee said, "Just a second, Eddie. You say there are armed Germans out there. Do you
have a gun?"
"Uh, no. I had a .22 and a shotgun, but now..."
"Just a sec then. Be right back."
Santee disappeared through a side door and came back in a few minutes with a pistol in a fully enclosed
holster.
"This is a Russian Nagant revolver. Seven shooter, not the usual six shots. Damn ammo costs forty
bucks a box, so the pistols are cheap. Uh, 'were.' Damn."
Eddie smiled. "Everybody's doing that. Weird for everyone."
"Yeah. I suppose so. You know about gun safety?"
"It's loaded. Don't point it at anybody. Know what you're shooting at." Eddie repeated it mechanically; it
had been drilled into his head a thousand times.
Santee nodded and handed the pistol to Eddie. "You know it; just remember it. Take this outside and
dry-fire it a few times. Trigger pull is god-awful. Cylinder moves back and forth front to back; that's
normal. I'll go round up the ammo."
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