doorbells needed power to run.
Whether anyone would answer it he didn't know. Only six of the houses he'd visited that morning had had someone home. One in two. But then the damage from the ice storm was often extensive and it was everywhere. In all his travels on the bike he didn't think he'd seen a single house that wasn't damaged. Some had been completely destroyed. Many in fact. Some of them were now piles of rubble that here and there had fallen across the road. The owners of the ruined houses were probably with friends or family or had left the city, he hoped. Though some of them could be buried inside their remains.
It would have been so much easier and faster if he could have phoned them. But the phones were down. Both the land lines and the cellular networks. Not only had the stations and towers taken hits, the lines were gone as well, and there was no word of when or even if they would be repaired. The radio said the damage was extensive, but the truth was it was far worse than that. They were being diplomatic. The same was true of electricity with the substations and lines in ruins. Most of the city was living in a complete blackout. Los Angeles had never been so dark at night, nor so quiet by day.
Anyone who could was leaving the city, but not many could. As well as killing thousands of people and destroying houses without number, the ice storm had also taken out cars in their hundreds of thousands and damaged the roads as well. Many were so badly damaged that even a four wheel drive couldn't cross the gaping craters that were supposedly potholes according to the radio. Effectively it had trapped millions in their broken homes. That though had been his only piece of luck in his search, and it had come with its own problems. The main one was that it had also meant that he couldn't drive anywhere either. Not that he had a working car left.
In fact Richard had the only working car they had and he was busy. For two days he'd been driving in and out of the city, buying supplies, finding friends and running errands. It was proving a long, slow and difficult process as he had to find the least damaged roads, crawl around the pile ups and piles of fallen rubble, and then compete with the pedestrians who were everywhere. But he was doing it and as a bonus he was also contacting people through email for them. The car let him escape the destruction and find an email café outside of the city. Through him Will's family now knew he was alive, and they knew not to come and try to bring him home.
He was sure they wanted to, and each day that went by he worried that he would see his father standing at the front door with a serious look on his face. But he couldn't leave – he had a thesis to finish as he told them. And they seemed to accept his excuse. They could never have accepted the real reason. That he had to stay behind to find the bungling doctor who had stuffed up his drug trial and left him hairless and subject to some intense and seemingly never ending nightmares.
Still, he had hope. The lack of working cars and the broken roads meant that houses, even wrecked houses, still had people living in them. They were trapped there. And hopefully Doctor Millen was stuck in the city as well. That was all Will had to work with as he hunted him down – and it wasn't a lot. More worrying was that he knew that even if Doctor Millen was stuck in the city he wouldn't be for long. No one would be if they had any sense. And he surely had enough money to buy his way out.
The army was already arranging a mass evacuation. Their trucks were cruising the streets with loud hailers informing everyone about it while their bulldozers were clearing the roads. It wasn't forced, people could choose to stay or go, but many who no longer had a habitable house were packing up and leaving. Which was why he'd grabbed his ten speed and some pages from the phone book, and started on his hunt first thing that morning. He
Whether anyone would answer it he didn't know. Only six of the houses he'd visited that morning had had someone home. One in two. But then the damage from the ice storm was often extensive and it was everywhere. In all his travels on the bike he didn't think he'd seen a single house that wasn't damaged. Some had been completely destroyed. Many in fact. Some of them were now piles of rubble that here and there had fallen across the road. The owners of the ruined houses were probably with friends or family or had left the city, he hoped. Though some of them could be buried inside their remains.
It would have been so much easier and faster if he could have phoned them. But the phones were down. Both the land lines and the cellular networks. Not only had the stations and towers taken hits, the lines were gone as well, and there was no word of when or even if they would be repaired. The radio said the damage was extensive, but the truth was it was far worse than that. They were being diplomatic. The same was true of electricity with the substations and lines in ruins. Most of the city was living in a complete blackout. Los Angeles had never been so dark at night, nor so quiet by day.
Anyone who could was leaving the city, but not many could. As well as killing thousands of people and destroying houses without number, the ice storm had also taken out cars in their hundreds of thousands and damaged the roads as well. Many were so badly damaged that even a four wheel drive couldn't cross the gaping craters that were supposedly potholes according to the radio. Effectively it had trapped millions in their broken homes. That though had been his only piece of luck in his search, and it had come with its own problems. The main one was that it had also meant that he couldn't drive anywhere either. Not that he had a working car left.
In fact Richard had the only working car they had and he was busy. For two days he'd been driving in and out of the city, buying supplies, finding friends and running errands. It was proving a long, slow and difficult process as he had to find the least damaged roads, crawl around the pile ups and piles of fallen rubble, and then compete with the pedestrians who were everywhere. But he was doing it and as a bonus he was also contacting people through email for them. The car let him escape the destruction and find an email café outside of the city. Through him Will's family now knew he was alive, and they knew not to come and try to bring him home.
He was sure they wanted to, and each day that went by he worried that he would see his father standing at the front door with a serious look on his face. But he couldn't leave – he had a thesis to finish as he told them. And they seemed to accept his excuse. They could never have accepted the real reason. That he had to stay behind to find the bungling doctor who had stuffed up his drug trial and left him hairless and subject to some intense and seemingly never ending nightmares.
Still, he had hope. The lack of working cars and the broken roads meant that houses, even wrecked houses, still had people living in them. They were trapped there. And hopefully Doctor Millen was stuck in the city as well. That was all Will had to work with as he hunted him down – and it wasn't a lot. More worrying was that he knew that even if Doctor Millen was stuck in the city he wouldn't be for long. No one would be if they had any sense. And he surely had enough money to buy his way out.
The army was already arranging a mass evacuation. Their trucks were cruising the streets with loud hailers informing everyone about it while their bulldozers were clearing the roads. It wasn't forced, people could choose to stay or go, but many who no longer had a habitable house were packing up and leaving. Which was why he'd grabbed his ten speed and some pages from the phone book, and started on his hunt first thing that morning. He
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