Thankfully, the girls didn't say anything the next morning (though Anne did cast me a quick look and a hint of a smile). Then the three of them were off to bathe in the lake again.
Sylvie arrived before they had returned.
- "You'll get used to not washing quite so often." she said. "You won't always have the opportunity, for one thing. But you'll start to find that not using soap every day is much better for your skin. Even soap as mild as the stuff we make."
- "I'll bet there are lots of comforts we'll have to get used to doing without."
- "You can have comforts, or you can have freedom." she said. "You'd have to be pretty damned lucky to have both at the same time."
When the women returned, Sylvie wished them a good morning.
"Don't be long." she said to me.
I hurried to wash and take a quick swim. Regardless of Sylvie's comments regarding bathing, I didn't want to meet new people today while I still smelled of sex.
Sylvie took us on a quick tour above-ground, and then down into a tunnel. That was when we first discovered that Ten Lakes was like an iceberg; Nine tenths of it seemed to be under the surface.
Up above, they had garden vegetables and fruit trees, spread out without any recognizable pattern, making them difficult to identify from the air. There were dwellings, too, like the shelter we had slept in, but they weren't clumped together; instead, they were widely spread out, and carefully camouflaged.
Down below, though, it was a completely different story. The tunnels were slightly wider and considerably taller than the ones we'd seen before; my back could tell the difference. There were rooms with beds and cupboards, and even rugs. One chamber had a dozen narrow single beds and a couple of cribs.
- "Dormitory-style, for children." said Sylvie. "For parents who want the kids raised together. But if you want to keep them with you, that's also an option."
There was an eating hall, with picnic tables. There were multiple rooms for growing food, with sun lamps powered by Dixon generators.
- "Where did you get so many generators?" I asked.
- "We steal some, and buy some. Max could tell you more than I can."
We met Max, one of Ten Lakes' top gardeners. We were also introduced to Nadia, their top woodworker.
- "Wood worker? Don't you prefer the term 'carpenter'?" asked Anne.
- "I
am
a carpenter." said Nadia. "But I also run the sawmill, so I get called 'The Wood Lady' more often than anything else." She winked. "It could be worse: I might have been in charge of fertilizer."
I did a double-take. "You have a
sawmill
?"
- "Yep. Happy to show you, once you get settled. Maybe you'll want to work with us. Lord knows you're too big to be digging tunnels."
- "He has a Van Guren rifle, Nadia." said Sylvie.
- "Oh."
- "Speaking of tunnels, though..." I said. "I noticed a lot of shoring - including some that looked like white spruce. The tables, too, and the beds..."
- "That's right. No shortage of white spruce up here. Good for construction."
- "But isn't it prone to insect attacks? I mean... I thought that it shouldn't be left in contact with the earth too long. If at all."
- "Was your Daddy a woodworker?" she asked. "No? Well, the answer is simple: Permatreat. Lasts for darn near ever, and preserves without poisoning the soil. I wouldn't eat the stuff, mind you, but it's pretty safe otherwise."
The most important meeting of the day, though, was with Long Tom. With a name like that, I was surprised that he was of only average height. Tom was an older gentlemen, but he gave us a warm welcome, especially when Anne handed over the second case of medical supplies.
I understood then why Sylvie had kept it back; the brief exchange was almost like a ceremony, and Long Tom made our welcome official.
- "You'll have to earn your keep, though." he warned. "To each according to their needs, from each according to their ability. We hold to that, here."
- "Isn't that socialism?" said Anne.
- "Yes. But you'll find the second half in the Bible, too." said Tom. "Acts, if I'm not mistaken. But it's not a matter of politics, for us. It's a daily reality. If you're not willing to help us out, why would we feed and shelter you?"
That only made sense to me. Anne saw it, too.
- "I'm a trained medical technician." she said. "Not a doctor, but I can help."
- "You already have." said Tom. "We'll have more to say about this once you've had a chance to see more of our community."
Sylvie insisted that there was one more person that I, in particular, had to meet. While the girls had lunch with Long Tom and some of the others, she led me into a separate tunnel complex.
That was another interesting thing about Ten Lakes. While eighty or ninety percent of their 'community' seemed to be underground, it wasn't underground all in one place. We visited at least six separate tunnel complexes - each with more than one exit - and I rapidly gained the impression that there were many, many more.
Sylvie confirmed that. "If an enemy got into one of the areas, people inside could still get out. We could hold or delay some of the intruders inside. There would also be time to spread the warning to other areas. The last thing we want is to be trapped down below."
I didn't tell her, then, but I was really impressed. Growing food? Dormitories? A sawmill? They might lack hot showers and coffee in the morning, but these were not the cave-dwellers and savages that had been described to me back at the Golf Club.
The tunnel that she led me into next was different. Once again, the passages were low and narrow. But this one also had a door. A locked door. Sylvie knocked.
I heard a voice from beyond the door. From the tone, I suspected that a man inside had asked a question, but I couldn't make out any of the words. Then Sylvie replied. She used her own name, but I didn't recognize anything else she said.
The door opened, and a young man let us in. He closed the door behind us, and locked it. Sylvie led the way forward, through a passage with a double dog-leg, until we reached a low chamber.
There was light, powered by another Dixon generator. There was a workbench, with pieces of equipment spread out over it, and a partially disassembled rifle. A tall bearded man in a dirty apron frowned at our interruption, but his face lit up when he saw Sylvie.
"Tsekwaz gway gosh." he said (at least, that's what it sounded like to me).
"Uncle Sas." she said.
He came around the workbench, and embraced her, squeezing her tightly enough to pull her up on her toes.
