A Town Is Drowning

This novel takes you right into the heart of the new flood country, the Northeast United States which had generally been free of hurricanes and attendant floods. Now disaster has struck, more than once--terrible and grim.

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Although this novel will give you an accurate and brilliantly vivid picture of what it's like to live through a flood, even more importantly it will show you what the people are like who fought the catastrophe and how those who survived are still fighting. In the persons of Starkman the burgess, Groff the dynamic young executive, Sharon the shrewd opportunist, Mrs. Goudeket, the resort owner, and others, you will meet and understand the varying human elements that the flood unleashed and intensified. Through it all you will sense a growing feeling of pride--that despite the selfishness of some, the people of the town met the terrible onslaught with courage and a sense of mutual help.

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Already well known for their superb science fiction, Frederik Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth demonstrate here their equal power in the realistic contemporary novel.

CHAPTER ONE

The man in the filling station was clearly of two minds about it, but finally he buttoned up his raincoat and pulled on his hat and came out to Mickey Groff's car. "Sorry to make you come out in the rain like this," Groff said. "Fill it up, will you?"

He rolled up the window and picked out the least soaked wad of Kleenex to wipe the mist off the inside of the windshield. The car radio stopped playing show tunes and began to talk about freezer food plans. Groff snapped it off and leaned back to watch the turning dials on the gas pump. By the time the man had put back the cap and sloshed around to the window Groff had the exact change ready in his hand. "How far is it to Hebertown?"

"Five miles," the attendant said, and went inside without counting the money. As Groff pulled out he saw the lights go out on the pumps and the big sign overhead.

You couldn't blame him, he thought; there weren't enough cars out in this rain to make it worth while. He had been lucky to find even one station open.

It was nearly impossible to see the road, no matter how hard the windshield wipers worked. Rain was spraying in somehow; all the windows were closed tight, but Groff could feel the thin mist on his face. He rolled around a long, downgrade curve, and when he touched the brake for a moment there was a queasy slipping sensation; the rain was coming down faster than it could flow off the highway.

Foolish to drive all the way to Hebertown, Groff reflected; but the only alternative, actually, was to take a bus. The railroads didn't bother much with this little out-of-the-way corner of the state. And that was something to keep firmly in mind when he talked to the burgess the next morning, he reminded himself. An industry-hungry town could make you some tempting offers; there was a firm promise of a tax break and bank credit, and the suggestion that maybe a suitable factory building could be turned over to you for nearly nothing at all. But you had to keep freight differentials in mind too; and what about labor supply? Well, no; he crossed that off. That was the whole point of the burgess's cooperative attitude; Hebertown had plenty of available labor ten months of the year, it was only when the vacationers came up from New York and the other big cities that local unemployment and the state of the local tax rolls ceased to be a problem. Still, what about that? Were you supposed to close down in the months of July and August?