"I doubt that will work with the Franklins," Tom said, shaking his head. "At least not with them and all my men still being alive after we get the meat. Up in these hills we have more than a few of the old survivalist types, the kind that were real disappointed that the world didn't go to hell after Y2K. They're just waiting for us to come up and try." "Let it go for now," John said. "If we start turning into Stalinist commissars hunting out every stalk of grain and ounce of meat for the collective, the fragile balance we have right now will break down and it will be every man for himself.
