Twenty-SevenThe first protestors showed up at dawn. Three or four locals, a family it seemed, were lounging on lawn chairs outside the main gate, but they carried no placards and voiced no demands. As Machuzak passed, he couldn’t determine whether their intent was to keep people out or radiation in. “May I help you?” he called out.
“Nope,” was the response. “Just keeping an eye on things.”
“Good—I need all the help I can get,” Nathaniel answered, but by afternoon they were gone.
Joking had stopped at the guard booth. The security staff, after years faced with a job, opened trunks and inspected undercarriages, and did not exempt the acting director. D’Abro herself was up early, briefing guards on suspicious behavior, and Machuzak watched them grill an industry rep until tempers flared.
