He moved forward slowly and activated the flame throwers. In the rearview screen, he could see that the other vehicles had halted a hundred yards behind him and dimmed their lights.
He drove till he could go no further, then pressed the button for the forward flame.
It shot forth, a tongue of fire, licking fifty feet into the bramble. He held it for five seconds and withdrew it. Then he extended it a second time and backed away quickly as the flames caught.
Beginning with a tiny glow, they worked their way upward and spread slowly to the right and the left. Then they grew in size and brightness.As Tanner backed away, he had to dim his screen, for they'd spread fifty feet before he'd backed more than a hundred, and they leaped thirty and forty feet into the air.
The blaze widened, to a hundred feet, two, three ... As Tanner backed away, he could see a river of fire flowing off into the distance, and the night was bright about him.
He watched it burn, until it seemed that he looked upon a molten sea. Then he searched the refrigerator, but there was no beer. He opened a soft drink and sipped it while he watched the burning. After about ten minutes, the air conditioner whined and shook itself to life. Hordes of dark, four-footed creatures, the size of rats or cats, fled from the inferno, their coats smouldering. They flowed by. At one point, they covered his forward screen, and he could hear the scratching of their claws upon the fenders and the roof.
He switched off the lights and killed the engine, tossed the empty can into the waste box. He pushed the "Recline" button on the side of the seat, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
He was awakened by the blowing of horns. It was still night, and the panel clock showed him that he had slept for a little over three hours.
He stretched, sat up, adjusted the seat. The other cars had moved up, and one stood to either side of him. He leaned on bis own horn twice and started bis engine. He switched on the forward lights and considered the prospect before him as he drew on his gloves.
Smoke still rose from the blackened field, and far off to his right there was a glow, as if the fire still continued somewhere in the distance. They were in the place that had once been known as Nevada.
He rubbed his eyes and scratched his nose, then blew the horn once and engaged the gears.
He moved forward slowly. The burnt-out area seemed fairly level and his tires were thick.
He entered the black field, and his screens were immediately obscured by the rush of ashes and smoke which rose on all sides.He continued, hearing the tires crunching through the brittle remains. He set his screens at maximum and switched his headlamps up to full brightness.
The vehicles that flanked him dropped back perhaps eighty feet. and he dimmed the screens that reflected the glare of their lights.
He released a flare, and as it hung there, burning, cold, white and high, he saw a charred plain that swept on to the edges of his eyes' horizon.
He pushed down on the accelerator, and the cars behind him swung far out to the sides to avoid the clouds that he raised. His radio crackled, and he heard a faint voice but could not make out its words.
He blew his horn and rolled ahead even faster. The other vehicles kept pace.
He drove for an hour and a half before he saw the end of the ash and the beginning of clean sand up ahead.
Within five minutes, he was moving across desert once more, and he checked his compass and bore slightly to the west Cars one and three followed, speeding up to match his new pace, and he drove with one hand and ate a corned beef sandwich.
When morning came, many hours later, he took a pill to keep himself alert and listened to the screaming of the wind. The sun rose up like molten silver to his right, and a third of the sky grew amber and was laced with fine lines like cobwebs. The desert was topaz beneath it, and the brown curtain of dust that hung continuously at his back, pierced only by the eight shafts of the other cars' lights, took on a pinkish tone as the sun grew a bright red corona and the shadows fled into the west. He dimmed his lights as he passed an orange cactus shaped like a toadstool and perhaps fifty feet in diameter.
Giant bats fled south, and far ahead he saw a wide waterfall descending from the heavens. It was gone by the time he reached the damp sand of that place, but a dead shark lay to his left, and there was seaweed, seaweed, seaweed, fish and driftwood all about.
The sky pinked over from east to west and remained that color. He gulped a bottle of ice water and felt it go into his stomach. He passed more cacti, and a pair of coyotes sat at the base of one and watched him drive by. They seemed to be laughing. Their tongues were very red.As the sun brightened, he dimmed the screen. He smoked, and he found a button that produced music. He swore at the soft, stringy sounds that filled the cabin, but he didn't turn them on.
He checked the radiation level outside, and it was only a little above normal. The last time he had passed this way, it had been considerably higher.
He passed several wrecked vehicles such as his own. He ran across another plain of silicon, and in the middle was a huge crater which he skirted. The pinkness in the sky faded and faded and faded, and a bluish tone came to replace it. The dark lines were still there, and occasionally one widened into a black river as it flowed away into the east. At noon, one such river partly eclipsed the sun for a period of eleven minutes. With its departure, there came a brief dust storm, and Tanner turned on the radar and his lights. He knew there was a chasm somewhere ahead, and when he came to it he bore to the left and ran along its edge for close to two miles before it narrowed and vanished. The other vehicles followed, and Tanner took his bearings from the compass once more. The dust had subsided with the brief wind, and even with the screen dimmed Tanner had to don his dark goggles against the glare of reflected sunlight from the faceted field he now negotiated.
He passed towering formations which seemed to be quartz. He had never stopped to investigate them in the past, and he had no desire to do it now. The spectrum danced at their bases, and patches of such light occurred for some distance about them.
Speeding away from the crater, he came again upon sand, clean, brown, white dun and red. There were more cacti, and huge dunes lay all about him. The sky continued to change, until it was as blue as a baby's eyes. Tanner hummed along with the music for a time, and then he saw the monster.
It was a Gila, bigger than his car, and it moved in fast. It sprang from out the sheltering shade of a valley filled with cacti and it raced toward him, its beaded body bright with many colors beneath the sun, its dark, dark eyes unblinking as it bounded forward on its lizard-fast legs, sable fountains rising behind its upheld tail that was wide as a sail and pointed like a tent.He couldn't use the rockets because it was coming in from the side.
He opened up with his fifty-calibers and spread his "wings" and stamped the accelerator to the floor. As it neared, he sent forth a cloud of fire in its direction. By then, the other cars were firing, too.
It swung its tail and opened and closed its Jaws, and its blood came forth and fell upon the ground. Then a rocket struck it. It turned; it leaped.
There came a booming, crunching sound as it fell upon the vehicle identified as car number one and lay there.
Tanner hit the brakes, turned, and headed back.
Car number three came up beside it and parked. Tanner did the same.
He jumped down from the cab and crossed to the smashed car. He had the rifle in his hands and he put six rounds into the creature's head before he approached the car.
The door had come open, and it hung from a single hinge, the bottom one.
Inside, Tanner could see the two men sprawled, and there was some blood upon the dashboard and the seat.
The other two drivers came up beside him and stared within. Then the shorter of the two crawled inside and listened for the heartbeat and the pulse and felt for breathing.
"Mike's dead," he called out, "but Greg's starting to come around."
A wet spot that began at the car's rear and spread an
d continued to spread, and the smell of gasoline filled the air.
Tanner took out a cigarette, thought better of it and replaced it in the pack. He could hear the gurgle of the huge gas tanks as they emptied themselves upon the ground.
The man who stood at Tanner's side said, "I never saw anything like it. ... I've seen pictures, but—I never saw anything like it. ..."
"I have," said Tanner, and then the other driver emerged from the wreck, partly supporting the man he'd referred to as Greg.
The man called out, "Greg's all right. He just hit his head on the dash."
The man who stood at Tanner's side said, "You cantake him, Hell. He can back you up when he's feeling better," and Tanner shrugged and turned his back on the scene and lit a cigarette.
"I don't think you should do—" the man began, and Tanner blew smoke in his face. He turned to regard the two approaching men and saw that Greg was dark-eyed and deeply tanned. Part Indian, possibly. His skin seemed smooth, save for a couple pockmarks beneath his right eye, .and his cheekbones were high and his hair very dark. He was as big as Tanner, which was six-two, though not quite so heavy. He was dressed in overalls; and his carriage, now that he had had a few deep breaths of air, became very erect, and he moved with a quick, graceful stride.
"We'll have to bury Mike," the short man said.
*'I hate to lose the time," said his companion, "but—" and then Tanner flipped his cigarette and threw himself to the ground as it landed in the pool at the rear of the car.
There was an explosion, flames, then more explosions. Tanner heard the rockets as they tore off toward the east, inscribing dark furrows in the hot afternoon's air. The ammo for the fifty-calibers exploded, and the hand grenades went off, and Tanner burrowed deeper and deeper into the sand, covering his head and blocking his ears. - As soon as things grew quiet, he grabbed for the rifle. But they were already coming at him, and he saw the muzzle of a pistol. He raised his hands slowly and stood.
"Why the goddamn hell did you do a stupid thing like that?" said the other driver, the man who held the pistol.
Tanner smiled. "Now we don't have to bury him," he said. "Cremation's just as good, and it's already over."
"You could have killed us all, if those guns or those rocket launchers had been aimed this way!"
'They weren't. I looked."
"The flying metal could've—Oh ... I see. Pick up your damn rifle, buddy, and keep it pointed at the ground. Eject the rounds it's still got in it and put 'em in your pocket."
Tanner did this thing while the other talked.
"You wanted to kill us all, didn't you? Then you could have cut out and gone your way, like you tried to do yesterday. Isn't that right?"
"You said it, mister, not me.""It's true, though. You don't give a good goddamn if everybody in Boston croaks, do you?"
"My gun's unloaded now," said Tanner.
"Then get back in your bloody buggy and get goingi 111 be behind you all the way!"
Tanner walked back toward his car. He heard the others arguing behind him, but he didn't think they'd shoot him. As he was about to climb up into the cab, he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly.
The man named Greg was standing behind him, tall and quiet as a ghost.
"Want me to drive awhile?" he asked Tanner, without expression.
"No, you rest up. I'm still in good shape. Later on this afternoon, maybe, if you feel up to it."
The man nodded and rounded the cab. He entered from the other side and immediately reclined his chair.
Tanner slammed his door and started the engine. He heard the air conditioner come to life.
"Want to reload this?" he asked. "And put it back on the rack?" And he handed the rifle and the ammo to the other, who had nodded. He drew on his gloves then and said, "There's plenty of soft drinks in the 'frig. Nothing much else, though," and the other nodded again. Then he heard car three start and said, "Might as well roll," and he put it into gear and took his foot off the clutch.
VI After they had driven for about half an hour, the man called Greg said to him, "Is it true what Marlowe said?"
"What's a Marlowe?"
"He's driving the other car. Were you trying to kill us? Do you really want to skip out?"
Hell laughed. "That's right," he said. "You named it."
-Why?"
Hell let it hang there for a minute, then said, ."Why shouldn't I? I'm not anxious to die. I'd like to wait a long time before I try that bit."
Greg said, "If we don't make it, the population of the continent may be cut in half."
"If it's a question of them or me, I'd rather it was them.""I sometimes wonder how people like you happen."
"The same way as anybody else, mister, and it's fun for a couple people for awhile, and then the trouble starts."
"What did they ever do to you. Hell?"
"Nothing. What did they ever do for me? Nothing. Nothing. What do I owe them? The same."
"Why'd you stomp your brother back at the Hall?"
"Because I didn't want him doing a damfool thing like this and getting himself killed. Cracked ribs he can get over. Death is a more permanent ailment."
"That's not what I asked you. I mean, what do you care whether he croaks?"
"He's a good kid, that's why. He's got a thing for this chick, though, and he can't see straight."
"So what's it to you?"
"Like I said, he's my brother and he's a good kid. I like him."
"How come?"
"Oh, hell! We've been through a lot together, that's all! What are you trying to do? Psychoanalyze me?"
"I was just curious, that's all."
"So now you know. Talk about something else if you want to talk, okay?"
"Okay. You've been this way before, right?"
"That's right."
"You been any further east?"
"I've been all the way to the Missus Hip."
"Do you know a way to get across it?"
"I think so. The bridge is still up at Saint Louis."
"Why didn't you go across it the last time you were there?"
"Are you kidding? The thing's packed with cars full of bones. It wasn't worth the trouble to try and clear it"
"Why'd you go that far in the first place?"
"Just to see what it was like. I heard all these stories—'*
"What was it like?"
"A lot of crap. Burned down towns, big craters, crazy animals, some people—"
"People? People still live there?"
"If you want to call them that. They're all wild and screwed up. They wear rags or animal skins or they gonaked. They threw rocks at me till I shot a couple. Then they let me alone."
"How long ago was that?"
"Six—maybe seven years ago. I was just a kid then.'*
"How come you never told anybody about it?"
"I did. A coupla my friends. Nobody else ever asked me. We were going to go out there and grab off a couple of the girls and bring them back, but everybody chickened out."
"What would you have done with them?"
Tanner shrugged. "I dunno. Sell 'em, I guess."
"You guys used to do that, down on the Barbary Coast —sell people, I mean—didn't you?"
Tanner shrugged again.
"Used to," he said, "before the Big Raid."
"How'd you manage to live through that? I thought they'd cleaned the whole place out?"
"I was doing time," he said. "A.D.W."
"What's that?"
"Assault with a deadly weapon."
"What'd you do after they let you go?"
"I let them rehabilitate me. They got me a job running the mail."
"Oh yeah, I heard about that. Didn't realize it was you, though. You were supposed to be pretty good—doing all right and ready for a promotion. Then you kicked your boss around and lost your job. How come?"
"He was always riding me about my record and about my old gang down on the Coast. Finally, one day I told him
to lay off, and he laughed at me, so I hit him with a chain. Knocked out the bastard's front teeth. I'd do it again."
"Too bad."
"I was the best driver he had. It was his loss. Nobody else will make the Albuquerque run, not even today. Not unless they really need the money."
"Did you like the work, though, while you were doing it?"
"Yeah, I like to drive."
"You should probably have asked for a transfer when the guy started bugging you."
"I know. If it was happening today, that's probably what I'd do. I was mad, though, and I used to get mad alot faster than I do now. I think I'm smarter these days than I was before."
"If you make it on this run and you go home afterward, you'll probably be able to get your job back. Think you'd take it?"
"In the first place," said Tanner, "I don't think we'll make it. And in the second, if we do make it and there's still people around that town, I think I'd rather stay there than go back."
Greg nodded. "Might be smart. You'd be a hero. Nobody'd know much about your record. Somebody'd turn you onto something good."
"The hell with heroes," said Tanner.
"Me, though, I'll go back if we make it."
"Sail 'round Cape Horn?"
"That's right."
"Might be fun. But why go back?"
"I've got an old mother and a mess of brothers and sisters I take care of, and I've got a girl back there."
Tanner brightened the screen as the sky began to darken.
"What's your mother like?"
"Nice old lady. Raised the eight of us. Got arthritis bad now, though."
"What was she like when you were a kid?"
"She used to work during the day, but she cooked our meals and sometimes brought us candy. She made a lot of our clothes. She used to tell us stories, like about how things were before the war. She played games with us and sometimes she gave us toys."
"How about your old man?" Tanner asked him, after awhile.
"He drank pretty heavy and he had a lot of jobs, but he never beat us too much. He was all right. He got run over by a car when I was around twelve."
The Last Defender Of Camelot Page 16