Thinking back, he guessed he must probably have sounded delirious with the concussion.

And then the doctor, and other helpers along the way. People Ren seemed to know well. A change of trucks, a house and a soft bed on the outskirts of a town whose name he never saw. Another long, bone-jarring night in an all-terrain vehicle and tipping out at dawn on the airfield' s deserted expanse.

And then the waiting.

He tried to make himself useful. He tidied up after Ren and the stranger, put their bags and bedrolls straight every morning- and, oddly, glimpsed in among Ren' s gear a Bible and a sheaf of curling hardcopy from Republican ministry download sites, some of which he knew well himself; he closed the bag gently and didn' t look again, he wasn' t nosy by nature, but it made him frown all the same. He put it out of his mind as much as he could. Instead he put together a table and three dining places out of pieces of junk he found lying around in the control tower block and the hangars. He discovered a wrecked and wingless Cessna in one hangar corner, halfheartedly draped in thick plastic sheeting that he cut up and made into hanging curtains for a couple of the toilet cubicles and the showers. He took care of the food.

The supplies the all-terrain driver had left them were mostly pull-tab autoheating, but he did his best to make meals out of what there was, carried them up to the other two in the tower when they showed no sign of coming down to eat. Tried not to stare at the stranger. He took the painkillers the doctor had given him sparingly and he prayed, diligently, every time he ate or slept. In an odd way, he felt better about life than he had in months.

Won' t be much longer now."

He started. When night fell, the quiet in the derelict building seemed to deepen somehow, and Ren' s voice jumped him like a gunshot. He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway that led through to the tower stairs. Light from the last red-gold leavings of the sunset outside meshed with the bluish glow of the camping lamps he' d lit, picked up a gleam in her eyes and along the teeth of the zip fastener on the ancient leather jacket she wore.

What you doing?"

Praying." Half defiant, because he certainly hadn' t noticed her doing it in the last few days.

She nodded. Moved into the room and folded herself down onto her sleeping bag with unconscious grace.

We need to talk," she said, and he thought she sounded weary. Why don' t you come over here."

He nearly jumped again. What for?"

I won' t bite you, Scott."

I, uh, I know that. I can hear you from here, though."

Maybe you can. But I' d rather we didn' t have to shout. Now, come over here."

Tight-lipped, he got up from his own bedroll and walked over to hers. She nodded to her left and he squatted awkwardly beside her, not quite sitting down. Her scent washed over him, faintly unclean with desert sweat- he thought she hadn' t showered since early the day before. She looked into his face, and he felt the same old flip in his chest. She nodded upward, toward the ceiling and the tower above.

You know who that is up there," she murmured. Don' t you."

Exhilaration sloshed in his guts, chased up and met the feeling she' d made under his ribs. He managed a jerky nod of his own. It is, isn' t it."

Yeah, it is." She sighed. This is difficult for me, Scott. I grew up in a big family that had some Christians in it, but I wasn' t one of them. My religious experience is... very different from yours. Where I' m from, we accepted that other beliefs were possible, but we always thought they were just other ways of looking at the same truths we believed in. Less accurate, less enlightened paths. I never thought that maybe our truth would be the less enlightened one, that the Christians would be the ones who got it right. That- "

She shook her head. I never considered that."

He felt a warm, protective affection for her surge up inside, like flames. He reached out and took her hand where it lay in her lap, squeezed gently.

It' s okay," he said. You were true in your beliefs. That' s what counts."

I mean, you have to believe what you see with your own eyes, Scott. Right?" Her eyes held his. You have to believe what you' re told when nothing else makes any sense, right?"

He drew a deep breath. This makes perfect sense to me, Carmen."

Yeah, well here' s the thing, and I don' t know if there' s anything in your Bible that covers this, because it certainly isn' t what I was taught about the final cycle. He says" - another upward tilt of her eyes- that he' s come early, that it' s not time yet and he has to gather his strength. He has work to do here, but his enemies are out there and they' re still strong. And that means we have to protect him until it is time.

He' s chosen us, Scott. Sorted us from the, uh, the- "

The chaff?"

Yeah, the chaff. You saw what he did with Nocera and Ward? They were servants of the darkness, Scott. I see that now. I mean, I never liked Nocera, and Ward, well, I thought he was okay but- "

Satan has a thousand snares," Scott told her. A thousand masks to wear."

Right."

He hesitated, looking at her. Are you His- " He tasted the word, awkward on his tongue. His handmaiden?"

Yes. That' s what he' s told me. Until one of the, uh, the angels can come to take on the task. Until then, he says he' ll speak through me."

He was still holding her hand. He let go, pulled his own hands back as if she were hot to the touch. He tried not to stare at how beautiful she was.

You are. So worthy of it," he said hoarsely. You' l be fil ed with light."

Then her hand was on him, on the buckle of his belt, pulling him to her. She leaned in and brushed her parted lips across his mouth. Pulled back again.

He gaped. Blood hammered in his head. Below the belt buckle, he felt suddenly trapped and swollen.

What are you doing?" he hissed.

She gestured at the ceiling. He' s up there, Scott. Staying up there, keeping watch for us. It' s al right."

No, it' s- " Shaking his head numbly. Trying to explain. - it' s a, a sin, Carmen."

He wanted to move away from her, but in moving he only tipped back over in his awkward crouch and wound up sitting slumped against the wall behind him, stil on the bedroll. He hadn' t succeeded in opening the distance between them at all. Or maybe- he' d wonder about it afterward- maybe he just hadn' t wanted to move away from her after all.

Carmen," he pleaded. We can' t be sinners. Not now. Not here. It' s wrong."

But Carmen Ren only hooked a thumb inside the neckline of her shirt, looked down at her own hand, and tugged. The static seam split with a tiny crackle and she ran her thumb downward, opening the shirt on the molded lift of her breasts in their profiler cups. He could see through the clear plastic sheen to where her nipples were pressed flat against the inner surface of each cup. She looked up again and smiled at him.

How can it be?" she asked simply. Scott, don' t you see? Don' t you feel it? This is meant to be. This is a sacrament, a purification for both of us. A gift of his love. Reach inside yourself. Don' t you feel it?"

And he did.

It had been a very long time.

He was not a virgin, not since the eleventh grade and Janey Wilkins, and Janey hadn' t exactly been the only one before he left for the Rim, either, though he tried not to take pride in that because he knew pride in it was wrong. But the girls had always come to him, no way to deny it. Scott took after his mother, was tall and long-legged, and he' d hardened his upper body in his early teens, putting in all the part-time hours he could get stringing fences and doing river security for the big Bitterroot land parcels so later he'

d be able to pay his own way through tenth to twelfth grade and not be a burden or have to sign up for a youth stint with the marines if he wanted to finish out his education. And then, for all his muscle and length of limb, he was still soft-spoken and kind, and it seemed from what Janey told him that that didn' t hurt too much, either, when a girl was looking.

But in the Rim, something happened to him.

Maybe it was the fact that sex was suddenly everywhere- perfectly toned and tampered-with bodies, impossible to know if they were real flesh or generated v-format interfaces, but there they were, twining around each other on the big LCLS billboards, on storefront display screens, on those high-end pixelated shopping bags the women carried in fistfuls like a harvest of some big, brightly colored oblong fruit held up by the stalks and vines. There was flesh and liquid moaning on every nonfaith channel he had viewing access to, in every ad-tagged piece of mail he opened, on the trash cans, for God' s sake, and even, once, when he was down in the Freeport, sketched holographically across the sky and booming out of massive speakers along Venice Beach. Maybe it was that, the unending barrage, the overload of it all, or maybe it was just that he was heartsick for what he' d left behind. Whatever it was, by the end of the first year, the gentle confidence he' d enjoyed back home had gone wisping off him like steam off a morning coffee left out on the porch. Had left him lonely and cold.

Carmen Ren burned through his loneliness like a falling star. Months of half-denied fantasy boiled up inside him. Her flesh where he touched it, where she guided his hands, was warm and smooth, and her tongue in his mouth tasted of some dark, unfamiliar spice. She peeled one of the profiler cups for him, dropped the jellied weight of the breast beneath into his hand. It seemed to fit there as if made for him to hold, as if intended that way. Her hands went back to his belt, loosened it and slipped inside. He went rigid as she slid fingers around the shaft of his erection, squeezed hard at her breast in reflex. She moaned into his mouth.

They worked each other out of the clothes piecemeal, stopping to kiss and touch until finally she lay back on the bedroll naked, brushed her own hands down her flanks, and opened her thighs for him. He shifted on elbows and hands, a little awkward with lack of custom, and then gasped as he slipped into her. The evening air was cool and breezy against his skin, and Carmen Ren was heated and wet inside. She smiled, shifted sideways lazily, did something with her muscles. He felt himself gripped along the length of his cock, a slippery, tugging intimacy, and then she pulled him down on top of her, lifted her thighs, and clamped them to his sides- they burned like branding in the cool- and he came, sudden and rushing unstoppable, jolting like there was current through him off some badly insulated cable.

He hung his head, stayed propped on his elbows.

I' m sorry."

She smiled up at him again, wiggled a little and tensed her muscles around his fading hardness. Don' t be. You know how it makes me feel, seeing you lose control like that?"

It' s just." He could feel himself flushing. Been a long time, you know."

Yeah, I guessed that. It doesn' t matter, Scott. We' ve got time. I like you inside me. We' l go again when you' re ready." Another twitch of that coiled muscle, and a sudden widening of her eyes. Oh. In fact."

He didn' t know if it was the way she talked, casual as she lay there under him, as if they were sitting in a breakfast diner together, or maybe just the fact that he had her here, the culmination of so many damp, hopeless daydreams when he went home from Ward BioSupply alone. Or maybe it was that word, handmaiden, drumming around in his head, still on his lips like the dark spice taste of her. He didn' t know, truth be told didn' t much care. He knew, because Janey had once told him, that he was uncommonly fast back in the saddle, but even for him this was something else. He felt himself hardening right there inside her, swelling against that thing she did with those muscles, and he knew this time it was going to be all right, was going to be a long, sweet ride.

Afterward, they lay in a tangle of limbs on the bedroll, backs to the peeling wall, partially draped with the sleeping bag and Ren' s jacket, gazing at the slice of evening sky just visible through the empty doorway that led outside. Scott thought the stars had never looked so bright and kind as they did tonight, not even back home. They seemed like sentinels, vibrating gently in the soft blue-black, wishing well. He told her that, and she chuckled deep in her chest.

Postcoital astronomy," she said.

No," he said, letting her have her joke, but firm despite it. This is special, Carmen. We' re blessed tonight."

She made a small, noncommittal noise and stretched a little.

You know," she told him, a little later. It could be for a long time, this hiding. It' s going to be tough."

I don' t mind."

Yeah." She rubbed a hand on the stubble of his cheek, mock roughly. I imagine you' re used to tough, aren' t you."

Wil RimSec come after us?"

I don' t know." Her tone was thoughtful. There are people I' ve called to tidy up back at the dock. They'

l cover our traces, that' ll be a start. We have friends, Scott. More friends than you' d imagine."

And enemies," he said.

Yeah. Enemies, too."

He twisted his head to look into her face.

Tell me the truth, Carmen. Is this the End Times? When the world goes down in flames, and the beast rises from the ocean with the names of blasphemy written upon him? Is that who we' re up against? The beast?"

She hesitated. I don' t think so. He hasn' t talked about that. But I do know this much: somewhere out there, there' s a dark man looking for him, and for us. This man is a servant of the darkness, and that' s who we have to guard against, Scott. Both of us, whatever happens, we' re servants of the light and we have to keep watch. The black man is coming. And when he comes, we have to be ready to fight, if necessary to the death. Are you ready for that?"

Of course I am. I' ll do anything. But... "

She shifted, pushing herself up against the wall so she could look him in the eye. But what?"

Scott looked up at the ceiling. Can' t He do anything about this black man?"

Not yet," she said gently. At least, that' s what he tells me. It isn' t time. He has other concerns, Scott, other work to do. It' s complicated, I know, I don' t pretend to understand it all myself, but I know what' s been revealed to me, and all I can do is tel you the same. We have to have faith, Scott, that' s what he told me. That' s a Christian strength, isn' t it? Having faith, not questioning what' s revealed?"

Uh, yeah... "

And, yes, maybe this doesn' t make a lot of sense right now, but if we have faith, I think it will. We have a part to play in this, Scott. You have a part. There' s a reckoning in the wind, and, uh, a harrowing to come. Those who stand in its way will fall, those who follow in faith wil be raised up."

Then, that means... " He squeezed her hand tightly. Blood thudded in him; he felt his groin stir faintly.

He has come in judgment. It is the time."

And then, abruptly, he remembered the gaunt, hollow-eyed stare of the stranger, remembered how it felt to be fixed by those eyes at close range, and looking up at the ceiling again he no longer felt the warm pulse of longed-for vindication, the affirmation of all he' d struggled to believe and hold true. Instead, out of nowhere, he remembered those eyes, that stripped-to-the-bone face, and all he felt was cold, and afraid.

A reckoning in the wind.

CHAPTER 10.

F ifty kilometers outside Van Horn, Interstate Highway 10 laid down a luminescent pale strip of gray in the desert night, stretching away toward low, horizon-hugging mountain ranges whose names the man calling himself Eddie Tanaka had never bothered to learn. Stars punctured the velvet blue-black above like knife points, sharp white contrast to the dull red glowing orbs of the autohaul rigs below as they hammered along through the darkness in both directions, following the highway with insectile machine focus. Rising drone, blastpast rush of dark noise and wind, drone collapsing back into the distance. Passing the garish LCLS lights of Tabitha' s with a detachment no human driver could have mustered.

Well, maybe a gleech, he al owed sourly. They don' t got much use for this kind of merchandise.

He glanced up at the brothel' s skyline bil board- the name in vampiric spidery red lettering the original Tabitha would never have agreed to if she hadn' t sold up and moved to the Rim as soon as she had the capital. Behind the spiky-thin lettering, as if caged in by it, female figures switched back and forth in full flesh-toned color, pixeled almost- but, legal requirements and all, not quite- up to human footage perfect.

Gleech wouldn' t be out here on the highway anyway. They don' t drive.

That you know of.

That Kenan knew of, and he fucking was one, smart guy.

Smart guy? Yeah, you' re some fucking smart guy, Max, out in the parking lot of Tabitha' s with whore' s snot on your jacket and not even a blow job to show for it. All your plans and schemes, your carve-out-a-new-life bul shit, look where you' re standing still. Snot on your clothes and no blow job. That' s how fucking smart you are, smart guy.

Smart guy... "

He heard his own mutter, final echo off the abrupt, tinny dispute he' d just mounted in his head, knew he was subvocalizing again, knew why. Knew, too, why he hadn' t bothered, couldn' t be bothered to push Chrissie into blowing him.

Never can fucking leave it at just one shot, can you.

He' d dumped the synadrive into his eyes a couple of hours earlier, and the thing was, this was quality product, right out of his own stash, not the stepped-on shit he shifted to the kids in Van Horn and Kent on a Saturday night. So he fucking well knew he' d only need that single squirt- and initially that was what he settled for, just the one dropperload dribbled down onto the quivering surface of his left eye, what the kids called pirate dosage. But pirate shots always, fucking always, left him feeling weirdly unbalanced, and that was on a good night- which tonight wasn' t- and so as the synadrive came on, that feeling of fucked-up symmetry built and fucking built until it seemed like the whole right side of his body was just too slow and sleepy to bear, and so he gave in and tipped his head back one more time before he hit the road, and the fluid rolled down his right eyeball like tears.

Was a time, he recalled, you had the disicipline. Discipline or self-respect, either way something that wouldn' t let you do this to yourself.

He was remembering that time a lot these days, staring into mirrors at rooms he abruptly couldn' t believe he belonged in, wondering how he' d wound up here and where it had all leaked away to. That time when syn was a tool like any other, useful and used with a wired confidence that would have been arrogance if it hadn' t al felt so fucking clean and right. Back before it all turned to shit and a black pall of smoke across a Wyoming sundown sky.