"Mebbe the mutie came from the ruins."

"Sure seems a lot bigger than it did last night," Dean stated, cradling the longblaster in his arms, but making sure the muzzle wasn't pointed at anybody. He had caught h.e.l.l for accidentally doing that once, and he'd never repeat the mistake.

"Seems like the buildings reach for miles," Krysty stated.

The darkness had to have masked the true size of the predark city. The outlying structures stretched in every direction, and there were rows of tall buildings downtown, some slashed on a diagonal cut from erosion, or with jagged tops from fires. But one marble edifice towered above the others, a single shining skysc.r.a.per untouched by the ravages of time or war.

"Gulliver in Lilliput," Doc observed, resting both hands on his cane, the silver lion's head peeking out between his laced fingers.

"Not Chicago," Jak said, squinting, "Miami, or Big D."

"Not any place I know. Anybody else?" Ryan asked, easing the safety on his blaster before holstering the weapon. There was a negative chorus.

"And no sign of people," Mildred said, craning her neck for a better view. "That I can see."

"We couldn't spot a wag at this range," J.B. said, retrieving a spygla.s.s from a cushioned pouch on his belt. He extended the bra.s.s scope to its full length and closed an eye to look through it.

"Well?" Ryan asked.

"Still too far," J.B. reported, collapsing the tube. "We need binocs to see details at this range."

"Might be deserted, then," Dean said, sounding disappointed.

"Or it could have a thousand people," Krysty warned over her shoulder. "Somebody was operating the searchlights. And much as I hate killing, I sure hope they have a lot of enemies. We'll get a better price with folks who have a fight coming."

"Everybody has enemies," Ryan rationalized coldly. "We'll do fine with this lot of blasters and rockets."

"Blasters always good," Jak stated. "Heard 'bout man bought life by giving baron can opener."

"Really?" Dean asked in disbelief. He touched the Swiss army knife in his pocket. Was it that valuable?

"Believe it," Ryan said, climbing back into the Hummer and starting the engine, which caught on the first try. "You ever try to open a can of stew with just a knife or a rock?" "Yes," Krysty said, taking her seat.

One boot resting on the back wheel, J.B. laughed and displayed a finger. "And I still have the scar."

As the rest jammed into their seats, straddling boxes and crates, Ryan studied the slope of the hillock.

Off to their west was a flat section of desert, a nice long stretch of hard-packed sand. Maybe an ancient highway, or a dried riverbed.

"We'll head for that natural road," Ryan said, starting the engine again. "Should make good time."

"Others might have the same idea," Krysty cautioned, wrapping the strap of the Steyr around her forearm so it couldn't be dropped. "Best be ready for an ambush."

"Gotcha," J.B. said, straightening a kink in the ammo belt of the M-60. "Stay sharp, folks."

"An ambush. From whom?" Doc asked, sounding perturbed. "A tumbleweed, perhaps?"

"No, she's right. Those searchlights can be seen for miles," Ryan said, shifting gears and releasing the hand brake. "Could have every coldheart b.a.s.t.a.r.d, junker and nomad from the whole countryside down there."

"Wherever down there is," Mildred added, using a strip of cloth to tie back her long beaded plaits. The city was vaguely familiar to the woman, but that was all, nothing specific. Then again, most big cities resembled each other. Who could tell Toronto from Seattle if their major landmarks were gone?

"We'll find out when the stars appear tonight," J.B. said confidently, straightening his fedora. "That cloud cover is going to break soon. I can smell it."

"We used to sled down a hill like this," Doc said softly. "All covered with snow and twinkling with ice.

My wife would have hot chocolate waiting for the children and I when we came home afterward. Cold. It was so cold in Vermont that winter." His voice faded away, and he stared into the distance, reliving another life in another world.

"Hold on tight," Ryan said, dropping into low gear and starting down the slope.

The grade was steep, but the Hummer dug in and he began zigzagging to control their speed. However, they were still going faster than he liked when the Hummer bounced over a hidden gully. The companions cursed, and the supplies jumped about wildly, but none left the wag.

"Warn us next time, will you?" J.B. snapped, clinging to the M-60 with both arms, the ammo box jingling with every jolt. Mildred handed him back his dropped fedora, and he stuffed it on.

Ryan dodged another gully, then a cactus. "You want to drive instead?"

"Sure! Pa.s.s me the wheel."

At the bottom of the slope, the Hummer dipped into a ravine and rolled up gracefully onto flat land.

Ryan gunned the engine and started in the direction of the crude road they had spotted from the hill.

Keeping a grip on the M-60, J.B. looked around, studying the horizon for any suspicious movements."The landscape is bare for miles. At least n.o.body can sneak up on us until we reach the city."

"And if the locals won't trade, there must be some stores to loot," Mildred noted, altering her grip on the med kit. A shopping list of supplies was already forming in her mind.

"Mebbe some canned goods that haven't gone bad," Dean suggested.

"In this heat?" Jak scoffed, elbowing the lad.

"Not likely," the elder Cawdor added pointedly, watching a tumbleweed roll across the road. "Mebbe some homemade preserves in a gla.s.s jar, but nothing in a tin can."

Sweeping the vented barrel of the M-60 from side to side, J.B. shrugged. "h.e.l.l, anything is possible.

Just look at the place."

"Indeed," Doc said, leaning on his swordstick. "It could be the veritable cornucopia, a baccha.n.a.lian trove of treasure!"

Everybody hung on as the Hummer rolled up an incline and came to rest on the path. The dried sand had cracked into a crazy jigsaw pattern. Dunes rose on either side, offering some protection from the warming desert winds. But they all realized that if this was dawn, by noon the city would be an inferno.

The miles went by in steady progression, the three-hour-plus trip to the ruins uneventful. A cooling breeze blew into the military wag from their speed, but also a contrail of dust rose from the Hummer's studded tires on the loose sand. Any hope of sneaking into the ruins was now completely gone.

Spotting a moving shadow on the sand, Jak intently watched a sting-wing cruise through the murky sky.

The bird sailed off toward the east as if the ancient city ahead of them held no interest to the little mutie.

That was a good indication. Sting-wings feared nothing and ate everything. Perhaps the ruins were deserted.

As the Hummer approached the outskirts of the ruins, the buildings rapidly rose above the horizon.

Oddly, there seemed to be no houses or stores to show the gradual expansion of the metropolis. The structures simply jutted from the sunbaked soil like fence posts with windows. Most of the windows were a dull white in color.

"Desert storms sandblasted them white," Mildred stated, wiping the sweat off her face with a moist towelette.

n.o.body contradicted her theory. An octagonal sheet of metal on a post heralded their entrance into the nameless city, and Ryan immediately slowed the progress of the Hummer. The streets were completely bare, not a car, a truck or even a piece of a vehicle was in sight.

"Strange," Ryan said, furrowing his brow. "No cars, yet the buildings are intact."

"Another neutron bomb," Krysty suggested, curling a lip in disgust.

"Seems that way. No bodies, property undamaged. Only where are the vehicles?"

"Mebbe the survivors drove away," Dean offered. "Could be. But if the city was. .h.i.t by a nuke, the engines would have been deactivated by the EMP blast," Mildred said. "And if it was a chem storm or germ warfare, then all the people would be dead, but the cars okay."

"So somebody took them afterward," the boy stated as if the fact were obvious.

The Hummer rolled past a parking garage. The gates were smashed, and every level they could see into was vacant.

"Mebbe," the elder Cawdor agreed hesitantly, not liking where this conversation was going. "But what would you need a thousand, mebbe ten thousand b.a.s.t.a.r.d cars for?"

"Wall," Jak said.

"Makes sense," J.B. stated, his finger resting on the trigger of the M-60. "We've seen it done before.

Just not on this scale."

They rolled past a new-car showroom, the window gone, the sales floor deserted.

"But it's got to be one huge ville to need every car," Krysty said.

The ruins seemed to be thinning ahead of them, so Ryan took a left at an intersection heading toward the skysc.r.a.per. Soon, bits and pieces of broken asphalt started to show under the sand covering the road, and within a block they were driving on cracked pavement. It was a rare experience.

"Stay sharp," Ryan warned as he slowed their speed to get a better view of the ruins.

Large snowy windows fronted the street on each side, the same down every side street. Above stores, empty metal frames swung in the soft breeze, the plastic long ago eroded, and the tattered remains of a movie-theater marquee seemed bullet-riddled from the hundreds of empty lightbulb sockets. Street signs of different shapes stood wordless on shiny metal poles, every trace of paint completely removed.

"No rust," Ryan commented, bringing the Hummer to a halt. "Must get a lot of acid rain here."

"That stops rust from forming?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Washes it off," Mildred answered. "Sandstorms and acid rain. Not a good area to try farming."

"Storm damage is minimal," Doc noted, glancing around carefully. "Mayhap the buildings themselves act as a sort of windbreak."

"I'd of thought they'd funnel the wind and worsen the damage," J.B. said.

"Close," Ryan replied, driving around a huge pothole in the middle of an intersection. "Faster wind means less sand to form piles."

"I'm surprised that mutie was around," J.B. stated, removing his hat to wipe his forehead with a sleeve.

Even with the unbroken cloud cover, it was still getting too d.a.m.n warm. He replaced the fedora with a pat. "Wonder what it eats."

"Lizards," Krysty said, watching a fat lizard with a twitching spider in its mouth dart out from underneaththe mailbox and scuttle away into a sewer grating at their approach. The lizard's claws churned the sand and left a little contrail of dust to mark its pa.s.sage. "Lots of them around."

"And what do they eat?" Dean asked.

"Bug, worms, old shoes, leather couches and mink stoles," Mildred said patiently. "Any old thing. After sharks, reptiles are the only true omnivores."

"The desert is an ocean with its life underground, and a perfect disguise above," Doc said softly to himself.

Past a corner, the squat buildings became neat rows of apartments and strip malls. A yellow sheet of newspaper blew by the wag, the faded headlines touting vital information from a century ago.

"Place gives me the creeps," J.B. said unexpectedly. "Got the d.a.m.nedest feeling we're being watched."

Studying the white windows on the buildings, Jak nervously clicked back the hammer of the Python and eased it down again with his thumb. "Yeah. Me, too," he said. "Eerie."

Holding the Steyr, Krysty said nothing, but her hair was coiled tightly in response to her disturbed frame of mind.

"Thought it was just me," Ryan added, increasing their speed slightly. One important question kept repeating itself over and over in his mind. Why hadn't a predark city this large and in excellent condition been looted yet? Suddenly, he had the strangest urge to turn the wag and head straight back to the redoubt.

"Hey, look there!" Dean cried, pointing ahead.

Visible over the rooftops of the two-story apartment complexes was a pair of curved metal arches.

"Must be bridges," Ryan said, shifting gears and heading in that direction. There had been no evidence of the searchlights or the owners in this section of town. Perhaps they were across the river. It made sense to stay near running water in a desert. Then a strong whiff of sulfur made the man wonder if they were heading toward an acid rain lake?

As the Hummer took a corner, a dockyard spread before them in crumbling majesty. Rows upon rows of long warehouses lined the concrete ap.r.o.n of the sh.o.r.e. Deep recesses clearly designed for drydocking vessels notched the embankment with tall derricks standing alongside for ferrying cargo.

An opening dropped away from the dockside, some kind of a storm drain or river. But more importantly, across the span was a jumbled wall of smashed cars and trucks towering thirty feet high, and extending in both directions to curve out of sight.

"We found the source of the searchlights," Ryan remarked, parking the Hummer a safe distance from the docks. The concrete looked solid, but the five tons of the Hummer might send them all plummeting into whatever was at the bottom of the smelly trench. Best to take no chances.

"They raided this side to fix the other," Krysty said. "Smart folks."

"Architectural cannibals," Doc stated thoughtfully. "How unique." Removing his gla.s.ses, J.B. extracted his folding telescope and extended it to its full length. Carefully, he traversed the other side.

"n.o.body in sight," he reported, collapsing the telescope.

Killing the purring engine, Ryan nodded and climbed out of the wag. "I'll take point. J.B. you're on guard."

J.B. slid his gla.s.ses back on. "Check," he replied, patting the breech of the M-60. "Any trouble and I'll sound the alarm."

Spreading out so they didn't offer any snipers a nice cl.u.s.tered target, the companions proceeded closer to the edge of the concrete. The smell was worse here, the reason soon painfully obvious. A hundred feet down was a sluggish yellow river reeking of sulfur and other chems.

"Must be runoff water from the desert," Krysty guessed. "We already knew they got bad acid rain here."

"Now how the h.e.l.l do we get across this?" Mildred asked, clutching her med kit.

"We don't," Jak said, jerking a thumb to their left.