and the wind that rushed past the open windows.
'Guess they're pretty thin on the ground,' said Mr. Henschel. 'Otherwise they'd have chased us something rotten.'
Dr. Petrie wiped his sweating forehead against his sleeve. 'Nice shooting, David. I think you got us all out of trouble there.'
Adelaide said, her voice quavering, 'We may be forced to do it, Leonard, but we don't have to call it nice.'
Dr. Petrie didn't answer for a while. Then he said, 'I'm sorry Adelaide, but I think we must all be quite clear what we're up against. Until we get clear of the quarantine area, we're going to be treated like diseased rats. Their orders are quite explicit. Don't let anyone through, and if anyone tries to get through, kill them.'
'What do you mean?' Adelaide asked.
Dr. Petrie glanced around. 'I mean quite simply that if we want to survive, we're going to have to behave the way they're behaving. We have to be vicious, and we have to be quick. Don't worry — they won't have the slightest compunction about shooting us.'
Mr. Henschel was reloading his rifle, 'You're right, Leonard. It's them or us. And I don't care what anyone says — I don't want it to be them, if that's the odds.'
The shooting had woken up Prickles. She started to cry for her mother, and they drove in painful silence for a while until Mrs. Henschel calmed her down.
'Mommy's gone for a little vacation,' she murmured soothingly. 'But look — Daddy's here. Daddy's going to look after you now.'
Adelaide said, 'Oh, God. You know, if anyone had told me last week that this was going to happen, I wouldn't have believed them. God, it's like a nightmare.'
Leonard remained silent. It was one thing to explain to the others the need for crude survival, it was quite another to have to actually carry it out. To coldly be prepared to kill.
They were approaching the outskirts of Fort Lauderdale, and so far they had seen no other traffic, and no sign of National Guardsmen. Dr. Petrie, with nothing but marker lights to steer by, had to strain his eyes into the darkness to see if there were any obstructions on the road, and his head was beginning to pound. Adelaide passed him a can of warm Coke from the back seat, and he swigged it as he drove.
The power supply was out at Fort Lauderdale, too. The town was dark and deserted. Abandoned and burned-out cars were strewn all over the streets, and here and there they could make out huddled bodies lying on the sidewalks and in store entrances. A few dim and flickering lights still burned in private houses and hotel rooms, like the lamps of cave dwellers in a primitive and hostile age, but the town was overwhelmingly silent, and from as far away as Route 1 they could hear the sound of the Atlantic surf.
Not far from the beach they saw a large building on fire, with dim gray smoke rising into the velvety night sky. Mr. Henschel guessed it was the Holiday Inn Ocean-side. There were no sirens, no fire tenders, and no one seemed to be attempting to put the blaze out.
Like travelers through a strange dream, they drove up North Atlantic Boulevard close to the ocean. Through the darkness, they could see the white breakers of the polluted sea. They were all exhausted, and they said very little. Prickles had gone back to sleep, and was snoring slightly. Mrs. Henschel said it sounded as if she had a cold.
'Just so long as she didn't catch plague from Margaret,' said Adelaide. 'That would be great, wouldn't it? Margaret getting her revenge from beyond the grave.'
'Adelaide,' said Dr. Petrie coldly. 'She's dead and that's that.'
Adelaide was silent for a while. Then she said, 'Okay, I'm sorry.'
Just before dawn, they stopped the car by the side of Route 1 near Palm Bay. They laid out blankets on the ground, underneath a scrubby grove of palm trees, and slept.
As Dr. Petrie lay there, feeling the hard stones of the dry soil under his blanket, he heard insects chirp, and the occasional swish of a passing car. The plague had left many survivors, but those who had somehow managed to avoid infection were trying to get out of Florida as fast as they could. What none of them yet knew was that plague was breaking out all along the coast of Georgia and the Carolinas, as tides and currents washed a thick black ooze of raw sewage on to the beaches.
He had two hours of restless dozing, filled with weird and terrifying dreams. The sky was light when he opened his eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Henschel, Adelaide and Pickles were all still asleep. Dr. Petrie lifted himself on one elbow, rubbing his aching eyes, and looked around.
They had company. Beside the car were two unshaven National Guardsmen in uniform and helmets, their eyes hidden behind mirror sunglasses. They were both carrying automatic weapons, and neither looked in the mood for friendly banter.
'How do,' said one of them laconically. He was chewing gum in ceaseless circles.
Dr. Petrie nudged Adelaide, who was lying snuggled up against him. She stirred, and opened her eyes.
The guardsman stepped forward, and looked around their makeshift encampment. 'You folks travelin' north?'
Dr. Petrie didn't answer. Mr. and Mrs. Henschel had woken up now, and they blinked across at him in silent bewilderment.
'It's kind of inadvisable — travelin' north,' said the guardsman, pacing around them.
'Is there a regulation against it?' asked Dr. Petrie.
The guardsman chewed gum for a while. 'Nope,' he said eventually. 'I don't reckon there's no regulation against it.'
'But it's inadvisable?'
'Yep. That's the word. Inadvisable.'
'Well… what do you advise us to do instead?'
The man shrugged. 'It ain't up to me to advise you to do nothing. What you do is entirely your decision. Is this your car?'
'It belongs to a friend.'
'You able to prove that?'
'I don't think so. He's dead. He died of the plague two days ago.'
The guardsman walked slowly back to where his friend was standing.
'Any of you folks sick, or infected?'
'I don't believe so.'
'How about that little girl? She don't look too bright.'
'She has a cold, that's all. A summer cold.'
'Is that right?'
'I'm a doctor. I should know.'
'You're a doctor, huh? How come you ain't helpin' out someplace, 'stead of sleepin' rough?'
Dr. Petrie said, 'I was helping in a hospital in Miami. Last night, it was burned to the ground, along with the rest of the city. There isn't much I can do there now.' The men were not interested.
'Nope,' said the one with the gum, 'I guess there ain't.'
There was a long, awkward silence. Mr. Henschel eventually asked, 'Are you going to let us leave, or do we have to stay here all day?'
'You can leave if you like,' said the guardsman. 'But you don't recommend northwards?'
'Nope.'
'Are the highways blocked off? Is that what's happening?'
Both men nodded. 'The entire state of Florida is in quarantine, friend. You can drive north if you feel like wastin' your time, but I can tell you here and now there ain't nobody gets through the state line alive or dead.'
'That must include you,' said Dr. Petrie.
The guardsman shook his head. 'No way, doctor. Every National Guardsman has been immunized.'
Dr. Petrie frowned. 'Immunized? What do you mean?'
The guardsman mimed a syringe being squeezed into his arm. 'The jab. Ninety-eight percent effective, the doc said.'
Dr. Petrie looked across at Adelaide, and she raised her eyebrows.
