The Jehovah Contract

We sloshed past shops that had been hastily evacuated years ago. Their silent doors hung open, merchandise scattered. Not even looters wanted anything

that

hot.

We passed a travel agency. Mildewed, rotting posters exhorted us to visit faraway countries, some of which no longer existed.

My feet squished inside my shoes. The water level hadn't increased much. Most of it was probably waiting for us below.

'Down the stairs,' I said when we reached the next escalator. On either side of us, cracked mirrors reflected us to infinity.

My shoes crunched over broken glass and tile. The humidity increased with each descending step. I talked in an attempt to ignore the chill that crept up inside me.

'You're expecting some sort of sacrificial ritual down here, right?'

'All the psychic clues point to that.' She fussed with the purse's narrow strap.

'What if

I'm

the sacrifice? We could be walking into a trap.'

'Perhaps,' Ann whispered. 'The psychic images, though, seemed to come from the intended victim, not from the sacrificer. The blood symbols were feminine.'

'So are you. You're not planning to play mumblety-peg on me with one of those toys, are you?'

She stopped at the third step from the bottom-the last step above the level of the stagnant, crusted water.

I took the extra step and slogged into the mess, shin-deep in the atomic sewer.

'What do you mean?' she demanded. In the overspill of the MagnaLite, her eyes glowed savagely.

Hmm. Maybe I

could

get her to leave, I thought, if I got her worked up enough.

'Sister, for all I know you could be leading me here for a little sacrifice of your own.

You

own a black blade-'

'The

hilt

is black-'

'You seemed a bit too eager to help a stranger do something as odd as hunt down God and kill Him. Either you're crazier than I am or you're not playing your full hand. Which is it?'

'We all have aces up our sleeves in this game, Dell, but I'm not the only player. Let's keep going.'

I drew my automatic and held it at my side. The heat and the cloying atmosphere were getting to me. I wanted her to get the hell out.

'I've never plugged a dame,' I said. 'At least, not without a contract.' I turned wearily, held the muzzle pointed ahead of me, and stepped further into the brackish, cool water. It sloshed against my thighs.

Ann made no sound following me in. She slid the flame dagger into her purse, leaving the black-hilted one in her right hand. She grasped it in the correct position for both gutting and pommeling.

The little hairs along the back of my neck stood nervously at attention.

Between the water and the floor rested a layer of scum-coated metal and masonry. I walked over the terrain as