The Old Man climbed into the commander’s seat and took hold of Sergeant Major Preston’s jury-rigged controls.
Please work!
He pushed forward and heard the engine spool up into an urgent whine. Something crumpled in front of the tank and then the sound of grinding gravel and dirt being churned angrily enveloped everything. But he didn’t feel the tank move forward.
I’m stuck.
Sudden panic roved about his bones and fingers, creeping its way into his skull.
Stop!
He pulled back on the control sticks, urging the massive tank into reverse. For a moment nothing happened, then, slowly, the tank began to move. Backward. The Old Man could hear debris falling away from the front of the tank.
Through the optics he could see the massive building sliding away from the gun barrel.
If I rotate the turret I’ll be able to see what’s going on behind me, but I might drag it into another building and bring that one down on me too.
The Old Man reversed back along the street until he recognized things he had crushed or other hauntingly familiar aspects from the moments before the building had exploded.
The first thing that crashed down onto the tank was a sink that came from out a window high above. Its porcelain shattered into a million bright shards, some of which nicked the optics. Now all manner of objects were raining down from the buildings along the street. The Old Man could see misshapen men suddenly appearing in gaping window frames to hurl down sinks, and paint cans full of rocks, and large pipes.
I need to see what’s behind the tank. They could have another trap ready, or even more explosives to bring down another building.
Ahead, there was no way around the dust-blooming pile of the fallen building. The rain of objects increased to an almost cacophonic pain in the Old Man’s ears.
To his left, he could see he’d backed up past the remains of another tall building whose bottom floor had once been a cafe or a diner. He could see vinyl dining booths ripped and shredded within the darkness.
The Old Man gunned the engine and pivoted the tank.
There is no other way than this!
He checked the dosimeter and saw that the radiation levels were well into the redline.
The tank, which was capable of sudden and alarming bursts of speed, tore through the front entrance of the restaurant. In a moment the Old Man was crushing through the darkened kitchen, heading for the back wall.
The brick in these buildings must be rotten. Made even more so because of the radiation. So I’ll see if it puts up much of a fight against our tank. Right, my friend?
Right, Santiago?
Silence.
The tank burst through the back wall of the restaurant in a dusty spray of redbrick and launched itself off a loading dock, landing in a wide alley beyond, after a sickening moment of free fall.
“Ha ha!” the Old Man shouted in triumph.
He pivoted the tank right and sped off down the alley. The alley led to a small side street and the Old Man chose a road leading down toward the center of the town.
The tank bounced softly along the street, crushing or pushing other debris out of its way. Ahead, the Old Man could see the northern rim of the valley and the ribbon of highway climbing up out of it. A few streets later he took a right turn, and a block after that he urged the tank up an ashy embankment and back onto the old highway heading north.
Chapter 52
Beyond Trinidad the road ran through a plain forever burned. A brief fork of lightning arced across the sky from west to east.
I have never seen lightning move sideways. Always up and down. But never across.
He stopped the tank.
He opened the hatch and a moment later noticed that the fuel drums had disappeared.
Probably when the building fell on me.
I’ll have to make it there on what’s left in the tank.
There is nothing for miles around.
The Rockies are like the dark shapes of ships crossing the ocean at midnight. You would have seen such a sight, you would know what I mean, Santiago.
“Natalie?” the Old Man said into the mic.
“I’m here. Where are you now?”
“I don’t know exactly. I don’t have my map with me anymore. But I’m just past a place called Trinidad.”
“You must hurry now. We don’t have much longer.”
“How far away am I?”
“Two hours if you maintain a high rate of speed.”
“Do your people have protection against the radiation? It’s very high here.”
“Yes. We have a convoy of vehicles that run on electric power. If the weapon does its job, we should be able to exit the facility in lightly shielded vehicles and make our way to someplace safe.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” began the Old Man. “If you don’t know where to go… well, there are some people waiting for you at a place once called Wagon Wheel Mountain. They’ve been told you might come and they’ll wait there for you. Then they’ll try for Tucson. You and your people could go there too.”
Ash stirred and whirled briefly on the melted road.
Far out on the plain another flash of lighting arced brightly across the darkening hot afternoon.
Silver sunbeams shot through clouds to the east.
“You should activate the beacon now,” said General Watt. Natalie.
Yes. I should.
It feels sudden. As if it’s all happening too fast.
That is always how things happen that you don’t want to have happen. Right, Santiago? You would say that to me. You would say that and then say, my friend.
The Old Man opened the case containing the beacon. Turning the device around, he located the on switch. A green light responded. But the red light that indicated the malfunctioning laser continued to blink.
Even if it worked, what good would it do me now? I’ve probably absorbed too much radiation.
The Old Man reached down and drank warm water from his canteen. His mouth tasted of metal. His tongue was numb.
“I have your signal,” said Natalie after a moment.
“What do I do now, Natalie?”
“Keep the beacon on. I’ll direct you to the emergency entrance near Turkey Trail. It’s south of the main complex. The mountain collapsed there when we were hit. The weapon should create an opening or allow us to set charges and clear the area.”
And what will happen to me when this weapon goes off?
You would say to me, You know the answer already, my friend. There is no need to ask.
Yes, you would say that to me, Santiago.
“And what will happen to you, Natalie? Will you stay behind or…”
She said she would self-terminate if they didn’t make it out.
Yes, but that was when there was no hope.
Isn’t there always hope? Tell me of hope, Santiago. Tell me how you felt in the days and nights on the boat
