Ben flared with anger. He could have hit her, but he never hit females unless they were trying to do him harm. “Listen, you snot-nosed brat. What do you know about being black? About what it’s like to be born into a world wearing skin that people hate because it’s different from their own? To be sneered at? To be spit on? To be called the N word every time you turn around?
That’s how it was for me when I was little. But I didn’t care. I gave it right back, and got stronger deep down, where it counts.
Strong enough to be a Marine. To be one of the few, the proud.
And to be so damn tough, no mother’s son better mess with me or he’ll eat his goddamn teeth.”
“Touched a nerve, huh?”
Ben swore. The race issue always set him off.
“Hey, it’s cool. You don’t take crap from anybody. I admire that. All I’m saying is that you survived in your way and I survived in mine, and for you to look down your nose at me because I did it different isn’t fair.”
Ben thought about it and grudgingly replied, “You have a point. No insult meant.”
“None taken.” Space grinned. “Just think. Two badass survivors like us, this end-of-the-world deal should be a breeze.”
The radio was nothing but war talk. Even the stations that usually played music were doing news, and none of it was good.
The war in the Middle East had spread. Russia and China were involved. Israel was fighting for its life. North Korea was marshalling troops along its border with South Korea. A South American dictator had invaded his neighbor.
On the national front, the president appealed for calm. Looting and random violence were everywhere. Martial law would be imposed as soon as the National Guard was fully mobilized.
“What will you do if they close the highways?” Space asked.
Ben hadn’t thought of that. But it didn’t matter. “When I give my word to make a delivery, I keep it.”
They made it out of Washington. Ben refueled at Coeur d’Alene and pushed on into the Bitterroot Mountains. Exits were fewer and farther between. Hardly any other vehicles were on the road. There was talk on the radio that Chinese subs had been spotted off the West Coast, that a Russian fleet was bound for the East Coast. Terrorist activity was on the rise. There was worry a U.S. city would be nuked. On and on went the litany of fear.
The Bitterroots were so remote that Ben didn’t anticipate trouble. So long as the gas stations stayed open, he would be all right. But he wasn’t a machine. He’d kept himself awake with caffeine pills, but he needed sleep and he couldn’t put it off any longer. He told Space.
“Fine by me. Get a room with cable. I love movies.”
“Sorry, girl, but I’m not stopping at a motel. I bunk in my cab.”
“Spoilsport.”
The next exit was a small town called Smelterville. Ben had never been there. He slowed to a crawl and braked at a stop sign.
A gas station had a CLOSED sign in the window, but that was all right; the truck had nearly three-quarters of a tank. He wheeled on into Smelterville. The streets were deserted. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
“This is spooky.”
Ben was looking for a place to pull over. A sign announced a park. He turned down a side street, the diesel rumbling, and came to a stop next to a grassy knoll speckled by trees and picnic benches. “This will do.” He pulled to the curb and turned off the ignition.
In the sudden silence the quiet around them seemed unnatural.
The park was empty of life. Not so much as a bitd or a squirrel anywhere. Across the street were a few frame houses and a mobile home, as still as tombstones.
“Where is everyone?” Space nervously asked.
“Trembling in their boots.” Ben pocketed the keys. “I’m climbing in the back for a few hours. You stay put until I wake up. I don’t want you wandering off, you hear?”
Space grinned and gave him a sharp salute. “Sir, yes sir.
“Goof.” Ben parted the curtain and climbed into the bunk. He curled on his side and closed his eyes. As he was drifting off, he thought he heard the rasp of a door handle. Then sleep claimed him.
New York
Deepak Kapur’s heart leaped into his throat. He thought for sure he was going to die. The ship bearing down on the Kull was so close that he swore he could see rivets on its hull, which was preposterous, given that it was night and that except for the ship’s deck lights high above, it was so dark it was a wonder those onboard had spotted the ferry. Then it hit him. They didn’t know the Kull was there. They were blowing the horn for some other reason. A collision was inevitable.
He took a step back and braced for the impact, fully expecting to be crushed to pulp. Suddenly the ferry gave a lurch that nearly unbalanced him and the deck tilted at the bow. A high-pitched roaring whine came from under his feet. The next instant the ferry shot forward as if jet propelled.
Alf bleated in terror.
The ship was almost on top of them. White lettering identified it as the Coral Sea. Her bow passed so close to the ferry’s stern that Deepak could have reached out and touched it. Then they were in the clear and heading downriver. Collecting his wits, he climbed to the wheelhouse and went in without knocking.
Patrick Slayne was at the helm consulting a digital display. He didn’t look up. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“You almost got us killed.”
“I knew the ship was there. I had it on radar. Once I activated the hydrofoil it couldn’t touch us.”
“Hydrofoil?” Deepak was making it a habit of repeating things the man said.
“Didn’t you feel the deck move?” Slayne looked up from
