'Because the crazies haven't updated their maps in fifty years,' Sos replied. 'This area is overdue for resurvey, and one of these months they'll get around to it and set the markers back ten or fifteen miles. I told you radiation isn't a permanent thing; it fades away slowly.'
Sol was not convinced, now that commitment was imminent. 'You say this 'radiation' is something you can't see or hear or smell or feel, but it kills you just the same? I know you studied the books, but that just doesn't make sense to me.'
'Maybe the books are lying,' Sola put in, sitting down. The days of forced marching had tightened the muscles of her legs but diminished none of her femaleness. She was a good-looking woman and knew it.
'I've had doubts myself,' Sos admitted. 'There are many things I don't understand, and many books I've never had the chance to read. One text says that half the men will die when exposed to 450 Roentgen, while mosquitoes can survive over a hundred thousand-but I don't know how much radiation one Roentgen is, or how to spot it. The crazies have boxes that click when they get near radiation; that's how they know.'
'One click to a Roent, maybe,' she said, simplifying it. 'If the books are honest.'
'I think they are. A lot of it makes no sense at all, at first, but I've never caught them in an error. This radiation-as nearly as I can make it, it was put here by the Blast, and it's like fungus-light. You can't see the fungus glow in the daytime, but you know that light is still there. You can box it with your hands to shut out the sun, and the green-'
'Fungus-light,' Sol said solemnly.
'Just imagine that it is poisonous, that it will make you sick if it touches your skin. At night you can avoid it, but in the day you're in trouble. You can't see it or feel it... that's what radiation is, except that it fills up everything where it exists. The ground, the trees, the air.'
'Then how do we know it's gone?' Sola demanded. There was an edge to her voice which Sos put down to fear and fatigue. She had gradually lost the air of sweet naivete she had affected the first evening at the hostel.
'Because it affects the plants and animals, too. They get at the fringe, and everything is dead at the center. As long as they look all right, we should, be safe. There should be several miles clear of it beyond the markers now. It's a risk-but a worthwhile one, in the circumstances.'
'And no cabins?' she asked a little forlornly.
'I doubt it. The crazies don't like radiation any better than we do, so they'd have no reason to build here until they survey it. We'll have to forage and sleep out.'
'We'd better pick up bows and tents, then,' Sol said.
They left Sola to watch Sol's barrow while they backtracked three miles to the last hostel. They entered its heatpump interior comfort and selected two sturdy bows and arrow-packs from its armory. They donned camping gear: light plastic leggings, helmets and traveling packs. Each man placed three swift shots in the standing target near the battle circle, feeling out the instruments, then shouldered them and returned to the trail.
Sola was asleep against a tree, hiking skirt hitched up indecorously. Sos looked away; the sight of her body stirred him in spite of what he knew of her bad temper. He had always taken his women as they came and formed no lasting relationships; this continued proximity to another man's wife acted upon him in a way he did not like.
Sol kicked her. 'Is this the way you guard my weapons, woman?'
She jumped up, embarrassed and angry. 'It's the same way you take care of mine!' she retorted. Then, afraid, she bit her lip.
Sol ignored her. 'Let's find a place quickly,' he said, glancing at the nearest marker. Sos gave the woman the leggings and helmet he had brought for her; Sol hadn't thought of it. Sos wondered why they stayed together, when they evidently didn't get along. Could sex mean so much?
He forced his eyes away from her again, afraid to answer that.
They stepped across the line and moved slowly into the badlands. Sos repressed the nervous twinge he felt at the action, knowing that if he felt it, the others were struck much more forcefully. He was supposed to know; he had, to prove he was right. Three lives depended on his alertness now.
