None of the five men moved for a moment. Then Rubenstein-a smallish man with a receding hairline and wire framed glasses-stepped away from the other four and walked toward Rourke. “What about you, O’Toole?” Rourke said through a cloud of cigar smoke.
“No. I don’t want to go back,” O’Toole said. “I don’t know if I’m hanging in with them, either, but I’m not going back to the plane.”
“Suit yourself-and good luck,” Rourke added. Turning to Rubenstein, Rourke said, “Well, friend. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a reply, Rourke started across the fire-scorched square, picking his way over the large gouges in the pavement and away from the church.
He heard Rubenstein, beside him saying, “Where are we going, Mr. Rourke?”
“It’s John. “What’s your first name?”
“Paul.”
“Well, Paul, Albuquerque is a town where a lot of people were interested in prospecting. Geology, things like that. So I’m looking to find a geological equipment shop, where there might be a Geiger counter. I want to see how much radiation we’ve taken. And then, we get back to the plane. I want to check out the rest of us.”
Rubenstein walked silently for a while, then asked, “Tell me, John, what’re you going to do then-after we help those people back there?”
Rourke turned and looked at him, “Well, going back across the country. See, my wife, Sarah, and our two children. They’re back in Georgia.”
“But all those missiles that were going off around the Mississippi River-that whole area between here and Georgia is going to be just a huge desert, a big crater.”
Rourke said slowly, “I’ve thought of that. Here, turn down here.” He moved onto the ruins of a side street. “There were a lot of little stores down here, I remember.”
“I never been to Albuquerque before,” Rubenstein said.
“It was a nice town,” Rourke said, his voice low. “But, anyway, I’ll get back to Georgia-maybe work my way down through Mexico then up along the Gulf Coast. I’ll have to play it by ear.
“What if they’re dead when you get there?”
Rourke stopped in mid-stride and turned to Rubenstein. “You married?”
“No, I have a mother and father in St. Petersburg, Florida.”
“Are you going back for them?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I don’t know.”
“You got anyplace else to go, anything else to do?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Neither have I,” Rourke said. “I’m going on the idea that my wife and children are still alive. I’m going to look for them. And if they’re not home-we had a farm in a rural part of the state-and I don’t find hard evidence that they’re dead, I’ll keep on looking.”
“But aren’t we all gonna die?” Rubenstein said, his voice starting to crack.
“All of humanity wiped out? I’m not plannin’ on it.” At that, Rourke turned and continued walking, stopping a few yards further down what was left of the street in front of a partially burned building.
“Well-look at that,” Rourke said, pointing up at the sign above it.
” ‘Geological Supplies,’ “Rubenstein read aloud.
“Yeah, looks like.” Rourke pushed against the door-all the glass was broken out-and the door moved in a foot. Reaching under his coat, he grabbed the Detonics from under his left arm and stepped through the door frame, Rubenstein close behind him.
“This place is in ruins.”
“Looks like, but let’s see,” Rourke said. The floor of what had once been the store was covered with charred pieces of wood, broken glass, some half-burned small cardboard boxes. The fire, Rourke guessed, had burned through quickly.
The back portion of the shop was relatively untouched except for dark scorch-marks on the walls.
“Jees,” Rubenstein muttered.
“What’s the matter?”
“I tripped-this place is as dark as a closet.”
“Just have to get your eyes accustomed,” Rourke said quietly. “Close your eyes and count to ten, then open them. There’s moonlight from outside-enough to see by if you look close.”
“It looks like some sort of storeroom, back there, Rubenstein,” Rourke said.
“Where? That door?”
“Yeah. Watch your step now,” Rourke said. Then he picked his way across the rubble on the floor.
“It smells funny in here,” Rubenstein said.
“Well, it isn’t gas. More like burned flesh,” Rourke said manter-of-factly.
“Burned what?”
“People, Rubenstein. Come on.” He tried the doorknob, but the door didn’t budge. Taking a step back, he raised his right leg and kicked. His foot smashed hard against the lock and the door fell inward.
“Just like in the movies,” Rubenstein remarked. Rourke turned and looked at Rubenstein, saying nothing. The storage room, high-ceilinged and narrow, was darker than the store had been. Rourke waited in the doorway, letting his eyes become accustomed to the dimness.
“You must see real well in the dark,” Rubenstein said.
“I do. But it has its disadvantages. If I don’t wear sunglasses when I’m outside during the day, the brightness gives me headaches-bothers my eyes.” He started into the storeroom. “Here, just a second,” he said, and in a moment there was a soft clicking sound then a light. “Flashlight-the guy must have sold them. I had to find batteries for them. Here,” Rourke said, handing the flashlight to Rubenstein, “Take this-I’ll fix another one for myself.”
“Isn’t this stealing? I mean, couldn’t we get shot as looters?”
“Yeah, we could,” Rourke said, tightening his grip on the flashlight and flicking it on. “Not a very good flashlight,” Rourke commented, flashing the anglehead light around the room. He stopped the beam at the high shelves at the back of the room.
“Look! What do you want for free?” Rubenstein commented.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Rourke said. “Give me a leg up so I can get to that top shelf.”
“What leg up?” Rubenstein said.
“Here,” Rourke said. “Put your hands together like that.” Rourke put his right foot in Rubenstein’s palms, then pushed himself up on the shelves.
“For a lanky guy, you’re sure heavy,” Rubenstein gasped.
Rourke stretched to reach the shelf, got a grip on a box, then slid down to the floor.
“What is that?”
“A Geiger counter. Looks like the last one he had. I have to put some batteries in it.” He dropped to his knees, ripped open the box, then produced a dark-bladed knife and pried at the cowling on the machine.
“What kind of a knife is that?”
“Sting 1A black chrome-it’s a boot knife,” Rourke said absently. “Hand me some of those batteries from the shelf up there-the big ones.” Rubenstein handed Rourke a half-dozen batteries. Rourke took what he needed and said, “Hold onto the rest of them. You might find a couple more flashlights and get them working. See if there’s anything else we could use. A couple of good-sized hunting knives wouldn’t be a bad idea. And see if you can find some compasses. Oh-the knives-look for thick blades rather than long ones.”
“Gotcha,” Rubenstein said. Rubenstein left the storeroom and Rourke finished placing the batteries, then replaced the cowling on the Geiger counter. He flicked the on switch and took the microphone-like attachment and swept it across his clothes. He watched the Roentgen reading, stripped off his jacket, then took another reading. He stood and stripped off the rest of his clothes and weapons, taking a reading on each item. His guns, the holsters, his knife, even the sweater he’d taken from his luggage in the cargo compartment-all were normal. The clothes he’d worn in the cockpit were reading high. He ran the counter over his skin and the reading was normal. His watch-the Rolex he habitually wore-was reading too high. He took it off and took another reading. His body was normal. He picked up his guns and knife and left the clothes in the storeroom, then walked back into the store, squinting as Rubenstein’s light flashed across his face. “You’re naked!”
“Yeah, aren’t I though,” Rourke said. “I took a Geiger counter reading. My clothes and everything must have gotten contaminated up in the cockpit. But my sweater, my guns-everything from the cargo hold-were fine. I even had to ditch my watch.”
“That was a Rolex wasn’t it? That’s about fifteen hundred bucks”‘
“A radioactive watch won’t due me much good. Besides, I’ve got another one back at the plane,” Rourke said. “Here,” he said, “I’m gonna sweep your clothes with the counter. You might be hot, too.”
Rourke checked Rubenstein with the wand of the Geiger counter and stepped back. “You should strip. Your clothes are contaminated.”
“But I can’t run around naked.”
“Your choice, friend,” Rourke said. “Would you rather get radiation poisoning?”
Rubenstein started to undress. Once the man was naked, Rourke ran the Geiger counter over him. “Get rid of your watch,” he said.
“Sure,” Rubenstein said, “You threw away a Rolex-I can throw away a Timex. What the hell, huh?”
“Come on,” Rourke said. “That next block over looked pretty much untouched by the fire-maybe we can find a clothing store or something.”