CRADLE OF SATURN BY JAMES P. HOGAN

An effort was under way to salvage as much as possible of the stockpiled stores. Heavily muffled figures were manhandling crates out of a burning warehouse and stacking them beside the track while others played hoses over them. A forklift following waved directions came out through the doors at the end of the building and deposited a loaded pallet. After being pointed from one place to another, the officers from the train eventually found an Army colonel and a couple of railroad managers who were trying to keep the operation moving. As Keene and the others caught up, the gist of the exchange, shouted above the roaring of the wind and the sounds of cries and screams in the background, was that it would be too risky to bring the main train in until the fires had burned down. If the track was blocked the next morning, they would move what they could out to it by road. There was no shortage of trucks, since they had been bringing loads in to San Antonio for days—although how many of them might survive the fire was another matter. Meanwhile, they could make a start by using the scout train to take back what it could carry while the connection was still there.

Mitch, Keene, and Cavan exchanged glances at the mention of the trucks. While the officers from the train were organizing their men to begin loading, Mitch identified himself to the colonel and asked which way the trucks were. The colonel, who was clad in a water-doused firefighter’s smock, pointed farther ahead, beyond the blazing remains of some tank cars that had exploded. “There’s a whole bunch around the loading docks that way. A lot of the drivers quit here and went out on the train that left this morning.”

“Is there anywhere we can go to for gas?” Mitch asked.

“Like everything else—grab what you can.” The colonel shook his head uncomprehendingly. “You don’t want to go back to El Paso?”

Mitch shook his head. “We’re going on through.”

“Where to?”

“The coast, Corpus Christi.”

“What in the name of Christ for? There’s nothing left there.”

“Special mission. . . . So there’s nothing like any kind of train heading that way?”

“You’re out of your mind. I just said, there’s nothing left there. Mission? No kind of mission makes sense anymore. Put your men on this job instead, and you might stand a chance. Get sane.”

“Sorry. We have to give it a shot.”

The colonel shook his head hopelessly. There was nothing more to say. Mitch clapped him on the shoulder and moved on, waving for the others to follow. Dash and Birden stayed close behind him, Keene and Colby next, followed by Cavan and Alicia, Charlie and Cynthia. Legermount and Reynolds brought up the rear to prevent anyone from straggling. Even after everything, Keene was unable to avoid a stab of guilt as he looked back at the colonel and the others returning to their tasks.

The heat from the burning tank cars was too intense for them to pass, forcing them to detour behind a locomotive shed that seemed to have escaped major damage. A roadway flanked on one side by office and commercial buildings in various stages of burning and collapse led in the direction that the colonel had indicated. Survivors were still emerging from the side streets amid overturned autos with motionless forms inside or thrown nearby. More bodies lay scattered along the roadway. The sight no longer attracted attention.

The road ended in a large parking area outside the loading bays of warehouses serving an end of the rail yards that the scout train had been unable to get to. There must have been hundreds of trucks, lined in some semblance of order in some places, scattered haphazardly in others, many smashed or on fire. Not all had been unloaded, and in places groups of figures were braving the heat and the risk of exploding gas tanks to pass cartons and boxes down to others who were loading cars and other vehicles. Who were they? . . . Who could tell?

Mitch stopped beneath one of the high concrete lamp masts that was still standing. “The quickest way to get separated is if we all start running around without a system,” he yelled through the wind. “This is the reference point we’ll work from and use as base.” He looked at Charlie Hu, who was clutching his side and wheezing heavily. “Charlie, you’re not up to any more. Cynthia, stay with him. And Legermount, stay here too to keep an eye on them. The rest of us divide into twos: Lan, you can come with me; Leo, go with Birden; Alicia, stick with Dash; Reynolds, you take Colby. We’ll take a quadrant each, and when you find something to report, you head back here.” He pointed at the base of the mast. “In any case, check back after thirty minutes. We want a vehicle that’s intact, all wheels good, preferably with the keys. If you can, check for lights, battery, and gas. Flatbed trailers would be better. If this wind gets any worse, anything higher is gonna get blown off the road. Okay?”

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