Pilgrimage to Hell By JACK ADRIAN

What he’d just croaked out had been involuntary. He hadn’t realized he was

speaking aloud. He hadn’t even realized the girl was awake.

He said tentatively, “I, uh… thought they cracked you over the skull when we got

outside.”

That had been when she’d suddenly, outside the bank building and in the harsh

glare of the floods, managed to back-heel the groin of one of the sec men

holding her. She was pretty good with her heels, he thought wryly. The guy had

yowled, let her go and she’d twisted away from the second man and started

sprinting across the open space toward the three black vans parked near the

barbed wire. Strasser had yelled a warning, and three guys had emerged from

behind the trucks and clobbered her. Ryan and Krysty had been left on the ground

for maybe a half hour, Ryan getting more and more chilled by the minute, not to

mention more and more panicky about the time factor that only he knew about.

Then they’d been flung into the rear of one of the trucks and the doors had

banged. No need for guards, Strasser had said. Waste of manpower. They weren’t

going to be able to free themselves to go anywhere.

“They did hit me over the head,” Krysty Wroth said. “But I have great powers of

recuperation.”

Though it hurt him, Ryan laughed. It was kind of a choked grunt, sounding to his

ears like the noise a guy made when someone poked him in the ribs. It felt like

it, too.

She said, “Anyhow, thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“For getting my…” She paused. “I was going to say, for getting my head off the

block, but maybe for getting my ass off the block is more to the point.”

Her tone was dry and sardonic. Ryan knew it was the humor of gritted teeth. You

made a joke of the intolerable or else you went under.

He didn’t know what to say. “Look, I should have stopped those bastards before

things got too rough,” he tried. “I could have. There were…other considerations…

I’m sorry.”

She said, “I know. It doesn’t matter. Forget it. Life’s too short.”

He thought back to when she had actually been tied down to that foul block. She

had not struggled, had not screamed or even whimpered. He was surprised,

contemplating this, to realize that there had been a degree of serenity about

her at that terrible time, as now. It was a strange yet oddly comforting aura of

calm that seemed to surround her like a cloak. He hadn’t analyzed it then—too

many other things to worry about!—but he recognized it now as he reran the scene

in his mind.

Such serenity at such a time seemed to him almost supernatural.

“You, uh… didn’t seem too worried back there.”

She said simply, “I knew Earth Mother was watching over me.”

“I guess you realize your Earth Mother isn’t going to save you every time.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not a question of ‘saving.’ Earth Mother is not

a physical presence. She doesn’t appear in a flash of light—” she chuckled, and

there was irony in her voice “—brandishing an M-16. She just is. At times that’s

comforting. There had been occasions when I’ve been stark crazy with fear and

panic. Other times when it feels okay, feels right, feels like it’s not going to

work out too bad. That’s how I felt then.”

“How’s it feel now?” said Ryan dryly. “I could do with some reassurance.”

“Oh, I’d think we’ll make out, don’t you?”

He had to laugh again, and the minor convulsions trembled across his rib cage

where Strasser’s goons had put more than one boot in.

“Don’t make me laugh. Please.”

The truck lurched over something in the road—a rock or a pothole or maybe a

small animal—and Ryan cursed vitriolically as he went up in the air and down

again, landing on his wrists. Shafts of agony lanced up his arms. His shoulder

blade felt seriously out of kilter for a second.

He muttered through clenched teeth, “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if your

Earth Mother did appear waving a piece, because unless they untie me I think

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