brain as an anvil seemed to be tiring of the sport.
Above him was a pale red moon, not full but nearly so. Up there, so he’d heard
and read, somewhere, were orbital stations careering endlessly around the world.
Full of old bones now, their crews long, long dead. They might hurtle like that
forever, until the universe contracted. Or maybe they were sinking all the time,
orbiting lower and lower as each century passed, and at a certain time would all
at once be gripped by the planet’s gravitational pull and would bucket down
through the layers of atmosphere exploding into fireballs, raining death and
destruction on a world that was choked already with death and destruction.
It was chilly. Far away, high and to his right, he caught a glitter of fire in
the sky and thought: Look at that! Whatever I think comes to pass!
But it was only a chem cloud, spontaneously combusting. More clouds gathered,
cloaking the moon. An eerie scarlet glow illuminated the land. Green wildfires
crackled and hissed high above. A warm rain began to fall.
Strasser appeared above him, looming tall, a gaunt skeleton in a long coat with
skirts flapping in the breeze.
“Unhobble them.”
Someone leaned down and across and Ryan glimpsed a blade, felt his bonds being
tugged at.
Then his legs were free and he groaned aloud as they straightened out in an
automatic jerk and his circulation began to shift into high once more. Hands
gripped his arms, his shoulders, heaved him. He staggered to his feet, wincing
at the shafts of agony that flared up and down his legs.
“Pain cleans you, Ryan. Flushes you out. Renews you. That’s long been a theory
of mine.”
Strasser stared at him from under hooded eyes. Ryan stared back, thinking, the
sequence of events will be as follows. First the main train, then the convoy. I
can now do nothing whatsoever about the train. Too much time had elapsed. But in
my heart of hearts I knew this was how it was going to be, and this was how I
wanted it. I knew that whatever happened the train must go. Better this way.
Yes. But the convoy is next and that too will go. Or most of it. Because there
is no way that I can do what needs to be done all at once. And the time element
is so tight, so bloody tight, that there is more than a possibility that we,
Krysty and I, will—
Strasser said, “I still have the box, Ryan, and we can still use what’s inside
it, right here and now. It makes no difference to me.”
“What the hell do I get out of this, Strasser? My life?”
Strasser laughed softly.
“Hardly.”
“So?”
The gaunt man shrugged.
“A bullet in the back of the skull is a far more pleasant method of dying than
any number of ways that I could think of. A quick and happy release from the
cares and worries of this world rather than an extremely slow, extremely
lingering and extremely unhappy one.”
“That’s not a great deal of choice you’re offering.”
“No choice at all,” said Strasser, “but still worth a good deal, Ryan, believe
me.”
The rain was getting to be slightly heavier, very large water droplets that
thudded down on Ryan’s unprotected head, though it was not yet a downpour.
This was scrubby terrain for the most part, although across the road were trees,
a sprawling coppice that offered shelter if only he could reach it. But to get
there he would have to sprint all out with only a few bushes between it and at
least fifteen guys, all weaponed up, all kill ready. It could be done,
especially in this light, but not with hands secured behind his back. Not even a
charge of adrenaline surging through him could boost him for that length of run
while his balance was shot to hell.
Strasser’s truck was parked on the road, near two other trucks and three
buggies. Presumably these were the vehicles that had passed Krysty earlier. The
convoy was behind him. War Wag One, two container rigs and an armored truck were