enonnousness of what he was doing, and uncertain whether the party would
approve.
But now that he was closing in on his prey, some three or four days behind, it
was time to press forward at all speed. As his horse crested a rise, the
officer’s heart filled with pride.
This might be just the beginning.
Chapter Thirteen
THE CRUCIFIX WAS BLACKENED and seared by the fires from the heavens. Icicles
hung in the crevices around the twisted, tortured form nailed to the metal
cross. The fingers were gone, so were the tips of the thorned crown, melted away
a century back. The flesh of the crucified Christ was satin black, like the wing
of a crow, polished by the ceaseless wind to a velvet consistency.
It stood bolted firmly to the tottering remnants of what had once been the side
of a small brick church almost under the haunting shadow of a mountain. Its
twenty-thousand-foot summit was permanently obscured by snow spume and chem
clouds.
Around the crucifix, kneeling on the sharp stones, were about twenty people,
most of them women. They wore dark clothes wrapped around them in layers, giving
them a funereal appearance. Their leader, a tall skeletal figure with wild eyes
and long black hair, was standing in front of them, facing the crucifix.
“Blessed are the nukes,” he called.
His congregation responded, “And blessed shall be the fallout.”
“Blessed is the punishment of the Dark Lord.”
“And blessed are the nails of his hands and his feet.”
“Blessed are the long chill and the many rads.”
“Blessed be both the short heat and the long cold,” came the response.
“We wait thy coming. Lord.”
“Aye, we await thy black visage.”
“Then shall we be released from bondage and into eternal life among those in the
bunkers below.”
The man turned then to gaze out at them. “In this place, tainted by the blood of
many, shall we stay until He cometh to lead us to salvation. Amen, amen, ,amen.”
“Amen,” pattered the others, rising one by one.
At that moment they heard the distant sound of engines, throbbing and whining
off to the south.
ANCHORAGE WAS GONE.
They stopped the three buggies and got out on a bluff overlooking the sullen
expanse of gray-green ocean. J.B. and Ryan checked their maps, glancing at the
compass for bearings. There wasn’t any doubt.
What had once been a sizable city had totally disappeared.
“Nukes,” said J.B. tersely, his sallow face showing no emotion.
“Yeah,” agreed Ryan Cawdor. “Nukes. Must have wasted all round here, hot-spotted
it, triggering quakes, or mebbe volcanoes. That’s a big crater out there.” He
pointed to the east, where a smudge of smoke showed against the pale sky.
“Crater,” said Doc Tanner. “Why should that ring a distant bell? I fear me I do
not remember.”
“Quakes dropped the cliffs in the sea. Up came the sea, and there Anchorage
went.”
The wind was so strong that it was blowing a waterfall that flowed over the
cliffs back into a rainbow arch over their heads, drenching them. It wasn’t a
place to hang around, with some particularly vicious gulls gathering and
swooping.
“You could throw out those fuckin’ maps,” said Okie. “The whole fuckin’ place is
changed.”
“Mebbe not away from the coast. There’s another big town shown, Fairbanks. We’ll
make for that.”
After only six or seven miles of uneven driving, Ryan slowed, waiting for the
others to come alongside. Not bothering with the radio, he stuck his head
through a side ob slit and shouted, “Somethin’ ahead. See ’em?”
In a shallow valley almost on the flanks of the high mountain was a huddle of
buildings. Some of them looked desolate and ruined. Among the buildings stood a
small group of about a dozen people, shrouded in dark clothing.
“They seen us,” shouted Hennings, his black face almost invisible within the
wrappings of clothing he wore against the bitter cold.
“Fingers on triggers,” warned J.B. “Remember the Keeper. Let’s go.”
Oddly, none of the waiting group moved as the buggies came grinding closer,
kicking up a spray of snow and ice behind them. In each buggy someone in the top
bubble was manning the light machine gun, covering the strangers. At a signal