Another gangman entered. He had abandoned his unaccustomed gun for his old ax. «Ever’body out o’ here?» he asked.
«I just got in,» said the first. «I’ll search it myself. Find y’r own house.» He turned on Wayne and slammed him in the stomach with one fist, «Scram, you—down t’ the main square!»
Retching, Wayne staggered back, and outside mostly by chance. Sick and dizzy, head roaring like his collapsing world, he leaned against the wall.
«Rod!»
He turned, unbelieving. Karen had just come around the side of the house, pale but outwardly composed. «Are you all right, Rod?» she whispered.
«Yeah… yeah… but you… how—?»
«I heard them talking and slipped out a window. But Rod—Al’s gone.»
«Gone!» Briefly, new dismay shook Wayne. Al—whatever the mutant was, Al was his son. Then relief came, realization. «He must have sneaked out, too. He’s all right. He knows how to run and hide—all mutant kids learn that.» His mind added grayly: And in the next generation all human kids will have to learn it.
«But us—Rod, what is this?»
Wayne shrugged and started down the street. «Town’s apparently captured,» he said.
«Outlaws—we have to run, Rod! Have to get away!»
«Not much use, I’m afraid. This is the work of a well-disciplined group under a smart leader. They must have come up from the south, resisting the temptation to plunder on the way. They took us by complete flat-footed surprise, overpowered the police—I recognized Ed Haley’s pistol in that bandit’s hand—and are now rounding us up in quite a methodical fashion. I wasn’t just shoved out, I was ordered to report to the square. That suggests they’re guarding all ways out. Anyway, we can’t flee right now.»
They had fallen in with a group of citizens moving with the dumb blank obedience of stunned minds toward the square under outlaw guard, The gang was having little trouble. They went from house to house, forcing the inhabitants into the street. The work went fast.
There was fighting now and then, short and sharp, ending in blow of club or knife or bullet. A couple of families with guns stood off the invaders. Wayne saw fire arrows shot into the roofs of those houses.
He shuddered and bent his head to Karen’s ear. «We do have to get out as soon as we can,» he muttered. «If we can. They’re disciplined now, and wholly merciless. Once we’re completely rounded up, the discipline will break but the ruthlessness stay in such an orgy of looting and drinking, burning and rape and murder, as has always followed barbarian conquests.»
«They can’t stay long,» she answered desperately. «The government… this is on the air route—»
«That’s what I can’t figure out. They must know they can’t remain, so why did they come here in the first place? Why not raid the lands closer to home? Well—we’ll have to see, that’s all.»
The—herd—of citizens entered the square and walked toward the little memorial in its center with the queer blind shuffle that cattle in a stockyard chute have. There were other outlaw guards posted around the square and on the memorial, weapons ready. The monument was a granite shaft with a stone bench on each side, and seated there—
Wayne did not remember the bearded giant, but Karen caught a sudden gasp of recognition. «It… it… Rod, it’s Hammer. Richard Hammer!»
«Eh?»
«Don’t you recall—the mechanic at the service station—we always used to get our gas there, and once when I smashed a fender on the car he fixed it so you wouldn’t notice—»
The chief heard them. There weren’t many people in the square yet, and the early sun struck dazzling off Karen’s hair. «Why, it’s Miz’ Wayne.» he said. «Howdy Miz’ Wayne.»
«H-h-hello,» faltered Karen.
«Lookin’ purtier ’n ever, too. Wayne, you had all the luck.»
The mathematician shouldered his way forward, suddenly weak with a dreadful clawing fear. «Hammer—what is this?» he got out.
«I’m takin’ over Southvale. Meet y’r new boss.»
«You—» Wayne swallowed. He choked down the panic rising in him and said in a level, toneless voice: «I gather you’ve become chief of this band and led it back here for a raid. But—you must know you can’t get away with it. We’re on an airline route. The government will know.»
Hammer smiled wearily. «I’ve figgered all that out. I intend to stay here. I’m gatherin’ all the folks t’ tell ’em t’ be good, because we don’t mind killin’. But if y’re really interested—» He sketched his further plans.
«You’re crazy—it’s not possible.»
«A lot o’ less possible things have happened. If you all, not too far no’th, felt safe, what about the gov’ment ‘way out in Oregon? We’ll do it!»
«But even if you can—Hammer, do you realize the government is the only link left with our past, our civilization? You’d throw man back a thousand years.»
«So what? Wayne, don’t you nor anybody else hand me none o’ that crap ‘bout law an’ order an’ humanity. You’re fifteen years too late. You an’ your kind made us outlaws, drivin’ us away when we came starvin’ to you, houndin’ us south an’ then in your fat smugness forgettin’ about us. It’s been hard, Wayne, battle an’ death an’ hunger all those years. We had t’ get hard ourselves, t’ stay alive.»
«You could have stuck it out in the north as we did, and raised your own food free from most bandits.»
«Free only because so many people like us went south. Nor were most o’ us farmers, with land an’ equipment an’ experience. Anyway you did drive us out when you were strong. I ain’t blamin’ you. You had t’ live. But it’s our turn now, so shut up.» Hammer’s eaglesque eyes swung to Karen, he smiled. It was a winter-cold smile, warmth and humor had died long ago in him. «You, I’ll be seein’ more of,» he said. «It’s been so long—»
The square was well filled with people now, and more were arriving and being herded into side streets and buildings. Some were still numb. Some wept or prayed or implored or tried to ingratiate themselves, some cursed and threatened, some retreated into impassive silence. But—prisoners all. Captured, impotent, legitimate prey.
Hammer turned as an outlaw galloped up, thrusting his horse through the crowd without regard for their safety. «What is it?» asked the chief, not anxiously. His victory was too tremendously evident.
«I dunno—some trouble down by the river,» said the gangman. «About half Joe’s detail ain’t showed up yet.»
«Hm-m-m? Musta found some likker.»
«Yeah—Hey—What’s that?»
Hammer turned. He couldn’t see much sitting down. Huge and shaggy and ablaze with the arrogance of his triumph, he sprang lithely onto the bench and looked north along the street. He grinned, then laughed, then shouted with humorless mirth. «Lamp that, boys. Some crazy mutie—look at him!»
Wayne was so placed that he could also see down that street. His heart staggered, for a black instant he couldn’t believe, refused to comprehend, then—
«Alaric.»
The boy was coming down the street, walking slowly and carrying an object, a fantastic wire-tangled grotesquerie of electronic surrealism, thrown together in the wildest haste and with no recognizable design. A wire led from it to a reel of cable mounted on a mule’s back, and the cable snaked behind, along the road—it must go clear to the powerhouse!
How had Al done it? That cable was sacrosanct, reserved for electrifying the airport. That apparatus, the invaluable parts in it—how had he gotten them? How—why? Why! What mad vagary of a reasonless brain had prompted him to go thus on this darkest of mornings? What—