At last they came to the town itself. There was a layout of streets here, you could see that, a roughly rectangular grid laid out over shallow slopes. But the roads were as ruined as the one they had followed here. The buildings themselves were just patterns of mounds and hummocks draped with green, most of them no more than waist height. The whole place looked like an overgrown graveyard. Snowy thought they could have passed by any of these heaps of green-clad rubble in the forest and thought it just another extrusion of rock, the product of nature’s mindless churning. Even the vegetation was much the same as in the open land beyond the town. It was only the patterns that told you that hands had built this place, that minds had planned it.
Here and there, though, more enduring fragments poked out of the drowning green. There was one looming, circular hill, as green clad as the rest. Snowy wondered if this might be a keep, the base of one of the Normans’ great castles, erected to enforce their occupation of England in the eleventh century. If so, it had lasted where much else had failed. They came across a row of columns, worn to stubs, that looked as if they had been clad in marble. They might have been the grandiose frontage of a bank or town hall.
And here was a statue, fallen on its back. Its face, pocked by lichen and eroded beyond recognition, peered up at the sky from an ocean of green. But the statue bore traces of charring, Snowy saw. He searched for a date, but couldn’t find one.
When he dug into the greenery that blanketed other anonymous mounds, he found more traces of fire, of soot and scorching. This place had burned, then, before it had been broken up. He was walking on tragedy, on overgrown horror. He wondered how deep he would have to dig before he found bones.
They came to a comparatively open space. This must have been a central square, maybe a marketplace. Ahmed called a halt. They dropped their packs, drank their water, and peered around. In the lengthening shadows of evening the ruined town was an eerie place, Snowy thought, neither quite natural nor human, neither one thing nor the other.
A little ratty creature scuttled from under Snowy’s feet, crisply pattering over the broken asphalt surface and disappearing into the richer green away from the square. It looked like a vole. And, following its tracks, Snowy made out the upright, wary form of a hare. With bewildering speed it turned and scuttled away.
“Voles and hares,” he muttered to Sidewise. “I thought we’d see cats and dogs.”
Sidewise shrugged, sweat and grime coating his face. “People have gone, right? Civilization has fallen, blah, blah, blah. Cats and dogs were pampered, domesticated, all the genetic variation bred out of them. They wouldn’t have lasted long without us.”
“I’d have thought cats would survive. Even little kittens used to go hunting.”
“Wild cats were perfect killing machines. But the domestic variety had smaller teeth, jaws, brains than their wild ancestors, because old ladies liked them better that way.” Sidewise winked. “I always thought cats were faking it. They weren’t so tough. Just a pain in the arse.”
“Where are the cars?” Moon asked. “I mean, I see the buildings, what’s left of them. What about the cars?”
“If you dig in the greenery you might find a few patches of rust, or bits of plastic.” Sidewise glared at Ahmed. “What, are you going to chew me out for lowering morale again? I’m only pointing out the bleeding obvious.”
“But we don’t have to deal with that right now,” Ahmed said, with an evenness Snowy admired. “What we need to do is obvious too.”
Snowy nodded. “We have to find shelter.”
Bonner clambered up onto a low mound that might once have been a wall. Now he pointed, roughly west. “That way. I can see walls. I mean, standing walls. Something that isn’t all covered in shit.”
With an unreasonable spark of hope, Snowy got to his feet. It was a church, he saw. A medieval church. He could make out the tall, narrow windows, the high doorway. But the doors and roof had long gone, leaving the building open to the sky. He felt disappointment — and yet a stab of admiration.
Sidewise seemed to share his thought. “If you’re going to build, build out of stone.”
“Where do you think we are? England, France?”
Sidewise shrugged. “What do I know about churches?”
Ahmed picked up his pack. “All right. There’s no roof, so we’ll have to make lean-tos. Bonner, Snowy, come with me and we’ll fetch some branches. And we’ll need a fire. Moon, Sidewise, you attend to that.” He looked around at their faces, which were shining like coins in the gathering dark. This would be the first time they had been out of each other’s sight since they had woken up, and even Snowy felt a pang of uncertainty. “Don’t go too far,” Ahmed said gently. “We’re alone here. There doesn’t seem to be anybody to help us. But we’ll be fine so long as we’re careful. If anything goes wrong — anything — shout or use your pistol, and the rest of us will come running. All right?”
They nodded and murmured. Then they moved off into the gathering dark, purposefully pursuing their allotted tasks.
The interior of the church was just another patch of greenery. There was a mound at one end that might once have been an altar, but there was no sign of pews or crucifixes, prayer books or candles. The roof was gaping open to the sky, not a trace left of the wooden construction that must once have spanned these slender, sturdy walls.
Under their lean-tos, on pallets of brush, with leaves for blankets, it wasn’t going to be such an uncomfortable night. They had all had plenty of survival training; this wasn’t so bad compared to that.
They stuck to their survival packs, munching on dried bananas and beef jerky. They didn’t eat any of the fruit from the forest. It was a little superstitious, Snowy thought, as if they wanted to cling to what was left of the past as long as possible, before committing themselves to this peculiar new present. But it was OK to take it slow. Ahmed was showing a good grasp of psychology in allowing that. It certainly wouldn’t make any difference in the long run.
They were all pretty exhausted after a walk of many klicks on their first day out of the Pit. Snowy wondered how they would have got on if they’d really had to fight; maybe this strategy wouldn’t have worked as well as the planners had imagined. And they all had trouble with their feet, with blisters and aches. It was the lack of socks that was the problem. Snowy worried about using up their limited supplies of ointments too fast. They would have to do something about that tomorrow.
But it was comforting to shelter in this relic of human construction, as if they were still cradled by the civilization they had come from. Still, they would keep their fire burning all night.
Snowy was relieved to find he was too tired to think too hard. Still, he woke.
He rolled on his back, restless. The air was hot — too damn hot for an English spring; maybe the climate had changed, global warming gone crazy or somesuch. The sky framed by the open roof was littered with stars, obscured here and there by cloud. There was a crescent moon, too narrow to banish the stars, as far as he could see unchanged from the patient face that had watched over his boyhood. He had learned a little astronomy, during training exercises in the desert, for navigation purposes. He picked out constellations. There was Cassiopeia — but the familiar W shape was extended by a sixth star. A hot young star, maybe, born since he had gone into the Pit. What a strange thought.
“I can’t see Mars,” Sidewise whispered, from out of the dark.
That startled Snowy; he hadn’t known Sidewise was awake. “What?”
Sidewise pointed to the sky, his arm a silhouette. “Venus. Jupiter. Saturn, I think. Where’s Mars?”