Murray nodded. "Only good midtown access to the island, ma'am, and had to be defended."
To the last man? she wondered.
"Hmmm, well done," she said, noncommittally. And then the road on the left was free of the bombed buildings. This road had always provided a breathtaking view of New York City, as it swept around in a long right-hand curve to the tollbooths and the actual tunnel faces. But the view of New York was vastly changed from her recollection of it. It was as if all the buildings had somehow been blunted. Oh, the Chrysler and the Empire State buildings were still standing, but oth-ers, including the Radio City complex, looked as if they'd been sliced off. The once proud city had gaps in its fabled silhouette. They trav-eled down toward the huge entrance plaza, swinging past tollbooths that had been shattered into rubble. Pieces of burned-out vehicles had, as on the approach roads, been pushed to the sides but gave mute testimony to the fierceness of attack and defense.
"And to think I once griped about waiting in the lines," Jelco remarked. Then armed men appeared from a galvanized shed, tucked under the shadow of the eastbound tunnel entrance. Murray slowed to a stop and turned off the engine, reaching for a sheaf of papers that had been tucked behind the eyeshade. Jelco swung down from the truck's cab and strode to the approaching guards, whose weapons were slung over their shoulders. Jelco had a slip of paper in his hand that Kris thought was decorated with seals and kelly green ribbons. Jelco had an earnest conversation with a guard, showing him the pa-per, while a dour man who reeked of sweat was thumbing through Murray's papers. The breeze was, unfortunately, coming across him and into the truck cab. Evidently soap and deodorant were no longer available.
"Would you like some fresh rolls?" Kris asked nervously and held one up for the man to see. She thought for a moment that the rest of his squad would rush the truck but the man with Jelco issued a sharp order and they moderated to a swift walk. She handed Murray the rolls to pass around and noticed that he dropped one into his own lap, though how he would manage without teeth, she didn't know. He simply tore a piece off the roll and popped it into his mouth, his eyes widening with appreciation at the taste.
"Thanks, miss," said the first guard, tipping his fingers in a salute. He passed rolls out to the rest of his unit.
"Klaus?" he yelled, attracting his leader's attention, and lofted a roll, which Klaus neatly hooked out of the air. "Sorry, ma'am, but a search is required. Becky, front and center," he yelled over his shoul-der, and a woman soldier quickly advanced.
Kris had never been frisked before but, considering what she had seen of the tunnel's environs, she had no intention of protesting such a security measure. Klaus gestured for Zainal to step out so he could be checked over, too.
"She's clean," Becky said after a fairly cursory feel of Kris's arms and legs, back and waist. Kris offered her a roll. "Thank you. Ain't had fresh-baked bread in ages." She bit into it with an almost savage gusto and chewed vigorously, nodding her approval. In all, a dozen rolls had been passed out before Kris was waved back into the truck. She was glad she'd made the offer, judging by the happy expressions on the tunnel guards' faces and the appreciative thumbs-up gestures as the truck was allowed to roll into the eastbound tube.
"I'm Wylee," said a small man who came back to the truck with Jelco. "Tunnel squad. Just wanted to reassure you that the fans have been circulating the bad air out. You got anyone in your group who's asthmatic or has respiratory problems?" He looked at Kris as he spoke, trying to ignore Zainal's solid Catteni form.
"None I know of."
"Well, the air in the middle of the tunnel ain't exactly one hun-dred percent unpolluted, ma'am. Anybody has any problem, call me, huh? We got respirators." He motioned to the backpack he was wear ing. His expression suggested that he didn't want to use them unless he absolutely had to. Oxygen was still free, wasn't it? Kris thought, feeling almost rebellious. She did not really know what those left on Earth had had to face so she swallowed the smart rejoinder. She felt the tilt of the truck as those in the back hauled up Wylee.
As Murray was waved to proceed into the left-hand tunnel, she had more to concern her. She wasn't claustrophobic but she really didn't like the idea of all the water over her head, and looked at the cream-tiled walls of the tunnel to see any signs of lack of mainte-nance. She didn't know what to look for-but cracks or moisture staining the walls would be obvious signs. Yet if this was one of the only accesses to New York City from the mainland, it would behoove them to keep it in good repair.
She was somewhat surprised to see a huge Dumpster at the en-trance and noticed that there were bits of cement and odd pieces of metal jutting from it. Then the truck swerved to the right and she saw the burned-out chassis of a car on the left. This was not the last wreck she was to see in the tunnel. Few had been burned out but all had been stripped down to the chassis.
"Recycling," Murray said around a mouthful of his roll.
"We'll get the junk out of the tunnel one of these years," Jelco said cheerfully. "And sometimes, when we have a group coming through, we get them to hump a chassis out for us."
When they were out of sight of the tunnel entrance she saw that the raised walkway along the inner side of the tunnel had been dam-aged, though most of the cement and tiles had been cleaned away from the break.
"That's as far in as the invaders got," Jelco said, pointing to where the damage ended with a hint of pride. "But then," and he cast a quick glance at Zainal, "Catteni don't like being underground, do they?"
There was a look on his face that suggested he'd hoped to see Zainal react.
"True enough," Zainal said with complete composure. "You did well to fight off Catteni soldiers. No other species has been able to." "So I heard," Jelco replied amiably.
That exchange seemed to please both participants and the rest of the journey, past other cars stripped to the bare bones of their chassis, passed without remarks. Kris had to keep reminding herself that Wylee had said the air had been circulated so she must be imagining the stink, but the stench of gasoline, oil, and burned tires was heavy enough to keep her taking shallow breaths to keep her lungs as uncontaminated as possible by the stale air. Shipboard air got to smell stale, too, but this tunnel was rank with ancient odors.
"Nearly there, ma'am," Jelco murmured reassuringly. She was un-deniably relieved to see more light on the tunnel tiles.
She smiled, turning her head in an almost regal nod in his direc-tion. She would be glad to fill her lungs with clean air again. Then the truck drove up out of the tunnel. Debris from the old Port Authority Building was tumbled around the exit; she inhaled and wished she hadn't for there was a stench of rot and garbage that almost made the tunnel's air seem sweet. Two huge Dumpsters were on either side of the exit, filled almost to capacity with debris that had been cleared from the tunnel. Maybe they should have used the lifts and brought out more, like one of the car bodies. But Zainal had mentioned that the floats had only so much power in their batteries and he had no spares to replace them with.
Then they had to go through a second security check, and Kris passed out the rest of the rolls she had in her backpack. Again the identity papers were shown, and Wylee swung out of the truck and went to confer with the squad leaders, beaming as he passed out the rolls to grateful Manhattan recipients.
"Green for go," he said, coming to the window. "Roll away, Mur-ray." He added a grandiose gesture for the driver. Murray grinned, crumbs of the roll he had eaten visible on his gums, and shifted into first gear, ignoring the complaints from the transmission. She hoped the truck would last to bring the heavy dental equipment back.
The truck rolled up the curved road at Forty-first and onto Tenth Avenue.