And it had been in great clarity that his subconscious mind had conjured once again that vision of Ned Singer. But a Singer very different from the man Garth had known. For the expression on this Singer’s face had been dazed and oddly vacant, as if he stood in some weird dream of his own; and his eyes like a cat’s had burned silvery-yellow in a gaunt, almost corpse-like face.
“What was it?” Layla had wanted to know. “You were gurgling and trying to speak. And while your body had gone cold, yet you were sweating!”
And when Garth had been able to speak: “It was…it was a dream, a nightmare,” he had told her. And then lied, saying: “I can’t…can’t remember the details.”
Drawing him closer Layla had herself shivered, telling him: “It’s your work, of course. Out there in the darkness, watching and waiting for those terrible creatures, why, that’s enough to give anyone bad dreams—including me, and I’m safe back here!”
The time had been only a little after two in the afternoon, but Garth had had more than enough of troubled sleep. Dressing, he had gone out from under the discreet tent-like awning he and Layla had erected beneath the extended lead panels of a trundle. And he was no sooner up than a runner, a boy only half his age, passed by with the news that Big Jon Lamon had called a meeting at his command rauper.
Garth had cried out after the runner: “Hey, you should stay well out of the sunlight!” This despite that the trees offered reasonably good cover. But the boy had called back:
“No need, Garth! Not today!” And then he was gone into the leaf-dappled light. Other folk were already on the move toward the head of the column; encouraged by their obvious excitement, and with Layla waving him on, Garth had joined them…
The people of the clan had ample reason to be excited; rumours had always spread quickly among their comparatively small community, and some word of what was in the offing—wonderful news apparently, whether accurate, somewhat enlarged upon, or exaggerated beyond all reason—seemed to have reached them even in advance of the runner! But as they had gathered at the leader’s armoured rauper—everyone hoping against hope that the rumours were true but not daring to speak their thoughts aloud for fear all might be snatched away—they desired only to hear it from Big Jon himself.
He had not kept them waiting. Seated on the vehicle’s rusting flank along with head tech Andrew Fielding, the leader had worn a smile as broad as his face as he commenced his address:
“People, today is going to be remembered as a very special day, for we’re in receipt of two items of marvellous news! Give me just a moment and I shall tell you about the least of these. But first—” Pausing he had turned to Fielding, only then continuing: “—first I must mention our most remarkable head tech here,” with which he had clapped the other on the back, setting the much smaller man rocking where he was perched, coughing until he seemed close to choking, “who has been busy since first light taking radiation readings. Now, we’re talking about ultraviolet radiation, of course—the sun’s harmful rays—about which all previous knowledge was restricted to the locality of the Southern Refuge and thus limited in scope; radiation which to our understanding has been at lethal levels for over a century and a half, ever since atomic warfare poisoned the atmosphere. However, according to head tech Fielding’s readings, taken just an hour ago…but no, it’s only fair that I let him tell you of this himself. Andrew?”
Fielding’s coughing fit had occasioned some nervous, sympathetic laughter from the crowd, which had quickly tailed off as finally he controlled the spasms and his thin, reedy voice took over from Big Jon’s deeper, booming tones:
“Honoured by our leader’s comments,” he began somewhat hesitantly, “still I find myself in an unenviable, at best awkward position; perhaps because I feel unduly honoured. The last time I voiced opinions and made statements such as I’m about to make now, they rebounded and came back to haunt me! That happened in the town with the car park, the church, and the well. It was my belief then that we had driven into more benevolent latitudes—the result of wishful thinking as opposed to scientific observation—which raised high hopes that were all too soon dashed: an error of judgement on my part, and one that I’m reluctant to repeat. But…I can only report things the way I find them!
“Since leaving that ill-omened town I’ve been taking solar radiation readings on the hour, each and every day, and yesterday I was obliged to give our leader some bad—though not too bad—news. In short I reported that the sun’s ultraviolet radiation appeared to be fluctuating, in my opinion as a result of a layer of particles high in the atmosphere which is constantly on the move, sometimes blocking the lethal rays while at others parting to let them through. Which was true yesterday, and also for a few hours this morning when the levels were a little high…since when these atmospheric changes seem to be working very much in our favour! Let me explain:
“As Big Jon Lamon has told you, I have been out since first light, and hour on hour my readings have steadily improved. Indeed, in less than a day they’ve improved to such a degree that they are now better than those I took in the town of the fly-by-nights—much better than at any time since we left that place—and better than I have ever imagined or dreamed possible! Alas that there’s no way I dare estimate the future duration of this change—at least, not the immediate future—for I certainly have no wish to repeat the errors of only a few days ago! But—”
At which point the leader had held up his huge hand and cut in: “—But, let me remind everyone how wonderful it was during those few days: to be able to travel by daylight and rest up by night! Yesterday after I heard Andrew’s disappointing report, I admit to having felt despondent—but no longer! The gloom has been dispersed! I now feel buoyed up and eager to get on! Which we will, and very shortly, just as soon as we’ve heard the head tech out…” And having turned again to the slight technician—who had winced as he shied away from Big Jon’s heavy hand:
“My friend, you must excuse me,” the leader had apologized. “It’s true that in the past I’ve interrupted you far too often, but this time forgive me my excitement and continue. Tell us if you will the rest of your news…the best and by far the most important part of your news!”
“Yes, yes!” the other had responded. “I’m coming to it! But first let me take a chance and risk my reputation one last time—though this time I have reason to believe that such a risk is minimal. For as I was about to say: it seems the farther north we trek the more these atmospheric anomalies appear to be working in our favour! In spite of their vacillations and however gradually, the levels of both ultraviolet and background radiations are finally—dare I say ‘definitely?’—becoming more acceptable! Oh, they swing this way and that, but each high is never as high as the last, and the lows are always lower!”
At which the almost breathless silence of the crowd had at last been broken by the sound of pent sighs, gasps, other small but audible exclamations…then some shouted, barely articulate queries…and finally a gathering storm of raised voices! Unticlass="underline"
“Now hold!” Big Jon’s cry as he rose to his feet had risen above all else. “Hold on, I say! For the man’s by no means done and the best is still to come!”