"What did they ever do to you. Hell?"
"Nothing. What did they ever do for me? Nothing. Nothing. What do I owe them? The same."
"Why'd you stomp your brother back at the Hall?"
"Because I didn't want him doing a damfool thing like this and getting himself killed. Cracked ribs he can get over. Death is a more permanent ailment."
"That's not what I asked you. I mean, what do you care whether he croaks?"
"He's a good kid, that's why. He's got a thing for this chick, though, and he can't see straight."
"So what's it to you?"
"Like I said, he's my brother and he's a good kid. I like him."
"How come?"
"Oh, hell! We've been through a lot together, that's all! What are you trying to do? Psychoanalyze me?"
"I was just curious, that's all."
"So now you know. Talk about something else if you want to talk, okay?"
"Okay. You've been this way before, right?"
"That's right."
"You been any further east?"
"I've been all the way to the Missus Hip."
"Do you know a way to get across it?"
"I think so. The bridge is still up at Saint Louis."
"Why didn't you go across it the last time you were there?"
"Are you kidding? The thing's packed with cars full of bones. It wasn't worth the trouble to try and clear it"
"Why'd you go that far in the first place?"
"Just to see what it was like. I heard all these stories—'*
"What was it like?"
"A lot of crap. Burned down towns, big craters, crazy animals, some people—"
"People? People still live there?"
"If you want to call them that. They're all wild and screwed up. They wear rags or animal skins or they gonaked. They threw rocks at me till I shot a couple. Then they let me alone."
"How long ago was that?"
"Six—maybe seven years ago. I was just a kid then.'*
"How come you never told anybody about it?"
"I did. A coupla my friends. Nobody else ever asked me. We were going to go out there and grab off a couple of the girls and bring them back, but everybody chickened out."
"What would you have done with them?"
Tanner shrugged. "I dunno. Sell 'em, I guess."
"You guys used to do that, down on the Barbary Coast —sell people, I mean—didn't you?"
Tanner shrugged again.
"Used to," he said, "before the Big Raid."
"How'd you manage to live through that? I thought they'd cleaned the whole place out?"
"I was doing time," he said. "A.D.W."
"What's that?"
"Assault with a deadly weapon."
"What'd you do after they let you go?"
"I let them rehabilitate me. They got me a job running the mail."
"Oh yeah, I heard about that. Didn't realize it was you, though. You were supposed to be pretty good—doing all right and ready for a promotion. Then you kicked your boss around and lost your job. How come?"
"He was always riding me about my record and about my old gang down on the Coast. Finally, one day I told him to lay off, and he laughed at me, so I hit him with a chain. Knocked out the bastard's front teeth. I'd do it again."
"Too bad."
"I was the best driver he had. It was his loss. Nobody else will make the Albuquerque run, not even today. Not unless they really need the money."
"Did you like the work, though, while you were doing it?"
"Yeah, I like to drive."
"You should probably have asked for a transfer when the guy started bugging you."
"I know. If it was happening today, that's probably what I'd do. I was mad, though, and I used to get mad alot faster than I do now. I think I'm smarter these days than I was before."
"If you make it on this run and you go home afterward, you'll probably be able to get your job back. Think you'd take it?"
"In the first place," said Tanner, "I don't think we'll make it. And in the second, if we do make it and there's still people around that town, I think I'd rather stay there than go back."
Greg nodded. "Might be smart. You'd be a hero. Nobody'd know much about your record. Somebody'd turn you onto something good."
"The hell with heroes," said Tanner.
"Me, though, I'll go back if we make it."
"Sail 'round Cape Horn?"
"That's right."
"Might be fun. But why go back?"
"I've got an old mother and a mess of brothers and sisters I take care of, and I've got a girl back there."
Tanner brightened the screen as the sky began to darken.
"What's your mother like?"
"Nice old lady. Raised the eight of us. Got arthritis bad now, though."
"What was she like when you were a kid?"
"She used to work during the day, but she cooked our meals and sometimes brought us candy. She made a lot of our clothes. She used to tell us stories, like about how things were before the war. She played games with us and sometimes she gave us toys."
"How about your old man?" Tanner asked him, after awhile.
"He drank pretty heavy and he had a lot of jobs, but he never beat us too much. He was all right. He got run over by a car when I was around twelve."
"And you take care of everybody now?"
"Yeah. I'm the oldest."
"What is it that you do?"
"I've got your old job. I run the mail to Albuquerque."
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
"I'll be damned! Is German still the supervisor?"
"He retired last year, on disability."
"I'll be damned! That's funny. Listen, down in Albuquerque do you ever go to a bar called Pedro's?"
"I've been there."
"Have they still got a little blonde girl plays the piano? Named Margaret?"
"No."
"Oh."
"They've got some guy now. Fat fellow. Wears a big ring on his left hand."
Tanner nodded and downshifted as he began the ascent of a steep hill.
"How's your head now?" he asked, when they'd reached the top and started down the opposite slope.
"Feels pretty good. I took a couple of your aspirins with that soda I had."
"Feel up to driving for awhile?"
"Sure, I could do that."
"Okay, then." Tanner leaned on the horn and braked the car. "Just follow the compass for a hundred miles or so and wake me up. All right?"
"Okay. Anything special I should watch out for?"
"The snakes. You'll probably see a few. Don't hit them, whatever you do."
"Right."
They changed seats, and Tanner reclined the one, lit a cigarette, smoked half of it, crushed it out and went to sleep.
VII When Greg awakened him, it was night. Tanner coughed and drank a mouthful of ice water and crawled back to the latrine. When he emerged, he took the driver's seat and checked the mileage and looked at the compass. He corrected their course and, "We'll be in Salt Lake City before morning," he said, "if we're lucky.—Did you run into any trouble?'*
"No, it was pretty easy. I saw some snakes and I let them go by. That was about it."
Tanner grunted and engaged the gears,
"What was that .guy's name that brought the news about the plague?" Tanner asked.
"Brady or Brody or something like that," said Greg."What was it that killed him? He might have brought the plague to L.A., you know."
Greg shook his head.
"No. His car had been damaged, and he was all broken up and he'd been exposed to radiation a lot of the way. They burned his body and his car, and anybody who'd been anywhere near him got shots of Hamkine."
"What's that?"
"That's the stuff we're carrying— Haffikine antiserum. It's the only preventative for the plague. Since we had a bout of it around twenty years ago, we've kept it on hand and maintained the facilities for making more in a hurry. Boston never did, and now they're hurting,"