按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ct himself with the Sera…III。 Both would have given him degrees of protection from the virus； but both would have killed him sooner or later。 Plainly the pilgrims shot the suits on sight。 As for the Sera…III； it might have given him a three…year window； but he couldn't be sure he'd survive the next few minutes； much less years。 More to the point； he couldn't afford the forty…eight hours it would have taken for his immune system to ramp up the antibodies。 Besides； his courage would never have held so long。 Forty…eight hours is a long time to hold the razor above your own wrist。
The suit and the Sera…III were false choices anyway。 With or without them； he was entering the land of the dead。 That had been the real choice； to stay in safety or descend into the valley； and even there the choice was nil。 Because to stay meant praying for Ochs； or the generals； to show mercy； and mercy was no longer an operative term。 It wasn't that they were inherently evil men。 Of late； Nathan Lee had given up on monsters。 He'd never believed in God。 Now； far worse； he didn't believe in Satan。 The devil made a fine scapegoat； but the Great Deceiver was a deception； just one more try at stuffing the universe into a shoe box。 Human scale might be good for measuring doorways； but it was useless for answering misery。 In the end； mankind's downfall wasn't manmade； nor written in heaven or cooked up in hell； just a crooked bit of protein。
And so he approached the pilgrim camp with no defenses； no explanations； no ticket home； only a headful of voices。 He was terrified。 And lonely。 Even in the middle of Tibet he'd never felt so single…handed and alone。 Nathan Lee knew what he had to do； but didn't know why。 He was making it up as he went along； writing himself into…or out of…his own movie。 As he rode toward the bridge； it felt like he was plunging into a dark shaft。 Winging it。。。on broken wings。
The Appaloosa carried him a hundred yards more； shying； then obeying。 Her eyes rolled at the smell of meat rotting。 He could have forced her on。 He craved the strength of her big muscles and the warmth ing up from her body。 Nathan Lee was unsure his own legs would carry him。
But she was so beautiful。 He ran his eyes along her perfect neck； the columns of muscle； the rippling shoulders。 He sighted down between her ears twitching at the distance。 She dreamed dreams in that great skull。
At last he pulled the reins and stopped her。Enough。 They would hang her meat above their fires； and that was pointless。 Their hunger was greater than the flesh she had to offer。 Nathan Lee dismounted slowly； in plain sight and with broad motions。 He gave the shooters his back as he went about stripping the mare of tack。 He dumped the saddle and bridle in a heap by the road。 On second thought he kept the saddle blanket for himself。
Then he pointed one hand up the highway toward Los Alamos； not for the horse's sake； but so that the snipers could understand his intentions exactly； and stepped away。 He stood on the white and yellow center stripes with his hands empty； watching while the Appaloosa turned and briskly trotted back through the graveyard of vehicles。
She didn't tarry。 There was no forage； not with winter nearly on and the land poisoned。 She didn't gallop； and he was glad for that； too。 He didn't want the snipers to feel rushed to judgment。 This way they would have time to make up their minds to spare her。
Her hooves clapped on the asphalt。 She faded through the smog； a dappled ghost。 He remembered his boat on the Alaska shore； how it had drifted off into the ocean mist the moment he looked away。 Necessary risks。 The horse turned a bend and then she was gone。
He rolled the saddle blanket； faced the river again； and started walking。 The stripes stretched like miles。 He kept his head up； trying to force aside the image of his face in their crosshairs。 No one called halt as he started over the bridge。 Wild； gaunt figures waited at the far end； glowering； brandishing guns； long spears； axes for firewood； bows with razor…bladed hunting arrows； even long…handled framing hammers。 Some wore motorcycle； bicycle； or football helmets。 Some wore gas masks。 It didn't seem possible a man； even a mad prophet； could mand such rabble。
The quixotic creatures stood there； heads up； facing west； aimed at Los Alamos。 It was a curious scene。 They were all ready for battle。。。without an enemy in sight。 Running north to south； the invasion was poised。 Only the river gave them any shape。
It wasn't much of a bridge； he remembered now。 Over the weeks； it had loomed larger and larger in the minds of Los Alamos； a span between one world and another。 But it was just a short； flat stretch。
〃No gifts？〃 someone taunted。 〃No big promises？〃
Nathan Lee tried to look steady。 His heart was racing。 His mouth was dry。
〃What's here？〃 one of the scarred apparitions demanded。
Nathan Lee gave up the horse blanket without a protest。
Someone shoved him from behind。 They didn't ask his name。 It was as void to them as his purpose； which no one asked either。 They were incurious。 He had no answers for them； none that mattered。 He'd thought they might ask about Los Alamos； its defenses； its riches； its fears。 But in their minds； they owned it already。
One of the soldiers came forward with a big smile。 〃Where's our manners？〃 He spoke broadly。 〃Man es off his mountain； all shaved and neat。 Bold as day。 Down to heal the little people； am I right？〃
It was a gallows smile。 He was out for sport。 Nathan Lee waited。 The man spit in his face。
It was only the start； Nathan Lee knew。 He wiped the warm gob from his cheek； looked at it on his fingers； then back at the soldier。 He could cringe or strike back； and what was going to e next would unfold with the same deadly violence。 Their fists were scarred； their faces bruised。 They had mauled each other bloody waiting for someone like him。 Once his beating began； they wouldn't be able to stop themselves。 He heard the water； and an image flashed of his body floating downriver into the logjam of bodies。
For a moment there seemed nothing to do about it。 Then it came to him that for all their rifles and malice； these same men had not shot the Appaloosa。 They still had some spark of poetry in them。
The soldier's false smile widened。 They circled him。 Hard laughter all around。 Then Nathan Lee surprised them。 He surprised himself。 Without another thought； he swiped the spit across his tongue。 He took the contagion。
The soldiers blinked。 They fell silent。 Before their eyes； Nathan Lee had just damned himself。 He'd bee one of them。
After a minute； the first man stepped away。 They let him pass。 And no one found his knife。
THECAPTAIN'S VOICEwoke her。 〃Are you watching？〃 he said。
Miranda clutched the phone to one ear。 She pawed the sleep away from her face。 〃Watching？〃 She staggered up from the mattress on her office floor。
〃You're not watching？〃
〃I must have drifted off；〃 she mumbled in excuse。Watching what？
〃He made it across。〃
〃Excellent。〃 The clock read nine。Morning or night？ Burning the candle at both ends； the poor little nubbin。
〃There started to be some trouble。 I don't know what he said to them。 But they let him in。 We saw that much through the remote cameras。〃
Suddenly it seemed like winter in the room。
〃Nathan Lee？〃 she whispered。
The Captain was silent a minute。 〃He didn't tell you？〃
Then she saw it on her desk。 He'd left his book of fairy tales。
NATHANLEE ENTEREDthe great throat of the siege； their massed voices； their savage faith。 He'd thought his journeys had made him ready for this。 But for all its horrors； the wastelands of Asia had at least been still。 Here the dead moved around。 They spoke。 They sang and chanted。 They rocked in place； brawled； crawled； wept； praised God。 Sitting on muddy lumps of carcasses； they murmured names over and over。 He was reminded of the Year Zero clones in their cells； anonymous except for the names and tales they kept whispering to themselves。
The virus manifested everywhere； in the glassed flesh； in the vacant eyes。 Lovers had tethered themselves together to take turns caring for each other as consciousness ebbed and flowed between them。 Parents roped their stricken children wrist to wrist and led their little flocks like animals。 People had bound their cherished ones hand and foot to keep them from wandering at night； only to be stricken themselves and forget the bindings and wander off； leaving men； women and children to starve in the cold mud。 There was no food to eat anyway； Nathan Lee told himself。 But there was； of course。 They didn't even bother hiding their butchery。 The stripped bones lay white。 They had bee their own movable feast。
The virus was far from finished with them。 Many more people were mobile than not。 The pilgrims may have died by the tens of thousands here； but hundreds of thousands still remained。 As he moved through their desolate bunches； they peered at him from beneath dark cowls of blankets and nested hair and smeared brows； their eyes red from the smoke。 They shivered with fevers and coughed with pneumonia and flu and tuberculosis。 They limped from wounds。 Their eyes were crusted。 Filth leaked from the ankles of their pan